#my head is swimming with drawing ideas!!

[hydn-jpg]

i just read all the current chapters of id2 and i. i need to lie down

[prettymediocrewizard]

just a quick sketch for tonight, feeling a little stiff but I'm eager to get back to drawing them..

[nerosdayinanime]

beautiful that we get a nice wet beast wednesday to start off mermay, no?

gay little fish but i made him look like a blue sea dragon

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Me when the only one who can make content of my self ship is me

[auryborealis]

please suggest a [pre-timeskip] villain for Yuna to bully

[lifeonmvrs]

is the art process really meant to be static? am i meant to start one piece and finish it? or am i to explore the thoughts trapped inside my little head and release them as soon as they appear, afraid i will lose them if i don’t start on them immediately? did the universe make planets one by one? or did it explode and started one thing and then jumped into the other, not bothered to finish the first one right away?

[deltastorm101]

thunder song.

because this man will absolutely not be granted a break on my watch

[kingkat12]

pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink," 

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here. 

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with. 

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either. 

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality. 

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table. 

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected. 

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room. 

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation. 

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms. 

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude. 

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this.  "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat. 

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. 

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters. 

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra. 

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what. 

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes. 

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss. 

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on. 

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time," 

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

[beneathashadytree]

RESPONSIBLE DADS - LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN X READER

Warnings : autistic!Zayne with his autistic daughter, all of them are girl dads here (except for Xavier who has twins), cuteness-aggression bites, one mention of a gun (no one is harmed!), no mentions of pregnancy (their kids can be interpreted as biological or adopted), this isn’t proof-read, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : so much domestic fluff ☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 2.3K words (holy shit???)

Additional notes : This is a combination of two asks I’d received a month or two ago about the LNDS men as dads while their partner is away, and Zayne in particular struggling with his own autism vs his child’s autism. The brain rot was real in this one😭 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

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“She went down without much of a fuss,” Zayne said, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him as he set his phone on the dresser and got ready for bed over the video call, despite the time zone differences. He’d tried to convince them to just let themself rest instead of staying up past 3 AM, but they’d paid him no mind and insisted on seeing him last thing before bed.

They hummed, watching him slip out of his button up through their screen with a fond gaze. “She is really quiet compared to what I’ve heard about kids her age.”

In the midst of folding his shirt, he paused, a slight crease between his eyebrows. “A little too quiet.” At his concerned face, they straightened up in their seat and leaned in closer to their phone. “I think… she has difficulty connecting with me.”

Their expression was unsure at that. “I don’t know, Zayne. You know she loves you…”

“I do,” was his swift answer, pausing as he pulled his pyjama shirt over his head, then popping out with his hair adorably mussed. “But maybe she feels like I wouldn’t understand her.”

No matter how much he wanted to seem stoic and unaffected by the prospect, there was no hiding the conflicted emotions swimming in his eyes. With an almost sad smile, they asked him, “Even though anyone that sees you two says you have so much in common?”

With a slight flush (was it out of embarrassment as he noticed his messy hair, or was it a twinge of pride in being so connected to his daughter?) he began to apply his minimal skincare that he’d grown used to with them, scarred skin deftly being cared for after years of neglect.

“Autistic girls have different experiences than autistic boys, and their struggles are often overlooked because of these differences. Maybe she subconsciously feels that we can’t bridge that gap.”

Resting their head against their hand, keen eyes bore through him. Zayne would never go unheard as long as they were there. “Do you feel that gap?”

He shrugged, swallowing thickly as he wiped the excess off on his hand towel. “It’s not about me. Studies show that—”

Shaking their head, they sighed a little in affectionate exasperation. “It doesn’t matter what studies say. You’re overthinking it because you want things to be perfect. It’s sweet, just… not very realistic.”

“Mm. I know,” he softly conceded, combing through his hair with a distant glimmer in his eyes. It wasn’t so easy, navigating the emotions and ideas of a child that one already struggled with for decades.

They apologetically smiled at him, then added, “She trusts you with her life because she knows how hard you try to understand her, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes. You give her the space to be able to communicate her needs properly, and that’s why she loves you beyond measure, Zayne.”

He looked away for a few beats, but that was enough time for them to see the misty-eyed wonder in his eyes as he looked at the crooked drawing on his bedside table that she’d made of him holding her in his arms.

His sweet daughter who carried a piece of his heart everywhere she went.

“Then she’s just like you. Very open with her affections.” Huffing out an impossibly tender laugh, he picked up his phone once again and began to climb into bed, his shoulders sagging with relief; like he needed that reassurance to be able to nestle his body into the mattress, cold as it was without his lover. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it from you both…”

“You’re gonna get sick like that, and guess who’ll be cleaning up that mess?” Rafayel frowned, grabbing his daughter by the scruff of her neck and carrying her off before she got her pretty dress drenched by the wave that came crashing down where she’d been standing.

“I can’t get sick from water, daddy, and you know it,” came the reply between giggles, her eyes closed as she relished in the spray of seawater.

With a grunt, he fumbled with his phone a little as he switched to carrying her against his hip with one arm, before turning back to the ongoing video call. “Holding down the fort?” they teasingly asked, arching their brow at their daughter’s windswept hair and inevitably sandy fists curled up against Rafayel’s chest.

“She likes to bully me.” He pouted as he saw two pairs of mischievous eyes looking at him. “No guesses as to where she picked that up from.”

“Are you sure that your six year old daughter—who, mind you, is as cute as a button—is bullying you?”

“Daddy’s just silly, Lemurians are fine with water,” his daughter tried to reason with what she felt was perfectly logical. “He just doesn’t want to wash my clothes again if I get them wet.”

“And why should I?” he indignantly huffed out at the grin that showed she was definitely up to no good. “They’ll get dirty ten seconds later anyways. It’s such a pain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave paint buckets everywhere, then I wouldn’t be on my fourth dress of the day.” Her sassy mutter under her breath was the last straw, and then his instincts took over and—

Chomp!

His teeth nibbled on her round little cheeks, cuteness aggression washing away any possible annoyance (which he’d been feigning, anyways) at the prospect of having to do the laundry all over again. She cried out in protest, though her shreaks of laughter and tighter hold on him gave away the fact that—not unlike his partner—she loved every bit of it.

“You got my face all dirty,” she whined, wiping her cheek against his silk shirt as he walked them back up to the house, much to his dismay.

A chuckle came from his screen, and he flushed under the sweet gaze and the grin he missed so much. “There goes another round in the washing machine. Y’know, Raf, it’s not the smartest move around to wear your favorite clothes around your kid.”

“No kidding,” he grumbled, though there was no bite behind his words. In fact, the tender look in his gem-like eyes only spoke volumes of the adoration he held inside. And maybe his little girl felt it, and decided it would be the perfect moment to press a kiss to where she could reach, right over his heart.

“I don’t mind the paint, daddy. You always make the prettiest things with it, pretty just like you,” she softly said, her tiny index finger toying with the pearlescent button on his blouse.

How much more did she want to squeeze his heart in his chest? He didn’t think he could possibly love her any more than he already did, and yet here she was, proving over and over again that she was the greatest gift he could ever be blessed with after all these years. Walking into their home with sandy feet and salty skin was no longer a dream, but a part of his quaint little life.

“Even if you did ruin my favorite dress and sandals.”

“Papa’s been asleep for three hours now,” she whined in a low voice, her bottom lip jutted out as she looked back at Xavier curled up in a ball in the middle of the unmade bed, legs tangled in the messy sheets. She then turned back to the videocall at hand. “Can’t you wake him up, please?”

Her twin brother popped up from behind her and patted her shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “He’s tired after he played with us. Let’s leave him for a bit.”

With a downcast gaze, she reluctantly nodded and walked out with him, the phone shaking as it was a little too big for her small hands.

Now out in the living room, they could finally raise their voices a little. “Papa cleaned up in the morning too. We probably shouldn’t have asked him to play with us.” He looked a little forlorn as he fiddled with his fingers. Painfully shy, it often showed when he was doubting himself. “We tried to help him after lunch, but—”

“That’s okay, what matters is that you both tried to lend him a hand,” they sweetly reassured them as they smiled through the screen. “And I’m sure if he was too tired to play with you guys, he wouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”

Their daughter gasped, eyes shining in awe at that. “How did you know that Papa was the one who came up with the game?”

“Because he waits for playtime every day, just to spend time with you guys. He’s always so excited, y’know?”

With matching grins (though one was more bashful than the other), the two seven year-olds looked significantly lighter than they had been when the call had first started. The precious moment was soon interrupted by a yawn from behind and a tuft of blonde hair taking up half the background.

“Did you two sneak off to have them all to yourself?” came Xavier’s sleep-addled voice, as he shuffled to pull them onto his lap and readjust the camera. “Cheeky, taking advantage of my nap.”

His daughter laughed, her hands going to loop around his neck. “We weren’t! Promise.”

Her brother reached up to pat down Xavier’s bedhead, gently combing through the soft locks. “You looked tired, Papa. We didn’t want to wake you up with our voices.”

At that, Xavier couldn’t help the upwards quirk of his lips, all the love one could contain threatening to burst through as he held his world between his fingertips—and the best part of him miles away but no further from the heart.

“You’re sweet, just like a certain someone we all miss,” he said, before kissing their foreheads and ruffling their hair, earning little grumbles of protest. Turning his attention back to the videocall, Xavier’s eyes softened. “How long until we can take naps together on the couch again?”

His partner sighed, glancing at the calender on the wall for a moment. “Should be three days. It’s hell without you guys. Maybe I’ve gotten used to waking you all up for an hour in the mornings.”

“Hey, it’s all because of Papa!”

“He does sleep in twice as long as us…”

“And it’s gotten even worse now that you’re gone.”

