#I wanna ideate about fucking him

[daincrediblegg]

He’s a bitchy little man child he’s a babygirl he’s a gnc king he’s a terrible mob boss he’s the worst sugar daddy you’ll ever meet I want to call his dick tiny (it’s not he’s average at best for sure but he loves to be humiliated) and slap his face and then get my world rocked publicly at his silly little bitch boy nightclub

#sorry I’ve been thinking about this fucking idiot half the night he’s just so fucking funny as a character #a real cinematic highlight and my god does ewan know how to play a high and a low when he needs to #this man is not a daddy but he wants to be #like this fucking idiot man child switches so much and so fast he doesn’t know what he is ever and neither will you #sorry I’m high on valerian root but this is just the vibe I feel re-watching this knowing full well I’m in a ‘played by’ rabbit hole and ofc #I wanna ideate about fucking him #roman sionis #birds of prey #his theme song is a mariana and the diamonds medly

[pizzapizzadickz]

...

#diary #personal #i dont rly know how to trigger warn this or if it necessary so youve been warned. #its really hard sometimes when you really want to be friends with someone and they just dont with you. #like. my dreams just keep on reminding so i never really forget. and it sucks. #because. i really did to be close with him. desprately. and it sucks. bc. in the end its not like i was someone he cared about... #haaah. yknow. i want to just. impulsivly completely change my a social media of mine i used with friends n make it worrisome. #...maybe then i could talk to them again. haha. ha. #it was one community i rly didnt wanna let go of. tbh. i was in my own way trying my best. #even tho i was falling apart. even tho i still am really. #haah. even now i can tell i was never the priority. and honestly i dont think i ever am. #haha. i wanna go on a depressive spiral and self destruct. #im. really sick of this so fucking much. haaah. i still might change that one social of mine. im not good at controlling impulses #idk man. i was trying to sleep a bit more. but everything is out of wack now and i hate everything n wanna die. #suicidal ideation #honestly. he just keeps appearing in my dreams and it sucks bc im usually fine without it but sometimes im just so lonely. #sometimes i just think i want someone to fall down with me. to take them with me. idk. i really dont #im so tired. i was having a really good day yesterday and now im not and i feel like im falling apart. #im really not a good person. and i think maybe im just writting this all to show that. #idk if ill post this or delete it or what. im so so so tired. bc i keep thinking. but what if somehow he sees this and contacts me. #he wont. idk if he even cares. he blocked everyone afterall. at most im a memory he sometimes thinks of b4 dismissing. #im tired. really tired. haah. i wish my friendship would just sometimes go the way i want. im always left behind. #why do i care the most about people who hardly care about me. i wish i could read social cues more easily. i wish i hadnt done that. #sometimes i really wish i wasnt me. just anyone but. then i wouldnt be an asshole. then ppl will stay. #maybe then i could just understand everything better as to why. but i dont. so ppl just leave #and im left here wondering why. its really lonely sometimes. and its not like i hate my current friend or dont care or something #its just. its not the same. heck ive even missed my abusive/toxic relationships before. i just wish things could remain the same. #im sorry...... #i think ill get up now. its 5:30 but idk if i can sleep. idk what to do really. im tired #and im trying not to fall into my self destructive tendencies. nonetheless it was a nice peaceful dream. just. i miss them all. i miss then

[needle-noggins]

(CW for SA, suicidal ideation) Here we go. My favorite and simultaneously least favorite panel of Vash and Knives.

I've seen a few interpretations of this scene and before we dive into the one that really struck me, let's start with the more... chill one. We're finally introduced to the third gun of Trigun, Vash's angel arm. And the way we're introduced to it involves Knives forcing him to pull the trigger. Of course, since no one knows anything about Knives, the people of Noman's Land blame Vash for Fifth Moon, and Vash likewise blames himself (this is kinda a spoiler but if you've been paying attention, it's just par for the course). However, he's not the one who pulled the trigger, Knives is. It brings up an interesting moral question of blame - do we blame the gun (and Vash, who is being used/objectified as a weapon here), or the person who wanted it to happen? Guns don't kill people, genocidal twins do!

Now for the awful interpretation, the one that makes me cry and wish Vash was real so I could hug him and pay for his therapy. And really highlights how awful Knives is and how far he'd go for his brother in his own, fucked-up way. I touched on this in a previous post about Legato and the Murder Cafe, and the whole time I was thinking about Fifth Moon but didn't want to say anything for the sake of spoilers.

So. Pay attention to the way Vash and Knives are standing. Knives, when he first grabbed Vash's head, was standing in front of him. He moves behind him to better control him and yeah, he's still controlling him via hand on head, and now he's got his other hand gripping Vash's chest, where feathers/wings are manifesting. Knives is assaulting him. If you wanna get crazy with it and say that the angel arm is kinda phallic, you could say... yeah. This is rape. I heard that specific interpretation once and while I accepted it I also don't know if that would be generally accepted or if I'd be called out for it, so I'm trying to tread lightly here.

It also doesn't escape me that of course the angel arm has feminine features like the plants - the plants that, again, humans are exploiting for their ability to create. There's a lot of feminist commentary to be made here but many people have said it better than me. Specifically I'm thinking of this one post I saw about gender fuckery and Tristamp Vash. Anyway.

Also, the atomic bomb/black hole/sun/whatever that is in the middle... It's just so powerful. It's terrifying. The eldritch body horror here is a punch to the gut. What the fuck, Trigun? I thought this was a funky space western!!!

Oh, and here's more commentary on the following few panels:

Vashussy shot, Knives is still right behind him. Yeah, I wasn't kidding about how bad this pose is for them. Knives, you sick fuck.

Vash shoots himself in the leg (a key difference from '98 trigun, lol), because of course he does, but it doesn't free him from the arm.

The arm's getting darker/the light inside is getting lighter! Stampede did an awesome job with their interpretation of the angel arm and I don't think I would have understood it without that. Also, on my first read I didn't notice that Vash is literally levitating, which is cool, but also terrifying because ?? he's not in control of that either??

Finally. A super painful, minimalist, double-page spread. Nightow loves 'em. Vash thinks he's dying (maybe?) and he wishes he had never existed. It's not suicidal ideation per se, but he wishes he didn't exist at all because he's already caused enough suffering. This is a low for him, because he believes so strongly in the concept of the Blank Ticket. (Come on, soupy brain bitch boy, get it together!) He's a monster, it's just how he was born, and he's not in control. Very specifically too, he says "we", and then changes it to "I"... he doesn't blame Knives at all, and that's very him. I want to shake him! Stop playing the martyr, Vash!

#trimax #trigunbookclub #cw assault #cw sa #ive never tagged content warnings before please help if i didnt do it well enough #cw sui ideation #vash the stampede #millions knives #also if you say ONE WORD about plancest i will kill you with my mind because you have sorely misunderstood the point here #posting this makes me so nervous ngl #dont hate me

[neurologicalanguish]

pathetic and sad and depressed leon thoughts cause he’s a dumb fuckin loser who should die (i would do anything he told me) erm… this is also my first post so… bare with me

cw/tw: olderbf!leon(age gap not specified), erectile dysfunction(i know, not my fault he’s a pathetic traumatised mf…), suicidal ideation, nsfw after read more, slight misogyny, porn addiction, choking kink, reader has afab anatomy, nonchalant leon…

would definitely thrash and cry in his sleep sometimes, the amount of horror and gore he’s experienced first hand wouldn’t be taken away just cause he has a pretty thing like you to love.

i feel like he’s always so detached and constantly disassociating that whenever you try to initiate something, anything at all, he just sort of does it out of inertia, just so you can get the relief you want.

he’d be rubbing lazy circles on your clit as you cling and squirm against him, as he has you all nuzzled into his chest with his arm under your head.

but that fucker is probably thinking about something else entirely, he’s just glad you haven’t gotten sick of him yet. how you still so desperately seek his love and validation.

sex doesn’t excite him anymore, sure, he needs to stick his cock in something warm and wet from time to time, but he’s fucked so much in his youth that he doesn’t even see the appeal of it anymore. not to mention the porn addiction he had…

hours on end, just spent in front of magazines, or shitty cassette tapes, that were so old and fucking beat that he’d have to fix them himself in order to not have the whore’s moans sound like they’re from within the depths of hell because the cassette would play in slow motion.

how he’d gotten so desensitised to anything that had to do with sex, that at one point he needed to start reading erotica, just to get his dick hard. he’d just sit on the shitty mattress of the floor of the apartment he was supposed to call “home” , while watching the TV playing porn, like it was some fuckin’ game show.

so it doesn’t come as a surprise, at least to him, that with the years, he doesn’t find pleasure in sex, or anything at all really.

but when he sees such a pretty thing like you, so pathetic and constantly begging him to be pounded, guilt would just wash over him, saying to himself that “it’s the least i could do for the fuckin’ world, right?”

so again, he’d have you under him, peppering wet kisses on your neck, or choking you sometimes. how he’d wish to actually snap your fragile neck at times, it didn’t help when your skin would turn slightly pale, it was almost like it was doing something for him, but he decided to ignore it.

his aging, and the shitty way he had lived up until the time you met him, and even as he’s with you, doesn’t attenuate the fact that his “stupid fuckin’ useless cock” doesn’t even wanna work anymore. he feels so pathetic and helpless. he’d rather jump off a bridge, the sound of his body weight reverberating on cold harsh concrete, as his corpse splays out in a million fuckin’ particles as it hits the ground, leaving behind just a burgundy mess of what was once your “handsome old man” , than have to explain to you that he doesn’t wanna fuck, his dick doesn’t work.

he just tries to be grateful for what he has, at least you cook good food. he’ll keep attending to your needs, eating you out, buying you toys, fiddling with your clit, he’ll keep pretending for his “pretty girl”.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil 4

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (12) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

masterlist

7.9k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, extreme mental health issues, suicidal ideations, gore/violence/death, self-hate, allusions to trafficking, use of explicit language, more angst, mentions of vomiting, dissociation, terms of endearment, unedited, no use of y/n, a codependent couple with a shared savior complex, paranoia

When you'd realized the monkey mutts had stopped where the beach began you wanted to collapse into the sand in relief. All you could do was stare on as Peeta tried to comfort the Morphling woman who'd sacrificed herself for him before her body was raised from the waters. Even if Plutarch was supposedly in on the plan, it seemed like the arena couldn't wait to kill you all off as soon as possible. The conversation switched to finding food, another thing your brain couldn't care less about. You supposed you should be from all the running, fighting, and sweating, but you just had a huge pit in your stomach as you thought about how Finnick could have died not long ago.

It had always been a possibility that you were very consciously aware of, but the imminent threat wasn't really present. You had no qualms that he would be able to protect himself, yet he hadn't been able to when the fog came rolling in. Well, he would have been able too if hadn't come to Peeta's rescue, but to get out, that was a requirement. Adrenaline has kept you going after that, when the monkeys attacked, but the dread filling you now was like lead.

“Hey," One of Finnick's warm, calloused hands cupped your face, “What's going on, sweet girl?" His face had that endearing always somewhat cocky smirk on it that was a permanent source of comfort in your life. But you just stared at him, at those ocean eyes you would drown in if given the chance. The look in his eyes shifted to one of higher concern, “Are you hurt?" He looked up and down your figure, looking for sounds, tilting your head to see the back, looking for signs of infection and grew more concerned when he found nothing to send off alarms. “Angel, you gotta tell me what's wrong." He urged.

You tried to blink yourself out of your stupor, "Nothing just wanna be with you.”

"You are with me.”

"Yeah I know.” He looked at you suspiciously, but knew better than to push. You grabbed this hand and he squeezed it, pulling you along as he went on his search for oysters. When he was sure he found a spot and began his digging you sat down in the water. Letting the soft waves ripple across your legs, if you closed your eyes you could pretend to be home again, this was so similar.

“I'd never leave you alone, you know?" Finnick's voice brought you back from the fantasy and you looked at him quizzically. He was still digging through different areas, of course the oysters were in such unnatural places, that was a reminder of how fake the fantasy was. "I'd always come back to you. You don't have to worry about me leaving you behind, or making you feel abandoned.” You looked away, staring at the glistening waters once again. There was no words you could think of to say, you wondered if you were still in shock, it felt nothing like how it had been described, but maybe this was all some weird, fucked up trauma response the universe had left you with as further punishment. Your mind was blank of anything other than how he, your amazing, smug, caring, generous, loving Finnick could actually be taken from this world and it would keep on spinning without him. Then his hand grabbed yours once again and he effortlessly pulled you from the water to walk with him back to Katniss and Peeta.

You laid your head on Finnick's shoulder as everyone began to eat. He opened one of the oysters up and offered it to you, but you just shook your head. There was no room for hunger, no room for anything except trepidation.

He shook his head back at you, “You need to eat." Finnick offered it back to you, he was so bossy and it made you love him even more.

“I'm not hungry, Finn." You knew you were exposing yourself with the nickname, which you only used when you felt most vulnerable, but it slid off your tongue so easily in the moment.

“You're gonna talk to me now?" He asked playfully, trying to lighten the load. You scowled at him, lightheartedly elbowing him in his side and he laughed.

“You're so mean to me." You burrowed your head back into his shoulder.

He scoffed, “I just put all my effort into a monologue of my devotion to you and then you decided staring at the waters which are in front of us all the time was more interesting.”

He was right of course even if it was all in jest, but you weren't going to let him win regardless of that fact. “It was hardly a monologue-" He turned to you abruptly, you frowned when your head lost contact with your shoulder but he grabbed your hands in his.

“I don't understand why you have cared about and loved me so deeply, except in the way that I know that's how I feel about you. You being here is the bane of my existence because I know that there isn't a day I could live without seeing your smile or sweet domesticity. You don't understand why I want to protect you so badly, but it's the same way you want to protect me. There isn't a universe where I could leave you when I know you need me, I married you as a promise that I would always return to you, protect you even if you're stubborn and here anyways. Death couldn't part me from a world that you were still in.” His sea green eyes were so serious and it did reverberate within your heart, but you still let yourself laugh.

"You are such a sweet-talker.” You announced with an eye roll, knowing he was right about how you felt. Except maybe selfishly if death parted the two of you, the only assumption you had made was he'd find someone else, some other smarter, braver, prettier partner who only couldn't compare to you in their adoration of him, but maybe that was a stretch as well.

“And you are impossible to please." He quickly packed your lips which left your yearning for his honey-dripping lips for seconds longer, if you suffocated with them on your own it would be the happiest you'd ever be. “Now eat, my love." You could melt into the sand thinking about how this man would pour out a heartfelt monologue just for you to leave your head long enough to eat, he was perfect, there would never be anyone else like him, and there never had been. He was it for you.

