#anyway. no context once again if you know you know if you don’t. don’t worry about it

[crowcryptid]

sleep deprivation 200 mph gaming had me acting most unwise last night

This was not from last night but it proves that I am not to be trusted. Liar. ⬇️

Authors note: the tags of this post were written at around 4 AM but in my wisest judgment I did not post but upon review it’s not as bad as I thought. You are once again saved by my inability to put thought into words.

Hey staff new feature idea where you can set a ‘no post’ timezone and anything you do just gets saved to drafts instead

*Staff proceeds to add a $20 set of tumblr exclusive emojis that completely break the tagging system* <- prediction

[nevadancitizen]

-> TO LIVE ANOTHER DAY (I KNOW I NEVER WILL)

synopsis: you've always known that you're a throwaway -- another friendly kill. but when you're brought to ghost's world, you discover that there's so much more to life than defending democracy.

word count: 5.1k

characters: player! simon "ghost" riley, self-aware helldiver! reader

trigger warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence, reader is obsessed with and idolizes ghost, nudity (but not in a sexual/suggestive context)

notes: wanted to try my hand at a reverse version of the self-aware cod au. also if you're not aquantinced with helldivers 2, it's okay! it has easy-to-understand lore but i recommend watching this lore video (it's just under twelve minutes and gives a pretty good run-down on what's going on). also inspired by "to liberty and beyond" by jt music, which is inspired by helldivers 2 in turn (✿˵•́ ૩•̀˵)৴♡*

You always knew something was… off. 

Numerous ads and training modules state that every Helldiver is valuable to the continued reign of Managed Democracy and Super Earth. And yes, you’ve seen more than enough shock soldiers die for the cause – mostly freshly eighteen-year-olds that didn’t read the fine print that states that the minimum enlistment for a Helldiver is ten years. 

But that’s the thing. They died. You watched their bodies be ripped apart by bullets or torn to shreds by terminids. 

You never… died. Not really, anyway. 

It was always a split second of hot-white, searing pain, then a moment of darkness, then you were strapped into a hellpod, being sent down for another wave. Mentions of gods or other types of divine beings weren’t really heard of or taught about, so you didn’t know who to thank – or to blame – for this phenomenon. 

(You tried to mention this to your assigned Democracy Officer, but she just dismissed it with a threat of being sent to a Reeducation Camp.)

So you kept it to yourself. You have a habit of taking your helmet off and bowing your head (In prayer? You’re not so sure) and just breathing, taking in the cool thrum of your heart. You never thought you’d relate to the fascism-fueled automatons, but you only feel the warmth of… your God? your savior? when in the heat of battle.

You always think like this in between being sent down – wandering thoughts while wandering the halls of the ship. There’s not a lot of this type of time, so you make sure to savor it.

You’re in this position right now, looking down at your helmet and thumbing over the imperfections picked up from battle. The void-black visor shows a reflection of you, warped and stretched-out. Above the visor is a skull etched into the titanium – the lines are all jagged edges and uneven depths. You don’t remember doing this, but it’s there anyway. You don’t remember a lot, actually, but you’re, once again, told by your Democracy Officer not to worry about that.

You pick yourself up from that train of thought before you go too far. Instead, you put your helmet back on and start to walk the halls of the ship. 

Once you’re past the armory and terminal, you start down the steps to the sleeping quarters. (Because yes, despite being supersoldiers, Helldivers need their rest, too.) 

But then, you snipe something out of the corner of your eye. There’s… a door. A door you don’t remember being there. Light seeps through the small gap where the bottom of the door and the floor don’t meet. The sight causes the ashes in your belly that have gone cold to stir once more.

Your boots clunk on the ground as you walk over to it. It creaks open, as if inviting you. Again, you never remember having wooden doors that creak on the ship – they’re all automatic sliding metal doors, and open with faint hisses.

You push it open the rest of the way and die.

It’s that all-consuming pain that feels worse than any other time you’ve died – like your skin is being torn off the same time you’re being tarred and feathered. The black isn’t just a flash this time, but a few seconds you can actually count – twelve seconds. Twelve whole seconds. 

Twelve seconds doesn’t sound like a lot, but for you, it was fucking terrifying. 

You thought you actually died. It was almost laughable – you’ve survived automatons and terminids and being in cryo, but you couldn’t survive some mystery door? And all that effort without meeting your… you don’t even know what to call it. Guardian angel? Tormentor?

You wake up and, for the first time, aren’t in a hellpod – instead, you’re in a bed. You can move your arms and legs freely, but they feel… numb. Disconnected. 

When you start to look around, you notice everything is white and sterile. There’s a distinct sharp scent of disinfectant in the air, contrasting the musky gun oil and sweat that you know well. 

(You haven’t ever been in a real hospital – the closest is a small supply closet on-ship that was converted into a first aid station – but you’re pretty sure this is an actual hospital, like the ones back home on Super Earth.)

Your uniform is set on a chair nearby, your black-and-yellow cape draped over the back of it. Your helmet is on the cushion of the seat, facing you. Every piece is… oddly clean. There’s no dark brown dried bloodstains or sickly green bug oil.

With shaky hands (which have never trembled before – at least, not to this degree) you rip out the IV and brace yourself on the railing of the bed before standing. Your legs wobble a bit, but straighten themselves out after a moment. 

You take off the paper hospital gown and dress yourself in proper clothing. All the metal parts of your uniform click into place, and your under-armor fits like it always does – perfectly flush to your skin. 

Just as you’re about to push open the door, a man opens it. You’re stunned for a second before taking him in. He’s tall with a beard that looks like walrus tusks, and is wearing military fatigues you’ve seen in history modules. 

Looking at him causes a dull thrum in your chest, like your heart is picking up again. But it’s not him – he’s not your savior.

“Civilian,” you greet before pushing past him. You wave over your shoulder politely. “Praise be Democracy.”

The man makes a stunned noise before grabbing your shoulder and spinning you to face him. He opens his mouth to talk, but you interrupt him by holding a hand up. 

“Please, no touching the armor, civilian,” you say. “This is the property of the Ministry of Defense, as am I. If you wish to enlist, don’t talk to me, but the nearest Democracy Officer available.”

The man pauses for a moment before barking, “What in the bloody fuck are you on about, muppet?”

You huff out a laugh and lean closer to him. He’s tall, but with your armor, you’re taller. 

“Okay, civilian.” You smile underneath your helmet and speak in a lower tone. “I understand that you don’t see a lot of us, so if you want a signature, just ask, okay? I can make it out to your kid who wants to be a Helldiver, or whatever. Tell them to put that M2016 Constitution bolt-action rifle to good use.”

The man stares at you as if you’ve just admitted to secretly being an automaton and are planning to undermine Democracy to institute socialism. He slowly brings his hand away from your shoulder and walks past you. 

“Come with me,” he says simply. 

You follow him after a moment of contemplation. He causes a faint mimic of the warmth, so that’s good, right? And he can’t be dangerous. Maybe a danger to others, but not to you – not with all the armor you’ve got. You keep your hands clasped behind your back to keep from fidgeting as you walk.

“Firstly.” The man holds up a hand, his index finger raised. He doesn’t glance over his shoulder to look at you. “I am not a civilian. I’m a captain – Captain John Price of the SAS.”

“Nonsense,” you scoff. “A captain should always be wearing their armor. A Helldiver is always ready to fight for Democracy.”

You walk a little faster so that you’re not walking behind him, but next to him instead. “And besides, what is the SAS? I’ve never heard of that division, or that ship – whatever it is. I reside on the Dawn of Destruction.”

Price looks at you out of the corner of his eye, his thick brows furrowing. “It’s the Special Air Service. And I’ve never heard of these… Helldivers you’ve been going on about.”

“Good Liberty, that’s nonsense again!” You look over at Price, your eyes trained on him instead of in front of you. “Helldivers are all over the news, the radio sets, the televisions… surely you’re not that shut off? Every colony has some way to communicate with Super Earth.”

“Super Earth?” Price repeats back to you. He then holds up his hand and stops walking. “Nevermind. I don’t want to hear it.”

He gestures to the door he’s stopped in front of. “Go on.”

You glance at Price before opening the door. It’s an interrogation room, like the ones you’ve seen in old-timey movies. 

“Oh, I get it.” You look over your shoulder at Price. “This is like one of those war reenactments, right? You’ve recreated a military base from the original Earth… very impressive!”

Price shoves you into the room (with a surprising amount of strength), leaving you stumbling. You quickly correct yourself and spin around to confront him, but by the time you’re able to do that, he’s closed and locked the door. 

“Ah…” you sigh as you look around the room. It’s all concrete grey with a steel table and two steel chairs in the middle. There’s a mirror taking up the majority of one wall, one which you know is double-sided.

You walk up to it and try to talk to the people on the other side – you know there’s got to be someone there. “This is fun! Which training module is this? I thought I completed every one… is it new? Because I’ve never heard of something like this.”

After half a minute, there’s no response. You wander over to one of the chairs at the table and sit in it. You laugh a little as you rest your hands in the handcuffs chained to the steel.

“I am ready for interrogation!” you announce. “I sure hope no filthy fascist comes in and tries to cleanse me of the beauty of freedom! Because I surely won’t give them a cup of Liber-tea, and I of course won’t deliver it with my fist…!”

You tap your fingers on the table for a minute before slumping back in the chair. This is boring. Most training modules are the type where you’re run-and-gun-ing throughout the whole thing, but interrogation is boring. 

You’re sat like that for a good half hour before you hear the lock click. Your eyes dart to the door as it opens, revealing a man. 

He’s dressed in all black, with a balaclava covering his face. His russet-brown eyes meet yours through your helmet and it’s like you’ve died all over again. 

Heat explodes your chest like you’ve just got a shotgun slug blasted through your belly. The ashes have been blown away, and in its place, a raging bonfire! It roars like a dragon, and it reeks of reverence and prayer.

The man closes the door behind him and someone locks it from the outside. He barely makes it two steps before you stand from the chair, the legs shrieking against the floor.

“My God,” you say softly. 

“Helldiver,” the man greets.

“No, I…” You make your way around the table and stand as close as you can be without feeling like you’re about to catch fire. “Are you…?”

The man nods. “Ghost.”

“That’s it, that’s what you are!” you exclaim. You take a step forward and feel sweat drip down your back. “You’re the… the Ghost. The…”

The one who kept you from experiencing a permanent death? The one who kept you alive just to torment you? The guardian angel who watches your every move? The devil who prods at your ass with a pitchfork? You’re not sure what to say.

You settle on reaching out to him and saying, “You’re my savior.”

Ghost takes a step back. “Savior? I’m not so sure about that.”

“No, but – you are!” You breathe out a laugh and step forward, mirroring his actions. You bend at the knee and the back to make yourself shorter, as if trying to be smaller than him. “I am… I’m a throwaway. Another friendly kill. But you kept me alive! You brought me back after death, I remember dying so many times – y-you don’t get it, you’re my God!”

You strike, quick as a viper, and take his hand. Even though both your gloves and his act as barriers, it feels like your entire arm is engulfed in flame. Still, you keep holding on. 

“You chose me, right? You chose me to fight!” You clutch his hand tighter. “You chose me to spread Democracy, to smite the fascists and… I – I was taught that we are Democracy, not individuals, but you proved me wrong, because you chose me. 

“God chose me.”

A silence engulfs the interrogation room. You’re both frozen in time, living, breathing statues. It’s too hot. Every bone in your hand, wrist, and arm are turning to charcoal. It’s burning. It’s euphoric. 

Ghost starts to pull his hand away, but you bring your free hand to hold it in place, holding yours. “No, please.”

Ghost forcefully yanks his hand away. He drags you forward with the force, and you fall to your knees. The metal kneepads on your legs clang loudly against the concrete floor. 

You can do nothing but look up at Ghost from where you’re kneeling. There’s nothing sexual about it – it’s more like a believer kneeling at the feet of a statue of Christ. Ghost is your God, after all. 

There’s another minute of silence before you bow your head and reach up with shaky hands to remove your helmet. It clanks loudly against the floor as you drop it. 

You can feel Ghost staring at you. The fire burns hotter – the bonfire caught wind and is reaching up into the trees. The branches above are catching, aching to burn.

Tears rim your eyes as you bring your head up to look at him. His stare hardens.

It’s a sight you’ve seen in the mirror many times before. Your face is a mess of unloaded textures, a checkerboard of black and bright purple, with the exception of your eyes and the surrounding skin. But seeing yourself through Ghost’s eyes… 

It’s Rapture. It’s only you and him. A God and his only believer.

“Ghost, please.” A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t think you’ve ever cried before. It’s cool against your too-hot, burning skin. “Let me stay. I want to stay in Heaven, stay with you.”

“This isn’t Heaven,” Ghost says coldly. “And I’m not God.”

“But you are!” you snap. “This is peace and this is comfort and this is you. Don’t send me back to Malevelon Creek, don’t send me back to those godforsaken ion storms and automatons.”

