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popponn · 2 months

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xavier rarely wakes up before you. most of the time, you will find his eyes still closed with his arms clinging to you or around you one way or another. but, on the days when his blue eyes are the ones that greet you first thing in the morning, you will be greeted with a soft whispered ‘good morning’ spoken in his morning voice. these kinds of mornings will start slowly with a shared smile and quiet conversation about mundane, small things. it could be the cat he saw yesterday or that particularly funny part from his dream. then, it will end with his nose brushing against yours gently. sometimes it will lead to a kiss, sometimes he will simply stay there with your forehead against each other’s. sometimes, it will lead to long hours of cuddling and going back to sleep. it is after all that, he will finally start his day along with yours. though, of course, as an end note, even if he doesn’t wake up first, please do always let him begin his days with you. he will still be drowsy—like always—but in a very embarrassingly obvious manner that his expression can’t hide, he will be happy.

zayne seems to develop a habit of taking care of your clothing at some point. it is subtle enough, but it is undeniably there. he often crouches down to tie your shoes for you—without you asking, despite your protests. if you say he doesn’t have to, he will simply say that it is more effective or faster that way, or that he simply doesn’t see a reason not to. if you feel bad, you could return him by doing a favor anyway, he reasons. afterward, it will continue into him adjusting the scarf around your neck, tidying a crease on your collar, or zipping up your jacket right before the two of you go out. he too doesn’t shy from putting your lipstick or lip balm on for you. at some point, during a break day, you might find him sitting on the sofa, reading and watching tutorials about skincare or makeup. if you approach him, expect him to ask you to watch it along with him, though in through mister doctor fashion it might lead to journal and research about cosmetics that he will read to you.

rafayel loves your attention. and it shows—in a very annoying way that unfortunately has found its way to be adorable to your heart. he unabashedly wears a smug smile and keeps on mentioning how you couldn’t stay away from him whenever he spoons you. if you are the one spooning him, turns out he is not above acting like a spoiled brat who demands affection until he is sated. in a way, it is similar to having a puppy that is a fish and a lover at the same time. but beyond all his louder actions, there will always be a part of him that is softer in the way of a cozy rain and a warm blanket. it’s the part of him who will always listen to whatever you say and the part of him that will, will always have you as his ‘happy ending’ no matter what. the part of him that shows itself in the form of a smile full of yearning even when he cups your face with both of his hands. he has his secrets and his affection for you is not one of them. yet, despite everything, it still feels like he couldn’t quite manage to get all of it out for you. so, at least, when it is time for him to give you a glimpse into how much he holds you dear, do give him your undivided attention.

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cuubism · 1 year

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I see your "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make me have feelings for Hob!!'" and raise you "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make Hob have feelings for me!!'" because it's the only logical explanation for why Hob would claim to want someone like Dream

[ cat screaming crying . jpg ]

Dream storms into Desire’s realm, steps thudding on the uneven floor, rage propelling him forward. He cannot remember ever feeling such anger, such betrayal towards his sibling, not even when he had learned they were behind his imprisonment.

Desire’s games have always gone too far, but this is beyond trying to teach him a lesson, this is beyond what Dream can reconcile, this is simply cruelty.

“YOU,” he thunders, the air shaking around him as he stalks up to where Desire is lying casually on a chaise lounge as if they haven’t just ripped Dream’s one comfort in this life out from under him. “How dare you.”

“Brother, dear,” drawls Desire, popping a grape into their mouth with not a care in the world, “it is rude to simply fly in without even knocking on the door. You wouldn’t like it if I did it to you.”

Blind with fury, Dream grabs them by the throat and hauls them to their feet. Desire lets out a choked gasp, genuinely startled by his vitriol. Their pulse trips under Dream’s thumb.

Desire cannot be killed through something as simple as strangulation, but it truly is tempting to try. “What,” Dream snarls, grip tightening, “what have you done to Hob Gadling?”

Desire blinks at him, torn from their alarm by confusion. “Whomst? Listen, I know you know everybody’s name and their kinkiest fantasy but I honestly can’t be bothered with the details, you’re going to have to fill me in.”

The rage in Dream’s core only flares hotter. “Enough of this charade, you know exactly what you’ve done.”

“No, seriously, I have no idea what you’re—”

Dream whirls away, leaving his sibling staggering in the wake of his grasp. “Was it not enough?” he demands, staring sightlessly into the gleaming red curves of Desire’s realm. “Was the vortex not enough? Was a century of imprisonment not enough for you?” His voice cracks halfway through, and it’s mortifying. “Truly, your hatred of me is untempered by even the slightest compassion.”

Desire’s voice is quizzical when they next speak. “I am starting to wish I was behind whatever this is that seems to have pierced you straight through the heart. I’m afraid my own arrows have missed that organ thus far.”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream insists, but Desire’s seemingly-genuine confusion has him wavering. It’s not like them not to revel in their own victory, and oh, this has been a victory, Dream feels laid lower than even a century in a cage had managed. “You are manipulating him.”

“Once again, I don’t know who that is. But he’s clearly excellent ammunition so I’m certainly going to find out once you leave.”

Dream flexes his hands at his sides, summoning his control. If Desire truly was not behind this, then he’s already made a mistake in coming here. Best not to offer anything else.

Being in Desire’s realm makes this stoicism difficult. The very space brings emotions to the surface, drags feelings up from his stomach that he’s tried so very hard to tamp down. He tastes blood at the back of his throat, his stomach churns, his skin prickles with sweat.

Desire stalks up behind him, sensing all of this. “Now I am curious,” they murmur, dragging a finger up his shoulder, over the collar of his coat and along the back of his neck. “Now I must know what’s go you so riled up.”

“You think you have earned such things?” Dream says through gritted teeth. His heart is pounding hard and uneven such that it physically hurts in his chest, the weight of the Threshold bearing down.

“No need to earn, you can hide nothing from me here.” Desire circles around him to his front, dragging their finger along his collarbone until it lands right at the base of his throat. They look at him from under their lashes, all smug satisfaction. “You are all tangled up in the realm of Desire, aren’t you?”

Dream moves to storm off, but Desire blocks him, nails pressing into his skin.

“Nah-ah, no running away. Let your little sibling help you, hm? As you may know, I am rather wise in matters of the heart.”

The look on Desire’s face is craftiness, glee, not charity or wisdom.

“I neither need nor wish for your assistance,” says Dream, voice hard. “On this, or any other matter.”

“But there is a matter.” Desire leans in and speaks right in his ear. “I can smell the heartsickness on you, Dream.”

There is nothing Dream can say in response to this. Any denial would only be read as falsehood, for Desire does not lie – of late, Dream feels sick with wanting in Hob’s presence, hunger so sharp it turns over into nausea, much like the first time Hob had pushed him to eat after his captivity. How cruel, then, to have his pain eased, his desires sated by a reciprocation that cannot possibly be truly felt.

There is nothing to say, so Dream doesn’t speak. Silence, of course, is its own answer.

“You know, if there’s one thing I have always admired about you, big brother, it’s your willingness to destroy yourself for the sake of passion,” Desire continues. “You’d think that’d be my sort of thing. Who’ve you lost yourself on this time? Demigod? Demon? Dryad? Vampire?”

Dream glares at them, but does not speak.

Desire’s face absolutely lights up as they realize. “Oh. My. God. Is he human? Dreeaaammmmm, my my, maybe your little time out did change you, after all.”

Dream turns away, refusing to give them the satisfaction of confirming. Though he knows this reaction is also a confirmation.

Desire claps their hands. “Oh! I’m so proud of myself. Look at this! Look at the softness of your heart. Look how I can bruise it.”

Dream’s heart, indeed, gives a painful thump. “Should you dare to touch him, even the old laws will not protect you.”

Desire sighs, flopping back onto a couch, legs crossed, head propped in their hand. “Why bother? You’ll destroy it yourself, and that’ll be much more fun.”

