#self indulgent fic because

[zanukavat]

should've never given this fucker a gun

[wifeyoozi]

House husband! Kim mingyu x reader drabble (comf + fluff + smut)

Imagine coming home after a long day at work. You had worked an extra shift after your boss has embarrassingly and sexistly reprimanded you in front of your important clients during your meeting. You are tired as hell, your eyes are aching from sitting on your laptop for hours, your feet hurt from wearing your business heels and youre just frustrated.

When you open the door, you are instantly greeted by mingyu who peeks at you from the kitchen, puts away whatever he was cooking and runs to you like a little kid, the sweetest and brightest smile on his face as he greets you and takes your laptop bag from you.

"hey, beautiful," he says, pecking your lips sweetly, "I saw your location near home so I just drew you a warm bath. Go and get fresh and I'll set the table by then." You smile sappily, feeling all your tension lift off your shoulders by the thought of a nice warm bath.

You strip out of your clothes once you reach bathroom and sink into the warm water in the bath tub, sighing in relief. The water helps the soreness in your muscles and you feel like you could sleep then and there if not for your stomach making protest noises from hunger. You lazily lather up some soap on your hands and legs and wash up before getting out of the tub and drying yourself up with the warm towel which you could bet was freshly out of the drier. You sigh dreamily, whatever good deeds did you commit to get a perfect husband like mingyu.

You pull over one of Mingyu's oversized tee's and slip on a pair of pajama shorts, heading towards the dining when the aroma of the food mingyu prepared. You settled on the dining table where mingyu was just serving you a plate of something new he made. He'd been trying to learn to make new cuisines from recipes he'd see online and have you taste them and they are always amazing.

"it's something greek! I saw a recipe and i know you like eggplants so i wanted to make it for you!" He told you and you chuckled. You took a bite of the creamy casserole-like dish, a satisfied moan immediately leaving your lips when the rich flavours reached your tastebuds. "Do you like it? Do you like it?"

You giggled at your man's excitement, "oh, I love it! So good, it feels like home!" Mingyu giggled and pecked your forehead before sitting beside you with his own plate. You two engage in mundane talks about your day and you tell mingyu about the horrible day you had at work and how he's already made you feel so much better about it.

"I never liked James anyways, your previous boss was better. Sad that she had to retire," mingyu comments. He then grins naughtily, nudgi g your feet with his own, "also, in case you are not too tired, I can make you happier~."

"really? I'd love me some fun dessert," you say winking.

Once you two were done eating and cleaning the table and loading the dishwasher, he picked you up in his arms, bridal style, and took you to your bed, throwing you on the soft sheets before kissing you like no tomorrow. You laugh into the kiss out of pure joy of how excited your husband gets when you are like this.

He pulls over his tshirt, revealing his hot abs and gorgeous body and pulls down his sweatpants, leaving him in his black CK boxers which did nothing to hide the big size of his hardened cock. You reached out to grab it, but mingyu held your wrist. "Uh-uh, beautiful, tonight is 'bout you."

He pushed your shoulders till you are laying flat against the bed and push your tshirt up to reveal your boobs. He kisses down the sensitive soft skin of your chest, nibbling and marking the flesh near your areolas and sucking on your nipples when you tangled your fingers in his shirt black hair. He moved south, kissing your bloated tummy (thanks to the amazing food your husband makes for you) and down your navel.

He takes the waist band of your shorts in his teeth and effortlessly pulls them off your legs, not having to deal with your underwear since you didn't wear any after your shower. Mingyu would tease you about it any other day but right now he's just too hungry to tast you to care about it.

He kissed down your thighs, bruising the delicate skin with his teeth. As desperate he was for your pussy, he never compromises on foreplay. When he was satisfied with his artwork on your thighs, he finally moved his mouth to your cunt, licking a stripe, his tongue dipping under your outer labia, moaning at the taste. Nothing he would ever cook could compare to the heaven that hid between your legs.

He used his hands to spread your legs wider and hooking then over his shoulders for support. He lapped at your juices like a starved dog, continuously praising you for getting so wet and how great you tasted. He entered his middle and ring finger, palm up in your cunt, thrusting in and out and curling them at the spongy part which made your thighs shakez while he got down on sucking on your clitoris, determined to make you cum before he could fuck you.

You cum surprisingly cum quicker than usual, your thighs shaking and hips stuttering over mingyu's face. You whined when mingyu put his tongue over your sensitive clit again. "Baby, p-please, fuck me already. I need you dick."

"I'll give you what you need baby, but I want to make you cum once more before that."

"ah! I'd love that, but I'll actually fall asleep after another orgasm, and I need that one to be from your dick." You whine. As much as you enjoy letting mingyu pull orgasm after orgasm from you before he even got his cock in you, you were too tired today. And as much mingyu loves seeing you cum over and over on his tongue and fingers, he doesn't want to tire you out too much. It's still Wednesday, and you need to go to work tomorrow, and he'd hate to have you get insufficient rest.

So he reluctantly pulls away from your beautiful pussy and takes off his boxers, his dick springing up against his hard abs. As often as you have seen your husband's penis, it never gets tiring to such over that beautiful length and thick girth. You reach your hand to stroke him a little, spreading his already leaking precum throughout the length.

He grabs your hips, slotting his cock head against your entrance and slowly thrusting in. You moan as the pleasurable sting of the stretch from his dick clouds up your mind. Mingyu stays inside for a second, leaning down over your body to kiss you. He starts fucking you, a little slow at first till you catch up with him, before putting into your hips like an animal in heat.

