#( don't forget the deadline is today !! )

[foone]

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

[cyberstabbing]

so dizzy and so out of it and once again my life in spiraling out of control due to my own laziness and procrastination

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

First, let me apologise for making people worry. I appreciate all those who reached out and I'm sorry that I couldn't get back to you all.

I have been through a very rough spiral. It was building for months, and I am still not fully okay.

For those who want context, it's under the cut.

I bought a house in May. It's expensive. I wasn't ready financially or in many ways for that step, but my partner convinced me. I told him as much but I was not heard. Alas, I have a mortgage, full time work, astudent loan, and an ongoing school program to contend with. It hasn't been easy and it caught up to me.

At the same time, a person who traumatised me and I have no way of fully extricating from my life, has moved closer. To keep the peace, I have to associate with him to a degree and he pretends that nothing ever happened. To him, it was nothing.

In June, I moved. It was hard and fast paced. I did most of the paperwork etc for the whole process and obv helped with the physical transition as well. I was responsible for deadlines and checklists for not just myself but my partner.

I was plugging holes in a sinking boat.

At the same time, I had obligations to my family. Every weekend if I wasn't dealing with the house and all that goes into it, I was running around to babysit or see family or whathave you.

In July, I pinched a nerve behind my tailbone. I missed a week of work bc my injury but it took longer for my to recover. I am still feeling it today. It was more than physical, but emotional.

I also got three periods that month. Hormonal can't begin to explain how fucked up I've been.

On top of all that, there are underlying issues associated with other trauma and discontent. I'm realising that I have been loyal and tolerant to the point of my own detriment.

I don't want to hurt people how I've been hurt, so I don't speak up. When people tell me something about myself, I let all the doubts planted in my mind from years of abuse convince me that they're right. I can admit my faults but often times I will think that proof of one flaw means everything about me is rotten.

People forget about me or just don't care. Both or either. They don't put the same effort in that I do. I find it hard to connect because years of disregard and neglect have told me that the other side just won't care.

But I'm not just hurt, I'm angry. I'm seeking therapy and trying to figure this out.

It all boiled over after my last post. Nothing I do is enough. For anyone. Not even when it's a hobby. I was frustrated bc the place I use for escape just made me feel like less than.

Obviously, I don't mean everyone or even the majority. I appreciate the discourse and fun and everything here! There are so many awesome people to interact with and I have missed you all, however, my headspace was bad. Very bad. I had thoughts I haven't dealt with in years.

I put my nose down and just went to work. I didn't wanna talk to anyone. I didn't wanna be in the world.

I did some reading, eventually some non-fandom writing, and sometimes, I just stayed alive.

I don't know if I'm really okay but I'm trying.

To those who have been so patient and supportive, you deserve everything. To those who are silent supporters, you do too. And even to those people who send me the most vile hate, you deserve to lift yourself out of the dark space you're stuck in. Hopefully, I can, too.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 8

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Unprotected sex, oral (f.recieving), morning sex, mention of kink and size (I think it's that?), strong language, pet names, multiple orgasms.

Minors do not interact!!!

Bang Chan

The day I met Aria when my father introduced us to eachother a week before our wedding, some instinct told me she will be the death of me.

And I was right.

With those soft curls, brown eyes, that small beauty mark on her chin which was unwantedly attractive to my eyes, she is going to be why I'll lose every sense of control I've had of myself.

Every part of me wanted to have her last night, to make feel like she is the one and every part of her drove me crazy. Because my mind was tipsy, I wouldn't have been able to worship her the way she deserved. But one day, which isn't so far, I will have her.

It's obvious Aria desires me the same way I do, but fuck, my mind is never straight when I'm around her. Maybe Hyunjin was right. I should try talking to her sober. Instead of like a fucking alcoholic.

Never in the 26 years of my life was I ever attracted to woman the way I was attracted to Aria. She held something, a magnetic pull in her voice and in every single thing about her. A part of me wants to get lost in my world with her, forgetting about any deadline of us.

I woke up before an hour before sunrise, sitting in front of my laptop, I worked until I heard the birds chirping outside my window. Which I think was the first time I ever heard them since I moved into the mansion last year.

I usually either wake up late or don't sleep at all, depending on what I do the night before but ever since my father brought up about the marriage topic and I got married to Aria, my mind has been focusing a lot on work than anything I used to do when I was in Europe.

I was never a workaholic back then, not even when I first got the COO position, I don't know what fucking alien took over my body.

"Once you bring her home, you will understand that life is more than just partying Christopher"

My father's words replayed in my head again, echoing through the morning silence. He was right, as much as I hate to admit it.

My mind drifted back to the day of our wedding. Despite the conversation about the agreement the two of us had the night before, Aria's face was swelled with happiness on the wedding day, a smile I remember like it's a photographic memory. It's now that I'm realizing, that the smile was masking the uncertainty she must have felt.

Maybe this new focus. This relentless drive to work, was a distraction from her, my way of providing for her, of ensuring that our future was secure, well, at least for a year. But still, the change was startling.

Back in Europe, my nights were filled with laughter, music, and the constant thrill of the unknown. My friends used to joke that I would never settle down, that I was a free spirit, untethered and wild.

Yet here I was, grounded and, dare I say it, domesticated.

I looked up at my calendar on my phone, I didn't have any plans today neither was I in the mood to go to the office after finishing half of the work at home itself, I thought to check up on Aria and see if she had any plans. I quickly freshened up, ruffling my hair, I left my room and walked to hers at the other end of the corridor.

Once I reached the door to her room, hesitation crawled but like Bin said,

"If you want to make it through the next 300 whatever days without losing your fucking mind, maybe try talking to her. Really talking."

I had lock my ego up in a cage and properly communicate with her.

As I was about to knock on the door, it swung open revealing a cutely sleep-rumpled Aria, tousled but fixed hair and pillow crease on her face.

It looked like was expecting me to be at work, she instantly covered her chest, seeing the view in front of her.

She was wearing just a silk camisole and boyshorts, that gave me a view of too much of her flawless skin. The top did barely to cover those sweet, peeking nipples.

My jaw tightened at the sight at the same time sending an electrifying shock straight to my cock. Was she roaming the mansion like this when I was at work?! Almost half-naked while my staff was around?

"Chris, oh my— what are you doing here?" She stammered, her hand over her chest and eyes wide with surprise. They fell on my bare torso first and then met my face earning sly smirk from me.

"I...um. I just thought to— check up on you—"

Fuck.

The words kept coming out of my mouth before I could process them in my brain but I managed to keep my gaze fixed on her face.

Aria's eyebrows drew together, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." I replied quickly, cursing at myself that this was again, a bad idea.

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "I thought you were supposed to be at work." Her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Took the day off," I said rubbing the back of my neck and sliding my other hand in the pocket of my shorts.

"I just," I swallowed, "I wanted to see you" I finally admitted.

"Oh," She was unaware of what to say next and so was I. The moment seemed to stretch like an eternity and I fucking hated it.

"Alright then," I turned to walk downstairs but her soft hand held my wrist stopping me. "Chris wait," Her brown eyes locked with mine, steady breathing but I knew she still felt slightly intimidated by me.

For a moment the two of us stood still without a movement. The next, before either of us could say anything, I cupped her face and crushed my lips against hers.

Roughly. Possessively.

She pulled me inside her room, her fingers pressing on my arms then sliding up my neck, I kicked the door shut behind me, fisting her hair and not breaking the kiss as we fell onto her bed.

My tongue stroked the seam of her lips, I grunted, tilting her neck, demanding entrance, this time not letting any damn thing interrupt what I was going to do.

No contract. No deadline. Just her. Just us.

Her hands sank into my hair as my palm swept beneath her little silk top. We kissed like we needed eachother before the world ended.

Frantic. Hungry. Desperate. But I couldn't get enough. I needed more of this. More of her.

I broke the kiss as I trailed my path down her neck, sucking on her sweet skin, leaving my marks and making her mine. Only mine. I didn't give a fuck about anything else at this moment other than her.

"Chris..." The sound of my name as she whimpered when I cupped her breast beneath the top sent another jolt of electricity straight down to my cock, it throbbed behind the barriers of my shorts.

"That's it sweetheart. After today my name shall be the only thing you remember" I said as I slid her top off and shorts down with little effort, leaving her completely naked and bare beneath me, it was the sight of a lifetime.

Flawless skin, breasts the right size to knead and suck on, perfect little waist, I eyed her body capturing every single detail like a wanderer discovering a hidden paradise.

I leaned low and kept my mouth around her nipple, sucking the sensitive tip and rolled the other with my index and thumb, earning another whimper of my name.

"You're such a good girl"

Neck. Arms. Breasts. Every part of her had a pleasing marks of hickeys, I was eager to map every inch of her heavenly body with my hands and my mouth as I made my way down kissing the valley of her stomach to her pubic bone.

Her soft skin was hot as she trembled when I got closer to her pussy, the scent of her arousal and the glazed sight in front of me felt like snorting a line of pure cocaine. I softly placed a kitten kiss on the awaiting clit, goosebumps pebbling her skin as I stroked her thighs.

"Chris, God Chris, please"

"Please what sweetheart?" I taunted.

"Are you that excited to have my mouth on your sweet cunt and eat you out?" I cooed. She looked up at me and her head fell back on the pillow when I licked her slit.

"Tell me babydoll"

Aria's breathing increased as her hand fisted my hair so hard, the tiny ache just turned me on more.

"Yes," The word left her mouth in a plea mixed with a demand. "Please Chris"

The next second my face was buried in the wet heat between her legs.

Her back arched instantly as her juices coated my tongue, I delved on her clit like a man starving to death. Sucking and devouring her cries of pleasure as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

Where I thought her presence drove me insane along with whiskey that had me tipsy, Aria's moans and her taste down here were fucking intoxicating. My cock twitched, matching the rhythm of my pulse, begging for me to dive into her.

Aria bucked her hips, pleading to stop, but her body begged to keep going, moan after moan escaping from her throat. Slow licks and flicks, I focused on her dripping cunt, a twelve course meal I'd enjoy for the rest of my life.

"No...please...I...more..." Aria pleaded and begged, coating my face by every passing second. I wanted all of this inked on my brain.

Her back arched as I continued to feast on her sweet little pussy. I sucked on her clit and pushed a finger stretching her lips, then another, pumping in and out, her knuckles turned white as she grabbed on to the sheets for dear life.

Forget coffee, water or a great buffet for breakfast, she tasted so much fucking better.

I groaned, sweat beading my forehead as I pulled my fingers out and I rested her legs on my shoulders, fiercly holding on her thighs, letting my tongue thrust inside of her. The taste of her made me want to do nothing but stay here and let this morning last forever.

My nose kept nudging on her clit as I ruthlessly tongue fucked her, eating her out, that tore sharp cry after cry. After feasting on her cunt, Aria came down shuddering, her orgasm flooding my senses and my face as I was sent to the ends of insanity.

"Want me to stop sweetheart?" I towered her, wiping my chin with back of hand, her taste still lingering on my tongue. I placed my hand next to her on the pillow holding me up, the other hand pinched her nipple and then went down circling that swollen nub.

I knew she wanted more. But I loved hearing it. Making her beg.

Aria shook her head whimpering, her face was tinted pink as her cheeks were flushed with arousal, my mind clouded with lust. My cock was so hard it threatened to pierce through my shorts.

"You have to tell me babydoll."

"Don't stop Chris, please"

Nothing turns me on more than the sound her sweet voice pleading me. I freed myself from the fabrics of my shorts and boxers, they joined her clothes on the floor. Her chest was still heaving from the aftermath of her first orgasm. Oh baby she's going to come more than once.

"You will come for me again okay?" My voice remained rough even though I tried to soften, I traced her pussy with the pad of my thumb and sank two fingers again to find her still soaking.

So wet. So fucking gorgeous.

Her eyes fell on my coated fingers as I pulled them out and licked the glistening pleasure, then at my cock jutting out, long and painfully hard, when she slowly got from up her high.

I leaned down to her ear, "I'm going to make you feel really good baby"

I spread her legs further apart and positioned myself in between, grazing the tip in the inner thigh and the folds of her opening, teasing her a bit more.

"Christopher,"

Never has my name sounded this good when someone said it. I felt a different sense of pride and possessiveness when it came out of her mouth. In that voice.

The tip was still slowly grazing her opening, she was so wet, it kept slipping. I was testing my own patience along with hers, without another thought I gripped her waist, Aria's head fell back on the pillows the second I thrusted through her wet entrance smoothly.

Her legs instantly wrapped around my hips locking me into place, it was now I knew I have found my heaven on earth.

"Too— big...ah" I couldn't help but chuckle at the way she moaned and commented about my size.

"But you take it so well baby" I teased.

A muffled moan.

I stayed in place for a few seconds, letting her adjust to my length and slowly pulled out and then slammed back in.

Starting slowly and easy first, then I picked up a hard and fast pace, pounding into her, each thrust making her breasts bounce. Sweat slicked her body, her eyes and mouth were half shut as she kept moaning, it was the sweetest sound to my ears.