I hate you, Dream thinks, like a petulant child. He hates, also, how any argument with Desire makes him feel that way, feelings crowding at the surface of his skin, throat tightening, mind spinning in a chaotic churn. His muscles clench so hard he thinks they might have snapped, were he human, then he forces himself back into a semblance of ease.

There is no extracting himself from this situation with any dignity.

“Interfere with my affairs again,” he warns darkly, “and I will destroy you.”

Then he storms out of the Threshold.

“Love you too!” Desire calls after him, a grin in their voice. “Good luck with your human!”

When he’d found Hob at the New Inn, thirty-three years after he’d meant to arrive, Dream had not known how he might be received. Friendship extended once may not be extended again after so brutal a rejection, and so prolonged an absence, no matter that the latter offense was not within his control.

Being met with a smile, then, and an easy acceptance of his apology, like Hob had already forgiven him long before Dream had stepped through the door, had been a revelation. Something had settled in him that he had not known was knocked askew. Could there, truly, be one thing in his life that was allowed to be easy? Where Dream’s missteps were not met with scorn or vitriol or world-shaking consequences, but with grace and the chance to try again?

It seemed improbable, but still Dream had grabbed for it with cold, shaking fingers. Had held that unlikely flame between his palms. Had watched as it grew, hotter and brighter with each smile Hob sent his way, with each gentle brush of fingers as he pressed cups of tea into Dream’s hands, with the hug Hob finally managed to wind him into, once Dream had told him of the true reason for his absence in 1989.

Hob’s grace, Hob’s generosity in inviting someone, something like him into his home, into his life… Dream did not quite know how to hold it, so unlikely it was. He tried, though, oh he tried. And he swore he would not mess it up, not like he had when Hob had first offered his friendship.

He has now, quite royally, messed it up.

He very much doubts Hob will be so generous this time.

He finds Hob where he left him, sitting on the couch in his flat, a book in his hand. He doesn’t seem to be concentrating on it; his thoughts feel scattered in ragged, disturbed daydreams.

He doesn’t even startle when Dream materializes next to him. Though he knows it can be startling to humans, Dream has not been able to break himself of just appearing where he needs to – traversing the long way from point to point is not how he works. But aside from the occasional, teasing, I have a door, you know, Hob never truly complains about these disturbances to his day.

Dream means to offer him an apology. To say, I should not have walked out when you said that you loved me. To say, I am supposed to be better, I am trying to be better.

Instead, just as Hob looks up, the words that trip out of Dream’s mouth, pushed by the flurry of Desire’s realm still pounding within him, are, “Did you speak truly, Hob Gadling?”

Which is a ridiculous question. Dream does not think he has ever heard Hob speak a lie. Still, Dream must have the answer.

Hob’s expression shifts through several incarnations, none of which Dream feels capable of reading. Finally, it settles on the same soft, exasperated understanding Dream remembers being presented with when he’d said, I know thirty years is truly quite late, at their reunion, before he’d told Hob why he was late.

Grace, then. He is to be offered grace, again.

His emotions are still so close to the surface that he has to physically swallow down what he feels about that.

“Of course, I did,” Hob says, and there’s a hint of nerves in it, but he pushes through, he always does. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

His gaze is genuine, open, and no, Desire had not lied – Hob’s feelings are no manipulation of theirs. And while it is tempting to search for other answers, spells or illusions or any number of other causes, Dream knows, deep down, that he will come up empty.

Hob’s feelings are true, are his truth, confounding though that is.

Dream no longer feels capable of holding any of this in his hands.

Instead, he kisses him.

It’s like he is pulled forward by a force outside his own body. He goes to Hob like he had gone to the sugar in the tea Hob had made him, that night at the inn when Dream had first realized how long it had truly been since he’d eaten; he goes to him like he had gone back to the Dreaming after being freed, returning home breathless, lost, changed.

Hob catches him against his mouth, hands cradling Dream’s face. His grip is solid and warm, and he kisses Dream like he looks at him like he speaks to him, with a care Dream hardly knows how to accept. He leans into it anyway, he leans in.

“I wasn’t fishing for a kiss when I said that, you know,” Hob says when they part, still lingering close enough that Dream can feel his heat, his breath. “I meant it in more of— well, that way, for certain, but really, any way you wanted to take it.”

“Any way,” Dream repeats, not sure he comprehends Hob’s meaning.

“Yeah, you—” Hob cuts himself off, letting out a breath, thinking. His hands slide from Dream’s face down to his shoulders, and he holds him there. “I. You just. I want you to know that you’re loved. Not demanding anything of it. Just telling you. Take it however serves you best.”

Dream stares at him, his whole being tripped and restarted at a new rhythm, and Hob gives him a sad smile.

“It’s too big to hold,” he says, and taps his chest. “In here. And besides, I wanted you to have it.”

Dream had had it. Only he hadn’t quite known what he had. The sunshine of Hob’s smiles, sustaining him, a bridge between distant points of light.

Finally, he manages to say, “I felt it. You have been my succor. My… only.”

Hob has captured him more effectively than Burgess’s snare, but this capture is not a prison. It hurts, oh, it aches, but it never wounds.

Hob smiles at him again. There’s still something pained in the creases around his eyes. “I know.”

He’s still touching Dream. His hands run over him, up his neck, over his throat, along his collarbone, and—

catch, on the collar of his shirt, above his heart.

“What happened?”

His voice is tight, now, worried, and— yes. There are bruises on Dream’s chest, crawling up over his breastbone. He had felt them form, and hadn’t stopped them.

Hob’s expression darkens further the longer he looks; he drags the collar of Dream’s shirt down, trying to see how far the damage spreads. “You’ve got bruises all over you. Dream, what happened?”

What happened is Dream stood in the Threshold and his heart beat so hard it drummed right through to the surface of his skin. What happened is it hurt so badly his form shifted to give reason for the pain.

“Desire,” he says, and he does not mean his sibling.

Hob doesn’t seem to understand, but he smoothes a hand over Dream’s heart as if to wipe the bruises away. Dream could will his body to return to its original, unharmed state, but he does not. He lets the blood stay pooled beneath his skin.

Hob sighs, tugging Dream’s coat tighter around him, shielding him from further injury. “Come here, you. You strange creature.”

He pulls Dream in, though he does not have to pull hard. Dream tucks his face into Hob’s neck, reveling in the warm scent of him, woodsmoke from the fireplace down in the inn where they’ve now spent many a long evening, basking in the heat of the flames. Hob’s arms go around him.

Absolution. Dream does not think this is a gift that has ever been granted to him.

“I would also love you,” he says. “If you would accept it.”

“If I would accept it?” Hob repeats. “Darling, your love is a privilege.”

Dream’s heart, in all its bruises and blood, finds rhythm again, and he thinks, though he certainly doesn’t pull away from Hob to check, that his skin clears up partway, too.

#dream literally STOMPING into desire's house and screaming at them #desire being like why are you hitting yourself? while wacking him in the head #truly sibling behavior #dreamling #the sandman #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #desire of the endless #my writing #i made dream like. way too self aware in the first draft of this. then i had to go back and make him LESS self aware lmao #like first draft dream: hm i think perhaps i am doing this because of my past trauma 🤔#me: babygirl u are not that self aware try again #as per usual. this started as a short little drabble. and got much longer. and much more serious XD

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beeb-oob · 2 months

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#creature #creature design #original art #have a drabble of what i've been doodling during class #probably won't have any spec bio posts for another while #but finishing school comes first so ye

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sweetbrier2908 · 8 months

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who fell first, who fell harder?

Mammon

He fell first and he fell harder.

He is completely in love with you.

He is crazy for you.

He is deeply in love with you.

He is head over heels for you.