Screams interrupted your thoughts and you instantly stood up, “That's new." Peeta said as he rose as well, you all stood, staring across the beach where water seemed to be overflowing a portion of the jungle. Flooding that rushed from the trees and was so tall it was as high as the Cornucopia that bounced against, leaving large waves to rush up your feet. A drone came to pick up a body and it solidified in your brain that regardless of what Plutarch had planned these were never meant to be long Games, nor particularly violent with all the events occuring.

“Someone's here." Katniss said sharply, quickly pulling out an arrow, ready to shoot. You looked at the figures approaching from the jungle, not too far away. The aggressive motions of one of the figures nearly instantly told you who it was.

“Johanna." You whispered out and then Finnick was running forward.

“Johanna!" He shouted, catching her attention. You followed after him as she yelled back at him. Beetee and Wiress instantly run into the water when you realize Johanna’s figure was so obscured because she was covered head to toe in blood.

“Oh my god, what got you?" You asked, there was no way that much was hers or even someone else's. It was clotted in her hair, her skin, each piece of fabric.

“We were all the way, deep into the jungle where I thought it was going to be safe. That's when the rain started, I thought it was water, it turns out to be blood. Hot, thick blood, coming down. It was choking us! We were stumbling around, gagging on it blind.” Johanna signs through her explanation, ignoring Wiress’ mutters of tick, tock, tick, tock. Which you push away as well as just Wiress being Wiress. “That's when Blight hit the forcefield, he wasn't much, but he was from home.”

"What's wrong with her?” Katniss asks about Wiress, still muttering.

“She's in shock." Beetee is washing the blood of his glasses in the sea water. “Dehydration isn't helping, do you have fresh water?"

“We can get some."

Wiress is clinging to Johanna, desperately repeating her mantra. Who's trying to shove the older woman off, for most of you this is just the dynamic that's been accepted. You've each accepted a role to maintain relationships with one another, Wiress the crazy one, and Johanna the aggressive one. Katniss is put off and runs to Johanna, ready to fight.

“Hey what're you doing?" Johanna yells, Finnick trying to pull her away as you try to get between her and Katniss. “I got them out for you!” They're finally ripped apart when Peeta has his arms around a visibly confused Katniss. "Let go of me, Finnick!”

"Let's just go get you cleaned off.” You tilt your head walking with her and Finnick into the water. "I'm sorry about Blight.”

"Yeah.” She says gruffly as she dunked her head into the water, blood instantly beginning to spread into the once clear waters.

"And I didn't really get to thank you for saving me earlier, so thank you, Johanna.”

"Well I'm sure he would've killed me himself if I hadn't.” She nodded her head at Finnick. “Better go make a better impression with the Girl on Fire over there." She rolled her eyes, stalking over in that direction.

“Deep down she appreciates a thank you." Finnick's wrapped his arms around you from behind and you sway in the water. You hummed in agreement, just enjoying the feeling of his arms around you. What you would give for this to be the two of you in your kitchen back home is immeasurable as well as the things you would do to get that back.

“Were you serious though?" You blurt out, forcing yourself to acknowledge your feelings with him. There's a beat which you figure must be confusion as he tries to figure out what you're referring too. Before you have a chance to add on, he'd seemingly figured it out though.

“Of course I was serious. You don't have to worry because you're not gonna get rid of me that easily, angel." He chuckles, his lips pressed to the side of your head. You nod slowly,

“Thank you." You mumbled out, embarrassed that you'd even let the anxiety take over, but also not completely convinced. It felt shameful that no amount of words or actions was seemingly able to convince the deepest parts of your soul of anything but the worst.

“It's a clock!" Katniss yelled out catching everyone's attention, she helped Wiress out of the water where they've been sitting and began walking towards the Cornucopia . “This entire arena seems to be laid out like a clock, with a new threat every hour, but they stay only within their wedge.” Katniss explains and you all follow her, "It all starts with the lightning, then the blood rain, fog, monkeys, that's the first four hours. At 10 that big wave points from over there.” She points forward, Wiress stops walking. As if she's cautious of something.

“Wiress, you're a genius." Finnick smiles as you all keep trekking forward.

“The tail points at 12." Peeta observes when you reach the shining Cornucopia.

“That's where the lighting strikes at noon and midnight.” Katniss further explains.

“Strikes where?" Beetee asks, holding his coil of wire close.

“That big tree." She points once more and Beetee seems pleased, Wiress sits down on the edge of the rocks murmuring a nursery rhyme to herself.

"Great job, Wiress. We'll try and listen more next time.” You patted her shoulder before following the rest of the group to where a circle is being drawn out in the sand. Dividing it up in the clock like sectors of the arena. Trying to find out what comes next in each portion of the arena.

“It doesn't matter as long as we steer clear of whichever sect is active, we'll be safe, yeah?”

" Relatively speaking.” Finnick nods along and then Wiress' ambience of nursery rhymes is quiet and she gasps. Your head shoots towards where she would be and there's Gloss, knife in Wiress' chest. Before you'd even had a chance to react Katniss’ arrow had pierced through his chest, you'd no clue where she'd come from, but you could hear a sound of outrage from Cashmere. You followed the sound and saw her lunging forward, blindly trying to avenge her brother. Without a second thought you'd shoved Katniss out of the way and a knife was flying out of your hand into Cashmere's heart. Her head hit the ground and that dreadful buildup of guilt was returning. She'd always been kind to you, there were amicable jokes and small complaints to one another at parties. An understanding that you'd struggled through the same, ever present issues and now you were once again the person cutting that life short after allowing a bond to be created. But you had to keep Katniss safe, to get her out of the arena, regardless of the consequences.

The Career pack had seemingly crept up on all of you, Finnick and Peeta were fighting off the attacks of Brutus and Enobaria. Your next knife barely missed Enobaria as she fled to the other side of the Cornucopia, Katniss’ arrow doing similarly with Brutus. Peeta tried to run after them, even if people talked about him like he was the weaker one, you'd seen from the way he trained with Brutus that it was anything, but true. Finnick knew that regardless of Peeta's strength he needed to be protected, kept alive, so he blocked him from the chase. Katniss; however, did try to follow after them, make sure the two were gone, Johanna followed behind. Under no circumstances could you let the Mockingjay get hurt, Peeta was because of that, but she was the one you'd been instructed to get out.

You looked over at Finnick, trying to communicate with him that you'd be following and he gave a curt nod. Only a few steps in though you were completely thrown off your balance, your brain started buzzing. You weren't sure what was going on except that your hands were desperately searching for crevices in the rocks to hold onto. The force of the wind whipped at your skin so hard it genuinely hurt and your fingers tried not to slip on the wet rocks. It was spinning, the Cornucopia was spinning around at full force, trying to throw you off, you tried to calm down. Focus on seeing if you could spot Finnick through the water sprays and the way it hit your face in harsh droplets. It wasn't that different from being on a boat, crabbing when the weather got difficult, being tossed around. Maybe if you shut your eyes that's what you could imagine this was, but then your hands were slipping and you were trying to force your body to stay still. Fingers blindly searching for another crevice, rocks scratching at them as you tried to dig your fingers into the rock. Body sliding down, it didn't matter that you could swim, if the impact was too harsh you could go unconscious on impact and no amount of experience in the water could save you from that.

Finnick would be okay though, if anyone was fine it would surely be him. He'd know exactly where to place his grip, he'd be strong enough to hold on, he could probably hold onto someone else too. Those thoughts are quickly cut short when you hear yourself screaming as something, something sharp, has lodged itself into your back. Breathe, you tell yourself digging your fingers into the rock deeper. Something is tearing into your back, the pressure of the wind definitely isn't helping, and you're barely able to focus on keeping hold of the slick rocks. Through the wind you can hear more screams, shouts, too obscure to make out who the belong to, but it reminds you that you need to survive long enough to rescue Katniss, you need to keep holding on.

Finally, the movement is slowing down, at least you think it is, maybe your perception of speed has just changed. By the time the Cornucopia comes to a stop you still feel dizzy, like a phantom of the spinning. When your brain stops buzzing the pain in your back is worse than you expected. It's torturous to try and stand, but you bite your lip, trying not to groan as you stand. Your legs are wobbly at first and then you hear Finnick call your name.

“Finnick there's something in my back." He's running towards you, eyes full of concern. Your taking deep breaths to try and move through the pain, “I need you to take it out."

Soon he's behind you and before you can say anything more his hand grabs yours from behind, "This is gonna hurt a lot-”

"Don't tell me, just rip it out, like a bandaid.”

"Angel, I can't do that. I'll do it as fast as I can, but I can't just tear it out without causing more damage." His fingers are rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

You're crying a little and even though it causes more pain you laugh a little, “It's one of those stupid scalpel chains isn't it?"

“Yeah, sweet girl, squeeze my hand as hard as you need too." You're nodding, putting the free arm to your mouth to try and muffle yourself if you scream at all. Trying not to bite when you realize this is just as excruciating as the fog had been, fingernails digging into Finnick's hand as he pulls out each piece of the chain. “I've got you, angel, it's okay." By the time all the pressure from the chain has left your back you feel faint. “There we go, all done, you did such a good job." There's no chance to acknowledge him when you're letting yourself run to the edge so you can hurl into the water.

You force yourself to keep standing, “How bad is it?"

“Just deep enough to stick, but you're gonna be okay.” Finnick helps you steady yourself, avoiding the tender wounds on your back.

"Let's just get what we need and get off this bloody island." Johanna says and everyone complies.

“I can carry you, if you want." Finnick offers, already helping you across the rocks.

“I can walk, Finnick, I'm sure soon enough we'll be hit with something else that gives me enough adrenaline that I won't even feel it." You shrug, trying to force yourself to have good spirits. “And I still think hypothermia was worse so-"

He lets himself laugh, shaking his head, “You say that about everything."

“Because it's true! I was so cold that I felt like I was on fire and I was seeing things, I'm sure my back can take a few hits."

"Okay, angel, whatever you say.”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You don't know how long had passed since they stripped you of your wet, muddied, bloodied clothes, or since they injected you with something that made you pass out until you woke with seemingly no injuries to remind you of the past except the stitches in your side. You do know that now they've allowed you rest, before you're thrust back into the Capitol to be seen, to be crowned. The blankets felt like the softest thing to ever grace your skin and the mattress itself is a blessing, but you can't appreciate it when your eyes bore into the wall, guilt infesting your bloodstream.

Light floods into the room and you fear that you've been lost in your head for so long it's already time for them to play dress up with your lifeless body. But his scent is something you've always known instantly, saltwater, sand, the smell of home. You don't even look at him, there's no point, you need the darkness to engulf you and let you have a redo.

“I wish you let me die in that arena." You don't recognize your own voice, so hoarse, so numb.

He took a cautious step into the room, “I know." Finnick sounds like he's already resigned himself to this, to whatever this is. You finally tear your eyes from the walls, briefly having let them pass over his figure, but doing nothing more than scooting over. You hope he got the message you silently urged for and of course he does, he gets you so well. When his body heat is by yours once again, you resent that you're able to have it, that you fought to have it.

‘You don't deserve to cry,’ is what you had begun to tell yourself the moment they grabbed you from that arena. The tears of a murderer do little to those whose blood they've shed. Yet when his hand is cupping your cheek, you feel the tears returning. The longer the silence persists, the better you'll be able to hold back from crying, but eventually you succumb to the uprising of tears and you've probably stained whatever Finnick is wearing.

“He's my best friend Finnick." Was. He was your best friend. Before you dug your talons in, chewed up the parts you needed, and kept the blood on your hands. That bright, beautiful boy that by all means you were supposed to end up with. You'd resisted that ending so much the universe had seemingly decided to make it a tragedy instead. “My best friend." His home was yours, his family was one with you, but you had to be selfish and greedy, so karma took its place.

Finnick's hands cradled your head, and you let yourself push away just to melt right back into them. “And he tried to kill you."

It made you seethe, how dare he be right, "Because I used him, I did that to him. He should have killed me, I'm not meant for this, Finnick.”

"Angel, the Capitol is eating out of your hand, you go out there, you smile and laugh, they love it. And then you walk straight off that stage to me.” You've sat up, trying to stop the hyperventilation that's taken control of your body. You can feel his hands on yours, trying to guide your breathing, but your brain felt too loud to even attempt to follow.

“Why'd you let me do it? You should've told me it was stupid, you should've let him win. He has a family who cares about him, oh my god his family!" Maybe it's not fair to blame Finnick, it had been your idea after all, but it helps because you felt like the insurmountable grief would eat you alive.

He pressed his forehead to yours, “I know, I know, angel, I'm sorry." Later you'll feel more remorse for what you said, but now you could barely breathe.

"You'd said you wanted to keep me safe and now I've screwed it all up because the world is punishing me."

Finnick had gone back to trying to steady your face, for his hands to calm you, which only works to remind you every one in a while to breathe. “Nothing is punishing you, this isn't your fault."

“No, it is, it's all my fault, Finnick! I couldn't just be satisfied with how my life was supposed to be. I wanted you so bad and pushed away my fate and so now the universe has to punish me"

“Stop it." His voice is grounded, caring but stern like the way he's been holding your face. “Don't do that, sweet girl, no one is getting retribution against you for anything.”

"What are the odds? Who does that happen to, Finnick? I just happened to get pulled in the same year as my best friend who everyone knows I'm supposed to end up with and then suddenly you want me again?”

"The odds are never in anyone's favor. And I wanted you anyways.”

You've begun scratching at your chest, which you've never done before, but the newfound anxieties seem to have taken over. But Finnick instantly is pulling your hands away. "I'm not meant for this, I'm just supposed to be the person who gets married and lives in some small house on the beach, who goes to the markets, not this.”

“And you put on a show for them, angel, and then we get to go back home and live that life as much as possible. You only have to keep the act up for them." You didn't have it in you to keep explaining otherwise, you were exhausted, although part of you told yourself you'd be better off without sleep, that you didn't deserve rest. Finnick could of course sense it all and pulled you into his chest. The warmth you'd so missed finally fully surrounding you, protecting you from everything, even your own thoughts for a little while. It was a heat you so desperately craved and the idea you'd never feel it again had haunted you when you'd almost died in the cold. So you nuzzled yourself deeper into his chest, "Get some rest, sweet girl.” His lips pressed to the top of your head.