Your voice grows quieter as tears run down your face and drip off your chin. “Don’t send me back to Hell.”

Ghost sighs and casts his gaze to the side. He’s thinking, and it’s plain on the parts of his face you can see. 

You bow your head and wipe your tears away to give him some semblance of privacy. 

“Fine,” he finally decides. “But stop calling me God. You’re starting to seriously piss me off.”

Your head snaps up and you fight back a fresh wave of tears as you nod. “Yes! I’ll – I’ll call you Ghost. No more God-talk, I promise.”

You huff out a wet laugh as you pick up your helmet and fasten it back on your head. “I mean, I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.”

And so it’s like that for a month. Ghost explains the concept of video games (and how you’re from one – but you figured out that much already), introduces you to his team (and forces you to apologize to Price for calling him a civvy), and gives you his blessing to be his guard (even though he doesn’t need one). 

He allows you to tail him around when he’s in a good mood. When he’s not up for it, you sit outside his door like the good soldier you are.

You’re not allowed to have weapons, on account of being… well. Your entire being. The flying spark that could cause a wildfire. The free radical that could split an atom. It’s just better to give you the bare minimum and keep you there.

And you’re more than happy with the bare minimum. You survive on scraps from the mess hall and the moments when Ghost can tolerate you being a little too close. 

But the week-long missions are nothing but pain for you. And yet, every time you meet him on the tarmac, he greets you with a pat on the side of your bicep and asks how you were while he was gone. Maybe he’s doing it to be polite, maybe he actually cares – you don’t know, and you’re willing to keep it that way. 

(In this instance, you’re blissful with your ignorance. Revel in it, actually.)

There’s a faint part of you that thinks that he views you as an abandoned puppy he found on the side of the road that just followed him home. You’re okay with that if it means you can keep being close to him and keep getting away with everything you’ve done so far. 

So you wait, ever so patient, outside his door. You don’t lean against the wall next to it – you’re always standing at attention, even when your back starts to ache from standing so rigid. You don’t know what to do with your hands (on account of having no rifle to hold) so you let them idly hang at your sides, fighting the reflex to fidget. 

There’s a knock from the other side of the door. A sign from Ghost, telling you that you’re welcome to come in.

You knock back with a soft, “Ghost?”

After a few seconds, there’s no response, but you can hear the lock click and unlock. 

You wait for a minute before you open the door and make sure to duck as you enter. (These doors are shorter than the ones back on your ship – they’re not built to accommodate someone wearing Helldiver armor.)

You shut the door behind you and take in Ghost’s room. It’s bare, like yours. Just a desk with a chair, a bed with military-issued bedding, and a closet with a dresser and clothes rod.

As if on instinct, you take your helmet off, leaving yourself vulnerable yet safe. As your time passed here, your skin has become less black-and-purple and more like a normal skin tone – like the color around your eyes has started to seep into the surrounding area. So far, it’s taken over your face and the column of your throat, just barely brushing past your collarbone.

Ghost moves away from where he’s facing his desk in his swivel chair. He takes you in. Takes your new skin in.

You’ve kept your armor clean, just how you both like it. But the upkeep of yourself, as a person, your new hair and new skin, your new nose and lips and beauty marks and imperfections…

Ghost points at you. “Your hair is greasy as hell.”

You comb a hand through your hair and your glove comes away with a bit of grease, just like he mentioned.

“It is.” You look up from your glove to meet his gaze. “What should I do about it?”

“Fucking hell.” Ghost rolls his eyes. “You’re asking me what you should do about it? Take a shower, knobhead.”

“Ah.” You look down at your boots. 

“Have you seriously not been bathing?” Ghost asks. 

“It, um…” You glance up at him, then back down at the floor. “It never occurred to me. Usually I don’t have to.”

“You’ve been here for a bloody month and you haven’t showered once?” he scoffs. 

You shrink into yourself, an embarrassed blush creeping across your face. 

“Christ…” Ghost mumbles. He stands from his chair and points you up-and-down. “Get out of your armor.”

“Excuse me?” A hand flies to the middle of your breastplate, as if cradling it to you like it’s the only thing keeping you decent. 

“You heard me.” Ghost moves over to the door to his bathroom and opens it, then glances over his shoulder at you. “I’m drawing a bath. And you’re going in it.”

You look down at your glove, at the thin sheen of grease covering it. “I… okay.”

Ghost goes into the bathroom to give you some semblance of privacy. You take a breath to calm yourself and exhale with a soft “Sweet Liberty…” 

You carefully lay out your metal armor on Ghost’s bed, leaving yourself in just your under-armor. It’s durable but thin, causing you to shiver as the air conditioning kicks on.

With light steps, you make your way over to the bathroom. Ghost is hunched over the side of the tub, his hands ungloved and sleeves bunched up to his elbows. One of his hands is under the running water, checking the temperature. 

You lean into the doorway and call his name softly. You only lean in a bit, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

Ghost glances over his shoulder at you, then nods at the tub. “Come on. Haven’t got all day.”

You slowly make your way in the bathroom and close the door behind you. It’s a small space, and it just makes everything all the more awkward.

“Well?” Ghost prompts. “Will you be good by yourself?”

“I mean…” You look down at the tile. “I guess.”

Ghost shuts off the faucet, then stands and wipes his hand off on a towel hanging by the bathtub. “I’m off, then.”

“But – wait,” you say softly. “How am I supposed to bathe? It’s not full yet.”

“It’s not meant to be full up,” Ghost says. “You’re acting like you’ve never taken a bath before.”

You shift on your feet, your almost-bare soles making a soft sound against the tile. Your silence tells Ghost all he needs to know.

“Come on then.” He sighs and leans back against the counter, his hands on the lip of the sink. “Strip.”

You shuffle out of your under-armor, fold it neatly, and put it on the counter. You’re nearly shaking from embarrassment, but at least it isn’t as awkward as it would be if your body wasn’t just unloaded textures. Your body below your collarbone is built well, but it’s more like a jacked doll that a kid scribbled a black and purple checkerboard on than an actual human soldier. 

Your eyes meet Ghost’s before you duck your head away in shame. 

“Come on,” he repeats. “Let’s get you washed up, yeah?”

You keep your gaze low as you tentatively dip a few fingers in the water. It’s warm, but not too hot. You slowly hook a leg over the edge of the tub and step in. It feels good – not that you have any prior bathing experiences to compare it to. 

Your knees practically buckle as you lower yourself into the water. You sit with your knees pressed up against your chest, not wanting to take up too much space even though the tub isn’t all that small. 

“Good?” Ghost asks. 

“Good,” you parrot back. 

Ghost kneels by the side of the tub. “How’s it feel? Too hot?”

“Okay.” You raise your eyes to meet his. “Feels like… when I’m near you.”

He just hums, monotone, in response. He shifts to sit more comfortably, then pats the surface of the water, sending ripples. “Lean forward.”

You do as he asks, bowing your head so that your face is close to the water. “This good?”

“Yes. I’m gonna get some water on you now.” 

You nod. Ghost cups his hand and dips it in the water before running it down your back. You gasp softly at the feeling – it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before. It’s like Ghost’s molten touch is seeping into your skin, but instead of fire, it’s a pleasant version of sunburn. 

Maybe it feels duller and better because you’ve been so exposed to Ghost over the past month that you’ve gotten used to it, like exposure therapy? And the feeling when you first touched him was just too much, too fast…

You quickly divert your thoughts away from the theoretical and into the now. Because right now, Ghost is doting on you unlike any other. 

Water runs through your hair, and Ghost threads his fingers through the strands to make sure it gets properly wet. Droplets run down your forehead and drip off your nose.

You turn your head just a little and look up at Ghost sideways. “Is this it?”

“No.” He huffs out a laugh. “There’s shampoo, then conditioner. Then you gotta wash your actual body.”

“Oh.”

There’s a moment where the only sound is Ghost gathering a bit of shampoo in his hands and rubbing them together to create a lather. He scrubs it into your hair for about a half minute before washing it out.

You break the silence as he starts to work the conditioner into your hair. “I never got to ask – the engraving on my helmet… what’s that about? I don’t remember doing it.”

“Hm?” Ghost hums. “The skull? Dead daft, ain’t you?”

“I’m… I could only parse parts of that sentence,” you say softly. “But I can tell you’re calling me an idiot.”

“Yes. I am. You’re learning.” Ghost huffs out another laugh. “Go on, guess.”

“If I have to…” You close your eyes and lean into Ghost’s touch. “It’s a representation of your control over me? As a player, I mean. Not in… anything else.” 

You let out a nervous laugh and hope Ghost doesn’t pick up on your double meaning. But of course he does – you can tell in the way his hands pause for a fraction of a second before continuing their work. He’s too observant for his own good.

With an awkward ahem, you continue. “But that’s the same reason my callsign is Deathshead, right? Because you’re Ghost. You – you gave me your insignia.”

(You had to stop yourself from saying ‘Blessed me with your insignia’, because you promised you’d stop with the God-talk.)

“Dead on.” Ghost turns and rubs a bar of soap on a sponge, then hands it to you. “Scrub yourself. I’m not doing it for you.”

“Where?” you ask. “Like, all over?”

Ghost washes the conditioner from his hands in the bathwater and nods. “Mhm.”

You carefully scrub yourself from top to bottom. The sponge is a bit abrasive, but nice. 

(You’d much rather have Ghost wash you up, to cause the fire you’ve contained in a little wooden stove to flare out of the firebox and through the grill… but you keep that to yourself.)

Once you’re done, you wring the sponge out under the bathwater, then above water. You set it on the side of the tub and look up at Ghost, waiting for instructions. 

He meets your gaze and shifts where he’s sitting on the toilet lid. “Just relax, Helldiver.”

“Not used to this.” You pull your knees up to your chest. “Not used to having… downtime. I was always being sent down, or preparing to be sent down. Democracy was always my guide, but…”

You tilt your head towards Ghost, and he understands. 

“You are, now,” you voice the unsaid thought.

“That’s concerning.” Ghost rests his hands on his knees and leans back against the tank. 

“I know.” You look down at the bathwater and the bubbles floating on the surface. “It’s just… I’ve never felt the peace that we preach. I’ve only known fighting, only violence and blood.”

You look up and meet his eyes. “Have you ever had your legs blown apart by an Eagle Cluster Bomb? Ever been burned alive by friendly napalm? Because I have. I’ve felt my spine split because of an Orbital Railcannon Strike. I’ve been mowed down by friendly Gatling Sentries.

“But the worst thing I’ve experienced here is name-calling and weird looks,” you say. “I’ve been sick to my stomach with worry once or twice, but then I remember you’re a soldier, just like me. You’re trained, and you’re okay, and you’ll return fine. 

“I am…” You lean your head back against the tile wall and close your eyes. “I’m at peace here.”

“I get that,” Ghost says. His voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it. “How long were you deployed?”

“As long as I can remember,” you say. 

“Bloody long time, then, yeah?” Ghost says.

“Yes.” You bring your hand up and rub your collarbone, where skin meets undefined polygons. “But you’re making me human. Less Helldiver, less of an expendable piece of resurrected meat. You’re making me softer. More civilian.”

You open your eyes and look up at Ghost. The expression on his face is… conflicted. Like he didn’t know he could bring this out in someone. 

“They always said that when united under the beautiful Liberty flag of Super Earth, nothing will be able to stop or split its glorious peoples,” you say. “But you showed me that it’s better out here. That it’s… fascism, is what it is. But that’s a secret we keep from ourselves.”

You reach your hand out and lay it over where his lays on his knee. You just barely brush your fingertips over the back of his hand before grabbing it. 

(Another log has been added to the fire, and it’s covered in lichen and dried mosses. It crackles and pops, but you make sure to keep it still contained.)

“Would you believe me if I said that I hate Managed Democracy?” You laugh breathlessly. Even saying it causes a sick feeling in your stomach, like you’ll be found out and promptly dismissed. (Read: put up against a wall and executed via firing squad.)

“Yes.” Ghost glances down at where your hand lays on top of his. “A lot of people hate the government, all ‘cross the world. Don’t you know that?”

“And they’re… allowed to?” You bite the inside of your bottom lip to subdue a smile. “Like, openly?”

Ghost laughs. “Yes.”

“This really is Heaven.” You sigh out the words, an unbelieving smile crossing your face. 

“Not Heaven,” Ghost says. “Just Earth.”

He moves his hand slightly, and you take it as a cue to move away. You bring your hand back, dipping it back in the bathwater. 

“Well,” you say softly. “I think I like just Earth.”

“On just Earth, we bathe regularly.” Ghost dips a hand in the water and splashes your knees. “Now, come on. Let’s get you rinsed off.”

[survivalove]

ATLA fandom and removing Katara’s agency and POV

Recently, I came across the following thread where OP proceeded to uplift the following ships to diminish Kataang, on the supposed basis of Katara’s agency and pov (or lack thereof).

I decided to keep all their points and pictures to show a holistic analysis of the show, which they themselves fail to do.

Firstly, on the topic of loss, Kataang has multiple moments where they connect over their losses.