Christ. I've never had a kink for breasts but her tits alone were enough to drive me mad. And this sweet tight little pussy that took in my cock like she was fucking made for it.

Nails grooved scars on my back and my arms, the piercing sting felt good more than pain. She was so tight, her walls clenched nicely around my cock, it drove me out of my mind.

I slowly leaned to her face and kissed away the tears that had run down her cheeks, Aria slowly peeled her eyes open as she looked at me, they were fogged with intense pleasure and unshed tears glittering like a sparkling galaxy.

She looked at me in a way no one ever has, it fucking hurt like a punch to the soul, leaving me breathless and reeling. My mouth crashed onto hers desperately, a tidal wave possessiveness washing over me frantically.

"Mmm" She hummed into my mouth, I chuckled swiping a strand of hair from her face.

"What do you want sweetheart?"

"More— more" And that undid me.

Her pussy squeezed my cock as I fucked her harder and faster, watching her back arch and bouncing breasts, the dirtiest symphonies of moans filling the room. Seeing her take in my cock this gorgeously was a sight I want to keep seeing for the rest of my life.

"Fuck...Aria..." I hissed, her walls pulsated, I was at the edge and if I didn't release I would literally explode right here.

She looked so fucking gorgeous beneath me, I could have believed she was unreal.

No part of my skin goes untouched and no part of hers goes unfucked. I held her pretty waist beneath my palms, picking my pace, sucking on her sweet nipples, her moans and whimpers and cries sounded MUCH better than the melodic sounds from the strings of my guitar.

"Chris, I— I..." Aria moaned.

"You will sweetheart"

Molten lava dripped down my spine as I hit her G spot, her back arched, giving me the once again perfect view of her beautiful chest.

"Come," Before the word fully left my mouth she came all over my cock in a harmonious cry, flooding my cock with her juices.

I let her settle for a few seconds but then kept fucking her until another orgasm chased the first, and another, she shattered apart falling into a glorious limp of a mess and in that moment I was grateful to be alive.

After what was her fourth time coming, a few seconds later I came inside of her in a powerful orgasm that felt like a volcanic eruption, thunder roaring in my chest.

Never had sex felt so good like this.

There was sweet love making and rough hard fucking and definitely many more. But this? This felt like it was a route to find peace and but at the same time, a route to insanity.

I slowly pulled myself out, in taking the sight of her wrecked wet pussy and kissed her inner thigh making my way upto her face and fell next to her. The both of us starting the day in a very Good Morning.

"Goodness Chris I...," I chuckled at her breathless response and turned to her, placing a kiss on her forehead and pulled her into my chest in a tight embrace.

I had surely pushed her beyond her limits after making her come so much, I held her tight, wrapping her with my warmth.

I've had my time back in Europe with other women, but I cuddles after sex wasn't my thing. It was way too intimate and I couldn't get myself lost in that. And I had my rules when fucking.

Don't look at me in the eyes. Don't expect aftercare or whatever. Simple.

But Aria. Damn it. She is the reason why the icy barriers I built around my heart is threatening to crack.

"How do you feel sweetheart?" I asked, her lips met the soft skin on my neck causing me to inhale a deep breath.

"Amazing" Her eyes closed, my hand glided up from her ass to her waist, my grip tightening.

"Is this why you took your day off?" She asked mischievously, I let out a deep chuckle, my grin widening.

"Maybe. Since I'm always having trouble getting you," I pulled her, her chest pressed against my chest, "I had enough of it"

"I see. Well, I didn't know Bang Christopher Chan desired so much"

"You don't know how crazy you drive me" I said pressing my mouth on hers hard and demanding. She melted against me as I kissed her, never getting tired of her taste.

We remained in each other's embrace for a while before I glanced at the clock on the wall, it was almost 9am, I slowly removed my arm from under her neck and sat up on the bed, the sheets rumpled around my waist.

She got up as well, an expression painting across her face, worrying if I might leave after having my time. Honestly I did want to leave now that I fucked her but somehow something made me stay with her.

I leaned in and smiled at her, kissing the corner of her lips.

"You've plans for today?" I don't know why, but I wanted to spend some time with her, my friends' advices still replayed in my head every now and then. She shook her head, looking at me, curiosity filled in her eyes.

"Good. I have a nice spot we can go to"

I'm definitely getting myself locked in a complicated cage, mixing sex when we have an expiration date.

But when time comes, I'll deal with it then.

------------------------

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[contentloadingandstuff]

Late Returns | Dom!Lisa x Sub!Male!Reader

A/N: I sat down today, set a 45 minute timer and told myself: Alright, content, a smutty short. Don't think, write. Well, 45 minutes turned into an entire day and roughly 6 pages of text. Is this graphomania? T/C: Femdom, clothed female nude male/CFNM, facesitting, cunnilingus, electrostimulation, amazon position, use of a condom.

While the Academy of Mondstadt was far from the level of strictness expected in Sumeru, it certainly wasn't easy. Notes, deadlines, classes, practice, essays and books. Books upon books upon books, stacked in every corner of your house. The knowledge they contained was crucial for passing the many exams you had yet to face, making each book priceless - literally, as copies sold to students have price tags that still haunt your sleep. 

The only option was the Favonious Library. 

You couldn't say you were the most diligent of people. That in of itself was bad, but combined with the diligence of the head Librarian, Miss Lisa, it was a nightmare. You did your best to keep track of the due dates - among the mess your studies constantly created - and you succeeded… at first. Later, as the year got more and more hectic, you would forget about tomes and turn them in after the appointed date. It was only due to Lisa's kindness that you were spared from the occasional thousand or two Mora fine. 

Still, you couldn't help but feel she was losing her patience with you. She grew more and more smug, probably knowing that your entire livelihood relied on her not asking for her due payments. She even started calling you a cutie, something you found fairly flustering. You could only hope to stay on the good side…

… but obviously it had to go down sometime. 

This month has been so busy you were forgetting your very own name. By the time you got a grip and took all of the late returns to the library, you knew you had a bomb on your hands. No amount of smiles or tea parties could get you out of this kind of debt. 

“Ah… Sorry, cutie.” Lisa said, browsing through her record book. “These are very overdue I'm afraid. If anybody would see me going easy on you, they would certainly feel unjustly treated…”

You rubbed the back of your head, looking hopefully at her. “Miss Lisa… I don't have much money at the moment… Could I maybe pay in installments?”

She smacked her lips, slowly raising out of her chair. “I'm afraid that won't do. But, if Mora isn't the way, I'll think of other disciplinary means.” You could tell you saw a small flicker in her emerald eyes as she took your hand. “Follow me.”

There was no time to refuse. You sighed in defeat, going along with her as she led you to the back room. Taking your seat at the small table, you watched as she drew a key and locked the door behind you. You swallowed, nervous at what the sorceress had in store for you. 

Lisa drew a piece of paper and tallied up your due, revealing a shocking, six digit sum. How in the world were you to pay that up…

“As I said, we can change it into something less monetary.” Lisa joined her hands on her chest, looking at you from under her wide, purple hat. “You could do library duty, public works, cleaning or, say, help me specifically.” 

You nodded at the last one - it seemed the least strenuous and, if truth were to be told, you loved spending time with her. Even if it wasn't to earn favors. 

“Excellent choice, cutie. Let's start now.”

Lisa approached you, an eager smirk on her lips. With a gentle tug she stood you up from the chair. You could feel her warm breath on your skin, causing it to heat up with a blush, eliciting a chuckle from her. So responsive, she said, as her hands traveled over your arms and down your back, coming to rest on your hips. 

You felt her fingers creep behind the waistband of your pants but lost focus as soon as her lips touched your cheek. Hidden under the wide rim of her hat, Lisa kissed each inch of your cheek, slowly going up to your ear. The tip of her tongue tickled your earlobe, riddling your skin with goosebumps as her other hand continued its quest. Her fingertips rubbed your thighs through the fabric of your boxers, following a trail from the outer to the inner part of your leg. 

While her tongue continued its work, Lisa's other hand found its place behind your pants and with a slight tug, she pulled them down. You meekly took off the article of clothing, letting her hands grope whatever part of you that struck her fancy. She gently raked her nails across the soft fabric covering your buldge, a nervous hum slipping out of your lips. You allow your hands to wrap around her waist, granting her permission to go further. Her index finger starts trailing up and down your clothes cock, swelling up under her gentle tease. Lisa's lips withdraw from your ear and move closer to yours. Your eyelids lower; your head tilts in expectation. You draw closer, so close, you can barely taste her lipstick, almost…

“Ah!”

Your body jumps back on reflex as a spark of electricity goes through your sack. Lisa smirks, seeing you close your legs and grip your package protectively, all with that adorable look of - fittingly - shock on your face. She turns around, humming. 

“Don't forget this is a punishment, cutie~” She flashes you a smug look and turns towards the couch. “Over there, Y/N. Lay back, will you?”

You obey her command, feeling excitement bubble in your veins. Lisa nods in approval. Her hat is removed with gentle touch and placed securely on the large table, the centerpiece of the room. While unbuckles the chain connecting her top, she lets her Vision drop and fall between her bountiful mounds. With a quiet moan, she slowly drags it out by the small chain still attached to it, letting the cold metal drag across her burning hot skin. The clothes are discarded on the table; Lisa steps out of her heels and waltzes up to you. 

“Mm~” She touches the tip of your cock, struggling to break free of its confines. “I have a feeling you're aching to get out of these, aren't you?”

The purple glow in her eyes causes your pulse to jump. Fearing another shock, you clumsily pull down your boxers, getting rid of the shirt for good measure. The witch's gloved hand grips the tip of your shaft, pushing her thumb into the flat of it. You feel your veins bulging under the pressure, causing your dick to throb in her hand. She laughs. 

“Look at this little cutie, so eager for my touch…” She drags her palm across your erection, moving it to rest on your stomach. “But I'm afraid he'll have to wait. Your punishment begins now. Are you ready?”

You nod. 

“Good boy.”

Lisa steps up onto the couch. She stands still for a moment, letting you gawk up at her like a helpless puppy. She turns around, the cloth flaps of her corset doing a painfully good job of hiding her assets. She holds the back one in her hand, revealing a set of black, laced lingerie under. It hugs her fatty thighs tightly, almost threatening to come apart with a crouch. The silk holds firm, though, as her ass lowers and settles right on your face. 

Your nose is pushed into the crevice of her ass, your mouth feeling the pressure of her fatty lips, separate from you only by a thin layer of fabric. You take a breath, and your nose fills with a strong, tangy scent of her arousal, soaking the silk of her panties. 

She shifts her hips, smothering you as she looks for a comfy position. Her attention turns back towards your manhood. Lisa takes pity on your cock and wraps her hand around it, using your chest as a support as she gives it a few test strokes. 

“Who would have thought that a cutie such as yourself carries something so…” She leans down and takes a whiff of your cock, taking in the musky mix of precum and pure lust. “Mm~... Intoxicating in your pants. The thick shaft, the bulging veins, and the delicious, thick head… Ah, I would love to feel it pushing my lips apart as it forces its way into my pussy~ Wouldn't you, too darling?”

You make a noise in response, the words drowning in the fat of her hips. 

“I'm sure you'd love to empty your naughty balls inside me… I've noticed the way you've been looking at me ever since we met, Y/N. Know that I would love to take advantage of that too~”

Lisa brings your cock closer and presses her painted lips tightly to your head. When she pulls back, the lipstick leaves a nice mark of her kiss. 

“But first thing first… Your punishment. For being such a handsome, shy and absolutely tasty little cutie - and for the books of course - you'll eat me out. If you'll be a good, diligent boy, I'm sure I'll have an appetite for a second helping. I'm sure you'll handle it.”

You mumble yes, miss into her ass, your mouth salivating at the prospect. She giggles, wiggling her hips to bury you deeper in. You move your hands to her waist and, as soon as you touch her, you yelp in pain at the zap delivered to your cock. You whine, and immediately off-hand her. 

“Bad boy. Use your teeth.”

Lisa rubs the skin right above your cock, grazing the base with her immaculate nails, promising more if you behave. You open your mouth, bite down on the fabric and, with utmost care, pull it away. The fabric digs into Lisa's skin, exposing her just enough for you to get in. Feeling your way around her slit, it isn't long before you find the wet, expecting lips. With the tip of your tongue as your guide, you slide between her inner lips, feeling the salty taste of her excitement. A few humms of approval escape her lips. You use all of your mouth to fully expose her pussy. 

She doesn't guide you this time, and instead wraps her hand around your cock to signal her satisfaction. You feel her hand squeezing your dick as Lisa pumps it up and down with frustrating deliberation. Knowing that the pleasure or torture of your cock is at stake, you dig in. 

“Ah~!” She moans as your tongue dives between her eager folds. 

