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mellowyellow236 · 25 days ago

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TWST Boys General HC’s!

Just some HCs for the TWST boys. No real theme to them or anything, and it’s mostly self-indulgent. Some characters will have much more than others, but I made sure everyone has at least one (You can clearly see what my favorite dorm and characters are lol-). Mostly fluff, but I’ll state before the headcanon if it’s angst, or if there’s a trigger warning, in red. Requests are open if anyone wants :) All writing under the cut!

Heartslabyul:

Riddle Rosehearts -

Gets very tense about things being dirty because he grew up in a really sterile environment with his mom. Sometimes, he gets worked up over something and cleans to calm down, it’s probably one of his healthier behaviors even if he has to work on not getting tense when it isn’t perfect.

His favorite sweets are obviously strawberry tarts, but in second place is red velvet cake or cupcakes. He likes the color and thinks it tastes like chocolate.

He likes trying all of the sweets Trey makes, and sometimes does taste tests like he’s judging them in a bake show. He lines them up, tries each of them, and thinks about what he likes and dislikes about each.

Also, he got a hedgehog plushie from Trey, and since his overblot, he has slept with it every night as a form of comfort.

Angst, Trigger Warning for EDs - Yeah, this one is pretty self-explanatory. Considering his devil of an almond mom and how thin he looks, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had one.

Trey Clover -

He’s a huge stress baker. He panics about the Prefect and Aduece duo being in trouble and suddenly the fridge is full of various baked goods.

All of the Heartslabyul first years call him dad, but only a few to his face. Those few are Ace and Deuce, who started it.

Trey loves trying out new recipes, and he wants to publish his own recipe book one day.

Cater Diamond -

Cater loves spicy food, which is canon, but my headcanon is that he makes his own spice blends to use on his food.

Cater and Trey used to have weekly cooking/baking nights when they were roommates. Cater would cook something, and then Trey would bake something. They’d eat together and watch a movie in their dorm room.

Angst - I subscribe to the theory that Cater was the housewarden before Riddle. Headcanon that now he thinks that Riddle’s overblot was his fault. Cater wasn’t able to help out his underclassmen when this started, since he was too weak to be able to win, and after he lost Riddle spiraled even harder down the road of a tyrant.

Ace Trapolla -

Ace genuinely loves the hedgehogs but hates taking care of them because he can’t say no to giving them treats, and then Riddle gets mad. He’s gotten much better at hiding it when he does, though. (Riddle’s just gotten better at not getting mad about)

He loves reading those really bad romance novels where you have to pause every few pages to figure out what just happened and why. He has a secret account he used to write fanfiction on but stopped after his brother found out and teased him over it.

Deuce Spade -

He calls his mom every day at the same time. He does not let anything stop him and Ace likes to stand next to him and make fake moaning sounds to annoy him.

Angst, trigger warning for recovering addiction - Deuce used to be a delinquent, and so he did some bad stuff. He’s currently recovering from some kind of addiction, although he’s doing much better now. He has weekly meetings with Riddle about it, who uses the knowledge his mother made him learn about it to help him. They bond over not wanting to disappoint their mothers and how they want to get good grades to make them proud, even if it’s healthy for Duece but unhealthy for Riddle.

Savanaclaw:

Leona Kingscholar -

His favorite place to nap is the botanical gardens because it’s warm and sunny, like a cat.

Back when they were kids, Falena/Farena(Eng. Vs Jap. name) used to braid his hair. They used to put in little beads and things for fun.

Agnst - When they were kids they were super close, but then Farena and Leona grew apart because Leona didn’t want to ‘hold his brother back’ after getting to know what everyone thought of him. Farena still calls him every week to try and talk, even back when Checka was a baby/toddler. Leona would never admit it but he listens to every voicemail that gets sent.

Ruggie Bucchi -

His favorite kind of donuts are the lemon-flavored ones. He likes that they're tangy and not as blindingly sweet. In second place is blueberry, and third is jelly-filled.

Ruggie had been pushed to babysit Checka for Leona, and they went to a fast food place together. Ruggie taught Checka how to dine and dash. (And then came back with Leona who paid for their meals)

Jack Howl -

He does a morning run every day and then has a big breakfast. He sees it as the most important meal of the day and never skips it, no matter what. He started doing it with the Prefect so that way he could make sure they were eating well/enough, and now all the first years meet up for breakfast on the weekends. Grim+Prefect bring tuna, Epel brings apple juice or pie, the ADuece Duo brings whatever Trey has left over, Sebek brings some fae dish made with normal ingredients so they can try it, Ortho brings various ingredients and Jack cooks whatever Ortho brings.

Octavinelle:

Azul Ashengrotto -

Angst, Trigger Warning for EDs - Azul has really bad eating disorder tendencies. Like, ‘Well, I had a singular chocolate so now I can’t eat dinner’ bad. He’s working on stopping it, but right now he can’t do much about it. However, the one thing that often works is Jade’s mushroom dishes. Jade started looking for them and told Azul that they were healthy, so now they’re his safe food. Floyd wishes it was anything else at this point, he's so sick of mushrooms, but he'll let Jade cook them for Azul even if Floyd doesn't touch them.

Jade Leech -

Jade doesn’t have a favorite mushroom because he feels like if he picks one that makes the others less special. He had one for like a week when he first came to NRC, but felt so guilty he stopped liking it more than the others. (It was Amanita phalloides/the death cap mushroom)

Floyd Leech -

Floyd thinks really hard about what nicknames to give people. He tries to get something that matches them, and who they are based on what he knows (Ex; Ace is often ‘crabby’, Kalim has a ‘fluffy’ personality like a sea otter, etc.) The exceptions are the Prefect and Riddle, who he just saw and went “Yeah. Shrimpy and Goldfishie. Shrimp posture and red hair. That’s what they are.” He doesn’t give nicknames to Azul and Jade because he believes that they’re both so interesting they could never be categorized as anything but their name.

Scarabia:

Kalim Al-Asim -

Kalim loves jewelry and wearing it. He often gives it as gifts to Jamil, and it’s why he has so many golden accessories all over. Kalim proves the gold, but Jamil is often the one who picks out the design.

Since Jamil’s overblot, Kalim’s started learning how to do stuff on his own. So far, he can (mostly) clean a window and (kind of) cook! Specifically, he’s learned how to cook pasta and add seasonings to soup. Not the best, but he’s trying.

Jamil Viper -

Jamil has so many snake things because of his last name and he hates it just because he's so sick of them at this point. He often trades gifts with Najma, so he ends up with a bunch of star-themed things as well. On his bedframe back home, he’s got little glowing star stickers.

Pomefiore:

Vil Schoenheit -

He used to buy up a bunch of these Neige necklaces that were super breakable, and whenever he got mad, he would throw them at the wall until he calmed down. Then he cleans up and thinks about what happened and how he feels. Although, it’s a surprisingly healthy way of getting his anger out, especially considering the more violent nature of throwing the necklaces.

Rook Hunt -

Rook has a ‘secret’ fanfiction account that he uses to write fanfics of Vil and Neige, sometimes together as friends and sometimes. Everything is oddly on point and both fandoms hotly debate what it means when he has a certain character bring up an event he never expanded upon and they never mentioned. His fics even have their fics written about them, including his “OCs” who are actually just his other classmates who aren’t as well known.

Epel Felmeir -

Epel secretly loves to bake but never did it pre-NRC because it wasn’t “manly enough” of a hobby. Now that Vil’s worried about excess sugar causing breakouts and stuff, though, he does it much more often out of spite. (Ironically, Vil thinks it’s great because Epel’s expressing himself naturally and not trying to conform to being manly or not)

Ignihyde:

Idia Shroud -

He likes to play the TWST version of the Sims and Stardew Valley and gets really into modding them. He likes to make characters of all of his favorite people and then talk to them. They’re hyper-realistic to how they act and look too, to the point where it’s either really creepy or romantic depending on how you look at it.

Ortho Shroud -

Angst - Ortho likes to listen to music and look at art because they’re the only things that he can’t automatically compute. He can do a math problem in seconds, but he’ll never be able to have the human ability to connect to art on an emotional level, so he consumes as much as he can in hopes of finding a way to experience it.

Diasonia:

Malleus Dracona -

He has a dragon horde, but instead of gold, which he already has a tone of and doesn’t care for, it’s full of grotesques, pictures of gargoyles, and various gifts from his friends and father. He tried to go to sleep on it back when he was little, but nearly crushed some stuff, so Lilia decided to knit him a big blanket to use instead. Later on, Silver and Sebek also pitched in, then the Prefect, and so now Malleus has a horde and a pile of snuggly things to sleep on.

Lilia Vanrouge -

He calls the prefect ‘beastie’, which I am unsure of if this is canon or not. It could just be a very popular headcanon I’ve seen.

I think it’s canon but not explicitly stated so I’ll state it as a headcanon; Lilia was in a polyamorous relationship with both Raverne and Meleanor. I ship it very hard and I need to say it.

Silver “Vanrouge” -

My main headcanon is that he listed Lilia as his father on all school documents. Not legal guardian, but father. He did tell Lilia, but Malleus saw and did the same thing afterward.

Sebek Zigvolt -

Sebek has a diary that he often writes in, and by often I mean almost every night. Surprisingly, most of it isn’t about Malleus, but rather his everyday life and school. He talks about his friends, and how classes are going, and even occasionally praises his various classmates for small things. It might seem out of character, but it’s just a place for him to vent the feelings that he has that he doesn’t want to talk about to others.

Ramshackle:

Grim -

Grim loves tuna, which is canon, but it’s not his actual favorite fish in terms of taste. It’s just that tuna was the only thing that the Prefect ever got for him ever since he first requested it because he was in the mood. The fact that they cared so much to get him his “favorite” after he requested it turned tuna into his favorite.

RSA+NBC:

Che’nya -

Che’nya always makes sure to take really good care of his teeth and is very proud of his smile. He thinks it makes him look adorable, and it does.

Neige Leblanche -

Neige loves sewing and knitting, he thinks that it’s so much fun to make cute things. He’s worn them out, and often posts about them online. He doesn’t have enough free time to make his own patterns, but he hopes to be able to get good enough to do so one day.

Neige likes acting, but he loves singing and dancing. He doesn’t get to do it as often because he mostly acts, but it’s his favorite thing to do. SDC was so much fun for him, he really wanted to get to perform and meet all of the performers from different schools.

Because Snow White’s voice is so high-pitched, I HC him as a tenor by nature, although he taught himself to sing much higher notes, maybe even those of a normal soprano. (A tenor is the higher, often male voice in most choirs and a soprano is the higher, often female voice- It’s a bad explanation but it basically means he’s got a higher vocal range/voice than some of the other characters when he sings.)

Bittersweet - Neige is just as much of a cinnamon roll offline as he is online. He donates a bunch to charity, and considering his backstory, I think that most of it goes to orphaned or helpless children like him, who don’t have an adult around to take care of them. He hopes to make sure that no children have to go into the workforce young like he did to support the dwarves and himself, even if he knows that it’s not realistic.

Angst - Neige never wanted to go into acting but had to because he was good at it and he couldn’t find any other well-paying jobs for children, so he could support himself and his seven friends. He loves his job, yes, but sometimes he wishes that he could’ve been a normal teen doing his school’s plays or community theater rather than worrying about having to stay on top of trends and stuff.

Rollo Flamme -

Already mentioned this in a previous post, but Rollo is an all-or-nothing kind of guy when it comes to crushes, but it’s a bit more than that. In almost everything, he puts either all of his time and energy into it or he just doesn’t care. Friendships, schoolwork, relationships, even little things like chores, he does it all or he doesn’t do it.

Other Event/Side Characters:

Checka Kingscholar -

Checka loves visiting his uncle, so much so that he spends at least a weekend at NRC a month. It’s his favorite part of the month, and he loves that Leona will give him treats and find some time to play with him. (Leona clears his entire schedule for the weekends Checka comes out even though he’d never admit it)

Najma Viper -

I think Kalim has a canonic cousin based on Jasmine, so I HC Najma as being her handmaiden. Kind of like Dalia to Jasmine in the live-action Aladin.

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azulera · 1 year ago

Note

Rashy noticing that's something has been wrong with you for the last few weeks and you just won't tell him and he's stressing trying to figure it out

azulera

Don’t Leave Me Alone

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black Reader

Words: 3.5k

Notes: ngl recent events have made me not even want to post but i already had this done and as i said, i do value that ppl like my writing enough to send requests. so here is this! hope u like it anon

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

They'd picked the summer time to move in, late May to be exact, and Marcus was sure it was the smartest decision he’d ever been a part of. The prem season was ended, Y/N was out for the semester, they both had at least five weeks free to travel and relax, and there’d be no cold for the mover’s fingers to go blue in. The transporting itself had gone smoothly, each of her things finding its place in the huge expanse of his house, and the past month and a half of eating, sleeping and waking next to each other had been as nearest to perfect as Marcus thought life might get. So he couldn’t explain what, in the last seven days, could have possibly gone wrong.

“Is everythin alright, love?” He asked over the dinner table, which was sanded wood and brought over from Y/N’s apartment, much smaller than the one he’d used before.

She looked up from her plate and blinked. “Do you mean about dinner? I think I finally got the potatoes right this time, yeah.”

“No, not the food.” The side of his mouth lifted. “You’ve just seemed a bit down, this week, I don’t know. Just wanted to ask, see if there was anythin buggin you?”

“Oh,” She passed a hand over her hair. “Just tired, I guess. It was a rough semester.”

“Yeah, it was – you smashed it, though. But,” He paused until she looked at him, and was immediately taken by her brown eyes, which, unreadable as they were, he’d always found incredibly beautiful. “If anything’s wrong, you can tell me. I’d want to help.”

“Mhm.” She replied, and flitted her eyes away, pushing up from the table. “Let’s clean up?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t convinced, and stood up to take their few dishes to the kitchen. They rinsed and loaded in a silence not as comfortable as it ought to have been, and soon finished, Y/N pausing in front of the rumbling machine. From behind, Marcus pulled her into an embrace, fitting his hands around her waist and mumbling into her neck.

“Wanna come cuddle wi’me for a bit? We can watch the next Narcos.”

He felt her take a deep breath, and then lightly pat the hand that held her.

“I’ve got a little headache, actually. Think m’gonna lay down for the night.”

Marcus frowned. “You want me to watch the next episode? Without you?”

“Yeah, go ahead – I’ll get caught up when you’re on your trip next week. I’d just really like to lay down.”

Fatigue colored her voice, and Marcus felt a little more sure that she really was just under the weather, and not anything worse.

“D’you want me to bring you tea? Water? Medicine?”

She shook her head “no”, and turned around, another sigh hitting the fabric of his t-shirt.

“S’alright, then. Hope you get feeling better, babe.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then two to the dark spirals of her hair. “I’ll be up in a bit. I love you.”

A near silent “thank you” left her lips, and she squeezed his hand once. And then Marcus was left in the kitchen alone.

After a mild pre-season session the next day, Marcus skipped showering to go straight to his car. When he’d seen her that morning, Y/N had still seemed poorly – she hadn’t left bed for tea and breakfast with him, and no silly texts or memes had come into his phone, the way they usually did during his long hours of training. Leaving now, he'd felt a strange, strong urge to get to her, like the sooner he did, the sooner things would go back to normal.

When he keyed into the house, however, her usual lounging spot – in the center of the living room sectional – was empty. As were the kitchen, bedroom, gym and laundry room that he walked to after. He found her instead on the back patio, cuddled into herself on the sunbed, with her curls spread wild and loose about her shoulders. A book was opened up and settled on her knees, and a pile of crumpled tissues sat just to her right.

“Hey, was lookin for you.”

The jitters that assailed him finally began to slow as he approached her, but didn’t fade completely.

“What’s all these for? You wasn’t crying, were you?”

“No, no, not really. It’s just this book. It’s pretty sad.” She tried to laugh at herself, but the sound came out wet and dull. “Or maybe I’m just dramatic.”

A range of emotions swept over him as he considered her pink, puffy eyes, the way she still wouldn’t hold his gaze for too long. His anxiety flared again, but he continued on with the plan he’d devised in the car, hopeful that it might still work.

“Well, I’m just about to run a bath, didn’t have time to shower after training. It could cheer you up, maybe. Did you wanna join me?”

It’s something special they do, just for them, a quiet and closeness involved that Marcus enjoyed far more than he’d ever said aloud. He hoped it would be enough to break through the wall he felt sprouting between them.

“But you’re all sweaty.” She said flatly.

He sucked his teeth, and sat alongside her on the thin mattress.

“That never stopped you before? When we were squeezed up in the one at your flat.”

“Right.” Her face fell, suddenly, as if she’d remembered something unpleasant. “But I’ve already showered, actually, a bit ago. Went out for a run.”

“That never stopped you before, either” Marcus wanted to say but didn’t, and focused instead on fixing his face to not reveal his disappointment.

“Okay.” He stalled a moment, weighing his next move. “Babe, are you sure everything is okay with you? M’a bit worried–”

“It’s fine, Marcus. It’s going to be fine, just …” She closed her eyes, and they glistened when they opened, focused seriously on his own. “I’m fine. Just stop pushing it, please.”

She gathered her book and trash and walked back into the house, which hurt him, but her last sentences hurt worse. If he wasn't meant to push, then what could he do? Sitting back and watching her pull further and further away from him was tortuous and seemed the opposite of what a good partner should do. Still, he nodded, even though she had already gone, and let his head fall into his hands.

A few hours later, in the bath, the jacuzzi jets going but alone, nothing was as it should have been. Already he missed the slide of her wet skin against his, how the brown of it went faintly pink the hotter she ran the water, which was scalding enough by Marcus’ standards. Now it felt lukewarm at best, the bubbles even less fluorescent, less bubbly than usual, without her there to scoop handfuls of them to paste on his face and chest, making herself giggle and cleaning their bodies in the process. He missed that, too, he realized, her body – it’s softness and strength, and how easily it yielded and came alive under his hands, but more concerning was her mind, which was somewhere outside its optimal state, and seemingly getting worse by the day.

He leaned his head back against the tub’s edge and sighed. It was a soft sound, quickly lost among the hum of the jets and the noise of his muscles singing and thanking him, but then he heard something else. Crying. Quiet, choked-off sobs from the other side of the en suite door, that he knew Y/N was trying to hide, but didn’t know why. The sound alone carved a hole deeper in his chest.

Before he realized it, he’d risen from the bath, shampoo still in his hair, and pushed open the door to their bedroom.

Squinting through the dark, Marcus could tell she was in the bed, asleep, or at least pretending to be. He debated whether or not to wake her – his every instinct begged him to, but the noise of tears had stopped, and he’d been specifically, harshly instructed not to “push”.

