#easier to spot mistakes or incoherences - bad

[brendans-writes]

honey-milk-depresso’s 1.8k Milestone Event

A/N: June and July have been very busy months for me so, unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to finish the fics I had in mind. Writing two fics was definitely over-ambitious of me, as I barely managed to start one... In any case, I’ve decided to post what I do have of the Jade x Reader fic. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing right?

  summary: About 500 words of more or less incoherent world building for a silly little slice of Vampire!Octavinelle. No pairing in this post, but would’ve eventually been Jade x Reader. Inspired by @twstedstoryshop for @honey-milk-depresso’s event.

Vampires are ruthless. Vampires are fickle. Vampires are not to be trusted. No matter how harmless a vampire seemed, there was always a pair of fangs just inside their lips that would rip your throat out the moment they had the chance. 

Vampires have long since claimed their place at the top of the food chain, leaving the humans left to fight for their survival. Many weaker humans are kept by vampires as a constant food supply or even as pets. Others have formed groups, working together to protect each other and founding blood banks to bargain a peace with their overlords. Among those groups, some rebel against all blood suckers, fighting with blunted teeth and dulled claws against the superior predators. 

There are some, though, who forge for themselves a different path in the world. Vampire Hunters. Cold-blooded assassins that, for one reason or another, have come to predate the predators. They have perfected the art of murdering those above themselves on the food chain. Many vampires, of course, fear this perversion of the natural order and seek to kill these so-called Hunters. Many governances provide rewards for handing such pests over to them - dead or alive. 

Some vampires, however, call upon these Hunters to settle their own messy inner disputes. Crime groups often use Hunters when they, for whatever reason, don't want to dirty their own hands. One of the most prominent of these groups was the House of Leech. 

Sent to the Leech Estate for a networking opportunity, you thought you were prepared for anything that could happen. However, when you were invited through those gilded double-doors, you were definitely not expecting to be met with a ballroom full of vampires. When you spent as much time discerning vampire targets as you did, you could spot the bloodsuckers on sight. And spot them you did, at least a hundred of them taking up the frankly gargantuan room. 

You almost wanted to laugh. You’d attended a few diplomatic meetings before; they were quiet, sordid affairs that took place in back alleys and occasionally defunct offices. They were never parties, never social gatherings - humans at a vampire party were snacks (both figuratively and literally). Even those breaking laws to call on Hunters didn’t see them as equals, but as tools to be used and disposed of. 

There were a number of possible reasons that you were invited here, now. Perhaps it was simply an issue of a conflicting schedule, or it was easier to squeeze in a quick meeting at the beginning of a night of festivities rather than a working day. But such a simple mistake was unbecoming of one of the most powerful vampire families. It left a bad taste in your mouth. 

You showed your respect to the butler, then stepped through from the hall to the ballroom. There was hardly any reaction to your entrance besides a few disinterested glances. You had been invited there on business, so you were dressed up, but among a crowd of almost literally sparkling inhumans, you looked (and felt) horrifically out of place. 

The sheer number of vampires here was a testament to how well connected the Leech Household was. The wealth of the room was almost oppressive, with rich tapestries and precious metals as far as the eye could see. Though HG was hardly lacking in funding, the massive gap between the two was easily ascertained from a glance. It was… intimidating. 

notes: Thank you to everyone who read this <3 I’m thinking about rewriting this/finishing it eventually when I have more time... I have a basic plot for the fic but feel free to share your ideas/headcanons/lore you’d want included.

#twsted wonderland #twst au #vampire au #octavinelle #twst #twisted wonderland

[dwaeki]

— felix as ur bf (random headcanons)

pairing: felix x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none other than maybe some slip ups and just poorly written fluff, not proofread, lower case intended!!!

a/n: i'm just bored and need to post so i decided to make this at like 3AM 😩🤝🏻 genuinely dont knownwhat i was writing here but i went with the flow so 😞

ok lets completely disregard the fact that felix is my ult and i am absolutely whipped for him.

he doesn't sleep early at night especially if he had a bad day at practice or made a lot of mistakes while trying to memorize the choreography to one of their new songs,

so he usually stays up for a little while playing video games on his PC while you sleep over at the dorms.

you're most likely there sitting on his lap, sleeping peacefully while your boyfriend tries to restrain himself from raging and absolutely destroying his expensive keyboard </3

(p.s he has a keyboard that lights up. most likely rainbow cuz idk HE GIVES OFF THOSE VIBES.)

the first time you sat on his lap while he was playing games he just fell in love with that idea

the feeling of your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you rest your head in the crook of his neck is just :(( y/n ure making him feel so loved :((

he's just rlly comfortable and feels at peace.

also when he feels a bit too overwhelmed or just frustrated he stops the game for a little while and wraps his arms around you tightly while inhaling your scent :((

he feels better right away <33

but you dont know that bcuz ure ✨asleep✨

but if he's feeling particularly tired he just plays on his phone

while you're both in bed, cuddling <33

PLUSHIES !! you guys collect a bunch of plushies <3

he likes plushies a lot so if u like plushies too you guys are just a perfect duo. you two are always on a look out for stuffed animals,

felix keeps a bunch of cents in his pockets just in case u find something.

if one of u spots a claw machine outside while you're going out or during an arcade date you're going to drop whatever you were doing before and literally run, leap, fly towards its direction.

"Y/N A CLAW MACHINE !!!!" "OH MY GOD GOGOOGOGO RUN FELIX GO DONT LET THE KID GET THERE BEFORE WE DO"

you two are competitive as hell when it comes to winning a stuffed animal & believe me felix doesnt go easy on you

especially if youre a sour loser cuz he teases you a lot.

it starts off with u two being competitive but ends with the both of you basically throwing all of your money away just to get a single plushie.

one time u hogged the claw machine for a little too long and you didnt even notice the line of kids waiting for the two of u to finally leave for good.

yeah... ure banned from using the claw machine at one of the arcades ... 😬✋🏻

he also lays his head on your lap... a lot.

he just loves feeling close to you so if he's sleepy and wants cuddles he usually just lays his head on your thighs (no matter the shape or size cuz we love all kinds of thighs here, love <3) , grabs your hand and plays with ur fingers.

you already get the message so you're quick to get up and move to the bedroom to cuddle

but if you don't get the message then he starts pouting and sighing dramatically, waiting for u to take the hint

but if ure still not budging then he just lifts you up and quite literally throws you onto the bed so you two can cuddle

(one time u bounced off the bed and hurt your arm... felix almost cried...)

he grumbles a bunch of incoherent words while getting under the covers

squeezes the living soul out of you the second he's under the covers. like ure literally left soulless.

HE'S LITERALLY A HUMAN HEATER SO BEWARE WHEN U CUDDLE IN THE SUMMER !!!

felix doesnt rlly have a favorite position to cuddle in, he likes any and every.

he loves being the big spoon, he loves being the small spoon

but he also rlly loves cuddling face-to-face <33 or maybe ur head buried in his chest :((

loves placing kithes all over your face or pecking your lips during cuddle sessions.

yeah... he's a sucker for physical contact 😚😚

he's also SO whipped for you you don't even understand.

everyone around him can tell that he absolutely adores you and everything you do

one time jeongin mentioned how utterly in love he was and how "disgusting & painful" it was to watch you two interact 😔

and felix was low-key like HELL YEAH IM WHIPPED AND IM PROUD !!!

doesnt care if anyone points out how much he loves u & doesn't deny it either bcuz YEAH!! HE DOES INDEED LOVE U VERY MUCH!!! WHAT ABOUT IT!?!?!!

he also gives the best presents !

he just always knows what to buy anyone he's very close with and the list ofc includes you :D bcuz youre his lover mwuah <3

buys you the best birthday presents, anniversary presents, holiday presents.

it's because he's observant !!

especially when it comes to you. if you eye an expensive outfit that you can't really afford at the moment or there's a fancy restaurant you want to go to, he will keep it in the back of his mind and will take it into consideration ;))

there doesn't have to be a special occurance for felix to surprise you with a present !!

even if the present he's getting you is pretty expensive its still for u and he wants to make u feel as appreciated and as loved as he can. so wasting money on you is never a problem as long as you're happy :((

the fact that he is observant also comes in handy a lot, because he can tell when you're uncomfortable by the small changes in the way you act like the furrowing of your eyebrows or you shift even closer to him, etc.

if it's a public space or an event where you have to socialize and interact with others and he notices you feeling uncomfortable he will take you to a less crowded place to give u a bunch of kisses and reassure you that everything will be just fine <3

he also knows what you like and dislike very well, so it's easier to avoid any arguments in your relationship.

virtual dates !!

he takes you on a bunch of dates on minecraft, roblox, animal crossing etc.

the dates usually happen while he's away on a tour and you two really miss each other </3

the first time he went on a tour he just really really really missed you and your voice

so he called you on discord and suggested that you play minecraft together. you created a new world and just started everything from the scratch.

so every time felix goes on tour you guys call on discord, get on minecraft and add new things to your world <33

your world includes but is not limited to: a huge pink mansion with a pretty backyard filled with flowers, a dog named "seungmo" and a cat named "lino" (as felix suggested you named them ✋🏻)

he once told you that one day you two are gonna get married (if you're willing to ofc) and live a perfect life just like in your minecraft world :((

even tho it was over the top to assume that you two would live in a gigantic pink mansion, it was still endearing and it made your heart melt <3

he really wants to spend the rest of his life with you because he knows you're the one :(

#felix x reader #lee felix #felix #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #felix x gn!reader #lee felix x reader #skz imagines #skz reactions #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #felix as your boyfriend #lee felix x reader fluff #felix x reader fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

[notcaelum]

in an attempt to cure my writers block, i challenged myself to write ~1k about the first topic that i could get more than a paragraph out of, so here’s 961 words about ian and mickey’s sleeping habits that aren’t good enough for ao3

---

Mickey remembers the first time he and Ian shared a bed. It was the night of their sleepover, and Ian had rolled over onto his side after they fucked and immediately started blinking sleepily. Mickey had tapped his face and teased him, because that was about as far as he could go in terms of affection at that moment, but otherwise, he’d left Ian alone, knowing that he probably hadn’t been sleeping soundly in that group home. It was terrifying, having a boy in his bed, but Mickey had slept well, too, comforted by Ian’s warmth and steady breathing next to him.

It’s normal now, sleeping next to his husband. Mickey likes the way things have been recently, even if things are on the west side for the foreseeable future, at least until the lease is up.They get their dose of chaos and danger throughout the day, running weed and large amounts of cash across the city. They carry guns and are forced to be vigilant so they don’t get robbed by Mickey’s fucking cousins again. They get cops riding behind the stolen ambulance they haven’t replaced yet, and their hearts race until they lose the guy and get to their destination, and at the end of the day, they get a pretty damn good paycheck and go home, where things are safe.

