otomegamesforlife

[otomegamesforlife]

Small lovely gestures

You don't need a grandiose proclamation of love done under full moon. Nor do you need vows of eternity screamed from the top of a building. Sometimes the smallest things speak the loudest.

Rafayel would make sure that every time you visit his place for the weekend (or longer) you are aware this is your home as well. What he doesn’t know is that he makes it impossible to leave. He lulls you in like a siren, and you are all but a sailor in this ocean called life. 

Things Rafayel does: 

He will grab your hand heading to the door before even thinking he needs car keys. He then pulls you back in the house refusing to let go of your hand. You are more important on any house leaving mission than transportation.  “Do you have everything?” He grabs your hand and nods “Now I do, cutie” “Keys?” “Oooops~” he walks back in for the keys gently leading you behind him.

He will make sure your water bottle/mug is always full. He spawns like a water spirit randomly just to grab your bottle and refill it.

He will make any night/day time skin routine seem like a small ritual. Pulling a new thing every time you visit. Oh now you have a headband to hold your hair that has a fish pattern on it. Next time, you are a proud new owner of a bathrobe that matches his. Another, he pulls out a set of creams, you have to try them both, duh.

He will flop onto you randomly. You are on the couch scrolling? Flop. A fish landed on your lap. You are lying on the coach? Flop a fish is on you cuddling you. No explanation, just pressure, sometimes a dramatic whine.

Will stop in his tracks, look at you blush and continue on his way. You can sometimes hear him mutter under his breath “Gods, she is so beautiful”. It happened so far when: you sneezed and spitted some tea on yourself; you were head down on coach scrolling on your phone; standing in the kitchen crumbles on your face, as you sneaked for a night snack, cheeks round with food; you were a crying mess because you were watching a very emotionally crushing movie (you told him you are watching it before he went to the shop — alone — he will whine later about it).

When you go back to your own place, you have a bag with little post it notes folded in half. Tiny hearts, quick sketches, flowers, small love letters.

Visiting Xavier's place is always like entering a trap. He doesn’t know it, but it is just so hard to get out. The place greets you like you are its righteous owner, it pulls you in with coziness you can only compare to watching stars in summer. 

Xavier’s little things:  

Will put extra pieces of meat on your plate, or any food really, when you are not looking. It’s magic the beef strips on your plate have multiplied, miracle. You caught him once, and he looked at you like a deer in the headlights, small panic. You slowly turned your head, keeping your eyes locked on him for a moment. He put some extra food on your plate and pretended he was innocent. And when you asked, he didn’t know what you were talking about — sir you were caught red handed. You started pretending you don’t see him next time. 

Cuddles - that’s it that’s the tweet. No matter where you are, or when you are. Brushing teeth, yea he’s cuddling you, chilling — cuddly one. Watching movies? Only in his arms. 

Naps. Always, everywhere, all the time. It’s just so safe with you there. He will struggle through the whole day if you want, but if you are fine with the power naps? You are a part of them, always. He will mumble your name in his sleep as well, hugging you tighter. 

For the safety (of everyone involved) you cook together. And when you do, if you swat his hand away from pans or pots, he will clean, or just stand there cuddling you (as mentioned before) and watch what you are doing. Careful, this might include random neck kisses. 

Will bring you snacks, cut watermelon, fruits, crisps, candies — you name it. They will just appear before you. 

Reading the same book, if you are into reading, if not, but you do something else (scrap booking for example) he will read for you out loud. It randomly started, you were relaxing, tea on the side, your hobby before you, just having a rest-no-stress type of day at his place, and Xavier just started reading aloud. You were having your personal live audio-book provided by him, if you have no attention span when you do something other than listening, it will be this calm background noise that soothes you more. “She did what?” your head snapped to him when he was reading. His gaze landed on you, a small smile on his lips as he repeated the last sentence he read. “She did not” now that was a plot twist, and a stupid thing to do by the main character. “But, he loved her since chapter 2, how dare she” you stood up and sat near him, head on his shoulder. “What’s next” your eyes were on him, and he kissed your forehead before continuing this outrageous book (you loved it at the end). Your eagerness made his heart beat faster. 

Zayne lives for the times you visit him for longer than a day. You see it in his eyes. What you see as well are all the small things that make parting with him so much harder. You are not even going out of the city, but it feels like it. 

Zayne’s small gifts of love: 

Will remove food that you don’t like (probably vice-versa — save this man from the carrots). If you cook at home, the things you don’t like (and he might) are never on the menu. Just don’t ask him for carrots, have mercy.

You have something to catch up on? Or you simply indulge yourself in a hobby? You are taking breaks, and the best kind! Breaks for kisses. “I have your tea” a mug is placed on the side, when you are absentmindedly looking through references for a new fun project. Suddenly a hand cups your face, and you have a dozen kisses planted on your face, and then the final one is placed on your lips. “What are you looking at?” You chat and every so often you are getting a kiss. Kissing break. It might be a prolonged break.

He replaces (slowly but surely) all the small things for the ones you have chosen — spoons are now nice and rainbow, mugs only the cute/funny one you have bought with him/for him, snowflake shaped bottle stoppers neatly placed in the cutlery shelf. 

Random massages. You might be watching something or reading, each in their own space, and suddenly your legs are in his laps, massaging your calves, foot, if you wiggle and place a hand in his hand, it will not be spared from the massage, pressure in all the right places.

Cooling your drink. You don’t have to ask, in the middle of summer, your glass is always chilled, it can be there for 10 minutes, an hour, or two — it doesn’t matter. He passes by, bends to your glass, and goes where he was headed. 

Walks that just end up on small dates. Oh you went for your evening walk? There is this place with desserts, seasonal ones just got released. Oh morning jog — it is now a lunch date. There is no escape, you can always get takeout and get home to enjoy a quiet setting. Maybe even light a candle. 

Caleb is on cloud nine. He is there to pick you up ready and with the widest smile. It can be a visit after a few days apart, or a month, it’s always the same reaction. The way the days together feel makes it impossible to leave with ease. 

Caleb’s little gestures: 

Will eat your left overs, he just does. It is small, and maybe not everyone would appreciate it, but you do. There is something sweet in it, as he dives into whatever you give him. Oh you want that dessert, but you know you are able to fit maybe a spoon? Not a problem, you order up, he will finish for you gladly, no guilty feeling that food will go to waste.

Will unshrimp your back. The lovely feeling of being bent backwards on someone’s back? Yea that little stretch? Caleb will gladly lend you his back, anytime, just ask. You swear if he didn’t hold you, you would just melt off the curve of his back onto the floor.

Will lift you up, swirl you around and continue what he was doing. It’s random, you are just watering a plant, off you go into a twirl, a peck stolen, and he disappears. You are left giggling and confused every time.

You will eat on time — this is a thread and a promise. Whatever you want to cook with him, or he does it himself, it doesn’t matter. Your favourite dishes (with extra balanced additions) are going to be prepared, served and eaten. He will look at you expectantly as you take the first bite. “How is it?” he would look at you, his hand on your leg, you feel the squeeze when you answer him. “Delicious” you are in a culinary haven and you know it. Spoiled like that no other food will ever taste good. He wants to make you an addict for sure.  

 Hobbies together. You are into something, he will as well, and vice versa, he will include you in whatever he is doing. Making models together, maybe making jewelry? He would be capable of helping with that, or maybe even sawing, if you are into it, he will hold the things if that is all he can do, but he will be there. Anything that you can think he is up to, just don’t forget him.

 Notes, if he has to work when you are there, he will leave you notes. Everywhere. In the pocket of your coat, on the fridge — he buys a whiteboard — on the mirror in the bathroom, in your suitcase, you call it, there is probably a note there. They can be small, short and cute, or lengthy and full of love that almost makes you tear up. “You were smiling so cutely when you were sleeping.” “Every time I see you snuggled in bed, it makes me love you more, even if I didn’t think it was possible”

Sylus will look forward to your visits silently, he will not text you excitedly that he is waiting, he will not tell you that he missed you. He will just look at you with devotion, sharp eyes never leaving you for a moment when you step through the doors. He can be quite handy when it’s time for you to leave, wiggling out can be an issue. You can bribe him, that is really your only chance. 

Will randomly lift you in his arms. Are you tired from work? No walking. Feet hurt because of the new shoes? Goodbye ground you are carried wherever you need to go. But it is not this only, he will just randomly lift you, no reason. You were standing near a bookshelf deciding what to read, and suddenly the floor is gone from under your feet, and you are in Sylus’ arms.  “Hey?” “Hello, kitten. This is new” he hands you a book. Leaving your questioning expression without an answer. Another time you were peacefully standing near the kitchen, waiting for water, and off you went from the ground. “You are in the way” he says, and walks to take a mug from the cupboard he could have just walked to from the other side. You are now a prisoner, he just holds you waiting for the water to boil. Maybe he is flexing, maybe he needs a weighted blanket while standing?

He spoils you, that is no news to anyone. It is not the big gifts, dresses, jewelry, etc. It’s the small things. You mentioned you were looking at a new phone charm? Let’s say you like Mephisto (I mean who doesn’t) he will buy/order custom made charms for you. You saw a plushie that was cheap as water, but you didn’t have a hand to grab it at that time? Yea, it’s waiting for you. You saw a pack of band aids with flowers — he has a few packs for you ready. Small silly things you mentioned once.