He waited several moments anyway, eyeing her sleeping form, burning up inside, but when she didn’t budge, he stepped back into the bathroom, mindful of the growing puddle he’d created on the carpet.

Under the shower head, he rinsed his hair and dried off, putting on his lotion and moisturizer in record time, all the while his mind racing, trying to settle the unease twisting up his chest and throat. When he got to the bedroom, he set his alarm and settled in under the covers behind her, as close as he dared.

Though her breaths came and went evenly, something in him, maybe something of his own creation, told him she was awake, that she could hear him. He felt free to unburden himself, and say what he wanted her to know.

“M’here for you, Y/N.” He used one arm to hold her against his chest, and the other to fix her hair scarf where it had ridden up in the back. “Hope you know that. Whatever it is, we can … fix it, talk about it, at least, together. Love you ... don’t wanna lose you.”

He knew the words were true, and could feel their sincerity aching somewhere deep in his bones. But he feared he was running out of ways to make sure Y/N believed it, too.

By the following day, Marcus decided “not pushing” was no longer a viable option. Y/N was gone from bed even before him, and he turned to his night-table to find a message saying she’d gone out for an early run again and to get coffee. It wasn’t a strange occurrence on its own, but the way the last few days had gone, weeks really, this latest change to their patterns was enough to set him on a nervous edge. All through the day, his head was gone, drifting and distracted while training, and his thoughts sprinting to the worst - Y/N wanted to move out, she wanted to break up with him – in any moment he had idle.

But when his third check-in text sent from the rain-wet bed of the physio suite went unanswered, as did the two facetime call requests, it became slightly harder for him to breathe. The PT scrunched his face, but Marcus didn’t explain, wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak if he tried, and he’d been forced through two rounds of deep breathing before he’d let him off the table.

As soon as the gaffer released them, Marcus raced home through the rain that had begun to pour, calling one more time to no avail, but trying to stay rational. He imagined her sat in her spot on the big sofa in the sitting room when he arrived, apologetic and with some perfectly logical story of what had kept her from her phone all day, and what had depressed her mood the past few weeks.

He opened the front door, however, to silence, and her car keys still gone. His stomach dropped, and an icy, despairing prickle crawled over his skin. Was he overreacting? Or should he have pushed more?

Somehow he knew the rest of the house and even the back porch would be empty, just as silent, and found himself climbing the stairs anyway. His legs stopped by the room he used as his office, and he threw himself into the desk chair. He felt more calm, serious in there, for some reason, and composed himself enough to check her location, which was inconclusive, and click her contact another time. It went to voicemail once again, and he cursed, pulling at his hair.

After one heavy, frantic beat, he picked up the phone again to dial the only other number that would be useful at a time like this. The call picked up on the second ring.

“Mum?”

Marcus’ car had been in the driveway when you pulled up, but when you stepped into his house – your house, now – there wasn’t any trace of him. Late afternoon training usually left him in the kitchen or theater room, scarfing down whatever meals his nutritionist prepared before conking out in his-your bed for a few hours until dinner.

You checked your phone, which had been dead up until the last five minutes when you’d connected it to the car charger, and realized it was closer to dinner time than you’d thought.

Dropping off your raincoat and bag, you went in search of him. The blaring missed calls and texts deserved a response, as hard as it would be to face him in person. You didn’t want him to worry any more than he already did, even though you felt there was little, if anything, he could do.

“Marcus?” You called up the stairs, but there was only your footsteps, the patter of rain, in answer.

You began climbing anyway, sure the sounds of the house would lead you to him, and eventually heard his voice, muffled through the closed door of his office. You stopped, and leaned against the wall to listen.

“She won’t talk to me, mum, she won’t, I’ve tried everythin. She’s not physically hurt, no, but something is wrong. I know that much. It’s like she don’t even want to be around me.”

There was a pause, and an ache began in your chest. The distress in your partner’s voice was palpable.

“But I’ve gave her space. And I’ve even asked her up front what’s wrong, and still nothin. I'm leavin for my trip in a few days, and I won’t be able to fix anythin from there. Reckon she might even be gone by then.”

Each second you listened, you fell further and further into the mire of guilt, and it seemed impossible to get out. Some external force, whose name or origin you didn’t know, forced your hand onto the knob and pushed into the room.

You met his eyes, cautious, but found nothing but relief, unshed tears in them.

��Y/N. Baby.” His voice cracked around the words, and he flew to your side of the room, crushing you to his body, burying his face in your damp hair.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay? Where were you?”

You tried, but couldn't speak around the lump in your throat. All you wanted was for him to hold you again, and to apologize for everything.

“Y/N. You’ve gotta talk to me, please. M’goin mad here, I’ve been goin mad–”

“I’m okay, Marcus. I’m not hurt.” You squeezed at his hands, trying to loosen their tight grip around your back and also trying to ground him. “Went for my run and coffee like I said, and then around to visit my mates at my old flat. My phone died, and I didn’t realize. I should’ve known you would worry.”

He looked back at you with wide eyes still, nodding slow like it was taking serious effort to comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“I’m okay, baby. I promise.”

When he finally spoke, his voice was gravelly, but much quieter, and none of the terror gone from it.

“Y/N, look, know you asked me not to push, but I can't just do nothin while–”

“Wait, Marcus – can we sit and do this? Please. And you’ve gotta get out of this jacket, babe, it’s soaked. You’ll catch a cold.”

The familiar sound of your fussing seemed to center him further, and he slid the jacket off, settling stiffly on the futon along the opposite wall. His legs were spread wide, and he raised his hands to his knees, fingers digging into them.

Hesitantly, you followed, standing between his legs, watching his eyes, which you’d missed, and his lips, which you’d possibly missed even more. You paused before lowering yourself onto his knee.

“Is this okay?”

“‘Course” He breathed out, pulling you the rest of the way down and rubbing his hands gently up and down your back. It was the first moment you’d felt at ease in the last two weeks, and you took the time to just hug him, wiping at a drop of water puddled along his hairline. Gradually, everything that had been pent-up seemed much easier to face.

“I’ve been real distant the past weeks, haven’t I.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s cause I’ve been confused.”

“Confused about what?”

The intensity of his eyes suddenly became too much, and you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. You made sure your voice still reached him clear.

“Confused about my feelings. About us, about us living together.”

His stomach had gone cold with dread again, but you took the silence as a license to continue. You knew he would stop you if and when he’d heard enough.

“It’s been great, it really has, Marcus. You’re my favorite person to be around – you know that.” His insides smiled at the mention, since the past week had convinced him of the opposite. Still, his expression remained the same.

“And you seemed so happy, having me here. But sometimes, lately, it got — I don’t know, overwhelming? Like, I had my friends in my last flat with me, and it feels like I spend so much time here alone. When you’re here, I don’t feel like that, but that don't feel fair to you either.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t understand.”

“I know, it’s confusing, but it’s like, I’m used to my roommates, us all together, a lot of noise – even when you’re alone you’re not really alone. So whenever you get here, I want to recreate that, spend every second with you, if I can. Didn’t want you to think I was clinging, though? ‘Cause I know how that feels, too.” You paused to take a breath, and Marcus rubbed your back, silent encouragement to continue.

“Thought you should be able to come home and spend your time on your own, too, if that’s what you wanted. So I was moping, but trying to give you that, for a while. Thought that if I could give you some space until your trip next week, I’d be okay. I could use that week to get myself together, stop being ungrateful. ‘Cause I am so lucky, aren’t I? To be able to live with this person I love so much. But I guess I only made it worse.”

“So it’s findin a balance, then, that was hard. Findin ... where you and I, personal time ends, and where “us” time begins.” Marcus summarized.

There was an unspoken “Why didn’t you just say so?” at the back of his statement that your partner was too kind and too patient to say. But you deserved it, so you said it yourself.

“Exactly. But I should have told you that it was eating me up. Not tried to isolate myself, or shut you out. And I’m sorry, about that. ”

Marcus let the apology ring out, and laced the fingers of one of your hands together, a quiet absolution. You felt lighter, now, after having spoken your piece, but knew that didn’t mean the conservation was over.

“Don’t think I need to say I forgive you, because,” He leaned his chin into his palm thoughtfully, before looking up at you. “Because I really get it, you know. I do. I understand that you need your own space, to feel like your own person still. And also that I’m gone, and it’s just you here, a lot, which is new for you. I get that it’s overwhelming, that findin the balance bit. But– I’ve never done this, moved in with someone before, either, have I? It’s excitin, but it’s a lot of other emotions, too. You can’t assume how m’feeling, or how I want to spend my time, just like I can’t read your mind about what's got you upset, innit?”

He paused.

“And it’s like, we’ve gotta figure it out together, don’t we?”

You nodded.

“So when -if, you’re feelin like that again, you’ll tell me? Even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings, or whatever. And if you need to go spend extra time with your mates to feel alright, we’ll sort it. And I’ll do the same. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"You promise?"

You promised, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and chin against his head. With the most difficult part of the conversation over, your senses opened up enough beyond Marcus to notice that the sound of rain outside had ceased. The wet, grassy smell of his training kit finally entered your nose, and your good humor began to stretch its legs.

“So I don’t need to go pack my things?” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“No.” Marcus snorted. “Not unless you changed your mind the last 15 seconds.”

“Nah, I reckon I’ll stay. I'd miss the jacuzzi tub too much.” You sighed. “Saying no to that bath with you was the hardest thing I ever done.”

Marcus chuckled, enough air in his chest to do so now, and kissed you lightly on the lips.

“Fancy one now?” He repeated, and your “please” was fast and enthusiastic. He scooped you in his arms, and you held tight to him, murmuring quiet “I love you”s and knowing as you walked through the house –your house– that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

#marcus rashford x oc #marcus rashford x reader #marcus rashford x you #marcus rashford fanfiction #marcus rashford imagine #footballer x you #footballer x reader #football imagine #football fanfic

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snifekinner · 1 year ago

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For the friendship ask: 1-10 for the baltic trio :)

happily :)

1. who brings the most drama to the table?

raivis spirals really easily so it's usually him although it's never anything serious, just, "i sat up for 36hrs straight and now im convinced all my friends hate me for reasons i made up in my brain."

2. who always has the gossip on everyone else?

eduard. he has organised folders on his computer for all the dirt he has on people. always good to have plenty to negotiate with. tolys is sometimes like, "hey we don't have beef, couldn't you delete the stuff about me?" and ed is like. "nah. i like to cover all potentialities."

3. who is the one everyone goes to for advice?

usually tolys. raivis likes asking both of them at once because then he gets two different takes (all data is useful) but tolys is more likely to be sympathetic about his problems. ed is very much a 'fixer' and not great at validating emotions.

4. who is the one who gets dunked on the most?

i don't think they go in much for ripping on each other in general but there's a fairly equal split. probably leans slightly more towards tolys because it's pretty hard to get under ed's skin and raivis is too easily set off on one of his anxiety spirals. whereas it's almost guaranteed that at some point while they're hanging out tolys will do something which makes ed and raivis go, "ok MUM."

5. who borrows everyone else's stuff all the time?

tolys; he doesn't necessarily borrow stuff but he'll pick up things lying around and just use them whether he knows who owns it or not. his defence is, if you leave it lying around then it's fair game. raivis constantly loses his pens and they all end up in tolys' pockets.

6. who is the peacemaker?

eduard has a very grounded, level-headed attitude which snuffs out arguments before they can really get started. again his 'fixer' behaviour coming in. also very straightforward about calling it as he sees it. the type to say in an infuriatingly calm tone, "let's not be over-emotional about this."

7. whose house do they hang out at the most?

between ed and tolys. raivis' place is always a huge mess and the other two can't be there without getting stressed. raivis would prefer to drive or get a train across the border than clean his house. he lives in a state of semi-organised chaos where he can locate the exact tool he needs from a drawer full of them but has no idea where he put his clean laundry. he's had the backs off most of his electronics and some of them still only semi-work. it's kind of a death trap in there.

8. who always demands they take a selfie and who complains about it every time?

tolys always wants to take photos and eduard always complains about it.

9. who is the biggest liability when drunk?

lmao eduard. the other two can handle their drink; eduard is kind of a lightweight (in comparison) and he spends so much time being calm and diplomatic that when he's drunk there's a strong likelihood he'll just go tell everyone exactly what he thinks of them. it's very, "he's going to say the wrong thing to someone and end up getting punched."

10. who is the one who flakes out of plans last minute?

raivis. not intentionally, he'll be hyperfixated on something and completely forget about their plans. tolys isn't flaky but he is chronically late for everything.

#hws baltics #hws latvia #hws estonia #hws lithuania #thanks for the ask!

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cazort · 1 year ago

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So, while I mostly agree with this, I want to add some clarification because I can see people interpreting it in a way I disagree with.

I have known a few people who have been homeless for varying periods of time, often staying at homeless shelters where spaces were shared with other homeless residents, and a key complaint that people have when homeless, is about people stealing and/or damaging their possessions, and a huge portion of the time people do this, the people who stole or damaged their stuff were on drugs.

Drugs can contribute to people hurting others in multiple ways:

People with strong addictions can steal in order to buy drugs or alcohol to get their next fix, and they often are thinking so short-sightedly and selfishly that they might steal something that is worth 10 times as much to the person they steal it from, as they are able to sell the item for. So for example a person might steal the tools a person uses to work and then sell them for pennies on the dollar, or a person might steal a coat that fits someone perfectly and is ideally-suited to their lifestyle and needs, and that they took a long time to obtain even if it doesn't have much cash value.

People on drugs can be incoherent and damage things because they're not thinking straight. I know people who have had people pee, vomit, or defecate on their belongings, other times smash breakables, tear clothing, or otherwise ruin perfectly good and important material possessions, with no benefit to themselves or others.

People on drugs can create more need for staff to clean up spaces including sleeping spaces, bathrooms, and other common areas. A person can trash a bathroom in minutes in such a way that would take hours to clean up. These behaviors are not always tied to drugs but they are often more likely when people are on drugs, and certain types of drugs can also create biohazards like sharps and/or blood if people are injecting drugs, or can create fire hazards if people are smoking drugs. This can even be an issue with relatively "harmless" drugs like weed. I know a two-story home that was burned down because someone was smoking weed in bed. I also had experiences in college with people trashing living spaces, breaking full-length windows, damaging bathroom fixtures, starting fires, and I got injured when one fixture fell off on my foot after someone else had messed with it. Even when a fire doesn't damage a building, sprinkler systems can damage a bunch of people's possessions. Some drugs, like PCP, are especially likely to induce people to engage in bizarre, destructive acts.

The drug trade, especially for harder drugs like crack and heroin, can often attract and facilitate violence. I know people who have never used or sold drugs, who were shot because of drug violence. People around drug gangs often fear for their life when they start to see hard drug use move into their community, social circles, or physical spaces where they spend time. Even if a person using drugs is not directly harming anyone at the present, a lot of homeless people want a space to live, bathe, and sleep where people around them are not using drugs, particularly drugs like heroin and crack.

When these things happen to homeless people, it hits harder. Having your only coat stolen in winter can put your life at risk. Having your tools stolen can take you from an upwards financial trajectory where you might be earning and saving money, and hurl you into a downward spiral. Having someone physically harm you and/or steal other key possessions might be a blow you cannot recover from, especially if you are already struggling with homelessness on top of physical disability and/or a chronic illness like cancer. And if a shelter's space is trashed or destroyed, even temporarily, it adds additional strain and stress to a lot of people who are already intensely struggling. The sort of inconveniences that were annoying to me when they happened to me living in a college dorm, could be debilitating to homeless people who now get pushed out of yet another warm, dry place to sleep.

Yes, I agree with the sentiment here, but also, agreeing with this sentiment doesn't mean that we can solve all the homelessness problems by just forcing all shelters or assistance programs to accept people regardless of whether or not they are sober or on drugs.

A major problem in homeless shelters is that the shelters struggle to keep some residents from hurting others, and a large portion of the harm here is driven by drugs.

Shelters kicking out and/or turning away people who are drunk and/or on drugs or have severe problems with alcoholism or addiction is not usually driven by a desire to hurt these people. It is a harm-reduction strategy that is driven by a desire to protect the other residents and ensure that the shelter's or program's resources are put to use actually helping people and not just burned up cleaning up messes created by isolated destructive acts.

Many shelters have more people wanting to stay at them than they have space. Nearly all shelters have limited resources including staff and budgets and they are often stretched thin. Every bit of damage done, every mess the staff needs to clean up, takes resources away from forward-looking improvements that would improve the quality-of-life and prospects of the people staying at the shelter or benefiting from the program or community space.

Protecting homeless people from others who would harm them, and protecting the staff of organizations that help the homeless from being harmed by others, are two important goals here.

Yes, we can still think people deserve help even if they aren't sober, but we also need programs in place to keep people who are using alcohol and/or other drugs from hurting others and/or causing massive, unnecessary, and disproportionate drains on resources.

fnb memphis

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episbep · 2 months ago

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seven days clean (again)

against my will may I add lol- I’ve tried to pick up for the last 3/4 days to no avail which I am pleased about now that the worst of the cravings have passed but also that mental obsession is still here in full force and I just wanna get high despite being so aware and certain of how much better sober life was/is. I’m falling back into a life of addiction with short periods of sobriety, but that is not the same thing as recovery. I’ve basically stopped going to meetings, I don’t have a sponsor, I’m not working the steps…I’ve been drinking Smirnoff ice (???)…life definitely isn’t as bad as it was pre-rehab when I was using every single day but I’m still chasing drugs/intoxication…I’ve been mugged off for £100 lmao (it’s not rly funny tho is it the first time I sent over £60 and he aired me for almost 2 days then got back to me like ‘oh I got nicked with it sorry’ then the next day I sent another £40 and was another day til he got back in touch, apparently he’d slept the whole day and now he’s fallen off the face of the earth again hehe haha I’m a fucking mug🤪)

spending far too much time thinking about my ex and tryna see/speak to him as often as possible, eating like shit, gaining weight again, my skins a state, I haven’t worn makeup or nice outfits for weeks I’m just, idk I’m not progressing I’m not recovering I’m just not back in full blown active addiction yet but given the means and opportunity I have no doubt that I would be…

On the plus side things in the bigger picture are getting better, the consequences of my past use are subsiding, I’m able to cope day to day and convince others enough that I am making progress and not actively using. My house is clean, I’m attending relationship therapy and mood management groups, I’m getting back into the swing of day to day life but in a healthier way, not sleeping all day, not wishing I was dead…idk, I’m struggling to see the brighter side of things- I had an issue with re-ordering my prescription and only have 3 days worth left now so didn’t take it yesterday which evidently was a huge mistake, bc I’m spiralling now, I’m stressing out, I don’t feel good. (also period is imminent which never helps and there’s a full moon so yh)

#addiction recovery #I can’t help but feel that there really is quite a lot fundamentally wrong with me as a person #I need to get back to Sunday eve meetings #I’m going to my home group tomorrow night hopefully that will help #sobriety #recovery

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evanoxvt · 7 months ago

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A recent trip to the dentist...with my service dog!