Your brain refused to rest peacefully, but if you so much as mumbled in your sleep Finnick was there to soothe you until it passed and eventually he was waking you. For a moment, when your eyes had just fluttered open, it was easy to imagine that it was just you and Finnick back home, that none of that had occurred had ever happened. Maybe if you convince yourself of that delusion for long enough it would be an easy enough fantasy to slip into whenever you needed to give the Capitol a facade of joy. You were a victor after all.

“They're just going to do the same process that happened before the parade before your stylist gets whatever she had planned ready. I'll be there when you're done."

"Finnick, I'm sorry.”

"You don't have to apologize to me.” He understood what you'd gone through, he'd been there too and even though you knew that it still felt cruel to have blamed him for anything related to your actions.

"I-” He interrupted you with a kiss, you'd almost forgot what his mouth was like, the taste of honey on his lips.

"I’ll meet you after, angel.” He parted ways with you at the sleek, silver door to a scarily, clinical room. Soon enough you were being surrounded by a flock of your designing team to get your primped to the nines.

“You literally had me on the edge of my seat, it was divine." One of them squawked, making sure your body was completely devoid of any hair they hadn't specially planned to be there. You simply smiled as gratefully as you could, nodding along with each remark they made.

“We need more games like you, I mean they're all interesting, but you brought such a kick to it. One of the most entertaining by far!" One squealed, trimming your nails. Making a small look of disgust when he pulled out the dried mud and blood lodged underneath your fingernails.

“Oh, you'll be a must have at my big birthday gala next month. You will come won't you?” The woman with bright green hair who was powdering something onto your face asked eagerly.

“Of course, you've all done so much for me!" Your face hurt from the forced smiles as you gushed, and they oohh’d and aahh’d at your performance.

“You are the sweetest little thing, I could just burst!" The green haired woman waved her hands around expressively, the others nodding along with her.

“Anyone who doesn't already love you, will have to now!" The man announced, putting down your hand.

“Well we've done the makeup Cambrie requested, so we’ll let her know you're ready for the dress. It's simply divine. You'll wait right in there." You were ushered into a much more comfortable looking room and the smell of food instantly made you salivate. You'd forgotten how long it had been since you'd last eaten, especially something more than small fish, rabbits, berries, and nuts. Instantly you dove into each dish you could, eager to finally fill your stomach that has longed for food for over a week now.

You'd nearly eaten your fill when Cambrie’s bright voice filled the room. “I knew it would be you, I told everyone I could how much of a sweetheart you were! And now everyone wants one of my looks. You are such a blessing!” She kissed both of your cheeks,"You know what they're calling you?” You shook your head, not sure if you really wanted to know. "A Princess!” She squealed, obviously filled with glee."That's amazing to work with."

You smiled as big as you could to match hers, “Oh I'm flattered, but why that?"

“I mean look at you, the sweet, little girl from District 4 with two men pining to have her. Not a slob like some of the victors from past years, perfectly kind and refined." If it was considered kind and refined to manipulate and kill other children, then you guessed you would fit the bill. “So your dress reflects that, the princess style as one would say. I would've loved to incorporate a tiara, but since you'll be crowned at the end of the night we had to forego that."

The dress shimmered like the ocean in sunlight,"It's beautiful.” You said starting at the gown, it felt wrong to dressed in the Capitol's finest as Conway was being shipped in a wooden coffin back home.

“Just like you!" Cambrie clapped her hands together before leading you out of the room to where you'd wait to be presented back in front of Panem. Finnick immediately caught your eye and you resisted running straight to him.

“You look beautiful." He had a twinkle in his eye, that made you want to slip back into the fantasy that all of this wasn't because you'd won the Hunger Games, that it was just a regular day.

“You're not too bad yourself.” You shrugged with a playful smile. Then faster than anticipated it was time to go, Finnick squeezed your hand encouragingly. You let your smile fall for a fraction of a second to take a deep breath before plastering it back on.

“You've got this.” He whispered, kissing your hand before releasing it as you walked towards the steps of the stage.

“You know her, you love her, our very own Capitol Princess and victor of the 69th Annual Hunger Games!" He shouted your name into the microphone to a resounding applause as you walked onto the stage. Making sure to wave to everyone you could each of whom flailed their arms in excitement. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we're very excited to have you back." People cheered in agreement as you let out an airy laugh in response.

“Well Ceaser, I'm glad to be back, everyone is so kind!" You were smiling so hard your nose scrunched up, in hopes that they found it adorable.

“I would ask you what you're most excited for now that you're back, but I think we know the answer to that one." He quirked his eyebrows and the audience murmured in agreement.

You felt your face getting hot and looked down shyly, “Oh Ceaser-" You tried to make yourself seem as much like a hopeful romantic, innocent girl as you could. Maybe it could reverse the effects that manipulating Conway may have had on how you were perceived.

“Am I right? Have you been able to rekindle flames with a certain Capitol Darling?" You hid your face in your hands for a second, kicking your legs, the audience laughed, and you were certain there must be cameras somewhere planted on Finnick to try and capture a reaction. "I think we know what that means.” Caesar shot his blinding smile at the crowd who cheered.

“All I can say is there are many things I'm excited to return to, and people." You'd accepted since your interview that if you did win then your romantic life would be of great interest to the Capitol, so you didn't shy away from playing into it, giving a small, longing look off the side of the stage that the cameras would be sure to pick up.

“And I suppose for now you'll make us settle for that as an answer?"

“For now, Caesar, a woman has to have her secrets." You repeated, alluding back to your original interview, and the audience gave a playful groan.

"Well then, for now, that's an answer we'll have to be happy with. But I know we're all burning to go over these highlights with you.” The highlights, your moment to try and keep up the persona while rewatching the moments already ingrained into your mind. Everyone watching seemed eager with anticipation of the cheers were any indicator.

“I wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting then." Your gaze was purposely wide and as doe-eyed as you could make it be. The Bloodbath was first, your kills, the alliance and you were able to maintain the facade as he pestered you about your abilities with the knife. You distracted your brain with how cold the auditorium seemed to be, how thin the fabric of the dress was which left you trying not to shiver. Then it was conversations with Conway and you tried even harder to play into the act while trying to detach yourself from reality.

“I know some people were definitely rooting for you and Conway in the tragedy of it all, but I have to ask, and I want you to be honest. Did you love him?"

“He was my closest friend in the world, of course I loved him." Not like how he wanted you too, or how you knew logically you should have loved him, but it was love. Your voice was soft, sweet, and trembled with the fear of tears. Which you decided could actually be helpful at some point to keep painting yourself in this light.

You could have sworn you saw audience members crying, not because they cared about you, or him, but because to them this was a tale of tragedy that added a kick to their entertainment. Caesar hummed, “But you loved someone else more?" His voice was softer in the microphone as well.

You looked at him, “Only one of us was going to come out of the arena, it wasn't a matter of who I loved more." What a lie, if it was Finnick you were certain you'd give it all up for him in a split second. Sounds of sobs filled your ears and you pushed down the anger you felt at these people for how they'd ripped your life, Conway's life apart , just to cry over it now. Next was the highlight where you'd almost died and that was much easier to talk about, besides the fact that you could currently feel how cold your nose was getting which made your body want to curl up, you took every muscle to resist that impulse though.

“What were you thinking when that parachute was flying down from the sky?"

“Honestly, Caesar, it's fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure I was hallucinating." You forced a nervous laugh which the audience returned in full force and so did Ceased. You turned your body to face them, “However since then all I've wanted to say is thank you, to all of you who sponsored me during the games." The tears about Conway you let spill in full force about this instead, silently hoping it would win even more people over. “I'm just so grateful for all the generosity you've shown me and I will forever be." The crowd gave out noises of approval.

When the coverage of the battle between your allies and the Careers began and all the way up to those you cared about most in those Games, you let your soul float into the clouds. Allowing a smiley, teary eyed autopilot to take over your brain. You don't remember leaving autopilot until you were seated in some sort of throne-like chair, President Snow giving a speech to the citizens of Panem. He turned to you and you rose as he approached you with a crown, a crown that represented how you backstabbed your way to the top.

You bowed your head slightly as he placed the cold metal on your head, “Wonderful job, my dear." He said gruffly with a smile and although you could feel your body shaking, you forced one back.

“Thank you, Mr. President."

Yet he reiterated his statement in a way that gave you chills that you couldn't understand, “A wonderful job, you've really proven what these games are about."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Did we leave the spile in one of the trees?” You ask, dehydration certainly isn't helping how lightheaded you felt.

Peeta nods, “Yeah, impossible to know which one though."

"I'll go find it then.” You volunteered.

"I need to give the beach a good walk around, as well, let my brain finish thinking something up.” Beetee stood up, coil of wire in hand.

“You're not going alone." Finnick objected, ready to go with you.

“I'm not going alone, I have Beetee. We'll be fine, Finnick, it's a circle you'll be able to see us the whole way around." He looked reluctant, but knew there wasn't much he could do unless he followed you around, but he couldn't leave Johanna to take care of both Katniss and Peeta.

He sighed, “Be safe." His tone was even, straight-laced, “Beetee make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

You scoffed, “I'm looking for a spile!" But Beetee nodded to Finnick. “I’ll be fine! If I need you I'll scream." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“I'll send out a search party if you're not back in 20 minutes."

You looked around the arena slowly before looking back at him, “I'm sure there's no way of telling, but I'll be back. I promise." You smiled and he's still frowning, but he kisses your forehead and lets you walk off with Beetee.

“20 minutes!" He shouts after you as you begin walking around the perimeter of the beach, looking around the trees.

“So what's your plan with that?" You nod towards the coil Beetee is fiddling with.

“We've got water, lighting, a conductor, everything we need to electrocute." Beetee responds, you're ducking in and out of the trees. Searching for where the spile could be nestled in. You're far enough that you can't really see the group through all the trees, but that doesn't bother you until you hear a scream. It's far enough away that it's faint, screams of a young girl and then Katniss. You and Beetee are looking around, listening to the noise that's carried only by the breeze, when another voice enters the cacophony. It's familiar to you, but your brain struggles to process the sound. “That's you." Beetee says slowly.

Your brain does; however, instantly register the next scream, calling your name, Finnick. Instantly you'd ran out of the treeline back into the sand, back to where you'd left the group. “Finnick!" You screamed back, heart racing in panic. “Johanna, where's Finnick?" Both him and Katniss are gone, you can hear their shouts on top of the other noises.

“He followed her in." Johanna tilted her head towards the jungle and your legs instantly started moving, to find him, to show him the screams aren't really you. “It's already closed off, you can't go in."

"What do you mean, closed off?” You get your answer instantly when your hands touch the shield surrounding the woods the screams are coming from. You see Katniss running forward screaming and Peeta comes up by you, telling her it's just the birds. What birds? She's being hounded by them as she falls to the ground and you realize the screams are coming from them.

“Jabberjays." Beetee says, coming up behind you. You let your hands trace along the wall as you keep walking.

“What're you doing?" Johanna asks, exasperated.

“I have to find him, if he can at least see me-" Her scoff interrupts you but you keep darting your eyes through the trees in this clear cage, following it.

“He knows by now that it's not really you.”

"I know that!” You don't mean to snap at her, it frustrates you that you even pulled your eyes away from the jungle. "I know him, Johanna, and if he can see me then he'll know for certain that I'm okay." You're about to turn in the jungle as you follow the wall but Johanna grabs your arm, you start to shove her off. “Let go of me!”

"You go in there and it could be the next hour, the moment those stupid mutts are done, whatever is in there you'll be stuck with.”

"I don't care!”

She grabs you again, "But he does!” The frustration makes you want to cry all over again. She's right and that infuriates you, looking back inside the bubble when you catch a glimpse of him. Sitting, knees to his chest, covering his ears as he whispers something to himself, eyes clenched shut as birds flutter around him.

You don't care if he can't hear you when you hit the wall, “Finnick! Finnick!" Johanna mumbles something, but you don't listen. Too busy trying to beg him to look your way, but he doesn't. All you can do is watch him as he talks to himself, the way his fingers dig into the side of his head, how hurt he looks. You hate yourself, for disregarding him to go search for the stupid spike, for letting him be there for you and now not being there for him. "There's gotta be a way to break it.” Your voice cracks.

"I helped design the technology, it's unbreakable." Beetee’s voice is quiet in the clamor going on in your head. You hate him too right now for giving them this, something to stop you from getting to him. Forehead pressed to the wall as you let yourself cry, let the shame take over your body. You've forced yourself to keep your eyes on him, to suffer more, a just punishment for allowing this to happen. If you'd stayed out then the screams wouldn't have ever lured him in deeper. At some point he removed his hands from his ears and began to stare forward numbly. Allowing the birds to screech in his ears with your stolen voice, you resent yourself more for not trying harder, for letting him slip into such a state even if there was nothing more to do. Centuries seem to pass when suddenly there's a silence and your head falls forward, the wall is gone, the birds are lying on the jungle floor.

Instantly you're running forward, you want to scream out in relief that it's finally over, but you're terrified to startle him. You kneel down in front of him, there are streaks on his face from what must have been tears, but now he's just blank. “Finn?" It's whispered, so as not to put him on alert.

Slowly his eyes moved to your face, at first it's somewhat untrusting, like he doesn't believe it's really you. The worry on your face must prove to him otherwise because that look is soon gone.

“Are you okay?" You know the answer is no, but you don't know what else to say, too guilt ridden to think of a way to help.

“Yeah, I'm fine." He mutters and you nod just kneeling by him.

Your stomach is churning, it felt like your blood was full of pure, unfiltered anxiety, so you force your foot not to tap, but you can feel your toes twitching. “I'm sorry.” You croaked out and he shook his head again, "No, I am, I'm sorry Finnick. I should've stayed with you, I should've-"

“Are you hurt?" His hoarse voice asks, it's numb like the way his eyes are.

“No, Finnick, I was fine, I am fine!"

“Then it doesn't matter." He shrugs.

“It matters to me." Finnick looks at you, like your words are finally sinking into him. Cautiously you bring your hands up to his, “Do you wanna go to the beach? We can, we can go there." Besides the fact he always wanted to be at the beach back home, that was especially true when the episodes of not being able to ignore the burden on his shoulders happened. Your own uncertainness made you angry with yourself, he was always putting on a facade to be strong when you needed him too and now when it was your turn, you couldn't even stop your voice from shaking. His head moved ever so slightly, “Yeah? Come on." Slowly you began to rise, keeping your hands on his as he stood as well. As carefully as you could you guided him back to the sands of the beach, to the waters.

He instantly submerged himself in the water as he sat down, letting waves rise on him. You followed suit, wrapping your arms around him and he leaned back into you. “Don't leave me either." Finnick eventually spoke, the setting sun highlighting his face.