You do something to show him affection — maybe you like chomping people, maybe you just like randomly hugging, maybe you will lovingly tussle his hair — he will pick it up and return the love, if you react positively the first time he does it.

He will make a custom playlist. You said you liked a song, he will put it into a playlist, it’s maybe not as fancy as vinyls (he will get them into a vinyl form at some stage don’t worry), but he has a list. He will as well, put all the songs/compositions that are special for both of you. He has a playlist with the music you first danced to, songs that played in the background when he gifted you that dress/piece of cloth or something else that made your eyes lit up. He will not miss a piece from the OST to your love. 

Trips. He will plan trips with you. You don’t have to be prepared, you just have to be there. It’s all he needs. It doesn’t have to be another country or city, it can be the new resort out of town, or just a hotel with a new spa. Or just a walk in the botanical gardens and a stop for a picnic. It will take a whole day of adventure. 

Hands on you at all times. A hand on your leg, hands interlined when you sit on the coach, hand on your shoulder, slow strokes, lazy. He doesn’t even register it until you want to move away. 

[otomegamesforlife]

00:40.

I feel like a lot of people forget just how romantic rafayel is and can be.

Because sensuality comes with ease to him. He's a creature from the deep, incarnated in the body sculpted by the waves that break harshly against the rocks close to the shore, with the facial features of a god, surely hand painted with care by sea nymphs.

And before being something worthy of unending worship and adoration, the kind you'd drop on your knees, pray, praise, and bowl in respect, Rafayel is an artist.

Beside the inextinguishable flame in his heart, there is the burning passion of performing. Not literally, but Rafayel is something big, meant to be seen. Love and seduction come with ease to a being like him. His tongue is sharp but always drips with honey when you need it the most, and his bicolor hues burn with nothing but pure, genuine dedication.

So when you call him after work, voice low and strangled like a tormented sailor during a harsh storm, he listens. Waiting for the right moment to lure you in like a siren. Not out of malice, never, just the urge to tend to your troubled, seafarer mind.

And once you arrive at his studio, dragged in by his lovely voice, he's already waiting for your arrival in a silky robe, a bottle of wine in one hand while the other holds two crystal glasses.

Moonlight peeks through the thin, light fabric of the curtains adorning the tall windows of the studio. He guides you to the bathroom, and you wonder for a moment how much air can his lungs actually hold in. His humming, lullaby like, never stops.

His steps are light. If it weren't for his sweet voice, you'd barely be able to spot him in the dark corridor. The bathroom door is ajar, letting the candles’ flames finally give you a proper view of your lover.

You don't process if it's tiredness, his voice or both that make your brain grow foggy and your eyes droopy but you pay no mind, giving yourself entirely to him as an act of trust, a prayer to the one you worship with fervor.

His hands handle you with genuine care. His lips meet the back of your neck, and his nose fits just right on nape. Like a piece of a shattered porcelain art piece that slowly comes all together once again.

With his help and guidance, your dirty uniform falls on the floor. Your bare body is barely illuminated by the shaky flames burning the candles’ wick.

You're the first one to sink into the warm, scented water on his stupidly large tub. The atmosphere is too cozy, and soon, your mind finds ease and well-deserved rest.

Rafayel's eyes stare at you with a loving gaze. The intimacy that doesn't necessarily need to be sexual to feel good. That's where he feels at home.

His siren melody falters, giving space for a chuckle to leave his throat once he notices your sleepy form.

Silently, his robes come undone, and he joins you on the bathtub, a glass in hand. Sipping the velvety liquid, he guides your limp body closer to his, worried you'll slip and choke on soapy water while sleeping.

Rafayel is a sly, smart siren that lures you in when you need it the most. Rafayel is the artist that has you as his muse. Rafayel is the man who puts on extra performances like this as acts of praise.

And he wouldn't have it in any other way.

I wrote this in an hour while watching tiktok uhmm

[otomegamesforlife]

Falling for you

A full 5 LIs on how they fell and how they asked you out, simple as that :) # No beta we die like men I might come back to see which atrocities against English language I committed. Maybe. 2am might not be the peak time to write right now lol

Falling in love can be smooth and easy, timid and slow, or as fast as lightning. The trickiest part comes after you realize that something comforting is filling the space between you and another, because how can you now make it clear that the dynamics will change? This step always comes with a question — will you go on a date with me?

Xavier fell in love slowly, steadily; it was not a sudden arrow to the heart, nor was it just one thing that sent him to his knees. He fell in love with the consistency of you. Just being, showing interest in the unexpected parts of him, ones he sometimes forgot about. One he would prefer no one saw, yet you dig them out, you spotted them easily like he finds weak points when sparring. You didn’t keep them to yourself; you called them out, letting him know you know. And then — nothing changed. Not in the way you behaved, not in the way you smiled — and that, that drew him in. 

It started with closer observation, paying attention, and being in the same room more often. Talking with you between missions and after them came naturally to him. Then, standing closer — barely not touching — tagging along with you for coffee, or just to do a patrol. He never realized it fully until something happened, you got hurt, or maybe sent on a mission alone. The tightness spread in his chest, protectiveness kicking in — not controlling, but present. In the same way a bird would watch its chicklets' first flight, ready to catch it, but letting them feel the wind in their wings. We always seem to notice what is close when there is danger near.   

“We can go after work,” you were talking with a coworker, a new hunter, near your desk. They seemed weird, like your inner radar was not content with their presence. You tried to find an excuse, it was what, the third time this month they asked you out. 

“I am still a bit sore from the fall, maybe next time.” This was getting like a routine, and you were running out of excuses. 

“Then maybe on the weekend?” they chimed in, very blatantly clueless or blind to your body language, crossed arms, leaning away from them. 

“She said no.” Xavier appeared behind them like a silent storm, voice calm and steady as always, but he seemed… more awake. 

There was nervous laughter, stepping to the side, but still no hint was taken, and you were slowly planning what was the best place in the office to stage an accident. ‘Just a dinner’ echoed once more between you, but this time it was met with Xavier’s gaze.  

“If you want social dinners between the team, you need to speak to Jenna,” he said, moving just a step closer to you. “We have plans. Together.” There was pressure in his words, one that finally went through clearly to your colleague. Too clear, as he looked between the two of you and backed away. No, no wait! That was too clear of a not true message. 

You blinked and looked at Xavier, almost as shocked as the newbie was moments ago, now scrambling away.

“Xavier… he will start gossiping,” you exhaled, but just shook your head when he shrugged, looking at you with those stupidly mesmerizing eyes. “Thank you for the help.” 

He shifted his weight, hand on the back of his neck, ears dusted pink. It was half-heardable, just enough for you to catch the last sentence he murmured. “.... give him a reason to gossip,” he cleared his throat. “There is a new hot pot place,” he said, clearer and with a small smile “Do you want to try it out this weekend?” 

“The new one we got fliers last time we went on patrol?” the excitement distracting you from the mumbles that took you aback. When he just nodded you mirrored the gesture. “Yes please!”

“It’s… a date then” he said, and walked to his desk leaving you there, blushing. What? 

Zayne didn’t notice at first, for all the discipline he had to have — he needed, he wanted — he somehow missed one element sneaking into his life. It never seemed you had the intention of charming him or making him question his perfect status quo or wanting more. And he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed by it or alarmed. Maybe both, maybe neither. You didn’t use his routine; you were the unexpected rainbow in the sky — he could explain when it might happen, but the accuracy was never a hundred percent. What he was sure of was that you were never a quiet presence. Even if you weren't speaking, scrolling through your phone, or reading a book, he could sense you loud and clear. It was like his senses were tuning themselves in without his control, and that made him uneasy in the beginning.

You had someone close in the hospital, someone who had to go on visits now and then, but it wasn’t life-threatening. He was coincidentally helping out on a usual day when the staff was short, and from then on, it seemed it was a point of honor for you to at least say hi. He tried to pull away, just for you to make sure to knock on his door. Seeking him out at most random (in his mind) times. Offering him something sweet — pure bribery, not really, as you never wanted anything in return. 

Then he noticed you were reading something familiar, and his pulling away became harder. The sweet bribes turned into book recommendations, then a sporadic lunch breaks in Akso’s garden. Against all odds (not really - thank you Yvonne), you got hold of his number, asking beforehand, as one always should, if it was alright to chat outside the hospital. The attempt to build distance all but evaporated after that. 

“Doctor Zayne, the results you asked for are in.” Yvonne walked into his office late in the evening. 

“Thank you, Yvonne,” he said, looking at her from his screen, waiting for the rest of the news she had, the results could have been simply send to his email; they weren’t THAT urgent, and she knew it. There was also a smell she brought with her. 

“I also have a delivery. (y/n) stopped by with a fresh batch of muffins.” She handed him the pack, and he raised his eyebrow — it was a smaller pack than usual. Wait, when did they change to a first-name basis? “Those were specifically for you; we got ours,” she added, seeing him eyeing the box. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the fact that she read through him.  

“It’s not the healthiest to eat sugar so late in the evening,” he said, putting the box to the side, ending the exchange, in his mind anyway. He looked at her again once there was no movement. 

“Is there anything else?” he regretted his question once it was clear she had been smiling like she knew something he didn’t. 

“She just went to visit her relative. You should be finishing for the day, doctor.” 