You dine, switching between gentle flicks and strong, full licks. As you tunnel between her lips, Lisa cranes her neck back, her blonde hair cascading back as pleasure builds within her. It's not long before her needy cunt demands more and Lisa begins rocking her hips, matching the length and direction of your tongue. Her body heats up, her beautiful, deep moans filling the room. More, she says, now resting on your entire body as your fingers dig into the fat of her ass, stabilizing her hips for better access. Your tongue dances around her bud, sliding between her folds before locking onto the clit, lips wrapping around it and sucking. Lisa whimpers and her grip on your dick becomes tighter. You squirm, pain pulsing through you yet never slowing down your service. Her heart rages in her chest and her breath quickens as she grabs your balls with the other hand. 

“Keep… Mhn~ Keep going now… Don't get… distracted~” Your skin crawls as you sense Electro buzzing between your legs. Your grip becomes tighter, legs trembling as you feel the energy pulse down your cock and spread to each of your nuts. You shift your hips helplessly, desperate to keep your mouth working as your shaft hardens even further, balls churning even more cum at the painful stimulation. 

You feel her thighs growing tighter around your head so, with the last gasps of air you push your tongue into her core. Lisa lets out a gasp as her pussy tightens, her legs trembling around you as you eat her to completion. 

Lisa releases her hands, cutting off the electricity. Your cock throbs and bounces, both relieved and missing the stimulation. Lisa groans as she lifts her ass up, freeing you; you gasp for fresh air, coughing. With half lidded eyes and a dazed smile, Lisa looks back at you. 

“Good job, cutie.” She turns around, taking a seat on your thighs. “You know how to please a lady, don't you?”

You nod weakly, letting your hands drop to your sides. You feel Lisa prop up your aching dick with her slender hand. 

“All that licking, sucking and eating was delightful… yet my body wants more. It looks like I went a little hard on your cock, didn't I, darling?”

She strokes the head of your cock comfortingly. You wince at the sensation, instinctively tightening your thigh muscles as you watch her. 

“Aw, don't be scared. I won't punish you anymore. You did what I asked, didn't you?” She leans down, placing a light kiss on your frenulum. “You're a good boy.”

Relaxing, you lay back and focus on the feeling of her hands going up and down your legs. The calm doesn't last long, however. 

“Legs up, big boy~” 

You raise your head, shooting her a look of confusion. She smiles in response, sliding her hands under your ass and gently pushing up. You go along with her signal and raise your legs. Lisa shifts closer, gently caressing your inner thighs as she fumbles with her corset. Before she drops it, she reaches between her breasts and pulls out a small, brightly colored pack. 

“Miss Lisa…” You say, eyes never leaving her hand as she tears the foil open and pulls out a condom. “Why did you keep it there?”

“For special opportunities like this, of course. A woman has to be prepared for a sweet catch like yourself, doesn't she? It doesn't happen often, but when it does, well… Better be prepared, hm?” she coos as she slides the rubber over your raging hard-on. 

Lisa rises up, pushing her hips against yours. She steps over your legs and squats down, pushing them to hang in the air. Lisa sends you a teasing wink as she reaches under the flaps of fabric hiding her sex and grabs your dick. Your imagination runs wild before it stops completely, mind blanking out as you feel your dick finally sinking into her sloppy cunt. Your vision goes blurry for a brief moment before it's brought back down as Lisa raises up and falls back down. You see stars as your cock slams against her cervix, making you moan in unison. 

Without delay Lisa begins moving her hips up and down, her walls eagerly sucking you in as she fucks you. Her hands hold onto your ankles as her ass plops down on you again and again, the clapping growing sloppiers as each thrust coaxes her insides to drool all over your cock. Holding onto the couch for dear life you moan as she rides you, bent over and completely helpless. You could only moan and whimper in response. Lisa keeps her pace steady, looking down at your flushed face with satisfaction. 

“Such a good boy, letting me fuck you like this~” She says, reaching out to tilt your head up. Your eyes meet. “Now cum, cutie~ Empty your balls inside me~”

Tenderized by her earlier torment, your balls fail to endure her pace and tighten in preparation to bust. Your mouth cannot form a coherent word other than cum. Lisa presses her body flat against yours, holding your cheeks as she pounds you into the couch. 

“Good boy… That's it… Cum for mommy~” she whines out as you safely unload inside her, her slick walls pulsing in rhythm to coax every drop of cum from your body. When you can shoot no more, your tired form goes limp against her. 

She chuckles, placing a kiss on your forehead. She slowly stands up with a satisfied, drawn out whine. You look up only to see the condom gone from your softening cock. Lisa smirks as you look at her for an answer. She lifts her front flap to reveal the end of the condom stuck inside her pussy. 

You follow her as she graciously steps down from the couch and heads towards the table. Lisa picks up her hat, making her way over to the armchair put up against the opposite side of the room. She sits down, resting her legs on the footrest. Her hat is lowered back on its rightful place.

“Consider the fees settled, cutie. But if you’d like to discuss… extended terms, feel free to come in for a cup of hot tea~”

Thanks for reading!

[atinystraynstay]

Homecoming - Kim Mingyu

Synopsis: The expectations vs. reality of bringing your significant other to your hometown

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem. reader

Warnings: mentions of death (of family member), comforting fluff because Mingyu is THE golden retriever boyfriend.

Word Count: 1.2k

Your eyes looked out of the plane window, your smile growing as you recognized some of the landmarks of your hometown as you flew overhead. It is rare nowadays that you get a chance to come home. Most of the time, it is your parents coming to visit you.

Mingyu liked seeing this side of you. He liked seeing you relaxed rather than stressing over deadlines or trying to meet social obligations. While Mingyu loved seeing you get dressed up for date nights, he loved seeing you dressed in sweats with your hair pulled back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent. Please make sure tray tables and your seats are upright, and that your seatbelts are fastened. We will be arriving in about 20 minutes."

Gently, Mingyu leaned over to kiss your cheek. You jumped slightly, getting lost in your own thoughts.

You turned your head from the window to look at your boyfriend. Your cheeks were a light red color, a bit embarrassed for jumping. All Mingyu did was offer a light smile that made your stomach erupt into butterflies, forgetting all about your slight embarrassment.

What you adored about Mingyu was that he was never the type to make you embarrassed. He was kind and considerate, easily qualifying as the world's best boyfriend.

"Are you okay, angel?" He whispered.

You squeezed his hand gently, smiling lightly back. You were okay with Mingyu by your side.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air around you felt still. There was light movement around the house, but you felt like you were in your own universe. Your parents graciously offered to let you and Mingyu stay in their home for your short visit.

While Mingyu was getting ready in your childhood bedroom, you were in your bathroom. Your makeup bag had spilled its containments on the yellow tile counter. Your curling iron was cooling down on the other side, unplugged before you would tuck it away back in the cabinet underneath the sink. Part of you knew you had to get ready, but the other part of you couldn't bring yourself to finish.

Not when you knew what was waiting for you.

Sensing movement behind you, you looked up. Mingyu was slowly approaching you, that loving smile of his that made you weak in the knees flashed in your direction. it didn't have the same effect today. No, after seeing that smile, you just wanted to curl back into bed. He knew this was going to be a tough few days for you, and he was more than ready to be there for whatever you needed.

"You look gorgeous, doll," he whispered. The room was so silent that it felt like he was up close to you even though he just stepped into the bathroom. "Do you need help?"

You hadn't even realized your dress was half-zipped. You were just going through the motions at this point. Once he was close enough to you, he rested one hand on your hip. His thumb caressed against your clothed side, pulling a gentle smile on your lips. He always knew the little ways to make you feel better. Even if it was just for a second.

"Please?"

Mingyu didn't need to be asked twice. Keeping his hand on your hip, his free hand gently grasped onto the black zipper. His thumb and index finger moved the zipper along the back of the dress until it reached the top. He went slowly, not wanting you to feel rushed but also making sure no hair of yours was at risk of getting caught.

Once you were completely zipped up, he kissed your cheek lingeringly. "Absolutely gorgeous today, darlin'," he whispered into your skin. His arms wrapped around you fully, allowing you to lean back into him. Slowly, you released a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding.

"You know, you don't have to put on a brave face today, angel. It's okay to be sad. That's why I'm here. I'm your shoulder to lean on, a safe space for you to cry. I've even got two mini packet of tissues ready to go for you."

Your hands ran up and down his arms slowly, not wanting to leave the room to encounter what was waiting for you on the other side. You weren't sure how you got blessed to have Mingyu you, but you weren't taking any second spent with him for granted.

This was not how you envisioned bringing your long-term boyfriend home for the first time would go. You weren't expecting to introduce him to everyone at your paternal grandmother's funeral. You wanted him to come with you this summer when you were going to be at your happiest with the warm air and summer festivities. Not in the bitterness of winter at a funeral.

Yet, you were glad he was here. He kept you together when you felt like falling apart, even when you weren't aware of how you were about to fall over the edge. He was always there to catch you.

"I know," you responded, a voice at a soft whisper. "I just don't know how to feel. I mean, none of this feels real. It wasn't supposed to go this way."

Mingyu slowly nodded. His head gently rested against yours after pressing a soft kiss into the crown of your head. "It's okay to feel however you feel. Grief is a tricky thing, but you're not alone. If you need a laugh, I can do that. I can also be there to wipe away your tears. If you want to go scream, we can drive around and blast music. But you are not alone."

You were truly the luckiest person alive. Looking at your reflection, you just took a moment to admire the man in front of you. At a moment's notice, he cleared his entire schedule so he could accompany him to the other side of the world. You tried insisting he stayed in Seoul, but it was a topic not up for negotiation. He knew you needed him.

"Thank you."

Slowly, you turned your head so you could tilt it up to look at him. He opened his mouth to speak but you just shook your head. You leaned in to press your lips fully against his.

It was a brief kiss, but one you hoped conveyed everything you felt and believed in. Mingyu reminded you of your self-worth, but also how important you needed to take care of you. And he would happily take care of you if you let him. And it was vice versa. Whenever Mingyu was in trouble, you hoped he knew that he could always turn towards you.

He was the one to break the kiss before resting it against your forehead. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling as if you just enjoyed the feeling of his body heat against you, internalizing the love you unconditionally showed you.

"If you want to stay here all day, we can. Wherever you go, I follow, sweet girl," he promised.

You knew deep down the next few hours, days, and even weeks were going to be hard. Part of you was afraid to experience the rollercoaster that is grief. Yet, you were comforted in the fact that Mingyu would always offer his hand to hold so you were never truly alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hi hi just a quick lil blurb I've been working on. After losing my father's mother last week, I am still trying to navigate how to grieve and what that looks like. I'm taking it day by day, but always find comfort in Seventeen

Hope you are taking car of yourselves, especially if you are going through a tough time. 🩷

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

Hi there, this will be the 4th year I've done this challenge but this year a lot in my life is going wrong and I'm finding I don't have the motivation to write at all, I'm so behind on it and can't find the motivation to catch up and with the 24 hour deadline coming into effect it all feels like too much... Do you have any words of encouragement or advice? I'm really struggling

I'm so sorry to hear that life has been rough 🖤 I'm sure that a lot of people have been feeling that and can relate in a big way.

My biggest piece of advice is to go easy on yourself!

If the thought of catching up feels too big, then forget about catching up ❤️ On days where you have the energy and/or inspiration, focus on that prompt alone as if it's the only prompt that exists. And if writing just isn't going to happen today, take a deep breath and tell yourself that it's okay. That in not writing today, you're choosing to prioritize yourself and your mental energy/health above all else - which is the best thing that you can do for yourself when things are tough. If it feels like too much then it's probably too much 🫂

If a community of fellow FFxivWrite participants would help, there are a handful of excellent FFxiv fanfic discords who actively participate and encourage each other throughout the challenge.

In fact, if y'all know of some great FFxiv fanfic discords that have really helped you with motivation during FFxivWrite, reblog and tell us all more!

[storywriter007]

You Came Back - Jason Grace x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n tells jason grace something she thought she'd never ever say

warnings: cursing, emotional turmoil, heartbreak, mention of sex

genre: heartbreak/angst

word count: 826

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

y/n heard someone shuffle through the door of the principia. they tried sneaking in, quietly, but it was a failed attempt.

"you missed it." she said, not even turning around, and continuing to organize papers. "it's over."

"y/n," he sighed. "i'm sorry, i'm so, so, sorry. i was at camp half-blood, and i lost track of time-"

"don't apologize to me." she said calmly. "apologize to the kids. they were upset when you didn't show up."

fifteen little kids, all between the ages of six and ten, wondering why their hero hadn't shown up to spend the day with them. fifteen little kids asking y/n, "where's jason?" with disappointment in their eyes.

"maybe, i can talk to them tomorrow? or maybe, thursday?" he suggested.

"tomorrow, we have a senate meeting. thursday, we've got paperwork due. the next date you can take the kids around new rome is in around two months." she said. "when did i become the organized one, grace?"

"i know, i know. i fucked up. i was with piper, and i completely forgot i had to be here. i came here as fast as i could."

of course he'd been at the other camp, with his other friends, with his other girl.

"they were so hurt, jason." she said, feeling upset on behalf of all the younger children. "they were so excited to finally have a one-on-one with their hero. just for me to tell them that you got caught up in some last-minute, saving-the-world shit. and still, they left with their feet dragging and their heads down." she said, finally turning to meet his blue eyes.

he looked ashamed. he should be.