At their apartment, no one’s ever picked the lock or broken the living room window with a brick. No one’s ever bled on their kitchen floor. No one’s been smacked around for making a small mistake. There are no holes in the walls from bullets or angry family members.

One of Mickey’s favorite things about their lives as they are now is that he gets to share a bed with his husband every single night without fail.Their evenings have a bit of a routine now. It’s mostly for Ian, but Mickey finds that he actually likes knowing exactly what’s gonna happen for a few hours each day.

Once or twice a week, they’ll have dinner at the Gallagher house, where everyone else is still living. On other nights, one or both of them will make dinner, and they’ll watch a cooking show that Ian likes, or a movie Mickey wants to see, or a couple episodes of a series they missed out on when they were locked up, and they’ll usually be in bed by 10pm, because the meds Ian takes after dinner make him sleepy, and Mickey doesn’t see the point of staying up and being on an entirely different schedule than Ian.

They watch action movies in bed now, ever since Ian randomly woke up and saw Mickey watching police chases on youtube to help him fall asleep. The crashes and yelling and sirens remind him of home, and he sleeps much easier than he does when it’s silent.

Ian likes to lay half on top of Mickey a lot of the time. He always says he’s just getting comfy and making sure Mickey’s the one that’s facing the TV so he can see what’s going on, but he also says, every night, that he’ll move to his own side when he starts falling asleep, and every night, without fail, he’s asleep and drooling on Mickey’s chest no more that five minutes after saying that. Mickey would bet on it any night of the week, because it’s that consistent.

Really, though, he doesn’t mind. He loves Ian. He loves holding and being held by Ian, and they sort of get the best of both worlds this way. He likes to brush the hair out of Ian’s face when he lays down, and he likes to twist any rouge, curly bits around his finger to irritate his husband. Ian likes to put his hand up Mickey’s shirt and softly stroke his chest, stomach, or hip to help him relax. Every so often, he’ll accidentally hit a ticklish spot, and Mickey will jump, and if Ian laughs, Mickey sticks a finger in his open mouth when he has his eyes closed to get him back without jostling him so much that it makes it harder for him to fall asleep.

Sometimes, when Ian’s almost asleep, he turns onto his stomach and slides one of his legs between Mickey’s, smushing his face even closer to Mickey’s chest and neck. It feels even more intimate, having their whole bodies pressed together for no reason other than comfort while they sleep. Sure they can feel each other’s morning wood this way, but they don’t worry about that until they wake up.

Ian doesn’t really snore, thankfully. He claims that Mickey does, loudly, but Mickey will believe that when he sees proof. Ian does talk in his sleep, though. He once told Mickey about his plan to make sure his garden thrived once it was warm enough to plant, and he’s told a couple blackmail-worthy stories about Lip that Mickey’s waiting on an opportunity to use. It’s usually incoherent mumbling or small, breathy laughs, though, which might be one of Mickey’s favorite things in the world. It helps him sleep sometimes, especially on rough nights when the bad memories won’t leave him the fuck alone. Ian looks so beautiful when he’s relaxed, and seeing him so happy, even subconsciously, makes Mickey feel great about where their lives are at.

Adjusting to fully laying down without disturbing Ian isn’t difficult. He sleeps like a damn baby on their new cloud bed and the fancy-as-fuck pillows that came with it. Not that Ian uses those, not with Mickey’s chest right there.Mickey acts irritated sometimes, but he’s not, and he’s sure Ian knows that. He loves having his husband’s weight on top of him, anchoring him as he falls asleep every night.

#gallavich #mine #this isn't very good but whatever #hopefully it helps me get back to writing actual fics

[azurevi]

enstars charas with an overworked s/o

First time writing enstars🤡 this took kinda long becz exams but i hope its good ^^ also kinda self indulgent hhh

Characters : natsume, ibara, leo, tatsumi, arashi, keito

Natsume

Natsume watches from the doorway as your head bobs about, hands tapping unrhythmically on the keyboard. You're already falling asleep, yet you still refuse to go to bed. 

Normally he won't interfere with your work, knowing that you're fully capable of making the right decisions, but it's a pain seeing you pushing yourself so hard. 

"Still working?" he steps in, holding a steaming drink in his hands. 

Your head snaps up at his voice, and you nod. It's a project that you've put off for far too long, and of course, you have to suffer the consequences. 

"The deadline is two days later, if I don't finish this section today I probably won't make it in time,"

He sets the mug beside your hand, observing your wandering gaze and disheveled hair which you must've been running your hand through. "I don't think you can finish it, though. You already look worn out."

You raise the mug to your lips and take a sip of whatever it holds. The drink tastes sweet and refreshing in your mouth, and almost instantly your muscles relax. "You aren't any better, you know,"

That's true. Being a nightowl himself, Natsume's words don't really seem all that persuasive. At first you would lecture him about how little he rested, but you gave up eventually. You suppose he's built differently, seeing as he can still perform well after only three hours of sleep. 

"Pretty sure I'm in better condition," he says, pulling a chair beside you and popping down. The wood scraps against the floor, creaking slightly. It's usually a sound that you find unbearable, but you seem to have missed it as you try to continue your work.

"Come here, love," he stretches his arms out, wiggling his fingers expectantly. You raise a brow, contemplating whether you should give in. It won't be a surprise if you fall asleep right away in his arms. 

"But work…" you sigh, tearing your eyes from him. His shoulders drop immediately, a frown forming from the rejection. "You're just gonna leave me hanging? How cruel…"

You know he's just messing with you when he let out a dramatic huff, but somehow his defeated look still tucks at your heartstrings. 

"Fine, fine…" you sigh, sneaking your arms around his torso and burying your head into his neck. His chest hums with satisfaction as he digs his fingers into your messy hair, soothing out knots he finds along the way gently. With every stroke you're getting drowsier and drowsier, and you know that you're supposed to be working, but the feeling of his hand running through your locks and the steady rise of his chest convince you to stay. 

You fall asleep almost immediately after you close your eyes. Natsume calls out to you and smiles when he hears your slight snoring instead. It's probably the best to get you to the bed and tug you in, but he decides to stay in his spot for a moment longer and relish your presence. 

Ibara

Ibara knows from experience just how hard it can be to sway you when you’ve made up your mind. That’s why he doesn’t try to sweet talk you or lecture you into sleeping. 

No, if he really wants to get you to listen, he will have to trick you into it. 

Almost like a hunter watching his prey, Ibara leans against the doorway as he tries to come up with a flawless plan for his mission. Several empty cans are littered around the desk and he can already smell the aroma of coffee from so far away. You had your fist in your hair, and every once in a while you had to stretch your muscles awkwardly from the lack of movement.

“Don’t you think you deserve a break?” he walks towards you, peeking over your shoulder at the work you’re struggling with. It’s yet another project for the other units, and you seem to be stuck in a dilemma.

“I don’t feel like sleeping without finishing this,” you say.

“Right, but I think you added an extra 0 here,” he points at the paper you're working on, where the value had been increased tenfold because of your negligence. 

“Oh goodness,” you sigh deeply, immediately erasing the zero. “How amateurish of me,”

Ibara watches as you rub the space between your eyes, trying to soothe the looming headache that was making your work even harder. “It feels like all the muscles in my body died,”

“You’ve been sitting for hours after all,” Ibara suddenly smiles, his eyes diminishing into thin slits. You don’t need to hear anything to know that he’s plotting something behind the smile. “What if I give you a short massage?”

Well… that is unexpected.

“A massage,” you repeat.

“That’s right,”

Now that is interesting. You’ve heard from Hiyori about how good Ibara’s massages are for more times than you can count, and it’s something you’ve always wanted to try. It just keeps slipping your mind. A massage sounds just as appealing as a five star meal right now considering how tired your limbs feel.

“Come on, I promise it’ll be worth it,”

“Fine,”

His smile widens even more. “Alright then! Please get onto the bed,”

“You wanna do it on the bed?” you frown. “I’ll fall asleep,”

“It’s not gonna be long,”

This sounds way too risky especially with the amount of work that’s still unfinished, but his grin is unwavering, as if he already knows what your answer will be.

“God, alright,” you admit defeat and throw yourself onto the bed face first. There is a moment of quiet shuffling before Ibara settles himself behind you, making sure he isn't crushing you under his weight. His hands find their way to your back, and start working their magic.

"Normally I would get massage oils, but that'll be for next time," Ibara says in a low voice, as if trying to lull you to sleep. Hiyori was right about his skills -- you don't think you've ever had a massage so satisfying before. Somehow, he just knows where to knead and how much pressure to put. With every passing minute your muscles are getting looser, as is your mind. You almost feel bad experiencing this for free.

You're about to fall asleep when something suddenly jolted your consciousness, like a big slap to your face. You have no idea how long you've been laying down in that hazy state, but you've still got work to do.

"That was the most incredible massage ever but I have to work now…" is what you're trying to say, but the words come out too jumbled and incoherent to be understood. When you try to get up, Ibara presses you back down, insisting that he's not done with the massage yet.

"I'm going to fall asleep for real," you argue weakly as your body slumps back into the mattress. Ibara watches as your words cease and your face loosens up, mouth slightly ajar as you finally indulge yourself to sleep. Maybe you'll be mad at you in the morning, but seeing you rest makes everything worth it.

Leo

This is so, so ridiculous. 

You've been telling Leo to go to bed for the past two hours, but did he listen? Evidently not, seeing as he's clinging to your arm with half-lidded eyes that are failing him every two seconds.

"Just go to sleep first, kay? I still have tons of stuff to do," you flip the pile of complicated documents around, not wanting to spare them another glance. Alas, there isn't much time left before your work is due, and the only way you can think of to tackle this is to keep pushing through no matter how worn out your body feels.

Your head is throbbing and somehow your sight just won't focus. You're pretty sure you're starving too, but you feel no incentive to leave your seat and grab snacks. No, you have to finish your work as soon as possible.

This might've been a lot easier if not for Leo. In the middle of your working he suddenly jolted awake and whined about wanting to cuddle with you. It's no surprise though, considering how often the two of you cling to each other during your sleep, but tonight just doesn't work out.

"Aren't you tired too? I can't sleep without you…" Leo mumbles.

"Pretty sure you're falling asleep as you speak," you say, even though you shouldn't be the one talking right now, not when you're also getting groggy just from his warmth and presence. 

When you turn to look at him, his face is squished against your arm, mouth slightly ajar as he snores. To prevent him from waking up again, you decide to tuck him in.

Which is a big mistake, because just the sight of the bed is enough to knock you out. Also because Leo's not letting go of your arm even in his sleep.

"Come to rest, please…" he mumbles quietly and you sigh. Trying to work when your body is screaming isn't going to do much anyway, you suppose, and you flop yourself onto the mattress with the boy. Leo may be childish at times, but everything he does comes from wishing for your wellbeing. 