He will do anything for you, and it means anything. Nothing can stop him from being with you. You're his angel, his guiding light, his only love, his first, his human. You're his everything. He couldn't think of one thing he can't stand about you (maybe just the fact that you're always so close with his brothers). He wants to be with you for the rest of his life and he hopes you want the same.

He was always so insecure, it was not like he cared about what his brothers and strangers say about him, it was not like those words were going to affect him schemes anyway - what he cared was what you will think about him after hearing those words. but you lay next to him every night and tell him how kind he is, how decent he is, how much Lucifer trusts him, how much his brothers love him despite their rude words, how great he is to you, how much you love him. Just like that, you chase his insecurity away.

He was always so scared that he couldn't be with you the moment you need him the most, that he couldn't be the one who SAVE you. he had failed once and twice, he doesn't want it to happen thrice. He had slipped and could have not been the one who protected you from Levi's anger, he had not realized and couldn't protect you from being hurt by Belphie.

Who is he if not the first one to protect you when he is supposed to look after you?

Little does he know, you love him the same, you love him as much as he loves you and you would do anything for him. He is your first demon and he will be your first and only lover. He is your guardian demon (even when he always believe that he himself of all demons doesn’t deserve to be your guardian demon, just him wait, you will prove to him that he’s so wrong) and you love him desperately as he does. You will defend him no matter what it takes, you believe in him because you know, from the moment you belong to each other, he will never betray you. You believe in him, because he’s kind, he’s full of love - for his brothers, for the angels who he always complains about, for the Devildom's Prince and his butler, for the world which they casted him out thousands years ago, for the mortal world you belong to, for you. You love him and you want him to feel that he is loved and trusted by you; you love him and you want him to realize how amazing he is, how great he is - things that he always says but never believe himself. You love it when he flustered while confessing, you love how awkward he is with kisses and hugs and affection, you love it when he will never leave your side, you love it when he said that now he's only greedy for your love.

Little does he know, you also fell for him as hard as he did.

Little does he know, you fell for him (maybe) the exact moment he fell for you.

Little does he know, you fell for him when he talked to you about the little girl in human world.

Little does he know, you are completely in love with him.

Little does he know, you are crazy for him.

Little does he know, you are deeply in love with him.

Little does he know, you are head over heels for him.

You will do anything for him, and it means anything. Nothing can stop you from being with him.

Nothing can stop you two being together.

Not even Lucifer, not even his younger brothers, not even Diavolo or his butler, not even the angels, not even the most powerful human, not even Father.

Not even him. Not even you.

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dottores · 8 months

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YOU GUYS MUST LOOK AT WHAT TEE GOT ME FOR MY BDAY!!!! SHE GAVE IT TO ME EARLY FOR CONGRATULATIONS ON FINISHING MY FIRST WEEK OF LAW SCHOOL

#i’m going to explain why it’s so special and you all will listen #ONE this is literally based off a little drabble she wrote for me while i was sad and the drabble was my favorite thing ever and it #literally made me cry sobs #TWO look at the DRESS!!!!!! it fits in with all of my other comms and i’m so happy because i love having consistency with my comms it makes #so happy #THREE #she got it from my FAVORITE ARTIST EVER ??? SOBS THATS SO SPECIAL TO ME I LOVE THIS ARTIST SO MUCH SHES MY GO TO ARTIST #and my face looks so pretty and even the couch and the background matches my other comms and i’m sniffling cuz i love it sm 🥹#quite literally the best way to finish off my first week of school 🥹#sobs this is so special to me i’m literally making it the new background on my watch so i can stare at it during class forever #this is the bestest birthday gift ever sobs i cry so hard it’s so thoughtful & in depth with my ss AND my fav artist ever i’m sobbing #— selfships

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dreamalittledreamofcopia · 7 months

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imagine copia returning home to you after a tour cycle. he holds you so tightly in his arms, you’re his oasis. his first sip of clean water after forty days of flood. his sore throat is instantly soothed and his achy and tired muscle finally relaxed.

your first night together again his head is in your lap, someplace between relaxed and fatigued. he’s looking up at you now, his face clean after you gently cleaned his paints. he feels healed. he feels like your man again.

“your hair has gotten so long,” you whisper, running your fingertips along his scalp. you gently brush a lick of his hair behind his ear and push his bangs back simultaneously, both of your hands cradling his head. he loves it.

copia hums appreciatively, “and how do you like it, mia cara?” he can’t help but send a teasing smile your way.

“so much, I’ve yearned for it.” you reply, biting the tip of your tongue to hide a giggle.

“yearn… eh?” copia muses, “is yearning when I saw your face in every crowd? saw you in every reflection?”

you bend your knees to bring him closer, propping your feet up on the coffee table. “I am so in love with you. I don’t think I could spend another day without you.”

copia’s lips move expertly with yours before they move around his gentle, ardent words. “good thing you won’t have to anymore.”

#cardinal copia #the band ghost #copia #papa emeritus iv #ghost #cardinal copia x reader #copia my beloved #ghost bc #papa emeritus iv x reader #I’m so love sick for him #so proud of impera #I can’t wait until copia is alive and well on the 7th #Littlle Drabble I am writing before a nap #first thing I’ve written in a while #how do I get out of survival mode #and in to creative mode #mariana writes

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ivymarquis · 10 months

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Today’s mood is being a young single woman at a bar and getting targeted by an older couple who are unicorn hunting.

The wife is sitting on the sidelines while her husband is being waaaaay too pushy and domineering of your time. You’ve told them already you’re waiting for your boyfriend, and of course he wants to keep you company until he can meet the lucky young man.

Being single- there is no boyfriend. So you think fast, eyes scanning across the bar until you see someone who looks approachable enough to along with your ploy.

Like a dog slipping her collar you pull yourself away from the bartop and from the arm with a too-tight grip on you and make a beeline to the man you’ve picked to hopefully be your savior.

Doesn’t matter that there’s 3 other men behind him. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

And God bless this man he doesn’t miss a beat. A soft smile crosses his features like he’s genuinely happy to see you, an arm resting across your shoulders which coming from the married man at the bar had made you feel threatened and trapped. With him you feel safe. The familiarity of the gesture will hopefully sell the idea to the couple at the bar that you’re spoken for.

“Who am I pretending for, luv?” His eyes are scanning the crowd- probably expecting some lone man around your age to be watching like a hawk. There’s none that he can see, only to cough in surprise when you point out the couple.

He raises his fingers in a cocky acknowledgment to the couple. Fuck off, she’s mine.

“You need someone to walk you to your car, luv? Or just waiting them out?”

You hadn’t planned on leaving just yet. The idea of being ran out of here annoys you.

So what had intended to be one more drink turns into you unwittingly ending up at a table with your hero- Kyle- and his group of friends.

And showing your gratitude later by giving him the best head of his life

Also it’ll be so cute at some point he asks why out of everyone at the bar he was the one you picked to go up to and you tell him you felt safe when you saw him.

#joke’s on y’all this one has actually been on the wip list for a while this is just the first time Ive written about it #this was threatening to go from blurb to drabble territory and we don’t want that just yet #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #imma make it a full thing swearsiez realzies #my writing

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no-less-than-a-god · 2 months

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Narinder does not watch the Lamb all of the time. There are times he looks away, to keep eyes on the souls that float far above him or to watch his two disciples below him, or when there’s no need to watch, such as when the Lamb chooses to sometimes rest.

It’s during one of these moments, one of rest, that Narinder is not watching the Lamb when he is suddenly surprised by their presence. He’d been observing Baal and Aym attempt to play a game the Lamb had taught them—one involving lines, crosses, and circles drawn into the ethereal floor beneath them all with their staffs—when a tug in his chest and the sound of the pentagram activating in the distance snapped his attention before him.

“Lamb.” Narinder speaks, his surprise getting the better of him. If his face hadn’t been covered by a veil when he was shackled, he’s sure Baal and Aym would have noticed his eyes widening ever-so-slightly before their heads whipped to the pentagram and they scrambled to stand in their proper places.