I know I can get ranty, so let's get all the boring stuff out of the way first!

As many people may know, I have a ton of health issues, ranging from physical to mental. This rant will primarily be discussing my anxiety and my ADHD, ASD, & PTSD to some extent, but again, it primarily leans towards my anxiety.

I have a service dog, whom on my stream is dubbed "Town Crier" due to a few reasons. This is partly because she is a husky mix, but mostly due to my PTSD and deep need for privacy when I originally started streaming. We also call her TC for short.

Town Crier was a pet for the first ~5 years of her life, and has been serving as a service dog for nearly 2 years (including training time). As a result she still has many pet tendencies, but there is only so much I can do when I live with 7+ other people whom do not treat her like a service animal with a job. I focus on making sure she can & does do her job correctly and that she does not react to other animals negatively when out of the house. As she is a psychiatric service dog and I can only do so much in my situation I do feel bad that she is not always up to standards, but I need her to do her job more than I need her to be perfect for public perception. Main mistake she makes is constantly asking for pets, and sometimes trying to sniff for food in public. To avoid making this a run on section, we can talk about this another day.

Usually I go to the dentist 2x a year, and the first 3 times I had her sit in the lobby with someone I brought with me. This most recent time however was different from all of the other appointments.

My biggest fear of having a service dog while at the dentist is that I will need to command her to do something while they are in my mouth. I never felt like she was prepared enough for a proper dentist appointment, this time included which is why I bring someone with me to hold on to her in the lobby. I'm never fucking doing that again, not after my recent experience.

How my usual dentist appointments go:

I walk in, (sometimes we do xrays, other times we don't), sit down, and they begin cleaning my teeth. If I get xrays, I have to struggle for my life because I have EXTREMELY bad gag reflex and the xray thing in your mouth really starts this issue up. After xrays we go straight into the cleaning. Now, I have alot of anxiety and the way it works at the dentist, it becomes a huge downwards spiral.

For one, I don't know wtf to do with my hands, so I'm usually gripping the little bib thing for dear life with both my hands, as if not doing so is gonna literally be the death of me. YES I END UP WITH A DEATHGRIP ON IT. Secondly, I have a hard time breathing once I am conscious of my breathing. This goes into a downward spiral in and of itself very quickly, but add in my bad gag reflex which makes it much worse? Yea, we now have anxiety plus anxiety to the tenth or something. Add in that I can feel everything they're doing and that it all sounds so loud that it could split boulders in half? Yea, not a good sensory place for my ASD to be. Oh and I mentioned ADHD, yea, I feel the endless need to fidget and move and can't relax while I'm there.

I usually leave dentist appointments very stressed out and uncomfortable.

How this last dentist appointment went:

I walk in, leave my SD in the lobby with my grandma, brush my teeth and while going to sit down at the chair my SD was whining quite a bit. My dentist asked me if she needs to come in with us and I expressed my worry about needing to tell her to do stuff while they were in my mouth, but (ironically off topic) they said they'd just need to clean up any fur she shed....

So we brought her back, and she was on the left side of my chair. I have an incredibly short leash for "walking" and a "normal" short leash for when I'm sitting around somewhere for longer periods of time (ie. restaurants, movie theaters, etc.) so that she can lay down, sit, or adjust herself as she pleases. I had both leashes on her at the time, and had the handle of the longer one under me on this chair.

I experienced 2 different realities during this dentist visit. REALITY reality, and in MY BRAIN reality.

In REALITY reality, she tried wandering a little bit from time to time and I snapped my fingers to tell her to return to my hand, sometimes tried pushing through my hand to go to the rest of the dentist office, but mostly stayed standing against my hand that was petting her. I was petting her neck/front chest area the entire time.

Usually I need to raise my right hand several times during the cleaning because of my gag reflex. Despite them knowing and working on my teeth for years, this still happens because there's the normal level of my gag reflex, and the spikes. They have learned the ques for my regular level of gag reflex, but the spikes are kinda like lag spikes in a game and can't be anticipated easily. During this visit, I only had to do this once. Moreover they actually had to tell me to close my mouth for the suction thingie which is unusual, but was due to me nearly falling asleep while they were cleaning my teeth.

In MY BRAIN's reality, I was just petting my dog, and suddenly I was just surrounded by this warm long fur blowing in the wind with this gentle warm light glowing down on me. Anyone who's watched Fairy Tail will know the Golden Grasslands scene, and it was like I was laying down on the grass there (but it was fur not grass in my mind). For those who aren't familiar with this, I added an image for you!

When you combine these two realities you get an unexpected truth: albeit Town Crier is not perfect, she does her job beautifully none the less. Moreover, this is the first time I have a solid "event" where I can explain to someone how she does her job. Usually I can at best describe what it is like when she either does not come with me, or cannot do her job... but for once I have such a vivid before vs after experience I can share to show just what a difference she makes.

People have criticized me so many times before because I could not describe exactly what or how she does her job (as task names weren't enough for them). I get that I am not good at explaining it, and I get that alot of people don't understand how she (a psychiatric service dog) is any different from an ESA (emotional support animal) even when I explain to them that its her tasks that make her a SD vs an ESA... blah blah blah. We don't need to hear about all the haters, because the point of all of this is that SHE MAKES A HUGE DIFFERENCE, and now I have something so vivid and clear to use as my example of what she does that it just makes me feel a tiny bit more secure when we go about our day.

Small anecdotes:

People have told me that "She can't possibly be a service dog, her vest is blue not red!" - False, "The ADA does not require service animals to wear a vest, ID tag, or specific harness." In fact, if it were to impede in the dog's ability to do their job, they are not required to wear ANYTHING AT ALL. However, most service dog handlers choose to have them marked for a slightly easier time when in public spaces, especially in accessibility or to aid in reducing the frequency of the general public interfering with their job. Often you will see "service dog" or "do not pet" on vests worn by them, and many will have additional information on them (I only have a basic harness... might make my own custom one someday).

People have mentioned time and time again "She must be a service dog, she can walk in those shoes normally/ 'my dog would just throw them off'." AGAIN this is false, a dog walking in shoes does NOT make the training thus whether she has her booties on or not does not make her a service dog or not.

Lastly, this is a new one for me, "We recently had a dog come in here, and bit one of our staff, it must make it so hard on real groups like yours." *walks to table as we are chatting, and tells my dog to go under the table* "SEE, the fakes don't even ask their dog to go under, real service dogs ALWAYS go under." As much as I appreciated that she could differentiate between the fakes and real ones based on behavior, my dog cannot always safely sit under the table, or sometimes needs to be on the outside of an area (like the table). I have specifically had issues with her fitting under 2 specific tables at that restaurant and do not try to force her under those ones. When possible for EVERYONE'S SAFETY, especially TC's, I do have do go under the table. However, some restaurants really don't do a good job at cleaning under their tables so she often gets into food I'm unaware of, almost got cut by glass a few times, and just gets trampled on by those I am out with (on accident). It's a really tough balancing act, but again I do really appreciate that the waitress saw that she was trained differently than the average dog.

A side note/afterstory:

I go to the same salon every 3 weeks, and this past visit I had to come in but did not have my service dog vest on hand. They knew who we were and let her in anyways, much to the confusion of the 2 men in the waiting area. She basically acted the same, although she let husky brain take over while we were waiting a few times. I'm working on getting her to stop wandering a little, especially in familiar locations but as I can limit her movements and it does not interfere with her ability to do her job it is lower on my priority list of behaviors to either maintain or work on.

Questions? Answers? Words that occur?

Want to hear more? Ask me anything on my Tellonym! I will be answering everything when I return to streaming and making a post along with it!

#invisible disability #autism #adhd #audhd #service dog #disabled streamer #small streamer #tellonym #chronic illness #chronically ill #multiple sclerosis #invisible illness #autoimmune #chronic fatigue

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sleepydrabbles · 1 year ago

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And please for the love of god do it even when your anxiety says they don’t.

I can already hear someone yelling “how tf do I know if it’s anxiety or not”

Here’s the thing: actions do speak louder than words, and sometimes anxiety speaks louder than actions. Funnily enough, you can beat it at its own game.

Keep in mind this is what worked for me. I HOPE it works for you, but if it doesn’t I’m sorry. I’m not a therapist, just a very anxious person.

So first: pattern recognition. Anxiety recognizes patterns, but it recognizes all patterns as bad and dangerous. Go for the jugular and question it (it’s exhausting, I know, I kNOW.)

Anxiety also creates patterns. I know when I’m about to freak because the world fuzzes out, sentences start to slip in one ear and out the other, and I become more sensitive to having my ‘bubble’ invaded. I don’t get the stomach cramps. Idek who gets stomach cramps. If you do I’m sorry. Heart palpitations are rare and a huge red flag. For me my biggest tell is this: I’m presented with the opportunity to interact, and the lizard brain kicks in. It does not matter if every interaction for the past three weeks or more has been positive. I am suddenly convinced they hate me. There is no actual evidence, ever. It’s always some small random thing. “They haven’t texted today” but when they DO text, there’s a jolt of pure fear (which for me means avoidance, I usually close whatever app I’m using and turn off my phone so they can’t realize I was active). Know your patterns.

Also, recognize you don’t always have to force yourself to push through the anxiety. Frankly, every time I do I’m exhausted, and although I have very kind, sensitive friends who recognize when I’m in low-power mode and work with it, I still deal with a lot of guilt around the idea that it could take so much energy to be around people I love so much, who also love me as much as OP has said. If you know that that guilt will send you into a spiral, don’t force yourself. Leave the interaction for later if you can.

But! One rule for letting yourself avoid!

Make a promise to yourself (and yourself ONLY) that you’ll interact with them once it’s over. From my experience, you’ll feel super nervous and scared for a few minutes, and then as you realize that the friend is still being their lovely wonderful self the anxiety will recede for a moment, and it’ll be okay again.

Once again, my experience. But the key here is self-compassion. Love yourself enough to know your own patterns, tics, and triggers, and to step away from people when you need it. Love yourself enough to also gently rustle yourself out of bed (even if you have to roll like a hot dog in a convenience store, fall on the floor, and pretend to fight your blankets before you can stand up!), get clean (whatever that means for you- for me it means a full shower but goddamn if that doesn’t take AGES, and I know people who have less energy than I do during episodes), and go see one person who, logically (the logically bit is important!) cares very deeply about you. Even if seeing them is starting the weirdest conversation you’ve ever started.

I know, I know, every day’s a battle, but you’ve won the war so far. Let yourself take this next battle at your pace. Control what flow you can, and if you can’t, be gentle. Coming from someone who tried the cold water method for getting out of a dissociative anxiety attack, being gentle takes more time and it’s a lot harder, but it makes coming up out of the muck wayyyyyy less stressful.

To condense this advice: act like you’re taking care of a scared toddler. That’s really what anxiety is. A scared toddler looking for a little safety. Dunking the toddler in a cold bath might work, but they’d probably also scream and cry and howl for hours after. Warm bath, auditory control, safe foods, an environment you know, and a person you can trust. I’ve gone through periods where I have to do it every night, but I’d rather do it every night than, well… (war flashbacks to the ice water shower) yeah.

For goodness sakes, my dearest ones, spend your time with people who like you. People who listen when you speak, who are happy to hear from you, who laugh with you, who care about the things you care about, simply because it's you who cares about them. Surround yourself with people who get excited for your successes, people who mourn your losses, who sing your praises! Fill your days with people who make small talk, who ask you how you are, and who care, truly care, about the answer. Spend your evenings with people who talk about how beautiful the moon is, how deep the ocean, how the sunlight shifts across the bright leaves of trees as the wind rustles through...

My darlings, please, for the love of all that's good, spend your time with people who like you.

#mental health #anxiety #personal experience #my methods aren’t perfect #but they keep me safe and sane #and that’s really all you can ask from a method #is that it not create new harm to replace prior harm #you got this #hang in there #it’s gonna be okay #give yourself a toddler night #eat the dumb food combo and sit in the bath until it turns cold #wear the fluffy pajamas if possible #make a blanket nest #if it’s embarrassing as hell then uhhhh #my only suggestion is to liken it to your favorite fanfic trope #and go from there

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cellsshapedlikestars · 2 years ago

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Hello! I saw your post last night about anxiety, and wanted to reach out. I’m so sorry you had such a bad day, and on your birthday too! I hope today is better for you and that you treat yourself to something special.

This is none of my business and please, feel free to delete this—I don’t want to stress you further— but your post made me want to say something because my son who suffers from OCD has been going to “cognitive behavioral therapy” (CBT) and it has helped him so much. We visited a few therapists before picking one he was comfortable with, and after only a few months seeing her, it has made a huge difference for him.

I know some people don’t find therapy helpful, so it may not be the answer for you, but I thought I’d mention it because even though he still has anxiety and the accompanying behaviors, he is much more relaxed in general, far happier, and has some tools to help him navigate his fears when he’s in a difficult situation. This type of therapy may not be an option for you (insurance doesn’t always cover it and it is so expensive), but after seeing how much it has helped him, I wanted to mention it.

Your stories have touched me so deeply, and I hope you know how many of us have found comfort during trying times in the worlds you’ve created for us. You have a beautiful mind and a true gift. I’m so thankful for you. May this year bring many wonderful things into your life.

Happy Birthday! 💛💛💛

WELL I'M CRYING AGAIN ANON

No, seriously, this is very sweet. I will say, I'm usually *much* better at handling my anxiety. Yesterday was just sort of a spiral for me. I spent my week off work taking 2 cats to the vet, my car for an inspection, and now the one cat has to go in for surgery (just for a teeth cleaning, but they still have to put him under) and I'm stressed about how much money that all cost & how much I will have to spend on the surgery (which I WILL do because I want my good good boy to have clean teeth and no gum disease!!). Plus, he has to go under! And he gets so stressed going to the vet, it makes me so sad. All that combined with the fact that my coworkers decided to still text me on my days off about work problems that I'll have to deal with when I go back made for a bad day.

Otherwise, I had a very nice dinner with my family and a few other dinners during the week with my friends and those were lovely.

I got my medical marijuana card a few months ago and that's been helping a ton with my anxiety, and my sleep. I've also identified a lot of my anxiety triggers and have started to be better at recognizing the start of a spiral. Some days neither of those things help and I have a bad day. Luckily, they're coming fewer and further between these days.

I appreciate the concern, anon. I forgot to delete those tags last night cause I took my troche and went to sleep, but the reason I usually do delete posts/tags where I mention how bad my anxiety gets sometimes is because it's usually pretty short lived (the very bad spirals) and I don't want anyone to worry!

#cellsshapedlikeasks

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threewaysdivided · 2 years ago

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Genuinely, this. As someone who hit major burnout last year because I also tried to double-book all my free time with chores and "adulting" while also working an under-resourced, overloaded, administratively broken job with an undermining, unsupportive boss (which thankfully is over now, but certainly played its part in contributing to the problem), not making space for rest and media is going to cook your brain.

I get the guilt thing, really, I do. A huge part of why I basically didn't touch my game console at all (or even sit down to watch TV unless a friend made me) was that I felt like I had to be maximally productive every minute of the day. It can get genuinely paralyzing, thinking about all the stuff that would be "a better use of your time" or outstanding chores/ projects. Can't sew because you really should to the ironing first, can't iron because that means setting up the board when the floors need cleaning, can't clean the floors because you need to cook and that's going to make them dirty, can't cook because you really need to water the plants first... this kind of guilt-spiral will push literally everything out, and god forbid you want to do something "unproductively fun" like game or watch TV or write your fic. It's like gas; it will expand to fill any space you let it get into.

Thing is though, decompression is important. Rest is important. Your brain needs the break.

You can't work/housework until you drop, then go to bed with a notebook and try to write fic while falling asleep. I know: I've tried it. Doing this shit completely atrophied my creative side until I ended up not being able to write anything I was happy with and spending more time being compulsively annoyed at terrible sequels to a thing I liked than thinking about my projects or the things I actually enjoyed. Don't be like me, kids!

But that's not really gonna get rid of the guilt. So here's some stuff that helped me:

It's okay if stuff doesn't always get done on time. Some of the chores need to get done eventually, but a lot of stuff can be delayed or broken down into smaller bits. Half-assed is better than no-assed. You can live with stuff not being perfect. Your laundry hamper will not summon the apocalypse. Can't clean the whole house? Fine: just take out the bins, and maybe mop the kitchen floor if it's getting gross. Can't iron? rewash the clothes that don't need it, you can wear them until then. Can't cook? It's okay to order in sometimes, or pickup go-meals from the store or have toast for dinner.

It's okay to let some stuff go for a while. I bought fabric for pants in late 2021 - I didn't sew those pants until late 2022. It's fine. Some things pick their own hour and their own season. It gets done when it gets done.

Fan-stuff is a Hobby. Don't get hung up on "output" or "engagement". This has been a big one for me too. I take ages to update my own long-fic and last year I ended up putting tonnes of pressure on myself to always be drafting, always respond to comments; being compulsively on tumblr hoping people would ask me things and then feeling like I needed to stay up 'til 2am answering them when they did. I was chasing connection because I felt miserable and ended up making that connection another thing to stress over. Not healthy. Fandom is a more collaborative hobby, but it's still a hobby - if writing or posting is stressing you out then put it down like you would any other hobby. You do not need to get a "good grade" in it.

You need to rest and take breaks for your health, so schedule it in. Make it part of whatever list system or chores roster you keep. (Also, if you have a schedule, remember to include the incidental stuff you do that your brain might be tempted to gloss over as "not work". If you're feeling this much pressure then you're probably doing a lot of routine work that you take for granted.) Here's the one I ended up sticking to my wall:

(Notice how I've got reading time actively booked in there, as well as a bunch of things that are tiny but that add up to a fair bit of time and feel good to tick off. I laminated mine so I could actually tick them off with marker and remind myself how much I'd done.)

Seriously, if you're this overbooked, block in your rest and fun time. Block in 30 minutes when you get off work where you can go "okay, I can game now, this is my game time, I don't need to do anything except game for the next 30 minutes", or some time during the week to catch a show or see a movie or read a book.

And look, you're still probably going to feel guilty about it when you first try to make change. If you've been locked into the "if you're not working on something you're wasting time" mindset, it can take a while to unlearn. That's just something you'll need to stick out until your brain gets used to the new paradigm.