“I will be after I finish those reports, Yvonne.” he didn’t understand why she said that; she was well aware of his working plan. 

“I will hold her up for twenty more minutes,” was her answer to the question he never asked. He looked at the box. He could at least thank you in person; that was what the etiquette dictated. 

He was done with the report in fifteen. 

He just heard the hushed ‘there he is’ when Yvonne smiled at you and walked back to the reception desk. 

He had the box in hand, stopping to thank you for the treat, he would have gotten away with the sweet crime of indulging himself with one muffin, if not for a bit of cream that was visible on the box. 

The giggle you let out was sweeter than the treat offered. He forgot, just for a second, that you were still in the lobby.  

“There was a place opening in town with the blend you mentioned. Would you like to visit it with me?” he said, not seeing when Yvonne stopped rustling around, now leaning on the desk not so subtly. 

“Yes! I can recommend a few good mixes.” Your face lit up, like the sun after a rainy day. 

“If you don’t mind, I would appreciate the company of someone with more expertise,” he agreed, slowly turning to the exit with you. 

“Then, it’s a date,” you said, all too excited at the prospect of the upcoming visit to notice him stop. You were still going on about the different leaves that mix well, oblivious to his pause. 

“Pay up,” a nurse’s voice sounded, and he turned his head when Yvonne scoffed. 

“But he invited her. She was just too quick.” 

“Doctor Zayne?” Your voice pulled him back from planning a lengthy talk he was going to give Yvonne on gambling with what appeared to be blatantly his dating life.

Caleb was curious. But, not at first. He ignored the signs in the beginning; he was good at that, rationalizing things the long way around, keeping himself on a tight leash. Stopping himself, thinking — no — he was sure, he could control the curiosity long enough for it to pass away like a dream in the morning light. Maybe he lied to himself, insisting that the world around him was too dangerous for anyone other than him. Yet there you were, orbiting near it, without even knowing he existed. How could he not be intrigued?

One peak here, another there, subtle at first. Observing from afar, from a safe space. All in the name of safety, of course — your safety. Because how someone like you ended up in the fleet was beyond him. Too tender, a fitting puzzle to its place, yet from a completely different set.

He swore he didn’t want anything other than to monitor the situation, so when your paths crossed, it was his downfall. He fell hard, trying to catch himself way too late, the feeling flying off like spatter in the air. By the time you began talking outside of the hangars, he knew your routine and much more. He understood his feelings too well.

He ‘bumped into you’, so he told you anyway. You couldn’t even imagine he knew where you would be on your day off. That was a plan that brewed in his little noggin. Cup of your favorite drink, he memorized and learned by heart, on a lazy errand run, like every other Saturday when you weren’t on duty. 

Who would he be if he didn't offer to help when you mentioned you needed to grab some materials from the DIY store? He was heading that way anyway for some paints and glue for his plane models. The simple quest for the needed supplies turned into a long walk and a discussion on both your hobbies. With banter that came as easily as breathing, something you found surprising. 

His plan didn’t end by just tagging along with you for some time. 

“We could grab lunch. I know a place, “ he smiled, still holding onto the box you brought like it weighed nothing. And the time flew by with jokes and light teasing. Something he was looking for, a way to peek at the way your eyes brighten with mischief, timid yet, but something he planned on exploring. A side even he didn’t know. Making you laugh and seeing as your smile spread on your lips, it was so hard for his gaze to return to your eyes with effort that you thankfully didn’t notice. Or maybe you didn’t mind. He hoped you wouldn’t mind in the future. 

The lunch passed with jokes and giggles. The weeks of talking opened a part of him that made you feel at ease — but not naively, you both worked for the fleet and you were aware of his reputation, even if he probably didn’t know much about you, so you thought — blessing of ignorance. 

He walked you back to your car, helping you pack the shopping, but refused the lift you offered; he still had things to take care of. And you would think that it would be it, an ending to a good, friendly outing.  “Soooooo,” he started when you were ready to get into the car, making you pause, head tilting in question.  “So?” you smiled, wondering if he was up for another banter, or if he was going to ask something. He shifted his hand on his hip, the easy way he did when he was off duty; the boyishness of it was refreshing.  “This was basically a date, right?” That made your mouth drop a bit, blinking not in confusion, but in realization that slowly washed over. He never waited for you to recover, not giving you a second to compose yourself, as a blush bloomed on your cheeks — damn, he was right.  “Wanna try a real one?” 

Rafayel always guarded himself. His thoughts, his emotions, his privacy, as much as he could with all the fame that followed him around. Maybe that was why he was stubbornly in denial once it hit him. And it hit him hard. It was like a truck just isekai’d him into this state of pure awe. His breath stolen, his eyes following you slowly. It was like the whole universe took a rain-check for existence in those few minutes, until you looked in his direction, and he turned away, almost walking into a wall, trying to get out of the room as soon as possible. 

But once in sight, once in mind. There was no escape, no matter what pout he would put on. He tried waiting it out like a sailor would when encountering a storm at sea. But being a sailor is such a weak comparison to what he was. The Lemurian heart knows what the Lemurian heart wants. 

He found you, over and over again. Just to see if he was imagining things, and every time he was proven wrong. Still, it was a choice to follow these feelings.

“We need to stop meeting like this, cutie. People will talk.” He smiled seeing you at one of his exhibitions, it was the only reason he was here. There was an amused smile already creeping on your face before you even turned to him. He saw it, basking in it for a moment. 

“You can always pretend you don’t see me and walk away.”

“And leave you alone? Looking that stunning without at least complimenting you? That would be a crime.” He watched, catching every small gesture, your ears turning pink. 

“Thank you for not being a criminal.” 

How many times did he stop you like that already? When did the reaction turn from surprised eyes to this lovely cherry pink? The same hue he was able to create from shells found on the beach — the same that was the dominant color of the centerpiece in this exhibition. 

“Shall we?” he offered his arm. 

“People will talk,” you used his words against him with a mischief in your eyes, the same one that sent him into a painting frenzy weeks ago. 

But you didn’t tease further and took his arm, letting him lead you further into the halls. Listening to you as you described the paintings to him, always in a way he wouldn’t expect possible for anyone but himself. You saw the paintstrokes and created a whole story, reading from his art like you had some secret decoder in your mind. It was not fair that his art spoke to you that much. He just had to shush any excuses you were still throwing around. ‘Not being an artist’, ‘but what do I know’, ‘I would be a terrible critic just bubbling on and on’. He enjoyed it too much. 

He always held his breath when one of his pieces got a comment of being ‘lonely’, pulling you away from it before you start reading the truths he was not ready for you to know.    

Because what if he is just too much and not enough at the same time?

When Thomas dragged him to the side, telling him about some boring art event that he wanted him to attend, or something like that, he was too focused on your hand on his arm. Thomas paused then, noticing the absentminded stare of his client —you were the only one listening — and the silence made Rafayel face him properly. 

“Maybe you would like to tag along? I heard they have the moving exhibition you mentioned last time?” He offered, but before you could say anything, Rafayel piped in. 

“I will pick you up,” he beamed. This opportunity made it so much easier for him to spend time with you. He will paint whatever Thomas wants after that. 

“I… am not sure I don’t want to impose.” You were hesitant, but he just waved his hand, like swatting away any of those ridiculous thoughts you might have. 

“It will be a fun date, don’t worry about anything,” he snapped his fingers, like the idea was brilliant in itself, trying hard not to lose himself in the way you shied away with this blush turning from cherry pink to Indian red, how many colors can you still show him?  “You just need to be packed and pretty. Which shouldn’t be a problem, you always are.”

Sylus’ fall was swift but not instant. It started merely by watching from afar, a new face not quite fitting into the place. A feeling of familiarity that made his eyes wander to you lazily, not tracking you, focusing on you when you stepped into his line of sight. The feeling hit him when you did something unexpected that made him pause — frozen somewhere between confusion, amusement, and a hitched breath of excitement. He didn’t like the feeling; he preferred the harsh things that made him cold to the warmth of a weakness. So he kept it close, under his usual self. 

It was an accidental meeting at first, outside whatever mess life was. A stop by the antique store, a meeting in a restaurant, or somewhere he needed to be for business — one of his coverups that needed monitoring. The pretense of not knowing each other, making it into a game. And he loved a good hunt.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” you heard behind you, the abrupt end of the conversation you had made sense. He had that effect, and he wasn’t one to pay attention to small games that couldn’t take the pressure. Your furrowed brows made him chuckle. Such a fussy kitten, angry that a mouse got away. He didn’t even have to try too hard to convince you to join him at the bar, the auction having a delay, which soured his mood until he spotted you in the crowd of nobodies. You always talked carefully, but the way the teasing could reveal a bit more of your nature made it worth the little innocent slip he did now and then. Fueling the fire was never so entertaining. The only thing more enjoyable was the way your eyes shone when you started talking about an item you were looking for. He never saw you bidding for an item on those auctions; it seemed a mere glimpse was enough to sate whatever desires you might have. He didn’t force that to reveal itself, not yet.