The Lamb is silent as they make their approach towards Narinder. Their pace is not hurried, but purposeful; they’re halfway to Narinder before he can finally sense their cause of demise this time.

A swift blade to the heart. The Lamb hadn’t suffered.

Narinder’s eyes narrow under his veil. Had a follower dissented, and stabbed their leader? If so, they're acting very casual about it, as if an act of betrayal hadn't just occurred.

“Your rest has been interrupted,” Narinder comments. The Lamb has gotten close enough to stand between Baal and Aym, looking up at their god.

“I shall be alright,” is the Lamb’s reply. Quiet anger courses through The One Who Waits; not at the Lamb, but at the follower who had stabbed them. Who murdered his vessel.

“Tell me, Vessel, do you know which of your flock has betrayed you tonight?” His voice rumbles deep as he speaks. “What will you do in revenge for such dissention?”

The Lamb smooths a hand over their cloaked chest, where the blade had pierced them. They bow their head slightly before replying, “You've misunderstood. No follower of mine has slain me tonight.”

“Then you know the identity of the one who held the knife? Tell me, Lamb, who has taken this life from you?”

“It was my own hand that guided the blade to my heart.”

Narinder sank closer to the floor of the ethereal plane, closer to his vessel. He eyed them from beneath his veil curiously, attentively.

“Life is a precious thing to hold onto, even while I have the power to resurrect you. Why did you take your own blade to yourself?”

“It gets lonely,” the Lamb admits, and steps closer to their god, “down there, surrounded by nobody else who understands. I like it here, I like that you're here; am I not allowed to simply wish to occupy the same space as you for a while?”

Companionship. The Lamb has sought out death to seek contact with the god of death.

Narinder drops a single hand to the floor, fingers flexing slightly in a wordless gesture, and the Lamb clambers on. They are small in his hand, a size that Narinder could easily crush between claws.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he raises his hand up, ducking it under his veil, and brings the Lamb level with his face.

The Lamb is treated with three red eyes turned up with rapture, and a mouth splitting into a grin that shows off rows of sharp, pointed teeth. There is no fear evident in the Lamb, even with how close they are to sure weapons of annihilation.

All four entities within the ethereal plan are surprised when they hear a deep, bassy rumble erupt around them. It takes many moments for all of them, Narinder included, to realize the source of the sound comes from the God himself. He’s purring, and he can’t remember the last time he'd done so.

Narinder speaks from around the rumbling in his throat. “You are always welcome here,” he promises his vessel. “If it is companionship you seek, as your god I will provide.”

The Lamb is smiling at the sound, despite the volume of it being enough to echo greatly around them.

#cotl #cult of the lamb #narilamb #drabbling ichor #loredump #the first time the lamb seeks death to spend time with narinder... it will not be the last #vesselhood lore yippee!!#a treat while I'm working on my harvest fic

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puppetmaster13u · 7 months

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Oh boi even more of One au in like 3 hours lol

I like to think that like how in @phoenixcatch7's Doll au there's gas versions of like cures and such in the batfam's gas masks since they don't need to breath when possessing the puppets right? I like to think there's an organic version of that with the meat puppet bodies, at least with Bruce, where the plates on his neck opens up into vents of sorts, pictured here with a few spikes removed for visibility reasons.

This gas could be some cures for like Joker venom & Fear gas and such, or it could also be sedatives, paralytics, could even vary between each member. (For example in the Cryptidverse Steph has Anesthetics on her claws, Jason has reflective powder that mimics embers/sparks, Cass has paralytics, etc). Honestly I am just brainstorming so this could definitely change lmao

I do like to think they start developing their own venom though, gotta' have those fangs & tusks for some reason lol

#meat marionette au #batman au #cryptid batman #cryptid batfam #body horror #batman #dcu #dc #Sorry Phoenix if I am spamming you lol #Honestly I feel like Bruce & Kane are the only ones with like big-ish tusks as though to show they're the fully grown ones of the group #Batwoman has set up shop in Bludhaven while Bruce usually sticks to Gotham me thinks but they still help each other out because family <3 #God I want to ramble about their language and body language and stuff so bad lol I love world building #I also totally haven't been writing a drabble for this for the past hour lmao #The caves have a favorite mortal and It's definitely Bruce lol #Okay but now I am thinking of how Bruce & Clark could meet the first time lol #Bruce can definitely sneak up on Clark if he wants to and it's probably terrifying lol #Something I will have to think about for later I suppose #What are the tunnels? Fuck if I know lol #The drabble totally isn't from Its pov tho lol (definitely not)#Tumblr don't eat my tags 2023 #Bruce definitely freaks out the first time he sees his second body #Not helped by the fact the first time he sees it he is piloting it and emerging from a flesh wall #All stumbly like a newborn deer (not helped by long limbs and body all differently proportioned & more limbs lol)#The secondary body's face is something between a human and an animal's muzzle #Dick deserves electric organs like an electric eel so he can shock people #Y'know what Cass deserves pitch black flesh & organs- like I am talking vantablack barely lets in any light black #Bruce is probably more wary about taking in kids what with the whole eldritch thing beneath the streets but really what choice does he have #All of them were already trying to do vigilante work & they'll end up killed if he doesn't help them :/#He loves them but he *really* wishes the tunnels didn't take a liking to them as well because they're already traumatized enough #He wishes it didn't call to them like it did to him so long ago

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sysig · 5 months

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Delusions (Patreon)

"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.

"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."

Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.

Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.

"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.

"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?

"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"

Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.

"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.

No, not angry.

Betrayed.

He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.

"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"

Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.

"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.

"Sir, I didn't-"

"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."

#Doodles #SCII #Helix #ZEX #Dexter Favin #And a drabble-fic under the cut #I ended up writing that the night after I read - I was a bit too inspired while busy so it's a little on the unfocused side haha #I would've cleaned it but I worry it wouldn't make it out of that stage! Please enjoy it for now <3 #This set is mostly periphery ideas - inspired by events rather than directly shown ♪ I suppose the first two kinda count tho #But they're more directly of the little scene I wrote ouò Poor ZEX </3 #And Dex! He's usually so capable! But he's stretching himself so thin ahh it's hard to watch in the best way #Of course he doesn't want to give ''Max'' over to just anyone - anyone at all really - both of their trusts have bottomed out #But how much could he reasonably care for him in that state? When he's still being actively haunted and most importantly - Not Max #He needs helps he needs support he needs to sleep and shower but a second with his eyes off Max and - then what? He'll immolate from fear #It's hard to imagine him crying but pushed to this extreme? To the thought of losing Max utterly and completely? Hhhhh #I do also just love him being possessive even outside of how terrible the situation is - he's always had his glimpses but this situation #Brings out the worst in him <3 In terrible ways #Really his method is just setting ''Max'' up nearby and prompting him over the sound of the shower like that's not nerve-wracking at all #Like he already doesn't answer half the time if that #As for the mini fic I was really interested in Dex's line about indulging ''Max's'' delusions #Apart from the fact that they're not delusions - not that anyone believes him outside of the Institute - what it means to indulge is weird #I saw one example of how to handle delusions that stuck with me - how not to deny them outright while also not reinforcing them #Since it's not actually helpful to be told ''That isn't Really happening to you'' when to you - to ZEX - it really is! How invalidating #And so rather to take the approach of ''I don't see/feel/hear what you are - I can't find any evidence of it myself'' and extrapolating #Dex taking the approach of ''What reality are you experiencing right now?'' and trying to build from there!#Unfortunately ZEX has already been treated like....well like all that - he's not in the mood for games even well-intentioned ones #He /knows/ he's in a human body. He can feel that and see that and understands that. It doesn't change who - what he /is/#The idea of a completely broken ZEX is so sad to me :( He's so strong and prideful and vivacious - Max really is another him </3 #It's not the same but he was saved from death! To fall into torture... But even despite that I want to see him succeed! As much as he can #Even in that small and shaking way I want to see him be hateful and spiteful - angry. Powerful <3 Fighting ♥

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good-beanswrites · 1 month

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An 0309 drabble for an anon ask I got a bit ago :) Thank you for being patient, I really enjoyed writing this!! It's actually a little moment I've wanted to write since I started Milgram fic, but never got around to it. (I mention his injured eye, but don't actually describe anything)

“Stop moving around so much.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I mean it. You’ll make things worse.”

