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ausetkmt · 2 years ago

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Protest observer (Walter Gadsden, 17) in Birmingham, Alabama, USA, on 3 May 1963, being attacked by police dogs during a civil rights protest.

On July 11, 2017, a video circulated throughout social media depicting the San Diego police deploying a canine against an unarmed suspect. Posted by a bystander named Angel Nunez, it revealed a large police dog lacerating a Black man’s arm while he was handcuffed and subdued on the pavement. The officers appeared to lose control of the animal, while the man screamed in agony as the dog ripped his flesh. Since the video did not reveal the events leading up to the attack, some viewers suspected the man surely antagonized the animal. Shortly after the original post, however, Nunez provided a second video depicting the preceding events. It revealed no premise for the dog’s attack. The suspect appeared to simply hold his arms in a defensive posture as the dog lunged and tackled him to the pavement.

The image triggered various reactions throughout social media. Though skeptics attempted to explain the procedure, and deny its racial overtones, many believed it manifested yet another example of police brutality. Though police shootings and violent beatings typically dominate mainstream perceptions of police violence, the use of canines to subdue people of color has a deeply racist history that not only engulfs the United States, but much of the western hemisphere.

Scholars note that European colonists brought dogs to the Americas and used them as tools for intimidation and violence against indigenous populations, but the deliberately racialized breeding of canines occurred during the expansion of Black chattel slavery. As slave rebellions erupted throughout the western hemisphere in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, a breed called the “Cuban bloodhound” was diffused throughout the slaveholding colonies. Named for the island from which they hailed, they were physically imposing and extremely aggressive. Used in Cuba to confine slaves to the plantations, they were eventually exported to quell Black revolts. The British used them against the Jamaican Maroons in the late eighteenth century and the French engaged their services during the Haitian Revolution in the early nineteenth century.

A few decades later, the US government was engrossed in a lengthy conflict with the Black Seminole Indians in Florida, and military officials followed the French and British examples by importing Cuban bloodhounds to help crush the revolt. Following this event, entrepreneurial white southerners interbred the dogs with local breeds, birthing the occupation of professional slave hunting in the antebellum South.1Cuban Mastiff

The targeting of enslaved men and women was so pervasive that Black authors called them “Negro Dogs,” as the fugitive comprised the most lucrative target for the dogs’ owners. These animals held a prominent legacy in the testimonies of former slaves, as their oral histories recollected stories of pursuit, evasion, and, oftentimes violent, capture. The assault on Black people was so widespread that a reader gains a sense of its normalcy in the literature. According to one former slave from Mississippi, “Some folks treated the slaves mighty bad, put nigger dogs on ‘em” Far from a haphazard practice, the business of hunting Black bodies was ritualized throughout the South.

Emancipation brought little relief. The legal subversion of Black Americans continued after the Civil War and the backbreaking requirements of southern agricultural labor during the Jim Crow period largely mirrored its antebellum predecessor. One 1903 headline entitled, “Slavery in Alabama,” accused southern sharecroppers of developing a system of neo-slavery by preying upon impoverished African Americans who remained in perpetual debt: “Planters in want of labor…paid the fines and took the negroes into slavery, ostensibly to ‘work out’ their fines.”2 Such economic exploitation perpetuated debt bondage that mirrored antebellum slavery, and the report detailed how the workers were treated with “great severity” and received whippings for disobedience. Upon any attempt to abscond from the plantation “they were hunted down in the old slavery day’s fashion with bloodhounds.”3

Being “hunted down” with bloodhounds became a familiar experience for Black fugitives, but canine violence was also used to dismantle peaceful protests in the 1960s. Though the “Dogs of Birmingham” often dominate images of violence during the Civil Rights era, the practice spanned much of the Deep South. In 1963, the New York Times reported that police in Greenwood, Mississippi, a city notorious for its violence against Civil Rights workers, used canines to perpetuate anti-Black oppression. James Farmer, national director of the Congress of Racial Equality, condemned the attack of a Black minister by police dogs, declaring, “When that dog’s fangs sank to the ankle of the young minister…they also sank into the hearts of the Negroes of Greenwood.”4 By the time of the passage of the Voting Rights Act in 1965, canine units had threatened and intimidated Black protestors throughout the South.“The author caught by the bloodhounds.” Illustration from Narrative William W. Brown: An American Slave

Despite the public’s outcry against southern police tactics, the violent images of dogs attacking Black victims did little to curb the persistence of this practice throughout the United States. Though police departments assumed that “many lessons were learned since Birmingham,” largely through better training approaches for handlers and their canines, modern statistics remain quite troubling when viewed through a racial context.

The Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) is one of the worst repeat offenders. Throughout the 1980s, African Americans leveled complaints that officers jokingly called Black suspects “dog biscuits” as they deployed canines against them. The issue came to a head during the 1991 class action suit Lawson v. Gates, which spotlighted the LAPD’s unlawful use of canines as vehicles of terror and intimidation against minority communities.

Evidence was especially damning, and the plaintiff’s attorneys were able to prove the LAPD deployed dogs principally in African-American and Latino communities, even though “crimes for which dogs are used occur at equal if not greater rates in communities with substantially higher Caucasian populations.”

The case was settled with a monetary payment to 54 plaintiffs, and that the LAPD would institute reform measures for how officers deployed canines. Law enforcement agencies in Los Angeles would later celebrate these reforms throughout the 1990s, claiming bite ratios were markedly down from previous years. However, recent data from the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department (LASD) provides a vastly different picture.

A recent study from the LASD revealed that canine bites in the Los Angeles area were leveled solely against people of color for the first six months of 2013, and the bite ratios against Blacks and Latinos remain disproportionately high. But these contemporary problems do not lie solely in southern California. Following the killing of Michael Brown in 2014, the Department of Justice (DOJ) uncovered that police units in Ferguson, Missouri, persistently used dogs to attack Black suspects, including teenagers. Ultimately, the DOJ report concluded that Ferguson police “appear to use canines not to counter a physical threat but to inflict punishment.”

Including animals in the histories of racial violence, in both colonial histories and the African American experience, contextualizes how conceptions of race are made, consolidated, and reimagined by human populations. We must realize that enactments of police brutality are not solely human-to-human phenomena, but such state-sanctioned patterns of violence are deeply rooted in American history.

#Police Dogs and Anti-Black Violence #police dogs #violence from police #police violence #police weaponizing dogs #police k9 units weaponized against Black People #Black Lives Matter

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c0cksuck3rs4lif3 · 2 months ago

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ᜊ 𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅ℯ𝒹 ᜊ

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

summary: you come across a wishing well on a hunt, not thinking much of it. But what will happen when you accidentally wish for something that you’re not sure you’re ready for with your best friend?

warnings: slight smut, making out, angst if you squint, Dean walking in, mostly fluff I suppose, size kink, again if you squint, this is based off of 4x8! This is more of a sassy!sam fic, sorry abt it

a/n: hello! I usually write on Wattpad, (pls don’t crucify me I am not a child) but I’ve been on Tumblr recently and like the writing on here better! This is my first fanfiction written on here, so bear with me, and please tell me if I’ve made any mistakes! (T^T) This is proofread!

Fuck, this was bad.

Worse than the impending apocalypse? Probably not.

Worse than Dean being ripped out of hell by some mystery angel that you’d only just met on the last case, who actually threatened to wipe out an entire town full of people? Not really.

But this was some serious, deep, uncomfortably steamy shit you’d gotten yourself into.

Let’s take it back a bit, shall we?

You, Sam, and Dean had all caught wind of a case down in Concrete, Washington. Apparently, a girl had gotten pushed down a flight of stairs by a spirit, and another man claimed that he had been attacked by Bigfoot.

However, this was not the case for either of them. It turned out to be some kind of wishing well, spelled by a cursed coin thrown haphazardly into it, granting that person—and whoever else threw a coin in said well—any wish that their heart desired.

Dean, being Dean, wanted to try this little well out, to see if it actually worked the way that you all figured it had. And, being the absolute idiot that he was, decided to order himself a jalapeño sub sandwich, or something of the sort. And it actually worked.

Standing over the well, staring down into the clear water with coins littering the bottom of the plaster, one began to wonder. Could it truly grant any wish that someone had? If it only granted a harmless wish, then was this even truly a case? Couldn’t you just.. leave these people alone, let them have their wishes?

Dean seemed to have been speaking to you, but you hadn’t registered it until he smacked your arm.

“Hello? Earth to Major Tom?”

He asked sarcastically, finally eliciting a response from you. Your head snapped up at him and looked at the man next to you.

“What?”

Dean just chuckled, seeming to have read you like a book, glancing down at the water, before realigning his gaze with your own.

“You should make one. What’s the harm? C’mon, I think I have..”

He trailed off, digging into his jacket pockets, that jingled faintly as his hand sifted through the small pouch. Finally, with a triumphant sigh, he pulled out a penny and held it out for you to take. But Sam, probably being the closest thing to a brain cell shared between the three of you, spoke out against it.

“Uh, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Dean just scoffed and threw a snooty little look back at Sam over his shoulder, before holding up his sandwich for Sam to see, causing the younger brother to characteristically roll his eyes.

“What? You think a sandwich is harmful? Think it’s going to grow legs and start ripping people to shreds? This isn’t Captain Underpants, Sammy. No harm, no foul.”

Sam only exhaled an exasperated sigh and looked over at you. God, those puppy dog eyes should’ve been considered a fucking weapon against the psyche.