You're a human being; basically an ape with higher fine motor skills and enough intelligence to give yourself anxiety. Your body needs sleep. Your brain needs to disengage. These aren't optional: they're biological requirements.

Don't punish yourself for being stressed by denying yourself the things that help you de-stress. It won't help.

And more to the point, you deserve better 💚

i literally cant remember the last time i played a video game and i've been wanting to SO BADLY LATELY but i have so little free time these days that if i don't spend the free time i have working on my fic i feel guilty bc it's still on hiatus after two months (and i keep receiving comments reminding me abt it.) HOW do u get past the guilt

#self-care #mental health #I remember being at This EXACT POINT a few months ago #thinking 'I haven't played a videogame all year' and wanting to cry about it #please just play your game. watch your show. your other hobbies can wait.#As someone who has also been down in these trenches #burnout sucks a metric tonne of ass #recognize self-denial as a form of self-punishment #3WD

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mego42 · 3 years ago

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Meggggg I was just musing on something and decided to send an ask because I LOVE ASKING YOU ALL YOUR OPINIONS.

Ok so I always see people mention that rio was crying In the club ™️ because he thought Beth and nick slept together. I get lost as to why people make this assumption though. At the start of the episode nick is asking rio for advice on a very clear problem: how to get Beth to agree to run for city council. Rio gives his smug hair-pulling advice as the solution to the problem. Beth agrees to run at end of episode and nick sends rio the bottle complete with “for pulling her hair” note. (Because he thinks Rio pulling her hair via strip strip coercion meant that Beth was won over by nick’s romancing tactic in comparison?? Because he thinks Rio’s hair pulling tactic convinced Beth to run? I’ve never totally known).

This bottle is clearly celebrating Beth deciding to run for council? It was the hurdle nick was facing at start of episode, and the one he’s jumped by the end. I’m so confused why people think rio thinks it means nick and Beth slept together?!???? What am I missing?? What do you think??

My hot take was that rio knew it meant Beth had agreed to run and while Rio had been all talk up to that point about being FINE SO FINE about nick using Beth for his plans, when the event itself actualized, he realizes he’s very NOT ok with nick using Beth or working with Beth or getting close to Beth or spending time with Beth, especially in light of the fact that nick has been kinda overt about his intention to also hit on Beth as part of the above. (The very next rio and Beth scene is the next episode when Rio can barely contain his “so WHY do you want this, what’s in it for you” question.) cue rio in his feels crying in the club and the true turning point for Rio in his decision to take nick down.

This was meant to be two sentences. Oops.

hahahahahaha NO OOPS I LOVE IT!!!!!!

personally, i think i'm in line with you? i never thought rio took the bottle as notice that beth and nick slept together as much as confirmation from nick that she was running aka nick had his hooks in her now (or so he thinks). my take was rio's angst came from seeing where that path could lead, and it's almost more worrisome than just beth and nick potentially sleeping together for someone who's in big fat stupid love with beth like rio is.

more so than money, rio knows beth's horny af for power, control, and respect. his ability to give her all of the above is a huge part of what attracted her to him in the first place and all three of those are things nick/city council are able to give her with a crucial difference of not coming equipped with all of the bloody baggage and bitter history beth and rio have accumulated between them.

i always thought he's crying in the club bc he's looking at that bottle and seeing a future where beth's able to get everything rio's been able to give her from nick and she cuts rio out/leaves him/chooses nick. why wouldn't she? as far as rio knows, beth has no idea he's playing her and again, he and beth have all that baggage making nick look like a much less complicated option on paper. additionally, it's compounded by the fact that nick's got a history of taking what rio has/loves, so (i think) he's afraid that if presented with that opportunity, nick's gonna go for it/her just to mess with rio.

which brings me back around to what i ultimately loved so much about the love triangle (beyond the sheer delight i took from watching rio lose his ding dang mind and spiral his way into proposing): the way the contrast between rio and nick highlighted beth's feelings.

if money, power, control, and respect were all beth was after, she could've made her life a hell of a lot less complicated and turned on rio after he gave her what she needed to get nick out of the way. she had all the cards, she had the line on the secret service, and she decided to protect rio (and if there was any doubt, the show made sure to explicitly underline it with that beat between nick and dave where dave said rio had something nick didn't and then they cut straight to beth)

AND THEN, just in case anyone was like well yeah but she was all pissed off about nick lying to her blah blah blah, the show went for the compare/contrast again and set up (what seems to beth like it might be) a betrayal from rio with mick and the gun, and beth chose to protect him again!!!!! and then they made it explicit again with her and ruby and annie where beth flat out tells them sure rio might have had me shot but it was a flesh wound so basically he loves me and i'm not saying i love him too but i am saying i'm giving up all of our plans and a stress-free life with a clean slate in favor of criming with him until death do us part bc actually i am kind of saying i love him too

at the end of the day, beth wants rio, not just the money/power/control/respect. it's personal for her too, and she chose rio and the twisted, complicated mess between them bc she's just as in it with him as he is with her thank you and good night.

#sorry this took a turn at the end bc i too am in my feelings #i feel like we don't spend enough time talking about how monumental that last convo with beth and ruby and annie was #like we all talk a big game about wanting them to talk about beth and rio and they uh #kind of did #in a p big not sweeping things under the rug way #ANYWAY #oops my own self this got long #long post #beth x rio #nbc good girls #gg 4x13 #gg 4x16 #shut up meg

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revenant-dumpster-fire · 3 years ago

Text

Flower (Revenant x Reader)

[For AO3 archive, click here.]

Theme: Loneliness and depression are a painful but wicked combination after you have to talk about your past when you don’t want to. No matter how optimistic your friends might be, it doesn’t really fix anything.

Warnings: Graphic content, references to sex, references to past assault, references to noncon, male dominance, threats of violence, descriptions of violence, sharp objects, pain, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar, depression, mania, fluff.

Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is female.

Writing Notes: What the fuck is a plot?

Navigation:

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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You wake up to the sun fully over the skylight window, shining brightly into your eyes. You groan as you realize what time it must be. Closing your eyes only reminds you how thin your eyelids are, as the only color you see is a fleshy red rather than the lovely darkness you wish you could experience. You pull your arm over your eyes and experience the darkness again, if only for a few precious moments.

As you come to, you remember what you did last night and feel a weird sense of concern overcome you. That wasn't a dream, was it? You are lying here without clothes on, after all, and you don't exactly feel clean either. It definitely happened. You panic a little and jolt up in bed, holding the blanket to cover you as you scan the room. You're alone, and there's no sign of where Revenant could be.

You review the events of yesterday to yourself. You remember Revenant taking apart his old chassis and saving some of the parts from it. You remember teasing him until he tied you to a chair using his scarf, although you remember kinda deserving that. You snicker to yourself, remembering how he called you a "bully" to Sherry. Yes, you definitely bullied the giant, metal simulacrum built to kill. You remember Revenant left you pizza that was good enough that a blatant murder couldn't distract people from it, and then you remember chasing it down with too much vodka. You remember Revenant covered in blood at some point after that, then Pathfinder showing up, then falling asleep alone...? That last bit doesn't make much sense, but there was probably a decent reason for all those things happening together. Then you remember waking up in the middle of the night and definitely remember Revenant gently loving on you to the fullest extent.

You've never actually thought you'd be open to sex at all. Especially considering all you've been through, it's amazing you trusted Revenant enough to let him do that to you. You take a deep breath to yourself. It's too easy to be anxious about experiences like this, especially when they tread such a close line to your past traumas. In reality, you don't regret anything, you've just surprised yourself. The main concern now is why would Revenant run off immediately after a night like that?

Maybe you'll feel better after a shower and cleaning stuff up a bit. After all, you've learned that dwelling on discomfort only leads to more confusion and generally a breakdown. That's the last thing you need right now. No need to ruin something that should be a positive experience with an anxiety-riddled spiral into depression. Imagine losing your mind all because Revenant had some errand to run today. That would be silly.

You get out of bed and scurry to the bathroom, finding some used towels hanging to dry. You're not sure if they're the ones you used or the ones he used, but it doesn't really matter. He's made of metals, plastics, silicones, and PVCs. It's not like his towels are going to have anything gross on them. You grab the closest one and quickly change your mind when you notice the red streaks across it. That's blood, and it's not like it could possibly be his. You throw it to the corner of the tile floor to remind yourself to wash it later. The other towel must have been yours, because there's no blood on it and it's considerably drier than the other.

You turn the shower knobs and wait patiently for the water to warm up, taking a moment to brush your teeth while you wait. Ever since he went on a long tangent about shaving, you can't help but eye his razor case when you see it. You wouldn't dare touch it since you know how much it means to him, but you'd like to see it at some point. The steam starts to fog up the mirror, so you quickly finish with your teeth and jump in the shower. You rapidly clean yourself with as much soap as you can manage to lather into your hair and skin.

You nab the clean towel and dry yourself off, spending an excessive amount of time trying to dry your hair as much as possible. You made the right call, a hot shower helps a lot with anxiety. You leave the bathroom and rummage through your bag for the most comfortable pair of shorts and shirt you own. You notice you're a bit shaky and sore from the night before, but it's nothing you can't handle. As soon as you're dressed and your hair is brushed enough to be detangled, you consider yourself put together enough. Nothing wrong with a lax day for laundry and lounging about.

You grab the towels from the bathroom; the sheets, blanket, and pillowcases off the bed; your clothes you found in the corner of the room; a bloody old towel from the kitchenette; and a small pile of your dirty clothing from the past couple days and wrap them together in the comforter, dragging the giant makeshift bag of dirty laundry down the quiet hall into the laundry room. It seems like the trios match was as violent throughout as the ending was--there is not a soul in the hallway, meaning the infirmary must still be quite full. The only Legends you know are back from the match are the winners--Revenant, Wattson, and Wraith--as well as Pathfinder. That makes sense, after all Pathfinder just needs some repairs to be good as new since he's a MRVN, which can be performed hours after any match.

The laundry room has only one dryer running, echoing a mundane hum in the large room with the uncanny beat of the contents turning over repeatedly. You find a few washing machines in the far corner of the room and start separating the delicate items from the colors from the bleach-worthy whites. Thankfully, all the blood-soaked towels were once white, so they get a washing machine all their own along with the sheets. You pull the detergents and bleach out of the cabinet and start over-soaping all the loads, setting the timers to start each machine as they fill with hot water. Steam starts pouring into the room: commercial-quality washing machines are able to use tons of near-boiling water to sanitize anything inside of them. The room's vent fans kick in to try to keep the room's humidity low, but the fans will definitely struggle to keep up.

The door to the laundry room opens and Sherry shuffles in, bags under her eyes and likely hungover from a night of celebrating Wattson's victory. She's too foggy to notice you, so you shuffle over to her.

"Hey, Sherry! Drink too much last night?" You chime, Sherry weakly holding her head.

"Ugh, yes. And that stupid pizza didn't help. It was so perfectly greasy that I couldn't feel how drunk I was getting." She moans, making her way over to the only running dryer.

"So, this is all Revenant's fault then?"

"Absolutely, you and your stupid metal man always conspire to make me worry or drink myself into a stupor because of good pizza." She manages to put just a little sarcastic tone to her voice, but is clearly struggling through her headache. "So, why aren't you hungover? After what I saw yesterday, I was sure you'd bully Revenant into a drinking contest until he tied you to the ceiling vent."

You chuckle, it sounds almost too wild to be accurate, but you've learned that testing Revenant's limits always leads to the unexpected. Sherry continues, a sudden glint showing in her eye.

"So, since you didn't drink to celebrate, then you obviously must have--"

"Sherry--!" You try to shout over her, knowing exactly where she's going with this.

A devilish look creeps across Sherry's face, almost wiping out her hungover grimace. She dashes away from you and towards the running washing machines, leaving you stunned just long enough that you can never hope to catch her. She throws the lids open of all three, pouring steam into the room and all over her face, but she doesn't wince at all. The hot steam almost seems to invigorate her more.

"Sheets! I fucking knew it!" She laughs maniacally, her face red and moist from shoving her face in the billowing plume of vapor. She slams the lids shut, letting them clang loudly as the agitators begin to whir back to life after being interrupted. "You did it! You finally did it!" She scurries back to you with the energy and erratic movements of a cockroach, finally reaching you to shove her finger against the tip of your nose. Her wicked grin is now in full form, only enhanced by the deep purple hues under her eyes.

"Sherry, it's not that big of a--" You start, trying to be honest but not let her go where she's definitely going.

"Ohohoho, yes it is! This is proof that you can move past your assault! It's huge! It means you're working past your traumas!" Her excitement makes her sound much louder than she actually is. "And it makes me feel so much better about this whole fling you're having, since Revenant was understanding of it all." She twirls away with her arms outstretched, as if to praise some unseen angels.

"Sherry, he doesn't know." You mumble half-heartedly, hoping she might ignore you. She whips her head back in a fury, which must hurt with her hangover.

"You didn't tell him anything?!" Now she's loud. "What were you thinking?! I get that you don't need to tell just anyone, but don't you think you should have told him so he'd know to take it slow?!" She grabs you by your cheeks and pivots your head to meet her eyeline. "What if he did something that caused a breakdown?! He wouldn't have had any clue why, and he wouldn't have been able to help you!"

"Sherry, it's oka--"

"No it isn't! That's not fair to either of you! You can't just let someone go waltzing through a minefield because you're not sure how to tell them that you had some fucked up shit happen to you!" She pulls you into a massive hug, shoving your face into her chest per usual, since it naturally lands there due to your height difference.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to yell at you, but you seriously need to be careful." She softens, sighing as she realizes you're shivering a little. "Look, if you don't know how to tell him, I will do it for you."

"Thanks, but I think I have to do it." You sigh, recognizing she's right. "Honestly though, the only thing I remember is the rag and then waking up in the hospital." You pull away from her, ensuring she can hear you clearly.

"I know you may not think it's a big deal since you can't remember much, but what happened to you is absolutely traumatizing." Sherry wipes away a tear you didn't even feel escape your eyes. "Seriously, if you really like Revenant, you should tell him what you remember and what you know, even if it's hard." Now you feel the emotional hurt, and you hate this. Everything was fine, but now it isn't, and you're struggling to keep your composure.

"I wish I didn't have to. I don't like talking about it. I didn't even do anything wrong, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why do I have to confess it like it's some crime I committed? It's not fair!" Now you start to cry, and Sherry hugs you again, drying your tears with her shirt. She pets your head and hair, trying to comfort you in any way she can.

"Like I said, I'll do it if you need me to." She sighs while holding you tight. You don't intend to pull away until you've calmed yourself anyway. "I guess you don't really have to tell him, but I really think you should..." She trails off, trying to undo any harshness from before. You feel her face bury into your hair as she holds you closer.

You manage to pull yourself together, the despair slowly releasing its hold on you, even if the sense of doom does not. You have no idea how you're going to tell Revenant anything. How do you even start such a conversation? What if he thinks you should have told him before, like Sherry does? Will he feel betrayed? Or will he understand? The knot in your gut stiffens more.

Sherry holds you until you naturally pull away, rubbing your eyes and now looking worse than the hungover woman in front of you. Sherry looks at you with very concerned eyes that betray her wary smile, clearly trying to cheer your spirits despite her honest concerns.

"I'm sure it will be okay. After all, you managed to open up to him already in a way." Sherry sheepishly encourages you, placing her hand on your shoulder. She takes a deep breath, clearly feeling her aches again, but continues to try to bring you back from the brink of despair. "I bet you opened up real nice for him last night, didn't you?" Her teasing is missing its usual edge, but you can't help but appreciate her effort. You chuckle a little at how hard she tries.

"Didn't have to when he can do it for me." You banter back, taking pity on her weakened state.

"Your little rendezvous must have made quite the mess to have to wash the whole bed, huh?" You shouldn't have given her the inch, she fully plans to take a mile.

"Sherry, why must you do this to me?" You ask, rolling your eyes, turning away to help her with her laundry in the dryer. She could use the help, there's no way she feels well.

"Did he pull out? Is that why you needed to wash the whole bed?" She pauses as you actively try to ignore her, pulling her miscellaneous clothing from the dryer and placing it on top of the machine. Sherry doesn't quit. "Wait, if he's mechanical, can he even cu--"

"Sherry! That's gross!" You interrupt her.

"The pursuit of knowledge isn't gross!" Her energy is back now that she's found a foxhole she plans to dig into. "Anyways, you're the one who holds this forbidden knowledge! Now spill it!" She pauses, "Literally, if you must."

"For fuck's sake Sherry, why are you like this?!" You yell at her through a genuine laugh. No matter how gross that statement is, it is also really funny. You feel a little better, but the knot in your stomach remains.

She grabs a shirt out of the clumped up pile and folds it with zero care or grace. It might as well be a glorified knot. She puts it down and grabs for another, not caring at all to fold anything well. You help her fold, but actually do it correctly.

"So? Spill it!" She insists after making a few knotted clothes. You sigh, frustrated but unwilling to fight her.

"Yeah, I guess he had something in him. Probably the same slick stuff those synthetic refills are made of that you can get for prosthetics. Not that I could really tell anyway, it felt like any other liquid would in there." You mumble quietly.

"Heheheheh, gross." She giggles.

You throw the warm pair of pajama pants you're holding square in her face for that one.

• • • •

You're sitting on the bench in the laundry room, a pile of Sherry's properly folded clothes off to the side and Sherry herself snoring against your shoulder. She promised to stay with you while you wait for your laundry to finish, but you're not sure how helpful it is for her to snore in your ear and drool on your shoulder. She didn't manage to stay awake for long after she sat down with you, but this was inevitable with how hungover she is. Sometimes it really is best to sleep it off whenever possible, although you worry about her hydration. You'll wake her up if you really need to move, and then you'll get her a sports drink or something when you do.

At this point you've moved your laundry into a dryer. The commercial grade washing machines are insanely fast, but drying can only work so quickly. You might be here for a bit, whether you like it or not. Properly folding all of Sherry's clothes kept you occupied for a little while, but now all you have left to keep you company are your thoughts and the sounds of Sherry's snores.

You wonder to yourself why you're so worried over talking about your past with Revenant. You've been dismissive of it this whole time, but to be fair he has never pressed you on it either. You've told him you were homeless and used to date one of the other women in the shelter, but you didn't tell him that she eventually found a way out of poverty. You had to break up with her so she could move on. You didn't fully explain that your past relationship was so you could always stick together and watch out for each other. You definitely didn't tell him how you ended up homeless in the first place, and certainly not what happened to you after the breakup. In truth, you don't want to talk about it. You don't like being a victim of circumstance, modern societal failures, and a criminal underbelly that intentionally preys on people like you. Everyone who's unfortunate enough to be born into this cybernetic hellscape has a story or two that could curdle blood, and you're no different. Heck, you're sure Revenant has plenty too.