Mikoto watched as the intensity in Fuuta’s gaze flickered between fire and fear.

He had a doctor’s kit laid out on his lap. Recently, Shidou had his hands full with Mahiru’s treatments and having intense conversations with Haruka, so Mikoto wanted to give him a break. With none of the injuries actually healing as they should, the prisoners were caught in an endless loop of changing bandages and checking for complications.

Shidou was grateful for the help. Many of the others tolerated Fuuta in the same way they spent only the necessary time around Mikoto. They smiled and placated him, acting like he’d gone mad all of the sudden. Whatever was making the others avoid the two of them, it drew the pair together. Mikoto was finding he enjoyed Fuuta’s company. Something about him was rather… charming.

“Me? You’re the asshole that will make things worse. You’re no doctor! Fuck you.”

Eh, maybe he had gone mad.

He took comfort, at least, in the knowledge that Fuuta was growing more comfortable with him. He sure had a special way of showing it, but Mikoto didn’t brag about being a people-person for nothing – he picked up on the way Fuuta sought him out during the day, pretending to be involved in his own activities. The way he struck up a conversation, then acted as if it had been Mikoto’s idea to come over and bother him.

Therefore it was exciting, though not surprising, when Fuuta allowed Mikoto to help treat his injuries. They had only done it a few times, but today brought a whole new challenge.

“I’m not performing surgery or anything. Shidou said it just needs some basic disinfecting.” He flashed his usual grin. “I have a steady hand – I’m a photographer, you know.”

Aside from Shidou, Fuuta hadn’t allowed a single person to look under his eyepatch.

He remained unamused by Mikoto’s smile. For better or worse, he could always tell when it was forced. “It’s not like I have any proof of that. You could be awful at it, for all I know.”

“First chance I get, I’ll request a camera and prove it. Want me to take a picture of you first?”

“If you haven’t already messed up my face…” Fuuta’s focus was glued to the hand carefully reaching towards him.

Mikoto pouted his lips. “Shidou trusted me enough with this. And you must have, because you agreed earlier. So If it’s not about me… You’re not scared, are you?”

There were some things that Fuuta didn’t stop to see through. He sputtered in surprise. “Hell no!” He lifted his chin, finally taking his attention off Mikoto’s hands. He stared defiantly. “I can take it.”

Mikoto felt a bit guilty for resorting to foul play. But not that guilty. “Good. Now hold still...”

He got right to it. One hand held ginger hair out of the way, while the other pinched the corner of the eyepatch. Fuuta’s good eye darted nervously around the room, avoiding the other's close-leaning face. Mikoto peeled it away swiftly, gently

As a horror movie buff, the injury didn’t faze him in the slightest. As someone who’d grown close to Fuuta recently, he felt a wave of anguish at the sight.

Fuuta squirmed. “It’s nasty, isn’t it…”

Mikoto reached down for some supplies. He considered mustering up a smile and saying there was no need to worry so much, but it would have been pointless. Times like these, it was kind of a relief when someone else could see right through him for a change.

“It looks like it hurts.”

“Tch, I don’t need any pity from you.”

“I was going to say, you hide it well. You’re tougher than the warden gives you credit for.”

His cheeks flushed red. “I – I don’t need any flattery from you either!”

“Don’t need anything from anybody, huh?”

Before he could come up with a retort, he hissed through his teeth in pain.

“Ah, sorry.” Mikoto immediately retracted his hand from where it had been dabbing alcohol onto the injury.

Steeling his expression, he muttered, “it’s fine.”

Mikoto tried again. He made sure to move with even more steadiness, his face drawn up in concentration. He saw Fuuta’s features flinch when he touched him, but he stayed still. The two were silent, now, as Mikoto worked. Leaning his face so close made the short task feel much longer. The reddening in his cheeks didn't subside.

He expected Fuuta to snatch the fresh eyepatch away the moment he unwrapped it – he was shocked that Fuuta let him adjust it into place without a word.

“Alright. You’re all set.” He started packing up the kit.

“Listen, don’t tell the others. About my eye.”

Mikoto squinted. He gestured to the right side of his face. “I hate to break it to you, but the big patch kinda gives you away.”

“You idiot! I just mean, don’t tell them what it looks like.” He pulled his hood down over his hair. “I don’t need everyone trying to steal a look at it like I’m some sort of freakshow.”

“Hey, of course.” Mikoto gave him a smile, the kind they both knew was genuine. “I’ve got you.”

Fuuta nodded. He turned his face away, his fingers lingering over where Mikoto’s had just been. “... And… thanks.”

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama #mikoto kayano #0309 #thank you so much for the request woo!!!#lmao it leans more 'serious intimate' than 'sappy romantic' - i hope thats okay #and yeah! i was actually planning to have a chapter in thermoregulation where yuno treated his eye #but every way i envisioned it wouldnt fit right with the tone of the whole thing #so ive been considering other characters and mikoto works So Well -- i was really glad to finally sit and write it out with him!!#its just... having someone as paranoid and ashamed as fuuta actually letting someone close enough to see/touch his most vulnerable injury..#it Gets me man 😭😭😭#and mikoto is also showing a very open side of himself - he has someone who trusts him despite everything thats going on with him/john #someone he doesnt need to preform for -- someone who truly trusts him #;--;#im torn between picturing the prisoners staying away from mikoto t2 or him self isolating while they all still really like hanging out #i went with the first option here but it changes depending on the fic LOL #anyway i hope you enjoyed!!!!#the two start out sitting really far apart and awkward but by the end of t2 with mikoto treating him regularly they start sitting like that #meme where the girl is putting on the others makeup LOL #drabbles #what if i keep procrastinating on school writing and i just write milgram fic forever and ever huh

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popponn · 3 months

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a cushion, two continents away. [isagi yoichi x reader]

note: i wrote this in one sitting out of need. a loving yoichi is a warm thought and while this isn't how i imagined the 'first fit of madness in a while' would go, please do know it is one. yoichi is considerate, but yoichi likes affection. that's the thought. warning: none, isagi is full of love and wants to be clingy, post canon pro player au, reader's gender unspecified.

“Please motivate me,” you say to the screen. Isagi tries his best not to ask why you are burying your face in your hands instead of greeting him with a smile. His hunch tells him you might cry if he does that. “Please motivate me, or I might cry.”

Isagi really tries his best not to follow his instinct to ask are you okay there and then. With a smile he hopes doesn’t come out as an exact grimace, he laughs and makes a silent note to order you your favorite drink online later. Paying mind to his sleeping teammates, he whispers, “I don’t know what’s happening here, but hang in there, okay?”

As if being cued by his voice, you finally peek at his face. Even with only part of your face unhidden by your palms, Isagi notices that you are making a face at something—which is probably whatever your workload is now and the fact that he is two continents away from you.

“Why are you away?” you ask, a mix of pout and annoyance haunting your voice, “I want to work while sitting in your lap. I want a back hug. I want a hug. I want you here.”

“Please don’t turn me into a cushion,” Isagi says, even though the two of you know that he will do it happily and readily. Complete with his head on your shoulder, peering at your laptop. Probably, also while sharing warm drinks with you.

Good—Isagi holds back a groan. Now he wants to go home too.

Which shouldn’t be impossible. The match is done, Bachira and Rin are asleep so they can’t snitch, maybe if he runs to the airport now—

“I’m going to sound like a hypocrite. And also this is painful for me to say,” you interrupt his train of thought with a mock of a strict expression, “but please don’t.”