You had to quickly tear your gaze away from the endless sea of greens and browns that painted his irises, just to spare yourself from the silent judge of character as you carefully lifted the coin from Deans fingertips.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Sam. Maybe this is all just a big misunderstanding. I mean, a wishing well? What harm could it do?”

You asked, before turning your attention to the fountain before you. Crap. You hadn’t really thought about what you’d wish for. Money? No. For Dean to stop being such a smartass? You didn’t think so. You hummed quietly in deep thought. What on earth were you going to wish for?

And then, there was the obvious one. For the reciprocation of feelings on behalf of the younger Winchester standing not five feet across from you, watching intently as you thought about what wish you were going to make.

No, your conscious mind screamed at you. That would be wrong. To strong arm Sam’s feelings, to try to get him to reciprocate this unrequited love you’d been carrying around with you for somewhere around two years now. It was like an eternity of a ball and chain.

Sam was.. well, to put it mildly, an absolute dreamboat. He was.. kind, and chivalrous, and respectful. He was built with a 6’4 mass of solid lines and lean muscle, a kind of soft comfort that only he could provide. It was absolutely torturous, having to be around him 24/7, stuck in a car for god only knows how many hours, motel rooms, cases where you’d have to patch each other up.

Swallowing your feelings felt like.. swallowing bleach and gasoline. It burned on its way down, and boiled deep in your gut, searing every square inch of nerve in your body, until you were nothing but seared and raw nerves, jolting unwanted electricity through your being whenever Sam dared to touch you, or say your name with that undeniable Sam-softness that only he could seem to produce.

You couldn’t have him. And that tore you apart. Because you’d never meet another man like Sam, not in your lifetime. You weren’t sure you wanted to.

But you’d decided a long time ago that you would rather stick by his side, come hell or high water, as a good friend, then ruin it completely with your own selfish wants and needs. No. Having Sam near you was enough. And you would rather die than drive him and Dean away. So, you kept quiet.

But in some fleeting moments, when Sam insisted on having you behind him so that he could protect you when you went into a haunted building or a cemetery, or in a diner when you locked eyes for just a little too long, or how frantic he’d become whenever you were injured beyond the common scrape or concussion that came easily about hunters, you wondered.

You wondered what it would be like for him to love you so much that he dedicated every breath, fight, and step to you; that he couldn’t bear to see you upset or angry, because it only incited the same feelings in his own gut; that he hated every second that someone approached you in a bar or diner, because he wanted to be the one to do it. You wished that Sam loved you the way that you so wholeheartedly loved him.

But it was wrong. How could you ever force him to love you, when it wasn’t his conscious mind making the decision? You couldn’t. That was the problem. You’d have to cook up another wish.

Well, you would’ve. If a waiter hadn’t accidentally bumped into you, causing you to drop the coin into the water of the fountain. Before you could stop it, a sharp gasp came from your throat as it plopped into the water.

Shit.

Maybe it hadn’t counted, because you hadn’t actually.. wished for it? You were scraping at the bottom of the barrel for some mercy from whatever god was watching over you.

You quickly snapped your head up to watch Sam, trying to decipher whether or not he felt any different at the moment. You stared, horrified, at your friend. You really really hoped that the wish hadn’t worked.

“Great, you two done? We’ve gotta figure this out.”

Sam said, his usually sassy nature poking through the edges. You breathed an internal sigh of relief. It hadn’t done anything. He was still your Sam, and he wasn’t going to start flailing to kiss the ground that you walked on anytime soon, which was very, very comforting.

Later, back in the motel room, you guys figured out that the ‘magic’ wishing well, had actually held a cursed coin that wasn’t supposed to be an act of good grace at all—it was essentially an object to cause chaos wherever it went and whoever wished upon it—hence why Dean was puking up his sandwich in the bathroom. It granted someone’s wish, only to twist it back on them and turn it into something, you guessed it! Chaotic.

While Dean was in the bathroom for the hundredth time, you couldn’t help but spare a glance at Sam, who was sitting across from you at the small table, typing away on his computer, trying to find out more. You just had to make sure.

“Hey, Sam?” You asked, timidly. You were immediately met with Sam’s piercing gaze, his frantic typing on his computer halting momentarily as you consumed his full attention.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He inquired, noticing the slightly nervous glint in your eyes. “Everything alright?”

You scrambled for an excuse. “Yeah, yeah! Of course, yeah, I’m fine. Just uh.. I was wondering.. how you were.. feeling?” Well. That was about the dumbest thing you’d ever said. This was so humiliating. How were you ever going to explain this to him?

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. “Uh.. fine? Why, should I be in the bathroom with Dean, or something?”

“No, no. I was just.. wondering if he was contagious or anything. Do you.. feel any different than you did this morning?” You poked at his psyche, hoping to get a clear answer out of him without actually admitting what you’d wished for.

“Um, no. No, I feel fine. I’m sure he’s not contagious, I mean, it was his wish, so..” Sam retorted, a bit confused, but willing to explain it to you. Classic Sam.

“Right, right. Of course.” You said immediately afterward, before looking down at your hands and fiddling with the skin between your fingers. Nervous habit.

Sam noticed. He always noticed. He knew you a little too well, you decided. “Are you feeling okay? You’re acting a little squirrelly.” He deducted. What a little detective.

A very inconvenient detective.

And what did you do? You hesitated. Probably the worst thing to do in front of a man who knew you more than even you probably did.

His confusion quickly morphed into concern. The kind that consumed his entire expression and straightened his posture.

“_______? Are you okay?”

You panicked. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m okay, promise.” God you were an idiot, going belly up instead of just explaining to him what was going on. Coward.

Sam only stiffened more, staring at you, as if trying to get you to unveil your secrets by just piercing you with his intense gaze.

“Hey.. what did you wish for, earlier?” He asked, now extremely suspicious and worried for your well-being.

Before you could even get the chance to try and convince him that nothing was going on and that you were fine, Dean emerged from the bathroom with a towel gripped into his hand, held haphazardly to his mouth, as if to catch anything that decided to spew from it at any given point

“Sam.. how the hell do we fix this?” Dean asked desperately, nearly keeling over at the cramps in his stomach as he held it tightly.

After finding out who the original wisher was, you three were gearing up to go head to his house and talk some sense into him, and take his coin out of the fountain to undo all of the wishes.

You were loading yourself up with weapons, as hunters usually did, before glancing over at the nightstand that Sam was standing next to, seeing your little pocket knife that you carried around on it. You were loading your pistol and putting it in your waistband.

“Hey, Sam? Could you hand me my knife?” You asked, nodding towards the little silver thing on the table.

He glanced over at you, gave you a once over, before looking at the knife next to him on the nightstand.

“Uh.. you can’t just grab it yourself?” He said, his tone seeping with a kind of undercurrent of irritation. It caught you completely off guard.

“I.. you’re closer.” You were even more confused now, looking at him, as he stared at you with frustration and disdain. Was it something you’d done? Why was he acting like this?

“Why did you even take it off in the first place, _______? What if something had busted in here? You would’ve been completely unprepared.” He snapped, now turning towards you.

“Dude, what’s your deal? She put her knife down for a couple of hours, what’s got your panties in a twist?” Dean jumped into the conversation. Dean was just as much of your friend as Sam was, so he obviously jumped in to defend you if he thought that Sam was in the wrong.

“My deal Dean, is that you sleep with a gun under your pillow, and I never take mine off of me. So what, she just gets to be completely unguarded while we have to fight to save her ass? I’m so sick of her being such a little freeloader.” Sam retorted, aggression and venom practically bleeding from his mouth as he said it.

“Freeloader? How many times have I saved your ass? And you wanna call me a freeloader? What’s your problem, Sam? You were fine just a minute ago, and now you want to tear out my throat?” You yelled back, your short temper getting the best of you while you were under verbal siege.

“Yeah, well maybe I’m just sick of your bullshit, _______! I mean, you hardly contribute anything at all. God, you are such a nuisance.” He scoffed and turned his back to you. Now you were pissed.

“I’m a nuisance? What the hell is your fucking problem! Why are you being such an asshole right now?”

“Alright, guys, knock it off!” Dean tried to cut in over the noise, but he was just yelled over anyways.

Sam let out a bitter laugh and turned around to yell at you. But this time, he took an intimidating step closer. Not that you backed down, you weren’t a pussy. But you’d still never seen him try to walk up on you like this.

“Because I fucking hate you, _______! I hate how much you talk, your dumbass laugh, your stupid clothes, the way you follow us around like a lost puppy, I mean seriously, it’s pathetic. You slow us down, you’re hardly as trained as me and Dean are, I mean you’re just one giant inconvenience for the both of us! Why don’t you do everyone around here a favor and leave us the hell alone!” He bellowed, now only a mere six inches from your face, maybe. Towering over you.

The words struck you harder than you cared to admit. Tears pricked your eyes and threatened to fall as they welled up on your bottom lids. You almost physically recoiled, like you had taken a blow that you were massively unprepared for.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Dean cut in, storming over to Sam, grabbing his shoulder and shoving him back away from you, giving you the opportunity to breathe. “I don’t know what the hell your issue is, Sammy, but you need to fix it! You’re being a dick!” He yelled, now between you and Sam like a human shield.

You had heard enough. You took in a deep breath that came out as more of a sniffle, shoved past Dean and right up to the nightstand with your knife on it, pocketing it. You couldn’t believe that something so small had caused Sam to admit that he actually despised you. Practically from head to toe, by the sound of it.

You wiped the tears away from your cheeks and stormed past Sam, and towards the door to the motel room.

“I’ll be in the car.” Your voice was short, clipped, and undeniably hurt. You slammed the door so hard behind you that you were sure the floors below and above you heard it echo.