You shook your head furiously, “I won't." Maybe you didn't understand what about you he found grounded or endeared him, but you did know you never wanted to see or even think of him the way you just had, again. You also accepted there would never be a day where you didn't think about it, what you did, how he looked, how he acted, how scared he seemed. It would haunt you and you would let it, if only to make sure it never happened again. Part of you wished the seawater would consume the both of you here, forever immortalize you with it and make sure there was never a moment you could be parted from each other's arms. Yet a larger piece of you was more determined than ever to execute the plan the best you could so you could be free of the control and mind games of the Capitol, so you could just live the rest of your life out with Finnick the way you'd both intended. To end it all, no matter what it took, so nobody else would have to live the life of the so-called ‘Victor.’

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I cannot thank you all enough for reading, this was a longer one and I'm sorry it took so long to get out. feedback, likes, comments, reblogs, are all super appreciated and my ask box is open, I'm slowly getting through requests as well! you're all so amazing and sweet, it's really kept my passion for this series alive and I have so many ideas. again thank you all so much for reading 💋

taglist: @coriolanussnowswife @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @libertyybellls @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery @ang3lflor @maxinehufflepuffprincess @prettybiching @miserablebl00d @wowzabowza69 @nomorespahgetti @problematicpastry @abaker74 @nj01 @whens-naptime @sarcasticbooknerd12 @cakes-hq @honethatty12 @s1lngwns

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x you #thg #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x you #finnick x reader #the lakes

[angelicsoka]

SARA, l. hughes

word count | 1.3k

pairings | luke hughes x fem!reader, platonic!quinn hughes x reader, platonic!jack hughes x reader

summary | luke’s girlfriend has suffered in silence for too long, and luke noticed the warning signs too late

warnings | HEAVY themes of suicide and suicidal ideation, mentions of self-harm and depression, underage drinking and smoking, mentions of blood. ANGST ANGST ANGST, open ending, this is not a happy fic, luke is fucking oblivious. based on the song sara by we three. no use of "y/n". lowercase intended

a/n | this is my first time posting in here so i'm still figuring out how this all works lol. this is NOT proofread. also this is probably the darkest thing i have ever really written.

little sara, you're a diamond in the rough

and i know that you don't hear this all enough

and i'm sure that's why your wrists have tons of cuts

and i'm sure that's why you think you're not enough

fingers traced over the faded scars and onto the raised ones, the urge more than she can handle. but she deserved this. she deserved to feel so shitty, she was shitty. she ruined everything good she had, her relationships and job. a repeated process, be happy for a while and then fuck everything up. “who would care if she fucked one more thing?” was the thought that ran through her head, crimson covering the sink.

your mind can only think about the things it shouldn't

your brain is filled with thoughts of wishing that ya didn't

little sara, perk your ears up, try to listen

but she can't hear a sound because she's locked in a prison

the room was loud, but the noise sounded so far away as she dazed off. she was brought back to reality by luke swinging his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close. the sudden movement made her quietly hiss as her arm brushed against him, the fresh wounds in the back of her mind. she forced a smile on her face, looking to luke who gently kissed her forehead. he offered her a beer, to which she took, ignoring the concerned look on quinn’s face. she had been drinking all night  but luke didn't have to know that. it slowed the thoughts, so how could it be a bad thing?

luke began to chat with his brothers and their friends, oblivious to the smile that had dropped from her face. oblivious to the fact that she was practically chugging the beer in hopes to stop the horrible thoughts that had begun to invade her brain once more.

and she was oblivious to the concerned looks of her boyfriend and friends as she abruptly got up, walking outside. she sat down, pulling the cigarette from its box, lighting it. she took a drag, jumping when a voice spoke up:

“you’re killing yourself, you know that?” she whipped her head around to see quinn standing there with his hands in his pockets. “does luke know you smoke?”

“why do you care?” she snapped, turning to look back at the yard. it was quiet, crickets chirping being the only thing making noise. she ignored quinn as he sat beside her, taking another drag. she held back her tears, not wanting to break down in front of her boyfriend’s oldest brother.

“he loves you, you know? the way he looks at you says it all. you're good for him. i don’t think i've seen him this happy in a long time.” she forced a small smile at quinn’s attempt to comfort her. he was lying, he had to be, because who could love a fuck up like her?

all your friends they wanna smoke 'cause it's a friday

but you've been smoking straight probably since last sunday

i know you know you shouldn't say that you are okay

but you still look 'em in the eye and lie then go to use your ashtray

she was high, but when was she not? the boys passed around the blunt, each taking drags from it. they were joking around, jack and trevor wrestling beside her. luke held her close, his fingers gently running down her arm. she ignored the burning sensation that occurred when luke’s fingers accidentally brushed over her wound, a smile plastered on her face. luke seemed to be the only who didn’t notice that the smile didn’t meet her eyes. she huffed out a laugh at a joke made by cole, settling her head against luke’s shoulder. for a moment, she felt happy; carefree. 

that all ended when that singular thought crossed her mind: they hate you. such a simple thought, but she felt as though she had been sucker punched. she subtly shifted off of luke, who seemingly didn’t notice. she twiddled with her thumbs, ignoring the feeling of someone looking at her. she felt jack nudge her, handing her the blunt. she accepted it, unable to really meet his eyes. “you okay?” quinn mouthed to her when she met his eyes. 

“yeah.” she lied through her teeth, averting her eyes and grabbing the ashtray.

little sara, last night, you got it bad

in that moment, you could barely even

add up two or three reasons why you're glad

and i guess that's why you grabbed your pen and pad

it was 6:14, and you could barely even read

all the words you'd written down when it was time for you to leave

your phone was on the ground and you could barely hear it ring

couldn't even hear a sound, couldn't feel a single thing

nights were the worst. being alone in her thoughts led to serious consequences, this night no different. she did what she was suppose to, all the coping skills she had learned. still, she couldn’t come up with any reason to stick around, which is why she now sat at her desk, scribbling rapidly. she couldn’t hardly read the words on the paper, tears cascading down her rosy cheeks as she practically destroyed her desk in search of the blade. the distance sound of her phone ringing stopped her for a moment, the contact name and picture for luke clear on her phone. she pushed the second-guessing thoughts aside, muting the call.

luke swore when she once again did not pick up, the text that started this now open: i love you, lukey. i hope you can forgive me. he swore to himself, angry that he had missed the signs. as he thought about it, the signs were so clear, how could he have not noticed? he begged for jack to drive faster, dialing her number once more. luke wiped his tears as jack sped up, praying for her to be okay. he hoped he would make it in time, to be there when she needed him most.

now it's 6:15, and you're on your knees

blood is on your sleeves, and your lungs won't breathe

eyes are watering, body's shivering

and you're wondering what is happening

now it's 6:23, and they're on their knees

begging "jesus please, can you make her breathe?"

'cause they finally see what was happening

underneath their nose and underneath your sleeves 

she sat against her bed, sobs racking through her body. her chest was tight, her breaths short as she began to lose consciousness. she began to shiver uncontrollably, curling into herself to create any kind of warmth. she looked up when the door was kicked in, her vision blurring. her eyes fluttered close as luke ran to her side, her life slowly leaving her body. 

“get something to stop the bleeding!” luke yelled to jack who was frozen under the doorframe. he snapped out of it, grabbing the blanket that was balled up on her bed. he began to put pressure on her wounds as luke pleaded with her to wake up. they continued this until the paramedics arrived, luke hesitant to leave her side. for the first time in a long time, luke cried into his brother’s shoulder. and he swore to himself that he would never miss the signs again.

she can barely see the pavement

she can barely read the signs

people think she's complicated

but never wanna look inside

'cause she's a little too r-rated

and they're a little too damn blind

she's just looking for her angels

but they're a little hard to find

#nhl #nhl imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #new jersey devils #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #sara by we three #angelicsoka #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #hughes brothers

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Reverse-verse.

Content warning at the end for suicidal ideation. Nothing graphic.

Jason leaned against the wall where Babs was typing training notes and jerked his head to where you were talking to Bruce. Evidence notes in hand. "So the Emo doesn't have to train why?"

"Physiology," she answered, not looking up. "When they messed with the structures in her brain they messed with well... everything." "Which translates to no cardio how?" he scoffed, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"If she trained like the rest of you she'd have to eat like a Speedster and take enough vitamins to fuck her organs," she said. "If that's not clear enough- They made her pretty powerful sure but also pretty fragile."

"So much for a super soldier-"

"She's slightly stronger and slightly faster than a normal person but only in short bursts. And she lives in constant hell. So. You know. I don't begrudge her not having to run." She gave him a meaningful look, eyes narrowing.

"It can't be that bad."

Barbara shrugged, "If you're man enough, have her show you. If you're not- or she won't- Ask Bruce how he found her. Then see if you say that." And before he could sulk anymore, she stowed her laptop in it's compartment and left. He had every right to be pissed. At Bruce. At the Joker. At every injustice in the world. But- you hadn't had anything to do with it and she was tired of hearing about it.

_________________

"Jason," Bruce said glancing up, "you can't have-"

"It's not about guns," he snorted. "I'm not carrying the stupid crowbar. A tire Iron is more fun. I wanna know about Y/N."

"Why?" Bruce asked, eyes narrowing.

"Well, she's one of my replacements so-"

"No one replaced you, first of all. And second of all-"

"Where'd you find her?" he asked, cutting to the chase. He hadn't asked you. It felt weird. Mostly because you would barely look at him. And you only ever spoke to him when you needed to in order to be polite.

Bruce sat back in his chair with a sigh and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "If you use this to-"

"I just wanna know!" he protested. "Everyone treats her like a pet!"

"We," Bruce started after a long moment, "found her in the bottom of a cage. Almost dead. Mostly naked and filthy. Treated worse than an animal. If she hadn't whimpered, Dick would have thought she was dead." Bruce paused for a second; swallowing down the sick feeling he'd thought was the gore and the scent of blood in the air.

"Scientists were looking for kids like her. Kids with heightened abilities they could exploit," he explained. "She was the last survivor, somehow."

Jason wasn't looking at him. If not for how still he was, and how tense, Bruce would have thought he wasn't listening. But now, his sense of injustice was rankled. And he was listening. "Long story short," he continued, not wanting to dwell on it, "they wanted a soldier. They tried to desensitize her to violence and well. It didn't go like they planned."

"How?" he asked, looking up slowly.

"They forced her to kill people," Bruce said wincing.

"But when you found her-"

"She was trying to kill herself," Bruce said sadly. "She lost control and made a building of scientists and guards- about 20 people kill themselves."

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #science experiment!reverse

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 51

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Trapped in another holding pattern. That's all that life seems to be. Phases. Dull and prolonged. Waiting but for what?

Your days aren't much different than before Lloyd's return. He may as well have stayed gone. For you, he's not there. He's nothing. He doesn't deserve to be anything to you.

Your routine once more stagnates; sleep and feedings and some crying. Between it all, you see Harlan or Dottie, sometimes both. Your mother-in-law has grown quiet, even evasive, since her son came back. You know why but you won't argue with her or her precious Marion.

You get your walks in, looking forward to the escape from the suffocating walls. Andy passes you often, waving or saying hi. He doesn't try to talk again, not with your father around. They barely acknowledge each other. You ignore his texts. You're still trying to figure it all out.

When you're at home, Harlan holds Luna as you catch up on your reality TV. You whisper back and forth about your most hated personalities. It can never be what it once was, or what you wished it could be, but it's manageable.

That day, Harlan and Dottie go into town to do some shopping. You haven't seen Lloyd but you don't mourn his absence. Not like before.

You have Luna downstairs in her rolling bassinet. She's fully fed and sleepy. You might do some cooking. You're finally feeling up to it.

You shiver and watch your daughter dozing peacefully. Why is it so cold in here? You hug yourself and notice the draft freezing in from the kitchen. You find one of the french doors slightly open and push it shut. You can guess who did it. You should lock him out but you'd rather not provoke a confrontation.

You go back to the front room. Something feels off. You don't know. Maybe it's just the empty house. You check the thermostat then the bassinet. Luna is tucked against the side. She must feel it too.

You make sure the wheels are locked before you flit out to grab a quilt from the nursery. You pant as you get to the top of the stairs. Whew, you still got work to do before you're anywhere close to back to normal.

You snatch the sewn pink blanket and come back down, catching your breath as you sweep through the doorway.

“Lulu,” you say quietly, “gonna swaddle you up–”

You notice the angle of the bassinet. It's not how you left it, almost parallel to the sofa instead. You rush over and nearly scream as the bottom stares back at you empty.

You drop the quilt and spin, searching for any sign of the culprit. You storm back into the foyer and stomp a foot.

“Lloyd!” You bellow, not caring if you wake the babe, “where the fuck are you? Give me my baby!”

Nothing. Just the echo of your anger. You snarl and holler again. Louder.

“LLOYD! I'M NOT FUCKING AROUND!”

You stride forward and go down the hall. Not in the kitchen. Nope, not in the dining room either. You go through the first floor, yelling, then ascend the stairs again. There's no way he could've snuck her up there.

“You motherfucker. Lloyd!” You stop at the top, “it's not fucking funny.”

“Jesus Christ!” You hear a door swing open, then another as he comes out of his bedroom, “what is it now? Wanna call me more names? Push me around?”

He has a towel clutched around his waist as his feet slap on the floor. He glistens, his hair slick and dripping the noise of the shower still buzzing. You gulp and your heart drops.

“Lloyd, give her back.”

“What?”

“Don't. Give me Luna.”

“Luna–” he grimaces, “what the fuck? You serious? You won't let me see her and now– wait, where is she?”

You stand silent in horror. He's a loar to the bone but dammit, he's convincing.

“You took her. I know… I went to get her a blanket and you…”

“I've been in the shower for twenty minutes, sweetheart,” he sneers, “I… she's… gone?”

You croak. It's all you can do. You spin and hurtle back downstairs. You near the bassinet again and squeal. Gripping the sides as panic floods your chest.

“She's gone! Lloyd! My baby! Where is she?!”

You hear him come downstairs and his footsteps rush across the floor, searching everywhere you did. He appears from the kitchen, barely hanging onto his towel. You look at him as he stares at you palely.

“The back door was unlocked.”

“I know, I thought you were out there–”

“Peaches,” he utters as his eyes dilate, “call the police.”

🍑

You're still sobbing as the red and blue flash on the other side of the window. You told the story a dozen times over. It's 2am and you haven't seen Luna in thirteen hours. You feel her absence heavy in your chest.