The fact of the matter is, you're alive and able to tell the tales of your past, which is better than the slew of victims, predators, and petty criminals alike that are missing or buried in shallow graves. It almost feels disrespectful to the slew of dead and abandoned individuals to complain since you've survived and gotten somewhere better. There's no way you can deny that you've won the jackpot by getting to work for the Apex Games, let alone getting hired and getting so close to one of the Legends themselves. Who are you to complain? You know that feeling shame for getting out of your situation isn't how you should feel--after all, everyone should have a right to talk about their past and experiences--but you can't shake the feeling of survivor's guilt that ebbs away at you.

You put your arm around Sherry and rub her opposite shoulder, but she doesn't wake up. She's really the reason you're out of the trenches of modern society at all. She secured you this job which gave you everything you could need, rent free. The tips from the Legends have let you save up money to escape when this opportunity falls through. Even moreso, Sherry didn't drop the offer for the job when you were hospitalized; in fact, she doubled down on making sure you got the position. You have no idea how much harder she had to work to get you here while you recovered for months, and you've always been afraid to ask. You almost don't want to know the debt you owe her, since you'd spend your whole life trying to pay her back. Sherry probably wouldn't want you to do that either; she's just so happy to have someone she can treat like a sister again.

The door to the laundry room opens again, snapping you out of you pondering.

"Skinsuit! There you are! I've been looking for you." Revenant swiftly makes his way over to you. He's holding a plastic bag, clearly with something inside. He towers over you, looking down at you and the drooling sloth latched to your side.

"Oh, sorry, I was just doing laundry." You mumble, caught in his bright, LED eyes.

"Skinsuit." He pauses, likely seeing your blank stare. You take a moment to come out of your adoring trance, shaking your head a little to clear your thoughts.

"Sorry, what's wrong?"

"We need to talk." The knot in your stomach falls deeper and yanks your gut down with it. Those are the worst words in the world, and the catastrophic thoughts in your head immediately start to wind up. Before you can even finish processing your thoughts, Revenant has picked Sherry up and off of you, laying her down on the bench. She doesn't even stir, she just snores louder now that she's lying flat. Revenant grabs your wrist and hoists you to your feet. "Come, now." His voice is so foreboding.

"Wait, the laundry isn't done yet." You pull back, resisting his grasp on you. You don't want to confront whatever he's upset about. It could be anything, and you just don't want to hear whatever words will inevitably hurt you.

Revenant doesn't release your wrist, but he grips it harder, forcing you forward and closer to him.

"I'm not asking." His eyes are terrifying points, the most intense look he can give, and he's staring straight at you. "Come. Now."

He doesn't give you time to even step forward before he starts dragging you. You trip over your feet as you try to regain your balance. He takes you out of the room and down the long hallways.

You panic. What the hell did you do? Does he regret last night? Did you accidentally hurt or insult him? What on earth does he want to talk to you about? Is he going to fire you and treat you like a nobody again? How could you possibly still work here if he cuts ties? You'll be traumatized every time you see him. What the hell did you do?

He drags you into his room. You could throw up you're so stressed. He drags you to the bare mattress and flings you down onto it. You try to fall into a sitting position, but fail and roll onto your back. He's standing over you, the intense look still hardened on his visage. He throws the bag to the side, its contents smacking the side table hard.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" You practically cry, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You hold your hands in front of you instinctively. He's breathing so rapidly, he must be livid. What the hell did you do?

"Skinsuit." His voice isn't angry, his heavy and rapid breathing isn't rage. He's clearly upset, but not enraged at you. He almost sounds sad. "Who tried to kill you?"

You hold your breath, staring at him. Time passes, but you don't know how to answer. Finally, Revenant hunches forward to get closer to you, slipping a claw under your shirt and against your abdomen.

"This isn't a surgical scar. This is a stab wound from a kitchen knife." He sounds calm again, but you're still too locked up to answer him. "I wasn't sure until I saw the other four scars."

His hands glide to another place on your abdomen on the opposite side, then to an area of your lower rib cage, a second under your breast, and one near your clavicle. He brushes each one carefully before pulling you up into a sitting position to meet his eyes.

"What happened?" His face is right in front of you. You didn't realize this is how you were going to have to tell him, let alone that the scars are what he'd latch on to. He sighs, not getting a word out of you yet.

He stands up and sits down next to you on the side of the bed. He's so damn heavy that he creates a pit in the mattress that sucks you towards him. You land against his arm, which wraps around your back and holds you close.

"Don't panic, I just want to know what happened." He states, keeping as monotone as possible. You can sense that he's actually quite upset still, but is likely trying to make sure you don't feel like the target of his ire.

You're still having trouble reigning in all the anxiety, catastrophic thoughts, depressed ideations, and traumatized fear to yourself. If you speak now, nothing is going to make sense and you might start to cry instead. His hold is reassuring, but it's not enough to stop your brain from running on all threads against your will. You feel yourself shaking against his metal frame, trying to come up with an extra bit of bandwidth to talk, but unable to muster any.

You hear him sigh as he notices you struggling. He pulls you further into the gravity sink he's created in the mattress edge and leans into you, intentionally rattling his artificial lung pumps in your ear. He gives you a few minutes to try to gather yourself before he decides to intercede.

He holds your chin and forces you to face him. His LED eyes are bright and much more relaxed than before, and the sight of him calms you down quite a bit. You almost forget what you are even thinking about; only a single, lucid line of thought still runs in your head. Your shuddering stops, and you feel clear enough to speak again. You take a deep breath, and you let yourself speak.

"Right after my ex and I went our separate ways and I met Sherry, I would walk between here and the homeless shelter so I could keep on top of getting this job." You lower your head to look away, so Revenant withdraws his hand from your chin. "I guess some gang was watching me and saw an opening one night. I got grabbed from behind and they put a rag on my face, but when I went to scream I woke up in the ICU instead." You pause. "I don't remember anything, but they told me I had been--"

"You don't have to say it." Revenant interrupts before your voice cracks from the thought. You sigh, grateful for the reprieve.

"I guess they decided to kill me and dump me in a ditch out in the Dust, probably hoping a pack of prowlers would destroy the evidence." Your voice tremolos as you struggle to put together experiences you don't remember. "They nearly succeeded. I almost bled out in the ditch, but a Hammond employee found me on his way home from a late night at the office and got me to a hospital." You feel numb, but your voice betrays you. "They destroyed one of my lungs, managed to slit open my digestive tract in a few places, barely missed both my jugular and subclavian veins at once, and hit me directly in the liver and popped one of my kidneys. I should have died."

You sit there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Revenant respects the silence and waits for you to continue.

"The Hammond employee who found me donated a bunch of their prototyped synthetic organs to replace mine. One of my lungs, one of my kidneys, and my liver are Hammond prototypes of the ones currently on the market. I also have some of their experimental silicone meshes holding together the digestive tract in the multiple places it was sliced open. I don't think I would have recovered without them."

"How are they holding up?" Revenant asks, carefully pushing his hand against your chest on the side with the artificial lung.

"I haven't noticed any problems, not to say that I know what that would feel like." You place your hand over his, gently touching the Hammond Robotics logo etched into the plate on the back of his hand. It has giant gashes in it, as if he's tried to scratch it off at some point. If this is a new chassis, he must have scratched it out very recently.

"So they used you as a guinea pig for their prototypes?" Revenant growls. "Typical."

"I never thought about it like that. It's not like I could afford synthetics anyway, let alone real ones. It felt like a blessing." You run your fingers over each jagged metal scratch on his metal plates carefully. "I would have died if Hammond hadn't donated them."

"Not to scare you, but be careful with the deals you make with those devils." Revenant's hand pushes harder into your chest.

"I didn't make any deals, I wasn't even asked. They just put them in and sewed me up." You mumble, concerned by his apparent disgust for his own manufacturer.

"Of course they didn't even ask. Silly me." His voice is low and dripping with hatred. You start to pull away from him in fear, but he notices and pulls you back gently. He wraps his arms around you completely and his chin rests on your head. You're not going anywhere at this point. "I'm not angry with you. You're a victim in all this." His voice is softer, but it's a ruse. His lungs are labored with rage and you can feel the tension in his body. You let the silence fall for a moment.

"Revenant, are you okay?" You whimper from under his grasp, unsure of yourself. You feel his fingers turn to points and grip you, but carefully angled not to puncture you.

"I have a lot of work to do." His voice is low and hateful again, his words equally as ominous. His voice jumps back to something softer to address you. "Do you remember anything about the men who chloroformed you? Or when it happened?"

"I'm sorry, it's all really fuzzy." You shake your head a little, in case he can't hear your quiet whisper. He growls, clearly caught up in his thoughts, determined to find a way to narrow down his search. "Does it really matter?" You ask, unsure of what he plans to do.

"Yes, it's important." He huffs for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I'm going to give you the entrails of every punk who violated you as a gift, and I'm going to pry Hammond's claws off of you before it's too late."

"Wait, you don't have to--"

"You used up your pardon, skinsuit. Now, I am the sole judge, jury, and executioner in this case." He sounds so livid, you can't help but shrink under him and hope none of his wrath is aimed in your direction.

The silence falls again, spare for his blood curdling huffs of rage. He slowly calms himself, likely with some kind of plan on what to do.

"Skinsuit, did they kit you when you were at the hospital?"

"Of course, but there's not a universal DNA database of criminals in the Outlands, assuming it was even entered into one at all. As a gang they might have connections. Either way, it didn't amount to anything. Plus, there was a lot of different DNA..." You trail off, shuddering at your own words and trying not to vomit up the pit in your stomach. Revenant grips you tightly in response to your quivering.

"Skinsuit, I need you to listen to me. I will handle this. I don't want you to worry about it anymore." His voice is determined and steadfast.

"I wasn't worried about it before, I just didn't know how I was going to tell you any of this." You manage to get out as you choke back stressful tears. "I was worried you'd be upset that I didn't tell you earlier."

He locks eyes with you from above, but you avert yours. His LEDs are bright enough that you know he's staring at you, trying to gauge your emotional state. Sure, maybe you are upset by the whole ordeal. Maybe it is why you struggle so much with despair. Maybe it is the event that broke you emotionally. But you don't want to dredge it up any more than you have to. It's hard enough telling him this, why does he need to make it into a mission?

"Your heart rate is spiking." You hear him dryly state. You cower deeper into his frame. "Don't be so nervous, like I said, I'll handle it from here."

Something in your head pops and you feel the unmistakable taste and heat of anger overtake you. Mania shows up for a mere few moments, in an attempt to bring righteous indignation to the fray.

"Handle what?! It's not like you can just undo what happened! What's the point? Just pretend like I didn't say anything!" You pull away from him and stand up, but he holds onto your wrist, only allowing you to get arm's length from him. "You can't just assassinate every problem into oblivion! It doesn't work like that!" You're staring down a simulacrum that has single handedly spilt more blood than in all the people you've met in your lifetime, but for this rage induced moment, you don't care. "Heck, if you really want to erase the problem, kill me! Because then nobody has to deal with it! That's what was supposed to happen! But I just had to get lucky at the worst time imaginable!" Your lungs empty out from yelling.

He reels back in shock, releasing your wrist. You have nowhere to go, so you just hover there, staring him down. In this fleeting moment, you have bested the Revenant. You are in charge, but only for a mere moment in time. The anger peters out and sadness overwhelms you in its place. Tears start flowing before you even start to vocalize your pain. The moment has ended. You hurriedly collapse to your knees on the floor and bury your face in your hands, trying to hide yourself as you cry. You hate it when this happens. Immediately after you get angry enough to snap, you regret everything and collapse into a sobbing mess. Every time. You just openly confessed you wish you had died instead. You asked Revenant to kill you instead. On top of it all, now you're crying on the floor like you didn't just say something heinous to him.

You gasp for air between your desperate attempts to suppress your cries, which leak out as sorrowful whimpers instead. You feel his palm on your head, but you can't bear to look up at him. He gives you a moment, possibly hoping you will collect yourself, but he gives up quickly. He kneels down beside you and you hear the clangs of his scarf straps coming loose. You feel his scarf wrap around your face like a hood, absorbing the wayward tears and helping hide your face. He bunches up the extra scarf around your shoulders and loosely ties the buckled straps to hold it to you. He reaches into the hood and holds your hands that are pressed against your face, intentionally fluttering his fingers around yours to wipe away tears. He withdraws, wraps his arms underneath you, and lifts you in his arms. He doesn't even struggle to lift you, remaining completely unwavering.

You feel him carry you out of the room and down the hallway, back towards the laundry room. You pull his scarf completely over your face, trying to calm your cries to be as quiet as possible. Your labored breathing is the only audible indicator of your tears now. You feel his arms push up against the swinging door to the laundry room before feeling the humidity difference wash over you as he enters. You hear the sound of Sherry still snoring on the bench. Revenant carries you towards the back of the room and gently places you on one of the still-warm dryers. You feel him open the front-loading door on the dryer and pull out the load of laundry, doing the same to the second dryer next to you. As the door clicks shut, you hear Sherry stir and wake up, moaning a little in protest.

"Oh, hey, is she okay?" She sleepily addresses Revenant.

"She needs time." A fairly honest dodge, but not really an answer to her question.

"I guess she told you while I was out, huh?" Sherry sighs, yawning afterwards. Revenant stops moving next to you for a moment.

"You knew?" He doesn't sound mad, simply intrigued.

"Of course, I lied and told them I was her biological sister so I could get into the hospital and stay with her." Sherry sounds sad, reflecting on it. "I had no idea she walked alone between here and the shelter. Had I known, I would have called a cab or just done the interviews over the phone..." She trails off, regaining her composure. "After that, I fudged everything to get her this job so she could escape that life."

"Do you remember any details of that night?" Revenant asks with piqued intrigue.

"Of course, I couldn't forget even if I wanted to." You rarely hear Sherry sound so deep in self-shame. You wish she would accept that it wasn't her fault, but you also know that's easier said than done.

"I'll speak to you about it later, then." You jump a little as his hand caresses your arm. You're too withdrawn in his scarf to see anything, so you have no warning when he touches you. Your startled wince doesn't seem to bother him, as he locks his arm around yours, allowing him to continue working with his hands. He must be folding some of the laundry, or at least trying. You can't imagine he's well-versed in the practice.

"You're going to try to find those guys?" Some hope returns to Sherry's voice.

"I will." He doesn't hesitate and he has no doubts. As an assassin he must have some sleuthing skills. He's more than proven himself to be clever, at the least. You still don't want him to bother, though. It doesn't fix what happened, but maybe it could save someone else, at the least.

"Hey! What the hell?" You hear Revenant shout as he withdraws his arm from you and staggers backwards. You pull your face out of the scarf to see Sherry hugging a very confused Revenant.

"Eviscerate them and hang them by their fucking entrails." Sherry mumbles before letting go, and turning to you. "I hope you don't mind, he earned it." She smiles through her exhausted expression, giving you a quick hug too. She pulls away and shuffles to her folded stack of laundry, picking it up and making her way out of the room. Revenant watches her exit with concentrated attention before turning to you.

"Never thought I'd have a second idiot asking me for a favor." He huffs, stepping back over to you. He reaches into the scarf and holds your cheek for a moment, locking eyes with you. "No worries though, you're my first and favorite idiot." His intense determination has melted back down to a teasing vitriol. You let your head tilt into his palm approvingly, letting some wayward tears drip onto him.

He pulls his hand back slowly, intentionally tugging the scarf back to cover your face so you can't see. You're startled when you feel a pile of warm, clean laundry land in your lap.

"Hold this." You hear him instruct as you feel him pick you back up. You wrap your arms around the pile of sheets, clothes, and towels, doing your best to prevent any from falling out of your grip. He carries you, buried in a pile of warm laundry, all the way back to the room before lightly dropping you onto the bare mattress. You let the laundry bury you, enjoying the warmth.

"Why did I even try to fold anything...?" You hear Revenant mumble as he reaches in and pulls you upright, undoing his scarf from you. You let him pull it off of you, but don't bother to watch him put it back on himself. You prefer to bury yourself back in the warm pile of clothing, messing them up further. You hear his buckles lock down on his chassis as he walks away. "I have some leads to follow up on, stay there until I find you a babysitter." The door slams before you can sit up and ask him what he means. He's already gone. He can disappear as quickly as he can appear, climbing walls and collapsing himself into vents and nooks. Even though he used the door this time, it never ceases to scare you a little.

You wish he would just stay around and not leave. Considering how hard it was to even explain what exactly happened to you when you were attacked, you had hoped he would realize being left alone is the worst possible thing. Although, maybe he does realize this, and is getting Sherry to stay with you. Still, you'd rather it be him. It feels like a cop out for him to just leave you with her, but maybe he's also dealing with some emotions too. Unfortunately, you're worried he thinks he can somehow undo everything that happened to you with a bloodbath of vengeance.

You sigh, getting up and looking at the disheveled pile of laundry. You begin to toss your wads of clothing into your duffel bag. No point in folding any of it, it's not like you own anything nice. As you pick through, some appear to be partially folded but his claws had poked some holes in them. Well, at least it's all cheap and replaceable. You toss them into the bag anyway, right now you don't have time to get new ones. You fold the towels and place them in the bathroom, nicely folded and ready to be used again. You take the one odd rag to the kitchenette, finding the drawer full of its siblings and placing it nicely.

Finally, you make the bed. It's an annoying and cumbersome process when you're working alone--the beds here are so big you have to do laps around it to get all the sheets and blanket right. However, you refuse to cut corners, and get it done pretty quickly. The majority of your past few years here have been focused on housekeeping, so you consider yourself quite adept and efficient at it. After throwing on the pillowcases and making a small mound of plush pillows to jump on later, you consider it done.

With nothing left to do, you decide to jump on the pillow mound early, burying yourself in it.

Almost as soon as you get comfortable, the door swings back open.

"Skinsuit! Meet your friend for the day!" Revenant sounds oddly sadistic, but why?

You turn around to meet eyes with a single, red, optical bulb.

"Hello, new friend! I'm Pathfinder, and I am a MRVN!" He waves at you as if you're not a mere few yards away. You actually already know Pathfinder, but he tends to forget who you are regularly. Maybe it's from getting damaged in the Apex Games? Or perhaps it's since he's only ever met you in passing before. After all, there's never been a good reason for him to remember you until now. "Very nice to meet you, Skinsuit!"

Revenant fights back a chortle as Pathfinder gets your name so morbidly wrong. You have no reason to correct him, though, after all you never had parents to give you a real name. You've been trying on different names for decades. 'Skinsuit' just seems to fit this stage of your life, weirdly enough.