He chuckled at their sulking feeding off each other, and the collective agreement that things just weren’t the same when his lover wasn’t beside him where they belonged. “Then maybe this should be enough to convince them to hurry back to us so we can get up early every day, hmm?”

“Tell me why Luke and Kieran frantically called me up and told me stop you from endangering our one year old girl. Now.”

“Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” Sylus rolled his eyes at the clearly enthusiastic greeting. “I’ve missed you too. I’m doing good without you for two weeks. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that crap. You’ll live.” Scoffing, they crossed their arms in front of their chest. “Less avoiding the topic, more explaining why your seconds in command are treating you like a ticking bomb.”

“They’re more like lackeys, you know.” A hint of irritation climbed up his spine. Luke and Kieran were more like lost puppies that would be a danger to themselves—and society—if they were left to their whims. That’s all that they were (or so he tried to convince himself).

They waved him off, knowing that his half-assed words weren’t to be taken seriously. “I beg to differ. Now, where is she and what happened?”

Silence settled for a few moments, but then he realized it wasn’t in his favor to not quickly come clean. “She was playing around with me in bed, then seemed fascinated by my left pocket. Said pocket… may or may not have had a gun.”

Leaning in close to the camera, they sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of their nose. “And I’m assuming her magic little fingers found the trigger.”

“More or less yes,” he mumbled under his breath, swallowing thickly as he met their dead-eyed stare. “Had to whip it out and fling it across the room… which may or may not have caused it to slam into the new bookcase and send it toppling.”

It didn’t matter how many people he’d managed to fearlessly face down; pinned underneath his partner’s disapproval, he found himself unable to move. “And that’s where they came in?”

Sylus hummed, flipping the camera and showing them the fractured remains on the floor. “Sorry about that, sweetie. Didn’t have the time to clean it up, what with feeding her and getting her ready for bed.”

“It’s fine, I can build another one.” Their quick dismissal was followed by the furrowing of their eyebrows. “What matters is that you prioritized her safety first.”

“Of course,” he was quick to reply, turning the camera back to himself, before he chuckled a little, sweetness seeping through his voice, “Though I do admit, seeing her have no self-preservation instincts really did make her strikingly similar to you in that regard.”

“Really flattering, hearing you praise her brashness and compare it to mine.” Their expression then grew more serious, and they worried their bottom lip between their teeth. “But… please. Don’t keep any weapons in the same room as her. She’s naturally curious.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmured, having had his dose of sheer panic at her tiny hands. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d been as terrified as he was earlier, his blood turning to ice at the thought of endangering her because of his own fast-paced life.

“I know you’ll be more careful. You’re so good to her—and me,” they quietly mused, a grateful look on their face as they admired him—tired ruby eyes, unruly silver hair, and all.

And Sylus had no control over his own lovesick stare, perfectly content with dancing in their palm for the rest of their lives. After all, he’d found the only two people in this world he could forfeit his life for. There was no shame in admitting it—and so he did, ever so softly. “I suppose you can take pride in knowing that you both have me wrapped around your fingers.”

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[hoshigray]

OMG I LOVE YOU TOJI AND SUKANA BOOKS CAN YOU MAKE A FLUFF ONE LIKE THEM GOING TO THE BEACH OR CUDDLING

⊹ ࣪ ˖ CUDDLE ME BY THE BEACH .ᐟ

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: how about them cuddling BY the beach??! :33

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji + true form! Sukuna x afab/fem! reader - fluff - cuddles! - swimming - pet names (baby, little dove, princess, woman, sweetie) - a beach weekend w/ tojikuna, aww :D - kuna being a teeny bit protective - humor.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

“Ya wanna go back?”

“Hmm?” 

He points to the ocean with his chin. “Fr’ another swim?”

The summer heat was getting worse and worse to avoid, unbearable for the workers within your vicinity as they complained and fanned themselves behind you and your spouses’ backs. You are also a victim, constantly cooping inside your room and removing layers of clothing to let your sweaty body breathe under the increasingly scorching heat.

That’s where you had the brilliant plan to have a bit of a getaway with you and your partners! When they’re not by your side, Sukuna and Toji are busy with matters of their own inside or outside the palace walls. So, you brought up the idea of going outside and enjoying the sun a bit, knowing there is a beach near the fortress. On that note, you begged the men one night that you three spend a weekend dedicated to the beach. And your heart sprung with joy when they nonchalantly agreed.

That’s where you are now, lying on a towel underneath the shade of a tent. You sit with Toji, lying on his side with his chest to your back, rubbing his hand on your waist. The sea breeze feels good to your skin exposed from your swimsuit, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore is so therapeutic to the ear that you could drift to sleep as your head is rested comfortably on the towel.

You hum. “I’d like to, but the water’s so cold.”

The raven-headed man gently pinches the flesh of your hips. “It’ll be warmer when y’re in the water.”

“And Sukuna said I shouldn’t be in while he’s gone; the waves are getting bigger with the tide.”

“Mmm.” He hums to the point of his mentioned partner. “True, they are getting a lil’ intense.” Toji brings his lips to kiss your temple, an action you smile subconsciously at. “But they’ll get worse in the next hour or so.”

You nod aimlessly despite your following words. “Sukuna warned us.”

“He did,” he comes to your ear. “But ya think I’m one to listen?” His chuckles-so gruff and baritone-chain reacts to a giggle of your own, shaking your head. “Besides, ya got me here, not gonna let the sea take my baby ‘way from me.” 

“You say that even though you threw me into the ocean after chasing me down once we got here. Didn’t mind the sea having me then, huh.” 

“…Debatable.” Chortles from the man transition to guttural laughs when you nudge him with your elbow, and more loving kneads to your hip is caused. You shift your face to peek at him over your shoulder. “Serious, though,” a kiss to your nose. “Just a few minutes, then we’ll head back and meet up with ‘Kuna, ‘kay?”

You blink slowly, eyes locked with the patient emerald orbs that effortlessly draw you in. A sigh leaves your nostrils, yet it’s not heavy, and you give Toji a gentle peck; the soft noise of your lips departing is heard despite the crashing waves. You bat your eyes, “Don’t blame me when you-know-who comes out of nowhere to drag us out.“

“Damn, that’s exactly what I planned to do,” you roll your eyes while he smirks and straightens up. “C’mon, sweetie, while the sun is still up.”

You take his outstretched hand and pull yourself up from the settled towel, walking with your husband to exit the shade and embrace the sun’s rays basking upon you. You smile as you swing the intertwined hands, the sand under your feet nice and cool to the soles. 

It then becomes cold and rigid as you two appear close to the waves meeting the earthy surface, the white foam of the calm water meeting your toes before they’re drawn back. You and Toji keep going, shivering from the contact of the water meeting your ankles, calves, and knees. And Toji’s hand doesn’t let go throughout the descent. 

The waves are much more prominent than earlier, their height a tad taller and coming in an eager frequency. So you brace yourself and wait for Toji to throw you under them at the perfect moment.

And once he nods, the two of you inch closer and prepare for the upcoming wave for you to submerge within.

You give yourself a count. One…two… The wave is mere seconds away from hitting you. Thre—

Until your view that was once full of the pretty blue sky and the towering water was now…a shoji frame of an oceanview from afar? 

The sea that was close and touching you seconds ago is now a mile away, seen down below as if where you are is atop a hill or cliff. Not to mention, your feet were not touching the sand anymore. If anything, they were…dangling in the air? And from what it looks like, aren’t you in someone’s room?

“Ahem.”

It all didn’t click until you heard him — a voice of the same recognizable caliber as Toji. There was only one way you could’ve been transported from the beach to a room within literal milliseconds, a way that only your husbands could easily do: speed faster than the human eye can keep up with. Eyes sail away from the picture of the ocean and find yourself in what appears to be your shared room of the fortress. And what you see next is none other than the other husband you share this room with. 

Sukuna holds you in bridal style, your back and shoulders situated comfortably by his upper left arm as the upper right holds your wet legs afloat. The humongous, cursed man has you to his bare chest, which peaks through a casual yukata. His warmth heated your cold side, wet from the water.

You blink with surprise. “Sukuna!”

“Woman.” Of course, he’d call you that; you gulped under his crimson eyes. “You heard me the first time,” you nod cautiously. “And you still dare to disobey after my warning.”

“My apologies, my King,” you hoped using his nickname would help lessen the tension—it didn’t, the salmon-headed giant narrowing his gaze. “We thought you were napping—”

“So what, you think just because I’m not physically seen, you’re allowed not to heed my caution?” Jesus, you felt like you were shrinking on his grasp as he went on. “I tell you not to do something for your sake, and I watch you do the exact opposite.” Your lips flatten with every word, quivering under the shadow of being scolded like a child!

But then, “Relax, ‘Kuna,” you and Sukuna look down to the right side of him, seeing there was Toji, held by the lower right arm like a sack of potatoes. “It was my idea to take them fr’ a few more minutes, so let ’em slide.”

“And just why would you do that?” Sukuna’s brows trench even lower. “Have you both gone deaf?”

“Ahh shut up; we’re on a lil’ vacation, and vacation means lighten up on the strict shit.” Toji lectures back to his partner. “We’re relaxing this weekend because of the princess y’re scoldin’, tryin’ to enjoy this heat with the water right there. So cut them some slack, will ya.”

“The only slack I should be cutting is you; did you forget I was with you two earlier when you threw this one into the waves?”

“No, but if my memory is right, I can recall y’r big ass throwin’ them further than I did once they swam back to shore.”You titter faintly at the recollection; however, the smile is wiped clean off your face when Sukuna’s lower left eye snaps back to you. “As I said, it was only gonna be fr’ a few minutes, and then we’d head back; waves don’t get too bad until the next hour. Plus, it was all my idea, so don’t go yellin’ at my baby fr’ nothin’.”