His loud groans matches your moans, your manicured nails sure to leave back scratches all over your back as you grip him tightly for support. Mingyu's hands venture back to grab your ass because he just can't help it and grips it tightly enough to bruise them with his finger prints.

You both reach your orgasm almost simultaneously, him helping you by rubbing your little clit. You cum first, breathing heavily as the dopamine release feel fluid in your veins. Mingyu cums soon after, your walls spasming around him post-orgasm stimulating him just the right amount to paint your insides white. The creamy seme leaks as he exits you gently.

He kisses your face gently, leaving to get a wash cloth. He cleans between your legs up with the warm and wet towel before getting another softer towel to dry it. You are already asleep by the time he comes back. He pulls down your tshirt to cover a decent amount of you and slides into the bed beside you, pulling the covers over you as he pulls you close for cuddles. You wake up momentarily to adjust yourself closer to him, wishing him a good night before you both fall asleep, happy and comfortable in each other's arms.

Now stop imagining cuz ain't no mingyu becoming our cute little house-husband

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

"What flowers do you like?"

Wriothesley asks one day, trying to seem nonchalant. Trying to make it look not as obvious that he's already mentally running through a list of Fontanian florists.

But you hm to yourself, frowning. "I... don't know. I've never really received flowers before," you say with a shrug, acting like it's no big deal. Wriothesley, though, has to catch himself before he drops the pen in his hand.

"Never?" He asks with wide eyes, head snapping in your direction, jaw dropping the slightest bit. "None of your past relationships ever got you flowers?"

You shake your head, not really bothered by the fact, and although you're nonchalant about it, Wriothesley immediately feels the gears in his head turn. That mental list of florists runs through his mind at double the speed. His finger absently taps on the wood of his desk, mind racing as he does some rough estimations. Unaware and unsuspecting, you merely go back to perusing the books in his office, running your hands over their worn spines, oblivious to the clench in Wriothesley's jaw and the determined glint in his eye.

A week later, and Wriothesley returns from the surface with a bouquet in his hands. It's nothing too big or ostentatious— that's not really his style. Instead, it's simple in its beauty and easy on the eyes. All sorts of flowers have been included, even ones not native to Fontaine. Cecilias from Mondstadt, Glaze Lillies and Qingxin from Liyue, Padisarahs from Sumeru, and even Fluorescent Flowers from Inazuma's Chinju forest, among others. All arranged by hands more skilled and talent more honed than he could ever hope to achieve.

Wriothesley knocks on your door, heart stuck in his throat, and can't help but laugh a little at how cliche it all looks. Him, standing in front of your door with a bunch of flowers in hand, desperately trying to fight down his blush when he hears a 'coming!' faintly behind your door.

When you swing it open, your greeting is caught in your throat, eyes wide as they behold the blue and white blossoms Wriothesley brought for you.

"What... what's this? What's the occasion?"

But he shakes his head, and at his behest you take the bouquet into your arms, holding it carefully. When you bury your nose among the petals, they smell sweet but not saccharinely overpowering. It's enough to make you want to cry.

"No occasion," Wriothesley says, one hand going to scratch at the back of his neck, his smile shy and bashful. "I just wanted to get them for you. Wanted to be the first person to ever get you a bouquet of flowers, you know? But importing them took longer than i expected and, well, I told the florist that I was giving it to someone very special so they spent some extra time on the arrangement..." He trails off, clearing his throat nervously. "...Do you like it?"

And that sets loose the tears behind your eyes.

Wriothesley panics a little when he sees how you blubber, sobs making your shoulders shake as you hide your face in the flowers. His eyes widen, a frantic apology on the tip of his tongue while he fears that he messed up somehow. But then you tackle him into a hug, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close until you can bury your head in his chest and cry. His arms wrap around you almost hesitantly, but when you nuzzle closer into his embrace and they tighten around you.

You're barely able to speak through your tears, words muffled around his undoubtedly ruined shirt.

"I love it." I love you, you really mean.

And how can you not? This sweetheart of a man bought you flowers just because he wanted to. Because no one else had before, and he wanted to be the first person to do so. All his sporadic trips to the surface for the past week make sense— you doubt procuring so many imported flowers so quickly was an easy task on top of troubleshooting the various hiccups of the fortress and sorting through some documents that found themselves on his desk. But he did it anyway, just because he thought it'd make you happy.

"I'm glad," Wriothesley murmurs. He rocks you back and forth in his embrace until your happy tears begin to subside. Then he clears his throat. "So, can I buy you another one next week, too?"

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[blamemma]

max verstappen watching daniel ricciardo's new episode of no brakes on stream | inspired by x x x

[existwound]

shoutout to everyone who knows how to draw characters the way they look in canon because i sure dont. anyway heres my canon divergence au

[luthordamnvers]

'The next time Lena sees Kara, the blonde is 25, and she's in Thorul as a diplomat, to again try to convince Lex to stop the war, to see if they could come up with a solution.

The moment she sees Kara again, it's like everyone and everything else has come to a standstill, and maybe Lena has always been more than a little in love with Kara. She looks incredibly handsome, with a dark coat with gold thread sewn into it with beautiful designs and her family crest.'

As you wish

[venture4treasure]

“Of course I dream of more”

Words: 952

Premise: Servant!Reader washes Noble!Venture hair. They have a conversation. 

Warnings: A bit of forbidden love and mutual pining, but otherwise nothing! 

“Lay down,” you instruct, gesturing at the cot – the edge of the bed frame is pressed against a tub of water. 

Venture does as you tell them, tilting their head back into the water. They try to look at you, but you’re a bit too far out of their peripheral vision. 