Your baby. You failed her. She's gone and it's all your fault.

Why didn't you just take her upstairs? Why did you want to cook? Why weren't you watching her? Why didn't you lock the goddamn door?

“Honey,” Harlan clinks down a mug and his weight dips beside you on the couch, “they'll find her. She can't have gone far.”

“No, no, no,” you bawl, head throbbing, “someone took her. Someone– it's all my fault–”

“Shhh, shhh, it's alright. It'll be alright. She got everyone lookin’, they'll find her.”

“I fucked up!” You fold over your lap, “I was selfish--c-c-carlessssss.”

He hushes you again and rubs your back. You can hear the police milling around outside, a few inside still investigating every nook and cranny.

“Ma'am,” an officer approaches, “we're doing what we can but these things can take a while. You know, we got a few volunteers from the neighborhood too and some statements–”

“I don't care! I want my daughter back,” you snap.

“Sorry, officer, she's just…scared,” Harlan slings his arm over your shoulders.

“Understood,” the officer says, “we're doing all we can.”

You sniffle and bury your face in your palms. This can't be real. It is and it's all on you. You wished so many times that Luna would just go away, you didn't want her, you remember that, and now that wish came true. You are a monster.

“Breathe,” Harlan coos as your breath turns shallow and suffocating, “honey, please, you needa–”

“Let me look!” You sit up, so dizzy you nearly keel over, “I wanna look for her.”

“Dear, you already did. You needa rest.”

“No, no!” You shove him away and stand, slippers slapping as you stomp around the couch, “she's my baby, I can find her! I know I will.”

“You won't help. Lloyd's already out there–” Harlan calls after you as he follows.

You hurry through the entryway and burst out the front door. You hear your father swearing as he scrambles for his shoes. The snow crunches under your thin soles as you jog past the cruisers and the uniformed figures.

You turn down the street without a thought. The streetlights flash over you, yellow, then darkness, yellow, dark…. You don't know where you're going. Maybe you want to disappear too.

You hear Harlan calling your name but he's getting further away, not closer. You slow down and cough, lungs burning. You lean on a fence post and bend to collect yourself.

“What are you doing out here?” A drawl brings you straight up.

You squint. You think it's Lloyd at first, you haven't seen him since the police got there. Andy steps into the soft hue of the lightpole.

“I… what are you doing?” You throw the question back at Andy.

“I'm a volunteer firefighter. Heard there was a missing baby so I've been helping. I'm sorry to hear about Luna. I don't know who would do this.”

You shake your head and snivel, “I don't know.”

“I know what it's like to lose a child but… I think… she's out there. It'll be okay. You'll see her again, I know it.”

“I hope,” your voice cracks and wipes your eyes as your grief spills anew, “I should go back.”

He says nothing. You back away and turn, dragging your feet down the pavement. You see the sirens lit up and the distant beans of flashlights. Suddenly, you're caught around the neck, a hand smothering your mouth.

“Do you wanna see her?” Andy whispers as you kick out, “Luna needs her mommy…” he wrestles you out of the cone of light and behind the fence, “so do I.”

You thrash, clawing at his sleeve. Your slippers fly off in your struggle as he squeezes tighter. No, it can't be him.

You were wrong. Again.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #unexpected #series #drabble #the gray man #defending jacob

[moonlit-dreamers]

hot take but i dont think sun is suicidal

i dont think hes the one with the worst mental health in this show either

besides eclipse (bc thats obvious), id say solar has the worst mental health

hes already killed 2 ppl (didnt want to kill either of them and one was on accident), is insecure about his own identity (asked computer if hes like the other eclipses, and i also bet montys... "teasing" didnt help), has no hobbies of his own, refuses to actually acknowledge his own issues, doesnt communicate to ppl and tries to "not be a bother" to others, never does anything for himself and only ever does when someone tells him to, and probably more.

but i'll analyze solar and his shit mental health later; i wanna ramble about sun

i dont think sun has ever been actively suicidal, mainly passive. in case ur wondering wut the difference is:

being passively suicidal is having thoughts and "wishes" but never actually planning to do anything. a lot of ppl will think "i wish i was dead" when in reality wut they need is a break and they have no real desire to die (this is a common thought process to have when ur burnt out or generally in a mental rut)

being actively suicidal is actually planning to do something and seeking out ways to harm urself with the intent of being severely injured or dying. this is an immediate emergency

sun never went out in search of ways to die. he never planned out ways he could kill himself. the time we heard him say "i wish i was dead" was right after he hallucinated bloodmoon and old moon taunting him. he was tired and he needed a fucking break, so he expressed that through saying "i wish i was dead". now u might be thinking "but birdcage, he did go out and do risky things knowing he might die" yes, that is true. but that does not mean that dying was his intention. he went out and did dangerous things bc he wanted to help, not die.

but if we return to the current moment; he is absolutely not suicidal. his mental health is deteriorating, yes. but from wut i can tell he hasnt shown any signs of suicidal ideation. for a while sun said he had pretty stable mental health. it was only until eclipse came back did his health really start to deteriorate again. then if u add on to how hes constantly being pushed to the side and ignored by his own family (im more than mildly frustrated by that) that is absolutely a disaster brewing under the surface. but does that mean hes currently, at the very least passively, suicidal? no. probably not. at least, from wut we can tell there isnt much to back up the idea that he is.

wut sun needs is to be acknowledged and let in on the happenings of the family instead of being ignored. he also needs to learn how to communicate better bc the severe lack of it is wuts going to cause the downfall of everyone in the show

#birdcage rambles #suicide #suicidal thoughts #i really felt like explaining the difference between passive and active suicidal thoughts is VERY important for this conversation #bc. from wut i could tell. sun was never actively suicidal #unless im missing something #it was always passive #sun and moon show #sams #tsams #the sun and moon show #sams sun #tsams sun #sun sams #sun tsams #sams solar #tsams solar #i think he still counts to be added in here since i talked about him briefly

[caliburn-not-calculator]

I ramble about: VR-LA’s Character Arc

I feel like I’m just saying loads of the obvious with this but I still wanna say it cause it’s in my head and won’t leave.

Anyway, heads up for mention of: Suicidal Ideation and Tendencies

VR-LA’s story starting from a place of absolute aloneness and even suicidal ideation, but ending with so many families, friends, and homes and a promise made in the maze of life to keep on going… It has me feeling things

He begins with nothing but flimsy phantom feelings from his past and his strengthening relationship with his friends keeping him stable. And, as seen with the Zuggtmoy madness and the despondency well, without them he ends up right back in that spiral. Right back in that trap of wondering it it would better to have not woken up on the ship.

Later, his isolation through his wish and utter dedication finding his old crew puts a slight wedge that relationship. His drive to find his past nearly breaks his present, and he ends up having to reconstruct both his bonds with them (though minorly) and his old crew. It’s the thing that leads him to try and leave his past in the past, and focus on what he has now. He tells Dani that when he dies it’ll be on this ship, that he isn’t going anywhere. He picks this life over the old one. That connection to his family and home that has kept him going, now stronger… but not yet healthy, not yet healed. The stubborn refusal to leave his past comminuted to be put to rest through season 4 now he’s learned how unhealthy it was to dwell on it. Killing Endellion, proclaiming to his old crew that the old him is gone, being willing to give up the ship to Dani. Being willing to give up and leave behind the home he once pledged to die on. All of that showing how his outlook has progressed from the Then, to the Now, setting up the lead in to the Later he comes to look forward to in season 5.

But at this point, VR-LA’s pledge to die on the ship is still standing, until all of sudden that declaration is thrown into question by his promise to Maxim. An unexpected moment, maybe considered quietly in the back of his mind for awhile, but now coming to a head at the wake up call that is Maxim’s constant refutes to VR-LA risking his life. Maybe it wasn’t fully true at the time, maybe it was part desperate ploy to win him over and part the first realisation that the future he had always thought inevitable didn’t have to be. Whatever it was, that first promise set him on the path to looking not just back, not just around, but forward.

An episode later, VR-LA is lost in the not so metaphorical maze of life. He knows his past and how he feels about it, he knows his present and all the new bonds he’s formed in this second life. But the question of what comes next looms before him, despite his gripes with what happened before, this is the major decision he faces. And it isn’t the death on the ship he always thought would come, the death he once considered accepting while adrift, but rather… life. What he finds and chooses at the end of the maze is a long life, well lived. The exact opposite of everything he thought he had always been moving toward.

I was not expecting to find a story about coming to heal from suicidal ideation in my silly autism robit but oh boy… oh fucking hell is it there.

AND THEN, how he literally ends the series with a proclamation that no longer is he going to “die on this ship” or “wonder if it would be better to not wake up”, but that he’s taking dying of old age a challenge. How he refuses anything less than that. How despite his new dangerous position, despite stepping up and not back, he is not looking for anything less than that future he found at the end of the maze.

VR-LA starts too focused on the past, moves on to trying to focus on his present, then eventually the future. And if that progression wasn’t good enough, by the end he manages to have them all. His memories and old crew, the crew of the Per Aspera and a life of adventure, his increasingly pivotal role as magister and his aim to grow old.

Like, when I first heard the silly “Hello! I am VR-LA :D” and “Will you be our captain?” robot, I was not expecting a story about overcoming suicidal tendencies and growing to accept and combine all aspects of yourself. Like, fucking hell WHY IS HE LIKE THIS HSJDBDKDBDKFB

It’s such a well done arc for an improv show, and yeah there’s the little awkward unclear points but overall it’s so fulfilling and complete, while leaving further room to settle and heal. Right from season one he proclaims it’s the fight against entropy that makes life worth living, and the the whole show he fights that fight with himself. He goes from someone willing, and perhaps even on some level wanting, to die, to someone actively fighting for the opposite. He goes from empty of will to live and memory to, in his own words, “overflowing”.

Anyway, I love this silly robot, he makes me feel too many things, and I can’t wait to see what new stories come to pass next campaign.

#rolling with difficulty #rwd #vr-la rwd #why is he #ahhhhhh #it’s a very good story of healing from trauma and growing into oneself I have to say #maybe I’m wayyyy overthinking it #but like looking back now it works too good #I love

[callmelittlebuttercup]

Peace Offerings Pt.5

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Series Summary: Joel makes a bad impression on the reader when he cuts in front of her at the radio station in the QZ. Abe, a father figure to her and an informant of Joel’s, informs her that the two have something in common: A brother in Wyoming. Joel reluctantly follows Abe’s wishes when he asks him to take the reader along to help find her brother too. As the journey goes on, she finds that despite his best efforts to make her think so, Joel isn’t a complete asshole, and maybe even a little… attractive?

Series Warnings: Slow burn, 18+ Minors DNI, Age gap (Reader is 34, Joel is 56.) Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Cursing, Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical suicide, suicidal ideation, claustrophobia, symptoms of a panic attack

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Five

 My eyes shot open and the hair on my neck raised at the sound of glass crunching. I stayed still and eyed the figures approaching us. With the dull light coming in from the windows, I could just barely make out the figures of a taller man, and a small child. The figures got closer and closer, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I sat up and gripped my knife in my hand before calling out, “Don’t fucking move.” The man froze and put his hand up against the kid’s chest. My eyes shot to Joel. I was surprised to see that he hadn’t been woken up, then I realized he’d turned over onto his other side. 

          The two pulled guns out of their pockets. The taller boy was aiming at me and the small one was aiming at Joel. “Shit.” I whispered. “Your man dangerous?” The tall one asked, his voice shaking with anxiety. I looked at Joel. “Harmless.” I said, as I looked up to the young man. “I don’t fucking believe you.” He shook the gun in my face and I flinched, “Fuck. Wake him up and we can talk.” I shook my head, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Look, we have a little food and some clothing in our packs. That’s all. You can take it and get out of here unharmed. Best option in my opinion.” The man looked to the little boy, and moved his one hand, making out symbols. Sign language. He looked back at me, “We don’t want your things. We want to help you.” 

        I didn’t know what to do. His offer for help was confusing to me. How did he know we were in trouble? If anything it seemed like he needed help, especially having a little boy to take care of. There’s no telling how Joel would react to me accepting their help without his approval. Plus I was already teetering onto his bad side. 

         The man’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, “C’mon lady!” I put my hands up and stood up very slowly. “He’s hard of hearing, can I get closer to him?” I asked. He nodded quickly and shifted his eyes to the sleeping figure. I cautiously walked over to him, and stood above him a safe distance away. “Joel.” I said. Nothing. “Joel!” I raised my voice and he shot up, first looking at me and then whipping his head around to comprehend the situation. “Eyes on me. You don’t have to worry about what to say. We don’t want to hurt you.” The young man demanded, “We wanna help you.” Joel’s eyes were wild, but he answered calmly, “Okay.” The boy shifted on his feet, “Um okay… so if I lower my gun, we didn’t hurt you. So you don’t hurt us. That’s how this works right?” Joel responded in the same tone, “That’s right.” Panic filled the boy’s voice, “That’s a wierd fuckin’ tone man..” I swallowed, “That’s just the way he sounds. He has an asshole voice. Joel, tell him he’s okay.” I breathed. Joel paused for a moment, keeping his intimidating stare planted on the man before saying in the same tone, “Everything is great.” I sighed angrily and reprimanded him for once, “Joel!” The man, still holding the gun to me shouted, “Fuck! Okay… listen, I’m gonna trust you.” And signed something to the little boy across from him. There was an exchange between them, and then he continued, “But if either of you guys try anything….. yeah?” I nodded, and he gestured to Joel who gave a small nod before asking, “Can I sit up?” The man nodded, “Yeah. Slow.” Joel raised his back off of the makeshift cot, and questioned again, “Who are you?” The man shifted on his feet again, still not lowering his gun. “My name is Henry. That’s my brother Sam. I’m the most wanted man in Kansas City.” Joel’s face dropped and so did my stomach, “Although right now, my guess is you’re running a close second.” 

          Once the negotiations simmered down, I offered the boys some food from my pack while ignoring the look Joel gave me. We sat around the lantern and ate quietly. “Where’d you get these?” Henry asked, referring to the sandwiches we’d split up and scarfed down. I waited for Joel to speak, but received nothing. “From a friend of his.” I answered. There was another moment of glum silence before Joel wrapped up the rest of his sandwich and leaned over to offer it to the little boy. My heart fluttered at the gesture. Maybe this would be okay. “He says thank you. I’m guessing you don’t have much so this means a lot.” Henry said after the boy signed something to him. 