Sukuna looks at Toji for a few seconds in silence before he turns to trap you in his stare once more. You can only chew your lip before giving the behemoth a tiny smile, nothing too bold, as he’s still uptight. The only sound to pass the time was the wind chime by the open shoji door, the wind pushing the item to sing in a pleasing tune.

Seconds feel like minutes until you see the cursed being roll his eyes with a heavy groan—yes, all four maroon orbs—before he drops Toji to the tatami flooring. He was, again, treated as a sack of potatoes, unlike when Sukuna descends you down to depart gently like a feather. Weighty footsteps go to one side of the room to slide the closet door, and he throws two folded towels and yukatas robes at his spouses. “Change,” it wasn’t a request. “Or catch a cold, whichever conveniences you.” 

You and Toji follow his commands and switch from your swimmer to after drying your bodies, changing into the yukatas and hanging your wet clothes to dry. 

Sukuna follows you to the veranda strip of the shared bedroom, where you sit under the shade, and the view of the stunning sea is visible. You yelp at the pull of him, his powerful lower left hand sliding your sitting figure closer to him. “Rest here,” another command as he stretches his arm. “Since you want to disrupt my sleep.”You don’t complain, complying as you rest your head on his arm while the right arms pull you in for his chest to meet your back. 

“‘Scuse me, comin’ through,” Toji enters the veranda, walking to where you two are and taking a seat. Sukuna notices the onyx-haired man and uses his lap as a pillow to rest his colossal head. Toji scoffs at his gigantic partner, placing his hand in the pink hair to pet around; the cursed man purring to the touch, and the vibration soothes your frame. “Guess you do know how to relax, huh?”

Sukuna opens one eye. “Disobey me again, and we’ll see how far I can chuck you two to the seafloor.”

“Tough love,” Toji sneers as he pours sake to drink. “Can you believe him, princess?”

You chuckle as you’re pulled intimately into Sukuna’s warmth. “Rest, little dove,” he whispers to your ear, like a spell that has you sighing with the wind caressing your skin, waves gently crashing out, and the song of the wind chime submits your eyelids to a close. 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[p0orbaby]

Long Live the Local

summary: it’s all fun and games until the lights are dimmed and her name gets her nowhere

warnings: suggestive ish

a/n: the lovechild of my brain and this request

word count: 1.8k

-

You were never one for sports.

The idea of chasing a ball around a field for hours seems absurd. The thought of people giving everything for a game, the relentless training, the blind devotion—it’s always struck you as bizarre, quite frankly. And yet, here you are, entangled in the whirlwind that is Leah Williamson, a name that makes headlines almost every other day.

You remember the first time you saw her, standing on that pitch, chest puffed out, head held high—a lioness surveying her kingdom. Leah is everything you aren’t: confident, charismatic, and dripping with a cockiness that should’ve been off-putting but instead, was annoyingly magnetic.

You met at a pub, a noisy, crowded place where the scent of spilled beer and sweat mingled in the air. It was one of those boozers where the music is too loud, and the conversations have to be shouted over it. The kind of spot where everyone seems to know each other, and yet, anonymity can still wrap around you like a comforting shroud. Leah approached you with the swagger of someone who knew exactly what she wanted and was used to getting it. She leaned against the bar next to you, her presence commanding attention, even in the dim, flickering light.

“Never seen you around here before,” she said, her voice low and smooth, cutting through the background noise like a hot knife through butter. “You a fan of the game, or did you just get lost?”

You raised an eyebrow, taken aback by her audacity. There was a confidence in her eyes, a challenge almost. “I’m not lost, and I’m definitely not a fan,” you replied, meeting her gaze head-on. There was no way you were going to let her intimidate you.

Leah’s grin widened, her eyes lighting up with amusement. It was as if she could sense your defiance and welcomed it. “So, if you’re not here for the game, what brought you out tonight?”

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the fascinating pull of her presence. “Just looking for a good time, I guess.” It sounded lame even to your ears, but it was the truth. You were here to escape, to find something or someone to distract you from the monotony of your everyday life.

“Well, you found it,” Leah said, her confidence unwavering. Her voice had a way of making a statement sound like a promise. “Name’s Leah, by the way. Leah Williamson”

“I know who you are,” you said, unable to keep the hint of a smile from your lips. “You’re kind of hard to miss.” In the world of sports, she was a star, and even you, with your disinterest in the game, couldn’t ignore her presence.

She laughed, a sound that seemed to fill the entire bar, drawing eyes toward you both. “Glad to know I’m making an impression. So, what’s your name, mystery girl?”

Her question hung in the air between you, the noise of the bar fading into the background. For a moment, it was just the two of you, and you felt the pull of her gaze, like a current you'd happily stop swimming against.

You told her, and she repeated it, as if testing how it felt on her tongue. “Nice to meet you,” she said, extending a hand. You took it, feeling the callouses on her palm, a testament to her dedication to the sport she loved. Her grip was firm, the handshake of someone used to making first impressions count, the texture of her skin a contrast to the polished smoothness of the world you inhabited.

The conversation flowed easily after that, Leah’s brashness a constant undercurrent. She regaled you with stories of her exploits on and off the pitch, each one more outrageous than the last. She was a master storyteller, her words painting vivid pictures that made you laugh and shake your head in disbelief. She had a way of drawing you in, her voice animated and expressive, making you feel as if you were right there with her in those moments of triumph and chaos.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked, feigning hurt when you expressed doubt about one particularly outlandish tale. “I’ll have you know, I recovered 56 balls in one tournament. Google it.”

“I’m sure you did,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “You’re full of it, you know that?”

“Full of talent, maybe,” she shot back, her grin widening. Her confidence was almost tangible, like a force field around her. “But you like it. Admit it”

You couldn’t deny it. There was something intoxicating about Leah’s confidence, the way she carried herself as if the world was hers for the taking. And she made you feel like you were part of that world, like you were special just because she had chosen you to share it with. She had a gravitational pull that was impossible to resist, and you found yourself drawn into her orbit, fascinated by the ease with which she navigated life.

-

It wasn’t long before Leah’s flat became a second home to you, a place where the boundaries between who you were and who you were becoming blurred. The transition was seamless, your belongings slowly migrating to her space, until it felt as much yours as hers. She was intoxicating, and you drank her in, day after day, drawn to the allure of her bravado.

Every touch, every kiss was imbued with the essence of Leah’s unwavering self-assurance. She was the master of the moment, every moment, and she made sure you knew it. The way she kissed you, the way her hands moved over your body, it was as if she was claiming you, making you part of her domain.

But then, there were the nights. The nights when Leah’s cocksure attitude evaporated like morning mist, leaving behind a woman so different it was almost disorienting. She’d pull you into her bed with that same easy confidence, but as soon as the lights dimmed, it was as if she transformed. The bravado melted away, revealing layers of complexity and vulnerability that she kept hidden from the world.

You remember the first time it happened.

You were both lying on her bed, the city lights filtering through the blinds casting patterns on the walls. The silence of the room was punctuated by the distant hum of traffic, a soothing backdrop to the intimacy of the moment. Leah was beside you, her breath steady but her fingers trembling ever so slightly as they traced your burning skin. You turned to look at her, expecting to see that familiar fire in her eyes, but instead, you found something else: vulnerability.

Her cheeks were flushed, her usual smirk replaced by an uncertain smile. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a soft, shaky exhale. You reached out, placing your hand over hers, and felt the tremor beneath your touch. It was a startling contrast to the confident, almost arrogant persona she projected when the sun was high in the sky.

In the darkness, stripped of her public persona, Leah was just a human, vulnerable and real, seeking connection and reassurance.

“Leah,” you whispered, not sure what else to say. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing nervously. The Leah you knew, the one with a cheeky grin and a sharp wit, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, here was a woman who seemed almost fragile in her fragility.

“I… I don’t want to mess this up,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “I know I can be… a lot.” The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her insecurity. It was a rare glimpse behind the curtain, a look at the person Leah hid from the world.

Her honesty was a dagger through the fabric of her carefully constructed persona. You saw her then, really saw her, and it broke your heart and healed it all at once. The mask had slipped, and in its place was a raw, unfiltered truth that made her seem more real than ever.

“You’re not messing anything up,” you assured her, squeezing her hand gently. “Just be you. That’s all I want.” You meant every word, the simplicity of your statement cutting through her fears like a balm.

Leah’s eyes closed, and she took a deep breath, her confidence fracturing and giving way to something raw, something real. She moved closer, her body pressing against yours, and you felt the shiver that ran through her. Her lips found yours, hesitant at first, then growing bolder as you responded, meeting her halfway. There was a tenderness in the way she kissed you, an exposure that spoke volumes.

In the intimacy of those moments, Leah was stripped of her armor. She wasn’t the star athlete or the charismatic leader. She was simply Leah, a woman who, despite all her bravado, was terrified of letting you down. Her hands, usually so steady and sure, fumbled with the buttons of your shirt, and she muttered an embarrassed apology that made you smile.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, guiding her hands with yours. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” Your words were a promise, a reassurance that there was no rush, no pressure.

You moved together, slowly, tentatively, exploring each other with a tenderness that left no room for the smug exterior Leah wore so well. Her kisses were soft, almost reverent, and when she finally pulled back, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. It was a moment of pure connection, untainted by the personas you both wore for the world outside these four walls.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asked, her voice breaking. The question was loaded with the fear of rejection, the uncertainty that came with letting someone see the real you.

You cupped her face in your hands, wiping away a tear that had escaped. “Because I see you, Leah. All of you. And I wouldn’t change a thing.” It was the truth, plain and simple. In seeing her, you saw everything that made her who she was, and you loved her for it.

She kissed you again, deeply this time, and you felt her relax into the moment, her feebleness transforming into trust.