At first, Katara tries to tell Aang that his people may be lost by opening up about her mother, but he is obviously in denial. It is only when he sees Gyatso’s body (like Katara did when her mom passed) that he accepts the loss of his people and her comfort.

I also want to note that this is a recurring pattern of Aang struggling to accept Katara’s comfort at first, despite these shippers’ claims that he easily accepts her “coddling/mothering”.

Kataang as seen in Katara’s pov:

This is easily the most inaccurate part of the thread and shows how shippers fail to acknowledge Katara as a character unless she is with their preferred love interest.

Kataang’s relationship is framed in Katara’s point of view multiple times, especially in these episodes.

Next, Katara’s boundaries:

Once again, they exclude the frames where Katara exercises her agency — pushing him away and telling him off, removing her pov from the scene all on their own. Furthermore on the issue of being violated, what is her point of view when she’s tied to a tree, or when her grandmother is being roughed up and tossed around?

This is part of a greater issue where shippers genuinely believe the misogyny in the writing room is exclusive to a single ship and would somehow be resolved if the female character ended up with… another man.

On Katara’s grief,

Honestly, this has to be the second most dishonest and laughable part of the thread (don’t worry we’ll strike gold soon), so I’m not even going to validate it with more than these pics:

Lastly, the ship in question:

I just find the lightning pic so funny in this context like what?? Like I said earlier, Kataang is shown from Katara’s pov multiple times, but here’s more pics because when your ship has the material!

Aang has seen Katara at her worst multiple times, either stepping in, comforting her or giving her advice (just like Katara has done for him many times, unprompted I might add) because he knows her and has seen her very hostile reactions towards Jet and Hama when they tried to use her as a tool for their revenge. Mind you, this same advice her literal brother and eventually Zuko himself agree with.

Also I always found it pretty weird how Zuko (ahem the writers) set this up so that she can forgive him right after he failed to understand why she was the last one to do so in the beginning of the episode, but anyway…

Lastly, both Aang and Katara have opened to each other in incredibly significant ways. Aang opens up to Katara about the monks and why he disappeared. She is the only person to know this side of him. Meanwhile, Katara tells him about her mother and opens up her family to him, and even in the most platonic interpretations, how is that not the most significant way to open up to someone?

[egcdeath]

hello hello how are u!!?

i’ve been rereading a few of ur fics hehe i just wanna say that i love ur writing omfg like yes plz i wanna eat the words

ok ok so i’d love to know ur thoughts on a bully!patrick x reader?? he’s just so cocky and i’d love to see what would happen if he pushed *juuuuuust* a bit further…

maybe it’s their college years and he is practically jeering and ragging at the reader while she’s at her sports practice. i think patrick would like the way her face scrunches up in anger, but she ignores him because she knows better than to go back and forth due to his quick wit. he’d act like a schoolboy. i think he’d also like getting real up close and personal w her, but never touching. and maybe he’d even go as far as to pull at her hair. “accidentally”. hooooooo boy, and the sexual undertones within it all. reasons seemingly unknown, but i believe he just has a crush on the reader, he’s being a hellish brat about it.

and reader enjoys is cuz patrick has a certain charm and he’s just so irresistible xxx but sometimes she wishes he was nicer to her but also where’s the fun in that?? and at certain times maybe he shows that he cares about her…like omg my heart

…ok i am so sorry for rambling i did NOT expect to go into such detail and also sorry if it’s a little corny😭😭😭 anyway, you don’t necessarily have to write headcanons or a fic, i more so would just love to hear ur thoughts on it, the whole bully aspect is really interesting (and hot) to me 🫢 ok again sorry for writing a whole novel in here hope ur having a good day! ur most recent fic was [chefs kiss] and im excited to read what u have cooking up x

omg i absolutely LOVE this concept!! what i immediately thought of was patrick and the reader being in very similar tennis circles (idk how tennis works so lets just assume that they're playing at similar events and reader is obviously playing w women) and like, at first, you cannot stand this man at all. like he always seems to find you before you play, or at your hotel after you've played, or at parties for the players, and he ALWAYS has something to say. a comment on your technique. a snide remark on how you played that day. a taunt about how you're never gonna beat the opponent you're playing against that day.

but the thing is... in a way, his bullying kinda helps you perform better? like he gets you so riled up and feeling so spiteful that you goes out onto the court and demolishes whoever you're playing against. so in a way it's kinda helpful... but also fucking annoying.

and like, at first you try to go back and forth with him but you literally never win the verbal spars so one day you just give up. and also part of you knows that he doesn't genuinely mean it?? maybe he even knows that his pestering is helpful to you and maybe thats why he does it?? but he is being an annoying pest regardless and you can't deal with him buzzing around your ear all the time and getting in your head before you play. so you just stop entertaining it.

but once you stop entertaining it, he gets kinda worried. like you've had this thing going on for a while and now suddenly you just don't care anymore. so now his gibes turn into questioning you CONSTANTLY. are you seeing someone? are you planning something?? what changed?? and when that doesn't work out for him he starts being nice to you. and thats when you start getting worried. i think this would make them have to admit their feelings to each other then BOOM happily ever after!!

i loveee this idea and it was so fun to think about! i'm usually a little iffy about bullying stuff buttt i could totally see it working in this context.

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Love is a Dagger: I

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader/Dagger

Warnings: Angst. Loki Pining. Soft!Loki. Steve has a little tiny itty bitty crush. Slow-Burn. Dagger is oblivious. Slight Fluff. Definitely some Steve x Reader in this chapter. Jealous!Loki.

Wordcount: 1,951

Summary: Wanda approaches Tony and Cap with a problem, Steve’s innermost feelings are revealed (and so are Loki’s), you still have a problem repressing most of yours. 

A/N: Please please please (okay Sabrina Carpenter) read the Prologue to the story here! It will provide some much needed context as to what is going on in the story. 

You had spent much of the following weeks avoiding Loki like the plague. You were no longer interested in entertaining the meals with the rest of the Avengers, for fear that he would be present. You had to expel your energy still, which is where training was difficult. The training rooms were by no means very private, meaning that you were apt to run into the other members of the team, and potentially Loki. You could detect that his presence was near fairly easily by whether your daggers started to veer off course, craving to electrify him.

You would then pack up your belongings, and make a swift exit to your bedroom. Somewhere along the way, you would likely see Thor and Loki bantering on their walk down the hallway, Loki catching your gaze and giving a respectful smile. Thor would oftentimes try to waltz towards you, in search of a hug, but you would deflect away from the affection.

When you were out of earshot, they would commonly discuss Loki’s feverish feelings that plagued him in regards to you. “Brother, just talk to her.” Thor would prompt, leading to an agonizing list of reasons from Loki as to why that wasn’t an option. “Brother, you told me she’s in mourning” Loki would reply, among other things. “Yes, yes! But clearly, you are made for each other to some extent. Y/N’s daggers have never been able to do anything but inflict pain. But they revitalized you! Don’t you think that’s something special?” 

“I do, of course I do.” 

“Then why don’t you jump on the opportunity?” Thor prodded once more, but to no avail. “I don’t want to force her into anything, Thor. I hardly know the woman.” 

“I hardly knew Jane, and I-” with a whiff of magic, Loki shushed his brother, removing his mouth completely. Training proceeded, without another word of you from Thor. 

〰//  ▬ʃ════▻   ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆   ◅════ʅ▬  \\〰

It was somewhere in the midst of these events that Wanda spoke with Tony and Steve. She was quite worried for you, to say the least. You hadn’t been partaking in team meetings or dinners for a couple weeks now. You had become a loner, much more than normal. You had been seclusive in the months following Cloak’s passing, but things had slowly gotten better. Now, she feared, they had taken a turn for the worse. 

“I’m just worried for her, ever since-”

“Yeah, yeah, Maximoff. Reindeer Games doesn’t have the greatest effect on people, I know.” Tony replied. “Listen, Y/N’s a great girl. She’d be an excellent asset to this team. Maybe she needs some mandatory training with him-” Tony was cut off with an aghast response from Steve. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, we can’t just throw her in there with him. Maybe if she had some additional practice with someone, but definitely not him. I would personally be willing-” 

“No offense, Cap. But your little crush is showing a bit too much for this old man’s liking.” 

“Whoa wait. Steve?” Wanda questioned. She hadn’t picked up on this until now. A reddened hue formed Steve’s cheeks, revealing the feelings that hid behind his eyes and stoic figure. “Wow.” Wanda spoke again, in awe. 

“Y/N will be taking on lessons with Loki and Thor. That’s final. Fighting with a lady is no way to win her anyway Steve. I’ll go let her know. Or you can? Maybe try to interest her in a dinner?” Tony smirked, throwing a subtle wink the captain’s way. 

〰//  ▬ʃ════▻   ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆   ◅════ʅ▬  \\ 〰

It wasn’t until later that day that Steve approached your door, with a hardy few knocks. “Y/N?” Your name fell softly from his lips, as if he was trying not to step on your toes. You opened the door in a near instant, met with Steve’s pleasant gaze. 

“Captain, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You spoke, a quiet anxiety between your words. For the most part, the other members of the team had left you alone during this time, save for a few words between yourself and Wanda or Natasha. 

Steve had to stop his gaze from traveling across your body more than once. He gave a curt nod, which enabled his eyes to pursue your stature, from your slippers to your cute pajamas, all the way up to the bun atop your head. “I have something to discuss with you.” He spoke suddenly, breaking the silence, as well as distracted himself from your ravishing looks. 

“Yes, would you like to come in?” 

Steve nodded, sliding the door open with his fingertips, allowing you to lead him into your space. admiring the room around him. It was very clean. Since you had so much time to yourself lately, you were able to keep a tidy environment for yourself. Anything else would feed your negativity, leading you to a worsening depression. 

You plopped yourself on the bed, padding the space besides you. “Here, sit.” You offered, and Steve’s heart fluttered. He obliged, taking the seat next to you. You looked at him with curiosity, and with admiration. There was a slight fear in your eyes. You hadn’t provided much to the team as of late, besides doing dishes in the later hours of the evening, when everyone else had retired for the night and you felt comfortable enough to retrieve your own sustenance. 

“So, Tony, Wanda and I had a discussion earlier.” He opened up, and with fleeting action, you placed your forehead in your hands. He took the opportunity to comfort you, placing a hand on your back. “Nothing bad, sold- Y/N. We’re just worried for you.”

“I won’t lie, I’m worried too. I don’t know what to think about anything anymore.” 

“I know, you’re still mourning. It was hard for me to see Bucky brain-”

“Yes, but he’s here now, Steve. Cloak- he’s-” 

“Gone, I know. And there’s nothing you, or I, or anyone else can do about that. I’m sorry Y/N.” His fingers tread across your back in an attempt to comfort you. You leaned into his touch ever so slightly. It didn’t feel bad, if anything. 

From the opposite end of the hallway, Loki lurked. Jealousy stirred as he watched Steve’s hand tracing on your back. He wished to be the one to comfort you. To touch you. To feel you. He hardly knew you, and yet- 

Loki was practically addicted. 

He didn’t want to force you into anything, nor did he want to press any of your boundaries on the subject. If a simple smile was all he could get from you as you retreated from the practice room, then so be it. But every day was harder and harder to stay away. Which is how he ended up hidden opposite your door, eavesdropping on yours and Rogers’s conversation. 

“Listen, Tony thinks it would be a good idea to learn how to use your powers alongside Loki and Thor.” Wait, what? You and Loki both thought. Both of your immediate reactions were completely contrasted. 

Yes, prodded Loki’s mind, ecstatic with the thought of spending more time with you. 

No, called yours, begging to stay away. Everything within your reserve prompted you to be around him, but you knew you couldn’t. 

You had trusted Cloak for years, he was your coverage in every battle you had. You bonded, and yet, here you were. Without him, for the first time. Suddenly, tears were prodding at your eyes, as you tried feverishly to blink them away. At this, Loki himself frowned, retreating ever so slightly. He didn’t want to hurt you. 

Neither did Steve: “I’m sorry if I hit a sore spot. I tried to convince him that you could train with me-” 

“No, no. It’s okay. I’m just scared, you know? Cloak was always my coverage. I don’t know if I can trust anyone to ever be that for me again.”

“In the Avengers, we all cover each other.” Steve responded. “Thank you, Cap.” You leaned into Steve’s touch further, and he wrapped his arms around you snuggly. You settled your head on his heavily muscled shoulder. 

Outside, Loki writhed. Out of possessive, obsessive rage. He needed to step away. He was glad you were being comforted, but how he wished it was by him instead. For a split second, he thought of transforming himself in order to charm you. He quickly shook away the thought, skillfully escaping back down the hallway to his own corridors. 

After a moment, you pulled away from Steve. “I appreciated this. I’ll do my best to wrangle my feelings and to start practicing with Thor and Loki. I do want to contribute more, I promise. I just-”

“Don’t apologize Y/N. And hey, we’d love to have you join us at dinners again. Eating as late as you must probably isn’t the best for you.” He smiled brilliantly, chuckling slightly. You nodded, following him as he stood. “And, if you ever do want to practice,” Steve started, repressing Tony’s comment from earlier “just let me know okay?”