"thank you, for protecting my reputation." he said. "but you didn't have to lie for me."

"what was i going to say? i knew where you were, you're always there. 'sorry kids, jason's at his other camp right now, he probably forgot.' or should i have gone with 'don't worry kids, he probably lost track of time because he's with another girl right now. he'll be back when he's done.'" she said, sarcastically. "c'mon."

she was extra pissy with him today. usually, it would just be, "it's alright, don't do it again" even though it always happened again. but today was different.

the principia door opened, and a group of young children stood at the door frame. there were four of them, two boys and two girls. y/n knew them, since she'd taught all of them.

"what're you kids doing out of bed?" y/n smiled, her voice softening.

"hey, jason's back!" one of the kids pointed out.

"yes, yes he is. but why are you bunch out of bed?" she laughed.

they shuffled forward, and gave her a cupcake.

"happy birthday y/n!" they said in unison.

jason's face fell to the floor.

"aw, thank you guys." she smiled, giving the kids a big hug. "real sweethearts, aren't you guys?"

after a few minutes of further talking, y/n walked the kids back to their cabins, and returned to the principia.

"oh my god. y/n, i'm so sorry-" jason started once again.

she chuckled. "y'know, in the ten years i've know you, and in eight and a half you were my best friend, i never thought you'd be one to forget."

"i'm so sorry. i can't believe i forgot-"

"i can." she said. "you seem to forget just about everything relating to this camp."

"that's not fair. that's not fair, i didn't want to forget." he said.

"i'm not talking about your amnesia. i'm talking about now. i'm talking about the missed senate meetings, and missed deadlines, and missed expectations." she said. "you've forgotten everything about this place and everyone in it. it's been this way since you came back. and you say sorry, but you don't change."

"camp half-blood is my home just as much as camp jupiter is." he defended.

"i waited a long time for you, grace." she started. "i waited for eight months. i waited for you while everyone else thought you were gone. i thought you were dead, but i still waited."

"i came back."

"you did." she agreed, feeling her voice break. "but, sometimes, i really wish you didn't."

they were standing face to face, but her gaze was to the side, while he looked at her.

"because i would rather spend the rest of my life wondering what happened to you than you coming back and not recognizing my face." a tear fell from her cheek.

"i would rather have lost you forever than knowing a ghost of you." she paused. "i would have rather lived in misery than grief ."

"you came back. you sure as hell did." she smiled. "but your body came back, not your character." her voice broke.

she could see the hurt in his eyes. they were both grieving.

jason grieved over what he had done.

y/n grieved over who she had known.

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

there is not enough jason grace content on tumblr

[yelenasdiary]

Here's a little Yelena Drabble idea for you if you're interested. 😊 The reader is having a remote interview on their laptop, and they're nervous. Yelena is standing in front of them out of view of the interviewer, encouraging them and trying to make them smile.

Drabble || You Worry Too Much!

Pariring: Yelena Belova x Fem! Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Yelena tries her best to make you less nervous and stressed during an important interview.

Fluff

Warnings: None, this is not corrected or proof-read | 0.6K

AC: I hope it's okay I write this as a platonic fic, I haven't written one in a while and I thought this would be a great idea to do so! I hope you enjoy! x

10:15am the time read on your laptop as you sat patiently in the zoom call waiting room, all your notes and possible question answers sat on one side of you while a glass of cold water sat on the other side. In 15 minutes you were able to have an interview for a new job. It was time for a change, time to leave the cafe that you worked tirelessly at just a few blocks away from your apartment.

You were having a quick read over the notes in your notepad when Yelena let herself in with a smile on her lips and a coffee in one hand. "Good morning" she greeted, placing the coffee next to the glass of water beside you.

"Yelena? W-what are you doing here? Did you forget that I have a really important interview today?" you asked with a worried tone.

"Nope, I didn't forget" she replied, making her way to the sofa, "You've been stressed about this interview all week, I'm just here to keep you company" she added as she sat down and grabbed one of last week's trash magazines that sat on your coffee table.

"Could you please just go wait in my bedroom?" you suggest, not wanting her to distract you.

"Don't worry, you stress too much!" she chuckled, "I won't distract you....much" she added with a playful smirk.

You didn't have time to respond to your best friend as the screen on your laptop changed and you were greeted with a middle-aged man in a business suit.

"Good morning Miss Y/L/N, thank you for join me today. I know we spoke over the phone last week but it's nice to put a face to voices" the man smiled, "I'll try not to keep you long" he added. He seemed a little more laid back than all your past interviewers, it helped a little take some of the nerves you were feeling away but not enough to feel completely comfortable and confident.

"Smile" Yelena mouthed, using a small wave to get your attention.

You gave the man the generic fake smile and thanked him for taking the time to interview you for the position. "I like to get the harder questions out of the way, so, why don't you tell me why you think you would be great for this position" he said.

Your eyes glanced over to your notes, "I believe that I am a hard worker, I love working with others and meeting deadlines. I have a high attention to detail and..." you started, pausing for a moment to look back at your notes. Yelena shook her head, "very reliable" she mouthed slowly so you could understand her.

"I'm very reliable and I find great satisfaction in organising and filing. You'll find that not only am I fun to be around, I will get the job done. I am always willing to put myself out there and help others, I love sharing ideas and I am always trying ways to gain more skills in many different areas" you added.

You felt confident in your answer and saw that Yelena was giving you a thumbs up which also reminded you to smile.

As the interview we on, Yelena helped here she could, mouthing words for you to use and always reminding you to keep giving a smile here and there. With every moment that passes you slowly but surely became more confident within yourself, your eyes caught the message that was writing on your coffee cup, "you've got this" with a little smiley face quickly made you thankful for Yelena letting herself in.

"Well, I think that's all on my end. You should hear back from me by the end of the coming week, thank you again for time" the man smiled.

"Thank you, I appreciate this opportunity" you replied, giving the man one last smile before he said goodbye. You closed your laptop and looked up at Yelena, "Thank you, I can't believe you really helped me feel more confident" you spoke.

"Like I said, you worry too much! Now grab your coffee, I'm starving" Yelena replied.

Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @caporal-nino | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @itsmelulu | @axolotllover225 | @koinsss | 

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (2)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment, violence, swearing, self-destructive behavior ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He woke up suddenly pulling himself up to sit down, breathing loudly, his heart pounding so hard he thought he was dying. He looked around − he was alone in his bedroom, his room in semi-darkness, it was barely dawn. He swallowed loudly feeling his sweaty t-shirt stick to his back and ran his hand over his face, trying to calm himself down.

Every time he thought he had got over it, it all came back to him in nightmares.

Embarrassed, he found that his legs were shaking as he rose from the bed, heading towards his bathroom to take a shower. He stood under the rain of warm water and leaned his forehead against the wet, tiled wall, trying not to think about it, to push it out, to forget it.

He tried to focus on his classes, on the fact that he had to prepare, on the fact that his midterms were coming up soon as well as the deadline for his stained glass windows for his next church.

He needed to focus on his work.

He went to his workshop earlier than usual, taking only a cup of coffee with him, knowing that he wouldn't last alone at home anyway, with only one thing on his mind.

He felt like he was about to throw up and stopped for a moment, clenching his eyes shut. He swallowed loudly, acknowledging that the feeling had passed, and clicked the light switch on the side of the table, the pieces of glass he had cut earlier lit up in bright, intense colours.

He thought that although the glass had hurt him so many times, cutting his hands, in the end it rewarded his suffering with a beautiful final work that he hoped would last for centuries. In this case, he thought, his physical harm had a purpose, it was almost noble.

Unlike what had befallen him then.

He pressed his lips together at the thought, feeling sick again, and put down his brush of patina, putting his hands on the table and leaning back, tired.

He had no strength left.

He heard someone's footsteps − someone walked into his workshop, but did not greet him.

He shuddered when he smelled an intense female perfume beside him and stepped back like a man possessed, looking at Jason Lannister's student with wide eyes.

He felt like something had locked inside him, he couldn't move − the girl opened her mouth to say something, but he wouldn't let her.

"Get out. Immediately." He said coolly, feeling that his hands were trembling.

Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out.

The girl smiled at him in a way he hated, in a way that suggested she thought he was teasing her, that he was pretending.

"I only came to ask for advice on my work, Professor Lannister is absent today." She said surprised, fixing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Get out." He repeated, louder this time, his heart pounding like a mad.

Whore.

Slut.

Bitch.

Get out.

"Are you so unpleasant to all female students, or just to me, Professor? Oh, I forgot, you don't accept women into your workshop. Fucking chauvinist." She growled, furrowing her brow, recognising that she had a right to judge him, to speak to him like that in his own workshop, to a professor who had achieved more in a few years than she would achieve in a lifetime.

"Get the fuck out." He hissed, looking at her menacingly, all tense, unable to get the smell of her perfume out of his nose, too much like her smell, then − he felt like he was about to really throw up though, his stomach twisting in an intense spasm.

The girl bit her lip, putting her hands at her sides, looking at him with some kind of pride, as if she thought she had the right to do so, to tell him how it was going to be, to bring him down to earth with her feminist bullshit.

"You have no right to speak like that to any woman, Professor. Do you understand? I demand an immediate apology." She said with certainty, from which he laughed out loud, shaking his head in disbelief. His face turned from amused to pale with rage, he saw fear and discomfort in her gaze.

"When Jason pats your ass you squeal with joy. Did you come here because you were hoping for the same thing? Then you were wrong. Now, get the fuck out." He hissed, shaking with anger and horror at the same time, her cheeks flushed scarlet.

She really thought he hadn't seen it?

It was things like this that he paid the most attention to.

He had fought for years to get all those fucking perverts thrown out, and because of students like her, Lannister believed that what he was doing was normal, healthy.

He felt a gag reflex in his throat and stepped back, swallowing loudly, trying to catch his breath.

You are such a pretty boy, Aemond.

Your eye, your scars don't bother me at all.

Why are you so tense?

He stepped back, horrified, as she came close to him, too close, looking at him with her lips clenched, her breasts exposed in a substantial cleavage rising and falling in uneven breaths.

All he could think about was wanting to pull away from her, but he couldn't move.

"I know very well that you are a worse pervert than he is. Why do you not accept girls into your workshop? Maybe you're afraid you'd rape them because none of them would ever want you of their own free will?" She hissed, and he slapped her face so hard that she fell to the floor.

He stared at her with his mouth wide open, panting loudly − she looked at him with resentment and horror, catching herself with her hand on her red cheek, not believing he had done it.

"I won't leave it like that, Professor. Have a nice day." She mumbled terrified, on the verge of crying, and walked out, leaving him alone.

He barely had time to run to the sink where the students washed their hands after finishing their work before he threw up.

Why are you so tense?

Just stay still and let me take care of myself.

Look, see?

You wouldn't be so hard if you didn't want it.

He was panting loudly, coughing in convulsions, trembling all over, clasping his hands on the metal sink. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing it was a panic attack, that it would pass soon, it would pass, it would pass, as it always, always had, and it would now too.

It took several long minutes before his heart stopped beating like mad, before his mind sobered again, before he felt he knew what was happening to him again.

He rinsed his mouth out quickly with cold water, washed his face with his hands and groaned low, terrified, knowing what awaited him now.

What he had done.

He was not surprised when, later that same day, the rector himself called him in.

He hadn't reacted as strongly when he reported to him that Jason was too fond of his female students and not every one of them was happy about it.

He listened calmly to the allegations, but when the man asked him to explain, he said nothing but what he really thought.

This slut deserved it.

If he could, he would slap her again.

She was just proof to him that he was right.

He didn't want any woman in his workshop.

His therapist was not happy to hear that.

"Why did you do that?" He asked, fiddling with the pen in his hand, and he sighed heavily.

"She suggested I might be a rapist. She came and threatened me in my own workshop. She came too close, she…"

"…violated your space." He finished calmly, and he pressed his lips together, tracing his chin with his fingers.

"Yes."

"What consequences will you face now?" The man asked him, correcting with a slight movement the glasses slipping off his nose. He sighed heavily, massaging his temple, no longer having the strength to think about it.

"None. I bring the university too much money from the curia. The girl won't press charges against me because I know about her relationship with Jason, but she's slandering me on some inferior gossip site. She implies that I was interested in her. Fucking bullshit." He chuckled, burying his face in his hands, shaking his head.

"Is this ever going to stop? I don't want to hurt any women. I just wish they wouldn't come near me anymore."

The next two years he faced the wry stares of other students and lecturers. He knew what they thought of him − that he had hit innocent young girl, that he was an abusive man with mental problems who needed psychiatric treatment.

If it had been a female student who had slapped him, everyone would surely have thought that he had obviously done something to deserve it, that he had picked on her or made immoral proposals to her.

The fact that he did it must have been because he was habitually violent.

Even if he tried to explain it to them, they would still think he had gone too far.

He didn't give a shit.

They couldn't destroy him any more than he already was.