You made love that night, slow and sweet, every touch a promise, every kiss a vow. Leah crumbled beneath your hands, her confidence unraveling until all that was left was the pure, unguarded woman she tried so hard to hide. It was a dance of faith and tenderness, a mutual unveiling of the selves you kept to yourselves.

In the aftermath, as you lay tangled together, Leah’s head resting on your chest, you felt her breathe a contented sigh. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, and for once, she was silent, no clever words or witty remarks, just the sound of her breathing, steady and sure.

[hotchner-edu]

Silly Hotchner | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: When the BAU team and local investigators loiter by your hideaway, you're forced to speed up their investigation.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Mermaid!F!Reader

Warnings: aaron points a gun at r for a few seconds oops

For the past two days there’s been a disturbance at the bank of the river near your favorite hideout. Normally, you wouldn’t be as reckless when it comes to the surface dwellers, but you were starting to get antsy.

The sky was brightening again after a peaceful night, and like clockwork, the group of surface dwellers were starting to gather, staring at the edge of the tree line and back toward the water. This time, you see a few new faces joining in.

Swimming upstream into the wide river and slowly drawing closer to where the group of people are, you hear their distorted voices from under the water.

Peeking your head up so your eyes were above the water’s surface, you hide yourself behind one of the tall rocks.

“I'm Agent Hotchner. You said that witnesses saw him here?” You hear a stern voice echo around the clearing. Looking over, you see a tall man, hands on his hips, as he talks to some of the other surface dwellers.

"Hikers said they saw a boy in a baseball cap throw a duffel bag into the water before running off." The man he's talking to explains, gesturing to the still river.

The handsome man— Agent Hotchner nods along and gazes out into the water as well. "Right. Well, we'll need to comb through the river floor to try and find the bag. It may give us an idea of how our unsub is operating."

"My boys have been on that since yesterday, but the river's too deep and the bottom is filled with jagged rocks. The duffel bag could be lodged between some stones." The other man sighs, running a hand over his forehead.

"Divers?"

"They won't be getting in until tomorrow, something about a shortage in oxygen tanks."

Agent Hotchner looks deep in thought as he squats down by the edge of the river. "Any chance the bag could have been carried downstream and into the ocean?"

"It's unlikely. The river doesn't get much movement, and the bag would be trapped by the rocks if it were weighted." The other man explains, looking exhausted. "Well, I have to get back down to the station. The parents of the last girl who turned up are coming in. Let me know if you and your team need anything."

You watch as the other man leaves quickly, allowing Agent Hotchner to do some more thinking. As his eyes dart around the length of the river, your eyes widen when his gaze finds yours. Immediately popping back down into the water, you quickly begin swimming back in the direction of the ocean.

Nothing good could come out of meeting a surface dweller.

However, as you're shooting through the water, a large black object grabs your attention. It's resting against one of the stones, strap caught under a different rock.

If this was the object the surface dwellers were searching for, giving it to them would allow them to leave the area sooner than later and you could return to your hideout.

Reaching for the object, you're taken aback by how hefty it is. Tugging it hard, you manage to free it from under the second rock, and you carefully try to lift it. It would be a slow endeavor to move it toward somewhere shallower, but you were sure that Agent Hotchner wouldn't do anything drastic in that time.

Cautiously, you tug it behind you by the strap, swimming back toward the area where the surface dwellers were gathered. When you approach your previous watching spot, you brave another peek into the surface.

Nobody was paying any mind to the water currently as they seemed to be staring down at the dirt by the trees, pointing into the distance and talking. Knowing that this was your window of opportunity, you swing the bag forward and push it toward the edge of the river, letting the soaked object lay halfway on the grass.

As you go to shove it fully out of the water, you perk up as you feel a presence near you. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widen as you see Agent Hotchner staring down at you, gaze inscrutable as he points something at you.

"Who are you? This area is under investigation." His tone is deceivingly calm with an edge of caution that made your mind scream for you to get away.

You stare at the object he's pointing at you. It was an odd shape, and his finger was resting on a hook on its underside. He sees you staring at it in wonder, slowly lowering it the longer he studies you.

"Bag..." your voice comes out like a whisper as you shyly point to the object you dredged up.

He seems speechless for a second before tucking the object by his side and sighing.

"Thank you, but you shouldn't be diving down there all alone. It's dangerous." He steps forward and squats down a little, extending his hand toward you. "Here, let's get you out of there first, and then I'll have someone take you home."

You let out an amused giggle and poke his hand gently before shaking your head, slowly drifting further back into the river. "Silly, Agent Hotchner."

Aaron watches as you sink back into the water, disappearing from sight like you were never even there to begin with. As you swim further away, you can hear the distorted voices of the other surface dwellers stumbling upon the bag too.

To your luck, finding the bag at the bottom of the river for the surface dwellers led to the outcome you had hoped for. As you're playing with the trinkets in your hideout, you freeze as you hear a muffled voice above the river.

You wondered why surface dwellers would be by the river again, especially since it was dark out now. Peeking out from your hideout, you hear the voice again.

A familiar deep voice reaches you. "Are you here?"

Smiling a bit, you swim up toward the surface and peek your head out from the water. "Silly Hotchner?"

By the edge of the water, Agent Hotchner is standing there in much more casual clothes. Much to your relief, he was alone.

"You're still here." He says in a bit of surprise.

Nodding, you swim closer to him. "What are you?" He asks under his breath, more to himself than to you.

When you don't answer, he shakes his head a little to snap out of his stupor. "I just... I wanted to come back to thank you for finding the duffel bag."

You beam brightly at this. "Did you find who you were looking for?"

"We're close." He nods, sitting down beside your arms as they leaned on the edge of the grass.

"What was that... thing earlier?" Your voice comes out with an air of naivete as you ask him.

Agent Hotchner furrows his brows a little and frowns. "Thing?"

You lift your arms to extend in front of you, mimicking how he was holding the object. Realization dawns across his face and he allows a small, sheepish smile to flit across his lips. "That was a gun."

"Gun?" The word slides off your tongue with a stilted tone, your unfamiliarity with the object clear.

He nods and his voice grows softer, greatly juxtaposing the tone he was using when he first saw you. "It is used to hurt people and animals. If you see someone else pointing one at you in the future, try to get away if you can."

"I've always heard that surface dwellers were dangerous. I guess that's true." You respond softly, watching him with curious eyes.

"Surface dwellers?" He echoes in confusion, mind already working a mile a minute to process the current situation.

Nodding, you contemplate the idea running through your head for a moment. "You can't tell anyone else. Promise?"

He nods and watches you carefully, expression shifting when you lift yourself a little more and kick your tail up to break through the water. His eyes stare in shock at the glimmering scales decorating your tail, winking at him under the moonlight.

The sudden reveal has his eyes widening owlishly, his mouth falling open in a small gape. "You're beautiful..." He whispers in awe.

"You're pretty too." You reply quickly, sinking back down into the water.

He looks taken aback for a second, but immediately looks down with a grin as he shakes his head. "I thought I was imagining things when I first saw you."

"Well, we usually stray away from surface dwellers."

"Is that what we're called?" He muses rhetorically, keeping his eyes on you. "Do you live in this river?"

Shaking your head, you glance back toward the water. "Not really. I just like it here. I live out there most of the time." You point further out toward the ocean.

He nods and looks up at the sky, studying the stars. "I don't live here either."

"Where do you live, Silly Hotchner?" You ask quietly, propping your head on your hand as you admire him. This seems to amuse him as he shakes his head and chuckles breathlessly.

"You can call me Aaron. That's my name. People only call me Hotchner when I'm working."

Nodding in understanding, you play with the blades of grass in front of you. "Aaron... do you live far from here?"

He nods and yawns a little. "Yeah... I live pretty far from here."

You can't help but deflate at that, a pout overtaking your face. "Oh."

"Why? What's wrong?" He asks with a gentle voice, attention now solely on you again.

"That means I won't see you again, right? After you catch who you're looking for." Your voice is small, now knowing the feeling of companionship filling your heart was fleeting.

His eyebrows furrow again, something that seemed common for him, and his face softens. "Do you want to see me again?"

Nodding a bit bashfully, you rip some of the grass under your fingers. "It's been a long time since I've talked to someone else."

Aaron seems to consider this for a second, and he reaches out to rest his hand on yours. "I have a son. His name is Jack, and I think he'd like to meet you."

Snapping your eyes to meet his, you grin widely and nod. "Will you both come then?"

Chuckling a bit, he nods too. "Yes, as long as you don't stray too far from here."

Humming to yourself softly, you mentally go over your plans for the upcoming seasons. "I'm going to stay here until snow falls on the trees again."

Aaron looks around the perimeter of the treeline and agrees steadily to your silent request. "Yes, I think it'll be good for us to come visit before the winter."

A chilling breeze whistles past the swaying tree branches and curls around Aaron's seated figure, his warm hand clutching yours a bit as he shivers. "It's cold. You should go back." You suggest, satisfied with his promise to return in the near future.

He looks a bit hesitant before conceding as goosebumps paint along the length of his arms despite being sheltered by his zip-up. As he starts rising from his spot, you gasp a little. "Oh wait, before you go." You wait for him to pause and look at you questioningly before you dart back under the water and toward your hideaway.

Hurrying through the little hole-in-a-wall shelter, you nab a shiny trinket you fished from the ocean a while back. Returning to the surface, you hold out the object with a smile.

"A gift." You explain to Aaron as he crouches down to take it from your hand.

He holds it up to catch the moonlight, admiring the little crystal chunk. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"It's one of my favorites." You explain with a shy grin, happy that he seems pleased with it. "So make sure to come back soon."

He chuckles a little and runs his fingers along to pockets and grooves of the crystal. "Trying to bribe me?"

"Is it working?"