"After our misunderstanding yesterday, I decided to make it up to him by introducing you two." Revenant explains to you, his hands gesturing sarcastically. Misunderstanding is one way to put it. "He's going to make sure you don't hurt, maim, kill, or otherwise damage yourself while I'm gone."

"Yes! I don't let friends do any of those things!" Pathfinder pipes up excitedly, probably not even realizing the subtext of what Revenant is implying.

Revenant must be holding on to your self-destructive rant from earlier. That explains why he's keeping some distance. You wish you could take it back, but words don't work like that. You still can't ignore it and let it stand, though.

"Rev, I'm sorry." You blurt out, not caring what Pathfinder might think. Revenant locks eyes with you for a moment, looking slightly less on-edge than before, but still quite tense. His pause doesn't last long, as his manipulative performance must go on for Pathfinder.

"There's nothing to apologize for. " He shrugs with heavy exaggeration, even though he clearly knows what you're referring to. "Just don't be a liability." He turns to Pathfinder, who has been listening intently. "Try to keep her safe, you wouldn't want to get me in trouble if she gets hurt, would you?"

"Absolutely not, brother!" He salutes, seemingly aloof to the tension in the air.

With that, Revenant disappears behind the closing door and is gone again.

Cool, more metal friends you didn't ask for. Well, the first one went well, maybe this won't be so bad.

"You said the right thing." Pathfinder suddenly sounds more serious, even if it still has an unmistakable twinge of optimism. "He seemed upset. I think you made him feel better."

"Wait, you saw through that?" You're dumbfounded, what is with all the perceptive robots in this place?

"He always acts like that for me, but I don't mind. He only does it for me, so we must be like brothers!" Okay, maybe he's not working with a perfectly clear perspective, but still. "And he wouldn't try to get me to watch you if he didn't value you, so I will do this as a favor to him." The screen on his chest emotes a heart-eyed smiling face. "He was very upset when he thought I had figured out his secret, so you must be a very good friend to be a secret friend!"

"Wait, you saw me yesterday?" Is this MRVN a genius and pretending to be unassuming, or somehow a perfectly naïve clairvoyant? He's able to hide his power of perception from Revenant, so he can't be stupid.

"Of course! I have sensors that pick up on heat and vital signs. But you were clearly hiding, so I did not want to ruin your fun."

Fun? Oh, he's so perfectly naïve, or you're falling for a perfectly executed feign. Whichever it is, Pathfinder is a little scary in the exact opposite manner that Revenant is. Revenant may be a homicidal simulacrum with deeply human roots, but his intentions are fairly obvious and any malice he has is clear cut and concise. Pathfinder is much more confusing, clearly more intelligent than he lets on, but so perfectly optimistic that he comes off as non-threatening. Despite that impression, you've seen Pathfinder take down some of the scariest Legends over the years, often with a near-condescending air of playful joy while doing so. When Revenant kills, the bloodlust is sensible, but playfulness? It's somehow scarier.

"Are you okay, friend? You seem nervous. Did I say something bad?" His emote shows a distressed face.

"Sorry, I just get caught up in thought sometimes. What did you want to do for fun?" You figure he won't hurt you, even if you can't completely figure him out.

"Well, what do you and Revenant usually do for fun?" His emote brightens into a smile again as you grimace internally. He's either wholly unaware or viscously teasing you.

"How about we do something else? Let's..." You think, what would be nice to do? You're a bit hard pressed to come up with anything fun.

"We could bring flowers to people in the infirmary!" He pipes up happily. It's not a bad idea, really.

"Sure! I actually wanted to visit the second place Legends, if that's okay. Fuse is so nice and so is Bloodhound. Caustic... probably won't mind." You've never really met Caustic, but you know he has a reputation for being grumpy.

• • • •

You walk out into the hidden atrium behind Pathfinder's room. You knew this was here, but nobody ever comes out here to your knowledge. The doors lock if you're not careful to keep them open, so the risk of being locked outside tends to lead most to avoid the area entirely, even though it connects two wings more efficiently than the hallways.

It's full of flowers of all types, sizes, and colors. The arrangement is chaotic and seemingly random, but the lusciousness of the plants more than makes up for it. The ground flowers are blooming and have various bee species hovering around, seemingly at peace with one another. There are a few small trees reaching around eight or nine feet high and giving a little shade. One has flowers, another has berries, and yet another has some kind of unripe fruit. It's truly breathtaking, and completely undisturbed after years of being left alone by the other Legends.

"You did all this?" You ask aloud, completely in awe of the secret oasis.

"Yes! Do you like it? We can pick some flowers from here!" Pathfinder seems especially happy to be sharing this with someone.

"It's beautiful." You mutter, still captivated by how mythical this little cut of land feels.

"Thank you! I have been meaning to show Revenant, but he will never chase me this far." Pathfinder shuffles over to an area and pulls up Revenant's abandoned bovine skull from the last match with a giant chipped gash in the forehead. He's filled in the bottom and red rose buds have been replanted in the eye holes. A large snail is making its way around the gash with its mossy shell, making for an artistic arrangement. "I am really proud of this one. I felt bad his new suit was destroyed, so I wanted to keep a part of it for him. Once the roses grow, it will look really nice!"

You're impressed. Revenant seems to have some kind of distaste for Pathfinder, and you're beginning to understand why. Pathfinder is scary. He's terrifyingly kind. If your guard isn't up at all times, he will reach a deep part of you and break down your defenses in an instant. When the entirety of the Outlands treats people as disposable assets and teaches everyone to trust as few people as possible, this MRVN will treat anyone like they truly matter, like they are truly cared for, and like they are capable of great things. It's dangerous to believe those things in this universe. That's how you get victimized, abandoned, and let down. Yet, this MRVN manages to hold on to these beliefs about himself and others, and he isn't broken, dead, or an abandoned shell.

Revenant, like you, can't adhere to those beliefs. The universe has spoken, and it says otherwise. Yet, it feels nice to indulge in the feeling of mattering, even if only for a few hours. Is that why he chose Pathfinder? Of course, Pathfinder is the living opposite of a suicidal ideation, after all. Maybe Revenant knew that.

"Stupid, clever jerk." You mumble out loud.

"Me?" Pathfinder has a confused emote as he points to himself.

"Oh, sorry, no, I meant someone else." You pause, switching subjects. "It's really nice of you to reuse his favorite chassis like this. I think it's really pretty, even if he never sees it."

"Thank you, friend!" His happy emote is back, and he waves you over to another area. "Have you seen this chassis? It's my favorite!"

You walk over and follow him to see a rounded red, purple, and white chestplate that has been cracked and shattered, but loosely put back together. It has the word "Thunder" and the number "81" written on it, as well as a unique mask attached to it. This mask doesn't look like any skull you've seen before, human or otherwise, but still has a bony texture. It appears to have hooks near the chin, perhaps where it was attached to the exoskeleton, as well as unusual leather bags under the eyes. It looks perpetually tired and angry, but you definitely can't say you've seen him wear this before. The chestplate is closed over an old wood stump and beautiful mushrooms have sprung to life in the darkness and reached beyond the chassis to meet the light. His mask has a particularly colorful fungus growing on it, happily latching onto the porous material more easily than the chestplate. It's gorgeous, but you wish you could see this chassis on him too.

"No, I've never seen this one before... I haven't seen him wear it in the games either. What is it?" You ask, curious why he would have such an odd chassis in his repertoire.

"He uses it when we spar! I don't think he uses it much otherwise."

"You two spar?" You're surprised. Maybe Revenant also finds excuses to dabble in the feeling of mattering sometimes.

"Yes! Not too often, I think he gets frustrated that I am an excellent boxer. I have tried to let him win, but he doesn't like that." Your eyes widen. Pathfinder can outclass Revenant in a sparring match? This guy really is scary. "You should come sometime!"

You look back at the busted chassis. Was Revenant knocked out of this one with a blow from Pathfinder? You knew all MRVN are particularly sturdy and powerful, but you never really felt it until now. You're a helpless ragdoll full of easily exploitable and fatal flaws to Revenant, but you never even considered that perspective when around Pathfinder. Now you do.

"You can really beat Revenant?" You mumble aloud, not intending it as a real question.

"When we only use our fists, yes! I don't think I could beat him if he was allowed to use his stabbing hands. He is getting better though!" He doesn't acknowledge your apparent fear, simply giving a chipper answer. "Whiplash to the neck is a weak point in his design. He is learning that he can't let me land an uppercut. You should come watch sometime! I bet he would fight harder with you there!"

The thought of Pathfinder knocking out Revenant with an uppercut is unbelievable to you. You almost want to know if it's really possible.

"I will, if you're both okay with it." You look up at Pathfinder, who immediately makes a happy clapping motion.

"Yes! I look forward to it!"

"Do you have any more insider information on his other suits?" You ask, curious how many he has seen.

"He's told me about some, but I haven't seen them yet. Only some special colored versions of his normal one." He looks upwards as if to think, the emote on his screen changing to match. You've seen some of the other colors in past games, but never in person. You hope he has a lot of different suits, especially since they tend to alter his personality a little. You wonder what his sparring suit does to him.

"We are here to visit Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic!" Pathfinder chirps, flashing his ID badge. You place yours on the counter as well, as the receptionist scans them both. You know the receptionist, Carol's been here a long time, and she's used to seeing volunteers come through to visit the Legends.

"Let's pick some flowers for the others, then maybe we can talk some more." You want to make sure you get to see the second place team, knowing the extent of their injuries is well beyond simple gunshots wounds. Revenant had run Caustic and Fuse through completely, and probably broke many of Bloodhound's bones. You're a little worried for all of them.

• • • •

You and Pathfinder approach the receptionist in the infirmary wing, holding three unique bunches of flowers. You couldn't find vases, so they're propped up in glass soda bottles filled with water. It may be a cheap alternative to a proper vase, but the flower quality makes up for it.

She starts to laugh after scanning your badge.

"Little Skinsuit? Is that what you're going by now?" She prods. "Also, I didn't know Revenant liked anyone enough to have a direct hire. I guess all that dedication to the grump-machine paid off, huh? Congrats!" She's very nice, and doesn't pry further than that.

"I'm not going to tell Revenant what not to call me, that would be asking for trouble. But thank you! It only took four seasons and figuring out his favorite liquor." You take your ID back.

"Ha! Leave it to you to make your way up in the world through the craziest means possible. Revenant still scares the heck out of me. Today was the first time I've ever seen him visit anyone, though. Maybe he's softening up." She spins a little in her chair thinking about it. "Anyway, tell Sherry I said 'hi' when you see her next!"

"Will do! Thanks Carol!" You chime back, walking past the desk with your arms full of bouquets, Pathfinder following behind. Why would Revenant have come by here earlier? That's very odd.

As you turn the corner, you see the names of the currently admitted Legends on each of the doorways. There are not many left, it seems like most were discharged this afternoon. Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic are all still here though.

Caustic's room is the closest, but you'd rather wait to deal with him last. You haven't met him, and those who have aren't usually treated well apparently. He almost has as bad of a reputation as Revenant, but Sherry has always been able to interact with him reasonably. She told you it had something to do with being close to Wattson, but that doesn't make much sense to you.

"Let's see Fuse first." You say, carefully making your way to Fuse's door. You knock lightly before you hear his booming voice welcome you.

"Door's unlocked, mate!" He barely sounds injured. As you open the door, you see Fuse grinning widely and sitting upright in bed. He's in a hospital gown, chest exposed to reveal a massive but sewed up and sealed wound. "Oy, you brought me flowers! How kind of ya." He's absolutely beaming for someone with a massive hole in his chest.

"Sorry we came so late in the afternoon, I just wanted to visit and make sure you were okay." You fumble over your words, not sure how else to admit you were worried about him and the others. Let alone that it's partially an apology for Revenant absolutely skewering him.

"Not a problem, I see you brought a different metal fellow with ya t'day." He motions to a table beside him, where you place the flowers.

"Good to see you again Fuse, I am glad to see you are recovering well." Pathfinder chirps, forever positive.

"So, sheila, how is the angry feller?" Right, he knows about you and Revenant.

"He's, uh, under some stress, but nothing he can't handle, I'm sure." You're not sure how else to answer. Saying he's fine is too obvious of a lie, but you don't want to be too specific either.

"Really? Who knew? The red rage actually has problems like the rest of us." He chuckles. Normally you wouldn't think much of his statement, but Fuse is the type to try to get anyone to warm up to him, Revenant being no exception. Perhaps you've said too much.

"Yes! Which is why I'm taking care of his secret friend for him! She's not allowed to be a liability!" Pathfinder gently pats your shoulder. Why did he have to say that? Fuse catches sight of your dejected look and laughs harder, gripping his chest to steady the pain. Pathfinder takes his laughter as some kind of endorsement, while you hang your head in embarrassment. Fuse catches his breath finally.

"No worries sheila, I won't tell a soul. You may have to keep that a bit more under wraps though, Pathy." Fuse says through labored breaths. That laugh must have hurt. Pathfinder cocks his head in confusion. "I think the point of having a 'secret friend' is to keep them a secret, not to tell everyone!"

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Pathfinder realizes his mistake, a blue sad face appearing on his screen.

"It's okay, Pathfinder, Fuse actually already knew." You pat him on the arm in reassurance.

"Yeah, no worries mate. Just be a little more careful." His smile erases any embarrassment you feel. "Well, I'll let ya make your other rounds, I'm gonna turn in for the night." Fuse waves goodbye to you both as you excuse yourselves.

You make your way across the hall to the room labelled for Bloodhound. You lightly knock, and a nurse opens the door carefully for you. You slip in quietly and see Bloodhound lying on their back, their head facing your direction. You see their eyes dart in your direction, no longer buried under their usual goggles. Their head is well-wrapped in gauze, and their breathing mask is replaced with a hospital oxygen mask. You can finally see their eyes, which are filled with a softness you don't usually see.

Artur is on a large perch in the corner of the room, surprisingly. Bloodhound likely had to fight to get Artur into the infirmary at some point, since the perch almost looks to be a permanent installment now. Artur coos, watching the room carefully.

"Ah, the apprentice and Pathfinder." They address you both, but don't sit up. They likely aren't able to in this state.

You look to the nurse and offer her the flowers, not sure if you can approach Bloodhound at all. She takes the vase and puts it on a table a short ways from them, but well within their eyesight. Bloodhound seems enamored by the flowers, but also confused by their presence for a few moments.

"Ah, right, flowers are a common gift to the injured." They say to themself before turning to you both. "Your well wishes are accepted graciously. May the Allfather bless you in return."

You bow instinctively, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet room. Pathfinder notices and attempts to do the same, but starts to lose his balance and barely recovers. Once you right yourself, you break the silence for a mere moment.

"Get well soon, Bloodhound. Please don't..." You trail off, not sure where you were going. Die? Unlikely. Hurt? They're already hurt. Hate Revenant? They're not the type. "... don't be a stranger." You recover a little, but you're sure you're coming off awkwardly.

Bloodhound smiles with their eyes, and you feel much better, quietly slipping back out the door. Pathfinder follows, waiting for the door to close before speaking.

"I kept the secret!" He pumps his fists a little. You chuckle.

"By not talking at all. I guess it works." You pat him on the arm again. "One left, but I don't know anything about Caustic. I hope he's not as bad as they say."

Pathfinder takes the last bouquet from you and leads the way this time, apparently willing to handle the interaction himself. He knocks on the door and opens it, revealing a growling Caustic on the other side, sitting upright in bed and writing in a notebook. His usual mask is switched for an oxygen mask, and he's in a hospital garb that is far too large for him.

"Greetings, doctor! I brought you flowers!" Pathfinder chirps happily, ignoring Caustic's scowl.

"I don't want flowers. I already had to answer the simulacrum's idiotic questions, why are you bothering me now?" Caustic asks angrily, averting his attention back to his notebook.

"I intentionally got you chamomile flowers, they're Wattson's favorite for tea!" Pathfinder chirps, holding the white and yellow-centered flowers up. Caustic suddenly looks up from his notebook with a softer expression, before sighing and relenting.

"Fine, put them down on the table." His voice and expression have softened, but you're not sure why. Pathfinder must know something you don't.

As Pathfinder moves to put the flowers on his table, you lose your body to hide behind. Caustic notices you, and suddenly smiles a little wickedly.

"Ah, the simulacrum's personal lapdog reveals herself." He sneers. How did he know about you? Did Revenant say something? "You have quite the science project at your beck and call. How did a little thing like you manage that?"

You're not sure how to answer, and you know your discomfort is visible on your face. Pathfinder seems to notice as well.

"You seem to be a kindred spirit, flirting with death. Makes you feel more alive, doesn't it?" He coughs a little, interrupting his train of thought. His voice returns in a much more serious tone. "I'm afraid I can't do anything more for either of you, but I'll keep you in mind if I need to get under the simulacrum's skin."

Pathfinder doesn't speak, but starts walking towards the door, gently herding you in that direction. You leave, unsure of what else to say after that. The door gently closes behind you both.

"Are you okay, friend?" Pathfinder asks.

Now late in the evening, you finally make it back to Revenant's room, bidding Pathfinder goodbye before opening the door. You're holding a single flower you picked out for Revenant, despite Pathfinder's insistence that Revenant doesn't like or accept flowers. He's tested it thoroughly, or so he claims. You're certain this one is different, though. You picked this one for him, and you picked it for a reason. As you slip through the door, Revenant stands up from the computer desk to meet you.

"Yeah, just disturbed, I guess. Let's go, it's getting late. Let me grab dinner and let's go back to your garden." You answer, not sure what Caustic meant. You'd rather spend the rest of the evening chatting about Revenant's different chassis with Pathfinder than dwelling on Caustic's cryptic words.

• • • •

"You must have had fun. You've been gone all day." He notices the flower. "Pathfinder managed to pawn one of his flowers off on you?" He scoffs, rolling his optics.

"Actually, I picked this one for you." You correct him, unsurprised by his initial rejection. He seems to tense at the realization it's a gift from you, not Pathfinder, and that he has already judged it so openly. "It's a datura flower, I thought it was fitting."

"Datura? Like the drug?" He asks, trying to ignore his previous judgement on the flower.

"Yeah, it's called the Devil's Trumpet. It's poisonous if ingested, and causes psychedelic delusions. It's legendary for giving some of the most hellish waking nightmares. Isn't that something you've said about yourself? A nightmare flower for the nightmare Apex Predator!" You finish your short speech, and he carefully takes the flower from you, staring silently at its alluring but deceptive beauty for a few moments in silence.

"Thank you." He finally says, carefully placing the makeshift vase and flower down on the computer desk. "I wanted to talk to you about something while we're at it."