He just wanted to be able to work in peace.

When he saw before the new semester in the system a woman's name on his attendance list for the second year of his specialisation he decided immediately that it was a simple mistake and went to the dean's office with it, wanting it fixed. The woman grunted loudly, looking at him uncertainly.

"It's not a mistake, Professor. She signed you in as her supervisor." She said, standing up, pulling out for him the documents she had submitted to confirm her words.

He looked through them quickly and clenched his eyes, feeling like he was about to explode.

Why?

Why couldn't he have holy peace?

He figured that he would simply not read her out during class, that he would pretend she didn't exist until she was discouraged. He had no intention of wasting his strength or attention on her.

That's what he did.

"She's not like that, Aemond. Really. She focuses on her work, she's diligent. Three times I made her start the same face over and she did it without saying a word. She is humble and learns quickly. It's a shame to give her up to waste to Jason or Floris." Said Cregan, massaging his chin, sitting across from him in his office.

His words surprised him, as it was the first time since they had worked together that he had tried to smuggle a girl into their workshop despite knowing what his opinion was on the subject.

"No. There are always problems with them sooner or later. She was almost crying by now. I don't want any weepy scenes in my workshop. I −" He paused as he heard a loud knock on the door, Cregan immediately got up and opened it.

He glanced over his shoulder surprised that he hadn't said anything and saw her notebook and pen.

He squeezed his eyes shut, running his hand over his face.

Fuck.

No. No. No. No. No.

"Please, find five minutes for me, Professor." He heard her soft, pleading tone. Cregan stepped back and it was only then that he saw her.

Although dressed like a boy, she had something of a girlish lightness about her − her face was pleasant, her eyes large, full of terror, surrounded by dark long lashes, her lips pressed into a tight line.

He figured that if he didn't let her say what she wanted she'd probably pester him with messages, and he didn't want that, so he hummed under his breath, took out his phone and turned on the stopwatch.

"Five minutes." He said lowly and heard Cregan walk out quickly leaving them alone.

He felt his heart pounding hard, his whole body trembling as he saw her take a step towards him.

"Don't come up, just stand there and talk. You're running out of time." He burst out coolly, clenching his hand into a fist, feeling his whole body take on a defensive form, ready to react aggressively immediately if necessary.

She, however, stepped back and swallowed loudly, looking down at her fingers, fiddling with her notebook in a nervous gesture.

"I know what rules you have set in your workshop and I wish very much now that I had been born a man, but unfortunately I am not." She muttered with difficulty, her voice trembling with fear. He felt a squeeze in his heart at her words and thought that it was indeed not her fault, but he couldn't help the way he was either.

"I saw your artworks while I was still in high school at St. John's Cathedral, and having always dreamed of creating stained glass for churches, I wanted to be taught by someone who is such an accomplished specialist in the field as you are. I know how difficult the job is and I promise to do what you tell me to do without a shadow of dissatisfaction. I will not approach you except to revise my designs or projects. I will always work at the furthest table and sit in the last seat as far away from you as possible, dressing in such a way that you do not notice me and forget my existence on a daily basis. Please." She uttered the last word pathetically, pleadingly, on the verge of crying.

He knew she cared and some part of him sympathised with her, but the other distrusted her, trying to see through the manipulation in her behaviour so notable for women.

He thought she talked about his work to please him, that she was cowering in front of him and trying to pass herself off as humble, where surely if he had only agreed she would have shown him her true face straight away.

They were all the same.

They dressed their disgusting desires in the most beautiful words.

You are such a pretty boy, Aemond.

He swallowed with difficulty, drawing in air quietly.

"Just because you're a fan of my works doesn't make you a talented person. What good is it to me that you work in silence if none of your pieces will be at least satisfactory and your colleagues will have to correct your mistakes?" He asked indifferently, glancing at her again. He could see that she was growing pale and stifled, her big eyes looking at him as if she was about to fall to her knees before him and beg him.

However, she did not.

"Well. All I have with myself now are quick sketches in my notebook. They're portraits of people I see travelling on the bus to my classes." She mumbled, looking at her notebook. He sighed heavily, burying his face in his hand, disbelieving that, knowing his attitude, she hadn't brought anything with her on which he could judge her artistic ability.

What an idiot.

"So you are unprepared." He summarised and saw out of the corner of his eye that she had moved restlessly.

"None of my colleagues had to −" She started with a frown, but closed her mouth immediately when she saw his disgruntled, warning look.

"− I − yes, I'm unprepared. I'm very sorry." She whispered in shame, lowering her gaze, and he sighed again, looking ahead, raising his hand in the air.

He heard her walk up to him and slip the notepad into his palm − he didn't smell any perfume, just the scent of some pleasant coconut shampoo and lotion.

He began to look through her sketches page by page, finding that they were ordinary, simple, not bad, but not good either. He stopped, however, at a depiction of a mother holding a child on her lap, sketched quickly with a simple outline and linear shading.

The composition made him think of Renaissance paintings depicting the Madonna and Child − a young woman was leaning slightly towards the infant, helping it to hold something in his small, clenched hand.

His attention was also drawn to a drawing of a thoughtful old man with carefully depicted wrinkles and an endless, lifelong weariness, some age-old wisdom flowing from his aged eyes outlined with such quick and simple movements.

He paused, too, at the drawing of the young man, his face almost resembling that of an angel sunk in deep sleep, leaning with his temple against the glass, his lips slightly parted.

He sighed heavily and massaged his forehead, himself not knowing what he thought of it, tired and discouraged. He raised his hand with her sketchbook without looking at her.

"Three of your fifteen sketches I would consider good. Do you think that's enough?" He asked dispassionately, hearing her move restlessly.

He thought for sure she was about to start crying and begging, saying that she would improve, that she could do better.

Bullshit.

"No. It's not enough." He heard her heartbroken voice and hummed under his breath, satisfied with her answer and any self-criticism, tossing her notebook into the bin with a slight movement, where it belonged.

He lifted his gaze to her, having the feeling that the matter was now settled and that if she had any doubts about whether she wanted him to teach her, they had just been dispelled.

He saw that she was looking at the spot where he had dumped her notebook in disbelief, her lower lip quivering slightly.

"So I'll do 200 sketches, 40 of which will be good. Or 300 of which 60 will be good. I will do as many of them as you see fit, Professor." She exhaled with difficulty, but with a kind of certainty and ferocity that surprised him. He felt a strange tightening in his stomach − he didn't know what to make of her words, feeling that this was a challenge of sorts.

He shuddered as he heard the ringing of his timer and reached for his phone, muting it, staring blankly ahead.

I will do as many of them as you see fit, Professor.

"400 sketches. And they're all supposed to be good. Without them, don't even show yourself to me. Anything else?" He asked coolly, impatient and angry with himself for not being able to discourage her enough, for not being able to find an answer to her words.

"No. Thank you for the chance, Professor." She mumbled in surprise and simply walked out, closing the door behind her.

A moment later, Cregan walked in, excited, pretending not to ask her at all what he had decided.

"And how did it go?" He asked, and he threw him a furious, tired look and stood up, taking his leather jacket from the back of his chair and walked out, slamming the door loudly.

He walked out in front of the university building through a side exit and fired up a cigarette while standing by his car, taking a deep drag of the smoke, clenching his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

He didn't want her at his place, he wished she would just leave him alone.

He looked around him with absent-minded eyes, seeing students entering and leaving from a distance − he spotted a face he recognised after a moment, but something didn't feel right.

The same girl who had begged him to let her study under his supervision was apparently just walking towards the bus stop, but instead of a long black hoodie and black trousers she was wearing a light-coloured dress with buff sleeves and long woollen socks to mid-thigh.

She had changed her clothes.

She came to his class covered up, dressed as a boy.

I know what rules you have set in your workshop and I wish very much now that I had been born a man, but unfortunately I am not.

I will always work at the furthest table and sit in the last seat as far away from you as possible, dressing in such a way that you do not notice me and forget my existence on a daily basis.

He was furious with himself for feeling some kind of shame and pain, knowing that she looked perfectly normal.

Now, looking at her sideways, he realised that if he had seen her dressed like that today when she came to talk to him, he would have immediately lost his good opinion of her.

Most girls who applied for a place in his workshop thought that the prettier they dressed, the sweeter and more appealing they looked, the better the chances were that he would say yes. However, his tendency was just the opposite and for some reason this girl knew it.

She knew she wasn't the problem, it was how he perceived her and she wanted to change that image in his eyes, to blend into the background.

He swallowed hard, taking a drag on the remainder of his cigarette, staring blankly ahead, realising that she really must have cared.

He figured that if she did what he told her to do, he'd give her one and only chance.

For that sacrifice, for the fact that she understood what he had a problem with.

She showed up only a week later with two thick folders filled with sketches, again dressed in a big black sweatshirt, black trousers and trainers.

For some reason, he felt a squeeze in his heart at the sight of her.

He took her to an empty classroom so he could look at her work without the curious stares of other students. He knew she had done as many sketches as he had told her to, but he didn't have the energy to look through them all.

"Lay them out here. Show me the top 40." He said impatiently, standing a good distance away from her with his hands folded behind his back, smelling that coconut shampoo again.

He saw that she gave him a quick, horrified look and parted her lips, looking at the thick bundle of papers she held in her hand. He rolled his eyes, trying not to explode.

"Can't you judge which of your works are suitable to be shown to me?" He growled warningly wanting her to pull herself together, but she shook her head quickly and began at last to choose.

He frowned as he saw that most of her works were copies and sketches of details from churches he knew well, at least dozens of them, so he decided that she had really taken his task to heart.

"That's enough." He commanded and stepped closer to the table − she moved away immediately.

He thought he liked how she respected his private space and allowed him to focus without her input on what he was seeing.

He leaned over her works, noticing that they were more refined than the ones he had seen before, still light, but also enigmatic and expressive, all drawn on scrap paper, so they reminded him of sketches by Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo.

He liked the fact that she had wisely chosen to portray saints and angels, as these were the most common commissions they received as a students or workshop, showing her skill in this field.

He picked up one of the sketches of a sculpture of the Virgin Mary which he knew intimately, having looked at it often as a child when he went to Mass every Sunday with his mother.

"Is that a figure from the church of St Michael the Archangel?" He asked indifferently, wanting to see if she knew what he was talking about, or if she was sketching by looking at pictures on the internet.

She, however, nodded quickly.

He hummed under his breath and stepped back, looking at everything she showed him from a distance, folding his hands behind his back again.

He thought he was pleased with the result of her work.

That he could give her a chance.

"A month. For a trial. If you disappoint me, I'll kick you out." He said lowly and walked out, leaving her alone with his words.

He stepped into the workshop and was met with curious, uncertain looks from his students.

"Don't you have anything to do?" He growled, and they immediately bent over their tasks and sketches, all around him the swish of a diamond knife and the sound of breaking glass, the rustling of paper and brushes.

Cregan walked up to him and stood over him, unable to contain his curiosity.

"And how did she do?" He asked quietly, but before he had time to answer him, he saw her standing in the threshold, pressing her sketches to her chest, looking at him questioningly.

He nodded for her to enter, and with a light, happy step she crossed that invisible, mysterious line that separated his world from everything else.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[ciellunee]

I DON'T DESERVE LOVE

Pairing- Kento Nanami x reader

Genre- angst, smau, hurt/comfort

Synopsis- Nanami is exhausted and snaps at his girlfriend, making him question if he's even capable of her innocent love?

It was almost 11 PM, and nanami was still not home. You were lazing on the couch, waiting for him to return. Nanami has been a little too busy for the past 2-3 months. You and Nanami have been together for almost 3 years now, and the past few months haven't been the best for the two of you.

Every time you tried talking to him, he'd get really frustrated and snap back at you. You understood his anger and frustrations were due to work stress and let him be.

It's been 13 days since you and nanami held a proper conversation even though you share the mansion. You missed him, his tired face made you worry and you became anxious and depressed. You wanted him to leave the job and find another one, a job that doesn't Overwhelm him like this, but you were too scared to present your views. However, today, you finally decided to voice yourself. This relationship isn't going to doom because of a stupid job!

You knew he didn't mean it. Kento wasn't one to ever hurt you on purpose, let alone make you cry, but today..... it was different.

You want to understand kento tonight aswell, you want to be a doll for him tonight as well. You want to drag yourself to the bed and sleep again, but something just snaps inside you. Your cheeks feel hot, burning water pouring down your eyes, not even realising you're crying, you try to text him back, to tell him you're not his servant but lover, that you demand his respect and crave his love and attention but you're too exhausted to do that. So you stood there, phone in your hand, throat and eyes burning as you let your overthinking get the best of you. *Did he really think you're selfish?*

You didn't realise when you fell asleep in the living room, on the hard wooden floor, face exhausted and strained, cheeks stained by tears you let yourself cry to sleep and for what? Your lover's text? You felt pathetic, "Of course, he was right. I'm always too much to handle he's tired of me" being your exact thoughts before fatigue took over you and your eyes closed.