Tatsumi

Lying to Tatsumi feels like committing the worst crime ever, but the guilt of going to sleep with your work still unfinished is even greater. 

That explains why you're here under the dim light of the desk lamp against Tatsumi's advice, trying to fight the sleepiness getting to your head as you type away on the keyboard. Just a few more pages and you will go to sleep, you decide, but 'a few more pages' is looking a lot like five essays right now.

You lean back against the chair, throwing your head back. You dare not close your eyes, because you're sure a second longer than an usual blink and you'll be a goner.

"Come on, come on…" you return to the original position, shoulders slumped and eyes squinting as you try to string sentences together. What is usually an easy task has become an impossible mission, and the voice at the back of your head suggesting you to give up isn't any help.

Absorbed in your work, you fail to notice the ruffling of the blanket and the shuffling of slippers behind you. When Tatsumi sets his hands on the back of your chair and calls you, you flinch dramatically.

"Oh," you sigh after calming down. "Did I wake you up?"

"Not really," he says. "I thought you agreed to go to sleep,"

You grimace at his words that remind you how you made a false promise with him when all he wanted was for you to take care of yourself. "I know I did, but I couldn't really fall asleep thinking of all this stuff," you gesture vaguely at the screen.

"I don't think you're doing well though," 

As if trying to prove his point, a yawn escaped your lips and tears blurred your vision. "I suppose not,"

He sits back onto the bed, reaching out so that he can hold your hands in his. "It's no use trying to work in your current state, you know? I know that you're feeling stressed out from all the work piling up, but rest is important for your productivity too. And I'd hate to see you overworking yourself," he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's go to bed first, and we'll tackle whatever's on your plate tomorrow, alright?"

He doesn't have to say much to sway you. It's one of his charms anyways -- being able to persuade you without even trying.

Arashi

Arashi glances at the clock. 1am. You've been working at your desk since 8, and she can see that you're already starting to fall asleep.

"Sweetheart? You should go rest," she says softly, resting her arms on your shoulders from behind. This brings your mind back to the present, and you sigh realizing that you've zoned out once again.

"Is this due soon?" Arashi asks.

"Not quite, but I don't want to pile everything up. I'm supposed to finish this part today but so many things happened that hindered my plans," you rub you the corners of your eyes. "And I'm already feeling tired,"

"Then you should probably sleep, right? Lack of sleep can mess your face up easily," she turns to cup your face, professionally observing your skin and missing the blush on your face. "You still look cute, but I'd be really sad if you became a victim of sleep deprivation~"

Her voice sounds light and casual, but you can tell that she's genuinely worried about your health. You pull her into a hug, burying your head in her clothes. She always gives the best hugs, hugs that understands you without having to exchange words, hugs that reassure you and rid you of anything on your mind, that remind you even if the world turned its back on you, you'd still have a home to come to.

"Let's go to bed," you suggest, voice woozy. 

"Sure, but let's do some skincare routine first!"

You always enjoy doing routines with her even though you're never one to pay much attention to yourself. But something about her being close and taking care of your face makes you feel at ease, and with her soft hands working on your cheeks, you quickly fall asleep.

Noticing your dropping head, Arashi lets out a sigh before carrying you in her arms, planting a light kiss on your forehead

"Sweet dreams, my love,"

Keito

When you started dating Keito, Kuro was quite delighted. One because he never believed someone could actually put up with the man, and two because someone can finally keep an eye on his atrocious working schedule.

What he didn't expect though, is that you're just as much of a hard worker as Keito. 

As the night passes, the two of you are still working incessantly. Except from the occasional small talks, there's only the sound of paper and keyboard in the room. The tea he brewed a while ago has already been emptied. You turn to look at the green-haired man, and although you can only see his back, he doesn't seem to be too affected by all this work. Perhaps his monstrous workload back in Yumenosaki Academy has turned him into a machine who doesn't feel tired.

But that can't be true. Surely, overworking a lot doesn't make you immune to it. Keito may not be vocal about how he feels, but he's still a human, and he's bound to feel tired,

The tapping sound on his end pauses abruptly as he turns to you, only to meet your observing eyes. This startles him a bit, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You should go rest-" he glances at the clock on the wall and frowns. "-it's already so late,"

"You're one to talk," you retort.

"I can still function without sleeping, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard,"

There it is again. He never seems to acknowledge his own weaknesses, only paying attention to others as he hides his feelings inside the myriad of work thrown at him each day. 

"No one can 'function without sleeping', Keito. You're not a superman,"

"..." 

Keito's shoulders are still tense, but he seems to be deep in thought as he isn't working on the computer either. After a moment of silence, he shakes his head and resumes typing. Perhaps he's reminded of his responsibilities, of the various roles that he plays, and how he can't afford to let anyone down.

As always, it's hard to move Keito. You brush it off and turn back to your work. 

It isn't until Keito stands up to get himself a new mug of tea that he realizes how drained you look. Your eyelids are drooping and even from far away he can notice errors on the computer screen. Your figure is slouched, leaning towards the table like you just want to fall asleep right there but can't.

"You should really go to bed," Keito walks to you, hand resting on the chair's rail. 

"Are you going to come with me?"

"What?"

"Are you going to come to bed with me?" you repeat.

"I still have work,"

"Then I'm not gonna rest yet,"

Keito raises his brows. "Are you threatening me with your own health?"

"If this is what I need to do for you to rest, then so be it,"

Silence fills the room. He watches as you tap away on the keyboard, re-typing every once in a while because your fingers just can't seem to find the keys. It's almost painful to watch.

"How incorrigible," Keito sighs. "Alright. Let's go,"

You jump to your feet immediately, dragging him to the bedroom. "No sneaking out after I fall asleep, okay? You have to rest for real,"

"Fine," Keito grunts.

The moment his head falls onto the pillow, he swears he can slip into dreamland right away. You throw your arm across his torso and he instinctively rests his head atop yours, listening as your breathing becomes more and more calm.

The both of you may be hopeless cases, but you always find a way to hold each other up.

#enstars x reader #ensemble stars #enstars #natsume sakasaki #ibara saegusa #leo tsukinaga #arashi narukami #tatsumi kazehaya #keito hasumi #sie writes

[little-butterfly-writes]

Wednesday

Yoosung Kim X Reader [y/n]

Author’s Note - Sorry this took so long! I also apologize if the ending seems rushed or if Yoosung is OOC. Thank you to the lovely @latte-delf for requesting this, it was an honor to write for you. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings - There’s a brief mention of a panic attack and slight bullying! I’ve tagged where it starts and ends if you’re uncomfortable with that. Lots of time skipping cuz I can’t fucking write. This is unedited, please tell me if there is any mistakes.

I hate him.

I hate him so much!

He stole the position of class president from you three years ago.

Yoosung Kim. He stole my position by two votes. Two. Votes. I was always class president before that! Yet he took it from me. My classmates even had the audacity to say he was a better president when it was time to vote for a new one! Sure, Yoosung was intelligent and popular, but he only won because the girls found him handsome.

And of course, he just (HAS) to go to the same university as you do. Sky University was supposed to be a place free of Yoosung Kim. At least he hasn’t seemed too interested in studies this year. He has failed almost every pop quiz your professor has handed out. Whenever you see his down face, you can’t help but giggle a bit.

I dislike how he’s majoring in the same thing as me still. It feels like he’s saying he can do better. Though his grades haven’t been showing that. He must realize that I’m superior than he ever will be.

~~~~~~~~~~

On Wednesday during your last lecture, you diligently take notes and listen to your professor. You make sure to absorb every bit of information that you can. During the last twenty minutes, your professor makes an announcement. 

“Students, I will be assigning a project due at the end of the month. You will have to find out the evolution of the animal as well as their behaviors. Please include any infectious diseases that they can carry. I will be giving you partners to make the workload easy.” You shrug your shoulders, can’t be too bad.

You wait until your name is called, which takes awhile since your name is lower on the list. You pray to whatever god is out there to not get Yoosung as your partner. 

Apparently, the gods refused to listen to your plea. Your professor calls your name out, “[y/n] [l/n] and Yoosung Kim...you two will have the koala.” A loud groan escapes your mouth at the name.

“ Class is dismissed. Have a good day.” You quickly pack up and speed walk out the lecture hall. Yoosung rushes up to you and taps your shoulder.

“Hey! Wanna exchange numbers so we can find time to work on the project?” The blonde smiles at you. You roll your eyes. “No. I’m going to do it on my own. You can play your stupid little game.” He frowns at your snappy words.

“Are you sure? I’d feel bad if you took all the work by yourself. We also have some tests coming up, so it’ll be a lot to take care of.” The genuine worry in his voice ticks you off. You write down your number on a loose piece of paper and shove it into his chest. Yoosung struggles to keep it off the ground as you walk away.  The walk to your dorm is full of your mumbled curses.

~~~~~~~~~

A chill on Saturday morning wakes you up. You grumble as you check your phone, seeing a text notification from Yoosung. He delivered it at 3:45 am. He’ll be an especially lousy partner today. The previous day, Yoosung invited you to his dorm so that you could work on the project together, to which you begrudgingly agreed. 

You arrive at his dorm within a five minute walk. Your notes and laptop are nestled in your backpack. After a quick rap on the door, Yoosung answers. His hair is mussed and his eyes look droopy. You scoff and push your way inside. Surprisingly, his place is a lot neater than you expected.

“So, should we make a slide and divide the work.” He asks. “I’ll do it on my own, go find something else you can do.” You jab. Yoosung lets out a frustrated sigh and speaks up. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but it’d be a lot easier if we shared the load. Plus, this is my grade as much as it is yours.” You grumble an ‘okay’ and split up topics to focus on. Both of you take turns borrowing your notes and his textbook. 

Around two hours after starting, you and Yoosung decide that you worked enough for the day. He offers to get takeout, to which you agree to. You’re a broke college student, how could you refuse? You sit on the floor with your back against the couch, too brain fried to think. Yoosung plomps on the small couch he has and lets out a groan.

“Want to watch Bulu or something on my laptop?” He offers. You nod your head. Yoosung opens his laptop and signs in to his streaming service. You decide to watch ‘The Workspace’ as you wait for your food. 

Your food arrives. Both of you continue to watch your show. Cheap pizza has never tasted this good. Maybe you’re just so hungry and tired to the point where you don’t even care. “Sorry if it isn’t too good. It was the only place I could find on FoodHub.” He apologizes softly. “It’s okay, I’m too hungry to care anymore.” You earn a chuckle from him. There’s an odd silence after that.

“Uhm…. hey, [y/n]?” He speaks shyly. “What?” You say in a cranky voice, irritated about being disturbed from your slice. Yoosung struggles for a minute before speaking for a minute. “Did I do something to offend you? You seem like you have something against me...”  You stiffen. (TW) Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. You honestly never expected this to happen.