“Of course, although, I think I’m probably not any match for a super soldier.”

“But you’re a match for two Gods?” 

“Good point.” 

You and Rogers walked down the hallway into the main common rooms, where dinner was waiting. Wanda and Nat both gave you a gentle smile, as did Thor. The primary person who you anticipated seeing, however, was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure if that was a positive or negative quite yet. 

“Where’s Reindeer Games? Not that I really care, but I do care about the structural integrity of this tower, which he has been known to threaten in the past-”

You felt his presence in a near instant, as he slid through the space between you and the doorway. “Pardon me darling,” he spoke, taking the small of your back in his hand, similarly to how Steve had earlier. Your breath hitched, feeling a slight amount of the fountain of your life force pulse against your skin, begging for you to release it to him. You stepped out of the way, allowing his fingers to linger for only a moment, which he cherished. 

You tried to not let the feeling drive you away from Loki. You fought the urge to reclude back into your room, taking a deep breath. 

At last, you were all gathered across the dining table, and you found yourself enjoying the company of the rest of the Avengers. It was slightly awkward at first, but it soon grew to be an enhanced version of the conversations you once had with them all. Loki was incredibly knowledgeable on a multitude of topics, including literature, which you loved. 

No, no no. You said to yourself. You can’t do this. What about Cloak? You tried to push your pleasant thoughts of Loki to the side, although it was difficult to do so. 

Little did you know how much Loki himself was struggling. As the conversation flowed, he listened to every time you laughed, making a mental note on what was said to make the beautiful flutter of sound come from your lips. He wanted nothing more than to sit next to you. The mere feeling of his hand on your torso nearly drove him to madness. 

Tony notified Thor and Loki of the new arrangement regarding training practice, and Thor bellowed with glee at the proposition of a new training buddy. Loki simply smiled, trying his best to repress any intense emotions. 

You retired early to bed, knowing that tomorrow would certainly be interesting with your new training buddies. Especially the one who drew your life force out of you with mere proximity.

>>> Chapter II

Taglist: @lotrefcp

[completeoveranalysis]

[4]

WELL. 

How long do you have, Watanuki?

JUST KIDDING TIME ISN'T REAL LET'S GET INTO IT

There’s like 192 chapters of Tsubasa context to really explain here BUT LET’S JUST SAY Yuuko could finally open the Jam Jar now that... I think the two requirements were (a) her Time is moving again (long story), and also (b) because there’s still a barrier between Life and Death - just! For now!

Either way the uh…

Oh gosh. Ok Watanuki you met Sakura once. Remember that? In the dream scape? She, uh, kind of died a couple of times. Actually you first met her after one of those deaths, now that I mention it, which happened in Infinity. But then - oh actually you met her again when she was in Nihon, didn’t you? You saw Sakura and Lava Lamp Guy when they were being attacked by Syaoran. Oh gosh he doesn’t even know about the clone thing. It’s ok we’ll skip that part, he uh… Oh he died before now didn’t he? Yeah ok we’ll skip that Syaoran for now, he's not in this picture. Unless he time travelled at some point - but either way. 

SO Sakura (the one you met) died in Nihon (again) that time you saw them fighting BUT also she was actually a clone of an ORIGINAL Sakura from the first timeline Lava Lamp (your original self) was in, back before he wished to turn back time - which, by the way, is the wish that resulted in you being born also. But yeah he turns back time to save her from being killed by Evil Wolverine - who you do not know about, because you’ve been hidden from so he can’t use you for evil plans, which he does often. Like the aforementioned killing of Sakura (not the one you met), for example, who did not die (all the way), but was trapped in a little time bubble while time reset around her and she’s now fused with the empty body of the Sakura you DID meet, who was her clone. But that only JUST happened, because Lava Lamp (your brother/original version) finally saved her from that Time Hole - but that in process bumped Yuuko out of HER Time Hole, woops! So that’s also why Yuuko is gone. 

MEANWHILE the other other Sakura and Syaoran pictured here are most likely your parents, who were in a Jam Jar this whole time because they ALSO ALSO turned back time, which is why they look young here, and Yuuko JUST managed to free them BECAUSE of the slipping out of her Time Hole - so this is all kind of happening right now and also somewhere else at the same time. Maybe not even in a real place the universe was kind of falling apart around them. (Don't worry about that just yet it might also get fixed because of various wishes and so on)

Did I miss anything? Yes, definitely but let’s move on!

ANYWAY WATANUKI I HOPE THAT ANSWERED YOUR QUESTION IT’S VERY SIMPLE IF YOU JUST DON’T THINK ABOUT IT AT ALL. 

PLEASE SAY HI TO YOUR POTENTIAL PARENTS PROBABLY.

[dootznbootz]

As someone who is also really uncomfortable with the Zeus/Odysseus art trend, I completely understand where your coming from!

People’s treatment of Odysseus’s assaults in general makes me really upset. Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom.

I remember being so frustrated when the snippets of “There are Other Ways” came out because so many people were making Hamilton jokes and talking about how he always talks about his wife yet cheated. When in the song it was so clear he was being coerced which is yknow, not a form of consent. I couldn’t even listen to it because it made me so uncomfortable, and even now with the full version out the fandoms reaction to it overall have soured me to it. Which sucks, because I do think it’s a great song.

Also I don’t even think Epic completely erases Calypso’s assault? At least, I think it’s left ambiguous enough during the time jump that people can come to their own conclusions. Specifically when Calypso says “Soon into bed we’ll climb and spend our time” just really gives me the impression that something else happened.

I suppose in the snippets we’ve seen of “I’m Not Sorry For Loving You” it seems like Odysseus and Calypso are on slightly friendlier terms, but I don’t think that negates the fact she could’ve assaulted him. And I’ve always took that song as pretty manipulative on Calypso’s side, with Odysseus more so trying to placate her. But that’s going into theory territory.

And even if he isn’t SA’d in Epic it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to be there!! Same with Homer’s Odyssey. It’s so infuriating to see the cheating narrative be so widely spread when that is just not what happened.

Anyway’s sorry for the long rant, but I wanted to say that it’s nice to see you take Odysseus’s SA seriously. It’s not something the fandom does enough.

It's okay for the long rant. Sorry I took a bit to get to it but I wanted some "soft chatters" for a bit before I tackled this one :)

"Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom."

I completely understand you with this stuff. ;~; I used to go through Odyssey tags often as I LOVE possibly finding new people to follow and fun things but too many times I would see shit that pissed me off. ;~; I've honestly kind of just stuck to my mutuals that I trust tbh. And honestly, there's soooo much shit of people just straight up not understanding the context/culture/meaning/etc. of the Epics and just taking it at face value and not understanding the meanings. :/ I'm no expert, but I also have analyzed and researched quite a bit on my own to try and get the full picture. I think in order to truly enjoy the Odyssey, you need to just... really soak shit in, you know?

When Calypso, that lovely goddess,  tried                           to keep me with her in her hollow cave, longing for me to become her husband,                                  or when, in the same way, the cunning witch Aeaean Circe held me in her home filled with a keen desire I’d marry her, they never won the heart here in my chest.

(Book 9, Johnston)

Odysseus tells this to the Phaecians. They are strangers that he will likely never see again and who are isolationists. Therefore his story that he told probably won't be "spread" to others so he can probably say whatever. So he doesn't have to worry about "Penelope hearing a different story than the one he told to her" if people wanna argue about how "Oh well, he didn't tell Penelope about the 'affairs'"(He tells her everything as well btw.)

He could literally say "Oh yeah, I had the time of my life!" but he doesn't because that's not true. Odysseus has no listed concubines, I just literally don't see him as the type of guy who's really into that.

And while yes, he would be devastated if she didn't "stay loyal", he does sound like he'd be understanding. He asks his mother in the Underworld if Penelope had gotten remarried to "the finest of Achaeans". And we all know of Odysseus' words of "when Telemachus has a beard, feel free to remarry". Even when first "rejected" by Penelope in that she didn't hug him when he sat across from her, he was incredibly hurt but asked for a separate bed. He literally could have had it where Penelope takes a different bed and he takes their luxurious/fancy one because he has the rest of the household on his side.

But he DOESN'T!

Because he adores her for fuck's sake!

Funny enough? I have the weird reaction of like, weirdly searching out "Good" animatics as it was a weird reassurance of "yes, people see that it's wrong." as while holy fuck. so many stupid, awful jokes about "Say No to This" in the comments (I have learned to just stay the fuck away from youtube comments on Odysseus shit. :') ) but like, seeing and HEARING how yes, this was fucked, was weirdly really nice for me. yeah, it took a lot of digging but there's a few "There Are Other Ways" that I love. Literally, both are unfinished wips and they're still my favorites. If you can, please give these two a watch and some love for the creator.

This was back before we heard the full song and it's still very good. How he's on guard until she "magics" him and the colors change. After that he kind of moves like a "puppet" but he's still resisting as best he can.

This one is literally still sketches but it's my absolute favorite. Oh my word. The body language, PENELOPE FLASHBACKS!!! Showing cute bits of Penelope's character and how awful this is for him. (Penelope is so cute. She puffs up her cheeks to make him laugh!) How he really is scared that he'll have to go through with this in order to save his friends until all his past trauma floods back and he just can't. It's lovely.

And yeah Idk how to feel about "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" :/ I don't know how it'll be yet, maybe there's something in another song that shows Odysseus' real feelings or whatever.

And with just the whole cheating thing, yeah, it's really upsetting to call what is blatant assault "cheating". As wild as it sounds, Odysseus' story has been more relatable for me than any other stories like this, even modern ones. I've spoken a bit about it before but yeh, victim blaming at its finest. I find him and his story and his love for Penelope slkdfj very relatable. It's honestly really nice to write about in a sense..

(I'm pasting this from an old post of mine but yeh)

I have never had a story that felt like how it actually FEELS. The "aftermath" and "regaining life". It's hopeful and feels really good. It's been years since "everything" but it just felt nice to see "Everybody has the chance to get better." Even Nestor, Helen, and Menelaus, while still dealing with their traumas, are doing a lot better now. And after literal hell, Odysseus got to be with his family and loved ones again. He can start living again. It's why I'm just...idk passionate about this? I'm not a murderer or a war veteran but I see myself in him. Hopefully, y'all see me as nicer though!😂(plus, let's be honest, the Odyssey is romantic af and OdyPen is right up my alley as well >:D )

I really hate the whole "he's a guy so therefore ____" whether it's used as a "Boys will be boys. they can't help themselves" usually aimed at female victims or a "Men always want sex. they cannot be victims.". It's fucked up and used against ALL of us. :( Doesn't matter if it was history. People, no matter the era, should never be put through "Are you Victim™ enough?". He is one.

Idk the Odyssey means a lot to me. I hope it's okay I take some liberties with my fanfics as it's nice healing through him :D I AM kind of using my own experiences and ideas and it feels nice. I don't think Homer necessarily meant for this but eh, anything that helps is good :D He's a war criminal that I relate to.

[firstkanaphans]

Not only do your FK Safe House posts give me life, because they were so freaking adorable when they were in the house together. I’m also so happy to see another person who cannot stand Foei and has not forgotten or forgiven him for the horrible things he said and did during SF, he is literally the reason they no longer have SF as a series. I was genuinely worried for First’s safety in the house once Tay also left, poor First left without close friends and with Foei and White still there, threatening to do the things they said!? I bet he was terrified to go to sleep at night. You know it’s bad when the producers pulled Foei and White out of bed first thing in the morning and marched them in front of the cameras - with First - to apologize to not only him but also the viewers for what they said. Foei gives me the ick so bad, so it’s nice to see someone else that feels the same way.

He’s a legitimately vile human being and just seeing his face makes me uncomfortable and angry. They should have pulled both him and White from the house after that happened. Like imagine the fallout if he had said that to a woman. He wouldn’t be employed. He wouldn’t be able to work in this industry. We would never have to see his stupid face again.

The sad thing is that I 100% believe First when he says he wasn’t offended, but I’m going to go ahead and be offended for him. I’ve always thought that Khaotung’s comment while they were doing Only Friends promo about how First is sometimes too nice and people take advantage of him was maybe referring to this incident—or at least incidents like it.

I also feel like it makes it 1000x worse that First and Tay didn’t even get the joke and they kept making it anyway. Like it’s one thing if you’re trying to get someone to laugh along with you, but it’s another when you’re making derogatory comments they don’t even understand.

And just to be clear, making those types of jokes is never okay, but I’ve seen differing opinions on just how bad what he said was in a cultural context (I believe the joke was part of a Thai TikTok trend at the time) and without being a native speaker it’s hard to completely pass judgment for anyone but myself. But for me, it was definitely not okay.