          Now that there wasn’t a gun to my head, I told the boys my name and watched Henry sign it to Sam. We all looked at Joel who was absentmindedly chewing. I slapped his knee with the back of my hand and he jumped, his eyes shifting between me and the boys. “I’m Joel. Look, you ate. we didn’t kill each other. Let’s call this a win-win and move on.” I rolled my eyes and watched as Henry wrung his hands together. “Well, I’m betting… that y’all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out.” 

Daylight came, shining through the ginormous windows of the conference room we’d moved to so Joel and Henry could draw out a plan. I sat with Sam and got to know him a little more by exchanging his little drawing pad he had wrapped around his neck back and forth. My heart melted from the kid’s sweet smile every time he wrote something and showed it to me, then waited for my response. As I interacted with Sam, I still tried to keep my ear in the two men’s conversation. I couldn’t make out much except for “tunnels” and “rats” which didn’t sound like much fun. 

After a few more moments of giggling and talking to Sam, there was a light tap on my shoulder. I instinctively jumped and turned to see who it was. Joel was standing behind me with his arms crossed. He nodded his head towards the hallway before saying, “Come with me.” I wrote “Be right back!” on Sam’s notepad and handed it to him with a warm smile before standing up and following Joel into the hallway. He stopped a few feet away from the door, making sure we wouldn’t be heard. I stood there with my arms folded over my chest and shot him an expectant look. He cleared his throat before speaking, “The kid claims he knows his way through the tunnels under the city. Promises he can get us out with little to no risks.” I made a pfffft sound and repeated, “Little to no risks?” He nodded, and crossed his arms, “I know. Sounds like a load of bullshit. But he insists.” I stared at the floor, mulling through my thoughts. The sound of tunnels in a world like today’s did not sound enticing in the least bit. The thought actually made me feel lightheaded. “Do we have any other choice?” I asked. “I can’t think of a better plan.” he shrugged. 

We packed up our things and began our journey. We snuck through a few buildings before coming to the entrance of the tunnels. Henry opened the door and started in, but I paused. My feet felt like they were glued to the ground and my legs had turned to static. I heard Joel say my name, but I just stared into the door and down the long, dark tunnel. A hand on my shoulder jolted me back to reality, and I turned to Joel. “You okay?” Joel whispered. I nodded and pried my feet off the floor to walk through the large metal door. 

The tunnel was cold and had a strange, unsettling smell. Our footsteps and the sound of something I desperately hoped was water dripping echoed. I held my flashlight tight as I followed Henry through every twist and turn. Our group had been arranged into a very specific line. Henry first, Sam, me, and then Joel. My anxiety about being trapped in a tunnel was slightly relieved with the knowledge that he was behind me, but the place still started to feel suffocating after being down there long enough. I tried to steady my breathing, and dug my nails into my palms to stay alert. I must have slowed down my pace because I felt Joel’s hand pushing lightly into my back. “Come on, we’re almost there.” He whispered. His words grounded me, and I was able to keep myself together the rest of the way. 

We emerged from the tunnels long after nightfall, and began to walk down a suburban street that was littered with abandoned cars. We stayed quiet and moved swiftly down the street, being sure to keep our bodies low enough to not be seen over the cars. Just as I thought we were making it through with ease, a bullet whizzed past my head. I threw myself to the ground and rolled to press my back up against a car. Joel was next to me, but Henry and Same had split over to another car across the way. I looked at Joel, his eyes were wide as he peaked over the hood to get a glimpse of where the bullets were coming from. He knelt back down to face me. “They’re coming from that house up there. I’m going to go try and take him out. You get Sam and Henry as far away from here as possible and I’ll find you.” He said as he grabbed his gun out of his backpack. My chest tightened at the thought of him leaving us, “Joel…” I said, fear tightening my throat. He looked up from his gun and saw my fear-stricken form. He leaned in and placed his hands on my arms, “Do you trust me?” His brown eyes searched my face for an answer. I closed my eyes, took a hefty breath, and nodded. He nodded and squeezed my arms before standing and sprinting off to sneak to the house. 

After taking another deep breath, I stayed low to the ground and scrambled to meet Sam and Henry behind the car they were squatting behind. Henry looked confused, “Where’s Joel?” I pulled my gun out of my bag while answering, “He’s going to try to take out the sniper in the house. I’ll lead us out of here and he’ll meet us.” He nodded and took Sam’s hand. We scrambled from car to car, moving slowly, but still making progress. We took a longer pause behind a yellow car to catch our breaths when all of a sudden we heard the sound of an engine roaring down the street. Henry and I stared in horror at the giant tank motoring towards us. I shielded my eyes from the light as the vehicle approached. “We gotta move.” I yelled before sprinting through a line of cars. Sam and Henry were on my heels, but we were forced to drop down behind another car when the trucks barreled through the cars and  a line of bullets sprayed down from the house. They weren’t aiming for us anymore which told me Joel had made it.

 I didn’t have time to celebrate as a group of men with guns surrounded the three of us. I raised my hands above my head, and the boys did the same. “Henry!” A woman called out. I could only assume it was Kathleen. She appeared in front of the tank, her petite frame and soft features were even less intimidating than her voice was. “Remember me?” She asked condescendingly as she approached. I looked at Henry, trying to get a sense of their relationship, and from his panicked face, I concluded it was not good. “Please. I’ll surrender if you promise to leave them alone.” Henry breathed. Kathleen shrugged and trained her gun onto the little boy. What she said next made my skin crawl, “Well kids die, Henry. They die all the time. You think the world revolves around him? That he’s worth everything? Well this is what happens when you fuck with fate.”  Her gaze traveled towards me, and I froze as her eyes met mine. “And you. I have someone who’s been wanting to see you.” She turned to the side to let a man walk in front of her. My chest tightened as I realized who it was. The man from the attack in the city stood there with his lip curled into a sickening grin. I shot back a menacing stare as I prepared myself to fight him yet again. “Do whatever you want to her. But him, he’s mine.” the woman demanded.The man nodded and began to walk towards me but stopped short as a huge rumbling sound filled the air. The group of people turned around and I strained my neck to catch a glimpse. 

Horror numbed my body as I watched the ground crumble underneath the weight of the tank, causing a horde of clickers to come flooding out. Seeing opportunity, I grabbed Sam’s hand and began to sprint towards the house. Joel was attempting to shoot any infected that got close to us, but there were too many. We made it a few feet before the horde caught up to us and we were forced to hide under a car. I pulled in panicked breaths as I thought of our next move. Suddenly, Henry began to scream as he was pulled out. I grabbed onto his hand and tried to play tug of war with the clicker over him, but it was too strong, and pulled me out with him. I jumped to my feet and slammed my knife into the infected’s head. Henry shook its limp hands off of his leg. “You okay?” I asked him, scanning over for any bites or scratches. He shook his head and pulled his brother from under the truck. There was a lull in the waves of infected as they became preoccupied with destroying Kathleen’s people. 

The boys and I were nearing the house when the woman called Henry’s name again. She was standing on the hill, just feet away from us, pointing her gun towards Henry. “It’s over Henry. Surrender now.” She called over the chaos ensuing around us. I saw her hand tighten around her gun. I was ready to push Henry out of the way, but was pleasantly surprised to see an infected little girl launch her small body onto Kathleen. I pushed Henry and yelled, “Go!” We sprinted to the side of the house, finally escaping the hell scape of the street. I began to do what I promised Joel, and ushered the boys further into the woods, but a familiar voice caused me to stop. It was Joel. 

Relief washed over me as he came into view. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern. Sam threw his small body towards him and wrapped his arms around Joel’s waist. He looked at the boy, a pained expression on his face, but then reluctantly patted him on the back with one hand. I let a small smile spread across my face at the fondness Sam had developed for Joel in such a short time. I found myself having the urge to hug him too, but I quickly pushed that thought from my mind as Joel pushed ahead of us and began to lead us into the woods. 

We came across a motel for the night which Joel and Henry cleared before letting Sam and I in. Henry was in the other room, tucking Sam into bed, and I sat in the living room on the couch next to Joel. I’d decided to change the bandage on my hand since I had a moment. I’d been too preoccupied to take proper care of it the past few days. “So who was up there?” I asked absentmindedly. “Some old guy. I tried to negotiate, but you know how that goes.” He said solemnly. I nodded, “Now you get why I like to take action.” I teased lightheartedly. He shook his head, the side of his lip twitching. I looked at him. He was exhausted. His eyes  trained on the floor, and his dark hair ruffled atop his head. I studied the patchy beard that inhabited his strong jawline. I’d never noticed the small amount of gray sprinkled into it, showing his wisdom. I quickly shifted my eyes off of him when I noticed myself leaning towards his figure. What was I doing? This man wanted nothing to do with me, and here I was admiring his features. I sucked in a breath and stood up. His eyes followed me as I did so. “I’m going to get some sleep.” I mumbled while avoiding eye contact. “G’night.” He grunted. I nodded and walked over to the bed across the room, stretching my aching back before I laid down onto the soft, dusty mattress. 

         The next morning, Henry, Joel, and I sat in the main room of the motel, silently mulling last night’s situation around in our heads. We had tended to our wounds from the fights as we waited for Sam to wake up. “Alright, we said we’d let the kid sleep as long as he wanted but it’s been long enough.” Joel said impatiently. I looked at Henry who was elevating his leg. He’d twisted his ankle when he was running from the hoard. I stood up, “Ok if I get him?” Henry nodded. I turned and walked towards the door, opening it slowly. Sam was sitting up on the bed, staring vacantly out the window. “Oh, you’re up! Good morning silly goose.” I cooed. He turned towards me and immediately bared his teeth. My stomach dropped. He then jumped up and lunged towards me. I stumbled backwards as his body made impact with mine, and my panicked screams filled the air has I pushed to keep his mouth as far away from me as possible. Joel and Henry jumped up, Joel immediately pointing a gun at Sam, but Henry threatened him. “Then you better fuckin’ do something.” I heard Joel say. Sam continued to attempt to bite me but I kept pushing and kicking as panicked tears streamed down my face, “Sam please!” I begged. I knew he was gone, that he’d been taken over by the cordyceps, but some delusional part of me thought he might’ve been playing and would just snap out of it at any moment. “HENRY.” Joel screamed, and a shot rang out. Sam’s body flew off of mine from the impact of the bullet. I laid there, shaking, unwilling to look at the now lifeless child, and turned my head towards the two men. Henry still held the gun and had a vacant look in his eyes. He first pointed it at Joel, then me while repeating “What did I do?” He continued to aim the gun at me and I shakily raised my hands above my head. “Henry, get the gun off of her.” Joel pleaded in a calming voice, “Just put the gun down, you’ll be okay.” Henry stared for just a moment before turning the gun to his own head. “HENRY, NO!” Joel and I’s voices filled the air before the gun went off one last time. 

           I sat huddled on the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees, my eyes flitting between the two bodies. Joel stood with his chest heaving, eyes doing the same as mine. No matter how hard I tried to keep the sobs from escaping my throat, the grief was too powerful. I pressed my hand against my mouth as they came in between desperate heaves. Joel hesitated, but then came to kneel beside me. His hand hovered above my back, and then I felt the warmth of it press against me. I looked up at him, he held that same look of pity in his eyes. 

           I barely knew the man, but I knew that I trusted him. He ensured my safety an uncountable amount of times already. As I sat there on the floor in between the two, sweet, brave, and now dead boys, I needed a shoulder to cry on. Joel was there, though it was stiff and unmoving, it was warm and let me know I wasn’t alone. I sat up off of him and sniffled, “How did we not know he was infected? We should’ve checked.” His hand didn’t leave my back as he remained next to me, “Wouldn’t have changed his fate.” Joel grunted, “N’ Henry would’ve killed himself some other time.” I looked at him through teary eyes, “Why would he do that? In front of us?” I sobbed. Joel pressed his lips together and shifted his eyes to the floor, “Death is less painful than living after losing someone you love.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note:

Thank you for reading!! I'm sorry you had to endure the Henry and Sam heartbreak again :(

Next Part Here! | Masterlist

#joel miller x reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x female reader #tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #romance #slow burn #tragic #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #forced proximity #forced proximity trope

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 7

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When her friend doesn’t show up to an outing, Y/n is prompted to make a house call. But when the past comes to get back at them, she has to wonder: is she really capable of moving on?

IMPORTANT: Instead of having the huge warning paragraph here, for this chapter I want to put a little note in. This chapter of Moving On is a lot heavier and quite graphic. Mind the warnings. I will link a summary of the chapter above the series Masterlist link. It will not be an alternate chapter, but rather a summary of what happened in this chapter, without the details. Stay safe and mind your triggers.

Warnings: heavily implied potential suicide, breaking and entering, graphic depictions of gore, guilt, depression, background stucky, violence, crying, scars, yelling, discussions of: phantom limb pain, NON-GRAPHIC past sexual abuse (including assault), cults, suicidal ideation, car crashes, hospitals, funerals, death, past abuse (physical, emotional, it’s HYDRA, y’know?), and there's a slight part where it's implied that the reader is a lesbian but it's easy to ignore.

[ALT/Summary]

🌻 Series Masterlist 🌻

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𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

“Hey guys!” You smile as you find your newfound friend group standing together outside the cafe.

They all greet you joyfully as you go to stand beside Wanda.

“The only person we’re waiting on is Bucky.” Thor notes.

“He doesn’t live that far away. He should be here by now.” Sam frowns.

“Call him?” You suggest. Sam pulls out his phone, holding it up to his ear.

“Nothing.” He murmurs.

Thor tries. Bucky doesn’t pick up.

Wanda calls, and Bucky doesn’t answer.

You try, and he doesn’t answer your call either.

Clint tries, and Bucky picks up on the second ring.

Sam rolls his eyes, and you and Wanda look at each other, smiling slightly.

“Hey, where are you, man?” Clint asks. You can’t hear what Bucky’s saying. “Okay, well..take care, then.” Clint lowers the phone from his ear, frowning slightly.

“Where is he?” Wanda questions.

“He’s at home. He didn’t really elaborate. I think he’s having a bit of a rough day.” Clint explains.

“And Steve’s out of town,” Wanda murmurs.

Sam nods at her. “Exactly.” He thinks for a moment.

Clint seemingly comes up with a plan. “Does anybody have their address? They live together, right?”

“Yeah. I have it. I don’t think he’d really wanna talk to any of us—besides, I know that I personally am not experienced in how to get through that kind of thing in a healthy way.” Sam replied.

“Me neither. I’m not the best with comforting others, so..” Clint shrugged.

“I doubt he’d feel comfortable with myself. I think it’d be best if one of you helped him.” Thor explained.