At around 2:30, your boyfriend entered the home looking absolutely drained. The bags under his eyes are huge. He's done with everything, just wants to be in his love's embrace while he forgets all about his job.

Entering inside, he is met with a tired looking s/o lying on the floor near the couch. His heart sinks as he moves forward to see her face hot and tear stained cheeks. He really never wanted to see you like this, that's why he worked his ass off so that you would never face any difficulties in life. His precious darling could enjoy her life without worrying about deadlines or getting consumed physically and mentally. Nanami never wished to see you like this. His hands shook as he held you close to his heart, mumbling an apology you're too asleep to hear. "It's all my fault, isn't it? I couldn't be the person you deserve. I always wished that you would never get caught in a life where you'll have to trade that glorious smile off for some money, but I did it myself. I don't even remember the last time I made you smile~ You regret choosing me, don't you?"

His eyes gave up, and the stoic jujutsu sorcerer and monotonous salary man nanami kento was bawling. His body shook half from the fatigue and tiredness and remaining from the fact that he became the person he was trying to save you from. His mind played every memory, every moment you two spent together, every time you made nanami smile. Coming home to such a loving partner was his victory in life. It was his achievement. He wanted to protect you, to save your innocent heart, but now he was in his living room crying, contemplating if he ever deserved someone like you?

The next morning, you wake up in your room, your head aching wildly, but you ignore it and search for the only person you wish to see. Did he tuck you in? When did he come home? Where was he? But you could only find a note stuck to the nightstand. "I've got to discuss something really important with my boss, I'll be home soon. Ps- there's some sandwiches and your smoothie in the kitchen. Love (your ken)"

You blushed as your fingers kept going on your Ken. For some reason, this morning felt weirdly positive. Your heart fluttered, thinking you'll finally get to spend some time with your boyfriend after weeks of him ignoring your presence.

After a few hours, your phone dings grabbing your attention, a message from kento pops up~

[kitashousewife]

FUZZY BRAIN

an: im distracting myself but i haven't stopped thinking about this idea. so thought i would give it a spin. super super loosely based on my interpretation of fuzzybrain by dayglow!

pairings: timeskip!kuroo x fem!reader

warnings: slight angst, stress mentions, eating and drinking mentions, kuroo needs a nap :/

-

"how's your day going?"

"no, i don't need a receipt."

a very confused barista stares back at kuroo, who blinks back at her.

"wait, sorry," he grimaces and shakes his head. "my day is alright, how is yours?"

she responds, but he isn't really paying attention. lately, he hasn't been able to focus on much of anything. he grabs his coffee and heads back to the office, forgetting the embarrassing conversation before sitting down.

spring had finally arrived in japan, bringing an onslaught of responsibilities along with it. like the blossoms floating in the wind, different tasks and deadlines seemed to float their way onto kuroo's plate. his planner is full, daily agendas scribbled into whatever room remains. nothing seems to slow down. each item he crosses off is replaced with a new one in a matter of minutes.

he's scatterbrained.

"remember, we have that marketing meeting at five kuroo-san," one of his colleagues pats him on the back while sneaking behind his desk.

"oh, that's right," kuroo mumbles, flipping through the pages of his planner, finally reaching today's date. staring back at him, among the six other important things due today, is the meeting. highlighted, circled, and underlined. "see ya then."

he leans back and groans.

at this point, the due dates and deadlines aren't bothering him. he's almost numb, but comfortably so. he's found comfort in the hustle of it all, avoiding having nothing to do. his mind craves being busy.

his body disagrees.

kuroo's aching fingers rub at his eyes, preparing himself to stare at his computer monitor for the next few hours. dark circles have formed underneath his eyes, unmoving. his head throbs, but when is it not lately?

"kuroo-san, ushijima wakatoshi's manager called just now and wants to speak with you," one of the department's secretaries taps her palm on his desk, causing the mound of papers to slide slightly. his typing continues, and kuroo doesn't even notice.

"kuroo-san?"

his head shoots up. "sorry, did you say something?"

she gives him a sad smile.

"no, it's nothing. i'll tell them to call back."

as she clicks back to her desk, kuroo's brows furrow, before he cringes. just like this morning.

he's not sure how he got to this point. kuroo's always prided himself on his quick wit and problem-solving skills, as well as his hard work. he wouldn't have been able to imagine himself like this. overworked, exhausted, brain full of fuzz, and eyes bloodshot.

he doesn't recognize himself sometimes.

the day trudges on, the phone ringing constantly along with a steady flow of messages in his inbox. he crosses things off on his list, finally reaching the end. he smiles, with relief or pride he isn't quite sure. soon enough, it's time for his meeting, which means it's almost time to go home.

-

kuroo stumbles out of the door of his building, quickly brought to reality by the honk of a taxi and the shuffle of other commuters. he sighs, beginning the walk home.

it's times like these when he's thankful to live so close to work. all he wants is to get home, shower, and sleep. he smiles again, so close to being in the comfort of his own space, when his stomach growls.

then he frowns.

kuroo groans for what must be the tenth time today when he realizes that despite all of his meticulous planning and record keeping, he's forgotten to get groceries this week. at this point, he's past all of his regular takeout places. closing his eyes with sigh, he crosses the street to enter the small neighborhood market.

his fingers rub against his tight neck, sliding around to loosen his tie before grabbing a basket. he wracks his brain, attempting to come up with any dinner ideas for the evening. nearly walking into the door, kuroo tries to remember what's in his fridge at the moment.

"welcome in!"

"you too," he half waves at the cashier, their own waving hand slowly falling in confusion. kuroo remembers the chicken in his fridge, and finally begins to form a menu. he grabs a few veggies, an extra bag of rice, and heads into the last isle. his hand grabs a bottle of oil, and he stops.

his brows pinch together, staring down the bottle in his hand. why did i grab this?

he shakes his head. his mind races, trying to remember any sort of thoughts he had before grabbing this. he blinks, running recipes through his mind before letting out an irritating huff.

"what is this even for?"

"frying things, usually,"

"what?"

you blink up at him, grabbing ingredients of your own for your basket. his eyes widen.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry. i don't-" he cuts himself off. "i'm so tired."

confused at his sudden raw honesty with a stranger, he scratches the back of his head.

"don't worry about it," you reach for a bottle of your own. "i've been there."

his fingers tap the side of his basket.

"how did you cope?"

you smile at him.

"it's okay to take a break. i mean i don't know what you do for work," you gesture towards his tie. he looks down at it and chuckles. "but everyone deserves to rest."

he nods. he could cry, honestly. this is the first real, non-work-related conversation he's had in weeks.

"making something good?"

he laughs. "i can't remember."

your wrist spins your basket at your side. you do feel for this stranger. the second you walked into the aisle, you noticed how tired he looked. the vacant stare and slow blinks said it all.

"you need to eat."

he snorts. "i don't think i have the energy to cook anything. i'm trying to talk myself out of swapping all of this for a frozen pizza,"

you smile, holding up your basket, displaying just that.

"nothing wrong with that!"

every second kuroo spends talking to you in this too-crowded aisle is melting the stress from his shoulders. he's tired, so tired but he doesn't want this to end.

"i want to see you," he slides the basket further up his arm, patting his pockets with his palms. "again i mean. i want to see you again. can i?"

you look up at the handsome stranger again, smiling when you notice a grin of his own.

"s-sure. need a pen?"

"if you've got one. i don't think i'd be able to remember a phone number tonight."

you dig in your purse for a pen, flipping an old receipt over to scribble your name and number down for him. after you hand it to him, he repeats your name.

"i'm kuroo, kuroo tetsuro. sorry for not introducing myself earlier," he mumbles, suddenly feeling a little shy. his vulnerability catching up to him at last.

"well kuroo, i hope you remember to call." you place the frozen pizza in his basket and walk towards the check stands. "cause i would love to see you."

kuroo smiles wide, the words he was going to say dying on the tip of his tongue.

while he enjoys his frozen pizza that night, still in his work clothes on the couch, he calls you.

he decides before the sun even sets that he's calling out tomorrow. he's going to sleep in, as long as his body allows. and he's going to see you. but this time he will give you his full attention.

kuroo's not a believer in fate, but you just might make him one.

[yesimwriting]

Hi! I'm so exited that you asked for request for tasm Peter Parker, the second I saw it all I could think of is him being like, assertive..does that make sense? I don't know he's just so sassy and lovely, and I believe whole heartedly that when it comes to people he cares about he can be very pushy with them.

So like I don't just like a scenario for you to build off of, like domestic assertiveness like making his s/o take breaks when they're over working themselves like gently but firmly "suggesting" they eat something or take a nap or go out side, get fresh air you know anything. This is just something for you to go off but I'd love anything you'd make. I hope you have a lovely day :)

a/n omg i hope i captured the vibe that you described bc it's just SO GOOD like so in character and cute,, he's just meant to be a bf

----

It's so much like clockwork that you don't even need to look up from your notebook to undo the latch of your fire escape. Which is a good thing, because the day has somehow managed to crawl by at a snail's pace and still slip through your fingers too quickly.

All of your homework has piled up through no fault of your own. At first, only two classes decided to share a deadline, but then another teacher assigned you an essay and another added a test on the math chapter you've understood the least. At first you thought you'd be able to push through and finish off most of your work today, giving you a decent amount of time to try to decode your calc. But now it's been hours and your eyelids are feeling heavy and you've just started a pre-test worksheet that you had forgotten about.

The now familiar groan of the fire escape being pulled open barely registers. Despite how hard you're trying to keep all your focus on the study guide, a warmth you've gotten much too used to roots itself in your stomach.

"Always unlocked." Peter's already pulled himself into your bedroom, the shift from the outside world to your room a transition he could complete with his eyes shut. "As Spider-Man, I should tell you not to for safety reasons, but it does make it easier when I'm tired."

Your eyes tear away from the page long enough to look at him. Peter's mask is already pulled up his face.

"I don't--you're tired?" You blink hard, trying to focus. "Was it..." The whole Spider-Man thing being so open is still relatively new to you. Peter's never made it feel like a particularly sore or easily triggering issue, but you know how much trust he's giving you by being this casual about it. And you're prone to worrying, to pushing and doting and wanting to wrap Peter in bubblewrap. "...Eventful?"

Peter frowns, leaning forward on the window sill. "That gets a reaction?"

You retrace your words, wondering if you've said something wrong or overly sappy. You can't find any mistakes. "What?"

He relaxes at the genuine confusion in your voice. He gives himself a second to really look at you, at the notebook on your lap. "Are you still doing homework?"

"Uh..." It's almost like the papers surrounding you are embarrassing. "Yeah, a lot of stuff's coming up." You let out a breath that doesn't exactly work as a laugh. "And I wanted to finish it early so I'd have time to ask Gwen to go over some calc stuff with me."

Peter stands slowly He's not used to this, to feeling unsure in your room or around you in general. Maybe you're trying to be passive aggressive. Did he forget something? Or stand you up or do something to upset you? He can't remember anything negative about any of your interactions, but that could just be his side of things. Maybe he's been taking advantage of you knowing his secret. It's easy to become less attentive when he can just fall back on blaming everything on Spider-Man.

"I know about calc." It feels small, almost shy.

"I know." You swallow, hoping to hide any insecurity in your voice. Peter's the most important person in your life and on days like this you don't feel like you deserve to even run in the same circles. All of the stuff you're struggling with comes naturally to him and on top of that he's a freaking superhero. Complaining about not getting math and school stress has to sound stupid and unimportant to someone who literally fights crime. "But I was going to see her tomorrow morning anyway, and it's just some basic stuff I want to make sure I get before the test on Friday."

You don't want his help. He tries not to take your reaction personally. Gwen's your friend just as much as he is and there a lot of reasons you could be waiting. Maybe you're frustrated and over trying to understand it today. Or maybe the way Gwen summarizes things makes more sense to you.

Peter stands, consciously telling himself to let it go. It's been awhile since the two of you have just gotten to peacefully co-exist. Okay, only awhile by your usual standards considering that he had hung out for awhile after school before his usual patrol. But that was mostly studying, and he misses you more than he can justify.

He picks up a notebook and a few papers scattered next to you, shuffling them neatly before sitting next to you.

"Peter."

"What?"

The amount of innocence pushed into the word forces you to look up. "I'm--" He's closer than you thought he'd be, staring at you with a partial pout. "I'm trying to do homework."

His hand shifts, pinky touching the side of your hand. "Take a break." Your head snaps up. "You've been doing it for way too long."

Your chin comes up a fraction of an inch. "Because I need to."

"You're going to burn yourself out." You want to listen, to at least pretend to be considering his opinion, but your tired and his tone is so contradicting. A touch of actual annoyance is in there, but it's undercut by an exasperated softness. Equal parts stress and a concern that'd better fit a parent correcting a child for their own good. It's too genuine and oddly nice. You smile. "I'm serious."

You recover quickly, forcing yourself to frown, "I know, but I'm seriously okay." You wish there was a way to physically prove it. "I just..." You wipe your eyes with the back of your palm, "I have to do this sometimes." Something about the way your voice softens tells him that you're not talking about just homework. "It's not always natural."