“Nice going, doofus.” Dean snapped at Sam as soon as you’d gone, continuing to gear himself up. Sam only rolled his eyes and scoffed in retort.

When all was said and done, and the curse was reversed, the coin melted down to nothing of use, you three found yourselves back in the motel room once again.

You’d been in a pissy mood ever since the interaction with Sam had happened. He’d been snappy and irate with you the entire time after the initial interaction about the stupid fucking knife. For good reason. And now that Sam’s head had cleared, he knew that it was a damn good reason, too.

You’d gotten in the shower immediately upon your return to the room, and had been in there ever since. This gave Dean the opportunity to talk to Sam without either you or him tearing each other apart.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that whole thing was about earlier?” Dean said, accusatory almost immediately because of the interaction they’d had earlier.

“I..” Sam sighed, looking at the carpet, “don’t know. I just..- I got so angry, I don’t even..-“

“Yeah, I figured, Sherlock Holmes. Nice detective work, there. Real Nobel Peace Prize winning.” Dean retorted, causing Sam to sigh once again.

“No, you don’t get it, Dean, I.. I really did hate her for a good minute there.” Sam admitted, finally turning towards his older brother, almost for answers. “I can’t explain it, I just.. I don’t know, dude.”

Dean stopped for a moment, the cogs in his head slowly turning as he tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with his brother. “That doesn’t make sense. You love-“

“Exactly, Dean. I love her. So I don’t know why I started acting like she was Hitler reincarnated, she just.. really pissed me off.”

“By asking for her damn knife?” Dean asked incredulously.

“I don’t know, Dean!” Sam snapped, before sighing and running a stressed hand through his hair.

Guilt ate away at him like a rotting disease. He couldn’t believe he’d said all those things to you, especially when absolutely none of it was true. He didn’t think you were a freeloader, he loved taking care of you. He loved listening to you talk, he loved hearing you laugh, he thought that your clothes were absolutely gorgeous on you, and he loved having you there 24/7, just.. following. It was endearing, that you trusted him so much to lead you. He swore sometimes that you’d let him lead you straight into hell, just as long as he was in front of you.

He loved it all. Every flaw, every perfection, every little thing that made you human. That made you, you; for lack of better words.

“Could it have been that curse?” Dean suggested, just as confused as Sam was about the whole ordeal.

“No.. no, it couldn’t have been. I didn’t feel any different before, I just..-“ He cut himself off, recalling the interaction that the two of you had earlier.

You never did tell him what you’d wished for.

And what was the opposite of hate?

“Oh, my god..” Sam groaned, running a hand over his face in realization.

“What? What’s up?” Dean asked, intrigued.

“Uh..” Sam sighed, turning to look back at the carpet, “nothing. Nothing, um.. you know what, Dean? I’m starving. Would you mind going out and getting some food?”

“What? No, tell me what the hell is-“

“Dean.”

The soft scold from Sam caught Dean’s attention, causing him to look at his younger sibling, a bit confused.

“I need to talk to _______. You should really go out and get some food while I do.” Sam repeated suggestively, hoping that Dean would finally get the hint and get the hell out of the motel room for a little while.

Finally, Dean reached the realization with a soft, understanding ‘ah’ and a nod, a lewd smirk on his face. “Right. Well, you know the rules,” he said, getting up and grabbing his keys and coat, “don’t do anything on my bed, don’t get anything on my bed, wear a condom—“

“Just get the hell out of here, Dean.” Sam chuckled, causing Dean to throw him a wink and slip out of the motel room quickly.

Sam wasn’t waiting long before you emerged from the bathroom, a sour expression still adorning your pretty face. God, he had to fix this. You looked so upset. He couldn’t even image.

His voice brought you out of your thoughts as you ran a brush through your wet hair. “Hey.”

You froze, for a moment or two, contemplating on even replying to him or not. You were still insanely pissed off. You decided to do it. “Oh, so what, you want to talk to me like I’m a person now? Or wait, sorry, I didn’t realize you spoke puppy.” You snapped, referring to his ‘lost puppy’ comment from before.

Sam flinched slightly with a quiet wince, as if your response had physically pained him to hear. He rose from the edge of the bed and approached you slowly, not wanting to upset or scare you like he’d done earlier. “Look, I know you’re upset-“

“Upset?” You laughed sarcastically and looked over at him. “Upset doesn’t even begin to skim the surface, Sam.” You barked, before turning and walking towards the couch, which you’d made into a makeshift bed. You always took the couch, because you were not going to sleep with Dean, who was practically an active octopus while he slept, or with Sam, for.. obvious reasons.

Sam sighed, but stood his ground. “I know. I know I screwed up. I’m sorry I was such a dick to you, okay? I don’t know why I was acting like that.” He said, telling a small little fib to weasel his way in with you. He’d had a pretty good idea on why. He just needed you to confirm it.

“I think.. I actually think it was the curse.” He admitted, and he noticed immediately when he saw you stiffen slightly.

“Why.. why would you think that?” You asked, slightly nervous, but still upset, so you had an excuse to not look up at him while he spoke to you.

He took a step closer. Fuck. You were royally screwed.

He ignored your question. “You didn’t tell me what your wish was earlier.” He said, taking another slow, deliberate step forward. You felt cornered. You shook your head lightly.

“It.. wasn’t much of a wish, I didn’t..- I didn’t mean to toss the coin in, that guy bumped into me, remember?” You scrambled to get even a scrap of an excuse to get you out of this hole you’d dug yourself into.

But, metaphorically, Sam was standing above you, holding an escape ladder tantalizingly in the air above you, daring you to admit it to his face, so that he’d allow your precious escape. He was standing so close now.

The same distance he’d been before, but less intimidating now, and with a new kind of tension that hadn’t been hanging in the air previously. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed against your arm.

“Yeah? Well, what were you going to wish for?” He asked, his voice only a low hum compared to what it usually was. He stared at the side of your face, waiting for some kind of expression that told him what was going on inside your head.

“I.. um..” you didn’t even have the guts to respond. How could you tell him? It was horrible. And your hesitation was the reaction that Sam needed. The one that told him he was pushing on the right button.

“You asked me how I was feeling earlier, too. Why?” It kind of felt like an interrogation on your end, and as your last, flailing attempt to escape from his silent torment, you sighed shakily and rolled your eyes, hiding behind hardened emotions to get him to drop it.

“Because Dean was sick. You know that already, why are you even asking?” You said petulantly, making an attempt to push past him, to put some distance between the two of you. But that plan fell short when Sam gently wrapped his large palm around the flesh of your upper arm, holding you firmly in place.

“Right. And it’s definitely not because you wished for me to fall in love with you today, right?”

Your breath hitched. You were sure that your face had turned all sorts of bright pink because of how warm your skin felt on your bones. You finally risked a glance up at his face, and he held a small, knowing smirk there, waiting for you.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about…” you murmured softly.

“Don’t I? You know what’s the opposite of love, _______? Hate. The coin, it made everything go to chaos, right?” He said, and before you could even respond, he continued.

“You wondered why it didn’t affect me at first? It was because I was already in love with you.” He said it so shamelessly, like he hadn’t been shoving the feeling down for god only knows how long, like he hadn’t been terrified that the day he finally told you, would be the day that he lost you. But he didn’t care about any of that anymore. He just needed you to know that he didn’t hate you. He never could.

Your face flushed, and you stared up at him with wide eyes. He sighed softly and brought his hand up to gently caress, then cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb gently over the plump skin there.

“I love the sound of your voice, the way that you talk; I love your laugh and your smile; I love how kind and passionate you are; I love how you feel like you can let me protect you, even when you know you can do it yourself— I love you, _______. Please, honey, you have to believe me.” Sam’s voice faded quietly into somewhat of a whispered plea, hoping that his words had gotten through to you, and that you knew he’d never hated you.

You, on the other hand, were completely gobsmacked with disbelief and awe. Sam. Your Sam. He was in love with you? That was why the wish hadn’t worked? Sam was in love with you? You felt like crawling out of your skin and dying there—because at least then, you’d die a happy woman, knowing that the man you loved, reciprocated. If only you could remain in this moment, forever.

“I.. you..” you struggled to find the words for a moment, before swallowing down a heavy saliva that had weighed on your tongue for a bit now, “but you said..-“

“I know what I said. Believe me, I know what I said, damnit.” He said, the guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders, and seeping deep into his bones. It showed in the soft murmur of his tone, the dip in his voice. “I.. don’t hate you. I could never hate anything about you, sweetheart. You’re perfect..” he muttered, laying his brow against your own and removing the hand from your arm now.

Sam’s now free hand went up to cup your other cheek, and you could feel his breath fanning over the skin on your face. Your breath stuttered in your throat.

“You’re just saying that..-“ you tried to retort, but he shut you up quickly.

“I’m not. Really, I’m not. I don’t hate anything about you.” He said, still trying to desperately convince you.

“You will. Eventually.” You replied grimly, your hands coming up to rest against his wrists gently, soaking up his presence as much as you possibly could.

Sam only shook his head softly, silently disagreeing with you, but he didn’t want to argue. His thumbs rubbed stripes along your cheekbones, his touch was reverent, almost worshiping, like he was holding the heavens and the earth in his hands. Something precious.

One of his hands trailed down from your cheek, to your neck, collarbone, lower until he was brushing against your stomach briskly, before finally settling possessively on your hip. It was just then that you truly knew how big he was compared to you. Just by the weight and size of his hand on your skin.