Shaking his head fondly, he pockets the trinket. "I'll bring you something in return when I come back. Now remember what I told you?"

Nodding, you proudly recite the lesson you'd learned. "Stay away from guns."

Smiling in fondness, he leans over to swipe his thumb against your cheek. "Attagirl."

[brailsthesmolgurl]

PUPPY LOVE?

Preview: You had always been the apple to their eyes. How would they express their affection towards you in highschool?

Warnings: I had to make it slight-slight-slight angsty hehe, teeth-rotting fluff for comfort for my beloved readers <3 btw readers and the boys are highschool kids in this one-shot so no suggestive or anything!

P.S: This idea came to me in the middle of the night and I knew I had to burn the midnight fuel to squeeze all of my brain juice for this piece :> Enjoyyy!

RAFAYEL

You lifted your head up when you heard a chair dragged against the tiled flooring. It came to a halt and down sat the lilac haired fellow, right in front of you, his chin propped on the back of his hand as he leaned down to look at you, a smirk hung on his thin lips. Rafayel. "Someone looked like they had a nightmare yesterday."

"It's none of your business." You furrowed your eyebrows, gaze turned towards the classroom door. More classmates are starting to walk in, greeting each other good mornings and immediately getting into their daily routines of catching up or gossiping. You, on the other hand, do not really belong to any 'gangs'. You find solace within your own bubble and occasionally, do hang out with your only friend, Tara.

The purple haired individual in front of you frowned, your answer unappealing to his taste. This young man sitting in front of you is the lucky charm of your school, and almost everyone dotes on him, headmaster, teachers and students alike. Both of his parents are renowned artists, comparable to Van Gogh and many other artists throughout history books and as expected, Rafayel inherited the same talent as his parents. Rich, handsome, charming and talented, he is basically a girl magnet.

"You do not have to be so rude you know." He stood up when he heard his name being called. Reaching into the pockets of his blazer, he took out two cheese sticks and placed it onto your table. "Here, have this. Your frown makes you look like a shriveled up prune. Some cheese sticks would probably do well for you." He chuckled teasingly and stepped out of your personal bubble, heading out of the classroom.

If glares could kill, you would probably be laying on the floor motionless by now. The cheese sticks that sat at your table were attracting unwanted attention from the girls in your class. You had absolutely no idea why Rafayel would always approach you. The attention you are receiving from him does not beat the attention other girls are getting as well, not that you cared but you just find it odd. A lone girl getting so much attention from the school's celebrity, what would the others think of it? Maybe he is just trying to be friendly. That always remains the reason to your question.

Here comes the other question. You do not think you like him, but why does your heart flutter whenever he is near you? Bidding you good morning and goodbye had became a part of a routine for the both of you. Why would your heartstrings tug whenever you find another girl initiating skinship with him? Why?

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Rinnnggggg. The bell rung, indicating the end of another school day. Students rushed out like ants out of the school premises, flooding the empty hallways. You packed your things, eyeing the time displayed by the clock. 3pm. It is the perfect time for you to go to the art room to practice some drawing. You may not be an artist like the talented Rafayel, but you still do have your own fascination towards drawing and sketching.

You walked in the direction opposite of the flow, passing through the crowd like a fish trying to swim upstream. As you were nearing the art room, someone knocked you over and you fell backwards, with your bagpack being your cushion as you landed back first onto the floor. You still winced upon impact. "Oh look, it's Rafy's pet." The girl that knocked you over crossed her arms, her blond curls tied up in a high ponytail. Oh, it's the school's flower girl, Jarianne, but you guessed it. She is nowhere carrying the aura of a flower.

Sighing, you pushed yourself off of your back, not even having the thought to fight back. "Know your place would you?" Jarianne spoke, studying her oval shaped painted nails. "Rafy might give you cheese sticks every once in a while, but that does not mean anything. Don't get your hopes up, okay sweetie?" Huffing a smile, the mean girl strutted off, leaving you calculating your next steps.

Shrouded with anger, you got up and made your way towards the art room. You are ready to splash some paint onto the canvas, wanting to express your anger in a much more 'healthier' form. She was right. Who are you to be engaged with Rafayel. Someone who is a loner like you should not be in any way associated with someone of such a high status like him. You are halfway at being disappointed at yourself until you slide the door opened and you saw Rafayel in the art room.

He looked ethereal, basked in the warm light of the sun in the midst of a cloudy afternoon, his lilac hair slightly tousled on his head. His back was facing you, but you could tell with the way his paintbrush moved across the canvas with grand gestures, he is painting yet another masterpiece. Part of his uniform, the dark blue blazer and white collared shirt was messily tossed onto one of the desks nearby, and he is left in his black t-shirt. Right when you are about to leave, his head snapped around and he caught sight of you standing in the doorway with beady eyes. "Finally, you're here." Framing himself to be waiting for you this whole time. Well, he was.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you." You consciously tucked a stray strand of your brunette curls behind your ear, your face immediately turning red when you realised that you may have taken a bit longer then usual to be staring at the young man. "I'm gonna go." You turned and immediately started jogging down the hallway.

"Wait! Wait!" Rafayel called out for you, yet, you did not bother to turn back. All you could hear was the sounds of chairs creaking and a loud thud, followed by hurried footsteps.

You turned a corner and slid yourself into an empty classroom to catch your breath. When you sat yourself down, the door slid right open and Rafayel presented himself, huffing and panting as he bent himself down to slow his breaths. You were shocked of course, that he would run down the halls for you. Jarianne's words rang through your head like an alarm and it filled you with more regrets.

"You should stop talking to me." You clenched your fist, standing up, getting ready to leave. "We are not friends to begin with, so we should keep it that way." When you walked past him, he gripped your wrist and you gasped in response. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Do you actually..." He took in a huge breath and straightened his posture, now eyes meeting yours. "Are you actually so naive?"

"Look, I don't know what you are trying to do Rafayel, but I am not interested in whatever you are going to say. Just leave me alone." You pulled your wrist out of his grip but it only prompted him to hold your wrist tighter. "Leave me be!"

You slipped, and he grabbed you by your waist, underestimating the strength of his before he stumbled backwards and you ended up pressing him against the wall. The both of you had the same expression, widened eyes and flushed cheeks. Tension immediately started pumping into the air, causing your body to tense up. "Are you upset?" He broke the silence between you two, leaning down closer to you to inspect your face. "I had never seen you getting so mad before."

MAYBE. JUST MAYBE. A part of you do like him, you liked that he would only greet you in the morning and when you leave home, you liked that he would offer to teach you art anytime you wish, you liked that sometimes he would ditch his friends just to come and sit with you during recess. But, Jarianne was right. You always have this part of you that refused to accept the fact that you do indeed, like Rafayel. Just like all of the other girls out there. It's just that you are nothing special at all. You will be regarded as any other fan girl of his.

Hesitation laced in your voice. "I just don't think someone like you should be spending time with someone like me Rafayel." Your gaze dropped, feet shuffled against the floor beneath, watching the dust particles flying up into the air.

He clicked his tongue, but remained still. "You have not answered my question. Why do you think I go out of my way to talk to you everyday hmm?" Your silence was met with the continuation of his thoughts. "That's because I like you, y/n."

Your breath hitched in your throat when he confessed to you and you nervously took a step back to put more space in between the both of you. "Don't." His arms snaked around your waist and he reeled you in, nose tips almost touching. It took you a while to only realise that Rafayel is red like a tomato, the confession of his happen to be genuine afterall. His blushing expression is a sight to behold. Just like in a watercolour painting, all of the colours are harmonised, his purplish, tousled soft curls that sat on top of his head framed the outline of his carved facial shape well, with scarlet red lightly dabbed across his pale cheeks, giving the illusion of his eyes sticking out like magenta gemstones on a iridescent rubicund-white marble complexion. "I really do like you y/n."

"Why?" That is the only question you can mutter out of your mouth. You sounded dumb for a second but you would like to find out what he deemed special about you.

You can sense his nervousness when his eyes started darting everywhere and his arms withdrew from your waist. "I...You're...Uhm..." He is clearly struggling with his words. "You are different. You do not find the need to please me or to catch my attention." His words were spoken slowly and precisely, calculated even. "I like you because of the way you are, y/n. You are not like the other girls. Sometimes, when I look at you, I wanted to sketch a drawing of you, but I couldn't, because that's how alluring you are to me. No drawings could achieve that."

The way he phrased his affection towards you, was nothing of confidence but only of his vulnerability. Five years throughout his secondary days, you always regarded him to be the embodiment of confidence, carrying himself well has always been a gestalt of his. But today, you do not find that in him, all you see is this young man stumbling over every single word, self-doubt equivalent to yours hinted in his tone. He does not see himself to be worthy of you, just like you do not think you are worthy to him. The thought of it ached your heart.

"Rafayel. I...I never knew you liked me." Reaching your hands up, you patted his shoulders awkwardly, not really knowing where to position your hands. "I thought you just wanted to tease me and push me around like a plaything."

"The audacity to say that." He scoffed, face scrunched up like a shriveled prune he had mentioned to you earlier. "I don't like keeping the people I like as pets or any derogatory words you may think of, you know?" The sight of you holding onto his shoulders, eyes widened made him smile, one of his hand lightly patting the top of your head. Rafayel notices the way your lips would wobble the slightest when you tried to alleviate your own anxiety, convincing him further that you do possess the same feelings as him. He only has to figure out how to make you believe that he is not messing with your feelings and how to not escalate this sweet moment into a dramatic and awkward mess. "I don't want you to be accusing me of something so lowly anymore, yeah? Promise me?"

"But... what would people say when they see..." You gestured between the two of you, head already coming up with all sorts of accusations that would be thrown towards the both of you. "Us together? I don't want to trouble you..."