Peter turns too quickly, his knee bumping into yours. "Hey." He doesn't know where he's going with this. Doesn't know how to talk to you about these kinds of things without melting and fully exposing himself.

"You are so smart and-and good at so many things." The praise hits you straight in the chest, making warmth rush to your face. "But taking care of yourself isn't one of them."

You roll your eyes, finally finding it in yourself to look at him. "Which one of us messed up their hip two weeks ago and wouldn't go to the doctor?"

Peter sighs, "It was not messed up."

"It so was." You crane your neck to better glare at him. "You could barely walk."

He presses his lips together, fighting down a smile. "It was not that bad."

"I had to help you get to my bathroom." You keep your tone light, partially teasing, but it still doesn't feel that casual. That was the first time you had seen him that injured. It had turned your stomach so much you couldn't even overthink about how close the two of you were physically as you helped him.

That was almost your breaking point. You wanted to get him to a hospital. The two of you could have come up with some kind of story to justify the injuries that wouldn't have outed him as Spider-Man. But Peter practically begged you to let it go, to just patch him up like usual and let him crash in your room for the night. You wanted to push, but he had been so insistent and nice as he tried to comfort you. You caved. You always cave.

"I was--a little sore." The admission is reluctant. You tilt your head, eyebrows raising as if to say that you've made your point. "Not the same." He says it like that should take away from your feeling of victory, but it really doesn't. "I'm serious, you can't work yourself sick."

You let out a small sigh. If it was coming from anyone else, you'd be annoyed enough to tell them off. But this isn't anyone, it's Peter who's trying to mother hen you to death for no other reason than worry.

You reach for his arm, fingers gently squeezing just above his wrist. "I'm not sick." He turns his hand over. "It just--it's not always natural to me...and I have to make up the difference."

"Don't do that." Your pointer finger drags down the face of his palm. "You're too smart not to see it." Peter 's hand shifts into a fist, trapping your pointer finger. "And you're too smart to burn yourself out."

There's no way for you to get any response out, so you just stare at where your fingers tangle together. "I'm okay, I just need to keep my calc grade up."

He's close enough now that when he lets out a tired breath you can feel it against the side of your head. You can't remember moving closer. "And if you fall asleep in class or can't focus because you're exhausted."

"That doesn't--" You don't know what to say. That that doesn't count, that that kind of thing doesn't happen to you. You know that Peter's just trying to help, but you're not in the mood for reason and understanding. You just want to feel like you have it together the way everyone else seems to. "You get less sleep than me."

You push yourself further onto your bed, creating some needed space. The closer you are to Peter, the easier it is for you to melt. One inch too far and before you know it you're holding hands or his head is on your shoulder and your fingers are gently combing through his hair.

A part of it feels petulant and a little silly. He's your best friend, you don't know why you're starting a competition over whose worse at self care.

"Yeah," he admits easily, leaning back so that he can better look at you, "That's how I know it's hard." Peter shifts again, the movement has your notebook almost falling forward. "And I don't--" He sighs, eyes dropping down to the mess of papers between you. "I don't want that for you." The words are mumbled quietly, his attention focusing on organizing your notebooks and paper.

It's enough to get you to visibly soften. He's just looking out for you the way you want to look out for him. "I know, it's just--" You watch Peter tap his pile of your notes against his leg, straightening them out. "It all has to get done and I--I see everyone just getting it and doing all these other things and I'm barely holding on to the bare minimum."

Peter stops. "What?" He immediately sets down your notes in favor of reaching for your hand. "You can't--" He squeezes your fingers, more for his own sake than more. "Getting the grades you do isn't the bare minimum and you're--" Peter stops himself from gushing over how smart he thinks you are. "Is that why you don't want me to help you with calc?"

Spider-Man has made his life harder in a lot of ways, but he never thought it'd hurt his relationship with you. It's been a conscious choice. You're a priority.

Maybe he's been talking about it too much...coming off like he thinks he's that in important when in reality he just wants to impress you. Is that it? Have his attempts to seem cool and brave and like a guy worth your attention come off as ego?

"Is..." He isn't sure where to start. "Is this because of..." Peter can't bring himself to say it, so all he does is lift the hand still holding onto the mask.

"No," you blurt out a little too quickly, "I-I mean I don't think so, at least not fully." You sigh, embarrassed that this even needs to be a conversation. "It's that you're balancing that and your grades perfectly and Gwen's got her internship and one week of extra assignments is all it takes to throw me off. And it feels like I always need help with this stuff." You briefly squeeze your eyes shut, unsure how you even admitted that. "And now I'm officially terrible friend. I suck."

Peter pulls your intertwined hands forward, settling your fist on his knee. "No, you're not." You give him a look that says you don't buy a word of it. "You do so much, even if you don't see it." He drags his thumb across your knuckles. "You help me a lot."

You don't feel like you do. Peter's the one going out and taking the hits every night. The most you do is research certain local crimes and patch him up the best you can. That's nothing compared to everything he does for everyone. It's not a competition, but you definitely don't feel okay adding to his work load. "Peter--"

"I'm serious, do you think I could do everything I do without knowing that you're here?" Peter's expression blanks. Too much. Way too much. "And that--that you're ready to help clean me up and-and research all that--" He cuts himself off again. There is no good way to comfort you without accidentally admitting how much he cares. "Crime stuff."

Despite yourself, you smile, "Crime stuff?"

Instead of taking the bait and falling for your slight teasing, he holds onto his point. "You get what I mean." He lets go of his mask in order to squeeze your hand between both of his. "You're important and so smart, even if you're not always smart enough to see it."

Heat rushes to your face. "Okay." A reluctant retreat. Peter secretly indulges in his victory. "Help me with calc?"

"Okay," Peter agrees easily, "Tomorrow, though, because you need sleep."

You roll your eyes, "You are such a mom sometimes."

"You're the one that wants to get Spider-Man a jacket."

You let out a mock gasp. That suggestion had been a joke. Kind of. "First off, I was kidding." Eh. "And second, it gets cold in the winter and your suit's so thin."

Peter grins before taking his hands back. You frown a little at the loss of contact, but try to recover quickly. "Can I stay over?" He wraps his arms around himself, exaggerating the chill in the air by moving his hands up and down his arms. "Because it's so...cold?"

You fight down a laugh, reaching over for a pillow to hit him in the shoulder. Honestly, Peter's found some lame excuses to sleep over, but recently it's like he's not even trying. Which is perfectly okay with you--if he's tired, he's tired. And also, it's always kind of nice when Peter stays over. Nicer than it should be. "I should lock you out and let you freeze."

"Mhm," he hums, pushing himself to his feet, "Do I have any--"

You pick up your homework so that by the time he gets back from changing, Peter will have space to lay down. "Top drawer, I threw your sweatpants and some of your shirts in the laundry the other day, so they're good to go."

Peter lets himself smile once his back is into you. He can't remember ever giving the whole domestic thing much thought before he started crashing here kind of regularly. Your parents are rarely an issue, both of them have long commutes to work which means they're usually asleep by the time Peter can swing in and they leave for work in such a rush that if they do check on you before leaving, Peter only has to worry about hiding for a second, and his extra sense always warns him in time. They're a lot less likely to catch him bruised and injured than his aunt.

"You're perfect." The honestly of his words leaves his face hot. It's a good thing he's still not facing you.

You're still too busy organizing your school stuff for tomorrow morning to notice the way that sentimentality swells in his throat. "Mhm."

"I mean it," he pulls open the drawer, taking out what he needs to sleep, "You need to give yourself more credit or I'm going to do it for you."

Warmth begins to crawl up your chest. Why is your best friend the kindest, most understanding, overwhelmingly pretty person you've ever met? "That's the worst threat I've ever heard."

Peter shuts the drawer and turns towards your bedroom door. Your bathroom is just down a short hall, and as long as he's quiet, he won't get caught. "That's because it's not a threat."

You move to sit at the edge of your bed, "Oh, are you--" Asking if he needs any kind of patching up still feels awkward. You're not sure why...there's nothing even remotely feely about it even though it's overly touchy, even by your standards. "Did you get hurt at all, or--?"

"Oh," he shakes his head once, "No, I'm--" Peter knew you'd ask, you always do because he doesn't always love showing you the more tolerable bruises and cuts until you give him those soft, worried eyes. But he's actually fine tonight, which means that he didn't really have an excuse to stop by and sleepover. "I'm good tonight, just a little tired."

You nod, expression so casual Peter can't read much from it. Maybe you're so used to him crashing by now that you don't even need to think through the reasons. "Good. I like when you're safe."

Fondness tugs at Peter's chest. "I'm always safe."

You roll your eyes as he slips out the door. A few minutes later, Peter comes back. You're already laying in bed, beneath the covers, face only illuminated by your small, bedside lamp and cell phone screen.

"I know I said you need sleep..." You push yourself to sit up a little straighter. "But if you wanted to watch something for a little bit..."

He trails off, trying to push against the slight guilt of selfishness. Most nights when he stays over, Peter tries to time his arrival to give you two enough time to watch something on TV. The two of you usually fall asleep too quickly to care what's on, but it does make it easier to get close to you. If you guys watch TV first, he can find a window to hold your hand or pull an arm around your shoulder.

But you really do need sleep tonight.

"Yeah," you grin, "Sounds nice." You push yourself a little more to your side of the bed. "Just for a little." Both of you know that the TV will be on until whoever falls asleep first has drifted off. The one that's still awake will have to search the bed for a remote.

"Cool," Peter agrees, walking around your bed to turn the bedside lamp off, "Wanna watch the show from last time?"

You nod lazily before finding the remote. Peter gets into bed as you adjust the volume before opening the right streaming service. With a few clicks, your show is on. As the intro roles onto the screen, you drop your head onto Peter's shoulder.

"Hey," he whispers, knowing you're half asleep, "You can't let yourself get stressed out like that and not--" He trusts you so much, and he wants you to be able to feel the same way for him. "Not tell me about it, okay?" He finds your arm in the dark, fingers instinctually drawing patterns against the inside of your wrist. "Please?"

You try to sit up a little straighter, but all you actually do is just read your head more fully on him. "Okay." It's a fair request considering the way you bully him into admitting to every new cut and bruise, no matter how small. "I promise." He trails his nails down your arm, "I'd pinky promise, but I'm too tired."

Peter lets out a partial breath, amusement trying to disguise itself as annoyance. He moves his hand, taking his time to find your pinky. He bends his around yours. "Do you only keep me around to do things for you?"

Even though the joke is the complete opposite of everything he's just said, you still smile as you let out a mock gasp. "No, I keep you around 'cause you're pretty."

The teasing comment is worse than the kind of response you'd throw at him if you were more awake. He's suddenly glad he turned off your bedside lamp before laying down. "I'm pretty?"

A second passes and no response. Not even a hum of acknowledgement. Carefully, Peter leans forward and sees that your eyes are shut and your breathing has evened out.

[keqism]

⎯⎯ 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⊰

.࿔ feat. xiao + gn. reader

.࿔ premise. letters from the heart are always written in gold. 

.࿔ cw. fluff, college au, meet cute, a single virginity joke 

.࿔ notes. utterly in love with xiao, please come scream about him with me

Despite popular belief, the library is never silent.

It's a muted cacophony of rustling pages, the creaking of chairs, and the occasional soggy sneeze from the unfortunate soul who caught the latest virus on campus. But fortunately for you, it's the right amount of noise needed to focus. You're tucked away into the back corner, notebooks hazardously strewn across the table. Your only companion is a lukewarm cup of iced coffee, condensation running down the sides and forming a puddle that threateningly inches toward your papers.

Today, the library is unusually empty; the seats at your table are vacant. It's a blessing to you—fewer eyes to witness your silent paroxysm of stress. With multiple deadlines approaching (underlined in three different colors in your agenda), you can feel the exhaustion catching up to you. It's your fault, really, for procrastinating. But in your book, the early bird doesn't get the worm, and things turn out better with a deadline chasing after you.

Nevertheless, procrastination or not, the stress was taking a toll on your mind, and as you slam your head against the table in frustration, you feel tears well up in your eyes.

Amidst your breakdown, you hear timid footsteps approach your corner and look up, forehead aching from hitting your head against the table. The sight in front of you takes your breath away.

The boy before you is beautiful.

Snowflakes litter his hair like powdered sugar on dark chocolate, dampening the dark strands.  Large hands awkwardly grip the straps of his backpack as he lingers in front of you, burrowing his nose into his emerald green scarf as a cold draft comes in from the windows. The only part of his face left unhidden are his eyes: golden, lined with dark lashes and a light dusting of red eyeshadow—golden eyes that now meet your gaze. 

You feel your heart skip a beat. And then it skips another beat when he speaks. 

"Can I sit here?" he mumbles, gesturing towards the empty seat across from you. You nod, scrambling to gather your haphazard mess of papers and frantically push them onto your side of the table. Something fragrant floods your senses as he sits down; soft notes of vanilla and amber drown out the dusty smell of the library, clearing the fog in your head. Taking a sip from your watered-down coffee, you watch as he pulls his laptop out of his bag, a myriad of colorful neon sticky notes covering its gray exterior. You sneak a brief look at them.