Wanda looked at you. And then everyone else looked at you, too.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Send me his address.”

The apartment wasn’t too far away, and you were able to ride the elevator to the sixth floor.

It wasn’t hard finding Bucky and Steve’s apartment, considering Sam had given you his apartment number.

You knocked on the door. Once. Then twice. And then again a third time.

“Bucky?” You said, at a normal volume. You didn’t want to bother any of his neighbors. You called his name again, slightly louder this time. And then you began to worry. How could you guarantee that he was okay? He could’ve fell in the shower or something. Choked on food while he was home alone. Fuck, he could’ve hurt himself.

That thought sent you into a real panic, and you knocked rapidly on the door. Once more, he didn’t answer.

You placed your hand on the door handle. You weren’t usually the type to commit breaking and entering, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Though, how suspicious would it look to break the lock on his door? You’d never been to his apartment, anyone who looked in the hall wouldn’t recognize you.

But now was not the time to think about all that. You expected to have to force the door open, to sacrifice your shoulder to bust down the door. It would make an obnoxiously loud sound and would probably send the neighbors running out into the hallway to see what the hell was going on. And when you opened the door…

…it opened without any problems. You swung the door open, managing to stop it before it hit the wall. Looking into the apartment, you took in the decor. A comfy couch in the living room area, a nice kitchen, a few picture frames hung on the walls here and there. All Steve’s work, you were sure of it.

“Bucky?” You close the door softly behind you. Creeping through the apartment, you find there is no Bucky in sight.

You approached a closed door, which you assumed was a bedroom door. You knocked. “Bucky? If you’re okay just say something. Literally anything, please.”

Your eyes watered when you received no answer. When you open the door, what are you going to find? You weren’t going to be ready to find a corpse. That’s what you were sure of. But what if he was just asleep? That was a possibility.

You opened the door.

You immediately saw him. Or, the outline of him. He was curled up in a blanket, still in bed. You could see him breathing, his torso moving slightly with every breath.

“Bucky?” You whispered.

“Mm.” He answered back.

“It’s 1:54 in the afternoon. We were gonna meet up for lunch, what happened?”

He shrugs in response.

“Clint let you know I was coming, yeah?”

He nods, his back facing you. He doesn't turn to face you, and you shift awkwardly.

"He said you were having a bit of a rough day. Are you sick? Or is more of an..inside thing?"

He says nothing, and you frown. You look towards the curtains, a soft and gentle blue. Steve's favorite color, you remembered.

You hear a soft sniffle come from the bed.

"Are you..crying?"

"No," he disagreed, but you could hear the sadness in his voice.

"It's okay if you are," you stated. "You don't have to hide it."

"This fucking sucks," he laughed, and you could imagine a few more tears spilling down his face. "I mean, I feel like shit. I haven't left my apartment in days, my arm fucking hurts, and I can't even get out of fucking bed." He begins to laugh at the end, as if he's fed up.

You didn't really know what to say. What would Sharon do? Probably send a motivational instagram video, you thought. It made you smile slightly, but you pushed the thought away. Now's not the time.

"Where's Steve?" You asked softly.

"Lehigh, New Jersey. It's a small town, he's visiting a friend, Peggy."

"Have you thought about calling him? He's your roommate and your best friend, right?" You assumed that Steve normally helped Bucky get through his bad days.

"Boyfriend, actually." He sniffled.

"Wait, what? Since when?"

"Since three days ago," he chuckled.

"That's awesome, man." You smiled, stepping a few inches closer.

He nods, rolling over to face you. His face is puffy, his eyes a bit red from crying. The blanket slides down a bit, revealing his scarred chest. You notice the absence of his left arm and the scarring around his shoulder, but you don't dwell on it. Bringing your eyes quickly back to his face, his small expression reveals that he's grateful for this.

"When's Steve coming home?"

"Tomorrow. Around suppertime. He left three days ago, so." He said quietly.

"You should come stay with me. Just for tonight. It'll get you out of the house, and it might make you feel a little better."

"I don't wanna be a bother. You know, more than I'm already being."

"You're not a burden. You're having a rough time, and that's okay, it's human. C'mon, I've got a guest room. You're never too old for a sleepover."

"What, are we gonna paint each other's toenails?"

You gave him a goofy grin. "Damn right. And we'll talk all about boys or something." You laugh, and he does too.

“Hey. C’mon, I’m serious.” You say earnestly after a moment, shoving your hands in your pockets. “S’not just for you. I get lonely.” You make it sound like a joke, but deep down both of you know it’s true.

He nods after a second.

“I’ll be in the living room, yeah? So you can pack up and get ready or whatever you wanna do.” You began to make your way towards the door, and he nodded again, a silent ‘thank you’.

You sat on the couch, which was a light tan color. It was a pretty nice couch.

Bucky came out twenty minutes later, his hair wet and pulled back into a half-up half-down hair style. He wore a black hoodie and some black jeans, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

You smiled warmly, wolf-whistling for dramatic effect. “Lookin’ good Barnes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head, but he couldn’t hide his smile.

When you got to your place, the two of you grabbed a beer, plopping down in front of the couch.

“Do..you wanna talk about it?”

“I mean, it was just memories coming up, paired with phantom limb pain.” He explained.

“Drink. You know, if you want. It just seems like a ‘drink-and-talk’ kind of night.”

He took a sip of his beer, and you took a sip of your own.

“I was in the military until, well, you know.” He gestured to his prosthetic. “And then I accidentally joined a cult.”

You blinked, waiting for him to explain further.

“I guess they manipulated me or whatever, but I still fell for it. They were…weird. Always talking about ‘Insight’ and other propaganda. It was just..dumb. I just..needed something to belong to, I guess. They ended up giving me the first prosthetic I ever had. Not this one—this one’s much less…invasive.”

You nod, not sure if there was anything else you could say.

“They had their version of the electric chair. If you didn’t…do what they wanted you to do, they’d uh, punish you. Public whippings, the goddamn chair, more…graphic things. I was the newest member, shit always landed on me. One of the uh, higher ups, had a sex drive bigger than my will to live. Never a fun day for me.” Bucky said, shrugging as if trying to hide how it affected him.

“Then Steve reached out. Kept reaching out, that stubborn son of a bitch." Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Got me out of that situation. And then, well, here I am." He looked down at his hand, rubbing his pointer finger against his thumb. “My uh..sister and parents passed away while I was gone. Car crashes suck ass.”

You huffed a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

He glanced to the photo hanging on the wall. “Is…is that..?”

“Oh—yeah. Uh—it’s—well, y’know, it’s—uhm—yeah. It’s—yeah.” You sputtered.

Deciding that it was awkward if you didn’t say something else, you spoke up. "So...you and Steve, huh?"

Bucky rolled his eyes, grinning. "Yeah-huh."

"How'd you know? That..that you liked him?" You asked, and you were sure that you both knew there was more to this question besides your curiosity about Bucky's love life.

"I guess I didn't. I mean, we've known each other since we were real young, y'know. So I guess it was jus' always kinda that way."

"And..how'd you know he liked you back?" A certain woman popped into your mind, with her large doe-like green eyes and soft red hair.

"Cause he looked at me like there was somethin' worth lookin' at." Bucky drawled, making eye-contact with you. You were positive he was being earnest, based on his tone and overall demeanor.

Did Wanda look at you like that? Did you look at her like that?

“Huh,” you mumbled, nodding. You hoped he couldn’t tell what you were thinking. Somehow, deep inside you, you knew he could.

“So,” he took a sip of beer. “You and Wanda, eh?”

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“But seriously! You gotta tell me. Queer to queer, c’mon.” He nudged you with his elbow.

“Okay.” You sigh. “We went to a sunflower field together and ate sunflower-themed baked goods. At the end we called it a date, but I don’t know if that was meant to be romantic or not.”

“Oh. That’s…ambiguous.”

“Tell me about it.” You let out a breath, leaning your head back against the couch.

“But it was totally meant to be romantic. Very homo.”

“What?” You looked at him, but he seemed dead serious.

“Have you seen the way she looks at you? She looks so goddamn happy. And sure, she looks pleasant all the time, but not in the same way. It’s different.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. You looked at him. “I just…I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I like her. I mean, I think I do. But I can’t tell if I like her or if I like how she reminds me a little of Nat.”

He stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I'm not..trying to find another Natasha--that's...weird. I mean, they're super different. Natasha was older than me, just by two years. And Wanda's a year younger. She's more..bubbly. Like, the best way I can describe it is that Natasha's a deep red, and Wanda's a light pink. Just in like, vibes." You tried to explain. "Sorry, I probably sound crazy."

"No, it makes sense. Wait..what color are my vibes?" He chuckled, but you could tell he wasn't making fun of you.

"Mm...silver. And red. With hints of a greenish-yellow, like old-timey lighting."

"Huh." He nodded.

After a few more minutes, you both departed to your separate rooms. Bucky to the guest room, and you to your bedroom, as per usual. You fell asleep quicker than usual, but whether that was due to the alcohol or due to the comfort of having someone else in the apartment, you weren't sure.

You awoke to the sound of glass shattering. Immediately, you were confused. Had Bucky gotten up to get a drink and dropped a glass? Had something fell?

Though you were tired, you wanted to make sure nothing important was damaged. That included Bucky being hurt.

You pulled yourself out of bed, slowly creeping out of your bedroom. The layout of your apartment was simple. No hallways, minus the tiny one that lead to the bathroom. You surveyed the dark living room, immediately finding the source of the noise.

Your window had been smashed. And in your living room, a few feet from the couch you’d just been sitting against, was a figure. Not Bucky, you were positive. From what you could see, the figure was wearing all black, and sported the unmistakable curves of a woman.

Your blood ran cold, your legs locking up, keeping you in place. Your mouth went dry, and you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You screamed, hoping that doing so would potentially let someone know that you needed help. And, worse case scenario, that you were murdered. That you didn’t do it yourself. That you wanted to live.

The figure rushed toward you, shoving you to the ground before pinning you there. She slammed a hand over your mouth as you writhed under her. You let out muffled screams and mangled growls, not wanting to go without a fight.

“What the hell?” Bucky walked out into the living room, wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing before, minus the fact that he’d changed from a hoodie to a t-shirt. The absence of his left arm was much more noticeable now.

He quickly peered over the couch, his eyes widening in fear as he found you. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, immediately racing for you. You’d forgotten about his military days; the ones that had clearly set him up with a faster speed and a stronger body.

He ripped the woman off of you, and she let out an animalistic shriek in protest. They wrestled for a moment, before she slammed her boot against his face. He groaned, backing up. She ignored him, beginning to stumble toward you. You got a clear look at her this time. She was wearing a black mask, one built similar to one you’d see a surgeon wear.

She dashed at you again, but this time you were more prepared. You grabbed anywhere you could—her hair, her neck, her ears—and the two of you tussled for a few moments. You grabbed her mask, ripping it off her face and shoving her backward as you stumbled in the opposite direction.

Bucky was clutching at his bloody nose, and you resisted the urge to gag at the red stain that covered the front of his shirt, going from just under the neckline to his chest. You’d seen blood before; you were a woman, and it’d be a real inconvenience to be scared of blood. But the scenario only made your uneasiness worse.

You stared at your attacker’s revealed face, before it dawned on you.

“Yelena?”

She glared at you, chest heaving as she was out of breath. You were sure that you didn’t look any better.

“Why the hell are you here?” You stressed, brows furrowing.

“You know what you did. And now I’m going to kill you for it.” She brandished a knife from her pocket, twisting it around in her fingers.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Yelena, I haven’t seen you since—since—“

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Ms. L/n? I'm calling from Westview Hospital."

“—since you left me to find my sister dead? Since you left my parents to find their oldest daughter with her face half melted off? Since then, Y/n? What, did you think we just wouldn’t find out?” Her voice steadily rose in volume.

"She was in a car accident, ma'am." Dr. Christine Palmer told you. "We had her in surgery--Dr. Strange and I operated on her ourselves. She's unstable, but there's a chance she'll pull through. We just have to hope for the best."

Natasha, your beloved Natasha, was sitting in a hospital bed. She was unconscious, and you wondered if that was for the best. The skin on her face was burned, stitched up but still seemingly melting.

Dr. Palmer left the room, leaving you alone with her. You sobbed for what felt like decades, before you realized that her family hadn't been alerted. That was up to you. And that only broke you more.

“You don’t understand! I couldn’t—I just—“

You'd ran. It was true, you had run. You'd scribbled Yelena's phone number on the tiny notepad in Nat's hospital room before you raced out. You didn't know what else to do.

“No, you don’t understand! You’re a fucking coward, you sick son of a bitch! You couldn’t even face us after what you did! You didn’t even show up to her funeral!” She shrieked, and then everything went quiet.

You hadn't gone. That was also true. You couldn't bear to show your face after the whole hospital incident. And that wasn't to say that you'd never been to her grave, or that you hadn't left flowers and other small trinkets, because you'd done those things. But you hadn't been there to grieve with the rest of her family. Sometimes you regretted it, other times you pushed the thought away before you could dwell on it.

Bucky had gone; you had no real defense against her anymore. He’d most likely went off to the bathroom to avoid bleeding on the kitchen floor.

“…You don’t get it.” You muttered.

“I bet you don’t even care! You’ve already got some random fucking guy you’re sleeping with!” She shouted at you. “You never loved her! Say it!” Her eyes watered, and you could hear her sadness seep through her voice.

"I did love her! I loved her with everything I had!" You felt your own eyes water as your throat burned.

"Then why did you run away?"

You didn't have an answer to that. Not really. She let out a quiet sob, turning her head to look away from you.

"Because I was scared, Yelena. I didn't know what else to do--I wanted to call you. I wanted to be there, I wanted to reach out, but I was scared. And I've regretted it every day." You pant, tears streaming down your face. “Yelena, I was going to marry her. I’d already bought the ring.”

“You’re pathetic.” She gasped, crying softly. “You’re so pathetic.”

You gave her a nod. “I know.”

“She would’ve never said yes.” She wept bitterly. You both know that that’s not true.

“She already had,” you admitted.

“Ask me later, you goof. You know what I’ll say. But I want you to ask.” Natasha smiled one Sunday morning in the middle of summer. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do.” You grinned. “What kind of ring are you thinking?” You watched her clean the dishes.

“Whatever you’ve already got. You’re not very sneaky, Y/n.” She chuckled. You wrapped your arms around her waist, your chin resting on her shoulder. “But I’d let you propose to me with a ring pop. Not many people get that chance, y’know.”

“I am proud to be blessed with that honor. Now, you want blue raspberry or berry blast?” You teased.