Pulling over a stool to sit down across from Venture, you dip your hand into the tub of water, it’s a pleasant warm temperature. You splash water onto dry locks of hair before reaching to brush back their bangs, submerging them. You’ve barely done anything and you can see dirt muddying the clear water.

“Thanks for making it warm,” Venture relaxes. 

“As opposed to… cold?” You raise a brow, “why would it be cold”. 

“Some of the other servants don’t bother with warm water,” Venture pouts, “I’m starting to think they hate me”. 

“I’m starting to think I might hate you,” you comment, brushing your hand through their hair and watching debris wash out, “how do you even get so much filth into your hair? Weren’t you supposed to be sword training today?” 

Venture laughs awkwardly. 

“Sloan…” you drawl. 

“Well… I may have been helping out in the mines instead today”. 

“The mines? Isn’t that below your station?” 

“They tell some of the best stories! Besides, father doesn’t need to know”. 

You sigh in disbelief, switching to massaging soap into their hair and head. Venture stops themselves from whatever they were planning to say to lean into your touch. You chase off the silence by humming fragments of a song you heard in passing – it’s not good singing but Venture doesn’t mind, they like to hear your voice. 

“So, do you ever think about doing something different from this?” Venture asks, waving their hand in the air.

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, don’t you ever want to try something different? A different line of work, like being a scholar! God, I wish father would’ve let me just study instead of trying to shape me up into some kind of perfect heir to the family – that’s what Mauga’s gonna be anyways!” Venture groans. 

You chuckle at their whining. 

“No, not really,” you answer, “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to earn money. I am very lucky and grateful to be doing this in the first place”.

Venture goes quiet, their expression drops into a thoughtful one. They turn over the idea of needing money to live in their mind, it’s a concept so far detached from their day to day life, they don’t really understand it. There was always food if they were hungry, nice clothes for any occasion they could think of, and there was always a roof to go home to. Everything they needed was always there within arms reach.

“If you had the money, what would you do?” Venture wonders, both to you and themselves, “like, a lot of money”.

“I’d find a teacher to show me how to read and write,” you answer without hesitation, “and then… maybe I would travel to different kingdoms. I’d like to dance in those big ballrooms at least once. And… I’d probably find someone who treats me well to settle down with, in a nice and safe house close enough to the city market”. 

Venture glances up at you, taking in your face. Your eyes sparkle dreamily, a soft smile on your lips. Their heart aches at the sight combined with your words. 

You shake yourself out of the fantasy, “but my life now isn’t so bad either, it could be so much worse”. 

“What is your life right now?” 

“Right now, I work for your family, it pays enough to support me. One day, I’ll probably marry someone who’ll want kids, and I’ll try to raise them right…” you slightly cringe at your own reality, “protect them if I have to. I just hope I marry someone decent…” 

“You don’t plan to choose?” 

“I don’t really get a choice,” you shrug, “I have nothing to my name, I’ll probably just marry someone like me. Have kids so there’s someone to support me when I grow old. That’s how it usually goes”.

Venture doesn’t like your answers, they want to see you as happy as you were to share your dream. 

“Sit up a bit please,” you nudge them forward, and Venture pulls their hair from the dirty water so you can rinse out the soap. You comb their hair and lightly scratch their scalp as you clean away the soap. 

“Mann, that feels so nice”.

You make a noise of acknowledgement. 

Finally you’re done with their hair – you always forget how much of a pain it is when it gets dirt tangled in it. You wrap a towel over it so it doesn’t drip onto their clothes. 

“Okay, I’m done”, you announce, getting up to stretch. 

 Venture almost makes a noise of disappointment.

“Hey,” Venture calls out your name lightly, “would you like it if I taught you how to read and write?” 

You turn to face them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why?” 

They walk over to you, taking your hands into theirs. 

“Because I think you deserve to have a chance at happiness,” they smile, and there’s so much more they want to say, but they keep it to themselves. 

Your face heats up from the touch.

“Ah-” you stammer, “that would be nice, I’d really like that. Thank you”. 

Venture glows at your reaction, smiling wide. 

“Okay, now help me dry my hair, pleaseee,” they beg. 

“You can do that yourself”.

“I’m going to shake”.

“Do not threaten me,” you shoot back.

Venture holds your stare with determination in their eyes and you falter. 

“Okay, fine!” 

Author’s Note: I realized afterward that this setup doesn’t make sense at all and there’s so many logical issues with the concept but I really wanted to write it anyways. Spare me :( 

Mauga is Venture’s older brother in this. 

I just wanted an excuse to write about Venture’s hair. It’s so fluffy and needs to be appreciated. And they most definitely would shake to dry themselves and splash water everywhere. 

[guest-1-2-3]

Yk what blows my mind is when i’m reading something amazing right, i am so immersed in the story the writing is beautiful it’s making me feel more emotions than i’ve ever felt in all my years of living and then the end notes are just like. “uhhh hope u enjoyed ig? haha” or “idek what this is lol” like sir ma’am my guy your writing is the most gorgeous thing i have ever read. i cried and i laughed and i screamed and i did that thing where you roll around in bed and giggle like a child at 3am. if it was the zombie apocalypse and i could only take one story with me as i fought to survive it would be yours. “what even is this lmao” a masterpiece. a fucking masterpiece is what it is

[deiaiko]

#20.5 Care

"Agni…" Grace shook him awake.

Agni stirred on the bed, a little displeased. Grace was being a little rough today. Ever since they started living together in this new timeline, Agni usually woke up to Grace kissing his cheek, not an urgent grip on his shoulder. It would have raised his awareness, but for some reason, his body was refusing to do so.

"Please, wake up." Grace begged, voice a little wet.