Your breath shook, and Sam’s other hand started to trail up into your hair, the back of your head, his touch slow, and deliberate. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, almost as lost as you were, before they snapped back open and landed on your own. “Tell me to stop..” he prayed quietly.

You only gazed up at those hazel eyes, and shook your head with a soft, timid, “No.”

And it seemed like that had just snapped Sam’s carefully held restraint completely in two.

He sighed heavily and slammed his lips up against yours. Out of all the times that you’d imagined yourself kissing Sam for the first time, you’d always imagined that it would be soft. Careful. Deliberate. But it was actually far from it.

Your mouths clashed together in a desperate, heated mixture of teeth and tongue, you both panting for air, and yet not daring to pull away and break the delicate atmosphere. Sam’s tongue swiped long swathes against your own, the feeling of your different salivas mixing and coating the insides of your mouths intoxicating to both parties.

His grip on your hip tightened, and his hand in your hair became demanding, taking a fistful of it and pushing you deeper into him. He pulled you closer by your hip, causing your back to arch slightly against him, and he took that to his full advantage.

You could feel the shit-eating grin on his face against your lips before you saw it, and you knew that he had to be up to something. His hand traveled from his hip to the lower dip in your back, pressing you further into him, and making you arch back even more, which only lead to him having to lean over you to kiss you properly, delicately reminding you how you were smaller than him.

His hand slipped underneath your shirt desperately, taking a step forward and letting your knees hit the back of his mattress, before pushing you down. As you sat, your kiss was broken, leaving you both panting, gasping for air that you’d taken from each other.

Sam looked down at you, tilting your head back up to look at him by your chin. This was his way of giving you an out if you wanted it. If you weren’t ready. His eyes held a silent question. Are you ready? Do you want this? Do you want me? In response to every single one of them, you only sighed and reached up, cupping your hands behind the back of his neck and bringing him in close, clashing your lips together again.

He certainly had no problem with that. He let out a deep, guttural groan that filled you head-to-toe with that one bass-y note, the vibrations against your lips enough to make you moan back. He quickly swallowed the noise and went to ease you onto your back. Excitement and arousal coursed through your veins, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Sam had slowly been lowering you more and more, until he had you on your elbows underneath him, just about to make that final push to have you on your back, splayed out for him, just like he’d dreamed of time and time again. He let out a shaky sigh and broke your kiss, much to your dismay.

You tried to chase his lips with a soft whine, only to have him shift his weight to one arm, using his now free hand to grab your jaw and tilt it away. He didn’t leave you confused for very long.

His lips trailed wet, hot kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving small bite marks and hickeys as he went. Now that he had you, he wasn’t going to hold back. He would be the only person to see you like this. He’d be the only one to see the marks he left on your skin. Sam wasn’t much of a show off anyways.

Your head tilted back naturally as you panted and moaned softly into the air, whining whenever he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot in the expanse of your skin. One of his knees came to rest between your legs, pressing up into your core tantalizingly.

You squirmed and pressed into him with an equal amount of fervor, feeling another satisfied grin on his face press against the skin of your bed as you did.

You were a mess already. Your hair was tousled, as was his, both pairs of lips were pink and swollen, and your shirt was now somewhat rearranged on your bodice. You were sure that your cheeks were flushed to high hell, too.

So, that being said, it was probably the absolute worst timing when the lock to the motel clicked, and the door swung open.

You let out a quick gasp, pulling away from Sam and staring, horrified, at the door where Dean was now currently standing, staring at the scene before him, frozen. You let out a soft, embarrassed little sigh, hiding your face away from Dean into Sam’s shoulder. That one little noise, paired with the action, made Sam absolutely melt against you. He quickly gathered himself with a deep breath, turning back to Dean.

“Sorry, dude.” He apologized sheepishly.

“Eh, it’s alright, just uh.. wrap it before you tap it, you know.” Dean said awkwardly, earning him a glare from you. He cleared his throat, and with a soft ‘okay’, went to leave the room, before quickly coming back and setting one of the bags of food on the ground next to the door for you two later to share.

“For you, uh.. I’ll.. I’ll leave you be. Yeah. Um.. yeah.” He said, before finally slipping out of the room and locking the door behind him. For a moment, you and Sam shared a quiet look, before bursting out into crippling laughter that had you both gripping onto each other for support.

God, you loved hearing him laugh. Genuinely laugh. Your world had been all kinds of fucked up recently, and it was a rare sight to even see him really smile anymore. So whenever you did, you savored every second of it, worried that the moment would pass faster than you could comprehend.

Once the laughter died down, and the mood turned a bit softer once more, Sam just quietly sat and watched you, hovering above by his hands planted on either side of your head. You only stared back quietly, before finally breaking out into a content smile.

“What?” You asked sweetly.

Sam only sighed and leaned in, pressing chaste, loving kisses against your neck again. Much less ravenously than before. “Just.. admiring. You’re gorgeous.” He conferred, trailing the kisses everywhere from your jaw to your collarbone, his hands beginning to wander up your shirt again, a little slower this time.

Your breath hitched and you gripped his shoulders, moaning out a soft little, “Sam..” as he continued his ministrations.

“Shh, I know, honey.. I’ve got a lot of making up to do, you know? Just.. lie back, baby. I’ll take care of you.” He murmured quietly against your skin, trailing his kisses a bit farther down.

The man knew how to keep a promise. ‘Cause oh lord, did he make it up to you.

notes: AAHHHHHHHH!!! First tumblr story, I think it’s pretty solid. A little rushed at the end, because it’s currently almost one in the morning, and I have school tomorrow lol but I didn��t want to break my train of thought. Let me know what you think!! If you have any tips, I’d really appreciate them! Thx!

Xoxo,

Happy Reading! ❤️

#sam winchester x reader #supernatural #sam winchester smut #sam winchester #fluff #x reader #fem!reader #smut

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space-invading-pigeon · 5 months ago

Text

Hellfire Adopts Steve Pt. 2

Pt 1

Eddie may be repeating his senior year, but he's no idiot. He's intuitive, a quick thinker, and generally, he's an excellent judge of character. Which is exactly why he protested Gareth's decision to drag Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High and current King of Don't Fuck With Me, to lunch with Hellfire.

Jeff and Freak are both genuinely terrified to have His Royal Highness picking at subpar mashed potatoes in the uncomfortable plastic chair across from them; to his credit, Steve Harrington seemed unbothered by the situation, even as Princess Nancy Wheeler and her own little pet outcast Jonathan pass him on the way to their own table. Eddie watches with growing interest as Steve boredly ignores Nancy's attempt to catch his eye (it's almost hilarious- he'd been at the Halloween party last month where Nancy got absolutely shitfaced and then screamed at Steve in front of the entire student body, and yet here they are, Nancy trying awkwardly to speak to Steve and Steve resolutely going about his business).

Gareth stammers through a story about their latest DnD campaign, his round face practically glowing with excitement as he uses the peas on his tray to illustrate what their party had been up against. Eddie fully expects Steve to say something rude, dousing Gareth's smile and deserving every bit of ire Eddie can muster, but Steve just smiles at Gareth and ruffles his hand through the unkempt curls Eddie's been trying to get Gareth to take care of.

From there it only gets weirder. Steve seems to have taken a real shine to Gareth and is nothing short of a perfect gentleman to Jeff and Freak, but he loves to bicker with Eddie. Honestly, Eddie's impressed at just how much Steve seems to like bitching at people.

Steve is also surprisingly responsible? After that first lunch, Steve is around all the time; he shows up to Hellfire meetings with his backpack full of homework and a Tupperware full of something delicious (Eddie had nearly cried the first time he took a bite of Steve's macaroni), only to completely ignore their entire session to study. Occasionally, the walkie Steve carries with him whenever they aren't in school will crackle to life, and Steve will make himself scarce pretty quickly.

Overall, Steve is awesome. Eddie hates to admit it, but watching such a prim and proper guy emotionally destroy someone for commenting on Freak's size, and Eddie just knows that the damage done to Tommy Hagan's car after Gareth showed up to Hellfire with a busted lip and glassy eyes was Steve's fault.

========

Steve is actually really enjoying his time in Hellfire. He doesn't really mention it to the kids, and both Nancy and Jonathan are still avoiding him, so Steve sees it as a win: he gets to make friends who haven't seen him get his ass beat by interdimensional horrorterrors that have ruined dogs and flowers for him forever, he gets to learn more about the game his new little brother is obsessed with, and innocent kids don't have to bear the brunt of King Billy's reign of terror.

Gareth decides almost instantly that he likes Steve; not only because he saved Gareth from bullies or brings them food better even than Wayne Munson's, but because Steve always listens to his DnD stories. Jeff and Freak (who Steve will only refer to by his Government Name, Melvin) grow to like him as well, not at all encouraged by the food Steve brings or (on one memorable occasion) the incredibly realistic melee weapon, straight out of a flick like Red Dawn, that they found under his seat one day.