"They can say anything, but we can treat it as nothing y/n." He ran his hand down to your cheek, cupping your small face in his palm now, your face slowly warming up in his palm. "In the end, I chose you. It is only right for them to be jealous." He smiled leisurely, confidence resurfacing again. "So, would you date me y/n?"

Gnawing onto your lip, you nodded your head and looked down. You had only seen this in romance shows, where lip kisses are supposed to happen after confessions do. But you felt his soft lips collided against your forehead and your heart released sparks of fire uncontrollably. You are screaming internally as if you had won the lottery. As he pulled back, you raised your head up to glance at his facial features. Rafayel is beaming, hand still placed on the side of your cheek. As if it was cued, he managed to answer your question before you could even ask. "I will not kiss your lips until you allow me to, yeah? I will always wait until you're ready, as I respect---"

Wrong question, but does not beat the fact it was relevant to what you were initially going to ask him. Something along the lines of ‘whether are we going in for the kiss’. You decided to act upon your decision. Closing the short distance between you two, you planted your lips onto his, swallowing his uncertainty to fuel your bravery for the upcoming challenges you will have to face for being Rafayel's girl.

ZAYNE

"So, for this experiment, find someone you can pair up with to write a report based on your findings." Miss Akko instructed, placing the chalk onto her large wooden desk and scanning the crowd for any blank slates. "If you have any questions, you can always come and find me for consultations."

You looked towards the guy sitting next to you, Zayne. Ballpoint pen held in between his long fingers, gliding swiftly against the paper to create a neat yet slanted handwriting. Altough the class had ended, you could tell that he is still very much in his zone, jotting down whatever the teacher had mentioned earlier. If he could record it, you believe that would be the most viable way for him to stay on top of his grades all of the time. His posture relaxed when the last bell of the day rung. "Hey." You called out to him and he turned his head to face you. "Would you like to pair up? For the experiment?"

You had paired up with him for a few times for chemistry class. Being with the smartest kid does earn you a few perks, but he is not much of a talker so sometimes doing assignments with him would result in a crow-cawing awkwardness. "Sure." He nodded his head once and started gathering his reading materials into a pile while standing up.

Zayne has always been a man of a few words. Nodding is his most useful reaction whenever you ask him of something that he is borderline interested in. But if he does not agree with you, then he shall give you the stare that would make you question yourself about the absence of an answer from him. "When do you plan to do---"

"I will see you after class tomorrow." He cut you off, zipping his bag up and pulling it over his broad shoulders effortlessly. "Remember to bring your brain." OOF, COLD. It most likely explains why nobody would usually pair up with Zayne. More like he just refuses to.

Zayne was best known for his good looks and big brain but other than that, he does not have an appealing personality that makes him desirable among girls. Good to admire from afar but not good to interact with. Ever heard of the trend 'He is a 10 but...' . Yeah, that is Zayne's title trend. Only to people who has been in close contact with him. Yeah, he could be a dick with how straightforward he is but you find it as an admirable trait of his. He stabs people with his words, with truths that nobody would dare to say and maybe, you do secretly like him for the way he is.

“Come on Zayne, it’s not like I don’t study or help out with the reports for the past few times.” You rebutted, palms faced upwards and eyebrows knitted closely together. Zayne stood in his spot, expressionless face hiding his amusement. “So I do have a brain!”

He turned towards the direction of the door and started making his way out, not without giving his last statement. “Says the one who can’t even score a decent C grade.” There you stood, in the empty classroom, choked onto the curse words that you were about to throw at him when you heard his statement but you are sure with his lanky legs, he would have been out of earshot by now.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

TAP TAP TAP TAP… Your footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, reverberating through the empty classrooms. You were late for the meeting with Zayne because you had forgotten to bring your lunch to school today so you ended up having to run down to the vending machine to grab some quick bites. The machine however, betrayed your trust, the ultimate cliche move anyone can think of putting into a filler clip for a movie, when the snack gets stuck during the retrieving period purely because of the vending machine error. You could have easily gotten in trouble if anyone were to spot you with your whole arm shoved into the machine just to grab the item you had literally paid for.

The door slammed open with force and you were greeted with the sight of Zayne in the classroom. With a girl bent halfway down right next to him. You recognised her immediately, the long blond hair with forest green eyes, milky pale skin with a smile that could make anyone faint upon seeing it. She is the school’s student president, Nyla. The both of them perked their heads up, reacting to the sound of the door being slammed opened only to see you standing in the doorway, face flushed from the heat, holding onto your snacks in your hand. “Hey y/n.” The student president grinned, her pearly whites nearly blinded you. “Do you mind giving us some time? We have some personal matters to settle.” Not only does she look pretty, she has a pleasing attitude too? Just great. Pursing your lips, you nodded and went out the same way you came in, sliding the door closed behind you in a more polite manner this time.

“I still can’t believe that you are working on an assignment with her.” Nyla huffed, pushing her hair back with her fingers as she bent down next to Zayne again, staring at his notebook. Nyla had initially wanted to meet up with Zayne regarding the discussion for the upcoming school festival that will be held but eventually, she turned it into her personal chat session with Zayne. “Is she a freeloader most of the time?”

“No.” Zayne replied. “She does her part as I do for mine.” Zayne, at this point had already caught note on what Nyla is trying to do. Provoking a conversation out of him when he is late for the initial assignment arrangement with you bothers him. “I think you had already gotten all of the answers you needed for the school festival.”

“But, I would like to get to know you too.” Nyla sat herself onto the side of his desk, manicured fingers fanned herself in an attempt to cool herself down. “Say, how about we try to go out for a little bit hmm?”

The raven haired young man did not even spared her a glance, eyes focused on his handwritings. “Zayne, come on. Smarty pants with a cute face like you dating me would be the talk of the school for weeks to come.” The pitch of her voice heightens at the end of her sentence and Zayne sighed in frustration. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and exhaled.

“I am not interested in being your pawn.” He glanced at her and her smile faltered, alongside her confidence. “Nor do I find the necessity to feed into the delusions of yours.” The indifference shown on his body language gave her the conclusion she did not expected from him. Her pretentious ‘girl-next-door’ attitude no longer on display. The anger of a spoiled child who gets whatever they want seeped through and she raised her palm, ready to land it onto his cheek but he caught it right before it touches his cheek. “I wouldn’t do it to someone who believes in gender equality.”

Nyla withdrew her hand, strings of curse words falling out of her lips as to save herself from embarrassment and she left the classroom. The young man sat in the room, staring at the new page he had just flipped over on his notebook and he noticed the drawing of a stick man next to the page number. The stick man appeared to be holding onto the number 6 like a hockey stick and the 0 being reimagined as a puck. His lips pulled into a small smile, flashing back to the time when you tried to be sneaky when he was out of the classroom during one of your past assignment pairings, conducting this tomfoolery on his notebook and quickly returning everything back to its original position. But he saw it all, from the crack of the door when he was about to enter the empty classroom. He finds your childlike behaviour amusing after all.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“We are done talking.” You stared up, the blinding sunlight immediately getting shielded by Zayne’s opaque outline. You squinted your eyes narrower only to find that Zayne has his hand stretched out to you, given you are in a seated position. “We should get started on our assignment.” You took his hand and he pulled you up, the sheer size of his palm wrapped around your whole hand easily.

“Here.” You reached your hand into the pocket of your uniform and pulled out a small box of chocolate cookies. “This is for you. It fell out when I was trying to grapple for my sandwich.”

Zayne took the box into his hands, contemplating on the way you got it. “Did the vending machine got stuck again?” Your nod made him smiled a little. “If it gets stuck again next time, you can just ask me to get it for you.”

His sudden suggestion nearly made you choked on the last bite of your egg and cheese sandwich. It is hard to believe he would come out all of the way here to find you, let alone making small talk and telling you that you can ask him to solve your troubles whenever you please? But your dumb brain only believe that he was only trying to be helpful and he is merely thanking you for bringing him a snack. “So what did you guys talk about?” You could not help but to ask as the both of you slowed down your steps to be in sync with one another.

“She wanted me to go out on a date with her.” You were lucky you had finished your sandwich, or else this sentence would have sent you into full on choking mode. You did expect Nyla to ask him out to a certain extent given his popularity, but you were caught off guard that he was even willing to share the details about what had went on behind those closed doors earlier. “I told her that there is not a need to waste her time.”

Hm? You stopped in your footsteps and turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” Your lips had blurted out the sentence before your mind is in control and you swallowed the instant regret of the question. Zayne too, stopped in his footsteps and he looked at you, his hazel green orbs stood out more like a lush forest under the blazing sun above your head. When he took a step towards you, your heart lurched, eyes scanning the surroundings for anyone present.

“I already have someone on my mind.” Zayne closed the distance between the both of you. Within arms length, Zayne reached his right hand outwards and held your cheek. An immediate gasp could be heard, the pace of your heartbeat quickened, so as your breath. You could hear your own heartbeat in your head. It does not take a genius for one to unravel who he likes. You stood in front of him, drinking in his gaze that had softened for one of the very few times, and this time he did not snap his head away immediately. His thumb moved back and forth on your cheek, soothing the spreading redness that is a result of your realisation regarding his point.

Your eyes lit up and your jaw slacked, eyes frantically searching for a joke within his eyes but when you found no ill intention, you amounted to satisfy your curiosity. “Why…why me?”

His thumb slid down to your jawline, and stopped at your chin. Raising it up just enough for his eyes to be looking into yours and you gulped nervously when he closed the distance between the both of you. He smiled, lips tugged up slightly on both corners because all these while, he knew that the both of you have the same feelings for one another, but he just never really have the opportunity to be alone with you, till now. "You will find out soon enough." Leaning down, Zayne pressed his lips softly against yours to present his confession to you, stealing your first kiss away.