Agni forced himself to open his eyes, squinting at the blinding light that made his head ache. Once his vision adjusted to the room, he saw that Grace was close to tears. He visibly deflated once Agni managed to lock gazes with him and finally let the dam break free. "Oh thank goodness. I've been trying to wake you a few times but you didn't respond so I thought–" Grace wiped his tears off and tried to regain himself.

"Wh-" Agni coughed weakly, his throat was so dry. What happened?

Grace began explaining anyway. "When I woke up I noticed that you had a fever. So I tried to check on you, but you were more sluggish than your normal sick days. So I was afraid that you were–"

Grace stopped mid-ramble as Agni found and squeezed Grace's hand, trying to stop him from panicking. Waiting for Grace to recollect himself, Agni pushed himself up to sit to make himself more awake. The world spun and a wave of nausea hit him full force. Agni pushed himself off the bed and stumbled a little when his knee tingled uncomfortably. Realizing this, Grace swooped him off his feet and carried him down to the bathroom.

Soon Agni found himself sitting down on the floor next to the toilet bowl. Grace draped a blanket over him before Agni realized he was shivering. Agni noticed that his breath was hot and his shirt clung to his skin from cold sweat. 

Because their bedroom and the bathroom were quite a hassle to go back and forth from, Grace prepared the water bed in the bathroom for them to use later, and Agni was thankful for his thoughtfulness. Grace then sat next to him and mindlessly rubbed on Agni's hunched back, up and down along his spine comfortingly.

As Agni emptied his stomach in the toilet, he hazily recalled taking a little more sleeping pills than he should have last night, plus drinking a few cups of wine beforehand. Though given the circumstances, he didn't know whether he could've stopped himself from doing so. In that case, he must've had a hangover, on top of the chills that he usually got after using his ice shinsu, which often developed into fever.

The room was quiet after the wave of nausea passed, and the silence was nice against his foggy mind. His breath was still slow and uneven, and his throat felt arid and sore. Grace didn't look like he was faring any better, with his eyes red and swollen, movement sluggish as if he was working on autopilot. Still, Grace tended to him patiently until Agni felt okay enough to lay back down on the bed.

However, Grace didn't join him as Agni thought he would, and instead made his way to the door. "I will get you some medicine."

"Do you know which to get?" Agni rasped out. When Grace didn't answer right away, Agni typed the answer in his pocket. "There, sent." Only then did Agni notice the time, so he added, "You should get breakfast as well, if you have not."

"Maybe. I won't leave for long." And Grace closed the door after saying that.

Agni was just hoping that Grace could have a breather from being cooped up to take care of him, but deep down he was relieved with that promise. After all, the thought of being left alone when his body felt like it was chained to the ground spiked his anxiety. His stomach churned as bad memories replayed in his mind from the reminder. He dragged his heavy feet and kneeled beside the toilet bowl for the second time, already missing the comfort of the bed. He retched to try getting rid of the awful feeling, but it wasn't effective when he had nothing else to empty.

As the sleep medication wore off, his thoughts also returned louder, and Agni was reminded again of why he decided to take another dose last night. It wasn't like him to do something so impulsive, but after Grace fell asleep crying, everything seemed too much to bear alone. He needed something to help him quiet all the guilt that he had piled up.

All the events leading up to that tragedy replayed vividly over and over. Each time he tried to think of ways it could've ended differently, but only a few seemed to have played in their favor. But of course, what good would it do him anyway? Because he couldn't change what had happened, even if he went back to the past. And the fact that they were gone was the reality he had to live with from now on.

Grace returned quicker than he had anticipated, with the food tray and all. But his complexion did look much better than before he left, so Agni felt somewhat relieved.

"Bam is outside," was what Grace said as a greeting. And yeah, it did explain a lot for his better mood.

"You should spend time with him." Because Grace needed someone to cheer him up, and who else knew how to do it better than himself? "Don't worry about me."

"How could I not?" Grace sat next to him, putting the food tray on the floor, completely ignoring Agni's former suggestion. Grace brushed his palm on Agni's forehead, the clear temperature difference made his eyebrows knit together in concern. "Your fever rose."

"It's not usually this stubborn." Agni exhaled some of his frustration, and began coughing as his body reminded him of how dry his throat was. He took a careful sip of the water that Grace offered and waited for it to settle before taking the medicine, swallowing it dry out of habit. 

"You should eat something." Grace pulled the tray so it was within Agni's reach. "Or drink some water, you're dehydrated."

Agni groaned, though he knew he needed to get something in his system to make his body focus on recovering. He nibbled on the crackers and drank the water little by little, deciding to take his time rather than risk it. Grace looked very satisfied when Agni managed to get everything down, which in turn also made Agni feel somewhat accomplished.

Not long afterward, Agni yawned, tired after being kept awake by the nausea and his loud thoughts. Grace had pulled Agni to sit on his lap, body facing each other to share as much warmth while keeping Agni upright, or else he might have an upset stomach later.

The way Grace's breath brushed past his neck grounded him, as it was an easy thing to focus on. Time passed slowly, and it would've lulled him to sleep if Grace didn't let the silence linger. There was a tenseness in Grace's shoulders, and the way Grace hugged him a little tighter than usual was enough to tell him not to leave his wave controller alone drowning in his thoughts. The moment Grace's breathing started to get uneven, Agni knew that Grace was crying. Absentmindedly, he began rubbing and patting Grace's back, earning him some sniffles. It was pathetic that this was the only thing Agni could offer to support Grace, but he couldn't think of anything better that he was able to give as of the moment.