Isagi chews the inside of his cheek, “…but. It’s—”

“I’m not listening to you,” you cut off, despite obviously trying to hold back a smile. But, as quick as that pretty expression of yours comes, Isagi doesn’t get much time to admire it. You soon turn away to somewhere off-screen, facing what seems to be your work with a sigh. “…now, I think I have to go.”

Looking at you and hearing the imminent farewell, Isagi wants to make you stay more than anything. Having a simple celebration between you and him, even through a video call, after a win sounds like heaven. But of course, unfortunately, he is mature enough to know asking that from you is impossible for now.

But, Isagi is self-aware. He is egoistic and stubborn when he wants something. So, he asks, “Can we stay on call? I will be good.”

“…be good, huh?” you parrot his wording. A light chuckle comes out just barely from you.

“You know what I mean,” Isagi shifts on his bed. Lying on his side while hugging his pillow to his body, pretending it’s you. He buries his face into the plush cotton. God—he really wishes this pillow was you now.

Never once did his eyes leave you. He watches as you stay silent, considering for a moment. Then, finally, after a few wordless moments, you finally glance back to him, “…you know I can’t deny that puppy look, right?”

“Stop calling it puppy look,” Isagi denies. He knows he is wearing the expression you often call ‘pouting’.

To that, you finally laugh out loud. For a moment you truly look like there is no burden on you and Isagi considers going on with the pointless debate if he could keep that good look on you forever. Sadly, he knows you should work the moment you fully turn your face to the side. The clicking sounds of keyboards and mouse clicks replace your voice.

“Sure, sure, I will,” you say. Isagi merely hums as he looks at you.

He really should be a good boyfriend and pretend he is your sitting cushion right now.

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scented-morker · 1 year

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Meet Cutes (or uglies) with Enha

stranger enha x f!reader, fluff, lots of different lengths, not proof read

Hee

It was one of the first days that it had really felt like fall, low seventies and no humidity

So you were taking a walk (way to get those steps in icon) to celebrate being able to go outside without melting onto the sidewalk

Eventually you hit one side street that must have been ahead of all the rest because there were already brown leaves scattered all across the sidewalk

Upon further inspection, you realized just how crunchy the leaves were… which obviously set you off on a leaf crunching spree, looking at your feet to find the biggest, crunchiest looking leaves

The sounds were happily itching your brain until you rammed straight into someone, having been too focused on your feet to notice Heeseung walking straight at you

You profusely apologize, but he just thinks it’s cute— he asks the expert to show him which leaves are crunchy so he can join you

Jay

You hated going places by yourself, being alone always felt awkward and you ended up staring at your phone the whole time trying to look busy

So you challenged yourself to go out alone and not look at your phone— personal growth and such

Which leads you to a dressing room, the little black dress you tried in looking very not little as it gapes open on your back

If only you had brought literally anyone with you to zip you up

But no, you just had to make yourself a more rounded person smh

But Jay being the Angel that he is notices your pouting in the mirror and the way you continuously wriggle to try and reach the zipper behind you

(If you’ve ever had to do this ik yk what I mean 😭 that’s mega embarrassing for us)

So, ever the gentleman, he approaches and asks if you want help.

Normally you’d be like ew no creep, but he’s really pretty and looks nice and you really wanna see what the dress looks like, so you give him permission

No way he even brushes your back, mans is mega respectful with his hands

He steps back once you’re all zipped up and watches as you try and decide how you feel about it

“It looks good.”

You hadn’t realized he was still there, but you meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, immediately going red and looking away when he says his next words.

“Maybe you can wear it, say, this Friday night? 7?”

Jake

Stupid awkward wedding receptions (ik weddings are different in different cultures so I’m sorry for whitewashing this headcanon, toss the bouquet and garter are probably very USA)

Some random girl from your work was getting married, and she invited the whole office.

Obviously you weren’t going to be rude (or pass up free food) so you put on one of your old dresses and sat through the whole hour long ceremony

Then came the part you were actually waiting for: the reception 🎉🎉

All the fun stuff happens, you get free food and drinks and the couple does their first dance (which you admit was cute even if she’s your least favorite coworker)

And then you’re getting drug onto the floor because she’s about to toss the bouquet and knows you’re painfully single

You swear she was aiming right at you, because you didn’t even move— hoping other girls would be risking it all for the daisies

But OF COURSE it ends up in your hands, and you’re forced to sit awkwardly at the side while her husband does the same thing with her garter

You didn’t expect the guys to try too hard, but Jake did not come to play, especially after seeing the pretty girl that caught the bouquet

So he knocks Jay over to catch the small piece of cloth, and then gets to dance with you ( W for Jake)

The song is good, just fast enough that it doesn’t feel overly romantic, but slow enough that you two end up slow dancing

At first you were terrified that it would be awkward, but Jake is cute and talkative and you don’t even realize it when the song is over.

“How about another one?”

Sunghoon

Listen, you knew studying wasn’t your thing.

But a tiny part in your brain thought for see if you went to a cute little cafe and got a coffee , your frontal lobe would be forced to do its job

Which apparently, everyone else at your school also thought. Because when you get to the coffeehouse it’s packed.

Students everywhere, coffees and computers set up and not a single free table.

There’s only one spot that includes a free seat and is close enough to an outlet because you forgot to charge your laptop again

And it’s right across from Sunghoon, an intimidatingly handsome guy your age who looks to have just gotten to the shop as well

You approach him, quietly asking if you can take the chair across from him— to which he doesn’t even look up, just nods his head and continues writing

So flash forward, you’ve ordered your coffee and are midway through the first chapter of your reading when the waiter brings the cup over

You mumble a thank you, reaching out to grab it without looking up

You take a sip, immediately shooting your eyes away from the text to see the cup in your hand, a deep black color

You make eye contact with the boy across from you, who’s trying to hold in a laugh

“I think you grabbed the wrong drink”

You look back down at the cup, embarrassed out of your mind

“I’m so sorry, I’ll buy you a new one”

You stand up and he quickly grabs your wrist. “Do you even know what it is?”

“Based off of what it tasted like, I was gonna order you a large battery acid latte”

He just shakes his head, letting out an airy chuckle before standing up and going with you to the counter

“I’m glad I was able to introduce you to real coffee.”

Cue the fighting about the best drinks and health benefits of drinking battery acid vs straight sugar, which leads to no homework getting done and a date at the same place the next day

Sunoo

You were out doing some research for your school assignment

Somehow your teacher decided it would be smart to make her students interview strangers to collect data

“Yes, hello, do you know anything about space?”

Most of the people you’d asked were boring, giving you the bare minimum (except the one lady who talked for twenty minutes and the old man who yelled at you )

Until you stopped Sunoo, appearing excitedly in front of him and asking if he knew the difference between a comet and an asteroid

You were so cute, and he wanted to impress you so bad ‼️

So he stood there for a while, going “it’s right on the tip of my tongue, I’m not stupid, I swear I know it!” (He did not know it)

Eventually you move on, continuing to ask him more opinion based questions before deciding to be bold because when else would you ever see the extremely cute guy again

“Last question: are you single?”

Homeboy was a tomato, nervous giggling and all.

“I am for now…are you busy after this?”

Jungwon

You hated your best friend.

Okay not really, she was your best friend— but right now you hated her

There was no hesitation in your mind when she asked you to come to her Winter Formal dance— hee boyfriend dumped her the week before and she needed a last minute date

So there you were, at a school you’ve never been to before in your nicest dress while loud pop music blares into your ears

The only issue was that suddenly your friends ex had decided he wanted her back, and now you were stuck third wheeling as they danced a little too close to each other for your comfort

Which was bad enough when a fun song was on, but when the dj started a love song, sending it out to “all the lovers out there” that was your last straw

You ignore their kissing as you try to navigate between all the dancing couples to get to a table to sit at until either the song was over or you called your mom to rescue you

Unfortunately for you, the floor was very crowded, and you ended up bumping into someone

When you turned to apologize, you came face to face with the cutest boy you’ve ever seen, his dimples flashing as he gave you a reassuring smile “don’t worry about it, are you okay?”