“Let’s say, kitten.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight something that was becoming a habit, this pet name that fitted you all too well. “I will get you your shiny toy.” He didn’t look at you, swirling his drink like he was deciding between taking a sip and setting it down. “If you are willing to do something for me” There was silence that stretched, and he saw you calculating. Excitement in the tapping of your heel on the back of the seat, the way your eyes focused on him, but not really looking, too busy imagining the possibilities, pros, and cons, was adorable. “What… What do you want me to do? Because I can tell you right now to shove it if—” “Calm down, sweetie. I merely want some of your time.” “Ok, but nothing weird, right?” You narrowed your eyes, and he almost choked. Where did that mind of yours go? His chuckle made some people around say their last prayers before moving discreetly away. He had to stop himself from imagining what you thought about. “I will buy you your toy for a simple dinner. Me, you, a restaurant above the city. If the night feels right, maybe we will even go for a joyride.” “You… Want a date as repayment? One date?” you stared at him like he grew horns and a tail. He saw the exact moment your brain short-circuited. “I need just one date. You will come for another” “You think you can woo me with one date?” “You think I can’t?” he smirked, voice laced with amusement. “Would love to see you try and fail” “You will love the way I don’t.”

[otomegamesforlife]

hello there! :D

may i ask for ypu to write aboyt the LADS men comforting you when you feel ugly cuz of a newly wound on your face? i just got cut really, really bad on my left side of my face and im feeling kinda ugly.

i mean, i see the badass vibes, but i still feel weird cuz it will leave a permanent scar on my face so i just need a little bit of comfort about it.

love everything you write, have a very nice week.

warnings: none needed, some angst, mentions of facial scarring a/n: not proofread, did my best to keep this accurate, I hope you feel better anon! And this may have been said to you a lot but beauty goes beyond what someone looks like! But I understand how hard it can be when society keeps saying 'put your best face forward'.

.ೃ࿔*:･LaDS men reacting to you having a facial scar...

.ೃ࿔*:･Zayne:

Zayne is no stranger to scars; his arms and hands are full of them, and he knows how long it took for him to come to terms with the fact that they'd never fully heal. He'd overseen your care personally, and you'd tried to be upbeat, tried to be thankful you're alive, but the scar was a reminder of everything that went wrong that day.

Zayne didn't force you to look it, nor did he keep up a continuous stream of positivity, which you appreciated, because you were just not in the mood to be positive right now. Instead, he kept you on track with your medical routine and frequently asked how you felt, pulling you into his arms when you were about to cry. You avoided looking into the mirror, except for when you had to apply the medication and change the bandages.

Now you sit in front of the vanity in your shared bedroom, eyes closed, as Zayne helps you with your nighttime skincare routine, gently massaging the rich cream into your face, his hands cool and soothing on your skin. You try not to flinch as you feel him brush the surface of your scar; it didn't hurt, but you hated that it was still there. Observing your reaction, Zayne kisses the top of your head.

"Don't look until you're ready darling. I'll keep watch until then."

.ೃ࿔*:･Sylus:

He'd gotten revenge on the person who did that to your face, but the damage was already done. Despite having the best doctors on your case, the scar was permanent, a part of your appearance forever. You'd been hiding behind a facade, trying to act tough in front of Sylus. After all, he'd dealt with far worse injuries than this, but you also couldn't help but feel resentful of the fact that he could heal himself. Sylus would never have a scar because of that ability, and though you knew it was irrational, it pissed you off that he would always look flawless while you were stuck with this mark.

Sylus had embraced the scar, telling you stories about brave warriors who proudly displayed their battle wounds as a sign of strength. He'd done his best to keep up your spirit, until one day you'd snapped at him rather nastily.

You'd screamed at him, tears pouring down your face that he'd never understand the depth of your pain because every wound he'd ever had had healed like it had never existed. You'd told him to cut the bullshit because you would never be the same again. And he'd listened impassively, but his eyes grew progressively sadder with each word that fell from your mouth. When you'd finally said your piece, Sylus pulls out a small blade from his belt and puts it in your hand. When you'd looked confusedly at him, he'd put his cheek right against the blade until droplets of blood started to form along the edge.

"Mark me then kitten. I won't heal it this time. Then we'll match."

You'd shaken your head no and dropped the blade sobbing as he gathered you in his arms.

"Tell me what to do. I'll do anything to make this right."

.ೃ࿔*:･Caleb:

There was nothing that could change about you that could make you ugly to Caleb. But he shares your grief when you were told the scar wouldn't go away. He knows when he has to be gentle, but he's also a tough-love type of person. He practically raised you after all, and he wasn't about to let a scar ruin your impression.

"We're gonna be late pipsqueak, get your shoes on!" he calls from downstairs, but you refuse to move from the bed. After almost a month of being cooped up inside, Caleb had decided to take you to a carnival to get your mind off things, but at the last minute, you'd chickened out, sitting fully dressed, but dreading the idea of going out. Caleb had been patient with you this whole time, giving you your space, privacy, boosting your morale, and becoming an errand boy to accommodate all your needs. You wished you could force yourself to go, but it was hard, imagining all the people who would stare at you.

Caleb comes back upstairs, frowning. "The lines are going to get long if we don't leave now."

"I can't Caleb. I'm sorry," you murmur, unable to look at him.

"Oh pipsqueak. Cmon it's really not that bad." He tries to coax you and you shake your head adamantly. Caleb approaches the bed and you squeal as he hoists you over his shoulder, carrying you downstairs like a sack of potatoes.

"Enough! There's nothing ugly about you! Now you can stay inside forever, or, you can accept that this isn't going away and face it head on!" He plonks you onto your feet near the door, arms crossed, and waits, towering over you. "Now what's it going to be?"

You sniff, knowing deep down he was right, and start putting on you shoes and his face softens. "I'm not being mean pipsqueak, but it hurts to see you like this."

You nod, brushing away your tears. "I know."

.ೃ࿔*:･Xavier:

Xavier is sensitive and supportive when you get news that the scar will be permanent. He asks you how you feel about everything before making a decision. Staying in or going out? Hot pot or barbecue? Mario Kart or Splatoon? Anything you say goes.

He also offers you some unconventional solutions so that you don't feel self-conscious. Once your doctor had declared you fully healed, Xavier had asked if you wanted to buy makeup. At first, you'd hesitated at the suggestion, wondering if he felt embarrassed going out with you, but he'd shaken his head no.

"I only asked because you seem to be overthinking whenever we go outside. If hiding it is what you need to face everyone, then hide it for now. Or if you don't want to hide it, don't. Either way it doesn't matter to me." He gives you a tight hug. "I just want you to feel comfortable in your skin. How that happens is up to you."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his explanation and you finally admitted what you'd hidden for so long; that you didn't want everyone to know. Xavier had nodded and had come with you to the mall. The kind cosmetics assistant spent a good amount of time helping color-match you, and Xavier stood patiently next to you as he watched her work her magic, gently buffing the color corrector and concealer over the scar until it was barely visible. When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you realized you were smiling, something you hadn't done in a while.

Xavier puts his hands on your shoulders as he peers into the mirror, his own smile rivaling yours.

.ೃ࿔*:･Rafayel:

He felt it in the depths of his heart when that scar had been put on your face. How couldn't he? Your pain was his too. Which is why he hadn't pushed too hard in making you accept it. He could barely accept it himself, rage boiling deep inside of him when he remembered your retelling of what had happened that day. He blamed your team, he blamed your boss, he blamed everyone who should have taken some accountability for that day. Why was there less coverage? And why had they sent you alone?

The injustice of it all made him furious, but he never showed that side to you. Instead, he gently helped you with your recovery, changing the dressings, cleaning up the wound, and telling you that the scar would never change his love for you. It was only when you were asleep that he'd let his feelings show, spending long nights in the art studio, painting away his anger.

One night, you crept into the studio, peeking sneakily from the corner, and felt your breath catch at the sight of the painting. There you were, captured in striking detail on the canvas, except the part of your face that bore the scar had been painted to look like a garden in bloom. Long, pretty vines, all covered in flowers, were bursting from the scar, with little butterflies and honeybees flitting over them.

He turns as you approach, tears pricking your eyes, and beckons you to his side.

"Is this how you see me?"

"Yes. Because despite it all, you chose grace." He lovingly kisses the scar. "And that's a different kind of beauty, growing from your bad experiences."

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6 @xiaoderrrr @evansdmitri @decileste @williamafton@thesoftuglywrites @belt0-0 @snatched-bubblegum-bitch @wynter-lily @cordidy @delphiakira @ibreathesmut @thedeepspacecadet @mcdepressed290 @plzdonutpercieveme @williamafton26 @aenishas

[otomegamesforlife]

CALEB - we’re collecting moments (headcannons)

i ain’t even thinking of letting go, not even sometimes

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

when it’s raining and the ground is wet, he’ll carry you on his broad back so you don’t ruin your shoes.

caleb who comes home from work after you and notices while you’re sleeping that your skin is dry, so he puts lotion on you.

caleb always lines up your shoes properly when you carelessly kick them off at the front door.

he keeps your plushies at his place for when you sleepover, and tucks them in when you’re not there.

caleb will put on your shoes for you and do your laces when they become undone, so you don’t have to bend down and trouble yourself.

every time there’s a step or uneven ground, he makes sure to announce it to you so you can’t get hurt.

over the years, he has learned to braid hair. he still does them for you when he thinks it will go with your outfit, or when you request it.

you and caleb are on the train at peak hour. there are no seats and you are both standing by the wall. your fatigue and drowsiness consumes you as you fall asleep and lean your head on the wall. the train rattles and your head bangs against the wall lightly, which wakes you up. keeping your eyes closed, you continue to sleep—when you feel big arms circling around you. one hand is wrapped around your waist to pull you closer, and the other is holding the side of your head to shield you from the wall. at this small gesture, you smile. you love this man.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

a/n: the last one was inspired by my ex LMAOOO 😛

[otomegamesforlife]

World's most annoying couple goes on side quests 🪼🐟

[otomegamesforlife]

Only The Best

You’re carrying the bun (based on this TikTok)

Xavier was the most go with the flow person ever especially now that you’re carrying both your futures within you. Everything was an okay no matter how ridiculous it sounded. As long as he could cure his fascination with your growing belly.