A can of worms open up. Your breathing slowly becomes ragged. Averting your gaze doesn’t help, you know his amethyst ones are on you. A wave of panic crosses you. You stammer something incoherent to him. “A-are you okay? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to..” He hurriedly apologizes. You grasp tightly at his wrist, wanting to ground yourself to something. Yoosung’s pulse is a bit fast, yet it helps you regain focus. He awkwardly places a hand on yours. “He….hey, It’s okay.” For once, his voice is actually reassuring. 

“Back in highschool..” You murmur. “You won student president even though I had been the president the years prior.” He looked shocked, eyes wide and lips a bit parted. “I remember. You worked really hard on that campaign.” Yoosung gives you a lopsided smile. “Since I didn’t win, people who I reported causing issues started to bully and harass me. Even some people who I used a slightly harsh tone with mocked me.” Your eyes started to sting. “Oh [y/n]...”

“The worst part of all, my parents were upset that I didn’t get the role again. They scolded me for not doing good enough.” (TW End) Yoosung can only pat your back. You don’t know what to think about it. He seems to think that as well, seeing as his hand jumps off you like he was scalded. “I uh… think I should go now. I’ll Lendmo you money for the food…..See ya.” You pack as quickly as possible and run out as fast as you can until you’re out of breath. A block away from Yoosung’s dorms, you stop to take a break. Warmth sets fire to your face when thinking back to being with him. Maybe it’s because you’re embarrassed? Maybe you’re just winded from running. 

There is NO. WAY. your face feels hot because of Yoosung’s comforting presence. There can’t be, it's impossible. You slap your cheeks in an attempt to compose yourself. It doesn’t work.

~~~~~~~~~

Its been a week since you’ve talked to Yoosung. He tries to talk to you, but you always scurry away when he gets too close. He’s even tried texting and throwing notes at you in class which the two of you got in trouble for. It’s only on a Wednesday that he finally catches you in the hall before you run off. The grip of his hand on your wrist is firm, but not to the point of pain.

Yoosung sighs and looks at you. You turn your head away slightly to avoid his burning gaze. “Please don’t be mad…” You hear him suck in a breath. “Mad? Why would you think I’m mad?” Your bottom lip trembles. “For avoiding you..” Yoosung releases your wrist and pats your head. “I’m not mad, I’m worried.” His hand slides down to your shoulder. “I know this won’t really help, but I’m sorry for what happened to you. You’ve been holding this feeling of hate because of some stupid people.” You giggle at his insult to your past peers.

But why do your cheeks feel blazing again? Why are there little butterflies in your stomach? There’s a slight squeeze on your shoulder before he retracts his hand. You wish it was still there so badly, that spot feels cold now. “How about going to my place? We can relax for a bit then work on the project.” He offers. You nod, maybe a little too eagerly as you hear him laugh. Why does he look so cute when he smiles?

You take the bus to his place, the campus being a bit far from his dorms. You immediately collapse on his couch and place an arm over your eyes. The groan that comes from your lips is loud and dramatic. Yoosung laughs loudly, oddly comforting you. He sits by your legs, looking rigid. “So uhm...do you still hate me?” You look him dead in the eye. “Only if you’ll teach me how to play that stupid game of yours.” You smirk. “LOLOL isn’t stupid!” He whines. You start laughing. The scowl on his features make Yoosung look like a puppy who hasn’t gotten a treat. You laugh harder.

Yoosung rolls his eyes. “Fine. I guess I’ll teach you.” You wipe away the tears from your laughing fit and sit up happily. He retrieves his laptop and starts up LOLOL. You notice that the both of you are inching towards each other. “I’ll make your own account just in case you want to play again.” “You mean so I won’t mess up your save file?” Yoosung flounders as you let out a hearty chuckle. You put your email and username in. “ShootingStar_[y/n}? I like it!” He guides you as you create an avatar looking similar to you. You decide to be a mage. During your tutorial levels, you have a hard time navigating with the mouse. He places his right hand on top of your hand on the mouse. Your heart beats erratically while his hand is on yours. There’s a slight blush creeping up on his face as well.

By the time you finish, it’s nearly evening. You take out your laptop while Yoosung logs out and goes into the presentation. You guys spend six hours working, editing each other's slides and practicing presenting. It’s around 12am when you two are content with your work. Yoosung orders some sandwiches from a 24 hour restaurant. 

You decide to stay over since its late. Yoosung lets you sleep on his bed while he takes the couch. His bed is like sleeping on a cloud, so soft and warm. You let yourself drift off peacefully.

~~~~~~~~~

On a Wednesday, you and Yoosung have to present your project in front of the class. His face looks pale, his hands are shaky. “Hey, you okay?” You pat his back. He gulps and nods. “Just a little nervous. It's been awhile since I’ve given your last presentation.” It's your turn to pat his head. His face immediately goes a bright shade of pink.”Wh-what was that for?!” “You did that to me last time I was sad. Besides, I think you’re just mad because you know I’m going to beat you in LOLOL tonight.”  He quickly pouts. “I shouldn’t have shown you PVP mode!”