Agni didn't cry, though he wished he could, so his chest could relieve some of the pressure and stop aching. To think that they were willing to save him without thinking of the consequences, was something Agni still had a hard time believing. That he was able to hold Grace like this was all thanks to them. He could've died that day if Rak didn't protect him, or he could've lost his mind by living in that damned place if Isu and Hatz didn't come for him. He missed his old team, both dead and alive, and all that he left behind in that war time. He never admitted it out loud, but god he missed them.

Eventually, Grace pulled away. His eyes were red and puffy, but his movements were no longer on autopilot. He tucked Agni back to bed after checking his temperature, saying that it had gone lower, and evidently it ceased some of his worry.

Agni snuggled closer to Grace, finding comfort at the thought of him. Alive, real and close by. "Thank you, for being here." 

The corner of Grace's lips pulled upwards in a gentle smile, "You too." His free hand ran through Agni's hair and massaged his scalp. "Get better soon."

Agni started to drift off to sleep then, comfortably tucked up under a blanket and safe in Grace's embrace. He remembered the way Grace placed a lingering kiss on his forehead before Agni was out completely.

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[hakusins]

saturday night dance

[epiphainie]

i haven't mentioned this before but one tommy kinard family lore idea i'm really attached to is his mother passing away during childbirth, while giving birth to him. just something something about him and buck both growing up haunted by this feeling of a life lost in exchange for theirs where tommy is aware of it his entire life, where his father slaps him in the face with the fact every chance he gets, in contrast to buck's ignorance and the sense of hollowness he feels in the pit of his stomach. something something about the buckley parents' grief translating to neglect and blindness when it comes to buck vs the kinard patriarch's grief becoming words that cut a bit too close to tommy's skin and pressure and unrealistic expectations that make him feel like he's gonna choke. something something about buck feeling unsettled all his life, lost about who is because of daniel's passing and maddie's abandonment and his parents' neglect of it all vs tommy knowing exactly who - what - he is but not being able to look it in the eye because it would be the one thing to make him even more worthless in his father's eyes than his existence costing them his mother's life.

[normal-person-i-promise]

»— yandere arataka reigen headcanons —>

tw for obsessive tendencies, possessive tendencies, manipulation (guilt tripping, gaslighting, etc.) sort of. forced isolation? like cutting off ties to friends and family

★ ★ ★

× It had started out normal. Just another client. Just another forgettable face. But the more Arataka talked to you, the more he felt your skin beneath his fingertips...

× He gets a little... Interested, in you, and manages to convince you that you'll need to come again — that the spirit weighing down your shoulders has not yet left, regardless of how you feel. He'd even charge less!

× So you come again. And again. And again. He'd always greet you with a smile, offering you a cup of "purifying coffee" whilst his hands worked away at your shoulders, making pleasant conversation as he does so.

× After a few weeks of him "getting rid of that god forsaken spirit", Arataka brings you to a ramen shop. He'd said that spirits despise this place — the food exorcises your body from the inside, however that works — and that the ramen here is "blessed". He'd brought you here to do just that; an exorcism, nothing more. The food is good and the staff are polite, so you agree to go with him again.

× And so it becomes normal for him to invite you out to eat — you'd even consider him a friend. He's polite enough; he makes pleasant conversation, he always walks you home... He's nice to be around.

× Whenever you'd tell Arataka that you weren't free to get dinner together, that you weren't free to see him, his tone would be one of hurt and his voice would be one of pain. He's done so much for you, after all. He's done nothing but help you, done nothing but heal you, even charging you less for those pesky spirits! What's one little cancelled plan just to see him?

× The more you talk to him, though, the more you realize that... Your friends, your family — or so you call them — aren't as good as you perceive them to be. "I'm a psychic!" He says, flashing you a charming grin. "I'm knowledgeable in these aspects."

× And so, one by one, you begin to cut them off. It's a slow process, one that hurts a lot more than it should, but you know that this is for the best. "You deserve better than them," he'd say over takoyaki. "You deserve someone who appreciates you."

× He'd message you often ever since he got your number. He'd call you late at night to rant about how this certain customer was just being such a jerk, and how he wished every client he served was just like you. Perfect, perfect you...

× Eventually, it had become a sort of... Nightly routine. You'd text him during the day whenever you were free, then call him at night to listen to him go on about a particularly nasty spirit, or a wonderfully polite customer. You'd... Consider Arataka a good friend now. The familiar ringing of your phone was like a comfort to you in the cold of loneliness, and his warm voice always brought a smile to your face.

× Sometimes, he'd... Say that he's too tired. He'd ask to come over, and you'd always say yes. It's so... Lonely, having cut off all your friends and family, so you always enjoyed what company he brought.

× He'd stay over at your place at least once a week, cooking for you and taking care of your home — acting as though he lives there, welcoming himself inside and helping himself to anything he needed. He's always polite, and seems to leave your house cleaner than when he entered.

× ...So you begin to invite him into your home almost every day. Arataka would almost never refuse your offer, saying that it's safer to have a powerful psychic around, especially since the spirits haunting you are so great and terrible. You absolutely love when he stays over for the night; it means you won't be plagued by a silent phone, it means you'll finally have someone to talk to.

× You grow... Attached, to Arataka, trying to see him more on the streets and getting almost every meal together. He's so... Sweet, so charming, and every time you'd strike up a conversation with him, he always seems so happy to talk to you. He seems so... Wise, so knowledgeable, whenever you'd ask him questions; it's like he always knows the right thing to say, and how to say it.

× He begins to get you gifts. Nothing special, usually just a bag of salt or a few handpicked "purifying" flowers. You'd always accept them with gratitude, smiling at him as you take the gift from his hands. He always seems to... Brush his hands against yours whenever you take the gift from his hands. Not that you mind, though.