“I could really go for something from the bakery down the street.” You groan as you put both hands on the curve of your back. Xavier blinked and nodded at you.

“I agree…” He trailed off staring at your protruding belly. You raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Something wrong?” You asked him your screwed up expression never leaving your face.

“Can I put my hands here?” He asked as he placed his hands on your belly causing you to let out a hardy laugh.

“You always do this! You don’t have to ask.” You try to stop laughing but it was no use as he sat there rubbing your swollen abdomen like a crystal ball.

“Also I’m going to a different bakery because I’m still upset with Charlie.” He mumbled softly so the baby couldn’t hear.

“Xavier! That was forever ago.” You scolded him but he scoffed, “And yet you still want bread from him.” He sassed before kissing your belly and going to get you a snack.

Sylus is on you like white on rice, no joke. He makes sure your water is filled and your vitamins are taken. He even sets up your pill container every week. He has you on strict watch by (take a wild guess) Mephisto. The incredibly overbearing bird reports everything to the leader of Onychinus. Don’t even sneeze around him because then here goes Sylus calling. You would think Mephisto had little birds of his own the way he’s breathing down your neck.

“What are you doing?” Sylus asked when he walked into your shared bedroom. You were trying to slip on your sneakers.

“Going for a walk—“ He shakes his head softly before calling out to the twins. You scramble to cover his mouth.

“Absolutely NOT. By myself. No one watching me I need peace Sylus.” You threatened quietly. He reluctantly agreed and watched you walk out of the back door.

Mephisto caws as he lands on Sylus’ shoulder, watching you waddle further and further into the garden.

“You know what to do.” He told the mechanical bird as it flaps away.

Long story short he ends up being spotted and now you’re making a flower crown for the bird. He wants to watch over you so bad then he can participate in relaxation.

Rafayel would NOT stop taking pictures of you. Whether you were done up or looking homeless, he snapped the picture. You were going to break that damn camera if it was the last thing you do.

“Rafayel if I hear that camera one more time, you’ll be carrying the baby.” You threatened making him gasp.

“I can’t catch these beautiful moments? What if you want to look back on this or if the baby asks?” He countered with his hand, that was holding the camera, on his hip.

“I’ll tell them daddy carried them and then say someone was a diva and wanted no pictures.” You sassed with your tongue out.

“Excuse me? They won’t believe you.” He argued back making you do a motherly pose as you fully turned to him.

“Wanna bet?” You challenged as you both stared at each other.

“I just want to paint you carrying them.” He poured causing you to groan. You gave in, sitting as still as possible as he painted you holding your belly.

“Ugh you’re so swollen it’s so cute.” He coos making your jaw drop. “You didn’t have to say that!” Your tone shocked almost offended if he were a stranger.

“It’s cute though! Really cute!” He encouraged you as he kept sketching. He’s lucky you love him.

Zayne is literally your PCP so he has to check on the baby. He even buys a tiny ultrasound machine to check on the baby three times a day. He nearly put you on bed rest last time he checked. He snatched the stethoscope off his ears as he eyed you. There were no restrictions since he was at work and you were home alone.

“Why is the baby’s heart rate elevated?” He questioned you making you shrug in offense.

“I don’t know.” You answered dropping your arms. He stared at you before pursing his lips.

“Did you have ramen? Don’t lie to me.” He stared at you making sure you weren’t lying.

“I didn’t I swear.” He hummed before checking your blood pressure. His jaw clenched as he removed the cuff.

“Were you stressed today?” He questioned before writing something down in your pregnancy journal. You tried to recollect your day but it seemed normal.

“No. It’s been a normal day.” He shakes his head before helping you up. “I’ll check your watch activity.” He said making your eyes widen but before you could protest…

“Someone did cardio today.” He said making you look away as if you saw something interesting.

“Maybe bed rest under my watchful eye will teach you the importance of rest.” His tone enough to make you go still.

“Zayne please.” You whined but he was firm on his stance.

Caleb doesn’t let you lift a finger. Don’t even try it because he’s quick to sit you down. Since he’s already got you down for nine or more months he’s determined to be the most reliable husband ever. He had the whole house baby proofed and you proofed so no one is going to get hurt if he has anything to do with it.

“What are you doing?” He asked walking into the kitchen. You sighed letting your head fall.

“Getting a snack.” You stated blandly as he walked closer to you. “In secret?” He asked as he removed you from the stool.

“You don’t let me do anything.” You groaned making him shake his head. “Because you’re carrying precious cargo.” He grabs what you’re looking for and sends you out of the kitchen.

Later you woke up in the middle of the night for something to drink when Caleb shot up like a sleeper agent as soon as you moved the blanket back. You jumped out of your skin to see your disheveled husband. His tired wide eyes met yours as he tried to coax you back into bed.

“You’re always walking around can’t you sit?” He complained as he led you back to bed. You pout at him.

“Caleb—“ He shakes his head stubbornly. “Just sit pips. I’m begging.” He said tiredly as he hands you a drink from his nightstand drawer just for you. He thinks ahead.

“This house is a prison.” You said blandly before chugging the water and then walking to go pee to which he was right behind you. He waited tiredly at the door for you to finish. No falling on his watch.

[otomegamesforlife]

Date night with him

Wanderers, emergency surgeries, looming deadlines, conflicting schedules and deepspace missions... How many obstacles must you overcome before you can have a nice date with your man?!

❥ ❥ ❥ Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus & Caleb x Reader ❥ ❥ ❥ Word count: 3.7k (roughly 650-850 each) ❥ ❥ ❥ Fluff, suggestive themes, implied sexual activities, alcohol consumption

Xavier — Yet another wanderer attack had rendered both your bodies rather sore. Going out and doing anything too adventurous was out of the question. Movie night at home was your go to date night activity and although you both enjoyed it, you had looked forward to visiting the street food market that was currently set up near Azure Square.

The collar around Xavier’s neck had been flashing red ever since you took down that last wanderer a few hours ago, he was exhausted and you sent him straight to bed when you came home…

When you were certain he was asleep, you slipped on your shoes and bravely headed toward Azure Square with a tote bag full of empty plastic containers. Your legs were screaming at you and you were certain your bruises were getting bruises every time you bumped into something. But, you were a hunter on a mission! 

The square was packed. You needed to move quickly and gather as many delicious treats as possible so you could finally go home and relax. Next time there was a street food market, you were taking a day off work, for sure. Xavier would love this! Bright lights, cozy atmosphere and lots and lots of delicious smelling food. You would have enjoyed it too if not for your beaten body. 

Meat marinated in fancy spices, seafood deep fried in something sinful, pastries with berries and chocolates… You were good to go! 

You had set up the balcony with blankets, pillows, electric candles and a laptop ready to play a recently released horror movie he had wanted to see. The starry night sky accompanied your efforts perfectly. Hopefully the food had remained at least lukewarm inside the plastic containers. Fingers crossed! 

“Xavier?” You whispered, as you slowly approached his sleeping form. 

Your fingers grazed his forehead checking for a fever, luckily he seemed ok this time. 

“Xavie, I brought dinner. You ready to eat something?”

“Sure… Why are you not resting?” He slowly blinked up at you with a pout that told you he was questioning why you had chosen to leave the apartment rather than snuggle up with him.

“Come with me.” You smiled and aided him out of bed and out on the balcony, revealing all your efforts to make date night special even if your original plans fell through.

“Starlight, how long was I asleep?” He questioned once he was able to take in what you had transformed the balcony into.

“Not that long, I’m just really efficient when I want to be.” You proudly beamed up at him and he pulled you into his embrace, placing a lazy kiss on your temple. 

You sat down crosslegged on the blanket and spread out all the different foods between you. Xavier picked up each and every box smelling the deliciously spiced dishes contentedly. Clearly you had made some wise purchases and the food was finished in no time, leaving you both full and satisfied.

The movie played in the background shrouding the balcony in eerie music and the occasional scream of some terrified character, but no one was paying attention to it. Xavier had you safely trapped beneath him with one arm under your lower back and the other next to your head holding himself steady. 

“Thank you… So much… For… Dinner.” He mumbled between kisses, never leaving your lips long enough for either of you to properly catch your breaths. “How… Can I… Ever… Repay… You?”

You had some ideas, but there was no room for you to push out any words. So, you let your body speak for you and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. 

“Mhm…” He muttered against you. Was it a wordless agreement to your implied actions or a moan? Regardless of his intended meaning, the end result would be the same and he happily paid you back.

Again… And again… And again…

Zayne — “I’m so sorry, darling. There is an emergency, I’m needed for urgent surgery.” Zayne’s apologetic voice quickly stated before he reluctantly had to hang up and get back to work.