You nod your head, still too enamored to respond, but soon his friends start bumping him, and you’re back to looking for an escape, convinced they all think your weird

Instead, the boy looks at his feet, avoiding your eyes as he says “would you maybe want to dance? I think you’re really pretty.”

You stare blankly for a minute, to which he quickly adds “unless you’re here with someone I’m sorry for asking,” but you quickly cut him off, offering him your hand

“I’d love to!”

And your best friend was once again your favorite person because you got to dance with Jungwon all night

Riki

Listen, you’re not a child anymore so you’re totally allowed to go to the grocery store at any time that you want

Which includes ten pm(22:00)

So there you were, standing in the candy aisle, contemplating if you really needed the family sized bag of Sour Patch Kids

When this giant comes running through the aisle next to you

You collide, and he’s at least nice enough to help you up, giving you his hand and making sure you’re stable again before tearing off in the opposite direction

He turns back almost as fast as he left, running up to you and staring into your eyes

“Will you cover me up with toilet paper?”

You stare at him in bewilderment. You were worried about meeting crazy people this late at night, but the seven foot tall kid your age was not the kind of evil you were picturing

“I’m sorry what?”

“The next aisle over is toilet paper and stuff and me and my friends are playing hide and seek. If I crawl on the shelf can you cover me back up?”

You stare for another moment, realizing how childish this is, but you quickly realize that you basically are children and say yes

You’ve barely hidden Riki from sight by the time another boy is racing past you, quickly double taking when he sees you standing there

You worry he’s got you figured out, you knew it was unrealistic for you to be thinking so hard about toilet paper brands, but the boy just stands next to you.

“Hi, I’m Jake”

“Yn” you respond, confused why he’s speaking to you if he didn’t know you helped his friend

It isn’t until a minute later when he asks for your number that you realize he was trying to flirt with you

Although it seems to be the same time Riki does, because suddenly there’s toilet paper flying off the shelves and he’s yelling at his hyung.

You try not to laugh at Jake’s squeal when Riki popped out, but soon they’re both running out of the aisle, Riki yelling back to you

“I’ll be back for your number, just give me one second to murder my hyung”

#first real post in a while #some are eh but they were fun to write!!#enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen x you #enhypen jay scenarios #enhypen heeseung scenarios #enhypen sunghoon scenarios #enhypen jake scenarios #enhypen sunoo scenario #enhypen jungwon scenarios #enhypen niki scenarios

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yuu-kumeii · 10 months

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"Kitaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—"

Your voice drawls out his name in a long whine, distress evident from the way you graciously wailed through the speaker of his phone.

"What is it, love?" He asks on the other side, seeming a lot more put together than you are. No surprise there, Kita always seems to have everything under control.

"I can't studyyyyyy, everything is so distracting and it's so hot today! I can't do this," You cry, accompanied by loud thud of your hand hitting your bed, telling Kita more than he needs to know about your current state.

With finals right around the corner, it's not surprising that you and Kita haven't been going out as much. Though you tend to start studying a day before the exams —which only happened because you just forget how to study properly—, your very diligent boyfriend starts a week before. Meaning that while you're free for the week, Kita is not and clearly it had an effect on you. Because instead of studying like a responsible person, you're getting distracted by everything that never bothered you before.

But Kita isn't phased in the slightest, "And your first thought was to call me?" He lets out an amused sigh with a hidden but endeared smile, your first thought has always been to call him first.

Whether it be to tell him about this super amazing thing you saw or to proudly announce that you bragged about him to your friends —for the 50th time and still counting—. Maybe that's why he's always so eager to come at your beck and call, it's one of the ways he can repay you.

"Yeah so..!? I'm not allowed to tell my own boyfriend about my struggles?" You say back, lifting your head to properly face the device in your hands. Knowing that he can't see your little bitter pout but it doesn't take away from the effect you had on him, even through the screen.

Kita lets out a soft sigh, filled with amusement. It's so easy to fluster you whenever you get like this, always asking for him and denying any semblance of clinginess when questioned.

"Well, since you told me all about your hardships, why don't I help ya?" His suggestion immediately brightens your mood, not because it would help you study. But because it would help your boredom and you just like his company in general, such devious intentions you have there indeed.

"Really!? Yes please help me!" You drawl excitedly, enthusiasm already oozing through the screen.

"Good, because I'm already outside"

Huh.

He's.

What.

Immediately breaking into a mad dash downstairs towards the front door, flinging it open to reveal your boyfriend in all his average glory. Phone still pressed to his ear much like yours, his smile softens at your shock.

"Hi," His voice pierces through your clouded head, making you fumble a bit at his abrupt greeting.

"Hi...." The only thing you could dare to say back.

Your breath hitched after staring for a good second, eyes already showing your adoration for him the longer they linger. Everything stopped and took a step back, Kita only looks on with genuine uncertainty at your gaze.

That is until you suddenly tackle him with all your might, almost making both of you —and the totebag he had— topple over in a pile. Thankfully Kita was used to it enough so he barely moved an inch, even though a little more force would've tipped him over. It's the volleyball captain's experience at work there. You couldn't contain yourself once you let it out, squeals of delight escape from you.

Legs locked on his hips, face deep into the crook of his neck. You were softlocked on him and he can't do anything about other than supporting you with an arm under your bum, freeing the other one to close your front door.

Thank goodness your neighborhood was rather empty that day because if anyone you knew saw, both of you would be in for a nightmare of teasing. Not that it was a bad thing, people knowing you're dating, it's just a certain group that you'd rather keep in the dark. Because as much as you love them, they'll be even more insufferable when they have something to use against you.

But that's besides the point, Kita is finally with you in these trying times and you couldn't be happier. Still locked onto him koala style as he made his way upstairs and into your room, making sure to lock your door before anything.

Finally making it to your room where he immediately attempts to dump you on your bed, gently of course he can't afford to lose his perfect boyfriend award now can he? Not that he knows about it... Yet.

He quickly takes out a few textbooks from his bag, "Any subjects you're really struggling with?" Kita asks, rummaging through his bag for some notebooks.

"...Everything...? I mean— except japanese literature of course!" You quickly defend yourself when Kita's expression shows that he was not amused, "...But everything else is kinda hard..." You finish, fiddling your thumbs in shame for your academic catastrophe.

"You're in luck, because I happen to bring books on all the subjects we have this year, " Kita turns to you, lifting up a notebook with the words 'Test pointers' neatly written on it.

"Something tells me you wrote that just in case I needed help..." You trail off, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

"Close, it's actually for Miya" Kita sighs, silent disappointment just oozing out of him.

"JUST Miya? Like it's for Atsumu right?"

Kita nods, satisfying your sudden curiosity. But then, a sudden thought pops into your head.

"Does this mean you think I'm as hopeless as Atsumu in terms of studying?" You stare down at your hands, like someone whose world view was shattered before their eyes. This realisation has opened your eyes to the reality of the logical chances at your scores being as good as you want them to be. Was every good score just pure luck? Was it all—

THUD—

"A—"

Something hit the top of your head gently, stopping your train of thought. Looking up, you see a rolled up notebook resting on the crown of your head. Your boyfriend being the culprit and his face is DEFINITELY not amused.

"Stop your panickin', you know that's not true"

"How did you know... "

"It was written all over your face, sweetheart" A smile making its way onto Kita's face, oh so he is amused.

But the fun always has to end just when it's getting good, you did ask for some study help and you're gonna get it (unfortunately with the study part). It might as well be the end of you too.

"Now, what do you wanna start with first?" Kita says, eyes already looking through the notebook for practice questions. His switch clearly catches you off guard judging by your dumbfounded expression.