#steve harrington #steddie #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson #stranger things #hellfire adopts steve au #bet yall thought i was dead #but no #ive been captivated by another neurodivergent mess

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brawberryz · 2 months ago

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The fallen warrior

Batfam Yan! × Negleted! Reader

��Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error / M.list

Tw: yandere behavior, manipulation, murder, torture, isolation, child neglect, child abandonment, mommy/daddy issues, use of katanas/knives, gore, eating disorders, hallucinations, corruption, dark themes, religious themes

The devil is real

He's not a little red guy with a tail and horns

He may be beautiful

Because he was a fallen angel, and God's favorite

A fallen angel destined to burn in the flames for his actions

You kept looking at your food without touching it, it was another lonely night in the mansion

It was the same old routine

Getting up

Training

Going on a mission

And 'eating'

Even though that food entered your mouth years ago, every time a bite entered your mouth you ended up throwing up

Any normal parent would have started to worry because their child wasn't eating

But you knew your family didn't care, nothing mattered

You got up from the table and threw your food on Titus' plate

You went back up to your room, the only noise in the mansion was the thuds of your footsteps on the old floors of the mansion

You opened your room it looked as dirty and messy as ever, it was far away from all the other rooms

You walked in and closed the door as you took off your clothes and left them lying somewhere in the room

Your bathroom felt cold and lifeless, some shampoo bottles lying around and other things you didn't even remember you had

The cold drops from the shower fell down your scarred body, your body shuddered when the soap touched those unhealed scars

Your body was full of them, in a way you felt disgusting about it

Some were from battles lost or won, others you caused yourself but they all had a story to tell

You leaned against the shower wall as the water fell on you

You felt tired

Tired of this life

Tired of having to pretend that you weren't affected by what others said about you

You could still remember those moments, you just stayed quiet and bowed your head

You were just a dog, a pet

A pet that would do anything for a prize

And that prize was their attention

Sometimes you thought about retiring from everything, being a person "normal" but you knew it was impossible

The only thing you knew how to do was hurt others, you were raised to be a weapon

A monster

They took an innocent child and turned him into a weapon to fulfill the whims of others

A bird whose wings were broken so that it could never fly

A bird in which it sees other birds flying from its cage

A bird that also wishes to be free

A bird that wants to be free

When a child grows up without love in their family

Being ignored and hurt all the time, most people believe that they will end up being aggressive people

Full of hate and resentment

And although it is a valid response, it is not always the case

They grow up feeling ashamed

Ashamed of themselves

Ashamed of not being able to be themselves, ashamed of not being able to show their emotions

Ashamed because they believe they are not enough

They believe that love must be earned

They believe that because their parents never gave them the affection they needed meant that they were never enough

They are afraid of not being loved

Of making a mistake and being ignored again

Of being hurt again

Ending up distancing themselves from everyone, being ashamed of being helped

Ashamed of asking for help

Broken people who unintentionally end up breaking others

And they also end up breaking themselves more

Your body moved faster than normal, this was supposed to be an easy mission

That's what your father told you, you just had to stop another stupid plan from your riddler and everything would be fine

But it wasn't, his riddles were confusing but you were smart and it was easy to solve them

But then you realized that it was all a trap, he had snuck the bomb somewhere else

It was all a trap, a very clever trap

You had little time but I wasn't going to let innocent people die

You arrived faster than you thought, you broke one of the building's windows to enter the place

You went through the entire abandoned place until you heard the crying and calls for help from some people

You entered the large room and found people inside a transparent box

Next to them was the bomb connected to a cable, you had to be fast if you didn't want people and this whole place to end up destroyed

You tried to deactivate the bomb but it was in In vain, you even tried to destroy them but it was in vain

So you decided to free the people, you took all those scared people to a fire escape and told them to get down as fast as possible

I wasn't going to let everyone get crushed

You sent a call to the batcave saying you needed help

You weren't going to be able to get all the people near this building to leave

In a few minutes it was going to be destroyed by the bomb and you needed help

It was the first time you asked someone in the family for help, you always did it alone

You never asked anyone for help, you thought you were weak

Your mother came from a dangerous family, full of sorcerers and powerful assassins

And your father was literally batman

You couldn't be weak, you couldn't allow yourself to ask for help

But now you really needed it

You were strong

But sometimes even the strongest needed help

When you were sending the signal you heard a cry, this one didn't sound like the others

It seemed more childish and scared

You walked through all the halls following the sound

It was supposed that only these people would be here but you were wrong

In a small room there was a little girl crying while she was lying on the floor

You approached her trying to calm her down, saying that everything would be okay

She clung to your suit scared that something would happen

"Calm down little girl, I'll get you out of-"

And then you heard it, the sound of the bomb

The clock had stopped meaning that the bomb was going to explode right now

This wasn't supposed to happen, there was still too much time before the bomb was detonated

"Shit!"

All you could remember was the sound of the bomb exploding and the building shaking, the girl cried louder and you tried to protect her with your own body

The building ended up falling leaving a mess all over the street, broken cars and you could hear the ambulances and firefighters approaching the area

You felt your body weak, you thought you had received all the damage

Since you could swear that almost all the games in your body were broken

"Hey little girl, are you okay-"

You couldn't believe what you saw, your arms and suit were covered in blood

The lifeless body of the girl, that scared look was still in her eyes

She was dead

No, no, NO!

This isn't supposed to happen, heroes are supposed to save everyone

And now because of you someone as innocent as a child is dead

Your body couldn't move, you could only cradle the lifeless body of the little girl

Your mother was right

A monster will never stop being a monster even if it acts nice

Your mother's soft hands cleaned your blood covered body

"Mommy is so proud of you honey, you did perfect"

You could only watch as the water in the bath turned red as the blood left your body

But you could still feel the blood

It was like it was stuck to your skin, no matter how many times you tried to clean it off that blood never went away

Your mother's hands cradled your face

You accepted the affection she gave you, it was rare that she acted so kind to you

There were times where she acted like you were the best thing that ever happened to her

And there were other times where she simply treated you like garbage

She gave you love and understanding and then took it all away from you

It was a cycle that repeated itself all the time, you wanted her to always be proud of you

You wanted her to hold you at night when those nightmares kept you awake

Her love was so shallow and fake

Your hugs felt so cold and uncomfortable

Mom

Am I still young?

Can I sleep in your arms?

Would you still love me after all I did?

Look into my eyes and tell me

Tell me I'm enough

Tell me I've done enough

Please

Just look at me

Look at me

Your eyes slowly opened, you felt your body burning

You saw the bandages that covered your body, and one of your arms was in a cast

Great

Now you weren't going to be able to train in peace anymore, although you didn't care

When you were with your mother and her clan they made you fight even if all your bones were broken

A simple broken arm wasn't going to stop you, and your family would never care

You had been on the verge of death too many times and they never cared

You got up from your bed staggering a little but you held on to the small piece of furniture next to your bed

You mentally told yourself that you could do it

You weren't weak

You couldn't see yourself weak

You left your room limping a little, with every step you took you felt your bones hurt

You passed by Bruce without even looking at him, you didn't want to see him or talk to him

"You have a broken arm"

Your father said making you stop

You sighed tiredly, you didn't have enough spirit to talk or argue with him

"I know, I'm not blind"

When you were about to leave you felt a hand on your shoulder, that sudden contact made your skin crawl

Since the first time you arrived at the mansion you had had very little contact with him, only some morning greetings that were rarely returned

"You're hurt, you must rest, now"

He gave you those looks that he only gave to criminals when he was being batman

But he didn't intimidate you, he never did

You pushed his hand away with a sharp movement

"Don't touch me, don't pretend that you care about me when we all know that you don't"

You said for the last time before leaving through the halls without even listening to what he said to you

You didn't want to hear it, His words weren't worth it

You didn't need him, you were fine on your own

All people were cruel and mean

In a world as selfish and evil as this, you're either the prey or you're the hunter

And you stopped being the prey a long time ago

After that strange and awkward encounter Bruce was left wondering

What was wrong with you?

Why are you acting so angry? He thought it was because of the recent events of your previous mission.

But something about your rejection made his chest hurt. Why are you rejecting him like that?

Maybe he wasn't the best father, but he tried

Well, he tried to be a good father to others

But not to you

Those thoughts kept him awake at night

He couldn't even have a quiet day without that thought of guilt consuming him completely

He tried to get close to you for a few days But all he got was a dirty look and an insult

You refused any kind of interaction from him, you didn't even let him touch your shoulder

He thought you just didn't like physical contact, but when he saw you hug Alfred it made something inside him flare up with anger

And soon your attention became more than just an interest, it became an obsession

Why did you treat others so well but not your family?

And this strange behavior did not go unnoticed by the others

Richard was the first to notice it, he saw how Bruce tried to spend more time with you

Which seemed strange to him, before Bruce seemed too disinterested but now it seemed as if something turned on inside Bruce

He thought he was just being paranoid or plotting something

He decided to go talk to you, surely you would have answers!

"Fuck you" was the only thing that came out of your mouth when Richard asked you something

Richard's face changed drastically when those words left your mouth

Why were you so defensive?

"Excuse me?"

"What you heard, fuck you I don't care what happens to Bruce, if you want answers go and ask him, don't be fucking me up with stupid questions"

You said one last time before closing the door to your room in his face

Richard was left processing everything that happened

What the fuck was that?

He knocked on the door again but no one answered

Why were you rejecting him like that?

He's supposed to be your older brother! Why did you treat him like that

Although well, he doesn't remember the time that either of you talked

But you should have at least had one conversation, right?

God...

He really screwed up

You thought Richard would be the last person to bother you but sadly that wasn't the case

It felt like the whole family had come together to notice you existed for the first time in your life

And you hated that

You hated being treated like you didn't know what they did to you

But you weren't going to give in that easily, if they wanted something from you they could fuck off

You weren't going to let anyone hurt you again

I'm not your friend

I'm not your partner

I'm not your sister

And I'm not your daughter

I bite

"Hey (name)!, do you-"

"Fuck you Tim"

You didn't even give him time to speak when those words cut through you like knives

You didn't even think about it, they came out on automatic

He just stood there with the words hanging in his head as he watched you walk away from him

He felt something weird when you so rudely rejected his invitation

You just walked away disinterested, you didn't feel like talking to him

You didn't have time to talk about stupid things

Seriously, what's wrong with this family?