"Email Prof. Zhongli back ASAP" 

"Lunch with Kazu and me tomorrow 2PM, don't forget!! — the better friend >:)" (scribbled in glittery purple ink)

"XIAO YOU THIEF DID YOU TAKE MY POETRY BOOK??" 

The last note makes you choke on your coffee, an unattractive cough escaping your lips. Golden eyes glance up in surprise, but concern quickly melts into amusement when he sees your shoulders shake with laughter. You awkwardly clear your throat and duck your head behind your laptop screen. But curiosity eats away at you, and when you peer up at him, you see his cheeks flush red and a small smile curve on his lips.

Something in your stomach flutters.

His name is Xiao, you later learn, and you know exactly three things about him.

ONE

An intricate pattern of green decorates his right arm, but it's usually kept hidden in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. You've seen it exactly once, when the air conditioning in the library broke one day. Xiao had grudgingly shed his jacket when the heat got unbearable, leaving him in just a white T-shirt. 

You could have sworn that the temperature in the room got hotter when you caught sight of the green ink.

TWO 

Every Tuesday, his friends accompany him to the library—not to study, it seems, but to serve as a distraction for both you and Xiao. The one who sits to his left is Venti, and also who you consider the library's worst nightmare. Rather than working, he chooses to talk Xiao's ear off and scroll through his phone. But although he glares at Venti during the entirety of their stay, you can tell that Xiao doesn't really mind his presence.

To his right sits Kazuha, literature major and Xiao’s roommate. Unlike Venti, he's rather quiet, spending his time scribbling in an incredibly worn-down notebook, leaving you wondering what stories he could be weaving within its covers. He's pretty, you think. If you weren't enamored by Xiao, you would have gone after him.

They're an odd mix but it somehow works: Kazuha proofreads everyone's papers (and nearly loses his mind when he sees Xiao's). When Xiao and Kazuha are visibly stressed, it's Venti who pesters them until the tension in their shoulders relaxes. And when Kazuha's just about had it with Venti, Xiao's the one who holds him back until he calms down.

In your opinion, they're quite entertaining to watch, albeit a little distracting. 

THREE

Despite his aloof exterior, Xiao is endearingly shy. 

You've never had a proper conversation with him; a small nod and a smile are sufficient enough for both of you. But as the months slowly pass by, he comes out of his shell—like a stray cat, you muse.

Behind his stern gaze and intimidating aura, Xiao is sweet and attentive. When you caught a nasty cold during exam season, he made sure to pack a box of tissues just for you. When your stomach makes embarrassing noises in the evenings, he slides a granola bar across the table without a word. And once, when you accidentally fell asleep with your nose buried in a textbook, you woke up hours later to a familiar sweatshirt tucked under your head and a note stuck on your laptop screen that read "good luck on your exams, you can do this".

You tucked the note into your nightstand later that day.

Your friendship isn't one-sided, though. Your fancy highlighters always end up on his side of the table, colorful ink decorating his neat handwriting. When his phone dies (and it often does; it's rather old) and his eyes pleadingly look your way, you're already handing your portable charger to him. Oftentimes, your extra hair tie makes its way from your bag and into his messy hair, holding the strands up into a bun. And on some days, Xiao arrives at the library to find a cup of coffee waiting for him at his seat—iced caramel macchiato with extra vanilla syrup.

Slowly, something more than a friendship blooms—something filled with quick, bashful glances and soft smiles. And although the warm, fluttering feeling in your chest is hard to ignore, the two of you are too shy to address it.

Today is different, though. 

He's late—it's a quarter after six when Xiao scurries into the library. And instead of sitting across from you like he usually does, he slumps into the chair next to you.

You watch the flustered boy pull his laptop out, your brows furrowing in confusion when you notice the lack of the usual obnoxiously vibrant sticky notes stuck onto the lid. Instead, there's a single blue square covered in writing.

"You can do it Xiao!!" 

"OUR BABY XIAO GREW SOME BALLS" 

"RIP to Xiao's virginity!!" 

The last note was furiously scribbled out in black ink.

Today feels different because Xiao appears to be very nervous: his left knee bounces under the table, jolting against the leg of his chair. A sheen of sweat beads on his forehead and he refuses to make eye contact with you—even when you wave hello.

"Hi," you smile. He nervously meets your gaze for a second before glancing away, mirth glittering in your eyes like the sun's reflection in the summer sea. 

"Hello," he mutters, and he attempts to smile back, although he's sure it looks more like a grimace. He awkwardly clears his throat, raking his hands through his hair while he tries to collect himself. 

"Xiao, are you okay?" you ask, and he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, knocking your cup of coffee all over the desk. 

"Oh," he gasps, scrabbling to save his laptop and your papers from the growing puddle of caffeine. You mop up the spill with some spare napkins and try to reassure him, but your words fall on deaf ears. 

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," he stammers. "I was going to ask you out but I got nervous and—" 

Realizing what he was saying, he snaps his mouth shut in embarrassment and slams his head against the desk, cradling his head in his arms and praying to every deity to erase his existence while you hold back your laughter. Xiao is usually ever so composed; seeing him so flustered is rather endearing. 

A soft touch to the back of his hand interrupts his prayers, startling him. He peeks out from the protection of his arms to see a pink sticky note stuck to his skin. You're smiling, and the sight is enough to feed the butterflies in his stomach. The setting sun bathes the room in a soft golden glow; time feels like molten honey as Xiao slowly reads the note.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

if it's hard to talk, we can always text :)

Something in him warms at the sight of your handwriting, and he finally looks up to meet your eyes. A real, genuine smile dances on his lips, and he hears your breath catch. 

Golden eyes always looked prettier under the sun, after all.

.࿔ notes. big thank you to aly, kyo, and xin for beta reading!!

[the-wip-project]

Realistic Goals

Hello writerly friends!

Today's theme is: Setting realistic goals.

40k in 42 days, of course, means 1000 words per day with two grace days, or 952.38 words per day if you write every day. But you don't have to do that! 

Remember, we're not living in Perfect-Utopia-Land, where we have those magical, uninterrupted hours every day to write. Imagine you're setting yourself this huge goal, and then it's just impossible to hit it at this point in time with how your life is going, and then you'll feel like a failure every day for not hitting that goal. Who needs that kind of stress?

Despite the name, hitting 40k or setting it as your goal is not a requirement for participating in this WIP-project. All you have to do to participate is to write as much and as often as you can, while still taking breaks and getting your life done. We don't want writing to be stressful, and we don't want to sacrifice our physical and mental health for it, or the well-being of our friends and family.

Write what speaks to you, rest when you need it, and write as much as you can.

This is your permission to set yourself the smallest goal you want to hit. It's 300 words per day? Great! Is it 30? Awesome! Is your goal to sit with your pen or your keyboard for 25 minutes every day, no matter how many words you get down? Excellent!

Realistic goals are personal goals, and it's only you and you alone who decides what and how much that is.

Don't forget to create a project at https://www.mywriteclub.com/ with September the 14th as the deadline, if you want to have a pretty graph for your wordcount.

Let's write!

[cryoux]

Alhaitham with reader who has chronic pain (from Eleazar)

Pain was a constant thing in your life. As far back as you could remember, you'd felt pain every day of your life. Sometimes, it was on the surface, manifesting in an itch that hurt to scratch but was agonizing to leave alone. Or it could come as a pounding headache, threatening to knock you to the ground with each new wave. There was even pain in your very bones, the supposedly solid structure of your skeleton suddenly feeling brittle and frankly useless. 

Pondering thusly: if you felt pain each waking hour and even seeping into your sleep, did you really feel the pain at all?

It would be nice to consider these fascinating questions, maybe write an essay about it - if only you could find yourself mobile enough to hold a pen.

Today, it was your wrists. Stiff, brittle, useless. There was no hope of doing anything today, or even tomorrow, for that matter. It was all you could do to lift a cup of water to your lips. Archons, you hated this feeling. Most days were completely fine, you could almost forget about the lifelong agony, the torture of merely existing. Not this time.

Still, you refused to wallow in bed. Instead you unwrapped the binding bandages over your arms, closed all the windows, locked the door, and tried to do anything to pass the time. Solitaire, a game of chess (playing as two nonpartisan people, of course), cleaning dishes (you only broke two!), and sweeping until the floor was spotless. At some point, you'd stupidly tried to wash the floor on your hands and knees, only to be stuck there in agony for fifteen minutes.

Useless. You felt so useless, not only to yourself, but everyone around you. Constantly asking for deadline extensions, unable to finish in-class assignments, incapable of doing the simplest household chores. Here you sat, here you stayed, and only here you allowed the silent tears to fall.

A knock on the door startled you, and you reeled in shock before hurriedly wiping your eyes dry. Could it be your research partner, wondering why you hadn't met with them today? Or maybe it was your neighbor, who saw all the closed blinds and wanted to make sure you were alright.

For some reason, the actual answer surprised you more than the other two unlikely events. You rolled the sleeves of your jacket down before you opened the door and peeked out, but it appeared there was never a need for the secrecy. There at the door stood Alhaitham, solemnly meeting your gaze. 

Though he didn't speak, you could feel the questions burning into you. You both loved and loathed how easily he could read you; it made for easy communication on your part, but you could never hide anything.

Maintaining the silence was a simple task. You turned away from him, retreating into the darkened house without even closing the door - you knew Alhaitham would take care of it. Did you particularly want him here right now? No, not like this. Not with how vulnerable you felt.

"You didn't call for me."

You flinched at the sudden rumble of his voice. There was more intrigue than concern in his voice, while his expression gave nothing. The only thing that you could deduce was that he wasn't entirely happy with you.

"No, because I'm fine." A lie. Both of you knew it, and Alhaitham sighed to indicate as such. 

"You're not fine. And frankly, it's insulting that you'd assume I would believe that." He wasn't mean about it, he was simply telling you to cut the shit. You knew he wasn't truly insulted; there were plenty of other things to stroke his ego.

You scoffed. "Maybe I am this time. You can't dictate how I'm feeling." The argument was ridiculous as you said it, and you could hear the exasperation building in Alhaitham.

"Your bandages are off, meaning you haven't left the house, nor do you plan to. The blinds are all closed because you don't want to risk anyone seeing you right now, the chess board is one move away from checkmate, you haven't put your books away," Alhaitham strode through the living room as he pointed out each miniscule detail that you had long since given up on. "The counter is wet," he nodded toward the kitchen, where water was sitting all over the counter, "There's this bit you forgot to clean up," he lifted a small piece of the porcelain plate that had met its demise earlier that day. "And there is a straw in your cup." He finished his little walk through, circling back around to stand in front of you. You couldn't quite meet his gaze. "Shall I continue?"

The more he had pointed out, the worse you felt - seeing as you couldn't, he would have to clean most of these things. Adding chores to his schedule was the last thing you wanted to do. You shook your head, unable to keep the words in any longer.

"I didn't mean to leave everything out. I was just trying to pass the time, and everything I tried went wrong. I couldn't even stay asleep long enough for a nap, and the bed isn't made, the laundry is still outside, the floor is half clean, I broke two dishes not just the one, I dropped my hair brush in the bathroom, I can't make food for myself, I'm-"

You were silenced by a firm grasp on your aching wrists - firm, but not the slightest bit harsh, and you dared to raise your eyes up to meet his.

"Honestly," he huffed, "You're impossible." How had he known where you were going with that? How could he tell you were spiraling before even you realized it? Alhaitham gently tugged you to the couch, sitting you both down. The sleeves of your jacket were gently rolled back up, exposing the horrid sight of them. You tried to pull your accursed hands away, but to absolutely no avail. Instead, the green of Alhaitham's Dendro vision began to glow, and a faint light emanated from his hands on your wrists.

Within moments, the pain in your arms began to ebb, and you felt warm as sunlight on a lovely spring day. Shocked, you stared at where he held you, watching the scaly appearance of your skin reverse its effect ever so slightly. What in Teyvat was this?

You opened your mouth to inquire as such, but he silenced you almost immediately. "I encountered Tighnari today. He recently wrote a comprehensive analysis of The Withering occuring throughout Sumeru. Eleazar is linked to it almost directly; it seems he even has some firsthand experience." Alhaitham never met your gaze, as if he was just a little shy. "Since dendro seems to temporarily reverse the effects of Withering, I thought I should try…" in a rare moment of uncertainty, he paused. "...something."

His words were truthfully the only cure you needed.

After a bout of silence disturbed only by internal thought, you cracked a smile. "So you thought if you infused your hands with dendro, you'd take some of the pain away." These words seemed to be correct as Alhaitham's green eyes narrowed, almost reminiscent of a pout. How cute.

"It was only my hypothesis." He grumbled.

"Well it was correct." Your smile was soft, as soft as the grip he had on your hands. Beneath the layers of sarcasm and apathy, every now and then a spark of emotion would shine through, and you lived for each one of those moments, where you could finally see Alhaitham's humanity once more.