XAVIER

The countdown in your head never fails you. When the minute hand hits 12 on the clock, the bell rung, the teacher looked up from the book he was holding, glasses slid down his nose slightly as he realised his class period had came to an end. "Remember your homework kids. I will see you next week." He announced as the students all got up in sync, bowing and thanking the teacher for his teaching efforts.

As you landed your bum back onto your chair, you heard someone calling your name and your head turned towards the source of the sound. The blond bloke named Xavier sauntered over to you, his eyelids still half closed. "Hey, you going over for the fencing extracurricular later?"

"Yeah I am. Why?" You asked him nonchalantly, all while clearing your items off of the table and placing them into your bagpack. When you do not hear his response, your hands rested on your bag and you looked up at him, squinting your eyes. "Wait. You plan to skip it don't you?"

Xavier's eyes widened and his light eyebrows arched upwards. "What, no. I just..." His right hand reached up to rub the nape of his neck. "I just thought we could walk there together if you'd like."

Sighing in relief you smiled and nodded, pulling your bagpack over your back. You had forgotten to arrange the books you have to bring today hence the load of your bag became a deadweight and it nearly sent you rolling onto the ground. Xavier caught you on time before your face gets planted onto the tiled ground. "Careful. Here, let me help."

"Thanks." The blond young man easily took your bagpack off of your back, slinging it over the side of his shoulder that has his messenger bag hung onto. With the weight of fingerpads pressed against your arm, you flushed red when you realised that he had not released his hold on you. Catching your sight, he trailed it down to your arm and he released his grip, equally embarassed at how long the skinship lasted.

Truth is, you and Xavier are somewhat at the level of best friends. The both of you share the same classes and same taste for food, alongside same extra curricular activities. But recently, you started feeling more and more abashed around him. You would consciously want to look good in front of him; either it be tucking your hair behind your ears, chuckling gently instead of laughing like a troll, ironing your clothes to make it look pressed and neat. You are like becoming a whole different person just for him. But it is not necessarily for the bad.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Clank, Clink, Clank Clank. The sounds of the blades grinding against one another created screeches and clinking, which are not the right music for the ears. You sat a couple of meters away from the mat, eyeing Xavier clad in the metallic polyester jacket that is overlain with a thin, interwoven steel strands in between to provide him protection. Lamés is the right term for the protective gear on his torso. Gasps and mutters could be heard echoing in the huge hall, judgements and commentaries thrown around as the showdown between Xavier and his opponent has been relatively entertaining.

The whole nine minutes, both of the fencers has been extremely aggressive, parrying and lunging against one another whenever an opening is spotted. The race to land 15 touches on the opponent make it an extremely fast and deft sport. The both of them had equated to 14 touches each and this last touch would determine the winner. The referee stood in middle, arms raised midway to insinuate the start of the tie-breaker round. "Pret? Allez!"

The blades then ensued, waving in the air. "Halt." It was called out in two seconds and both of the opponents backed up, standing still in their spots. Your heartbeat thumped, the last you saw was the both of their blades touched both of their respective opponent's foil. It is hard to determine who is the winner. The referee was seen walking over to Xavier and he spoke. "Parrying then riposte, point-in-line is perfect and that forward extension of yours is worth the risk." He grabbed Xavier's arm and raised it, everyone in the hall cheered as Xavier removed his headgear and grinned, eyes landing onto you.

You smiled back, proud that he had manage to win the competition. You stood up when he walked off of the platform, wanting to congratulate him but Chiara beat you to it. "Xavier! You did so well!" The girl bounced over, her curls bounced to her footsteps' rhythm as well. "Oh my god, that was such a fight."

"Thanks." Xavier smiled and she grabbed him by his neck, throwing herself into his arms and you were stunned at her boldness. Xavier however, did not seem fazed as his arms raised up to pat her back. Chiara may just be an amiable individual but your mind abnegated that possibility and only opened its chamber doors to jealousy.

In a disconsolate, nervous manner, you turned and proceeded to walk out of the hall. Your heart thumped hard against your chest like booming speakers in an EDM concert. It also caused a lump to form in your throat. It hurts. Something about her just greeting and hugging him so casually made her wonder why did he never told you about his girlfriend before? He is already mysterious enough but at this point, it felt like a betrayal to you. But then again, he does not owe you that favour to tell you about his dating life if he does not wish to say anything.

Finding a cosy corner next to the herb garden that belonged to the Plant Society, you sat down at the side of the curb and amused yourself with the view of butterflies twirling around blooming flower petals. Amongst the weeds, Magnolia blossoms are most of the denizens found within the small patch of ground. Time passed by, perhaps around a couple of minutes and you heard hurried footsteps in the background but you were too engrossed with the butterfly landing onto a magnolia's carpels that you did not bother to turn around.

"Y/n." Xavier called out. "I had been searching everywhere for you." You turned your head slowly, stopping with only half of your face visible to him. "Did you noticed me winning just now?" "Yeah I did." You pushed yourself off of the curb, dusting the dirt off of your dark skirt and you faced him, gaze catching his chest rather than his cerulean orbs. "In fact, I saw Chiara went up to hug you." Your pout although not shown, it was obvious to Xavier. You are jealous.

He stepped forward and wrapped his lanky arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You were bewildered. In his arms, feeling his warmth spreading to your body and his scent swathed you, he smells like clean sheets and a bubble bath. Perhaps from his change of clothes. "I'm sorry." He spoke, breath batting against the nape of your neck. "I should have rejected her hug right then and there."

"It's okay Xavier, I didn't know you have a girlfriend." You were quick to address your hesitation, ready to take a step back from him but his hold around you tightened, not allowing you to leave his arms.

"She isn't. She isn't my girlfriend, y/n." He slowly pulled back, arms now moved to rest on your shoulder. For a moment, a gleam of wary was ready to surface but Xavier was quick to put out that emotion of his. "I don't think of her anything more than a friend. Unlike you."

Confusion clouded you like a misty apparition above your head. "What about me?" Your index finger pointed towards yourself. "What do you mean by 'unlike me'."

"I like you." His gaze unwavering, genuine intentions full on display. "I had liked you for a very long time y/n." Your jaw dropped to the ground almost instantly. You were not expecting this to happen at all but look at how fate has presented itself. Xavier smiled, his angelic smile akin to his divine features. He would have been mistaken to be an angel if you did not know that the halo around his head is the sun peeking out from the back of his head. “And I think I would very much like you to be my girlfriend instead of her.”

Your eyelids blinked rapidly, eyelashes just a few more blinks away to cool down the redness in your cheeks. As a reflex, your hands flew up to your mouth to mask your excitement, your lips probably pulled into a grin that stretches to both ears. “I…I…” Your stammering further betrayed your feelings and Xavier leaned down, supple hands held onto your wrist and he pulled your hands down, finally being able to see your shyful expression.

“Seeing you like this makes me very happy y/n.” He cupped your cheeks softly, tediously brushing the pads of his thumb across your cheek and he leaned in, planting a kiss onto your lips to officially make you his girlfriend.

Hope this fluff makes your day my lovelies! <3

[drifty-draws]

reconnecting to therianthropy ideas

hello y'all! first post! so recently i had a friend ask me how they can get reconnected to therianthropy, so i made a list and i thought i'd post it here!

-take walks in the woods or wild space -listen to a stream running while sleeping -sometimes when i sleep, i curl up into a ball on top of my covers -watch documentaries about your theriotype -go swimming in a lake and play on the shore if you have an aquatic theriotype -listen to your theriotype’s vocals -eat meat, if you’re a carnivore, or eat a salad if you’re a herbivore -take a cold shower and pretend it’s a waterfall -i’m dragonkin and being on the prow of a boat feels an awful lot like flying, but other options are standing facing the wind with arms outstretched, watching flying POVs with a fan pointed at you, and daydreaming, i guess -make a mask out of cardboard or buy a base (it’s okay if you can’t!) -lay in the sun outside -play with a pet, if you have one -if you have a lupine theriotype, play Wolfquest 3 Anniversary Edition on Steam. i’ve heard it has amazing graphics and hunting! -chew on something rubbery. i have an inflated rubber egg that i love to chew on -make a tail out if yarn. it takes a LOT of time and effort, but it feels good once completed -put glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling to simulate the night sky -watch Wolfwalkers, Brother Bear, Nimona (all relate to shapeshifting into a creature) -read Warriors if you have a feline theriotype -read Nat. Geo. magazines and articles -i like wearing sunglasses on my head because it feels like i have ears, but you could also wear a hat or a headband -draw your theriotype -if you have a nocturnal theriotype, try pulling an all nighter (if your parents will let you) -try hunting one of your stuffed animals (close the door in case you shift -climb a tree! -look up videos on how to get a shift by meditating (i personally don’t meditate but i’ve heard it works) -if you’re home alone, put a bowl of water or soup on the floor and eat/drink it like your theriotype would -if you can, try to get a tag to hunt something for real! when i hunt, it really connects me to nature (if you can’t, don’t sweat it) -go on a hike and try to act like your theriotype -make a den in your room or backyard -paint rocks or shells -decorate your room to match your theriotype -do quads, if your body allows. don’t worry about having the perfect form or jumping high, just have fun! you feel more natural the more you do it (i find going up stairs or uphill to be easiest) -find alterhumans in your area and make a pack -look at therian boards and concept art on pinterest -make a paw imprint in clay then hang it up -make a hidden therian/otherkin symbol in your room

thanks for reading my ramble! if you have more ideas, please feel free to comment!

stay wild 🐾 -drifty

[cosmichorrorlesbians]

These were the Silt Verses.

(closeups/design notes/rambling under the cut, because it took me over a month to make this so I'm going to be a little self-indulgent.)

spoilers for the whole podcast ahead!