First your father, then Richard and now Tim!?

You need a break right now

Apparently Tim wasn't the only one who started to take an interest in you

When your father sent you and Damian on patrol you thought it was the worst thing that could happen to you tonight

But you were wrong

You hated that little demon with all your soul, his mere presence made you want to break his neck or run katanas through his body

You were both agile and it was normal

You two were sons of powerful and dangerous mothers

Sometimes you thought Bruce had some fetish for women who could easily kill him

The patrol was "normal" or if you could call it that

You could feel Damian's penetrating gaze on your neck

"What the hell is wrong with you? You've been looking at me like that the whole patrol"

You said without thinking when you two stopped at a building to rest

You couldn't stand it anymore, you were a direct person and you were tired of having to put up with his childish behavior

"Nothing's wrong with me"

"Liar"

You accused him, you knew when someone was lying or hiding something from you

Damian didn't answer and ignored you the whole patrol

And it's not like you cared

But what Damian hadn't told you was that he was jealous

The previous week he saw you hug a child and give him affection on a mission

Bruce had sent some members of batfam on a rescue mission

And seeing you comfort someone made him jealous, why did you treat a strange child that way?

The way you hugged that child and whispered to him that everything would be okay made his blood boil with jealousy

He's supposed to be your real brother, why did you treat a stranger better than him!?

It wasn't fair

He wanted that affection too

And he wanted it just for himself

You could say that Jason was the worst, one day he just decided to show up in your room and force you into the mansion's library

You protested for him to put you down but he just ignored you

He literally had you on his back like a sack of potatoes, he made you sit down reluctantly in one of those comfy chairs

He sat down next to you and started reading

Was this some kind of joke!?

He literally pulled you out of your comfy bed and then brought you here to sit down doing nothing??

"I'm leaving"

"No, you're not"

You said without flinching as he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and made you sit back down

You just grumbled and swore

You sat there for hours, you started to tease him thinking that this way he would let you go

"Can I go now?"

"No"

"And now I can go now?"

"No"

"I can-"

"NO"

He said that last word annoyed forcing you to sit down again

This day was going to be very long and strange...

And as the days passed this obsession grew more in them

To a point where they didn't even let you make your own decisions

For some strange reason you had some family member watching your every move all the time

It got to a point where it was just suffocating

And you tried to escape, maybe you could go back to your clan

I was sure your mother would welcome you with open arms

Yeah, you betrayed your clan and killed almost half of their sorcerers and assassins but it was for a good reason

But this time you weren't going to be so lucky

They weren't going to let you escape from their clutches so easily

"LET ME GO!"

You screamed trying to free yourself from your father's grip but it was in vain

He had you pressed against the cold floor of your room, he had caught you just as you tried to escape

You tried to fight but it was in vain, in size and strength he far surpassed you

"I didn't want to do this (name)"

"What are you talking about-"

You could barely finish your sentence when a scream of pain came from your annoying

You could feel that scream completely tearing your annoying

Your father

Your own father had broken one of your legs

You could feel how that place swelled and the only thing you could do was cry

He carried you in his arms while you tried to scratch his body But it was in vain

In this pitiful state you could never go anywhere

Your wings had been torn from your body, causing you to fall into that eternal fire

You fell like a jerk when he is shot by his prey

Maybe one day your wings will grow back

And you will be able to taste that sweet wind

But all you can do is admire that paradise that seems so far away but at the same time so close

Locked in a cage, of course the cage gives you love and food

But that will never change that it will continue to be a cage

An angel with cut wings

And a bird with broken wings

They both have the same dream

To be free

I like writing angst because people can't see when I'm venting and projecting

That aside, I hope you like this shit

I might make the story longer if I'm not too lazy

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artbyblastweave · 2 years ago

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Playing through Fallout:New Vegas for the first time in years. And I'm developing a newfound appreciation for the damage done to the intended pacing of the narrative with the addition of the Courier's Stash. I wake up in Goodsprings, and as part of the extended tutorial you have Ghosttown Gunfight, the fairly self-contained faction war between Goodsprings and the Powder Gangers. And the design intent, I think, is that this is probably supposed to be a pain in the ass, with only one or two avenues of support available to you given the low level at which you'll pick this one up. Six Powder Gangers, some in body-armor, would be a serious threat, and committing to fighting against that with your dinky 9mm and a varmint rifle seems like a rough time! An actual uphill battle, doing the right thing instead of the easy thing. Fortunately, Benny inexplicably left my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, so I cleaned up.

I'm working my way south, and, you know, in a version of the game where Benny didn't inexplicably leave my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, this would have been the knock-on effect of my "good" Karmic choice in defending Goodsprings; the road south is littered with powder gangers who'd have been neutral had I not kicked the hornet's nest. As it stands? Free experience. I hit Primm, and fighting through the cramped hallways of the Bison Steve I encounter an enemy armed with what was clearly supposed to be the first heavy weapon I'd encounter in the world. Tight Corridors. Inexplicable Grenade Launcher. I clean up. South I go to the Mojave outpost, Nipton, that whole thing. And clearly, clearly you aren't meant to take a swing at Vulpes here, right? You're supposed to take it in, get a sense for the legion. In the version of the game that shipped you're supposed to get bodied if you try to kick the beef gate here. There are allowances in the game for if you pull it off, sure, but I did try with just the service rifle, without the glorious first-strike capabilities afforded to me by the 40mm grenade launcher that Benny inexplicably left in the grave with me. It didn't go very well!

So now I'm dogged by Legion hit squads on my way to Novac, which I get the distinct impression was not the point in the game at which this was supposed to start happening to me, because I am gathering up some pretty expensive equipment, all sold for space. I punch through to Vegas, and at this stage, the clear developer intent is that you need to spend some time milling around Freeside or Camp McCarran in order to gain access to the Strip- do odd jobs to scrape up the money, buy the forgery from Mick and Ralphs, gain monorail access, get your science skill high enough to hack the robot. Get the lay of the land, get a feel for the people, send some time stewing in the human cost of House's walled garden before you head in and hear the pitch from the big man himself.

Except I've got 5000 caps from selling off all the legion killteam equipment. In I go!

And the fun thing is, right, the Courier's stash can't be diegetic, but it is having a very direct impact on the world here. A top legion guy just went down to my inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher. Whatever else I'm roleplaying as, I am roleplaying as a guy who woke up in the possession of an inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher, and neither I nor my character can plausibly ignore that fact given its terrible bloodstained utility. I play a man, a man who would be a good man, a man nonetheless bewitched by the terrible resolutory power of the grenade launcher. My best friend, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher! My worst enemy, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher!

#fallout #fallout new vegas #thoughts #meta #effortpost

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b1eedthefreak · 13 days ago

Note

heyy dear!! can you write some fluff about reader having to deal with a drunk bf daryl?

Heavyweight

daryl x reader

warnings: drinking

i hope you like this! :3

⸻

Alexandria was buzzing tonight.

The whole town felt brighter somehow, with lanterns hanging across the courtyard and warm yellow light glowing from every porch. Tables were covered with potluck, offerings whatever people could throw together and someone had dragged out an old stereo to play music. Kids darted between legs while adults leaned back in their chairs, laughing like they had nothing to be afraid of. For once.

And in the middle of it all was Rosita, smirking as she threw back another drink.

“You really think you can take him?” Tara was asking from beside her.

“Oh, I know I can,” she said confidently, tilting her chin toward Daryl.

Rick raised a brow, arms crossed. “I don’t know, Rosita… I think you might win this one.”

That was all it took.

Across the fire, Daryl grunted and picked up a bottle of something sharp and clear, and downed half of it without blinking.

You were a few feet away, deep in conversation with Carol near the drinks table.

“And I told her, Michonne if you bring back another cat statue, I swear—’”

You were laughing midsip when Carol stopped short, eyes going wide.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

You blinked. “What?”

Carol pointed with her cup. “Turn around.”

You did.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

Daryl, your quiet, brooding, stubborn boyfriend, was at the fire pit, laughing. Laughing. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glassy, and his hand was waving some bottle like a weapon of war. Rosita stood across from him, shaking her head in disbelief while Rick and Tara exchanged knowing looks.

“Oh no,” you said. “Oh no, no, no—”

“Too late,” Carol said, delighted. “He’s gone.”

You started marching over. “Daryl Dixon, what the hell are you doing?”

He turned to you, that lazy drunk grin spreading across his face like sunshine.

“M’winning,” he declared proudly.

“Winning what?” you asked, grabbing the bottle from his hand before he could raise it again.

“The uh… the contest.” He blinked slowly, like his brain had to load. “Rosita dared me.”

“It wasn’t a dare,” Rosita called. “It was a joke.”

Rick lifted his hands. “Tried to stop him.”

“Daryl, you’re drunk.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “Am not.”

You raised a brow.

“…A lil’ bit,” he admitted.

You sighed and stepped closer, cupping his cheek. “I know.”

He leaned into your touch instantly, nuzzling your palm like a sleepy dog. “Still handsome though… right?”

“My God,” you muttered. “Come on. You’re done for the night.”

He whined as you tugged his arm over your shoulder, but didn’t fight it. Just draped himself against you like dead weight, mumbling incoherently while the others watched with smirks.

“C’mon,” you said, pulling him along. “Let’s get you home.”

It took ten full minutes to get Daryl through the door.

He bumped into the frame twice. Almost fell over trying to toe off his boots. By the time you made it to the couch, he was half limp in your arms, head flopping against your shoulder with a content sigh.