"Mmmmath...??" You squint your eyes as you answer him, looking away to avoid his gaze at your unsure answer. You just don't want to start studying.

"Alright, then we'll start with integral calculus then" Your boyfriend moves to take out a very thick textbook out, it's so thick it makes you nervous despite the fact that you also have that book. Speaking of which, isn't that book in your drawer? Or did you leave it in your locker? Actually nevermind, you have to focus.

Kita hands you a pen and paper, "You ready?" He asks you, eyes both stern and reassuring.

You quickly take them, setting it down on the foldable table you had laying on your bed, "I think I am" Great answer, you sounded so sure of yourself, [Y/N].

This is gonna be one long study session, but that's ok. Kita didn't mind the 4 other times you called him asking for help this week, you'll be just fine.

#「★ It's showtime! ★」#haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #shinsuke kita x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyu x female reader #kita x reader #kita fluff #This has been in my notes for some time now #I started this during my exams which was well over a month ago omg 😭#While we're here another one of my friends agreed to be a beta reader :D #I also got my first rq so I'll start doing that when I get the inspiration bc I alr have the flow all figured out #I want Kita to help me remember how to study 🥺

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medusanova · 11 months

Text

Anything That Can Go Wrong

For my fellow rivusa shipper, @fitztragedy xx

When Musa learns that Riven is the ‘mentor’ assigned to improve her hand-to-hand combat skills -- and help her pass the only class she has left to complete her third year specialist courses -- she begins to wonder if Murphy’s Law should be amended from ‘anything’ always going wrong to ‘anyone’.

Because apparently it isn’t enough they’d both left, well, things awkwardly suspended between them after the spiraling catastrophe that was her second year. He’s also still the only person to know what happened with the scrapers.

Added to that, Riven also happened to be one of only five people in the whole of Alfea that sat at the same desk as her in botany class last term, leaving her to battle his soil remnants, eraser shavings, seat warmth, and general presence for an entire hour everyday. And, worst of all, he’s still the only person who’s ever come close to understanding the very heart of her.

And now? Well, now she has an entire month to make a fool of herself in front of her biggest rival on the training pitch. All in the name of making it to her fourth and final year.

Their meeting time is set for an hour before dusk every other evening on the patch of grounds near the barrier. On her first day, Riven arrives as she’s securing her fighting gloves around her wrists. He quietly sets up the training mat and stands in wait, patient as can be.

“Hey,“ she greets. She isn’t going to let him of all people show her up in decency.

“Muse,“ he drawls with a nod. “Why the fuck are you wearing gloves?“

Decency her arse. She barely prevents her eyes from rolling and lifts a brow. “For safety and protection? Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Oh don’t worry ‘bout me, Pixie. I always use protection,” he assures with a growing smirk.

Musa manages to ‘accidentally’ clip a fist against his jaw during their session. She considers it a great start to the month.

She sees him a week later during her free period, which also happens to be his free period (see? Murphy’s Law: Person Edition), when she has the unfortunate idea of spending it outside. She’s walking through the courtyard with her headphones around her neck, ready to settle behind the tree situated furthest away from the main building.

He’s already there, of course, under her favorite willow. Faint traces of cigarette smoke pepper the air as he hunches over his phone, legs sprawled over the comfiest part of the roots. The only reason she doesn’t spontaneously combust is because of the faint purple mark she spots under his right cheek.

He gives her a look when she slowly lowers herself onto the gravelly dirt nearby before going back to his phone. She’s about to put her headphones on when he sighs in exasperation.

“At the risk of being decked in the jaw again-“

“Bet you’re glad I had those gloves on, huh?“

“-I feel the need to ask: why on earth are you sitting over there?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s only one comfy place to sit under this tree.” She digs her phone out of her back pocket, ready to drown him out.

“Musa,” Riven says, sounding vexed, “you look tragic. If you’re really set on this tree for some reason come and sit here.” He scoots over, extending his legs in front of him to give her enough room.

When she continues to stare at him he grins and says, “Promise I won’t bite.”

Riven doesn’t bite. Which is rather unfortunate since instead they talk about music and his upcoming apprenticeship with Silva and he even shares a bite of the cookie he stole from the canteen, which forces her to play her new favorite band out loud for him. In effort to not lose in the decency department, of course.

“What’s your last class?” he asks as she secures her headphones back around her neck.

She stands a moment before he does, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “History. Why?”

“Drop by the bastion when it’s over?” They started back toward the main building. “I’ve been doing weapons training with some of the first-years and they’re having trouble grasping the art of the bo staff. Thought you could share a few pointers.”

“Oh!” She grabs his bicep, barely containing her smile. “Yes, I’d love that. Though, fair warning, I haven’t been using it as much this term to ‘round out my strengths’ so once I join you might have a hard time getting rid of me.”

His lips quirk in the corner, creasing a dimple into the corner of his cheek. “That’s what I was counting on, actually.”

After her class she makes her way to the group of first years wielding staffs haphazardly as their instructor guides them in a commanding, yet reassuring voice. He weaves her into his class seamlessly, allowing her to take over their instruction and demonstrate effective techniques they could use in the future.

Throughout the lesson, she studiously avoids catching a glimpse of Riven and that cheek dimple he’d flashed at her earlier. The one that she couldn’t stop thinking about all day. She can, however, feel him staring at her intently as he wraps class up.

It’s just the two of them left when she finally catches sight of him and Murphy’s Law bites her in the arse again.

He’s clearly been working with students a majority of the day because his shirt sleeves have been rolled to the elbows, revealing an obscene amount of forearm that flexes as he holds two staffs and twirls them in each hand. Perspiration clings steadfastly to his cheeks and forehead and upper lip.

“Since when do you use a staff?” she asks, irritated with how breathless it she sounds, with how his cheek twitches.

She almost doesn’t catch it when he launches at her, too focused on that charming, damned dimple again.

“Watch.”

He comes at her without warning, making her raise her weapon to defend herself. And like they’d rehearsed it, they fall perfectly into a spar. Five minutes. Ten. She doesn’t know how long. They’re twin flames dancing around each other.

It takes her a few moments to realize he’s using her moves.

“Have to say, I’m pretty impressed,” she admits, stopping their spar.

His face, which had been guarded and focused until then, broke into a smile. “Yeah?”

“Who taught you these super impressive and original moves?”

“Some mind fairy,” he quips, laughing at her shout of indignation. “You should see her do these. Mine are a poor imitation.”

She gives him her most serious expression. “Hm. I beg to differ.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I have it on good authority.”

She’s about to turn away, unable to withstand the attraction and electricity buzzing between them when his fingers brush hers and suddenly he grabs the staff, throwing it into a pile with the rest.

“Hey! Give it back.”

“I’ll give it back later. But right now, I’d really like to kiss you.”

She flattens her lips to stop the smile from spreading across her cheeks. “You would, would you?”

“Very much so,” he murmurs.

“I didn’t think you were the type to ask for permission,” she prods.

“Hm, usually I’m not,” he cups her face in his hands, sliding his fingers along her jaw. She barely stops her eyes from closing in pleasure. “Then again, I usually don’t end up with a bruise on my face when I’m with anyone else so let’s call this a special case.”

She smiles and covers said bruise with her palm, placing her thumb over his dimple. “Oh, well I don’t think you have anything to worry about this time around.”

His breath ghosts her lips, mouth so close she could feel his smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I have it on good authority.”

Maybe, she thought, Murphy’s Law knew what it was doing after all.

Happy happy birthday to you, dear Val!!

#a bit of fluff to rot the teeth #also my first rivusa in a long while! hope Im still okay at it lol #happy birthday to my lovely friend xx #rivusa #ftws musa #ftws riven #ftws rivusa #riven x musa #fate ficlet #fate: the winx saga #fate the winx saga #rivusa drabble #my writing #nova writes

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