There was a muffled ‘I love you’ before the incessant beep of the ended phone call rang through your ears. You were standing in front of the mirror all dolled up for a fancy dinner wearing new clothes and an excited expression that quickly slipped away. This wasn’t anything new… You understood, of course, you had to understand. His job was important, and you were so proud of all his accomplishments. Sometimes though, you wished he was a stay-at-home-husband instead so you could have him all to yourself.

You discarded your fancy outfit, pulled on some pajamas and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. Zayne would not approve, but this wasn’t the first time he had to abandon you at the last minute and this frozen pizza purchase was just you planning ahead for the inevitable. 

—

“Good morning, my love.” A familiar voice softly whispered before he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

“Zayne? What time is it?” You questioned, confused at the sight of soft sunlight grazing his features.

“It’s almost six in the morning.” 

“What? You were in surgery for that long?” You shot up from the couch, almost bumping your head against his. “How are you still standing?”

“I’m alright. The surgery went quite well, thankfully.”

“Have you eaten? I’ll make you something before you go to bed.” You quickly scramble to your feet, almost tripping on the blanket you were tightly tangled up in, but Zayne’s sharp gaze would never let you fall. 

“Carefull, darling. I might get my hopes up and think you’re falling for me.” You roll your eyes at his terrible sense of humor, but the smirk playing on his lips always gets to you.

“I was actually wondering if you wanted to go somewhere with me?” He asks.

“Now?” 

“Yes. After such a long shift I am absolutely certain that there will be no work calls threatening to pull me away. Also, I had really been looking forward to seeing your new clothes. Why don’t you go put them on?”

“It might be a bit overdressed for six in the morning.” 

“I didn’t get to have my date night, don’t deny me the pleasure of seeing you all dressed up for me.” 

“Fine, I’ll wear it.” You grumble in faux annoyance before making your way toward the bedroom.

“Good. I need to familiarize myself with the garment, its fabrics, buttons or zippers, only then will I be able to formulate an efficient plan on how to take it off you later without simply ripping it apart.” 

“Zayne…” You mumble feeling a blush creeping up your neck. He only chuckles at your flustered reaction. He loves seeing you like that. 

You walk hand in hand down the barren street bathed in cool morning air and the light of the sunrise. Almost everywhere is closed, but the café Zayne frequents is thankfully open. He opens the door for you and you’re instantly met with the smell of warm bread and pastries mixed with freshly ground coffee. Perhaps going to cafés early in the morning needs to become a more regular occurrence? 

You take a seat by the windows and Zayne starts digging into something with far too much sugar to be considered breakfast appropriate. If not for the lack of late night ambiance there wouldn’t be many signs to tell you that your date night had turned into a date morning instead. He was tired, there was no denying that, but he sorely needed this today. Needed you. 

Throughout the course of your breakfast you repeatedly caught him glancing at your sleeves, your collar and every hem of your outfit. Apparently he wasn’t joking when talking about making a plan for how to remove the clothes he almost begged you to put on. You never said anything about it, letting him conspire and plot to his heart's content.

You would gladly be a willing subject for him to test his theories on once you got back home…

Rafayel — “Rafayel, please! You promised we’d go out tonight!” 

“It’s not my fault, cutie. Blame Thomas! He won’t leave me alone.”

“Ugh… Can I at least come over?”

“Yes, please! I need my muse. Save me from this prison of deadlines and cerulean. I’m drowning over here.”

“You, drowning?”

“It’s a figure of speech. Don’t tease me, cutie.”

You chuckle at his very ill-fitting choice of words before gathering your things and heading to his studio. 

The familiar scent of seawater and paint welcomes you instantly when you enter. You slip off your shoes and socks by the door after ruining far too many pairs of socks by stepping in wet paint. No wonder Rafayel was always barefoot.  

“Oh, cutie!” He smiles widely with streaks of paint drawn on his face like he’d run his hands down his cheeks. 

Before you have a chance to react he pulls you in for a loving hug and kisses your cheek. 

“Why do you have pain on your face?” He questions once he pulls away.

“Cause you have paint on your face.” You laugh. Then you spot the splotch of blue on his bottom lip that likely transferred when he kissed your cheek. You reach out to swipe it away and he catches your wrist, keeping your much needed warmth on him.

“You’re messy, Raf.” His other cheek looks far too lonely for your liking, so you reach out to lend him more of your warmth. He melts completely into your touch and his tense shoulders instantly relax. “Are you ok?

“No. Every brush stroke feels forced, like I’m painting for a looming deadline and not because I have anything I want to say.” Which is the unfortunate truth.

“Can I do anything?” His heavy sigh and pouty face are enough to make you forget all about those continuously postponed date plans of yours. 

“I’m just happy you’re here.” 

You needed to distract him somehow. Get his mind to focus on something other than those deadlines, something that could reignite his flame.

“Why don’t you teach me?” You asked sweetly.

“To paint?” You nodded, slightly offended by his almost disapproving tone. 

He agreed to your request and fished out a small canvas for you to play with. You moved your brush in similar movements to how you’d seen him do it, although you felt half as graceful as he looked. 

“If you tilt your brush like this and angle your wrist a bit more –” He stood behind you, using his hands to correct your grip. “– there. See?”

You could feel him smile against your neck before he pressed a sensual kiss just below your ear. 

“It doesn’t look anything like yours though.” You sigh.

“It’s not supposed to look like mine, that wouldn’t be any fun. It’s supposed to look like yours.”

“Show me some more please.” He chuckles at your eagerness, but gladly assists you further.

Eventually he decides he’s guiding you too much and returns to his own canvas so you can watch him instead. Once he’s thoroughly engrossed in his own painting you slip away to the kitchen before returning with a neatly arranged charcuterie board balanced in one hand, two wine glasses in the other and a fancy bottle precariously held under your arm.   

“See, cutie? It’s all about finding the perfect balance of technique and composition, mixed with color and emotion.”

“Mhm.” You mumble with a mouthful of cheese and grapes. 

Before he has time to speak again you grab another piece of cheese and nudge it against his lips. He absentmindedly opens allowing you to feed him. Every so often you offer him a new piece of food and a sip of wine. 

Brushes glide across the canvas in the most graceful improvised dance, creating those familiar shapes of wild waves and deep waters. He’s completely immersed in his painting but he keeps occasionally offering tips and explaining his process. You listen and watch almost as mesmerised by him as he is by his creative process. 

“Hm. It’s missing something…” He ponders.

Suddenly his hands find your shoulders and your back is pressed against the wet canvas. He presses himself against you and tilts your chin up granting him access to your lips. Rafayel’s kisses are always fiery and passionate, but now there is an additional heartfelt intensity to his touch. Or, perhaps you’re just extra sensitive from the wine. 

The push of his hips presses you even firmer into the canvas behind you as the kiss deepens. You reach out with the intention of wrapping your arms behind his neck but he catches your wrists and holds them above your head. He’d normally only need one hand, but he finds himself needing a firmer grip on you against the slippery paint. 

“There. I’m done now.” He abruptly announces as he pulls away, leaving you utterly confused.

You’re quickly spun around so your back is against his chest, revealing the shape of your body immortalized into his painting.

“Thank you, cutie.” His attention is returned to you in the form of searing kisses along your neck and strong arms coiling themselves around your torso.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that the wine has little to do with your sensitivity, it’s just him. Just Rafayel.

Sylus — In the early hours of the morning you find yourself driving around the N109 Zone in its usual gloomy darkness. You hadn’t seen Sylus all week with your conflicting schedules and sleep patterns, so now you drove past all the mess and havoc determined to catch him before he went to sleep.

You had contacted his chef the previous day requesting Sylus’s favorite dishes and a bottle of fine wine to match. A tray precariously stacked with deliciousness sat in the middle of his empty bed and you couldn’t do anything but wait for him to come find you. 

“Kitten? What are you doing here at this hour? You should be sleeping.” Sylus questioned.

“I thought we could have breakfast in bed together.” You glanced at the spread in front of you that did not resemble breakfast in the slightest. “... Or dinner in bed. Depends if we’re judging by your day or mine I guess.”

“You’re too sweet.” He leans down and kisses you tenderly before slipping away to take a quick shower and change into something more comfortable. 

He returns wearing nothing but his favored dark robe and sits on the edge of the bed in such a way that causes the robe to slip slightly. The smirk on his lips and teasing glint in his eye tells you he is perfectly aware of his actions. But you’re not giving in, you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead you eat, drink and chat as if you were a perfectly normal couple sharing a romantic meal. He tells you about his day (night), but leaves out the more unpleasant illegal details, and you tell him about your plans for the day ahead. Your agenda consists of the usual stuff, patrol and reports. However there is a certain task you know Sylus will find particularly interesting

Undercover. Illegal protocore trading research mission.

“Oh, how convenient. It seems our agendas share certain similarities today, kitten. What information will you be looking for exactly?”

“You know I can’t tell you that, Sylus.” 

“Hm, that’s a shame. I suppose I could have just told you everything you wanted to know, but where’s the fun in that?” You roll your eyes at him, expecting nothing less from the big bad boss. “And as a bonus, we’ll finally get to have a proper date night.” 

“I don’t know if I’d call me secretly investigating your illegal organization a ‘proper date night’.”