“Comfy,” he mumbled, burying his nose in your neck.

“You’re not even on the couch yet,” you huffed, struggling to turn him. “Baby, help me out.”

“I am helpin’,” he said, voice muffled.

“No, you’re deadweight. And you smell like moonshine and sweat.”

“Mmm. Manly.”

You laughed despite yourself and finally got him onto the couch. He sprawled out dramatically, arms reaching for you like a child asking to be picked up.

“Come lay with me,” he whined. “S’cold.”

You bit the inside of your muth to keep from smiling too hard. “Fine. But first, water. And Advil. And you need to take that vest off.”

“I like m’vest.”

“I know you do. But you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

You worked off his vest and shirt gently, tossing them over a chair, then grabbed a water bottle and some pills from the kitchen. When you came back, he was lying on his back, shirtless, arm slung over his eyes like the star of a tragic soap opera.

“Hurts,” he groaned.

“You did this to yourself.”

“Rick provoked me.”

“He said Rosita might win.”

“Same thing.”

You helped him sit up enough to sip the water and take the Advil. He sagged into you afterward, cheek against your shoulder, breath warm and slow.

“…You mad at me?” he mumbled.

Your heart softened completely. “No baby, Just worried.”

“Didn’t mean t’drink so much. Jus’… y’know. Everyone was watchin’. Wanted to prove…”

He trailed off, nose scrunching.

“Prove what?” you asked, brushing sweaty hair off his forehead.

“That I ain’t weak.”

“Oh, Daryl,” you whispered, cupping his jaw. “No one thinks you’re weak. Not even close. You could’ve had one sip and I still would’ve dragged your ass home. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

“…What about you?”

“I already love you,” you said, smiling softly. “Even when you’re a drunk man-baby who smells like a barn.”

He groaned and buried his face in your neck. “Ugh. ‘M embarrassin’.”

“You’re adorable.”

“Gross.”

You laughed and kissed the side of his head. “Lay down, baby. Let me take care of you.”

He let you guide him back down, head in your lap, one arm slung across your waist. You carded your fingers through his hair while he slowly melted into the cushions, murmuring sleepy nonsense every few seconds.

“…You always this pretty?”

“Only when you’re this drunk.”

He grinned.

“I knew it,” you teased. “You do like being babied.”

“Shut up.”

You kept stroking his hair, running your hand down his chest every so often, soothing the tight muscles. He was warm and soft and quiet now, breath evening out against your thigh.

“I love you,” he mumbled again, voice fading.

“I love you too, Daryl.”

“…Even if I lost to Rosita?”

You kissed his forehead. “Especially then.”

⸻

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon smut #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #norman reedus

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lostintransist · 20 days ago

Note

Would love a continuation to your gym antics with maybe possibly Simon meeting Reader and seeing her deliver 23 psychic damage to every creep in the gym.

Then MAYBE they all realize that they’ve all been interested in (respectfully obsessed with) the same person (reader). They witness The Ultimate Douchebag Takedown and watch her do reps with said douchebag’s max weight with so much spark in her eyes. Then they see her be super sweet with a younger beginner or the gym’s dog that roams the shop or some shit

So sometimes stories get away from me and I couldn't figure out why they would all be at a public gym at the same time. My brain kept going, but if they are all together why wouldn't they be on base?? Anyway, my incessant need to answer the unspoken why has led us here. Enjoy! ☺️

If the damn desk jockeys would get off their asses and finish dealing with the fucking problem they would be able to go home. Two weeks in this hotel because the paper pushers wouldn’t approve something more than an economy room in a relatively cheap option. The core of Task Force 141, Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap were nearing blows.

Two queen beds made it hard for any of them to get enough space to stretch out. Everyone took turns rotating who shared with Soap. The man rolled. He didn’t just roll, he would cuddle and then end up sideways in the bed over whoever happened to be sharing with him. Made sleeping rough.

The piss-poor gym/pool set up on the first floor became an outlet for every man. They went in shifts. It wasn’t discussed so much as whoever was the closest to sending a brother through the wall between the bedrooms and the bathroom would nip out to run down their anger on the treadmill or splash laps in the pool.

Now due to the lack of overlapping none of the men knew they had their eye on the same bird. It wouldn’t have helped if they had known.

Price and Ghost ran into you more than once in the hot tub. They would slip into the chilly water and push until their muscles burned and then join you who read or watched something on your phone. Gaz and Soap found you on the treadmill singing quietly as you walked at a speedy clip. Every time the door opened to the gym you stopped singing.

Gaz spoke to you first.

“You can keep singing, don’t mind me. Feel free to turn up the volume on the music too.”

Instead of complying you laugh. Kyle stands near the door, arms folded as he squinted at all the equipment.

“Na, I get a bit shy. Thanks, though.” You offer a smile that is reflected in your eyes. “You here long?”

Gaz laughed through his nose, “Who knows? Trying to get home but the paperwork people at the job are apparently not in the same kind of rush.”

“You too? Damn. What is with them? Do they think I like sleeping on the cardboard they call a mattress?” The animation in your face pulls Gaz in. Bright expressions that show not an iota of mistrust or hiding something.

“They must not travel much for work or they would get us home faster huh?” He crosses the room and points to the treadmill next to you, “Mind if I join you?”

“Go right ahead,” you gesture at the machine. “Conversation would be a nice change.”

The two of you laughed through the last twenty or so minutes of your workout.

Price met you next.

He was one more stupid pun away from unloading his service weapon into his men. He had slammed into the muggy air of the pool room. Without even a glance around he stripped down to his speedo and stomped down the steps into the water. Fucking hotel pools were never deep enough for diving. Five laps and his shoulders burned enough to slow down. Pushing back against gravity he stood. Running a hand over his hair, face, and head, to clear some of the water he looked around for the first time.

There you were, eyes carving lines long his muscles from the hot tub.

“Need something, sweetheart?”

The time it takes you to drag your gaze from the water lapping at his stomach to his eyes sends chills down his spine.

“Na, just enjoying the view. Not often I get a strip tease by accident.”

Price couldn’t help but laugh. He had to have several years on you but the way you look at him has him wishing he were here alone.

“Sometimes a man forgets he might not be the only person in the pool.”

Snorting, you step back and sink lower into the bubbling water.

The bubbles dissipate as you become a floating head.

“Shit,” straightening you look to the wall where the timer is.

“If you don’t mind company I can fix that on my way over?” Price offers, lifting a brow and his cheeks in a smile.

“I would love some company, in fact,” you give him a sultry smile.

Since your face firmly tracks his motion up and out of the pool and to the timer by the time he steps into the heated water his cheeks are as red as his speedo. He is pruned when he finally leaves. You left twenty minutes before he could stand straight without the pressure of his speedo cutting the blood supply off to his everything.

Soap is neck deep in a maladaptive daydream about having a wife and three bairns screeching across the heath as the wind plucks at them when you enter the gym. He moved at a light jog. Feet falling lightly on the belt he isn’t breathing hard.

A clang and ringing of metal is enough to pull Soap back to his body. Glancing over he sees you wincing and pressing your massive water bottle to your chest to stop the metal from singing.

“All good over there?” He lifts both brows as his head tilts slightly.

Your tongue makes an appearance under your top lip as you push a lung full of air from your nose.

“Ever just have one of those days where the seconds take too long to pass?” You looked at him so earnestly that Soap reached out and slowed down to a walking pace.

“Too many damn times. Would a chat help reset the clock watching?”

The fight to keep from your face crumpling had Soap pulling out his threadbare handkerchief and passing it over.

“Time does tricky things to me too,” Soap offered softly.

You pressed the fabric to your nose and coughed to clear your throat and eyes.

“Thanks.” Sniffing you take a shaky breath, “Watching anything interesting lately?”

“Can’t sit still long enough for TV but been seeing the wildest one-person skits on my socials. Favorites have to be a girl’s group chat gone wild and an enemies-to-lovers story with family drama and an ex who won’t get out of the way.”

You light up, hand flying away from your face as you lean toward him.

“Oh my god! Do you think she is the other woman and that’s why she didn’t tell anyone what the hell was going on?”

The time is spent passing back and forth thoughts on stories more interesting than what writers’ rooms had put out in decades.

Ghost meets you last. Well. Yes, he was last but he didn’t really meet you so much as wake trying to avoid being smothered to death.

Falling asleep in the hot tub is not recommended. Even if he could keep his nose above water while sitting at the bottom of the small pool, he shouldn’t fall asleep. He had been the one to share a bed with Soap last night. Instead of swaddling the man like a newborn Ghost had given up on sleeping through the night. Haunted him now.

Eyes snapping open he glares up at you. His head is pinned between your hand and the floor. A quick external assessment tells him that his mask is still on, and the bubbles have stopped. He must have passed out hard.

“Hi,” you study both his eyes before blinking and taking in him. “Since you woke and have normal pupil reactions, I am going to assume you don’t need any naloxone?”

“No.”

“Okay.” The odd look you give him is overshadowed by your fingers sliding off his skin. Damn. Why did that feel so good? “Can you move your long ass legs then so I can enjoy some time in the water?”

Snapping into a sitting position Ghost curses the fact his ears are out. He gets pink in the tips of his ears when embarrassed.

“Sorry.” Ghost ran a hand through his short hair, surprised by the wetness there, “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

A jet caught him in the back. With a grunt he shifted. The pressure from the blasting water left his skin itching. The bubbles were nice though. Stretching his arms along the curve of the tiles he notices your eyes follow his wingspan.