× Your mental state... You can feel it getting worse. Turns out cutting off all ties to friends and family does things to you, so you find yourself going to Spirits & Such a lot more often to just have someone to talk to, someone you trust. "They're only with you to get something out of you," he'd said. "They don't want you. Just your services."

× You begin to spend almost all your time with Arataka, almost never being seen without him. Isn't it so lonely to be in your empty, quiet house, with no one to talk to? Isn't it so painful to be without him, to not be around him? There's no one else to be around, after all. Everyone will hurt you, everyone will use you. It hurts, it hurts, so you never leave his side. You always go over to Arataka's house, or he'd go over to yours.

× There's this one day when he's staying at your house for the night that he... He gets this debilitating headache — we're talking clutching his head, writhing in pain down on the floor — and he chokes out a few words, barely audible over his noises of pain. "Don't... Go out... Spirits... Will attack..."

× ...So you don't. You stay, most of the time, in your house. Arataka's always there to bring you whatever you need from outside your door — takeout? Got it! Groceries? On the way!

× Slowly, slowly, you find yourself falling for the charming psychic. He just seems so... Perfect, so much better than everyone else. "Everyone's out to get you except me," he'd said, giving you a soft smile. "I don't know what would've happened if I hadn't found you that day."

× ...Oh, and Arataka? God, he's obsessed with you. Your voice, your eyes, your hair... You're... Perfect. And what's more, everything he's been doing to you has been working wonderfully! You've cut off all your ties, you've put him on this high pedestal in your mind — you're falling in love with him, for God's sake! Finally, he has someone to be with! Finally, he won't be alone!

× When you'd confessed to him, he had been overjoyed. This is all he could have ever wanted, to be with you, to be yours, for you to be his! The transition from being friends to dating him is smooth — you've been doing everything a couple would do already: he'd bring you gifts, he'd stay over at your place, you'd have long phone calls that lasted until morning...

...

...That's... Weird. Arataka has been acting like he's been dating you, even before you began to fall in love with him...

...

× ...There's this one day when Arataka goes out for a company trip, and you... You break. God, it's so quiet, it's so empty, it's so lonely...

...Wait.

You've never felt this way before meeting him, have you?

× You reflect a bit. Okay, so... You meet him for a spiritual consultation, he gives you an exorcism, he tells you to come by more, he brings you out to eat... Okay, now it's a little fuzzy. You think he... You remember what he'd said, that... That your friends and family are inferior to him, that they only want to use you.

...Okay, that's a little... Weird. The jump between him exorcising your spirits and knowing about your friends and family...

× Come to think of it, he... Knows a lot more than he should. He knows what food you like, he knows what size clothes you wear, he knows your schedule, he knows where you work...

× Then he... He begins to treat you like his... His lover, even prior to you confessing him and the both of you starting to date, and then he... He discouraged you from going out, saying that there's "harmful spirits"...

...You're starting to doubt whether Arataka is even a psychic.

× ...Okay, okay! So, you try to get back into contact with your family and friends, and... Okay, yeah, they just shut you out, but that's fine! You'll be fine, you're sure. But you can't just... Live without friends, right? You can't just live without seeing your family every now and then, right?

× "You can," Arataka had reassured you when he'd come back. "I'm here. I'm more than enough for you, right?"

× ...You're smarter now. You push him away, kick him out of your house, told him that he'd cut off all your friends and family. "It's not my fault they're all toxic," he'd shot back, angrily. "It's not my fault that I'm the only one who can treat you right."

× ...Okay, that... That makes a lot of sense, actually. You welcome him back in, apologising profusely for your mistake. Arataka knows better than you, after all. You're bound not to see mistakes, not to see the flaws; that's why he's here. He's here to protect you from those horrid people.

× "I love you," he'd repeated over and over. "You can't leave. It's not safe out there."

× ...So you don't.

[orionauriga]

quantum immortality

the umbrella academy | five-centric s4 fix-it | 5k words | gen

“Be realistic,” Booth Five says. “It’s time you face inevitability. The rest of us have.” “No,” Five snarls, appalled at the words and doubly so to hear them in his own voice. “You know who you sound like? The Handler.”

In Max’s Deli, Five comes to a different conclusion.

-----

tldr: five hargreeves fucking loves and would do anything for his family and he would not lay down and die when told there's nothing he can do to save them.

[lilyrizzy]

jealous max who won’t let himself come off jealous but failing my beloved… an essential headcanon in these times lol. also reassuring daniel…

"You are still coming to Monaco, yes?"

It's the third time in just as many days that Max has asked him this. Over phonecalls that he initiated too. It's- Strange. Normally, getting ahold of him while they're in different places is impossible. Daniel once downloaded fucking discord in a desperate attempt to check his boyfriend really was just too busy on the sim and not like, dying in some corner of their apartment.

"Max, of course I am coming," Daniel tells him. For the third time. Then, because hopefully it will remind Max that he can't exactly get out of it- "It's in my contract, remember?"

Instead of the reasuring 'of course,' Daniel is expecting, followed by a mile a minute play-by-play of his charity race on Sunday, there's silence.

Or, at least no words from Max's mouth. Daniel can hear him breathing, the soft drag and drop of air, the rustling of sheets. It's easy then for Daniel to picture him shifting in their bed, and the familiar ache of missing him blooms in his chest.

"Maxy?"

"You can, of course, probably get out of it," Max says after another pause, voice casual in a way Daniel knows him well enough to have nicknamed his 'fuck the media' voice.

Why do you think you have crashed so many times this year, Max?