One thing I’m looking out for on my Safe House rewatch is Khao’s reaction to everything because he wasn’t in the room when it happened and I’ve seen plenty of people say he was acting differently towards Foei and White afterwards, but I didn’t notice anything myself at the time. I’m curious if he actually was more distant or if that was just wishful thinking on the fandom’s part. First was, of course, his usual cheerful self because he’s the nicest human on the planet.

Anyway, it was just a horrible situation all around and I agree that that is probably why we won’t ever get another season of Safe House. It still turns my stomach to think about and knowing they willingly said all of that in front of live cameras…What were they saying behind the scenes? The fact that Foei still has a job is unforgivable, but at least White’s gone. And good riddance.

I’m glad you’re enjoying my Safe House posts, Anon. I’ve had a lot of fun rewatching because it’s so rare to see FK completely unfiltered like that. They bring me so much happiness.

[And because I know I’ll probably get another ask about it, you can read the specifics on why I don’t like Foei here.]

[kattythingz]

Golden Snake Boy, racer edition!!! You KNOW Mei!Ed would adore racing just as much as Mei does, if not more. He had that suit personally commissioned. His bike is his baby. RIP Ling for wrecking it lmao

Speaking of Ling. Promised scene/context under the cut! :D

Basic episode context: There’s a city-wide race event and Mei’s super excited about it; she’s been practicing for it for months. MK joins the race too out of MC-typical overconfidence, and, tl;dr, his inexperience causes him and Mei to crash and Mei gets rightfully pissed at him.

NOW! I don’t think Ling would join for the same reasons; he’d be more than happy to just watch Ed from the sidelines. But he hears that Envy (DBK) is joining the race in disguise, and Ling just knows Ed will ditch enjoying the race in favor of handling Envy. Which Ling doesn’t want him to do. Ed deserves this happiness!

No, Ling will join the race himself to handle Envy, and Ed will hopefully be none the wiser.

He’s off to a bad start already when Ed asks him annoyedly what he’s doing in the runner-ups, and Ling lies about wanting to try his hand at racing. Ed grows increasingly more annoyed as Ling keeps picking beef with some “random” racer that causes chaos all around them on the track, until it all leads to Ed and Ling crashing.

Ling emerges from the ruins of the vehicles, immediately worried about Ed first. He’s relieved when Ed bursts out of the wreckage with a loud curse, and thankfully unharmed.

He’s not so relieved when Ed whirls on him next in a rage.

Ed explodes, demanding why Ling pulled this shit and of all the stupid fucking things he’d expected from Ling, this—bullshit, wasn’t it! What was he thinking, getting in Ed’s way like that? Doesn’t he—?

Ed falters.

Doesn’t he know how much this race means to him?

Ling is devastated, at the genuine hurt that laces Ed’s expression and tone. 

He hastens to explain himself, that he joined to stop Envy and keep them out of Ed’s way, because he wanted Ed to enjoy the race without needing to deal with them!

Ed snaps that he can fucking multi-task, and Ling splutters back that, yes, he knows that, but Ed shouldn’t need to every time! He already does so much for Ling and protects him so often. He just... wanted to return the favor, for once.

Figures he’s not very good at it, though. Just like with his powers that he can’t control.

At those words, finally—Ed softens.¹

“I’m sorry, Ed,” Ling says thickly, kicking stray metal chips from the wreckage of Ed’s bike. Each clink of the pieces bouncing away chips at his growing shame. He swallows. “I know it won’t fix your bike. Or your months of hard work. But I—I truly didn’t—”

“You idiot.”

He stops at the unexpectedly soft words from Ed.

“Ed?” Ling looks up hopefully.

His heart skips a beat when his best friend’s gaze finds him kindly. And this… this, too, like Ed’s earlier anger is familiar. Achingly so.

“Of all the things I might’ve wanted you to repay…” Ed sighs. “You couldn’t get this worked up about paying back all the food bills you’ve dropped on me or something?”

“What?” 

Ling jolts when Ed’s eyes steel spontaneously, and he’s stepping into Ling’s space. “I don’t protect you for favors, dumbass.” Ed jabs a flesh finger at Ling’s chest. “I protect you because I want to, because you’re my best friend! That isn’t something I ever need you to repay! Honestly!”

Oh, Ling thinks—because he really oughtn’t be surprised by this.

And yet, still, again: Oh.

“And since when have I ever needed protecting, anyway?” Ed continues, exasperated. “You know I can kick your ass any day of the week if I want. That green freak is nothing in comparison.”

“I still wanted to try,” Ling mumbles, and Ed rolls his eyes.

“And I appreciate it”—and how awful it is that Ling knows Ed means that, vexation aside—“but, seriously, Yao. You know what you’re good at, and it’s not racing.”

Ling will never stop wondering, at times like this: how effortlessly Ed lifts the entire atmosphere whenever he pleases.

This is a losing battle, isn’t it?

He can’t help his endeared laugh, further warmed by Ed’s current expression.

“You’re right,” Ling says with a smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I was thinking either, in hindsight.”

Ed smiles too, at that.² “Sounds like you weren’t at all.”

“That’s about right,” Ling laughs.

This au has a fic! :D

[ango0]

𝒜 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

⚝-How will the BSD boy’s react to their S/o dying in a car accident after an argument with them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Includes  - Dazai, Jouno, Ango x Gn! reader

Warnings - death, blood etc.

Genre - Angst

Context :►

It started out as a small fight, but that small fight soon turned into a big argument. At a point where both of your words weren’t even making any sense, but you two still kept going... Soon, in anger you just grabbed the car key and slammed the apartment door in their face. Leaving them all along..

2 hours.. 3 hours.. 4 hours.. Time just keeps going by but you don’t come home. They were starting to get worried and feel bad about what happened. As they laid on the cold empty bed.. waiting for you to come back their phone started to ring. An unknown number was calling them. They picked it up thinking it might be you calling them from an unknown number but it wasn't what they were expecting..it was a call from the hospital.. 

They made their way to the hospital, hot tears ran down their face..praying on the way that you will be ok..you will be alive..they will be able to hold u and talk u how sorry they are but.. They only arrived to see (except Jouno) your dead face.. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

⊹ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ⊹

He would be flabbergasted, confused and scared.. Another person he loved more than his own life just left him. He would blame himself for your death, breaking down on the spot.

For the first time in his life, he will cry in front of everyone. Holding your lifeless bloody body as he repeats only one sentence..

"I am sorry..Please don’t leave me like this..(Y/n) please.."

It was too late..You're now gone.. He is once again alone in this cold and cruel world with no one to show him love like you did.. 

✢𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨✢

He would lose control over his senses and wouldn’t understand what to do. As we all know he’s blind and he only relies on his senses. He would lose control over all his senses after getting the news because he’s now panicking. Tecchou dear had to take him to the hospital. 

 When he arrived at the hospital he fell to his knees. He could smell blood..your blood.. But what was more scary that he couldn't hear your heart beat..the same heart beat that he used to listen to every night as he held u in his arms.. 

He softly held your lifeless hand, feeling your blood covered soft skin for the last time. Not saying a single word with his mouth but in his head he was cursing and swearing at himself..

"If I knew it would end like this..I would have told you how sorry I am before u left me like this.."

✥𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐨✥

He stood at the doorway, looking at your dead body with wide eyes. He couldn't believe it..The person who meant the world to him is now gone.. He would slowly walk towards your body and cup your bloody cheeks..Still not believing his eyes, he softly calls out your name but no answer.

He calls out your name again..still no answer. His voice is now fully broken and he’s shaking. Ango grabbed your lifeless body and started to cry on your chest. 

"I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry, please.. Answer me..please answer me just once..(y/n) please answer me!" But no use, You are already gone..

Note: woo! I have never written a proper fanfic but here we go, I am really sorry if i made any grammar mistake. I am still learning English and trying to get my grammar better :] 

Anyways, I hope y’all liked it. But i must say, i think I got a little too carried away at Jouno’s part (he my fav) hehe. 

Okk ba-bye now :D

    -Seyoji <3

[wayfayrr]

So this is very much a self indulgent mini-fic, venting about some stuff that I've been dealing with recently <3 I'm working on requests and some other fics but I got told to post this to get it off of my chest anyway @cloudninetonine @angry-trashcan thanks for the confidence boost to be able to post this

“Hey, you’ve been sitting over here for a while, you feeling alright?”

“Just been thinking… I was part of some drama before I was uh brought here. It’s just, it’s just messed with me a bit I guess. I’ll be fine when we need to start moving again, don’t worry wars.”

After a brief second of fabric shuffling, he sits down and leans on me. It’s an oddly comforting feeling, different too like he’s bothered by something? What could’ve set him off so badly?

“Would you mind if I asked you about it? It’s clearly bothering you so, you should get it off of your chest and well, I’d just like to help you through this.”

“If you really want to know, it’s a little complicated though and while I can make a lot of it make sense to you I’ll have to leave a couple of things out.”

“Sounds like you’re willing to get it off of your chest though, so would you care to explain it to me honeybee?”

He’s being more persistent than usual too, have I really been looking so badly bothered by my thoughts? The worry does feel nice however, it feels more like talking to an old friend than anything which is wonderful seeing as I’ve not been able to reach them recently. I’ve just been stuck rereading old messages in a new context while my phone endlessly buffers to reach impossibly far servers.

“It’s… I’d been having issues with this person for a while… they used me more than anything, kept asking me for advice and making everything about them and brushed anything I or my other friends were trying to say off and sent things they really shouldn’t to people unwarrented… and then everything else.”

“Everything else? You don’t have to cut yourself off, with how you’ve been acting the rest feels like it’ll be worse anyway.”

“They just - someone connected some dots and pointed them out to me and I just… I’ve been going back over what they said and - and - and it made me think. They told me they associated my voice with a character they always got weird over, they kept fawning over my accent and how they’ve only ever heard it in fiction before, they gave me weird compliments when I was talking about things I did as a kid and that’s not even getting me started on how they treated my friends. I just… I feel so disgusted, seeing it in this light. Every bit of my skin just itches with disgust towards myself. Sorry I didn’t mean to share so much at once - I’m just tired. They didn’t even like me, it was like they only wanted me for where I’m from.”

The way he stilled sent a shiver down me, did I say to much? He might have not meant it when he said I could share… I mean theres no way he could’ve known… or does he think I’m simply overreacting? I’m probably just overreacting anyway.

My heart started beating again when he softened and pulled me to rest on him.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that all. They’re the one who is disgusting, not you, never you. I’ll speak to time, you should just rest for the rest of the day. I can lend you my scarf and you can just have a nap or I could ask wild to make your favourite food and you can just rest.”

I didn’t get a say before he’s already draped it over my shoulders; he’s leading me back over to the others and setting me down next to sky as he goes to speak with time. 

“Hmm? Did something happen, are you feeling alright dove?”

“Ah well, wars is going to ask time if we can stop for the day because I’m just dealing with some memories. I hope it won’t bother the others.”

“I doubt it, everyone’s been tense and tired recently. I know I have, I’ve been about dying for a rest. Would you care to join me too?”

Leaning back against him is all the response he needs as my eyes flutter closed, he’s so warm and comfortable. There are few people I’d prefer to rest next to. 

><><><><><><

“So then old man, I think that’s a good enough reason to settle for the day, don’t you?”

I know he’ll agree, asking him like this is simply a formality. After all, how could we continue when a member of the group is in such a state? On the verge of tears just from thinking about someone for a little bit too long. 

“You’ve never asked this for anyone else, but fine.” “Thank you Time, I’ll pay you back for this.”

“And Wars?”

“Hmm?”

“Go take your anger out on something, it’s not a good energy in the camp. Not if they’re so fragile right now. There’s apparently a standard bokoblin camp just a little south.”

He’s seen right through me then, but now I don’t need an alibi for when I come back.

[misc-obeyme]

When It's Pouring Rain

OKAY listen it's been about a million years since I wrote fanfiction of any kind and I am nervous about posting this, but I'm making myself do it anyway! The thing is, I'm always thinking about the scenarios that are talked about in the daily chats, but that we never actually get to see. So this is a short scene of what I imagine happened after the daily chat called When It's Pouring Rain. (I included the chat because I feel like it's needed for context!)

Mammon x GN!MC

Warnings: None? It's pure fluff, I just wanna take care of this guy. Oh but it might be OOC, like I said I haven't written fic in a while.

MAMMON: It’s a downpour! I’m soaked! I was even wearing my favorite jacket. What a waste.

MC: I’ll come get you.

MAMMON: Don’t worry about it. You don’t wanna get wet too, do ya?

MC: I’ll run a bath for you.

MAMMON: I’d like that! A little rain won’t stop me now that I know I got you waitin’ for me. I’m on my way!

Although the bathtub was already almost full and you knew Mammon was going to be home soon, you were still worried about him. Thinking of him running home in the rain really caused your anxiety to spike. You couldn’t help turning the water off, grabbing your umbrella, and going outside to watch for him. As soon as you saw him coming down the path toward the House of Lamentation, you ran out to meet him, standing close so he was sheltered under your umbrella. He was near enough that you could feel the warmth of his body despite the chill of the rain all around you.