“Do they even make beds big enough for you here?” You question as you step in with a hiss and hand clutching the balance bar.

He doesn’t know why he replies. He isn’t normally this chatty. The lack of sleep must be stealing away his senses and filling him up with a bevy of words.

“I’m not that big.”

You sit across from him. He can feel the drift of your legs in the water above his where they stretch along the bottom.

The glance you send him lands somewhere particular, even with the barrier of the moving water. A slow bob of your head and the lift of your brows accompany your disbelieving tone.

“Must have been the water distortion.”

“Lots of things about me are distorted,” Ghost mutters.

The sputtering laugh you let out has you covering it up with a cough.

“That was terrible. Are all of your jokes that bad?”

“Worse.”

“Ooh, honesty. Well then, let’s hear them?”

Ghost narrows his eyes at you as he tells you the tank joke.

“I see your tank joke and raise you one of my own; two soldiers are in a tank; one looks at the other and says blub.” The waggling of your brows is what tipped him over the edge into snorting.

Back and forth it went until you rub your fingertips together and proclaim yourself cooked. With a smile and a nod you disappear. Ghost spends far too long staring at the ceiling thinking about your hands on him.

They run into you day after day after day. Sometimes in the coffee shop within walking distance or a cafe. But they always run into you alone and never mention you to the others. When orders finally arrive that they can return home each man searched the building over twice looking for you. No luck.

Check-out runs smoothly, leaving them loitering with their gunny sacks in a pile by the complimentary couches and chairs in the lobby. Was there an actual purpose for these couches other than decoration? No one ever seemed to use them. This was the discussion happening between the men that seemed to conveniently forget that their asses sat on the decorations.

Ghost’s eyes widening have everyone looking.

There you are. Backpack over on shoulder and a small suitcase wheeling

Not one of them is confident enough to approach you with the others watching. That leaves all of them waiting and hoping you stop and say hello and here is my number before goodbye.

“Thanks! I had a good stay,” your voice carries over your shoulder to them. Each man tightens up like they were about to breach a building.

Turning a saccharine smile settles on your face as your eyes connect to each man in turn. Striding up to the chair placed neatly between the two couches they sat on you settle both hands on the back, the luggage near your leg.

“Gentlemen, thank you for making the say endurable. I will be sending your warmest regards to Colonel König when I get back to base.” Lifting your hand to your forehead you flick them a bastardized salute and stride out the front door.

The only sound following your pronouncement is the ringing of the phone behind the front desk.

“Did we get fucking honey potted?” Gaz looks at Price, aghast.

“It’s only honey potting if you spill state secrets,” Soap chimes in as he pops his neck slowly.

“Says the man who has been honey-potted before,” Ghost snarked, fingers digging into the weave of his jeans.

“It wasn’t Soap,” Price mutters as his fingers begin to work his mustache, “That John wasn’t SAS.”

“Wait,” Soap looks at each of them with a sharp gaze. “She got all of us? How the hell did she manage that?”

“Looks like KorTac has gotten a better hiring manager,” Price slaps his hands to his thighs, standing. “We will not be discussing this again.”

A chorus of ‘agreed’ and they consider the matter closed.

And other than the time they run into you in the field, that is.

Masterlist

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap cod #john price x reader #soap mactavish #price x reader #kyle gaz x reader #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #captian john price #johnny x reader

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leviathanspain · 1 year ago

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Hello!! Would you be able to write a request for finnick? Just like he’s the capitols darling, reader is the capitals hound dog. Known to be fiercely protective and exceptionally violent and brutal. During the third quarter quell, katniss’ group is afraid of reader because they haven’t seen her all match, but they run into her and she defends them brutally against something? Sorry I know it’s specific:) love your writing!

my body is a cage

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: his focus was protecting katniss, but he sleeps with an eye open as long as you’re still out there..

a/n: i made some changes, jus go with it lmao

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“she’s still out there, katniss.” finnick had made this pointedly to katniss, who wanted to go out hunting for the remaining victors with johanna. you were shrouded in mystery, out of all the victors, finnick knew the least about you.

“where would she be?” peeta looked at finnick, who sighed, shrugging, “the arena is different than the arena she won in, i assume somewhere low to the ground-“ finnick sweeped the beach, eye catching on a rustle in the bush, straight across from them, “and close.” he remembered now how you had won your games.

you had tracked all the tributes like prey, manipulating their surroundings to kill them, it had been one of the most invigorating games for the capitol ever. “she’s a bloodhound, probably sniffed us out before we realized.”

johanna watched the area that finnick had saw you, but still offered her commentary, “she’s brutal, katniss.”

katniss looked at them all, surrounded by skilled people yet found herself doubting their abilities, especially her own. none of them were sure they’d win, not against her.

“the careers are the least of our worries with her out there.” peeta noted. finnick looked at him and shrugged, “she might just kill them herself.”

they knew getting back on the island was a bad idea. katniss ducked at the sound of a mysterious voice, feeling as something flew past her head, stabbing cashmere right in the chest.

“get up.” katniss looked up to see you, standing over her. you had an array of weapons on you, and you were reaching for another one. katniss felt the panic in her throat until you launched it at enobaria, who had thrown herself at katniss. “get up!” your voice sounded more frantic and katniss did, struggling from keeping her eyes off of you.

suddenly the island began to spin.

your grip was loosening, and you groaned with slight fear as you felt the cold water thundering against your feet. katniss reached out for you, “grab my hand!” she screamed, but the water trashing drowned her out.

you could see her hand amidst all the water and grabbed it tightly, closing your eyes as the island slowed to a stop.

you sat on the beach, alone as the others argued over you. katniss had defended you, deciding she wanted you as an ally. but finnick and johanna deemed it too risky, “she could kill us all in our sleep, then what?” johanna had made that point as one of your methods, and you inhaled sharply.

finnick glanced at you, noticing the solemn expression on your face. he had known that expression far too many times, and it made him change his mind.

“johanna.” finnick called her name and sighed, “she saved her life. that’s not something we can just ignore, we don’t even know her.”

there was silence between them all, katniss had looked to johanna, watching as she fought internally before giving in. “i’ll go get her, maybe threaten a little.” she stood up, taking her axe with her.

finnick looked to katniss as johanna left, “i’ll keep an eye on her. for you.” he knew that once katniss settled on allies, she settled. her choices weren’t always the best, but somehow it would work itself out.

“why did you save her?” finnick had taken the first watch with you. johanna had convinced him, as just having you as watch would be ‘asking for it’.

you shrugged, “why not.” there hadn’t been much decision making on the island. it was either her or cashmere, and you didn’t see much of a choice.

finnick looked at you, “i don’t believe that.” his eyes slid themselves back to stare at the beach and you scoffed, “and why is that?”

finnick shrugged, “no one would just randomly save someone without an ulterior motive.” he said it like a fact and you smirked, “do you have one?”

“have one what?” he looked confused, obvious by the furrow in his brow.

“do you have an ulterior motive?” you repeated the full length question and watched as finnick practically whipped his head around.

“no.” he stated plainly, and you rolled your eyes, “i saw you saved katniss, similiar to how i did. you and johanna can’t just be doing this,” you glanced back to katniss and peeta sleeping, “for nothing. whatever it is, finnick, is an ulterior motive.” finnick pursed his lips, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

“i’ll let you have yours if you let me have mine.” you finished, catching his gaze. finnick knew there were layers to you. you were different than most victors, your brutality is what made you like the rest of them, the willingness to kill. but you were turning out to be way more than what meets the eye. whatever your motive was, finnick sensed it wasn’t malice.

finnick settled to watch the sun rise upon your face, ending the conversation with a nod.

finnick watched as you sat by the beach. it had been post jabberjays, you, him and katniss had all been trapped with the birds, fluttering and screaming your names. now it seemed, like you had decided to decompress by the beach, just as he was going to.

he piled up next to you, close but far enough to give you a good amount of space.

it was then that finnick realized you had been crying, tears evident on your cheeks. he had heard katniss yell her sister’s name, and he had heard annie. you had just screamed in response, as if you were trying to drown out the birds with your own voice.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized to finnick, wiping your eyes as he settled down. you sniffled, watching as the waves moved.

“don’t apologize, there’s no need.” finnick spoke, “who did you hear?”

there was silence for a moment, until you spoke, “my best friend.” your mind shuddered back the sound of his screams and you laughed, painfully. “he’s been dead for years. i killed him.” you admitted, “he died because of a mistake i had made during the games.”

your mind flashed back to the games, where you had accidentally launched a knife to his chest, thinking it had been another tribute.

“he had spent all of his games searching for me. and once he found me, i had killed him.” it was cruel for him to be your district partner, for only one would survive, but you “never thought it would be me.” you glanced at finnick, who had been listening.

“it was supposed to be him.” you cried, “i killed everyone else to get to him, and when it was down to four, was when he came to get me.” you shook your head, “there is nothing in this world that i loved more than him, finnick. now that he’s gone, there’s nothing left for me.”

finnick shook his head, “stop. you know that’s not true.” he tried to comfort you, your words mirroring his own thoughts.

“that’s my motive, finnick.” you revealed, “my body is a cage, and i can’t stand to live in it much longer.”

johanna had woken up abruptly. she clutched onto her weapon, eyes glancing around before she settled on the two figures on the beach. she squinted and made out finnick’s hair, and you. the only two missing from the group. you had your head leaned on finnick’s shoulder, as the two of you watched the rising sun.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick odair smut #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x female!reader #thg #thg fanfiction #thg imagines #thg finnick odair #finnick odair oneshots #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick imagine #hunger games finnick #finnick odair

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