“Why would she spend her life with you? Why do you deserve it?” She sniffled.

“I don’t.” You let the tears pour from your eyes.

“She died because you let her.” Yelena blamed you.

“I fought for her to quit that stupid fucking job. She hated it.” You remembered how much she’d assure you of that fact. But she had friends at her job. She couldn’t just leave them behind. “I fought for that. But she was better at arguing than me. She was better.” You nodded to yourself, resisting the urge to sob hysterically.

“You should’ve fought harder.” Yelena growled.

Without thinking, you let out a whistle just as it seemed she was about to rush and stab you.

“…She…she told you about that?” Yelena stopped.

“Me and Yelena would do it when we were kids. We used to pretend we were spies, and that was our ‘signal’. Then it just kinda became a hello-goodbye thing.” Natasha played with your hair as you laid on her chest. With her other hand, she fiddled with the sheets. “She told me that when she moved away to college, the only thing she could think about was leaving you. She loved you, Yelena. That never changed. She loved you.”

Yelena sobbed. She lowered herself to the ground, too overwhelmed with grief to keep standing. “You got to spend so much time with her.”

“I know.” You nodded, crying yourself. You stepped closer to her, kneeling beside her before wrapping your arms around her.

“It shouldn’t have happened this way,” she lets out a shaky breath. “If I had been there, I could’ve changed it—I could’ve fixed it, I could’ve—“

“Nobody could’ve stopped her. She’d go to work in eight feet of snow with nothing but roller blades to get her there. You know Natasha.” You cut her off.

"I loved her. I loved her so much." She cries.

"I know. We all did." You rubbed her back soothingly. She sobs in your arms. You hold her tightly.

“Goodbye, Y/n L/n.” She whispered after a moment, standing and retreating towards the door.

“Goodbye, Yelena.”

Goodbye, Natasha.

“Fuck, my window’s still broken.”

A/n: bit of a long chapter, eh? Also, just in case you haven’t seen it yet: I’ve got the moving on playlist (Spotify) and the moving on Pinterest board!

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #Moving on

[the-rebellious-gege]

Can we pls get more dark Mikey? As in—fucked up, impulsive, inconsolable, uncaring, rageful Mikey? I get that babygurl Mikey is cute, and endearing…but like that’s not really the whole picture, is it? I’m the last person to gate keep a character, by all means do whatever makes you happy—I mean that sincerely. Write what you wanna write. Read what you wanna read. But it’s so hard to find good dark Mikey content. Everyone wants to see cute kid Mikey with the messy blonde mop dragging his little blanket around. But where’s Manila Mikey that murdered his friends? Where’s soulless Bonten Mikey, with his suicidal ideations and heart of stone? And I don’t wanna justify his behaviors, I want to see this hollow-eyed killer in all his disturbing glory and not excuse it. Or blame it on circumstances, loss, or other people. It’s monstrous, it’s beautiful, it’s hella fucked up, but it’s real. Just like…damn, tell me more about him. And pls don’t sugarcoat it. I want it to fucking hurt.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tok rev #mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers mikey #tokrev mikey #mikey tokrev #manjirou sano #sano manjiro #manila mikey #bonten mikey #tokrev manjiro #tokyo revengers manga #tokrev manga #tokrev anime #tokyo revengers anime #tokrev angst #tokrev sad #nonsense

[pencileraser1]

pencil eraser one. you word your long posts about dps very well so im pointing my frustration with media-ly illiterate people in your direction. im constantly seething with rage at this podcast episode i listened to a very long time ago abt dps bc they said neils suicide was STUPID and OVERDRAMATIC. and i just. i wanna throw up that boy killed himself and ur calling himnoverdramatic what do i even do. i am high a little and this is very much affecting me i cant get up from this couch 🎀

you're completely correct for this i actually have a few thoughts about this so uh bear with me for a second

theres something that sucks so much about this specific type of criticism of this movie in particular to me because of how much i relate to neil. i watched dps for the first time when i was 17, severely depressed and borderline suicidal and i related So Much to him. i didn't write off his suicide or criticize it because i'd Been There.

generally i feel like this criticism probably stems from lack of understanding Why he would do what he did, and there's a number of reasons that that this could be although that would be leaning a bit too much into psychoanalysis and assuming things i don't know about them so i'm not going to go into it really

up until it happens, neil seems like he's doing mostly okay, and particularly if you haven't seen the movie before i could see how to certain people his suicide might seem overdramatic since it's a bit of a sudden shift from mostly okay to suicidal. but the thing is that up until this point, neil has just been doing a very good job at hiding that something is wrong.

my interpretation of the movie has always been that he'd struggled with some form of depression as well as dealing with some amount of suicidal ideation before the movie and had just generally been good at masking it. during the events of the movie he is the happiest he has ever been because of the combination of the poets, acting, and keating. so when at the end of the play his father suddenly takes away all three, and his options are either to confront his father (something that he feels is impossible to do- even if it technically isn't, the fear he has surrounding it of his father listening but not caring, or making things worse than the are, or anything else, prevents him from doing it) or suffer through 10 years of medical school away from anything he actually cares about, he decides to remove himself from the situation entirely instead.

(theres something about the way his suicide is framed within the movie where in some fucked up way his suicide more than anything else is his carpe diem. he's seizing control of his life in the only way he is physically capable of anymore)

neil's suicide isn't rational but that doesn't mean it doesn't make sense or that he's overdramatic. just because logically waiting out the 10 years until he's away from his dad or leaving as soon as he graduates high school or turns 18 or whatever it is is a better option doesn't mean that 1. he'd have the idea to run away early or more importantly think it doable (he tries so hard to not directly disobey his father the whole movie and after doing it one time is now stuck in This situation, additionally, while this is the 50's and in general shit costed less/jobs were easier to get/etc. he is financially dependent on his father and running away without any support is not the smartest decision) and 2. that he'd be physically capable of enduring the 10 years. because 10 years is a long time Especially if it's 10 years studying to become a doctor, something that is both generally difficult and also something he Doesn't Want To Do. and so the sudden switch from happiest time of his life to suicidal throws people off and they don't understand why he wouldn't have done any of the other options that they thing are the logical ones but to him probably didn't seem physically possible.

#neil perry #dps #tw suicide #this might just be nonsense sorry #hopefully coherent

[analytical-rant]

ZERO DAY RANT. 002 TW: SEE TO THE MOVIES CONTENTS BEFORE READING. I WILL BE DISCUSSING THE IMPORTANT BUT TRIGGERING ASPECTS OF THIS MOVIE.

Cal was metaphoric, poetic in his views and morality. And he didn't wanna live.

Andre was angry, lonely, and wanted nothing more than to die for what he wanted to prove.

They're so different, and yet they understand each other. They're problems both strayed from the same place, they felt an absence of purpose. So they created one for themselves, and they died for it man. They died by each other. It's obvious anyone wouldn't ever reason with what they were thinking or doing, because they killed these men and women. They killed people with lives, and even in the end revenge is still preserved. It's this act of revenge that spiked another.

Revenge in this movie, is just seen to be drawn out further in the end. Even after what they did. stuff rooted from it, these kids saw this act of burning their graves as rightful. But do they not understand this was the same delusion, same hate that created this cause? They are the same violence, with different extents. They do not see the cry that was in their ends, but who would when it was after a laugh. They are immoral, they are horrible. But they were never given a chance, they were the reason to each other that either saw to this plan at all. They are the Army of two. This movie's point is to prevent what they did. To prevent who can become what they have. You can't get help unless you seek it, and you can't let problems happen till they get to a dangerous point. If there's a problem, if there's an effect to someone's well being, you can never know if it's capable of something bigger. What it can lead to, and no one deserves to live life with the purpose to end it. No one is truly a monster, no one is the bad guy, no one is the good guy. We're all fucking humans. But if we feed into others ideation, if we're influenced by others ideation we can become horrible. We can become blind, and corrupted. Everything is conceptual, everything is a word and a thing to be thought about. We have so much in life that tears us, that makes us happy. Sometimes we don't understand our own emotions, or actions. So how could Cal and Andre? It took two people to tell each other it was reasonable, it was rightful. It took two suicidal, ill children disturbed in their own ways to give each other enough comfort to have the courage to kill themselves and others. It proves you can be hurt by the wrong crowd, but yet only understood by them. You want to be understood, you don't want to be alone. But sometimes those aspects don't make you realize what your doing shouldn't happen. Morality, its so fucking flexible if your part of the wrong crowd, or driven to a wrong point. But really it isn't morality that drives someone to murder, its desire, or hate. And hate can be in morality, it can make something feel right. You hate robbers, because what they do isn't right. Andre hated this school, because what it does to him isn't right. But how Andre handled dealing with it was horrible, it was clear he was in a mindset unhealthy, and being friends with Cal only enabled it. Andre only enabled Cal. Zero day isn't a slasher movie, it isn't a true crime. It sheds light on these problems, it makes you think. It makes you understand, to try to prevent. Because these people came from simple name calling. So hey, one. Don't call someone an idiot, communicate. We don't know if someone's mentally disturbed, and why even call someone an idiot in the first place? That isn't education, it's blatant harm. And if this 'idiot' is causing it themselves from words or action, its counterproductive. You're being a hypocrite. And it'll only be getting anger out of them which just causes either spite or ignorance so then you get nowhere. I mean, if there's ignorance either way, then sometimes it's better left to professional help. And two, it just tells you to seek this help yourself. No matter how horribly or subtly ill, it's better than starting from something capable of causing harm to yourself or others. Zero Day is just something fake, but real. In all honesty, like any other it's how you find something out of this movie, whether bad or good. It just feels like a test. It was never made to encourage, but prevent. But people are capable of either, and that in itself is the test. To see if you're capable of reasoning, and understanding what's really to blame. And simply, no one. Your story is dependent on your actions, on what you do to help yourself. And killing or suicide is never an option. Movies can be for hope, for reasoning and awareness. This movie is anything, but to be encouraging. It's meant to make you more thoughtful, to find points and reason from this and everything else. It wasn't made for shock culture, it's more than that. PT.1 PT.3

#zero day 2003 #zero day #cal gabriel #andre kriegman

[billys-pretty-babe]

Would It Be Better

Pairing : Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary : Billy's girlfriend struggles a lot with her mental health and he feels like he can't do anything for her but just hold her and tell her she'll be okay.

Warnings : Depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, mentions of past self-harm (cutting), brief mention of a failed suicide attempt (overdose), Billy cries a little, swearing, angst, fluff at the end

Word count : 838 words

A/N : This piece is dealing with many heavy topics that I have been dealing with for the past nearly four months. Please, please, please read the warnings because many of them are triggering and I will completely understand if you skip this. Don't be afraid to reach out if you need help. OOC!Billy.

He didn't know what to do. His heart raced, his brain pounded against his skull, his palms began to sweat. He heard the comment she made today in class, she whispered it under her breath but still he heard it.

"Maybe it would be better if I just left forever."

Now he sat in her room, her face looked lifeless, her eyes lost all light and it pained him, he swore his heart was going to stop. "Baby," he quietly said, "I want to help you but you gotta tell me what's going on." She sniffled and wiped her face, her hands covered by the red lifeguard hoodie that she adorned, the red lifeguard hoodie that she stole from him months prior during the summer, claiming he didn't need it.

"B, it's too hot for a hoodie. You don't need it right now."

His closet never saw the hoodie again. the hanger now had no purpose, just like how his girlfriend felt, purposeless, hopeless, worthless. "It h-hurts," she stuttered out, her breath trying not to catch in her throat. "What hurts, baby? Can you tell me?" She patted her chest twice and he wasn't sure if it was because she was crying or if an anxiety attack was going to start.

Billy moved closer to her, sitting on the edge of her bed and she reached for his hand and he let her take it as she squeezed it tightly, trying to reassure herself that he was indeed there with her. "Are you getting bad again," he softly asked and she nodded, not wanting to break down in front of him, she had to be strong, she had to be.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She shrugged, her breath choppy as she tried to inhale. "Didn't want to bu-burden you." He shook his head, "No, there's another reason, tell me what it is." She shook her head, her hands fidgeting and Billy caught it. "Are you cutting again?" She shook her head, "No."

"Can I see?" She nodded, putting her arms out and Billy rolled the sleeves up, her arms clean besides the fading scars that she made months ago, when he first found out about her depression. He fixed the sleeves, kissing her hands gently as he held them. "Tell me what's going on. I'm not gonna get upset, okay? It's not good to keep your stuff bottled up." She nodded and breathed, trying to calm herself down.

"I wanna die," she softly said, trying to make her voice soft enough that he wouldn't hear it but he did and his heart stopped and his stomach dropped. The same feeling he gets on rollercoasters and he hates rollercoasters, seen final destination too many times. "I feel so worthless and so useless, like I shouldn't be here." Billy squeezed her hand, letting her talk. "When did you start thinking like this?" She shrugged, "Last night."

Billy nodded, "Did you plan on," he had to stop himself, his throat was tightening at the thought of burying his girlfriend and he cleared his throat, "did you plan on doing it?" Seconds went by and no response, "I don't know," her voice was weak, ready to give up. "It's just too much, Billy and I don't know if I can keep going." Billy bit his lip, trying not to cry, he couldn't cry in front of her now.

"And I love you, I love you so much, B but it just hurts so fucking badly," she was breaking in front of him, everything crumbling before him. "Do you remember what I told you after you tried to take those pills?" She nodded, not looking at him before speaking, "You go, I go." Billy nodded, "Exactly because goddamnit, I can't fucking do this without you. I know it's hard but baby, I'm here, okay?"

He paused for a moment, his vision blurred with his tears as a few fell onto their connected hands. "I know it's hard to talk about this stuff but I'm not going to bury my fucking girlfriend all because I couldn't save her, do you understand?" She nodded and fell into his chest, her body shaking as she cried and Billy held her tightly because now he knew that she could slip through his grasp.

"I love you and I need you here with me. We can get you help but you have to be honest, you can't sugarcoat like you usually do." She nodded against his chest and Billy kissed the top of her head, holding her head tightly to his chest so she could listen to his heartbeat, how it beats for her. He rubbed her back with his other hand, letting her cry against him as he put his head on hers and cried with her.

They held each other tightly, too afraid to let go of each other but they knew she would get the help she needed and Billy knew that everything would be okay, whenever she decided that it would be okay.

#billy hargrove x f!reader #female reader #fem!reader #billy-eddie-steve-babygirl angst #billy-eddie-steve-babygirl loves soft!Billy #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x female reader #billy antis dni #billy hargrove antis dni