“I guess it depends on what role you’ll play when you’re undercover.” He swipes his fingers along his bottom lip before he rests his chin on them pretending to be in deep thought. “If you plan to portray a beautiful seductress aiming to charm me out of everything I own, inviting you to dinner would be quite fitting, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sylus…”

“Who knows, perhaps you’ll have me so tightly wrapped around your finger that I simply hand over the key to Onychinus.” He teases.

“Oh please, we both know you’d do that right now if I asked.”

“Oops, you called my bluff. You’re absolutely correct, sweetie.” Sylus leans in closer and places his warm hand on your cheek. His eyes are overflowing with admiration and devotion as he pins you down with his gaze. Staring unabashedly at your lips he whispers against them “I am completely under your control.” 

His warm lips press against yours and you welcome them gladly. None of you dare break away, needing to be even closer. He pulls you into his lap with zero regard for his robe that no longer serves any purpose. 

“I’m ready for dessert, sweetie.”

Once you’re both fully satisfied, he drifts off to sleep and you reluctantly leave him as you get ready for work. You spend the following hours plotting your portrayal of the ‘beautiful seductress’ he suggested, eager to bring him to his knees again…

Caleb — Another stupid mission took him far into deepspace and away from you. There were so many things you wanted to show him, to tell him, share those silly little things from your daily life that were absolutely not interesting at all! You knew he’d care, that he’d want to know. So, you documented it. You saved all the recipes you tried and took a picture of the end results, even if it wasn’t particularly tasty. 

You took pictures of every sunrise (if you were awake for it) and sunset, jotting down your thoughts along with each of them. Sometimes you’d talk about your mood or how the day had been. Other times, when you missed him extra fiercely, your notes compared the colors of the sky to his eyes. Each and every time you came to the conclusion that the sunset would never be as bold or vibrant as him. 

Once the three weeks allocated for his mission neared the end you eagerly hopped on a train to Skyhaven so you could surprise him. You arrived a few days early, just in case. 

He’d most likely be completely exhausted so cleaning the apartment and stocking his fridge seemed sensible. The next two days were spent deepcleaning the already nearly spotless space. The third day was spent stress cleaning what you already did the day before, because he was late. He was supposed to be home by now…  

Then, finally, your phone rings.

“Hey, Pip-squeak!”

“Caleb! I’ve been so worried.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I called you as soon as I could. I’m ok though, I promise.”

“Are you home yet?” You ask, intent on keeping your location a surprise.

“No, I was actually thinkin’ of heading straight to your place.” You freeze. He can’t go to Linkon, you’re not there!

“Uhm, no, I’m really busy. Wanderers have been sooo bad lately.” Shit, you’re a terrible liar.

“Oh, hm, that’s a shame. I was really hoping to see you today.” He knew where you were. The second he stepped into the elevator he was surrounded by the faint lingering scent of home, of you. 

“Yeah, those pesky wanderers always ruin stuff, don’t they…” You were sprinting around the kitchen as quietly as possible, preparing some snacks and easy fingerfoods. Dinner would have to wait, he’d be here soon. 

“I’ve missed you, Pips. So much…” Caleb couldn’t contain his smile as he pressed his thumb against the keypad, unlocking the door only to be met by his favorite sight. The hurricane of a woman that you grew to become, but still his Pip-squeak. 

“Honey, I’m home!” He called out when he had gifted himself a few extra seconds to just stare at you.

“Caleb!” You excitedly shouted before leaping into his arms.

He held you tightly and kissed you like he’d barely escaped death and thought he’d never see you again. A feeling he battled far too frequently.

“I… Missed you… So… Much…” Each word drowned against your lips as he walked you both back toward the kitchen.

He gently places you on the counter and positions himself between your legs. With a firm grip on your hips he pulls you forward and presses himself against you. A sense of relief washes over both of you as the desperate need for closeness that has been eating away at you is finally somewhat satiated. You begin to peel away the layers of his uniform and he impatiently tugs at your sweater. 

The food and drinks you prepared before his arrival sit forgotten on the counter next to you, too drunk on each other to think of any other need than the need for touch. That is, until someone's flailing limb knocks over the opened bottle of wine sending it quickly towards its doom. Caleb rescues it just before impact with his handy evol and only a few drops of red are wasted.

“Hungry?” You question breathlessly.

“Starved.” He answers, before leaning back into your embrace.

“I meant for actual food, dummy. It might not be a fancy three course meal, but I did put effort into this spread.” You wanted to lose yourself in him so badly, but you knew that if you were able to be patient the reward would be much sweeter later. If you were lucky, Caleb might even beg oh so sweetly for your touch.

“Pips, please.” Oh, he’s begging already. 

“We should eat first, Caleb. Besides, I have something I want to show you.” You stare innocently into his eyes and it’s almost like you can hear the fight he’s having with himself inside his head. 

“Fine.” He eventually concedes.  

You reach out to lovingly pat his head “Good boy.”

He bit his lip and stared at you with a renewed sense of hunger as you casually jumped down from the kitchen counter and strolled toward the living room with food in your hands.  

“I let you get away with way too much, Pips.”

You only giggled in response before patting the spot next to you on the couch. He listened intently to your retelling of the three weeks he missed and offered commentary to the little slideshow of pictures you had accumulated in his absence. 

He’d be rewarded for his good behaviour later… 

AN: Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! If anyone is interested in being added to the taglist, let me know!

Taglist: @babyx91 @lemurianmaster @morrigan87 @dawnbreakerswife @sylusgworl @seraphimcollections @plzdonutpercieveme @dailydoseofanimeawesome @paneratargaryen4312 @sapphic-daze

ll Read more: Masterlist ll © Colonel Kaboom ll

[otomegamesforlife]

i’m LOSING my mind with king xavier,, i literally said i wasn’t gonna spend on the new myth but one look at the pics convinced me that’s not gonna happen 💔

also ! i know your requests are closed, but i wanted to ask if you’re able to do a smau where reader reacts to the lads new banner or something, like seeing them in their fits and thirsting/freaking out over them,, wherever you get the chance, no rush ! the idea just came up for me when i saw xav’s new myth 😵‍💫

𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 | LADS + when you see them in their summer outfits

warnings: suggestive, humor, I waited until the beach banner to do this bc I felt itd be better if I did this request for a mixed banner

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── xavier

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── zayne

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── rafayel

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── sylus

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── caleb

[otomegamesforlife]

ᯓ☆pranking caleb 🫧

ᯓ☆ you’re just so busy

ᯓ☆ who tf is j?

ᯓ☆ i didn’t send you flowers

A/N: If this is too corny… I WASN’T HERE!!!

🍎 Tags: @xiaprint @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @meadowinthesky @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine @carcelswaifu @blushofeve @whattnanii @ashirelle @sylvieisoffline @saturnquartz @dewmarionette @horanghaeegr @iconoclastoc @hilliserose @alyakhq @rina-lidou @celestialhoneycaleb @jeansdoll

♾️ Tags: @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple @sensual-study @sweetcalebb @asiaticapple @raemanova @awquaz @callads7 @floatinginaer @crimsonsylus @aquarianbeat @inutrasha94 @jadestone2 @lamogliedizayne @sylusqt @gktdh @nottodaynotrn @raendarkfaerie

creds to @/cursed-carmine for the dividers!

[otomegamesforlife]

boyfriend texts with the lads men

pairing ౨ৎ caleb, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb x f! reader

content ౨ৎ fluff, suggestive in most of them, sylus is extra sweet and doting, caleb is.. well caleb, needy xav, playful zayne, usual raf x mc banter

౨ৎ note: these are the kinda posts that keep my fun and whimsy rolling in this world of dark and gloomy (adult life)

ᯓ⭑ xavier

࣪ ˖ ❄︎ zayne

𓆝 ⋆. rafayel

໒꒱  ݁ ˖ sylus

༘⋆❀ caleb

© 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒚𝒍𝒖𝒔

[otomegamesforlife]

hii!! i love your work so so sooo much ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)

if you don’t mind me asking, could you write something about the LIs with a reader who plays instruments/is like… musically talented?i love playing instruments but i don’t really mention it because i’m kinda shy about it

of course, if you don’t want to do this, that okay!! this is my first ever request ever so i hope it’s not too much to ask!

i hope you have a lovely day ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚i am truly amazed by people who play instruments! i think it's one of the prettiest ways of expressing yourself, and i wish i could play at least something simple like the triangle or smt ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ thanks for the request, honey! ♡ it wasn't too much too ask, at all!

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚he's your number one supporter. come on, he's heard your rehearsals, both the perfect ones and those in which you made the same mistake over and over, so he can say he's been there from the start.

﹙♡﹚he sneaks videos of you while you play, just so he can rewatch them later and see just how blissful and concentrated you look.

﹙♡﹚whenever you have to play somewhere else and carry your instrument around, —if it is heavy— he'll carry everything for you. he wouldn't want your precious hands to get hurt.

﹙♡﹚he totally leaves cute notes and doodles on your music sheets, most of them saying how amazing you are and how you're his favorite artist ever.

﹙♡﹚obviously, he's a proud boyfriend; overly so. he'll tease you, but at the end of the day, he'll always remind you that no one is better than you. at all.

﹙♡﹚caleb will have you record unique songs or melodies for his alarms, his ringtone, his notifications… everything has to be for him only, and coming from you.