"Is this about what I said earlier? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't thinking, and--"

"You wanted to die. It's okay. I understand that feeling." He takes your hand and sits you down on the bed as he takes the office chair opposite to you. "I don't want you to die, even though I am certain I will live to see the day anyway." He pauses, gathering the words he wants to say. "If you really find you cannot handle living any longer, I want you to die painlessly in my arms."

You sit there, unable to fully process what he means, or perhaps you're refusing to process it. It's hard to swallow, if your suspicion is right. He lets the pause hang before finally specifying.

"If you truly must die, I want to be the one to take your life." His head hangs, and he refuses to make further eye contact. "It will be painless, you won't be alone, and I can hold you one last time." His pain is apparent.

As soon as the words register in your head, you throw yourself to the floor and kneel under his hunched over body, trying to meet his gaze. He is unmistakably despaired, so you stand into him, hugging him as you do.

"I'm so sorry Revenant, I promise it won't come to that." You're pleading with him to trust you, but you're not sure how to convince him. "I love you, I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. I won't let it come to that."

You're pretty sure you sound desperate, but you're not sure how he'll interpret that. You are desperate to get him back from wherever his mind is. He stays limp in your arms for a few moments--long enough to concern you. His optics are still on, so he's not rebooting. He's just pondering, and somehow that's more worrying than anything.

Finally, Revenant hugs you back, standing up and lifting you off the ground. He brings you to the bed, carefully lying down in it and dragging you into an enveloping hold. He holds you tightly, but with an intensity you haven't felt before. He doesn't speak, just holds you, refusing to let go.

You lay there, unable to move and unwilling to abandon him for what feels like hours, until your consciousness starts to fade. You drift off quickly, unable to deny your exhaustion any further.

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krewbies · 4 years ago

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these arms of yours

a korra x reader one shot ; you get stressed. your girlfriend loves you too much to watch you spiral down a pile of papers.

••••••

“What are you up to?” The sound of Korra’s voice took a litle bit of the stiffness out of your shoulders; you had specifically told your friends and family you wanted to be left alone today, you had work to catch up on for school. The end of the school year was nearing and you had convinced yourself, as you often did, that you weren’t prepared.

But secretly, you had been waiting to see her all day.

“Studying,” you reply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She made a little ‘hmph’ sound, wrapping her bare arms around your shoulders, glancing at the reports and pages of notes sprawled in front of you. “’m afraid I’m gonna fail the final, Korra.”

“What?” She honestly sounded shocked as she came to kneel down in front of you. “You’re the smartest person I know.” You shook your head at that notion, letting tears you didn’t know you were holding well up in your eyes.

“Then why do I feel so... so incompetent?” The tears spilled over when you finally decided to look her in the eyes. The stress, the anxiety, the ache that you felt when you didn’t get to see Korra for days on end finally got to you.

Her eyes widened, and her first instinct was to wipe the tears away from your gorgeous face and wrap you up and shut the rest of the world out. You honestly didn’t even know why you were like this- your chest was heaving at this point. You’d been stressed before, but today was different.

Korra knew it was no use trying to cheer you up when you were surrounded by the things making you cry like this, so she thought of the next best thing.

“Let’s go somewhere. Can’t let the months I spent learning to drive go to waste, can we?” Her eyebrows furrowed and she pulled your hands away from your red face; she hated seeing you like this. It made her feel helpless, and on top of that, more than anything, she just wanted you to be happy. To see you smile was intoxicating to her, and she’d pull one out of you somehow. Korra was a determined woman.

“I- I- I have class tomorrow. I can’t go away from home.” You struggled to get your thought out, all sniffly- you felt stupid crying over something like this.

“Then... the hotel on the other side of the city. You’ve been pent up here all day. Let’s just get away for the night,” Her suggestion was definitely tempting, and you knew she wouldn’t let up. Plus, quite frankly, your home was messy and you didn’t even want to think about cleaning right now, “Just you and me.”

The hotel was quaint, but the sheets were crisp and clean and everything was neat, this sort of pristine was something you had been missing for a while. Most importantly, Korra thought, the tub was huge.

“Sit here.” She gently pushed you down on the bed, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles and kissing your palm before stepping into the bright, white, fluorescent bathroom. You sniffled quietly as water ran, and turned your head to look out the window and down at Republic City. You were still stressed, and you felt increasingly less calm, because all you wanted was for Korra to lay here and hold you. At the very least, for her to be in your immediate vicinity.

“C’mere (Y/N).” Korra’s voice, which was surprisingly quiet at the moment, drifted out to you. You hesitantly stood up, feeling shaky and tired and straight up emotionally drained.

Korra had it all laid out. Pajamas sat on the vanity, a small radio with faint music sat on the edge of the toilet, and there she was, sitting on the edge of the tub, already having stripped off her uppermost clothes. Sometimes it was easy to underestimate Korra’s inherent tenderness. She was often brash and loud, and her kisses were always rough, and she was so passionate about everything; but these were the moments only you had the pleasure of seeing.

You both took off the rest of your clothes slowly. It wasn’t sexual or awkward, it was intimate and comforting.

The bathwater was hot, the kind of temperature that made your face sweat a little, but it wasn’t uncomfortable as you two dipped in. Korra got in first, and you after, and the first thing she did was pull you back against her chest. Her arms loosely wrapped around you, caressing both your arms up and down, and she placed her face in the crook of your neck.

A soft sigh left your mouth. This is it. This is the reason you work your ass off. Moments like this, where the world is far, far away, and all you can feel is Korra.

“What’s up?” She asked you softly, placing a damp kiss on the back of your neck. You let your head roll back onto her chest, smiling for the first time all day.

“Nothing.. just,” You hesitated. She had such an artful way of tricking you into feeling better, into forgetting all your worldly responsibilities if only for a night. It meant the world to you, and so much more. “Thank you.”

She giggled into your neck a little, shaking her head, her hair tickling your forehead as it hung over your face. “I love you.” It was a simple statement, but something that Korra didn’t say out loud often. She preferred showing how she felt rather than saying it, but right now it was all she had left to say. It was the simple truth. She loved you, with her entire being.

You laid your hand over hers and squeezed them, letting her know she had successfully helped you slip into a state of calm.