Your presentation goes well. As you leave your class, your professor hands you a rubric. “Nice work, guys.” He gives you a smile. Yoosung meets you out in the hallway. You both peer at the paper. There’s a huge ‘A’ on the top of your paper. Yoosung looks at you with wide eyes. “Oh my god… I can’t believe we did it!” You jump up and down in exuberance. Yoosung hugs you tight. You can’t deny that you have feelings for him anymore. You kiss his soft lips.

~~~~~~~~~

On a Wednesday, you chase him down the hall.

“Get back here!” You yell. “Make me!” This childish man. You continue your chase until you’re outside on campus. He suddenly stops dead in his tracks. The shock of him giving up so quickly nearly makes you trip. You would’ve become a pancake on the pavement.

“Yoosung Kim, I hate you so much!”

He chuckles warmly. “I love you too”

Yoosung presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll buy you another sweet bun for you. Forgive me?”

“Fine, I guess I forgive you….I love you too..”

You press a kiss to his cheek, relishing in the warmth of the sun shining above you.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger yoosung #yoosung kim #enemies to lovers #cheritz #mystic messenger yoosung kim #mysmes #mysmes fluff #mystic messenger fluff

[inkrabbit]

Jisei - Sandayu Oda

I finally did it. The one-shot I wanted to do for Oda is complete. This story takes place after “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, and if V goes back to save Takemura. There are 2 different endings, and they are both labeled. Also, words written in italics are just Oda speaking Japanese.

Also, a bit of a spoiler for the secret ending! Especially Takemura’s part in this story’s Bad End!

Summary: A month after the events at Arasaka Tower, Oda manages to track down Takemura in order to ask him for one thing: forgiveness. The result of V’s actions have been eating away at the man, and he feels as though the last person he needs to express his remorse to is his old master.

Trigger Warning: Mentions and actions of suicide, blood, and gore

Word count: 1,732

 He failed. After years and years of trying to prove himself better than his master, he failed. Perhaps now he could understand Goro’s pain when Saburo died; that ultimate hopeless and defeated feeling. It made him ill, and as he knocked back another shot of whiskey, he grit his teeth, slamming a fist down on the table. Arasaka was in shambles, Hanako had hidden herself away to grieve, and Sandayu? Well, he couldn’t bring himself to show his face. Twice he had failed, and twice he had beaten himself up over it. V, that despicable merc, had ruined everything. All he was and all he stood for had been reduced to nothing but ruble and regret.

 He had thrown himself down to the feet of Miss Arasaka, pleading for her forgiveness. She had granted it, a gentle caress to his cheek with a sorrowful smile. But it didn’t make him feel better. He started out the first week groveling and feeling sorry for himself, contemplating committing seppuku in order regain any sort of honor to his name. But something nagged at him, and what would’ve been his final words were crumpled up and thrown into the trashcan that resided by the old motel’s bedside.

 Hanako had been nice enough to finally tell Sandayu of Goro’s fate after the general fall of Arasaka, and after he had gotten over his self-loathing. The only redeeming quality he could find in V. The merc had run through a hail of gunfire to go back and save Goro, and the man had been in hiding ever since. Oh, but that didn’t stop Sandayu from trying to track the man down day in and day out, desperate to reach out to him. Goro had always been there for him, even when he was supposed to be strict and cold during training. He needed the man’s forgiveness as well.

 It took almost a month, but he had finally done. Sleepless nights and determination had led him out to the Badlands, heat beating down on him and his hair sticking to his forehead. The motorcycle he had “found” was parked across the street in an old abandoned parking lot, and Sandayu found himself walking towards an old store. Any last traces of Goro had led back to this spot, a lone building that he couldn’t even identify. He could see why it was chosen. Walking up, however, he stops. The old dusty windows show his reflection, a broken and strange man who barely even recognized himself anymore. His dress shirt was wrinkled and open, the black tank top underneath clinging to his body as sweat made the material damp. His once nice slacks were replaced with jeans, torn in a couple places from recent fights he had found himself in when traveling out to get food. He looked horrible and felt more ashamed the more he stared at himself with tired and lifeless eyes. Shaking his head and taking a breath in, he continues into the old store.

 Cobwebs and dust clutter the building, along with trash and insects. Sandayu can feel his skin crawl as he travels deeper into the outlet, scanning all he can. Nothing comes back useful and he searches every nook and cranny. Old books, candy wrappers, cans and bottles, some paper bags that once contained food. But as he travels further back, he finally spots it. Large double doors and seem to lead to a second level. Anxiety picks up as he walks forward, pushing one of the doors open and listening intently.

Good End:

The sound of soft footsteps catch his attention as he travels down the old stairs. His heart leaps when he sees Goro at the bottom, standing in front of a counter, his back facing him. He looked in better shape than Sandayu, his own dress shirt still pristine as he picks up a shot glass, knocking back the contents. Gathering his courage, Sandayu stands at the bottom of the stairs, hands in tight fists as he inhales deeply.

“Takemura-sama!” he calls out. Goro jumps, eyes wide as he whips around, pistol at the ready. His stance falters as he eyes at the younger man, who’s bowing deeply before him. “Please, forgive me!”

“Oda…?” Setting down the weapon, Goro straightens himself, even daring to walk a few steps forward as Sandayu picks himself back up.

“I have not only failed Hanako-Sama,” he continues, “but I have failed you as my mentor. Please, forgive me. I was not enough.”

 The two stand in silence, Sandayu searching Goro’s face, desperately trying to find out what was going on through the man’s head. Finally, Goro sighs, coming forward to gently grasp his shoulder.

“You should not apologize, Oda-san,” he sighs. He gets ready to fire back, insist that he did, but Goro cut him off. “When Saburo-sama was killed, I was filled with deep regret. To have failed my only duty when I could have prevented it. I think about everything I could have done differently every day.”

 Sandayu stands there, listening intently. They hadn’t spoken since their last meeting at the docks, and he had never heard of the man’s anguish until now. How he described everything… it’s exactly how he felt now.

“Sometimes, things happen. And we cannot stop it,” he goes on, leading him over to the counter. An opened bottle of sake sits next to the shot glass, and Goro fills it up, offering it to him. “Saburo-sama was to be killed, and I could not stop it. What happened at Arasaka… you could not stop it, Oda-san. It was, how one would say, “the hand they were dealt”. And we must accept that.”

“Arasaka was everything to me…” He stares down at the contents in the glass, his grip tightening. “And it just-”

“I understand,” He glances up, though Goro’s gaze is focused on the bottle in front of him, staring at it with distant focus. “I have… been reading a lot of jisei as of late, and have found peace in some of them.”

“Takemura-sama,” That’s when he notices it. A small wooden box a few feet away, the top open to reveal an old looking tantō. He feels his blood run cold.

“Just like you, Arasaka was all I had,” he continues, finally bringing himself to look at the younger man. “but you have nothing to apologize to me for, Sandayu. You were the most brilliant outcome of my entire career.”

 With one last glance to the tantō, Sandayu slams the glass down and envelopes Goro in a tight embrace. The man catches himself, steadying his balance as he slowly brings his arms up, wrapping them around the younger man. They stay like that for a while, the silence almost deafening.

“What do we do now, Takemura-sama?” Sandayu finally asks, his voice soft as he slowly pulls away. Goro sighs, but gives him a small smile.

“We take time and heal,” he tells him. Turning, he shuts the lid of the box before picking up the shot glass, knocking back the sake. “I believe it would be easier to do it together. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes.”

Bad End:

 There’s nothing but the sound of his own footsteps, and for a moment, he’s worried all of his hard work had gone to waste. Maybe Goro wasn’t here? Maybe he had made a mistake somewhere, his exhaustion causing him to be faulty in his search. But as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and starts for the next set, he stops. No.

“Takemura-sama!” Sandayu’s voice is shrill as he cries out his master’s name, nearly falling down the cement steps as he rushes over to the man. Goro was here, alright. And Sandayu was too late. The man was laying on his side in a puddle of his own blood, a few pieces of paper sprawled out around him. He sobs as he kneels beside the man, pulling him up and into his lap, his eyes glazed over and his body limp. He caresses his face, incoherently speaking to the man, pleading for him to come back. The only person he felt he had left in this world was currently laying dead in his lap, his hair having been taken out of its bun and the ends soaked in the crimson water.

“Goro, please!” he cries loudly, shaking the man, slapping his cheek, trying anything to make him come back. “Do not leave me! I need you! You have always been there for me, so why not now?!” He stops for a moment, unable to look away from the older man. His body was still warm. Had he been sooner… “… Why couldn’t I be there for you?”

Taking Goro’s hand in his own, he gives it a tight squeeze, trying to calm himself. He finally looks around at the papers that were scattered across the floor, scanning them. All appeared to be jisei and it made his stomach churn. The bloody tantō lies a few inches away from him, and it just fuels his slowly burning rage. Why couldn’t he had been faster? Was he already dead by the time he parked the motorcycle? Should he have called out for the man?

Instead of getting up and trashing the place like his body screamed to do, he instead leans his head down, pressing his forehead to Goro’s and closing his eyes. He speaks internally, and he speaks fast, stumbling over words as he still heaves shaky breaths. He hopes the man can, somehow, somewhere, hear what he’s saying. How he asks for him to forgive his failures and how he thanks him for all he had taught him. He apologizes for their last meeting, and he tells him how he longed for them to just a day together.

Finally, he gently lowers Goro back to the ground, closing the man’s eyes and admiring him. He finally looked like he was at peace, his muscles relaxed and for once his eyebrows weren’t knitted together. He picks up one of the poems, wondering what was going through Goro’s head in his last moments. None of the poems resembled his handwriting, leaving him to wonder what his jisei would’ve read. Setting the paper down, he looks over to the tantō. All throughout his apprenticeship, he had followed in Goro’s footsteps exactly. And as he stands here now, he wonders: Should I continue to?

#cyberpunk 2077 #fanfic #sandayu oda #goro takemura #tw #suicide #blood #gore #some spoilers

[intheticklecloset]

Spill It (Invader Zim)

I was finally in the mood to write a new fic! I personally think this one is super cute. Hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Invader Zim

Shipping: ZADF, slight ZADR

Requests Filled:

Zim’s antennae as tickling tools

Zim teasing Dib in front of his dad

“You’re only teasing me because you like me!”

Dib challenges Zim to keep his arms up for once

~

“Sure, Dad, spaghetti sounds great,” Dib said to his father through clenched teeth, his whole body tense. He knew he had to be blushing, which only made this situation worse. Once again Zim discreetly poked his side, and Dib had to resist the urge to react in any way. “Uh…about how long do you think until it’s ready?”

“Oh, another fifteen minutes or so,” Professor Membrane replied in his ever dramatic, declarative voice. “You boys should start on your homework in the meantime. Having a good education is very important!”

This time Zim pinched Dib’s side, making the human let out a small “eep!” that he quickly tried to cover up as a good-humored laugh at what his father had said. He took a step away from Zim, making it look like he was getting ready to go upstairs. “You’re right, Dad. We’d better get going, huh, Zim?” He shot the alien a glare while his father wasn’t looking.

“Indeed,” Zim declared, smirking, not even trying to hide how pleased he was with himself. “We must keep our grades up if we are to have a future.” He wiggled his fingers out of Professor Membrane’s eye line, grinning at the darker blush it pulled from Dib.

“You two are acting strange,” Membrane remarked after a moment. “Stranger than usual, which is saying a lot. Are you all right? Is school causing you any stress?”

The only thing that’s causing me stress is this confounded Irken! Dib wanted to scream, but instead he shook his head quickly and grabbed Zim’s wrist, practically hauling him past his father and up the stairs, shouting over his shoulder as he went. “Nope! We’re fine! Everything’s fine. Just let us know when dinner is ready and we’ll be right down!”

As soon as they were at his room, Dib shoved Zim inside, closed and locked the door behind them, then turned and lunged at the alien who – amazingly – actually seemed to be taken by surprise. Dib wasted no time in digging into Zim’s sides and using his tickling powers to force his friend to the ground so he could straddle and pin him there.

“Wait!” Zim cried, laughter already filling up the room. He slapped his hands over his mouth in an effort to rein them in. “I was going to tickle you!”

“Oh, heck no. Not after that stunt you just pulled down there.” Dib half-growled, half-chuckled at his friend, who was very quickly losing his composure. He dug in a little harder. “You were practically begging for this, Zim. Now lay there and take it like a good little alien.”