“What’re ya doin’ out here?” he asked. His voice was so close to your ear that you had no trouble hearing him over the sound of the raindrops hitting your umbrella.

“I came out to meet you,” you said. “I was worried about you.”

Mammon frowned. “Didn’t I tell ya not to worry about it? You’re going to get wet.”

“I’m not getting wet,” you pointed out. “I’m under the umbrella. And you are too and that makes me feel better. Now come on inside. The bath is almost ready.”

Mammon allowed you to grab his hand and tug him toward the door. When you got inside, you shook out your umbrella before closing it and setting it aside. Then you took hold of Mammon’s hand again and went straight to your room.

“I ran the bath in my bathroom,” you said. “I hope that’s okay.”

“C-course it is,” Mammon said.

When you reached your room, pulling Mammon inside and closing the door, you stopped and looked at him. He was thoroughly drenched.

You touched the ends of his dripping hair lightly and frowned a little. “You really did get soaked, huh?” You let your fingers trail down the front of his jacket, which was also full of rain water. “Your jacket might be okay if we dry it quickly. Is this real leather?”

“Of course!” Mammon said, shaking the rain out of his hair. “The Great Mammon only ever wears real leather!”

“Give it to me so I can dry it off,” you said. You pushed the jacket off of Mammon’s shoulders and he shrugged out of it, letting you take it and drape it over your arm.

“Now you should get into the bath quickly before you get sick,” you said. “I’ll dry off your jacket and then I’ll bring you a towel, okay?”

You pushed him toward your bathroom door then went to your closet. After doing your best to get the water off his jacket, you took a fresh towel and went back to the bathroom. You knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for a response before going in.

Mammon was in your tub, eyes half closed. Once he realized you were standing there, he sank a little further into the water. The blush that started on his face ran all the way down his neck.

You placed the towel on the counter, then sat down on the floor at the other end of the tub. You leaned your arms against the edge and propped your chin on them. “I’m sorry you got soaked. Are you feeling any better?”

Mammon seemed to be having an inner struggle of some kind. He was certainly embarrassed that you were sitting here watching him in the bath, but he was also happy to be with you. Happy that you were being so attentive to him. That you had been worried about him.

“Yeah,” he said as he seemed to relax a little. “I’m feelin’ a lot better now.”

You smiled at him. “What were you doing out in the rain anyway?”

The blush that had begun to fade deepened again. Mammon looked away. “That’s none of your business, human!”

You laughed softly. “Oh, so you were getting yourself into debt, then?”

“No!” Mammon protested, looking back at you. “It ain’t like that!”

You trailed your fingertips in the water lazily. “Hmm. Well whatever it was, I hope it was worth getting caught in the rain like this.”

“I dunno about that,” Mammon said. “But gettin’ caught in the rain is worth it if it means I get to come back to this.”

It was your turn to blush. Mammon wasn’t often honest about his feelings, but when he was, it made your heart race.

You splashed him lightly, missing his face entirely. You stood up before he could retaliate. “Let me go get you some dry clothes.”

When you came back from his room with a pile of clothes in hand, you left them on the bathroom counter, then settled on your bed to wait for him to get dressed and come out.

Mammon came out of the bathroom wearing the clothes you had picked out for him. He sat on your bed beside you. Though he wasn’t too close, you could feel his warmth and you could smell the scent of your soap on his skin.

“Warm now?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at you. “Thanks, MC.”

You moved just a little closer and let your head rest on his shoulder. Mammon immediately put his arm around you, as if by instinct.

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t ask me to take a bath with you,” you said with a smirk.

Mammon squeezed you. “Oi! I ain’t Asmo!”

You laughed. “I’m just teasing you. Are you hungry? I can make you some ramen.”

Mammon looked down at you. “You’re bein’ awfully nice.”

You pulled away to look at him directly. “I don’t often get opportunities to take care of you like this. So just indulge me, okay?”

Mammon seemed to be trying to suppress his reaction. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes were sparkling. “Whatever ya want, human.”

others in this series:

Barbatos | Solomon | Lucifer | Leviathan | Simeon

Asmodeus | Diavolo | Beelzebub | Belphegor | Satan

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[kaely1916]

Go Get your Man! 🏃🏽‍➡️ pt1

Context: After everything that happened, Charles might be a little too overprotective with Edwin. After all, he almost lost his best friend for the third time in a week, so he had his reasons for deciding to secretly check on Edwin during one of his cartoon nights with Niko. What he didn’t expect to find was Niko helping Edwin get ready for a date.

“Charles, you’re going to make me dizzy if you keep pacing around my room like that.”

“It’s just... God, do you think I should go check on him? Just in case?”

“For heaven's sake, Charles, he’s only been gone for an hour and he’s with Niko. He’s fine.🙄”

“I know, I know... BUT what if something happened??? I can’t help but be all nervous when Edwin is out of my sight, Crystal. I’m worried.😩”

“You’re codependent, that’s what you are. Everything is fine. Besides, Edwin won’t be happy if you interrupt his night with Niko because you’re having an anxiety attack.🥱”

“First, I’m not having an attack. Second, he won’t know I was there if I don’t say anything.”

“This is going to blow up in your face, remember my words.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say. See you later.”

*Crystal tried to convince him again that it was a bad idea, but Charles was already passing the mirror.*

“Such an idiot.😮‍💨”

*On the other side, Charles traveled to Niko’s bathroom mirror, peeking through the door to see if Edwin was okay. He just needed to hear Edwin’s voice to know everything was alright and that he could come back, but the other’s words made him curious and he couldn’t help but see what was going on.*

“Niko, I look ridiculous.”

Edwin stood in the middle of the room, his usual Edwardian clothes completely replaced by tight black jeans and a blue turtleneck sweater, which was just... wow.

“You look incredible. That’s what you look! I knew that turtleneck would be perfect for you.”

(Oh, maybe he went to some clothes store with Niko. That’s cute. And judging by Edwin’s current outfit... damn, Niko was doing an amazing job.😳)

“When I asked you to help choose clothes, I didn’t expect such a radical change.”

“Foolishness. You, my friend, should know that I don’t do things halfway. Besides, this is your first date with that boy; you need to look gorgeous to wow him.”

(Okay... WHAT?😨) Charles almost tripped over himself if he hadn’t remembered to be incorporeal for a moment. (A date??? Edwin??? With who??🤨)

“It’s... it’s not an actual date, I think.”

(Oh, thank God.😌)

“Oh, come on. Meeting a guy to go for a walk together and visit some museums is definitely a date, Edwin!”

(Oh, fuck😔)

“Well... you might be right, but I don’t want to make a big fuss about this. This is still very new to me, you see.”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be great. Not every day a cute French ghost asks you out on a date! Relax and enjoy yourself. You deserve it. Have some fun with the French boy~~”

*Saying that Charles was speechless would be an understatement. His best mate was apparently going on a date with an apparently cute French ghost while he thought he was watching Scooby-Doo with Niko. Oh, the betrayal. He wished that was the only thing he felt, but no...*

“His name is Marcus and we are going to have fun, just not in the way your mind is suggesting.”

“You never know, my friend, you never know... Anyway, he’s close to being here, right?”

“Yes. Once again, I apologize for asking him to use your mirror, but I didn’t want him to go to the agency. That wouldn’t be professional.”

“And once again, I thank you for doing it. I’m dying to meet him!!! 🤩”

(Fuck. Now that guy was actually coming here to take Edwin out? To take Edwin away from him?? Hell no 😫) But before Charles could think about what to do, the mirror in Niko’s bathroom revealed a person.

“Good evening. May I enter?”

(He’s a freaking vampire or what?😒) The ghost looked more or less around their age, with black wavy hair and blue eyes, dressed in modern clothes and a red tie.

“Oh yes!! So nice to finally meet you. I’m Niko, Edwin is my best friend.”

“A pleasure. I’m Marcus. Edwin has told me a lot about you... Good to see you again, Edwin, you look very nice.”

“... T-thank you, you as well. I think we should be going. I don’t want to interfere with Niko’s sleep any more than I already have.”

“You guys don’t have to worry about me. In fact, do you want me to go with you?👀”

“We don’t need a chaperone, Niko. Thank you.”

“Fine, but you’ll have to tell me everything. With details! I expect to hear from you in the morning... unless you two are too busy tonight~~😏”

“GOODBYE, NIKO.💀”

*Edwin said, very embarrassed, while leaving with the other ghost through the mirror, his arm interlaced with Marcus’s. Charles was actually furious about all the advantages that guy was taking with Edwin.*

“You can stop hiding now, Charles.”

“You... you knew I was here?”

“I have very good observational skills, as does Edwin. You were really lucky he was all nervous about his date, or he would have found you too.”

“I... I was just...”

“Spying on Edwin’s first date?”

“No... I didn’t even know he had a date...”

“Oh, well, after what happened between you two, it’s normal that he didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You know??? Did Edwin tell you?”

“Well, he told me he had confessed to his friend but was rejected, and now they decided to just be friends. I just added two and two🤓.”

“I did not reject him!!! I... well, yes, we’re still friends... but I didn’t reject him! I never will! I told him that we have forever to figure out the rest...”

“Charles... are you in love with Edwin?”

“I... I don’t know.😟”

“Look, you’re my friend too and I love you, but you really need to figure this out sooner if you don’t want someone else to steal Edwin from you. Because he’s not going to wait for you forever... well, knowing Edwin, he probably would, but he doesn’t deserve that.”

“No, he doesn’t...”

“I think that for the first time in his life, he’s truly comfortable with himself, and because he thinks you rejected him, he’s starting to allow himself to date other people and experiment with what he really likes.”

“I... I know that... but... I’m just so scared of messing everything up... of not being good enough for him... of... losing him... I just... God, Niko, what if..😰.”

*Charles stumbled over his own words, fighting back tears.*

“Okay, so we’re doing this.😤”

“Doing what?🥺”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen a lot of psychological animes.🤓☝🏻”

*And just like that, Niko guided him to lie on her bed while she sat in a chair beside him, with a little notebook and a pen in her hand, and a pair of glasses that God only knew where they came from.*

“Niko...😐”

“Shhh, everything is okay. This is a safe place. Now tell me in detail, where do you think these thoughts came from?🧐”

“Well...😔”

*After about two hours of therapy, Niko realized she would need more sessions, but at least she managed to get Charles to reach a conclusion.*

“Oh, fuck😦.”

“Yeah.🙂‍↕️”

“I’m such an idiot.😣”

“Yep.🙂‍↕️”

“I’m in love with Edwin too... God, I’m so in love with him. How did I not see it before?”😫

“Love makes us blind, Charles. Don’t worry. You’re not the first.”

“But... I’m too late. Nothing matters now... because Edwin is going with that French guy... he’ll probably forget about me...”

“Okay, Charles, I don’t know if you’re an idiot or just a disaster in love matters, but you’re crazy if you think Edwin has moved on from you.”

“What do you mean?🤨”

“1. Someone doesn’t forget a 30-year-old crush just like that. And 2. You don’t know how much I had to insist that Edwin accept the other offer.”

“Wait, what??? So you basically forced him to go on a date with a stranger he didn’t want to go with??😠”

“I may or may not have told him that seeing someone would help him forget his feelings for... well, you.😬”

“NIKO!!!👹”

“What??? It was before I knew you hadn’t rejected him, just that you were an idiot who loved him back but had too many problems to realize it🙄.”

“OMG, what am I going to do now?😫”

“Isn’t it clear? I know the direction of the museum where Edwin is going.😎”

“You don’t mean..😯.”

“Go get your man!🫡”

*Without wasting another minute, Charles quickly traveled to the mirror, hoping he wasn’t too late. Just wait a little longer for him, Edwin. He would definitely get things right this time.*

---

To be continued...

[blackwolfstabs]

BWS MINDTOBER 2024 ▸ Day IV

Prompt: ONCE

──────── GIF is not mine

October 4th | "the Queen's a quiet killer, if you don't play her right."

“There she is. There’s the fucking killer.”

I can’t tell you the context. Half of it, I don’t remember and the other half, I don’t want to remember. I just know that revenge is a dick, karma is a bitch, and when you cross the two, you’ll get a killer. There are no two ways about it. 

It’s what you get when you don’t play your cards right. I play mine with my own luck. It’s reckless, impulsive, animalistic luck to be exact, but for those who believe in it, say your fucking prayers.

I had him pinned against the wall, holding him but the collar of his bloodied shirt. Fresh blood dripped from his lips and bruises were already forming on his swollen cheek. My knuckles were white. I couldn’t blink. All I saw was red. I wanted him soaked in it. 

I wanted him dead.

For someone who had the nerve to try a second shot at humiliating Tara, he sure wasn’t living up to the man he thought he was. He was nothing but a Joker in his own deck. He was observed with caution, but worthless. So fucking worthless. I’d told him once before to not ever lay hands on my sister.

Someone was looking out for him tonight, despite the awful, sadistic, appalling things he had done to her, because my gun was back at the apartment. 