Our protagonists! Notes:

Some of these came out more accurate to how I see them than others. Hayward in particular looks much less grimy and haggard than I imagine him. Carpenter, on the other hand, is perfect in my eyes. Shrue is (subconsciously) very much inspired by the wonderful @unbloodiedmartyr's rendition of them (thanks Sacha, your art goes insanely hard!)

Hayward and Paige face away, a nod to their final parting. Carpenter and Faulkner face one another, in deference to their final reunion.

Val and Shrue are both shown at the moment of their deaths.

Paige, the only character confirmed to survive the immediate finale, is the only one with closed eyes.

I'm a blond Faulkner truther. Sorry.

Someone left some really really insane tags on a Valpost I made like a month ago about how Val can alter her appearance as she pleases, but the Last Word can never convince her not to see the actual aftermath of her torture when she looks in the mirror, and it sent me a little crazy, so I was trying to capture that failing self-deceit here. She's meant to look absurdly young, but where the flames overlay her face, you can see the prayer marks and lacerations on her skin.

I had this out on my desk for days and every time a family member dropped by I had to frantically hide the fact I was drawing 'politician gets shot in the head' fanart. RIP.

These are the marks of the Many Below! They look Not Great enlarged, but hey ho. I wanted them to look hidden and incidental, separated in each corner as they are:

'Begin with a balbis on its side. Within the two spaces, a circle marked by a single dot.' Drawn in the silt of the White Gull River.

'Beneath this, a pair of concentric circles. Within the annulus, an ovoid with a slit - a staring eye.' Scrawled across the pug postcard Cross uses to write his idea to scapegoat Shrue.

'Under that, a lemniscate over a heptagram[...]' Made up of the ribbon that binds Mercer and Gage's rifles.

'[...]and three parallel lines beneath.' Faulkner's staff, broken into three pieces.

Interstitial illustrations. There are four sets of these, which (roughly) correspond to more stand-alone episodes & fan favourites. This is my favourite, for my beloved Chapter 36: All Lovers Part As Dust. I had a blast distilling recurring motifs of the episode into one little illustration, and I'm really proud of the result; I think it captures the match of sweet and bitter that the episode in question inspires. The clock points to the eleventh hour.

These are pretty self-explanatory: I couldn't pass up a chance to draw the inciting miracle of the series, and it made sense to pair it with the image of Paige and Hayward sailing downriver at the end of Season 2, an image which has always haunted me.

The hare and the owl are from Chapter 26, a symbol of the Wound Tree's emergence. The lobster and fish are intended as a nod to Faulkner and Rane, a character who I love but couldn't include more overtly. Lobsters are seen as a symbol of devotion and fidelity because, apocryphally, they mate for life, and yet the lobster here is without its pair. The fish was intended to be a remora, which swims beside sharks. (Yes, I'm aware remora are tropical sea-dwelling fish, and humbly beg any marine biologists reading this not to kill me on the spot).

The Killing And Violence Siblings!

These object illustrations were deliberately positioned as parallels and specifically reference Season 2, marking the point of the poem that is made up of that series' titles (an attention to the series chronology that roughly coheres throughout the piece. Very roughly.)

Mercer and Gage's rifles are twisted round with a red ribbon, which bleeds into the White Gull, binding them together and reflecting how they're rarely seen apart. The ribbon's also a deliberate parallel to the banner wrapping Carpenter and Faulkner's hands elsewhere in the art.

Carpenter's axe and Faulkner's sororicidal mirror shard are depicted alongside fish hooks, as though they're separated for much of the season, the Parish draws them back together in the end. Also an echo of Paige's line, 'Love is just a meat hook for you to catch me on.'

There's only blood on one of the rifles, in a nod to Mercer and Gage's uneven dynamic.

Bookend landscapes. The pages were intended to reference the Silt Verses as an in-story document, and represent the themes of truth, myth and record throughout.

The illumination!

It was always going to be a radio-- not a nod specifically to Sid Wright, but really to the use of broadcast, music and sound throughout the show. TSV's sound design is truly one of the things I admire most about it.

The radio is meant to be on Carpenter and Faulkner's dashboard, as they drive along the river in the very first episode, hence its positioning at the start of the poem.

I conceived this as the centre of the piece, and drew the rest around it.

aaaand that was a lot. I didn't cover everything, and I recommend clicking on the final piece to get full quality and see how the details interact with one another-- but if you've read through all these meanderings, thank you, sibling. I started this two weeks after the finale, and managed a full relisten while drawing. It's been a labour of love, and I now hate watercolours more than I have words for.

[vilhelios]

— WAIT FOR ME / I'M STILL SOMEWHERE ;

( you're getting older without me and i'm getting scared ) ; in which rafayel still hopes that there's a life where this works — where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.

cw: not beta read; spoilers for abysswalker rafayel's "sea of golden sand" myth, "fragrant dreams" card, "siren's song" anecdote, & main story ch. 7; angst ; some fluff ; mentions of blood, injury & death ; theories + headcanons about mc & rafayel's past lives ; kinda pretentious rafayel lore analysis ( can't help it, i just love him a lot! )

"RAFAYEL, do you think we're lovers in every universe?"

in the stillness of the night, as he mindlessly draws designs on your skin with his thumb, rafayel lies through his teeth: "yeah. i'm sure we are."

it's all he can manage. how do you tell your lover—your dear, sweet muse, whose presence makes the sea of your heart ebb and swell—that you've wondered the same thing lifetimes ago, and know the answer with bittersweet certainty? you continue talking about an article you read, in the morning—something about "consciousness energy fluctuations" and "that feeling of deja vu" and "soulmates."

and rafayel wonders, humming along to your rambling, if that's what you two are: soulmates.

"i wonder what we're like." you sigh, burrowing your head into the warmth of his chest. surely you can hear the rapid thrumming of his heart—he can't help it, the organ so helplessly weak in your presence. "you're the most creative man i know; got any ideas?"

"i think," rafayel starts, runs his fingers through your hair, "there's a life where i'm a merman, you're the human i've fallen deeply in love with, and the barrier between the waves and the shoreline is all that's stopping us."

rafayel remembers being younger, lifetimes ago. he remembers swimming upstream, through a little river that becomes a smaller creek, settling by your quaint home. he remembers playing you a song on his flute, an elegy for lemuria that became your song. he still remembers your head peeking out from the window and the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen staring down at him. you were like sunflecks dancing upon the water's surface—dazzling—and he, denizen of the deep dark sea, couldn't help but fall in love. he gave you his heart, his blood, his voice.

"hmm... reminds me of an old fairy tale." you press a kiss to the beauty mark on his chest, your lips curving into a smile against his skin. right above where his heart is, where the proof of your pact would shine bright. "do you think you'd have gotten a pair of legs and we'd live happily ever after on land?"

"of course i would've." rafayel smiles.

(he does not think about the way his voice grew hoarse as he sung lemuria's elegy. he does not think about the dagger he'd clutched so tightly in his hidden hand, as you approached him on the shore. he does not think about the hug, the warmth of your body making his resolve flutter. the warm blood on his hands, in the water, seeping from the heart he once loved and now carved out and cradled. he does not think about returning to a ruined lemuria, everything he's ever loved ripped away from him in a night.)

"then i like that one. what about another? knowing how we quarrel, do you think we were royalty hailing from opposing kingdoms?"

"hmm, close. i'd say that i'm an assassin, sneaking into your lovely highness's bedroom window."

"hah! i can see that." his heart flutters when he hears you giggle. rafayel wishes he could trap that beautiful sound inside a conch shell, it almost seemed possible, the way it felt like molten gold—sunlight. "i'd leave the windows open just so you'd have an easier time coming in."

"glad to know you'd still fall for my charms." he finds it in himself to smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "even if it might not be the brightest idea, dummy."

"hmph, but if we still loved each other then, you wouldn't kill me." your hand reaches upwards to cup his cheek, a thumb aimlessly stroking comforting lines across his skin. his breath hitches at how naturally it comes to you. "you'd fall for my charms too."

(why wouldn't it? you've done it so many times before, as you—dear highness of philos—gingerly removed his mask. he, who was destined to carve out your heart; and he, who could not bear to do so, who fell apart in the warmth of your hold. any hatred he'd held in his heart for the humans that desecrated his home —beautiful, sacred lemuria— dissolved with each ripple of the lake you both had danced across on that silent night. how could he ever hurt his beloved, who in another life he'd devoted entire oceans to?)

"yeah." he breathes out, almost a chuckle. "yeah, i guess i would, your highness."

"rafa?" you murmur, words slurred with the call of sleep, ushered in by him running a hand through your hair. "i really hope that we're soulmates even if it's in the silliest lives you could ever think up. do you?"

(and he hopes for more, a case study in greed. he hopes for the most blissful lives with you—where he's the receding sea and you are the sands of the shore, or you are an anemone polyp and he is the rock you've decided to settle upon, or he is the deepsea fish that looks longingly upon the warmth of the sunflecks that dance upon the water. he hopes there's a life where this whole thing works: where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.)

and rafayel smiles, presses the umpteenth kiss tonight to your forehead, watches you draw closer into his hold. and then he whispers his little wish against your skin, as soft as a siren singing lullabies to a sailor:

"yeah. i hope so too."

a/n: on this lovely valentine's day i offer the rafa stans: angst 🤩 the ending was a bit rushed because i... was no longer in an angsty mood. this fic is very much so a product of a time where i knew less of rafa's lore (see: did not finish the myth) so there may be some lore inaccuracies ... please do listen to berenstein by the band camino!!! l&ds' plot feels like an amalgamation of some of my favourite songs (berenstein, heartbeat by bts, isohel by EDEN)... and it's just such a good plot so far. please send me rafa lore stuff/general thoughts bc i'd love to try and play around with some of them (i have an idea for his birthday fic already) ,,, i'd love and appreciate you immensely ♡