Zim bit back a squeal, laughing and squirming beneath Dib but – as usual – not protesting in the slightest. After a minute Dib smirked and, still tickling, demanded: “Put your arms up.” When Zim didn’t comply immediately, he said more forcefully, “Arms up, Zim.”

Zim whined a little, but did as he was told and stretched his arms up above him and held them there, giving Dib much easier access to his torso. He focused on Zim’s sides quite a bit, but also deviated to his stomach and ribs when the mood suited him. Another couple of minutes went by before Dib decided to be mean.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” he hummed teasingly, his fingers deep in Zim’s ribs, clawing at them. “Tickle, tickle, tickle the ticklish Irken soldier~”

In an instant Zim’s face was flushed blue and he lost all control of his laughter, shooting his arms back down to cover his mouth again and keep from being heard or discovered by Professor Membrane or Gaz. “No, Dib!” he wheezed, squirming crazily. “Don’t do that!”

“Excuse me? I don’t believe you’re the one in charge here,” Dib mock-snapped, moving back down to squeeze Zim’s sides and thus enhance his friend’s distress. “You want to tease me in front of my dad? Fine. I’ll tease you right back.” He lowered his voice to the register Zim used on him and continued. “Tickle, tickle!”

“Stop!” Zim pleaded, shaking his head. He brought his arms down further to try and pry Dib’s off of him. “Dib!”

“Put your arms up, Zim,” Dib demanded, “before I tie you to the bed and tickle your hips until the whole neighborhood hears you screaming with laughter." To make his point, his hands slid down a little to just barely press into the Irken’s hips.

Zim let out a whine of protest, but his arms shot back up above his head nonetheless.

“Good alien.” Dib had never said that to Zim before, but here in this moment it appeared to really be messing with his friend, so he kept it up. “Now where was I? Oh, yes. Tickle, tickle, tickle!”

Zim clutched his wrists together above him, clearly fighting to remain quiet enough not to draw attention from downstairs. But despite his obvious distress, it was clear he was loving this, too. His huge smile and unstoppable giggles said as much.

“Not as fun when you’re the one trying to keep it together, huh, Zim?” Dib mocked. He poked sporadically in the alien’s underarms, watching with satisfaction as he jumped and squeaked and giggled. “How does it feel to be teased without being able to react the way your body wants to?”

Zim let out a noise then that sounded like a cross between a ticklish laugh and a scoff. “You’re only teasing me because you like me!”

The accusation was so far from what Dib expected to hear in reply that he faltered and came to a complete stop. Zim let slip a few residual giggles and took a couple of breaths before focusing on the human, and immediately he realized he’d said something wrong. Dib climbed off of him, muttering, “Is that a bad thing? You seemed to be enjoying it.”

Zim hurried to recover his mistake. “I was! I didn’t mean I didn’t like it.” His words came out in a rush. “I meant only that you weren’t teasing me for revenge, as you were trying to get me to believe. Maybe that was part of it, but I know you just like to make me helpless to stop you.”

Dib was blushing again now, shifting uncomfortably on the floor. “I…I like teasing you because I know you like it, mostly. But it is cute to watch you react so strongly to what I’m saying, and…” He bit his lip to keep from saying any more. “Never mind. Let’s just…get ready for dinner.”

“And what, Dib?” Zim asked, grabbing onto his friend’s arm when he moved to stand up. “It’s fun for you to watch me react, and what?”

“Nothing, Zim.” Dib tugged gently, hoping it would be enough to free himself from the alien’s grasp, but he should have known better. “Zim.”

Zim tugged as well, strong enough that Dib kind of toppled forward, landing practically in the Irken’s lap. Zim situated himself behind Dib and wrapped his arms around his middle, trapping him. He smirked and tilted his head downward so his antennae were able to easily reach Dib’s neck and ears. “Tell me.”

Dib tensed at the unfamiliar yet still ticklish sensation across his neck, instinctively squirming, but Zim only held him tighter. Before he could stop it, a panicked giggle escaped him. “Zim, stop—”

“You know I will tickle it out of you if I must,” Zim replied coolly, his voice having lowered to that kind of teasing tone that really messed with Dib. “But do you really wish for me to make you laugh so loud your father hears you and comes to check on you?”

Oh, god. Dib could feel the heat of his blush on his ears already, even before Zim’s fingers dug into his sides in tandem with the light brushing of his antennae against his neck. The human sputtered, giggled, tried to fight back. “No, no, no. Please, no. Zim—”

“Very well.” Zim stuck out his tongue and let it glide along the side of Dib’s neck, grinning in triumph at the squeal of laughter it elicited. He let his fingers dig into his friend’s sides deeper. “Then tell me what else you enjoy about teasing me.”

Dib’s heart raced. He’d been tied up and tickled by this alien multiple times, but handcuffs on his wrists hadn’t made him feel nearly as helpless as he did right now. Laughter bubbled up out of him before he could stop it. He fought against Zim’s grip to no avail. He wasn’t going anywhere and he knew it. “Zim, please! No! Please, it tickles!”

He was referring mostly to the Irken’s tongue on his neck and antennae brushing his ears, but coherency had flown out the window the instant Zim had him trapped. The Irken, for his part, merely chuckled darkly. “That’s rather the point, isn’t it?” He let his hands slide up Dib’s sides to his ribs, inching closer to the spot that would force the answer from him. “Tell me.”

Dib couldn’t explain why, but a part of him really loved this. This side of Zim – the darker, more sinister alien he’d known as a kid – along with the teasing and the desperate desire to keep his mouth shut while knowing at the same time that once a certain spot was tickled, the information would come spilling out of him in an unstoppable rush of incoherent babbling and pleading for mercy.

Interrogation? He wondered through his laughter and squirming. Zim’s arms remained locked around his torso firmly, tickling him in three places at once, gradually forcing Dib to grow more and more desperate. Do I like being tickled into spilling information?

“Last chance, Dib,” Zim said suddenly, bringing the human out of his reverie. “Tell me what you like about teasing me or I will tickle your bad spot and force it out of you.”

Those words! Dib shuddered, their meaning settling over him like a layer of dust he couldn’t shake off. Still, a tiny thrill shot through him at the same time, and before he realized it, he found himself playing along despite his flustered state. “Do your worst. I’ll never tell you anything.”

Zim paused for a moment, slightly thrown off by Dib’s sudden display of bravado. Then, with a wicked grin, he wrapped his legs around Dib’s hips, effectively pinning the boy’s arms to his sides while Zim’s fingers plunged into the tiny crevice that gave him access to Dib’s underarms and dug in relentlessly.

Dib regretted everything immediately. He tossed his head back and laughed, struggling and thrashing but getting absolutely nowhere. If that weren’t enough, Zim not only focused on one of his hot spots with merciless precision – his tongue was still gliding over his neck, making everything tickle so much worse!

“Stop, stop!” Dib pleaded, laughter bursting from his lungs without permission or control. “Please! Zim!”

“Aw, where did all your resolve go, human? I thought you said you’d never tell me anything.” Zim chuckled. “That’s fine by me. I’ll just have to settle for making you beg.”

“I’m begging! I’m begging!” Dib screeched, knowing his laughter was growing louder by the second and unable to do anything about it. He laughed and laughed for a good minute, allowing all the tension to leave his body with it before finally caving. “Stop! Please! I’ll talk, I’ll talk!”

“Yes, you will talk.” Zim’s voice was in that low and sinister register that Dib found so effective. “And I will not stop tickling until you do. So spill it, you helpless Earth worm.”

Good lord, who taught Zim how to tease like that?!

“Agh! All right, all right!” Dib cried, still laughing as he sputtered, “I l-like teasing you because I l-like watching you lose control a-and hearing you beg!” He continued to laugh for another few seconds, then implored, “Please, stop! That’s all, I swear!”

“I don’t wish to stop,” Zim replied, his voice lighter now, more playful. “I wish to hear you laugh more.”

“Zim!” Dib pleaded, struggling. “Please! You can tickle me after dinner! All night if you want! Please – my dad will be calling us down any second!”

At that Zim did stop, allowing Dib only a few moments of recovery before humming, “I can tickle you all night, can I?”

Dib groaned. When was he going to learn to keep his mouth shut?! “W-Well…okay, maybe not all night, but I’ll let you tickle me after dinner, I promise!”

“Until you have to say the safe word?”

“Y-Yeah. Sure.”

Finally, Zim released his hold on Dib and scooted so he was sitting next to the human, who quickly tried to re-comb his hair with his fingers and straighten his clothes out like he hadn’t just been tickled into submission by his best friend.

“You like to watch me lose control and hear me beg, then?” Zim asked, his tone curious.

Dib sighed, blushing, unable to make eye contact. “I…yeah. It’s cute to watch you crumble into giggles when I tickle the right spots. And hearing you beg…I don’t know. There’s just something really satisfying about hearing you yell ‘please.’ Since you love being tickled so much it’s hard to get you to actually beg me, but when you do and I can hear how desperate you are, it’s just…” He swallowed, shrugged. “It’s…intoxicating.”

“Perhaps now you see why I enjoy tickling you so much, Dib. Our reasons are not so different. I like when you are at my mercy and both of us know it.”

Dib blushed. “Yeah…I guess you’re right.”

“Boys!” Professor Membrane called from downstairs. “Dinner’s ready! Whatever you find so funny, pull it together and get down here!”

Zim and Dib stared at each other, eyes wide, blushes darkening.

“He…he heard us?” Dib asked.

“He heard you,” Zim replied, getting to his feet. “I was under control.”

“You were able to cover your mouth! I couldn’t do that!”

“No. But it was so delicious to hear you laugh like that. I couldn’t allow you to cover it up.”

Dib grumbled under his breath as he unlocked the door. “So when he asks what we were laughing at, what are we going to tell him?”

Zim shrugged nonchalantly as he breezed past Dib out the door. “I don’t care. As long as I still get to tickle you afterward.”

#tickling #ticklish #tickle #tickle fic #fanfiction #invader zim #spill it #zadf #zadr #interrogation #tickle fight

[sweetestgrethan]

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

Part two of this lil drabble

—————

It’s the night of graduation that Grayson realizes a couple of things.

One: They had gone too far. Way farther than just getting off.

Two: He didn’t mind that it had gone beyond that. He’d faced the facts months ago, or at least tried to, and instead ended up drunk and belligerent at Ethan’s door at 4 in the morning. Bad idea considering he still lived with his parents, but Grayson didn’t know how to act when he was drunk. He realized how much it would suck for Ethan to leave and how much he truly felt for him, despite promising himself he wouldn’t do that to himself. He regretted showing that side of himself to Ethan, completely incoherent and sad and worst of all, in love. He didn’t exactly spill that last piece of information that night, but he knew it was at least easily deducible that he had some feelings for Ethan

Ethan drove him back home that night and sat with him as he threw up all the damage from the night before. Ethan helped him clean up and called in for both of them, despite Grayson’s insistence that he could handle a hangover. Ethan kissed him hard and told him he didn’t want to leave him. Grayson cried, regrettably, right in front of the boy again, still revealing nothing and everything at the same time.

On graduation night, instead of heading to all the parties and having one last hurrah with his friends, Ethan showed up at Grayson’s door and said he loved him. That he wanted Grayson to come with for college and he wanted a life with him, away from everyone they knew and from the scrutiny in their gazes.

Grayson didn’t say anything at first, instead wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him until they were both breathless, because he felt the same. He hadn’t been the best at handling the fact, but he’d felt like saying ‘I love you’ for months now.

Grayson really likes California. He feels so free here. He lands a job in the English department at Ethan’s school, and he feels like he’s gone insane. He’s never had this, someone that made him want to throw everything away for the sake of them. Uprooting himself from Jersey was hard at first, especially saying goodbye to his family, but he regretted nothing. Grayson cherished the fact that Ethan made it so worth it. He had never loved someone as deeply as he did him.

Grayson teaches upper-level classes, so he doesn’t get to see Ethan for most of the day, which is probably for the best. They’re not at a high school anymore and Ethan is technically of age now, but it would make it a lot easier if no one knew about them just yet. Grayson meets him in some far off corner of the parking lot every afternoon and they drive back to their apartment. Ethan makes it a point to explore their new home town, despite how tired Grayson claims he is at the end of each day. Most days they end up at outlooks, or driving down long highways back home, eating in tiny diners and exploring what life has ahead of them. Grayson loves his life so much now, he isn’t sure how he lived so long without Ethan before.

Their favorite spot at their place is at the window bench in the master bedroom. Ethan loves to sit at it and watch the hustle and bustle below them, but he really likes when Grayson crowds against him while he’s sitting there, plopping himself down in his lap and kissing him until they’re both too pent up to not touch.