But I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter. A Buck 120 is more of my speed anyway. That knife stayed strapped to my hip at all times, until I unsheathed it and held it up to his throat. 

Frankie didn’t beg for some shitty ending in a self-directed movie. He begged for his life, just like he should. But if he thought I was going to spot him some sympathy, he was sadly mistaken.

When Tara was begging for him to stop, did he fucking listen? Did he stop?

I’m not a murderer. I’m a protector. I’ll stand by that, but when it comes to my family, it’s so easy to blur the line between the two. Luckily, that’s what family is for, because it was Mindy who pulled me back across that line.

“Sam, he’s telling the truth! Fuck him, let’s just get out of here!”

I must’ve said something to make him say whatever truth Mindy was talking about. Fine, I’d let him off for the police to deal with a sexual assault case over a murder one, but that didn’t stop me from making sure he knew what would happen the next time he thought he was worth being in any of our presences. I silenced his whimpering quickly. “Good,” I growled and pressed the blade into his throat, “Because when I do this, people don’t lie.” It was a pleasure to see him just as scared and helpless as he made Tara out to be.

Chad had already carried Tara out of the room, and Mindy tailed them at the sound of approaching sirens. 

I kept my blade to his neck as I leaned in to hiss into his ear, “Now, you fucking listen, because I’m only going to say this once…” His strained grunt against the knife was like an encouragement for me to tell him how I was going to tame a brat. “If you come near me and mine again… I’ll kill you myself… And I’ll send you straight to Hell.”

Then, I released him and watched him fall to the floor as I backed away. He looked so pathetic. 

Just like Richie…

“How’s that for being involved in that Stab shit?”

a/n: this was an idea from an unwritten prompt that was created between me and @whitewolfstabs so if you're lost, don't worry, this was a fleeting thought i had for a possibility, when i write my part of the prompt

[127luvr]

003 Heaven

. ˚ ｡ ° ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⋆˙ ✧ ⋆ ˗ˋˏ ✩ ˎˊ˗ ⋆ ˙ ✧ ⋆ ｡ ° ⋆ ࿓ .  ˚

it’s a still night. the only source of light in the room coming from the candle that sits on jaemin’s window sill. the flames flicker back and forth—projecting yellow and orange onto the white blinds. it’s never this silent—never this still in a house that is usually occupied by eight people at once. but you welcome it. welcome the white noise of the air conditioner that has become the only source of sound that interrupts the bossa nova jaemin queued through his speaker.

jaemin who sits up with his back to wall next to his bed—face illuminated by his phone screen as he bites his lip. you admire him from where you sit—a bit away in his desk chair. his laid back demeanor causing you to relax your shoulders and sink into the cushioned chair, swaying in it but never spinning the wheels fully.

“you ever think about how people remember things you’ve said even if you don’t? isn’t that weird?” you never expect a response back from jaemin—always speaking at him but never conversing. it was one of your favorite things that came with the friendship. being able to speak your thoughts out loud without worrying about being judged or disagreed with. jaemin always nodded along to what you said at random—this time was no different. he didn’t bother looking up from his phone before offering you a hum of acknowledgment, almost asking you to go on.

you fix your gaze on him again as he sits—still transfixed on his phone—eyes tired as they scan the small words on the screen.

“who’s texting us?” he knows you’re teasing him but he can’t help but go pink—feeling a flush rush through his body. it’s not a serious question—you’re not even sure you want an answer but he gives one anyway.

“do you remember jaehyun? johnny’s old friend?” jung jaehyun was only a few years older than the two of you—always seen hanging out with johnny when you would come over to stay at jaemin’s. you always thought of him as an older brother—someone who accompanied you into a scary movie because you weren’t old enough yet. he was another you—adopted in by the na-suh family at a young age. but hearing his name in this context made your heart still. jaemin sees the recognition in your face, choosing to continue as he finally places his phone face down on his navy blue sheets. “he signed on with taeyong as an indie artist. i led the photo shoot for his debut album. we’ve been texting ever since.”

jaemin is careful with his wording—never outright saying what you think he’s implying. but you know where this is heading. you’ve always been able to read jaemin like a book—his emotions clear on his face.

“i was thinking of bringing him along to the exhibit—and before you say anything i know it’s weeks away but i want to make sure i like him, y/n. and i want everyone to like him.” you’re happy for jaemin—maybe even ecstatic. he’s never had the best luck with relationships since you’ve known him but you can see how important it is to him. to have his friends’ approval—to make sure he’s not jumping into anything too soon.

which is why you’re not sure why your smile feels forced—why you feel as if the friendship dynamic has shifted on its side because of the revelation—why it’s hard to get the words out even as you grin towards jaemin, “i’m so happy for you, really.”

. ˚ ｡ ° ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⋆˙ ✧ ⋆ ˗ˋˏ ✩ ˎˊ˗ ⋆ ˙ ✧ ⋆ ｡ ° ⋆ ࿓ .  ˚

prev masterlist next

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Here For You

[Until Dawn] Samantha Giddings x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: Mentions of war, PTSD, death, strong language

[A/N]: I haven't seen many stories for Sam with a female reader, so I figured I could add on to what already exists! For context: I do struggle with PTSD myself, so I know some of the effects, but mine isn't from war, meaning I'm not sure how accurate my representation of it is in this story. Also, this was written on 11-22-2022, so it's been a while since I've read over this.

Enjoy!

“Shit. I don’t know, Mike. We just got back from war for god’s sake! I don’t want to add on to her worries. Maybe I shouldn’t do this after all,” Sam ranted over the phone, her grip tightening on the steering wheel as her anxiety skyrocketed. Mike sighed on the other side. “Sam, buddy, you’ve gotta calm down. I’m sure she feels the same way. Sure, I’ve never met her, but you talk about her so much, and it seems like she’ll feel the same way. And even if she doesn’t, I can promise you it won’t add on to her worries. Just go for it! You’ll feel better if you get it done. I don’t want you to regret not asking her out.”

As she came to a red light, Sam eased on the brake to bring her car to a stop. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before running her fingers through her loose strands of hair. Her hazel eyes flickered around in front of her, seemingly staring at nothing as her mind raced. At length, she let out another sigh and shut her eyes tight. “You’re right. You’re right, okay? I’ll do it–I’ll tell her how I feel.” Her friend chuckled. “Good.” Sam smiled for a moment, but it quickly faltered before dropping. “Ugh, but what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I make her uncomfortable, and she doesn’t want to be friends anymore?” Mike groaned. Sam could hear him scratching hard at his head.

“Sam, I can’t tell you what she’ll say when you confess, but it doesn’t seem like she’d be the type to stop hanging out with you over something like this. Not from how you’ve described her, anyway. Just…when the time seems right, tell her how you feel. Let her know what you love about her–specific things–and then tell her that you love her entirely.” “Yeah, but what if–” “You’re an incredible woman, Sam. I don’t see why she wouldn’t share your feelings. And hey, I thought you were supposed to be the calm, level headed one. I’ve never seen you get this anxious over something before. Not when you were applying to college. Not even when you enlisted for the army and got shipped off to war! You’re tough, Sam. You’ve gotta get your nerves under control so you don’t blow this.”

Sam rolled her eyes at his “level headed” comment, though she couldn’t bite back her smirk. She was so grateful for Mike–he truly was like an older brother to her. “Yeah yeah, okay. I’ll calm down before I say anything. Thank you, Mike.” “No problemo. Let me know how it goes afterwards, alright? I wanna have proof that I’m the ultimate wingman.” The blonde laughed softly and glanced up at the streetlight as it turned green. She eased her foot onto the accelerator and began driving forwards again. “Will do. Bye, Mike.” “Bye.”

Sam continued driving after turning her phone off and gently tossing it into her passenger seat. She sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to steel her nerves. “It’ll be alright. [Y/N] likes you. Maybe not the way you like her, but she still likes you. She won’t stop hanging out with you just because she might not feel the same way–just like Mike said. Just…calm down. You just got back from a war. So has [Y/N]. It’s not like this will be the most terrifying thing you ever have to do.” She managed to calm herself momentarily, but as she rounded the corner that led to the cafe she had agreed to meet [Y/N] at, her anxiety spiked. It was hard not to give in to her overwhelming thoughts.

Once she pulled to the side of the road and stepped out of her car, first grabbing her phone from the seat beside her, she clicked on [Y/N]’s contact and sent her a quick message to let her know she had made it. She went inside just as her phone buzzed in her hand. ‘I know. I’m across the room from you, silly.’ Sam looked up from her phone to find the [h/c] girl standing in line at the register, smiling and waving at her. The blonde grinned nervously and waved back before joining her in line. They hugged each other tightly, so relieved to see each other again.

When the war had gotten worse and they were sent to fight in it, they were shipped off to separate locations without any contact. It drove them insane not being able to know if the other was okay. Finally, after they were sent home, they immediately called each other and were relieved to hear each other’s voice. Knowing that they were both okay allowed them to finally get the rest they desperately needed. After sleeping for about a day and a half, Sam asked [Y/N] if she’d want to meet up so they could talk. The [h/c] girl agreed instantly, and they chose to go to the cafe closest to where they lived. For Sam, it was only an eight minute drive. For [Y/N], however, it took twenty.

Sam figured the girl had left much earlier than she needed to so she wouldn’t be late. She couldn’t have arrived much sooner than she had. She smiled and sighed, finally stepping back from the embrace to look [Y/N] in the eyes. Oh, those beautiful [e/c] eyes. So captivating and gentle. She always found herself getting lost in a trance as she stared into them. All those late nights in their shared bunk, talking about plans for upcoming missions, gossipping about their fellow soldiers, softly whispering kind words and risque secrets. She cherished those nights.

Those nights were partly the reason she fell so hard for the girl so quickly.

“Sam? You’re doing it again,” [Y/N] said suddenly, waving her hand in front of the blonde’s face. Sam blinked and felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “Huh? Oh, uh…sorry. Zoned out.” The girl in front of her giggled, making her heart flutter. “You do that a lot.” She nodded and scratched the back of her neck, silently thankful that they had to step forward in line so she could hide her face by looking ahead momentarily. “Yeah, my bad. My mind just kind of…wanders.” [Y/N]’s eyebrows popped upwards as she tilted her head to the side in curiosity. “Really? Where to?” The crimson red once again warmed her face at the girl’s question. “N-Nowhere. It’s…embarrassing.”

[Y/N] smirked and nodded. “Fair enough. I’m just curious though. Why does your mind only seem to wander when you’re staring at me? I’ve never seen you zone out around anyone else.” Sam choked on the air she tried to breathe in, startled by the fact [Y/N] had caught on to her situation. The girl laughed. “Don’t worry, Sammy, I’m just teasing.” Sam looked down and used her hand to cover her face as she took a deep breath. When she felt her face was back to its original color, she lowered her hand back down to her side. They stepped forward again when it was their turn to order. “I’d like a medium vanilla frappe.” The barista behind the register nodded with a smile, wrote the order down on the cup, then turned to Sam. “And for you, miss?” “Uh, just a small green tea please.” “Alright. Can I get a name for the order?”

Sam and [Y/N] looked at each other, silently communicating before turning back to the barista. “Samantha G.” The barista nodded and typed the name up on her register. “That’ll be $8.03.” At that, both Sam and [Y/N] reached into their pockets for their wallets. They looked at each other. “Oh, it’s alright, [Y/N]. I’m fine with paying.” [Y/N] smiled softly. “You don’t have to, Sam. I don’t mind paying this time.” “Nah, I got it. You can pay next time.” The [h/c] girl blushed faintly. “O-Oh. Uh, yeah, of course.” [Y/N] put her wallet away as Sam handed the barista her card. She returned it to the blonde shortly after scanning it and handing her the receipt. “We’ll call when it’s ready.” Sam nodded.

“Thanks,” she mumbled loud enough for the employee to hear. She headed over to a table near the back of the room, [Y/N] trailing closely behind her. They sat down across from each other and smiled. Both tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t, so they looked away instead and blushed. Sam’s mind screamed at her to say something–anything–to break the silence. Finally, she cleared her throat. “S-So, uh…did your mission go well?” The [h/c] girl looked over at her. “Hm? Oh, yeah. It was…successful, in terms of the goal, but…” The girl fell silent. Sam raised an eyebrow. “But…?” [Y/N] sighed, averting her gaze to stare at the table in front of her. She began to pick at her nails.

“We just…I saw so many of my friends die, Sam. So many men and women didn’t get to come home to their loved ones. They never get to see their friends or families again. How can I consider that a success?” Sam frowned, her heart breaking as she saw tears forming in [Y/N]’s eyes. Hesitantly, she reached across the table and grabbed the girl’s trembling hand. She caressed the back of it with her thumb. “I know what you mean. I can’t tell you how many people I saw die in a single day. I see their faces every time I close my eyes. I spoke to my therapist about it, and she said it sounds like Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder. It’s really common with soldiers, even if they haven’t seen battle in person, so it doesn’t surprise me that we both might have it.”