"Why would I do that?" Daniel asks with a startled laugh. Then, "come on, don't you miss me?"

Their joke that never quite felt it, not when Daniel has had so many things to miss over the last few years. Max, when they're apart. Family. Driving. The version of himself he used to see mirrored in Max's eyes as he watched Daniel climb up onto that top step.

It's even less funny now, when Max asks like he really is uncertain, "I don't know. Do you miss me?"

"Of course I do, baby," Daniel insists, sitting up from where he's been sprawled out on his back, the shitty pillows of the hotel bed too hard. He doesn't know where this is going, but he knows it's nowhere good.

There's more quiet, just the sound of Max wriggling. If Daniel was there, he could roll himself into Max's lap, hold his wrists above his head. Kiss him, tell him he's not letting him go until he turns that frown upside down.

Over the phone, all he can do is wait. Say his name again, until-

"You just- With Scotty, I think you have more fun. Than with me."

Max's voice is small, but his words knock the breath from Daniel's chest.

"Max," is all he can croak out for a moment, unsure of how to fix this.

Clutting the phone harder with one hand, his other comes stupidly to his mouth, knawing. In his mind, he tries to retrace his steps, to work out how they got here, but he knows he and Scotty have been hanging out a lot. And-

And there's some truth to it, Daniel can't lie. It's just not in the way Max thinks. It's not a question of fun, more-

"Sometimes, I just need- I don't know baby, to get away from it all," he rushes to explain around his bleeding nail bed, hating that all has to mean Max too. "The reminders that I'm not driving. That- That I failed."

Scotty is good for talking about everything but. His one good friend that never came with him to every fucking race, wasn't employed because of his career. Didn't see every crack, tear and scream that way Michael, Blake, Max did.

Somebody he can still be Danny Ric with, when he's sick of being Daniel Ricciardo, washed up and left out to dry.

"You did not fail," Max says, petulant, and Daniel doesn't deserve the smile he can't quite bite back, the way Max defends him even against himself. "You- I love you. I do not want to be something you need to run away from. It- It frightens me, feeling not so close."

Daniel is such a cunt.

"We are close," he insists, desperate, because they have to be. This can't be another thing he loses. "We- I'm going to get in the car and drive home right now, and show you how close we are. I'm going lie on top of you, squash you until we become one person, I- Fuck, Maxy, I'm sorry. I love you too, you- You know that, right, that I love you?"

To his relief, Max lets out a noise that's close to laugh, though it sounds wet like he's crying and Daniel wants to wring his own neck.

Instead, he gets up and starts packing.

"Yes?" Max says, checking. "Even if I remind you of all the bad things."

Daniel shakes his head though Max can't see, pausing where he'd been shoving his wallet into his pocket.

"Maxy, you are all champagne showers," he promises, and sometimes he can lie when he's sure that one day soon it will be the truth. "Champagne showers and Monday lie-ins. Just- Fuck it, I'll drive back in my PJ's, just give me a few hours, yeah?"

"You are coming home?" Max asks, hopeful through his tears.

Daniel so badly wants to kiss him.

"Yeah, baby, I'm coming home."

[sharkneto]

Hm. I've got an annoying lack of words right now, but not a lack of random WIPs.

If I edited up some of my Five's Time In The Apocalypse Fic (that was originally supposed to be like. a 10k piece about Five's relationship with Delores but is now over 30k words and only in the first year, still) and threw it up on AO3 with no plan or schedule for further updates except "Eventually" - would that be something you guys would be interested in?

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 1

Synopsis: The Doctor notices a student. She notices him.

a/n: thank u to the moots for sticking with me. Yall are the best. This is going to be a series. Somewhat of a dark!doctor ish fic maybe. I haven't planned this far. I have ideas. Will switch between a 3rd party but doctor centric POV and a 2nd party student centric POV.

The sun drew itself in on the cold day, light filtering through large windows in the lecture hall. It caught and reflected the motes of light swirling around. First day of the Spring term. Lots of new students trickled in and found their respective seats. Of course, the syllabus was now online and such. But the Doctor still preferred to give a paper one. He felt it helped students focus if they had it real and tangible…unable to forget.

Just like he forgot so much. A lingering pain….

He started up his usual dazzling spiel. Enough to keep them from dropping out, but not enough to rile them to madness. He learned that lesson early on in this particular charade he was distracting himself with. All he had to really do was keep Missy in the Vault and attempt to rehabilitate her. Humans were such a delicate group to keep balanced. Too much stimulation and they would self destruct. Not enough? The same but in a reverse spiral.

Or just fall asleep.

He preferred it if a few actually did fall asleep.

Allowed him to build a reputation as a teacher. Keep the act up.

He didn’t notice the young woman intently staring, writing down the key phrases from his opening statements. He was enraptured in the normal routine he has become familiar with.

The hour came to a close, and he did a bow. He was to visit Missy again some time soon. Just a cursory check. See if she’d calmed down from her last temper tantrum, where she demanded a saxophone and stated that Billy Clinton was also a war criminal, but made some sweet jazz.

He could hardly agree. She already was a mediocre piano player. And the drum set she demanded earlier lay in tatters in her cupboard.

Being her keeper and therapist was rotten work, but it warmed him. Gave him a gram of hope that she may get better and he may have his friend back once more.

Though, he knew in both is hearts, hope could be a fragile thing for a man to hold onto.

But, especially in this body, he believed in redemption and change. They both had forever to change. They had forever.

A few weeks had passed, and he noticed that keen eyes were burning the back of his neck as he scrawled on the chalkboard. It felt different than the usual glazed-over focus of people trying to write or type out his valid points. It was hot and felt more personal. Less trying to pass a class.