Grayson likes the spot at night, when the room is completely dark, save the light from the city coming in through it. Grayson rides Ethan on the comfy bench until his thighs shake, until Ethan grabs his hips and forces him up and down on him, until he comes between them with a soft cry and Ethan carries him to the bathroom to clean up. 

Grayson feels like he’s too old to keep up sometimes, wonders if jumping into this was a mistake that he couldn’t see right now, has a lot of thoughts run through his head at night that always get soothed by Ethan cuddling up behind him and pressing kisses to his neck and shoulders. He squeezes him tight and everything else fades away.

Grayson is grateful. Everyday. He wouldn’t change how his life had gone for anything.

—————

#grethan #grethan drabble #cont #drabble challenge 1-150 #ethan dolan #grayson dolan #wombmates

[abunchofsemicoherentwords]

Interrupted (Lipstick Stains Part 2)

Summary: Part 2 of Lipstick Stains. Follows right where it left off with she and Tom getting steamy in the bathroom.

Part 1: Lipstick Stains

Pairings: Reader (?) x Tom Holland

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: A little swearing and some smuttiness

A/n: I know, I know, it took me forever, but this was hard to write. I just hope you guys like it as much as the first one. I’m actually so tired rn so ima go to sleep, but hopefully you guys will let me know what you think. Also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list. Love ya x

Masterlist

She walked right back up to Tom, grabbed his shirt front and pulled his mouth against hers. She needed him. Now.

Their kiss grew intense, fast. She pushed him, his back hitting the wall roughly. Her arms wound around his neck and his around her waist. She couldn’t seem to get close enough to him. Their bodies already pressed together, she lifted her knee to his hip and wrapped her leg around his thigh. His hands found her ass again and once more, he lifted her up. When her legs tightened around him, he spun them, trapping her between the wall and himself.

He slid a hand between their bodies, squeezing her breast. She moaned against his mouth. He dropped his head to the crook of her neck, leaving butterfly kisses all over her delicate skin. He returned to her sweet spot, doing all he could to keep her moaning. The sounds falling from her parted lips were the best thing he had heard. The fact that he could do that to her, fuelled his desire.

He kissed back up along her neck and jaw, capturing her mouth. It was messy and heated, a battle for dominance. He tasted the lingering alcohol on her tongue. What else does she taste like?

He moved his hands to her legs and pushed them down a little, indicating that she return to the ground. Without breaking their kiss, her feet touched the floor. He placed his hands on the back of her thighs where her dress had ridden up. Grabbing the hem, he pulled it, over her ass and past the curve of her back. As he continued up past her chest, she stretched her arms above her head. Their lips parted for a moment as he pulled the dress off her completely and threw it to the floor. They didn’t miss a beat, resuming their kiss immediately.  

His hands roamed her body, the skin on skin contact so enticing, trailing from her back to her hips to her stomach. He pulled away and stared deeply, eyes dark with lust. He slowly fell to his knees in front of her, kissing over her bare skin, lower and lower. She let her head fall back against the cool tiles. He glided his hands up the back of her legs, squeezing her ass before hooking two fingers into the waistband of her panties. He paused, waiting for permission.

“Please,” she breathed.

He didn’t waste a minute more, dragging the lace fabric down her legs. She tangled her fingers in his hair, anticipating that first touch. He gently spread her legs and started just above her knee, one kiss, so light. She sighed softly. He teased her with another, just millimetres above the previous one.

“Tom,” she whined.

He chuckled softly, the vibrations against her skin sending tingles up her spine.

“Oh, no, darling, I wanna savour this,” his voice was low.

He continued kissing his way up, mouth open, leaving a trail of wetness.

“Please, Tom,” she whimpered.

He was almost there, right where she needed him. Her fingers tightened their grip on his curls.

And then, ripping them from their reverie, there came a loud banging on the door.

Her eyes fluttered open, goose bumps rising all across her skin. Adjusting to reality under the glare of the bathroom light, she suddenly felt exposed and very vulnerable.

Tom pulled away from her, turning to the source of the interruption.

“What?” he yelled, exasperation evident in his voice.

“Dude, hurry up! Sarah’s about to throw up all over your floor,” an urgent voice called back.

“Fuck.”

He returned his attention to her, but she was already tugging her dress on with haste.

“This was a mistake,” she muttered, as she ran a hand through her hair.

“Wait, what?” he stood up.

He wet a towel, wiping the lipstick smears off his face. She grabbed it from his hand, and did the same.

“This was a mistake,” she repeated firmly, handing the now-stained cloth back. She refused to meet his eyes. A quick look in the mirror convinced her she was decent enough.

Without any further explanation, she opened the door.

“All yours,” she said to the pair waiting outside. She stepped out of the way, as they rushed in.

Taking a deep breath, she held her head high and made her way back to the party. She tried to ignore Tom behind her. She knew he was eager to talk to her, to ask her why it was a mistake, to figure out what happens now; but she wasn’t. The sooner she could forget their encounter, the better.

Upon entering the living room, she spotted Kat. She saw her eyes light up at her appearance, a cheeky grin spreading across her face and excitement visibly bubbling. Excusing herself, she came bounding over.

“So, you and Tom, eh?” she asked, nudging her in the ribs.

“For like five seconds, yeah – and then I found my dignity.”

“Oh shut up and give me details. It’s about time you two hooked up. Tell me everything.”

Her mind wandered back to the bathroom. She recalled his face buried in her neck, writhing in his grasp, skin burning everywhere he touched her. She remembered the pleasure she felt with his lips pressed against her thigh, creeping higher and higher.

Feeling very hot, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears, she kicked herself mentally. You need to get a grip.

“I need alcohol,” was all she told her friend.

*

Two hours and many shots of vodka later, she was standing on the coffee table, singing off key, dancing to her own beat. She was very drunk.

Most of the guests had left already, the final stragglers wishing Kat and Haz farewell. Tom was busy cleaning up, collecting cups and empty plates into a trash bag. He couldn’t help looking at her now; he hadn’t been able to help stealing glances in her direction all night. Since she had left him hanging earlier, he didn’t know what he felt. The proud, stubborn part of him was mad at her. Maybe it was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. Although there was another part of him that was sorry they didn’t get to finish. Man, the way she said my name.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, forgetting her soft skin and sultry moans. Kat and Haz walked in, it was just the four of them now. They both looked at her and Tom and exchanged a look.

“It’s late, we should sleep. Let’s clean up tomorrow,” Haz said to Tom.

“Yeah, I’m beat,” Kat agreed.

“No, no, no, I’m not tired!”

The three of them turned to see her teetering at the edge of the table, swaying unsteadily in her heels.

“Someone should get her.”

“I love her, but I’m so sleepy right now,” Kat groaned, draping herself over Haz’s shoulder.

“Come on, love, I’ll put you to bed,” he smiled down at her.

“Tom, are you okay to put her to bed?” he indicated the other girl, now mumbling incoherent lyrics.

With a sigh, he nodded.

“Yeah, you two go to bed. I’ll take care of her.”

“Great.”

They bid him goodnight and left.

He sighed again, putting the trash bag on the floor and turning the music off.

“Hey!” she cried.

“It’s time to go to bed, darling.”

“No, Tommy, I wanna dance some more,” she lifted one foot and tried to do a pirouette. However, completely lacking any stability at this point, she lost her balance. He darted to her side. Too stunned to make any noise, she toppled straight into his waiting arms.

“That was close! You’re my hero, Tommy.”

She leaned into his chest, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so nice,” she crooned.

“Okay, you are really off your face right now, aren’t you?” he asked, supporting her as she went limp.

“I’m thirsty.”

“Alright, let’s get you some water,” he said, holding her up and guiding her to the kitchen.

Pouring her a glass of chilled water, he handed it to her. She raised it to her mouth, but in her intoxicated state, half the liquid spilled down her chest.

“Oh, that’s cold!” she giggled.

“Great, now you gotta change. Honestly, darling,” he grumbled.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and walked her to his bedroom. He sat her on the edge of his bed and went to his wardrobe. He chose a sweater at random.

She was lying on her back, legs still on the ground. Her eyes were closed and she was humming a tune only she knew. There was a goofy smile on her face. She was quite adorable.

“Up you get, darling,” he pulled her back onto her feet.

There was no way she would be able to change herself, so he took it upon himself to undress her for the second time that night.

She giggled again.

“Do you wanna kiss me, Tommy?”

“We already tried that, love, didn’t work out too well,” he replied.

“Aw, that’s too bad. I wanna kiss you.”

He pulled her arms through each sleeve, ignoring her.

“There,” he said, checking her over. His jumper hung loose on her small frame, it reached halfway down her thighs and her hands were engulfed in the sleeves.

She yawned, covering her mouth with a sweater paw.

“Seems you’re tired after all, darling,” he pulled back the covers. It would be easier to allow her to sleep in here, and he take the guest room instead.

“I like when you call me ‘darling’.”

“Come lie down,” he smiled. She lay down and snuggled in as he tucked the covers around her. Leaning over her already, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Will you sleep here? Next to me?” she gazed up at him through drooping eyelids.

He paused, considering her request. Then he kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the bed beside her.

He wriggled under the covers and she shimmied back against him. He spooned her, folding a strong arm around her stomach. Her hair tickled his cheek, and he huffed, blowing it away. He liked the way she felt, nestled into his chest, legs entwined with his. He could get used to this.

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

“Goodnight, darling.”

They settled in. He waited for her breathing to become even before he too, fell sound asleep.  

Part 3: Sleepover

Tagging: @tommysdarlin @lionfart @bisexualmomfriend @girlwith100names @jjgirl4797 @spideyontherun @unfoxs @oswald-1998 @settlebackeasy @spideytomsbutt @spxderman-s

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman: homecoming #spiderman imagines #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming imagines #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #interrupted #lipstick stains #part 2

[darling-archeron]

Terrible Decisions - Feysand Week #7

Yes, yes. I know Feysand Week ended yesterday and that I still haven’t posted days 4 and 6. This week was really busy for me and I irresponsibly had basically nothing prepared, but I will do all the fics at some point! This is a bit rushed, but I hope you enjoy it!

“I have made a terrible decision today. It might be the worst mistake of my life.” Rhys announced dramatically the moment he stepped into our flat.

I looked up from where I was sprawled out on the couch with my sketchbook. “Isn’t that what you said last week when you put half a bottle of extra-spicy seasoning on your taco?”

My roommate rolled his eyes. “I may have, but I actually mean it this time.” I sat up, swiftly closing my sketchbook before he could see my drawing. “What happened, then?”

Rhys sat down next to me, running a hand through his raven-black hair. “Do you remember Amarantha? She’s in my history class – you met her last week when we ran into her at Starbucks.”

How could I forget? Though the red-haired woman didn’t have devastating, ethereal beauty that would’ve made her almost cliché, the way she carried herself made up for it. Maybe I was too judgmental, but to me she looked like someone who would stomp over your heart and laugh about it.

Naturally, I didn’t say that out loud. “Of course – it was only last week. How bad do you think my memory is?” I poked him in the side teasingly.

He slapped my hand away playfully. “She asked me out today.” 

“Did you say yes?” I made sure to keep my tone neutral.

“Yes. Honestly, I was a bit intimidated by her.”

“Amarantha? She seemed confident when I met her, but not scary.”

“I didn’t say she was scary. I said she was intimidating. She’s a powerful person – cunning, clever, maybe a bit too vindictive to be completely healthy. She once lost it at some guy for not remembering her name. I figured it would be easier to just go on this date to appease her – hopefully she won’t ask me out again.”

I raised a brow. “Wouldn’t have just been easier to let her down gently when she asked you out then at the end of the date?”

Rhys sighed. “I was put on the spot, I can’t change what I said now, dear Feyre. I’m meeting her at seven tonight.”

I gave him a half smile. “Good luck, then. If you’re not home by eleven I’ll assume you’ve been kidnapped by yet another swooning woman desperate for your attention.” I kept my tone joking, but there was a grain of seriousness buried in it. This was what we did – looked out for each other, traded quips with each other, kept each from being alone.

I knew that was all we would ever be. It was true that I had fallen in love with Rhysand sometime in the past two and a half years, but it seemed unlikely he would ever reciprocate. Hell, I didn’t even know if he was interested in a serious relationship – none of his girlfriends seemed to last for more than a few months.