“I love you, too.”

~~~~

hey!!! i hope this was okay! i wrote it because, right now is the time of year where a lot of people have either already started school or will be soon, myself included. sometimes we all just need someone to love us like korra ;)

#korra x reader #legend of korra #lok #lok imagine #krewbies writes #wlw #korra imagine #fluff #comfort fic #DO I NEED TO TAG THIS BOLIN X READER #fuck it im doing it #bolin x reader

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seungminotes · 4 years ago

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Broken Noses and Potted Plants (pt.1)

w.c. ~2k

warnings. some cursing I believe, gender neutral (please notify me if anything suggests otherwise!)

desc. high school au, love triangle w/ student body president! seungmin and reckless and lazy! jisung

a.n. hello! I am getting back into writing! this will be part of a series updated weekly, for now please enjoy part 1 and tell me if you're liking it? any and all feedback appreciated.

For someone as lonesome and timid as you, Kim Seungmin was what you'd call your savior.

Him being Class President and the longest standing place holder of the first rank of your grade, you would think he was the solitary and studious type of person. No one would think such a straightforward and driven student was so popular and well-liked as he was.

You being only second to him, knew it was difficult enough to balance academics with a few simple extracurriculars, imagine having a social life on top of that, it made your head spin.

And yet, somehow Seungmin managed to do it all. He was class president, captain of the baseball team, and on the officer committees of at least five clubs and honor societies. On top of all that, he was one of the most popular and well-known students in your year.

Sure, Seungmin had lots of friends and acquaintances, but some he would consider a lot closer than others. You weren't really one of those, let’s face it. You knew that much.

In fact, you and Seungmin were mostly just "friends" for the academic benefit of it all. You'd sat near him all year long, were his vice class president, and were also in numerous of the same honor societies. It just made sense that you'd be at least academically close, a lot more would get done that way.

For instance, you two would often study together at the school’s library after classes, specifically on Fridays, when no extracurriculars were occurring to keep you busy. Lunch time was strictly student government briefing for you two. And in the time between lessons, you’d regularly check each other’s classwork and homework for each other, catching any errors either of you made before it was time to submit, not that Seungmin made many errors anyway. To say that you two spent a lot of time together would be a bit of an understatement.

Despite all this time though, you could hardly say you really knew Seungmin, at least not on a personal level. You knew he always preferred chicken at lunch, and how math was undoubtedly his best subject, whereas he struggles a bit more with language. You knew he was an amazing leader and how his decisions were always very well rounded and well-received amongst the student body. You knew he was an exceptional baseball player.

But that was about it really. Yet you somehow still managed to develop some huge crush on this guy. This boy who would never feel the same towards you surely, because you two were merely classmates with similar goals and no intentions of building upon this acquaintance-like friendship.

Knowing this, you still sometimes tried to get closer to Seungmin, you really did, out of the sheer possibility that one day he may notice and you’d have an implicit agreement of friendship at the very least.

One of these attempts was made with the founding of the club you’ve always wanted the school to have, but were sure hardly anyone would join unless prompted to do so.

The morning you had asked Seungmin to take into consideration a new club proposal, he had initially rejected it quite harshly.

“Who would join this?” he smiled. To be quite honest he had found the idea of a gardening club maintaining potted flowers and vegetables on the school’s old rundown rooftop greenhouse to be pretty wholesome, but did not think it held quite the right formality to be taken as seriously as other clubs if presented to the rest of the student government. Everyone was way too stressed and busy with exams to waste time playing with dirt.

He eyed the proposal form meticulously, looking for the student’s name, but to no avail.

“Who submitted this?” he asked, looking up from the table for the first time since lunch began.

“I just thought it’d be a nice stress reliever for everyone,” you replied, now feeling a lot less confident than when you had slid the piece of paper in front of him.

Your shy look told Seungmin he had probably hurt your pride just now, something that he would never mean to do on purpose of course, and now he felt the remorse creeping up on him. Perhaps the club wouldn’t be such a bad thing, he thought over. Maybe tweaking the name just a bit would make it sound more worthwhile to students.

He sighed.

“Put your name on it and change the name to an Environmental Awareness Club, something along those lines at least. We can present the idea at today's meeting.”

Headstrong and confident as always, Seungmin brought a smile to your face as you reached over into your bag to fish out a pen and correct the form.

Seungmin had always been this closed off and serious, never speaking informally to you, and never wasting his words, he was the most concise and careful speaker you had ever met. And for some reason this only drew you in. His big brain energy was just that attractive.

On the other side of the table, Seungmin took notice of your surge in mood and smiled to himself, relieved to have boosted your spirit.

The board hardly agreed to the proposal until Seungmin cut in and beautifully explained the benefits of gardening and plants on stress relief and the ideologies of being environmentally conscious at your age.

After that everyone was pretty much sold on the idea with just one condition. Miroh High’s new Environmental Awareness Club would have to be established in time for the annual club fair in two weeks. Meaning, recruitment of leading members, supplies and set up on the rooftop would have to be set by at least next week to be considered for the school’s extensive list of beneficial extracurricular activities for students.

The condition was enough to falter even Seungmin’s confidence. He was unsure if you’d manage to do all that on your own in just a week, especially with your rather quiet tendencies, he doubted you could recruit many students in such a small amount of time.

He looked over at you, almost as if asking for your approval, to which he caught your lingering gaze on him, a look he had never seen coming from you. You slightly nodded your head once in agreement to the ruling and Seungmin politely shook his head towards the rest of the government board members, bowing as he took his seat once again.

Seungmin had made your dream gardening club a hopeful reality, you just needed more people now, that was the only problem. Still, you imagined having Seungmin join and coming along to your gardening club, gently taking care of a flower. No, a vegetable, you decided. Seungmin would prefer a vegetable, it’d be more practical of him.

The day following your ‘environmental awareness club” approval was a Friday. Your designated study session with Seungmin was as always to take place in the library after classes had ended, only today he had opted to stay behind a bit and insisted you meet there in thirty minutes instead.

“I’m helping Han with cleaning duty today, so I’ll meet you there,” he explained, before he stood up from his seat making way for the desk behind you.

Behind you, a certain Han Jisung had sat for the last 3 years of school in which somehow you two were always assigned the same classroom and the same seating order, you in front, him right behind you.

Today Jisung was dead asleep, as he usually was after a math lesson. The sight made you smile, Seungmin lightly shaking his friend awake as a very disoriented Jisung began to stretch and groan from his interruption.

Jisung was actually a very close friend of Seungmin’s. Very unexpected given their contrasting qualities. Sometimes opposites just attract huh. Seungmin could never sleep in class, for instance, while Jisung might as well have brought a pillow on the daily.

You knew Jisung wasn’t exactly the most driven student either, but his rank had miraculously never sunk below 10, he was just naturally smart that way. He also never bothered with extracurriculars much, claiming music was all he cared enough for to ever sign up for. Overall, Jisung was an unexpectedly exceptional student with lazy tendencies and not much academic ambition, a striking polar to Seungmin.

After watching the scene unfold, you stood up yourself and made your way towards the vending machine to pass the time waiting for Seungmin before heading to the library. You decided on a small bag of chips and two cookies. You also decided to save one for Seungmin, even though you weren’t supposed to eat in the library, you figured he could save it for afterwards or something.

Unbeknownst to you, Seungmin would later take this small offering in a different light.

Because you see, Seungmin had experienced a fair amount of admirers in his time and had been used to the small gifts given to him by more brazen ones before. In combination with the lingering gazes he felt you giving him both yesterday and now today, he was worried the same was occurring once again. Only this time he didn’t know to go about it. Usually he would simply refuse their gestures with a polite apology and it’d be enough to kindly reject them. But he was unsure this time. Not because he felt anything of the sort towards you, no, Seungmin was much too busy for romantic gestures and feelings to eat up his time, but rather because you were simply so close to him. Not in the personal sense, but in the academic proximity sense of closeness. If he were to “kindly reject you”, would you avoid him like his other past admirers often decide to do? That would make a lot of student government stuff difficult. He suddenly wondered if he could have led you on at all, had he been too kind towards you lately? His racing thoughts spiralling into a mess of ‘what ifs’ were fortunately cut short.

“Are you alright Seungmin? You haven’t finished the problem set yet.” you inquired. Seungmin was usually the one to finish long before you, especially if it was math.

He’d looked over at the fully scribbled page of your workbook, realizing his distraction.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No problem,” you replied, glancing towards our watch briefly. It was just nearing the time the school’s library closed and you had planned to leave a bit earlier to make a quick trip to the plant nursery just a few minutes off your route home, you had thought your study session would have ended by now.

“Do you need to go,” Seungmin voiced, noticing a slight impatience in the bounce of your knee.

You thanked Seungmin’s impeccable attention, you couldn’t find it in you to excuse yourself when he still hadn’t finished.

“I’m heading to the nursery today for some supplies for the club,” you unconsciously checked the time once again.

“We can look over the answers Monday if you like? I got a little distracted today…” Seungmin trailed off.

It was unusual for Seungmin to trail off his sentences and get distracted and for a second you worried for him and wanted to ask if anything was bothering him.

Only, you stopped yourself. You didn’t know Seungmin like that. It would be inappropriate and insensitive to ask him something like that, right? You decided it was best to let it go, everyone has off days after all. Even the amazing Seungmin isn’t immune to them.

“I’ll leave first then,” you offered, bidding him a polite bow of the head before slinging your bag over our shoulder and making your way out of the library.

Seungmin watched you walk towards the door, unconsciously biting his inner cheek, he felt... worried, that was the best fitting word, he would say, only he wasn’t completely sure that was what the heavy weight in the pit of his stomach really was.

When you had disappeared down the hall, Seungmin slumped his head down onto the table heaving a deep sigh.

#stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz angst #han jisung imagines #han jisung #kim seungmin #seungmin imagines #jisung imagines #skz scenarios #jisung drabbles #jisung fluff #seungmin fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years ago

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under the mistletoe

ole miss rafe x reader

the beginning of your relationship with some misunderstandings along the way (ft. the first kiss)

yes i will continue to use the same gif of this man :)

(warnings: cursing, drinking, light editing)

Rafe texted you for the first time about a date the weekend after the Egg Bowl. You weren’t overly enthused at the prospect, he’d been a huge dick, but you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him.

Dinner and a movie.

It wasn’t even a question. It was a demand, like he knew you’d say yes so there was no point in actually asking. To be fair you did plan on saying yes, but he didn’t need to know that. So, after 30 minutes, you had to make him sweat it out, you responded.

First of all, you should ask. Demanding is not the way to get a date. Second of all, if you think I’m voluntarily stepping foot in Oxford for a boy, you’re sorely mistaken.

Rafe responded almost immediately which made you feel a bit vindicated.

You’re right. I’m sorry. Meet in Jackson?

Which you could absolutely do. The two of you made plans for the following weekend to meet at the Cultivation Food Hall, and then you wanted to check out a science museum they had there. It was the inner vet major in you. And shockingly, Rafe agreed without much of a fight.

Of course it was almost too much to ask. What more could you expect from an Oxford frat douche bag, really there was no one to blame but yourself. The science museum was maybe a little bit childish, but you thoroughly enjoyed it while Rafe made it very clear he was bored.

You weren’t entirely sure what his major was, but clearly it wasn’t very sciency. There were easy hikes which cheered him up a bit, so you were glad for that, but when the two of you got in your cars to go your separate ways, you expected that to be the end.

It wasn’t, and he texted you again.

Did you make it back okay?

And when you didn’t answer, ready to leave him on read despite the warm feeling in your chest, he texted again.

I hope you had fun, I did. Can I see you again?

You walked over to your roommate’s room and dropped onto her bed with a loud, dramatic groan. She looked up from her desk where she was reading for one of her classes with an amused look, “Something wrong?”

“Rafe texted me,” you told her. She’d heard all about the date, you called her on the drive home so she had Thai takeout waiting for you when you got there, so she understood for the most part.

“And? Leave him on read if he made you that miserable today that you had to eat your weight in Thai food.”

“But, part of me wants to text him back. Like a big part of me. I don’t- explain to me.”

She snorted, “You’ve always liked toxic men.”

Your jaw dropped, but you couldn’t really argue with her there. There was nothing but the truth in her words, “Um, you didn’t have to come for me like that.”

“You needed honesty. I know you’re going to text him back, so what do you plan on saying?”

“What should I say?”

“I don’t know. I barely met him. Have your texts been super flirty?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want them to be?”

And that you had to think about. Did you really want to pursue things with this guy when you were both about to graduate in a semester.

“Maybe, I don’t know. I mean it might not go anywhere or get, like, super serious.”

She made a face, “But is that the guy you really want to pass the time with? Like you could definitely meet a nice boy here.”

You scoffed, “I’ve been here for three and a half years and haven’t managed that. May as well go for a hotty toddy.”

She sighed and gave you an amused look, “I’m a little embarrassed for you. This should be against everything you stand for.”

“It is,” you told her, slightly ashamed, “but he’s also cute.”

“Like I said, toxic men as long as they come in a pretty package.”

So, after a few hours you texted him back.

Yeah I made it, thanks. I’d like that. Maybe we can catch that movie. But no way in hell I’m going to Oxford.

His response was a little delayed, which you didn’t expect one back that night anyway, you sent it late. But just as you were almost asleep, your phone buzzed.

Fair enough. But don’t expect me to show up in Starkville anyway

Some people in your major were throwing a Christmas party a week before Christmas, and you really were debating going. Most of them had significant others and you knew it would be pretty painful being one of the only singles drinking alone.

“So bring Rafe,” your roommate suggested when you were yet again laying on her bed to complain.

You sat up fast, head spinning a bit, “I can’t just ask him. We haven’t even been seeing each other that long. Like he hasn’t even kissed me or anything. No relationship definition at all.”

She joined you on the bed and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Okay, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but you actually really like this guy, right?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I’m such a hypocrite, but I really do.”

“Then ask him. You said the dates were getting better with each one. You’ve seen him every weekend for a month and some weeknights since you don’t have Friday classes.”

“What if he says no,” you whispered, “I think that’s why I’m most worried. It’ll really really hurt if he says no.”

She bit her lip, thinking, “Okay, if he asked you to be his date at some event in Oxford, would you go?”

You answered without hesitation, “I would.”

“Then ask. If he says no, I’ll go as your date and we’ll drink and have fun. But all you can assume is that he likes you as much as you like him, and he’ll say yes.”

“You’re right,” you admitted, standing from her bed, resolved, “I’m going to ask him.”

Hey Cameron, got a minute?

He answered quickly.

Sure, what’s up?

So you called him, and he answered on the second ring. Deep down you were very pleased about that.

“Hey,” he answered, “something wrong?”

“Not really, I just had a question for you.”

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve done it over text so if he did reject you, it wouldn’t be where he could actually hear your response. But the reasoning you called is so that if you got a no it wouldn’t be in a text where you could reread and over analyze that night.

“Fire away,” he cut off your spiral.

You sighed, “Okay so a few people in my major that I’ve done group projects with before are throwing a Christmas party. We all get plus ones, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

He hummed, “What’s the date?”

“Um, I think December 18th. If you’re going home before then, that’s totally fine. I just wanted to ask.”

“You’re willing to bring a hotty toddy to a bulldog Christmas party,” he teased, “I’m honored.”

You snorted, “Unfortunately, I am. If you want to at least, please don’t feel pressured.”

“I don’t. And I’m not going home for Christmas. I haven’t since freshman year. The reason I asked was because some of the guys in my pledge class are having a get together of our own. We did Secret Santa and it’s on the 21st so I didn’t want to miss it.”

“Oh,” you paused, “so you’ll come with me?”

“Of course,” his voice was soft, “you sound surprised.”

Your cheeks heated up, “I mean, I was kind of expecting you to say no.”

Rafe went silent, you could almost hear the gears in his head spinning as he tried to come up with a response. You were about to ask if he was okay before he responded, “You know that I like spending time with you, right?”

You tried to play your anxiety off, “I mean, I’d hope so the amount of weekends we’ve spent together so far.”

“Good. So then why do you think I’d say no?”

“I don’t know,” you chewed on your lip, “I guess we just haven’t really talked about what this is and I wasn’t sure where you are or how you feel.”

He hummed, “Okay, I understand. I’m sorry for not communicating better.”

“It’s okay, I should’ve done better too.”

“Well, now that we’re on the same page. Tell me exactly when the party is and I’ll be there.”

You hesitated, “Do you want to come the night before and stay?”

His voice was warm, when he answered, “Absolutely.”

“Thank god,” your roommate had said when you told her, “now I can go home early.”

Her partner was from her hometown, and they didn’t get to see each other often. She’d come to visit a few times since you and your roommate had lived together, so you had at least met her before.

“Tell her I said hey. Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I need to pick up dessert for the party anyway, so I’ll drive you to Jackson and go to Target there.”

The two of you woke up at 3 a.m. to get her to the airport by 5:30. She talked a little about her Christmas plans and then the two of you rode mostly in silence. It was kind of calming, despite being super tired.

Before she got out of the car, your roommate pulled something out of her backpack and held it out to you. You took it, frown on your face, “Is this mistletoe?”

“It is. You said Rafe hadn’t kissed you yet, put this to use.”

You shook your head, huffing out a laugh, “I don’t know about that one.”

“He’ll be at the apartment all weekend, just hang it up in the kitchen or like in the hallway leading to your room.”

“It seems cheesy.”

“It is, but that’s what makes it fun,” she insisted.

Taking the mistletoe, you set it in the cupholder, “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

She nodded, pleased enough, “Thank you.”

You didn’t hang the mistletoe up, but to be fair you got totally distracted by stress cleaning and baking the desserts for the party you decided to make from scratch instead of buying store bought.

Rafe wasn’t supposed to show up until that night, but there was a knock at your apartment door at 2:30, startling you. He was smiling sheepishly on the other side, “I know I’m early, but I didn’t see any point in waiting longer.”

Grinning, you stepped aside to let him in. He looked around, taking in the decorations you and your roommate set up the day after Thanksgiving. You pointed toward the hallway your room was down, “If you want to set your stuff down, my room is at the end of that hall.”

“Thanks,” he answered, bending down to kiss you on the cheeks, something he’d been doing since date three.

Walking back to the kitchen you immediately picked the stress baking back up where you’d left it to answer the door. Rafe was gone for a while, using the bathroom you assumed, and when he came back, he was changed, and you couldn’t help but stare.

“What?” he asked, a weird look on his face.

“Nothing, I’ve just never seen you out of like jeans or slacks.”

He glanced down at himself, sweatshirt with his frat letters on them and grey sweatpants, before looking up at you, “I figured since we were staying in I could get comfy.”

“Yeah definitely,” you reassured, “I like it, just was surprised, that’s all.”

“You like it, huh?” he teased and stepped fully into the kitchen, wrapping one arm around your shoulders, “That’s noted.”

Rafe did dress back up for the party, which you were expecting. Jeans and a nice sweater. You smiled at him and tugged gently at the sweater, “This is cute.”

“Bought it just for the party. It’s even maroon, see?”

“I do see. Didn’t know if it was a coincidence or not.”

“Nope, fully intentional.”

It felt like a good time to kiss him, mistletoe or not, but before you got up the courage, he was stepping away to grab one of the desserts off the counter. You sighed internally and grabbed the other with the hand not holding your keys.

“Alright, I’m parked in the back lot, opposite direction of visitor parking.”

“Cool, after you.”

Sitting in the car, you plugged your phone into the aux. Rafe buckled up and got comfy in the passenger’s seat. You smiled at him, it felt natural for him to be invading your space the way he was. But he was giving you a bit of a complex with the whole not interested in kissing thing.

He glanced down at the cupholder and did a double take. You cursed yourself for forgetting to take the mistletoe out of your car when he asked, “Is that mistletoe.”

“Um, yep.”

“Why do you have it?”

“I meant to give it to my roommate when she flew out, but it was so early it totally slipped my mind,” you lied smoothly.

Rafe nodded, totally believing it, and you sighed. Maybe you should bring it in, hang it up when he’s in the shower or something. But deep down you knew you wouldn’t. You didn’t want Rafe to kiss you out of obligation for some stupid tradition. You wanted him to mean it.

The drive went by quickly, the boy hosting lived at an apartment complex just up the road, and you found parking easily, recognizing a few cars in the visitors' spaces meaning you weren’t the first ones to show up.

Rafe got out and took in all the MSU merch hanging from balconies and on cars with a grimace, “Y’all have almost too much spirit.”

“We aren’t snobby enough to think it’s tacky and above us,” you responded, taking a clear shot at Ole Miss.

“Fair enough. It’s just a lot of talk for a school who’s so bad at sports.”

Your jaw dropped, “I know an Ole Miss football fan isn’t speaking right now. Are you aboard the Lane Train?” you asked, mockingly.

Rafe rolled his eyes and shook his head, reaching down to ruffle your hair playfully, “With that record? Absolutely not.”

“And not because he’s a piece of shit?”

“Well, that too.”

He grabbed both containers in one hand and your hand in the other, lacing your fingers together as you led the two of you to the right building. His palms were sweating a little, and you squeezed gently, “All good?”

“A bit nervous, just don’t want to look stupid in front of your friends.”

“Why would you,” you were confused, unsure how he’d reached that conclusion.

“I mean, you’re all like STEM majors, right?”

“Yeah?”

“And I am not.”

There was so much to unpack there, so you tried to go for a joke, “I mean we aren’t going to just talk about like anatomy and biology all night, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He snorted, “Maybe a little. I just feel out of my depth.”

“I promise, it’s going to be okay. You’re really smart too, just in a different way. But we aren’t really here to show off our intelligence. It’s more to drink and eat and bitch about our professors.”

“See, that’s super specific,” he complained.

“Well, yeah, I guess. But most of us are dating out of our majors, just hop on the bandwagon like they do and you’ll win ‘em over in no time.”

By the time you’d finished reassuring him, the two of you had arrived at his door. You squeezed one last time and he smiled, seeming more at ease. Reaching up to knock, it swung open before you could, a guy named Justin grinning widely, “Welcome welcome to the annual Bitchmas Party.”

Rafe snorted and let you step in first. Justin set his drink down on the table by the door and held his hands out, I’ll take your coats and your keys please.”

Handing them over, he escorted you through the entranceway to the living room, stopping you right as the tile changed to carpet. You squinted at him, “What?”

Wordlessly, he pointed up and you saw mistletoe, your blood running cold. Rafe made a noise and bent down to kiss your cheek, close to the corner of your mouth but not quite.

“Boo,” Justin jeered, “but close enough, come on through.”

Your stomach sank. Again. And Rafe leaned down, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I mean, you could’ve kissed me.” Your words came out a lot sharper than you intended, but before Rafe could question you, Ashton was stepping in to ask the two of you about drinks. Rafe asked for a soda and you got spiked eggnog. May as well to sort through the mess of feelings in your stomach.

Someone spread out the food and everyone lined up to get plates before settling in the assortment of chairs all over the room. You sat on the couch and Rafe sat on the floor, leaned back next to your legs. Justin gave him a weird look and offered a chair, but Rafe declined, saying he was fine.

At some point, he wrapped an arm around your closest leg and leaned his head on your thigh, nodding along to the conversation. You brushed your hand through his hair that you’d convinced him to leave ungelled, and complained about your animal sciences professor who’d made the tests way harder than necessary and not offered bonus opportunities.

Rafe actually interrupted, “Okay wait, she put questions on information not taught in class and not readily available in your textbook?”

“Correct.”

“So how were you supposed to know you were going to be tested on it.”

“You weren’t,” Justin answered him, drily, “That was her whole point. Be prepared for anything.”

“She should’ve just given us papers on those topics.”

“Agreed,” a girl named Emily chipped in, “I would’ve so much preferred that than literally guessing on a test.”

Rafe made a face, “I mean, for my history courses we were expected to do the readings and then like additional research, but she told us the topics beforehand so we’d know what to research.”

Ashton’s girlfriend leaned forward at his words, “You’re a history major?”

“Yeah,” Rafe answered, his grip on your leg tightening.

“Me too,” she looked excited, “what do you want to do?”

He leaned forward eagerly, “I want to teach, European if possible. I haven’t decided if I want to do like Advanced Placement courses in high school or just go get a masters and be a professor. What do you want to do?”

“I want to do research so I’ll definitely be going after a PhD. But I figure at least that way, I’ll be doing something while Ash is in vet school.”

Rafe looked around, “Is everyone here going to vet school?”

Mostly everyone in your group was, so they all nodded, including you. Justin spoke up, “Buncha nerds in this bunch. We all grouped together pretty much since day one since we all had the same plans. We’ve lost a few along the way.”

“Rest in peace Jasmine and Brady,” you added, solemnly.

“Do you all want to stay here?” Rafe asked, clearly curious about everyone’s plans.

A few people around the group nodded, but some shook their heads. Rafe hummed, taking in the information before looking over his shoulder at you. You nodded, “Yeah, I like MSU’s vet school, I want to stay.”

He nodded thoughtfully, “Good to know.”

Justin gave you a weird look and you shrugged, just as confused.

Four cups of eggnog later, the party was winding down, and you were happily tipsy. Rafe, still sober, had an arm around your waist to keep you steady. He led you toward the door, passing under the mistletoe again without stopping and you sighed.

Glancing down at you, he made a face, “Clearly something is on your mind.”

“Clearly,” you muttered back sarcastically. He opened the passenger door for you to climb in and you asked, “You know how to get back?”

“It’s just up the road, I don’t think it’s that hard.”

You rolled your eyes, “Just a question, no need to get so offended.”

The ride back was in uncomfortable silence, so unlike the drive there that you were squirming in the passenger seat. Rafe glanced over at a red light, “Are you about to puke?”

Offended, you answered, “No, I can handle my fucking alcohol.”

“Okay,” he muttered, “no need to get defensive.”

You hated how weird it felt between the two of you, but you weren’t sure how to fix it. Unless he just magically decided you were kissable, but you didn’t foresee that happening in the near future, so instead, you pouted.

Rafe parked and turned the car off but stayed seated, so you did too, feeling uneasy. He looked over at you, “What’s up. Why have you been so weird tonight?”

“I haven’t.”

“You have. And I think it actually started yesterday when I got here. Is it just me being in your space? Like am I invading it or something? I can go home tonight if I need to.”

Maybe you weren’t in the ideal state to have this conversation, but you also figured this was probably the state you were most likely to let the honest truth slip.

“No. The problem is you aren’t taking up enough space.”

Which in hindsight didn’t make much sense, you couldn’t blame him for the confused, “What does that mean?”

“It means that you won’t kiss me and I’m not sure why.”

“I-” and for once, for once in your whole goddamn relationship (or whatever you were calling it) Rafe was speechless, “I thought you didn’t want me to.”

Then it was your turn to be shocked, “What? When did I say that?”

“On our first date, you talked about only kissing when it got serious.”

“Yes.”

“And when I brought up the Christmas party in Oxford, you didn’t ask about a plus one. Hell, you still won’t come to Oxford at all.”

“How was I supposed to know I’m supposed to invite myself to a Christmas party with the boys? And sure, I was opposed to Oxford at first, but I think we’ve been seeing each other long enough for me to actually make that trip,” you answered incredulously, startled at all the assumptions he’d jumped to.

He squinted, “You never said.”

“You never said,” you fired back, “I invited you to a party with my friends, I thought that would be hint enough that I think this is serious.”

“I need it outright said,” he mumbled.

“Clearly.”

“Hey,” he protested, “it’s not just me. In fact, you never brought it up either.”

“Okay, Cameron, to be fair, you never brought up anything about that party other than that it was Secret Santa for some guys in your pledge class. Not only do I not want to be the only girl there, I especially don’t want to be an MSU girl there with a bunch of drunk Ole Miss frat boys.”

Rafe snorted, “Fair, that’s totally fair. So, I guess I should ask, do you want to come? There will be girlfriends and boyfriends. Secret Santa is just a small part.”

“Sure, I need to come see your apartment anyway, I should know what I’m getting into.”

He laughed loudly, “I’m not sure if I’m okay with that.”

You poked him teasingly, “Hey, you can’t take it back now, buddy.”

“I’d never.”

And with that, he got out of the car. You felt significantly better as he jogged around to grab the door for you. His arm went around your shoulders immediately, and you weren’t sure if it was an attempt to keep you standing straight or not.

“I’m not that drunk,” you told him.

He raised his eyebrows, “Okay four cups. I could smell the booze in that eggnog, it was strong.”

“Well you hurt my feelings, what else was I supposed to do besides drink?”

Rafe snorted, “Talk to me.”

“In front of everyone? At a party?”

“Bathroom.”

“So Justin could think we were hooking up in his bathroom.”

He squinted at you a few seconds, “Okay so it wasn’t the most conducive situation for a serious talk.”

“Mhmm.”

The two of you climbed the stairs to your third floor apartment. Rafe behind you so you wouldn’t fall and hurt yourself. He was a little offended when you muttered that you’d just take him down with you, “I could definitely catch you.”

“Okay buddy,” you patted his shoulder.

He made you drink four glasses of water in the kitchen and by the time the two of you were walking to the bathroom to get ready for bed, you were significantly sobered up. You tried to get to the sink first and Rafe playfully hip checked you out of the way to get his toothbrush.

“Nooo,” you complained, “my skincare routine is so much longer than yours, you can wait.”

“Guests first,” he argued, successfully keeping you away from the sink.

You gave up pushing against him to pout, “At least pass me my makeup remover.”

“Fine,” he grabbed the bottle from the sink and passed it over, “I guess you can at least start.”

“Oh thanks for your permission,” you responded sarcastically.

The next five minutes of him washing his face and getting ready, you kept trying to nudge him out of the way, but he wasn’t budging. Finally, you dug your fingers into his side and he yelped, twisting away enough for you to get some space in front of the mirror.

Your eyes lit up, “Are you ticklish?”

“No,” he denied, just a little too fast.

“Liar.”

You reached out to him again and he grabbed your hand pulling you into his chest. So caught off guard, you didn’t register him tilting your chin up or lowering his head to kiss you. And then his lips were on yours for the first time, and you made a noise, leaning into it.

He smiled and you could feel his heart racing where your hand was pressed against his chest. In the proximity, you couldn’t help but dig your fingers into his side again. He jerked away, joking glare on his face, “Watch it, mamas. I’ll make you pay for it.”

“Promise?” you teased, finally catching him off guard enough to get mirror space.

Rafe stepped over to sit on the closed toilet lid to wait his turn again and laughed. You turned to look at him, mid-washing your face, and gave him a questioning look.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the squashed mistletoe, “Guess I don’t need this.”

“You were going to use the mistletoe to kiss me?”

“I figured if your roommate wasn’t going to use it, we could.”

“Oh I lied,” you admitted, turning back to rinse your face.

“What?” he asked while you were drying.

You nodded, “She gave it to me to get you to kiss me.”

“Oh,” he perked up, “well I guess it kinda worked. Make sure to thank her for me.”

“No, absolutely not,” you insisted, “she does not need that ego boost.”

He laughed, holding his hands up, “Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

“As we should always.”

He laughed again and hip checked you over toward the wall so he could get back closer to the sink. You couldn’t help but think to yourself that you could get used to this.

day 3 of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: mistletoe

#college rafe #ole miss rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #outer banks fic #obxmermaidholiday

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