“Yeah, my dad warned me about that. I’d heard about it multiple times throughout school, but I never knew how horrible it really is. I wish there was a way I could forget about everything I witnessed. All this stress is making me worry about my future.” “I know. It’s going to take some time, and by that, I mean years, but we’ll get through it, okay? I promise. Yes, we both have therapists who can help us find healthy ways to cope, but we also have each other. We both know the general idea of what we saw, so we have true sympathy for our situation. We aren’t alone in this. I’m here for you.” [Y/N] smiled weakly, though it dropped. “I know. I’m just…I’m scared, Sam.” Sam tilted her head. “Of what?”

“I’ve heard so many stories–I’ve seen it multiple times! How people with PTSD snap at the smallest things and end up driving away the people they love. I don’t want that to happen.” Sam sighed softly, her own hand beginning to tremble. “I can’t promise that we won’t lose control sometimes. Trauma makes you do scary things–it gives you horrible thoughts and overrides your emotions. It can make you lose sight of what’s logical. It’s terrifying, but there are ways to cope with it. Therapy and talking with people who understand it are two of those ways. It’s going to take years. I know that’s terrible to think about, but it’s true. You won’t be alone during those years, I can promise you that. I’m here, your therapist is here, and everyone else is too: Emily, Jessica, Matt, Mike, Chris, Ashley–all of us. We’re here.”

[Y/N] smiled genuinely at Sam, who returned it with her own small grin. They gazed into each other’s eyes, visibly refraining from telling each other something. Sam took in a shaky breath to ease her anxiety. She took note of how warm [Y/N]’s hand felt in her own–how soft her skin felt against her own. She recalled how warm the girl’s body felt when they had hugged earlier in line. She smiled. “[Y/N], can I be honest with you?” The [h/c] girl nodded, a spark of interest flickering in her eyes. “Of course.” Sam parted her lips to speak. “I wanted to t–”

“Samantha G, your order is ready!”

Both women jumped at the sudden holler, looking over to the register where the barista from before had placed their drinks. Sam sighed, her heart pounding in her ears. She turned back to [Y/N]. “I-I, uh…I guess I’ll be right back.” [Y/N] smiled nervously and nodded. The blonde then stood and walked to the counter, picking up the drinks before spinning on her heel to head back to the table. She sucked in a breath, cursing under her breath at how stupid she was for trying to confess at a time like that. She deliberately slowed her steps so she wouldn’t have to face [Y/N] again so soon, but because of the small size of the cafe, it only took her a few seconds to make it back. She sat down and handed the drink over, instantly taking a sip of her own to avoid eye contact.

“What were you saying?” Sam put her drink down and cleared her throat. “Uh, nothing. It’s not important.” [Y/N] frowned. “Alright…” They sat in silence, the only background noise the surrounding chatter of the tables nearby and the occasional sip they alternated between taking. After a few minutes, Sam’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and clicked on the notification. Mike had texted, asking if she had confessed yet. She sighed. ‘No, I can’t do it. Not now. I think we still need time before either one of us is ready.’ Mike sent back a frowny face, but agreed that she should wait. ‘You should still tell her how you feel though. That way she knows she can come to you when she’s ready.’ Sam rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. But I’m not telling her now. I’ll tell her some other time.’

She pocketed her phone with a huff and finished off the last of her drink. She stood and walked to a trash can, tossed her empty cup inside, and stepped back over to the table. She put her fidgety hands into her pockets and stood beside [Y/N], who looked up at her with an unreadable expression. “Why don’t we get out of here? I think it would be best to get some fresh air and talk about something else until we’re comfortable.” The girl still sitting nodded and stood up as well, following Sam as they both headed out the door. They got into the blonde’s car, and as they were buckling up, Sam paused her movements, making the [h/c] girl look over at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you drive here?” “Oh, yeah. I guess you can just drop me off here after we’re done hanging out. That way I can take my car home.” Sam nodded and started the engine, merging into the street once the upcoming traffic cleared. They sat in silence for a while, not sure what to say. Finally, as [Y/N] realized Sam hadn’t specified where she was going, she turned to her. “Where were you wanting to go? I’m not really sure of any store or mall that isn’t packed at this time.” Sam hummed, the gears in her mind turning as she kept her eyes on the road ahead. “I guess we can go walk around at the park near my place. Would that be alright?”

“Yeah, anything is fine. I just want to get my mind off of what we were talking about for a little bit.” Sam nodded, but they went completely silent after that. They drove for a few more short minutes, though it felt like an eternity to the both of them. Once they finally pulled up to the side of the road, they got out. [Y/N] stood near the hood of the car as she waited for Sam to join her after locking the car. They linked up and walked over to the red track that trailed along the edge of the park, standing a more-than-reasonable distance away from each other. Sam looked around at the other people walking around while [Y/N] stared down at her phone, mindlessly scrolling through posts on her feed.

Sam’s previously tense gaze softened as it landed on a group of small children laughing and running as their parents chased them with bright smiles. A small smile of its own made its way to her lips as she looked over at [Y/N]. “Hey, have you ever thought of having a family of your own? Y’know, once you’re ready?” The [h/c] girl looked up, surprised at the sudden question. She shrugged. “Oh, uh…I guess so. Every once in a while, yeah, but I really want to find the right person first before I even think of starting a family.” Sam nodded. “Ah, yeah, that’s a good idea. But a family doesn’t necessarily mean having children. It could mean having nieces, nephews, or a pet, or even just having a partner. There’s no real definition of what a family has to be.”

[Y/N] smiled. “That’s a nice way to look at it.” They shared a smile, finally making eye contact for the first time since they left the cafe. “What about you?” “Hm?” “Have you ever thought about starting a family when you’re ready?” Sam blushed. “Oh. Yeah, I have.” “Anyone specific in mind?” The blonde’s blush deepened. “Y-Yes.” [Y/N] suddenly smirked, pocketing her phone as she stepped closer and leaned in a bit to the side. “Oh? Who?” Sam looked away. “No one. I don’t wanna say.” “C’mon, Sammy, you can tell me. I’m the same one you shared all those secrets with back in our bunk.” Sam sighed after a moment and looked down at her feet, unable to wipe the smile from her face. “I-I can’t share any names, but…it’s this girl.”

“Yeah? Tell me about her! Maybe I could find a way to get you two together.” ‘Oh, the irony,’ Sam thought to herself. “She’s just…perfect in my eyes. She’s kind, beautiful, selfless, strong, and just…incredible. I wish I could tell her how I feel. She means the world to me. I could go on and on for hours about how much I love her. I can’t picture a life ahead without her in it–I don’t want to picture one without her in it either. Even if she doesn’t feel the same, I still want to be there for her–to make her happy and feel loved like she deserves.” [Y/N]’s smile seemed forced, not quite reaching her eyes. “Oh, it sounds like you really love her a lot!” “Yeah, I do. How would you confess?” “Me?” “Yeah. If you were in my shoes, what would you do or say to her to let her know how I feel?”

[Y/N] looked ahead, not really looking at anything in particular. “Hm…Well, I’d probably take her to a nice place where we’d be alone, and then start talking to her about what I love most about her. Then, if she doesn’t seem uncomfortable, I’d tell her how I feel.” Sam nodded, making a mental note. “That’s not a bad plan at all. Maybe I’ll follow through with it. I could do it tonight, actually.” “Oh, do I need to leave at a certain time so you’re alone?” “No, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out.” “Alright.”

They continued walking, Sam seeming to lead the conversation afterwards as [Y/N] gave increasingly shorter answers. Finally, after about an hour and a half of walking, they headed back. Sam drove them to her apartment instead of the cafe, confusing the [h/c] girl. She turned to ask her where they were, but the blonde had already gotten out of the car and headed to the front of the building. [Y/N] stepped out and shut the door. Sam turned to her and motioned for her to come over. “C’mon! I wanna hang out with you for a bit longer. Unless you’re busy?” “Oh, no, not at all.”

Sam nodded, and they headed inside. They stepped into the elevator as the blonde pressed her floor. They made it up in a few short moments and headed down the overly long hallway. Finally, just as [Y/N] was getting ready to ask how much further they would have to walk, Sam turned and pulled her keys out from her pocket, unlocking the door in front of her and pushing it open to step inside. [Y/N] followed after her. Sam closed and locked the door behind her once they were both inside. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the living room. I’m just gonna change into something a little more cozy.” “Alright.”

Sam headed into her room off to the side, closing the door behind her and locking it before quickly grabbing her phone. She shot Mike a text in a panic. ‘She’s in my apartment rn, what the hell do I do??’ Mike didn’t take long to respond. ‘Nice!! Shoot your shot and tell her how you feel!’ Sam groaned, tossing her phone onto her bed and heading to her closet. She grabbed a slightly oversized t-shirt and some sweatpants. She changed into them quickly and sat on the edge of her mattress, holding her head in her hands as her mind raced. ‘Just tell her how you feel. Make her feel safe, so that even if she doesn’t feel the same, she knows it’s okay to reject you and leave. Don’t be pushy.’

She stood and grabbed her phone. She stepped over to her door and unlocked it, though she didn’t make any move to actually twist the doorknob and open it. ‘Breathe, and just tell her how you feel.’ She finally opened the door and headed over to the couch, joining [Y/N] as she sat down on the opposite side. They smiled nervously at each other before looking away. Sam’s phone buzzed in her hand, making her look down at it. Mike texted again, giving her a few words of encouragement. The blonde smiled with a soft sigh and looked over at [Y/N], who was toying with her fingers. “Hey, so…about earlier–when I asked about starting a family. There was actually a reason I brought that up.”

[Y/N] turned to her, now intrigued. “Yeah? What is it?” “You know those things I said about that girl I like?” She nodded. “I’m not sure if I made it obvious about who I was talking about, but could you kind of get a hint as to who I was referring to?” [Y/N] looked to the side as she thought to herself. “Uh…no, actually. I don’t really know anyone that we didn’t both meet during training, and from what I could tell, you didn’t really care for anyone there since they were all really rude at first.” Sam chuckled. “Yeah, until they got scolded multiple times, they were honestly pretty annoying. I tried pretty damn hard to stay calm around them, but they made it so difficult.” [Y/N] laughed with her this time. “Yeah. Kinda reminds me of boot camp.”

Sam nodded, both women smiling warmly at each other. Suddenly feeling the urge to be closer, the blonde scooted towards [Y/N], who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “Well, the girl I was talking about, I actually did meet her during training.” The girl’s eyes brightened, seeming hopeful. “R-Really?” “Yeah. All those things I said about her were true. I don’t want to picture my life without her in it.” Sam’s smile widened. “I don’t want to picture my life without you in it, [Y/N]. Even if you don’t feel the same about me, I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you–trying everything I can to make you happy. You deserve the world, and I want to try to give that to you.”

[Y/N] stared at her in shock, her face bright red as she fumbled nervously with her shirt. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed a bit after a moment of no response, her confidence crumbling. “Is…Is everything alright? I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” [Y/N] blinked. “Huh? O-Oh, no! Not at all! I just didn’t expect you to feel the same way about me that I feel about you.” It was Sam’s turn to blush this time. “You feel the same way about me?” [Y/N] nodded. They smiled wildly at each other, overwhelmed with both joy and relief at the realization that they felt the same way about each other. Sam scooted closer, tenderly taking [Y/N]’s hand into her own. “So…what does this mean? What are we?”

The [h/c] girl shrugged after a moment, her smile never faltering. “I’m not sure, honestly. I really do love you, Sam, I’m just scared.” Sam tilted her head. “Scared? Of what?” “Of being in a relationship so soon after making it home. I’m worried I’ll be too anxious or stressed to play my part in a relationship like this. I just…I need time. I promise you, we will date–my heart belongs to you, but I’m just going to need a bit of time to figure things out. Maybe once I find good ways to cope with what happened, I’ll be ready.” She looked up at the blonde, expecting her to be upset. To her relief, Sam was still smiling as wide as before. She nodded and squeezed her hand.

“I agree. I think I need a bit of time as well. I’m just so relieved to know you feel the same way.” They stared at each other for a moment longer. At length, [Y/N] suddenly leaned forward and pulled Sam into one of those warm hugs she was so in love with. She froze, but quickly melted into the embrace and held her back just as tight, inhaling her scent and closing her eyes. “I’m so glad I met you, Sam,” [Y/N] whispered softly. Sam felt her smile grow wider as she buried her face into the girl’s hair. She held her tighter. “I’m glad I met you too. I love you so much.” [Y/N] didn’t respond for a moment, making Sam worry that she had said it too soon. Her worries were washed away, however, as [Y/N] chuckled through a sob. Before Sam could ask what was wrong, a soft, “I love you too,” came from the girl’s lips. They stayed there for several long moments, swaying side to side slightly as they enjoyed each other’s presence and warmth.

Finally, they leaned back and gazed into each other’s eyes. [Y/N] had been crying, but Sam could tell it was from joy instead of pain. She grinned, softly wiping her tears away. “Everything will be okay, [Y/N]. I promise you. I’m here for you.”