He paused his sentence and raked his eyes over. It was a student with large gold hoops and a few tangled gold necklaces. The Doctor recognized two or three of the symbols used on some of them from his travels through Earth’s history. She was chewing hard on her pen. He could see flecks of her tinted chap stick clinging onto the sides of it. Her eyes were squinted slightly and a slight patch of blush rested on her checks. He couldn’t tell if it was a make up look or some feverish feature of her human body. Perhaps she was in the first phases of getting sick!

He went back to his lecture. Some misfocused student was the least of his concern.

But he still felt her eyes bore into him. Intent on something. He trudged on.

He came to a close, reminded everyone of their upcoming projects and let the day start to rest. The Doctor announced that his office hours were changing to represent the spring coming soon and to “Allow you all to feel the sun on your faces, you don’t know how long you’ll have. Humans usually only live once!”

He scanned the audience and saw her shoving her notebook and that well-gnawed on pen into her bag. Big purse with a rhinestone buckle. Resembled something that Rose or Jackie would have had, he mused.

She slung that and a tote bag that seemed overstuffed and ripe for the breaking over her shoulder. She audibly groaned under the weight. He pitied her. The stressed look she had on her face was oddly enchanting in the light just starting to sink.

He knew she was struggling in the class. She did good work, yes. When he opened up questions and debate, she usually had such pointed takes that verged on mind-racing. Sometimes others would bristle against what she said on the more provocative topics he offered up. Essays and tests? Not so much. She floundered.

She had accommodations for some diagnosis or whatever. He could tell her mind was making connections in a far more tangential way than the other’s either couldn’t or wouldn’t make. And for that he did like her. Enjoyed what she brought to the table. Although, even his brains had difficulty making some of the leaps her brain did.

But why was she staring at him like that today? It was almost reverent. Very off putting.

She came forward to his desk and clicked open her notes app .

“Erm…Professor.” She cleared her throat and started up. “Uh, I was wondering if I could see you sooner rather than later. For office hours. I’m sorry for my late essay last week. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I can’t focus and I feel like I’m losing my mind half the time lately. May I have some insight or whatever you want on how I could do better. I know I’m doing…like, so bad.” She confessed and exhaled on the final note of her punctuation.

She turned a new type of stare towards him. Less intense and personal and more of a thousand-yard death grip.

Her entire demeanor in this moment was very lamb like. A confused air of innocent need to do well, to pass her classes, clouded her.

A weaker man would have felt more predatory, he noted.

She wasn’t unattractive for a human, not like past companions he worshiped the ground of. Of course. He was drawn to them for their natures, often ignoring their faces wholesale.

She started to chew and rip at her pinky nail and lower lip simultaneously…

“Of course,” He said. “I have to go help a friend with something, so I have to talk and walk.”

She nodded eagerly and gave such an appreciative smile. “Thanks!” The words came out so quickly, almost breathlessly.

She trotted along side him.

Once outside, they started discussing her options. She had to work nights, she stated, she said so they were arranging a time to work in a little extra help and tutoring.

He genuinely enjoyed her company and led her to a bench.

“What about your friend?” She asked.

“Oh, Nardole can handle himself.” He smiled. “He’ll not miss me for an extra four or five minutes.”

She laughed a bit.

She plunged her hand into her purse and started rifling around. It was a chaotic sight.

She produced a pack of cigarettes and a tiny green plastic lighter.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to quit, but it’s been hell lately.” She grimaced.

He shook his head, no, he didn’t mind. It wouldn’t affect him. Her, yes. But one little luxury, especially if she was trying to quit.

“So long as it’s your last for a while.” He took the teacherly route.

She lit up and took a huge drag. Closing her eyes he noticed that deep look of exhaustion had given her dark purple and almost black under eye circles. She had apparently tried to cover them up with some make up products and some mascara and smudged eyeliner. She held that breath in for a few seconds. It was almost beautiful.

She exhaled and fluttered them open. The smoke wisped and flew away quickly in the gentle breeze.

“Yeah, thanks. People get so weird about smoking. But they’ll vape? Like, indoors. All the time.” She rolled her eyes at that mildly hypocrisy.

They planned for her to meet up with him in his office on Monday just before the lunch hour. Then turned the conversation to some topics in debate that another student, a male who irked her with his constant urge to play Devil’s Advocate. She had some very often-overlooked viewpoints and a very bizarre way of describing things. It was enchanting.

“Thanks.” She ignored a boundary and squeezed his hand. He felt a holy jolt of electricity go up his arm from the small touch. “I gotta go…you’ve got a friend. Works been slow and I have some…appointments. So I have to make sure I’m perfect.” She elaborated with an almost tic-like shake of her head.

“Yes, my friend is probably going insane dealing with our little issue.” He responded in kind. Missy had probably caused Nardole to melt down or malfunction.

He watched her leave towards the bus stop. Her bags hitting her back as she rushed. Her coat barely covering her bottom and the belt caught in the hem of it. He felt himself feeling almost physically unable to leave the bench. Something tugging at his gut was preventing him from doing so. It felt akin to what River and Clara evoked in him but different.

River and Clara were strong and capable, avant-garde. Self-confident. Cocky. But this student was seemingly the inverse. Very vulnerable and nervous to the point of a near imperceptible, even to him with his keen Time Lord senses, shake and a heart that was audibly racing in its cage. Coupled with her addiction to cigarettes and minor tendency towards self mutilation via near-constant picking and chewing…

Something dark, but heartwarming rushed through his core and took root.

He felt himself deeply looking forward to Monday.