Whatever his relationships might be like, I would be forever grateful for the day I saw an advertisement for a roommate wanted and had moved in. We both helped each other on the bad days, waking each other up from nightmares and talking through them. I would be forever grateful for him pulling me out of the darkness, introducing me to his friends who cared about me when no one else did.

He interrupted my thoughts, speaking softly but steadily. “What about you – are you going out with Isaac again?”

“No – definitely not. I think I’m going to just stay single for a while.” I replied, as cheerfully I could manage. I thought something shifted in Rhysand’s eyes when I said it, but it disappeared with a blink.

I only gave him a bright smile and a “have a good time!” when he headed out the door, spending the rest of the evening watching Lord of the Rings and texting Mor.

Rhys came home a few hours later, in a surprisingly fine mood.

“How was it?” I asked him.

“Not as gut-wrenchingly horrible as I thought it would be, actually. We’re going out again on Monday.”

I almost spit out the cracker I had been chewing on. “You’re going out with her again? What about her being “a bit more vindictive than is healthy?!”

He shrugged. “She’s not so bad, once you sit down and have a conversation with her. It was a perfectly pleasant first date.”

I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it like a gaping fish. It’s none of your business who he dates, anyway.  But I couldn’t help but notice the way his tie was loosened and askew, his silky hair a mess as though someone had been pulling on it during a kiss. - Rhys went on several more dates with Amarantha, and as much time as he seemed to be spending with her, he never had much to say about her.

“How’s Amarantha?” I asked him politely one rainy afternoon.

He looked up from the crossword he was doing momentarily. “She’s fine.”

“Just fine? You’ve gone on over half a dozen dates with her and that’s how you’re feeling?”

My roommate looked up again, giving me a stiff smile. “Everything’s great with her. Do you know a four-letter Tony Award winning musical?”

“Rent?” He checked the puzzle, giving me a nod.

“Thank you, darling.”

I forced a smile, pretending not to notice how he had changed the subject. He doesn’t have to share his love life with you – you’re his roommate, not his diary. All the same, I couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under Rhysand’s eyes – as though he wasn’t sleeping. I asked him about them once, and he gave me an excuse about classes being difficult that I didn’t believe for a moment. He seemed perfectly happy until I awoke, bleary eyed, one night at one am to the slamming of our door.

I jumped out of bed, pulling on a flannel button up over my flimsy tank-top and shorts. The sound of the footsteps let me know it was Rhys, and I cracked open the door of my room – and was greeted by the sight of him hunched over on the couch, head in his hands as broken sobs came from his chest.

I crossed the room to sit next to him, his head jerking up in surprise as I sat down. “Feyre. I didn’t mean to wake you – I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “What’s wrong?”

“I broke up with Amarantha.”

Of all the things I had been prepared to hear, this hadn’t been one of them.

“I’m….sorry, Rhysand.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head. “No – I’m not upset because I broke up with her – I hated her, actually.  She was a spiteful woman desperate for the empty encouragement of someone.”

“Then why……why have you been dating her this long?”

Rhys shook his head. “The same reason I’ve tried to date so many others. I know there are plenty of women who would be glad to kiss me or spend the night. She was an absolute bitch, but in some ways she’s broken just as much as I am. The only difference was that she had let the darkness inside her fester and rot. All the same, I thought she might understand. But when it came down to it, she was just like the rest when she saw me waking and throwing up or having a bad day – she couldn’t ever truly care about me. Because who would want that – who would want to bother with someone like me – a mess?” His voice broke and my heart shattered for him. “I wasn’t able to care about her, either.”

He paused again, taking in a deep breath. “I’m love you, Feyre. I’ve been in love with you for a while now – you saved me. I understand if you don’t feel the same way and I don’t want to make you feel obligated to do anything, but I need you to know. I thought dating someone else might distract me from how much I care about you – but that was a terrible decision. You deserve all the stars in the sky, and someone better than me, but-”

I cut him off. My heart felt like it was going to fly out of my chest, my brain an incoherent jumble of emotions I could a few solitary tears running down my face – I probably looked like a sad raccoon since I hadn’t washed off my eyeliner before I went to bed.

“I don’t think you’re a mess, Rhysand. Gods, you’re one of the best people I know. I’ve loved you for so long - you saved me when no one else cared and I don’t want you to ever think those things about yourself.”

I scooted over to him, sitting myself awkwardly on his lap. “We’ve both got a ways to go - we’ve both made mistakes. But we’re healing.”

Rhysand didn’t say anything at first – I think we both relished in the silence after the proclamations that had just tumbled from our lips.

Then, slowly, he turned his face to mine, giving me a gentle kiss on the lips. I melted in his arms.

“I love you, Feyre.” He whispered, drawing out my name. Fay-ruh. I smiled – a real, true smile.

“I love you too, Rhysand.”

He gave me a grin in return, one that lit up his beautiful face. “Why did we wait so long to tell each other?”

“More terrible decisions made by both of us, I think.” I told him, recalling his first words as he stepped in the apartment all those weeks ago. “But now – now I’d like to give us a try.”

He pulled me closer. “I would, too.”

We sat like that until the dawn came, curled up in each other’s arms, relishing this new thing between us.

#acotar #feysandweek17 #feysand #feysand fic #acomaf #acowar #kat's writing

[tracingpatterns]

The Political As Personal

In the post “Psychological Harm is Physical Harm” Nora Samaran writes about her hope that the discomfort occasioned by the words and behaviors of the current administration will serve to make people more aware of what abuse looks like. Imagine all the things Trump is doing -- the distortion of reality, the repeated avoidance of accountability, the reframing of calls for him to check his bad behavior as a crusade against him from opponents, the media, his own party -- happening to you behind closed doors without anyone beside you to tell you that no, you're not crazy, he's not actually answering your questions, he's not actually reflecting reality with his words, and yes, he is actually responsible for the harm he does and he is actively trying to evade responsibility. His apologies are not apologies and his answers aren't answers.

That's what gaslighting looks like. That's what distorting realty looks like. Do it long enough with a person you've isolated and you will cause severe damage. This is what abuse looks like.

It's very easy to think that we can spot those lies a mile away, that we can see what he's doing. But remember: we have the advantage of space. We have the advantage of many people -- some of them quite prominent -- echoing our nagging feelings that the current situation isn’t normal. Victims of abuse rarely have that.

For them, Trump's behaviors happen in private, with no support at all, with no one to affirm their gut feelings that what they're hearing doesn't tally.

Samaran writes:

We live in a world where empathy for survivors needs to be consciously cultivated. Our world, in so many ways, is backwards. When friends first asked how it had happened, some wanted me to show them a metaphorical cup of abuse on a kitchen table, when the trouble was that the abuse and the bystander dynamics are the whole house. It took time and deep listening for them to understand what I had been through. How can I explain that the harm is so large that we are inside it, that only once you bear the brunt of it do you see how it was around us all along?

Abusers have two main features that distort their perceptions, according to the helpful book Why Does He Do That? They have an inappropriately large sense of their own entitlement and an inappropriately shrunken sense of the rights of others; and they perpetually center themselves, which leads them to systematically disregard the feelings, needs, and experiences of other people, typically while denying they are doing so.

They will depict normal expectations that we all have of one another – such as ordinary family responsibilities or acting with emotional reliability for our loved ones – as distressing encroachments on their (inappropriately expanded) sphere of entitlement, and will depict the normal interdependence and mutuality of intimate relationships as an excessive imposition on their presumed right to center themselves at all times.

They will story themselves, for instance, as having ‘given and given and given’ when the things they are ‘giving’ are below even the ordinary normal expectations of basic interpersonal obligation to those one is intimate with. (Like describing ‘not lying’ as a gift, or ‘going to see a psychologist when she begins to believe I’m abusing her’ as some sort of extreme generosity, when these are just the basic things one does to be a decent human being.)

Any attempt to name harm (such as to ask them to stop) is received as criticism, and criticism threatens to call their self-story into question, and this self-story is all they have for a self (until they get sufficiently motivated to stop, and to recover the lost part of themselves that would do moral consistency and emotional connection). That is why they use words to try to control reality, and attack or isolate anyone who tries to bring a bit of reality back into the equation. (“I have all the best words,” he says, his face beaming into the living rooms of the nation.)

The author of Why Does He Do That, Lundy Bancroft, has worked with thousands of abusive men over the years. He writes that the only way to get a clear picture of what is happening with men who abuse is to check what they say against information provided by their exes and partners. There is no other way to get a clear picture, because abusers are not accurate sources of information about themselves or others. (“I never supported the war in Iraq,” Trump says, while audio clips that show he’s lying are readily available). As Bancroft’s research tells us, the only way to counter gaslighting is with powerful, repeated doses of reality.

This is why when an abuser gaslights a partner or former partner, he also seeks to talk one-on-one (and preemptively) to those a survivor might go to for help, to convince them of a narrative that would lead bystanders to refuse to even speak to the survivor, to cut off attempts to check the abuser’s story against any external reality.

Deeply listening to survivors, fact checking the partial-ommission stories that those who abuse use to deflect and avoid accountability, takes energy and empathy and time, and may take acting against the current of socially “polite" behavior. It is so much easier to toss up barriers to seeing gendered violence especially when, without cross-checking, the abuser’s narrative feels so truthy, and when even seeing the abuse might mean recognizing that we may have inadvertently become part of it.

A mistake we make as bystanders is to attempt to use our own Rolodex of emotional experiences to empathize with the survivor – or to try to figure out the abuser. But empathizing with abuse survivors takes a different set of skills. Empathizing with survivors means stretching out of experiences we have already had, and into deep listening to the experience they have just had, or are still having, which may be completely outside our lived experience. Our own Rolodex may just not provide the information we need to comprehend what they are telling us has just happened to them.

Meanwhile, empathizing with abusers can lead us to endlessly derail the centering of survivors, which is exactly what the abuser wants. It can also lead us to project our own ethical impulses onto the abuser’s actions, which would make sense if this were a reasonable person acting – but the whole point is that no matter how nice he may be to his friends or colleagues, the abuser’s actions in the context of intimacy typically do not make that kind of sense. Imagine trying to imagine why Trump keeps saying “I did not support the war in Iraq,” or how he can say phrases like “no, I’m not racist against Mexicans. I’m building a wall. A wall between here and Mexico. I have no problem with Mexico. I’m building a wall.” You could imagine an empathetic reason for this incoherence that comes out of your own Rolodex of experience, and it would just let him evade accountability, because he does not make that kind of sense. Abusers’ actions make another kind of sense: an abusive, entitled one. But they do not make ordinary empathic sense, so trying to empathize with an abuser who is evading accountability often just means throwing the survivor under the bus.

Bystanders may not comprehend the full depth of the harm, because of a mistaken idea that physical violence is somehow ‘worse’ than psychological violence. Well, if he didn’t hit her, we think, maybe it wasn’t that bad. I mean, we all have bad days, right? We seem to have this mistaken assumption that abuse just means coming home a little grouchy and having a bad day. We think only of our own range of experiences, and may find it hard to really hear what the survivor is telling us.

The core of all the different forms of abuse is typically the inability to take accountability for one’s actions, the inability to hear when we are harming another, the inability to own our mistakes or grow from them in a way that actually does repair. While we do need a culture that can foster accountability without ostracizing, we first need a culture that actually does believe and center survivors of gendered violence (in all its forms: rape, assault, gaslighting, control of family funds, threats to leave if the abuser’s whims are not catered to, etc.). We need a culture that can do accountability at all.

#bystanderism #community response #intimate partner abuse #intimate partner violence #ipv #emotional abuse #abuse bystanderism