﹙♡﹚he asks you to teach him at least some notes. and when he finally gets them right, he swears you'll become a duet. he's serious about it, too.

﹙♡﹚he hides if you decide to write something for him. why? because he gets so flustered and red, and he doesn't want you to tease him endlessly, just as he would tease you.

﹙♡﹚—he also fangirls when you have presentations, but he always tries to play it cool afterwards— what do you mean by “was that a glow stick and a banner?” you're imagining things, pips.

﹙♡﹚having someone as talented as you by his side, so willing to share you art, your highs and lows, and —best of all— to his eyes only, given you're shy? ugh, what else could he ask for?

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚when i tell you this is a gorgeous, talented couple, i truly mean it. and rafayel sees you both as such, too.

﹙♡﹚you've seen how pretty his hands are? he takes care of them, and he'll take care of yours, too. no matter what it is that you play, he'll make sure they're soft and smooth.

﹙♡﹚he will brag about you constantly. he'll do that with very important people, and in quite the extravagant settings, too.

﹙♡﹚if you tell him to stop, though, he will. but don't worry about him embarrassing you, because the second someone asks to hear you or see you play, he'll smoothly say that's only for him to hear.

﹙♡﹚he told them you were musically talented, not that you were a performer for their undeserving eyes to see.

﹙♡﹚he doesn't mind that you're shy, as long as you do choose to share your art with him, and only him, if that is what makes you comfy.

﹙♡﹚however, he'll get sad if you decide to hide such a talent from him, because i'm sure he believes art is one of the purest ways to express yourself, and he's so, so open about his love for you…

﹙♡﹚on a different note, do feel free to use his art studio to practice —even better if he's painting or sketching.

﹙♡﹚he'll experiment with how differently your music affects his strokes, his mood, his choice of landscapes or designs, and he'll later on claim that the masterpiece was made by the two of you.

﹙♡﹚raf will definitely make sure he's providing a safe space for you to experiment, to practice, to create. his house/studio will soon become the coziest, most loving creative nest, if you allow it.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚loves it. he's fascinated. he knew you were exceptional, marvelous, extremely amazing, but this? he's smitten.

﹙♡﹚if he finds out by accident, he'll stare and listen, taking in your secret —not-so-secret— rehearsals and remembering the way your fingers or lips move against your favorite instrument, until you notice his intense, amazed gaze.

﹙♡﹚on the other hand, if you confide your talent in him and willingly show him, he'll still watch intently, but there's something warmer in his eyes.

﹙♡﹚he's proud, enamoured, touched. he understands art pretty well, especially music, so when you trust him with something as intimate as your art —whether original pieces or covers— it makes him feel warm inside.

﹙♡﹚he'll accommodate everything for you. you need a soundproof room? you got it. you need to install something, or need your own space to write, compose, or simply practice? he'll make it happen.

﹙♡﹚he won't ever pressure you into playing in front of others, nor will he mention your talent to people you don't trust. if it is something you want to share only with him, or even keep within yourself, then he's more than okay with that.

﹙♡﹚however, he would like to hear you perform from time to time, just so you get the recognition and praise you deserve.

﹙♡﹚if you insist on only needing his praise and no one else's… yeah, you'll get a standing ovation every time in sylus' living room, with just the two of you.

﹙♡﹚he will be sneaky and change your music sheets so you play something he likes when he needs to relax. come on, kitten, indulge him just a little, yeah? your music eases his old soul.

﹙♡﹚…do play something for the twins, too. they always peek in when they see you rehearse, and honestly? they're the most supportive audience ever; holding messy drawings and swaying to the rhythm every time.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚oh, he has a blast. when he finds out after sneaking up on you practicing, he gets startled at first. why would you hide this from him? does anyone else know? hmph…

﹙♡﹚but then he sees the opportunity of his life right in front of him. there's another thing he can share with you now —that isn't napping— and he's so happy about it.

﹙♡﹚if you play the piano, you have to play with him. like, right now. undust his piano, tell him what to play, make him remember how to. he needs it.

﹙♡﹚if you don't, and you'd rather play something else, he'll find a song that you two can play… after sulking, naturally.

﹙♡﹚i feel like he would understand not wanting to share your art with everyone, or being so open about it.

﹙♡﹚after all, the only thing that should matter is that it makes you happy; you don't need to impress anyone else…

﹙♡﹚but him, obviously. impress him. he wants you to put up performances, even if it is for him and the hoard of plushies he's surprisingly won after missing so many times.

﹙♡﹚he will fall asleep to whatever it is you play for him. if you are sweet enough to play something slow and gentle, he'll have the best dreams.

﹙♡﹚but if you play the drums or an electric guitar, rest assured he'll sleep like a baby. after all, you're lulling him to sleep in your own, uh… wild way. that means you can pretty much rehearse whenever you want without worrying about disturbing him.

﹙♡﹚he'll keep your little secret for himself, as if it were the most precious and shiniest speck of light. you can trust him to always listen, to understand what you want to convey, or to just relax by your side as you unwind and lose yourself in the melodies.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚he already knew; he'd seen your instruments lying around, and he'd also heard you sometimes when you thought he wasn't listening.

﹙♡﹚but he was always attentive, and nothing managed to calm him more than listening to you, especially when he came back from work.

﹙♡﹚if you decide not to tell him, he won't ask nor pry, but he will make subtle comments about how your practice was going, or if your hands needed a massage, until you finally confessed.

﹙♡﹚if you told him directly, he'd always linger a bit more when seeing you play, always taking in the way you move, the way you close your eyes, the way you enjoy yourself and seemingly forget your shyness for at least a few minutes.

﹙♡﹚and with no shame whatsoever, since he knows you already know he's watching. and even then, you choose to play so freely? ugh, melts him.

﹙♡﹚whenever he feels exhausted after a long day, he'll text you and ask if you could play for him tonight, it doesn't matter what.

﹙♡﹚that's his subtle way of saying he needs you, of saying you are —as always— his safe space, and even more so when you manage to calm his beasts down.

﹙♡﹚he'll also absently caress your hands, rubbing your fingers and checking on them without noticing. he knows they might hurt after a while, and he also feels useful contributing somehow to your art, even if it is by doing something this small.

﹙♡﹚if you ever decide to show your talent, feeling confident and ready, he'll suggest something small yet meaningful to start, like going to the hospital and playing for the kids.

﹙♡﹚but until then, zayne will enjoy your private shows and will always reassure you that, no matter what, you're the most talented and gifted in his eyes.

[otomegamesforlife]

Hey Queen! I had a request for non-mc that I think would be funny. How would the lads men help take care of non mc's fat cat. Like FLUFFY FAT CAT!!!! Maybe she asks them to babysit her precious cat while she goes away for a family emergency or something 🤔

Operation Chonk Watch

Setup: When you have to leave town unexpectedly for a family emergency, you entrust your most precious treasure to the guys,  your beloved, gloriously rotund, attitude-filled fluffball. She’s the kind of cat who looks like she swallowed a smaller cat and carries herself like a mafia boss, so the boys have a lot on their plates.

Pairing: LADs x Non-MC! reader

Genre: Fluff, Humour, slight Crack

Writer's notes: The moment I read this request, I instantly burst out laughing as I know Raf is going to have hell with the kitty. It also reminds me of one of bibbysstuff's more popular fanart, which I absolutely adore (so ur telling me....... this guy killed ppl.....??). So, make sure to give her some love whenever you can. Besides that, enjoy the read.

“Sylus, can you kitty-sit for me? Just a few days.” “…It’s a cat. How much trouble could it be?”

At first, she’s skittish, tail puffed, ears back, watching from the doorway like she’s measuring him up. Sylus doesn’t chase her; instead, he leans against the wall, arms folded, that trademark smirk tugging at his lips like he knows she’ll break first.

He occasionally tilts his head in her direction, making a low clicking sound just to see her ears twitch.

By the end of day one, curiosity wins, and she’s sniffing his boots, tail cautiously lowered but no longer bristling.

Day two, she’s not only in his lap, she’s sprawled across it like a ruler claiming territory.

Sylus stares down the cat like it’s a high-level Onchinus threat. The cat stares back, unblinking. “You’ve got some nerve, fluffball.”

He ends up typing one-handed, the other idly scratching under her chin while glaring at anyone who so much as glances at her.

During a strategy meeting, she hops onto the map table and plants herself squarely over the region they’re discussing, forcing him to shift documents around her fluff. When a subordinate tries to move her, Sylus stops them with a single raised brow. “She’s fine there.”

By day three, she’s trailing him through the base, weaving between his legs with calculated precision that almost trips one of the twins.

By day four, she’s strolling by his side, swatting at anyone who comes too close. Sylus doesn’t scold her; if anything, he looks impressed. When she hisses at someone blocking their way, he murmurs, “Good girl,” with the same tone he uses for his most trusted operatives.

During a call with you, when you ask how your precious cat was doing, he calmly replies: “She’s fine. Ate half my dinner, but fine.”

What he doesn’t say: she has her own chair in his office, and he now consults her during briefings.

Her opinion seems to carry weight, judging by how seriously he nods when she meows mid-meeting.

“Raf, I need you to watch my cat.” He visibly pales before your very eyes “Darling, I am a man of refined tastes. I absolutely refuse to lower myself to babysitting a four-legged predator masquerading as a pet.”

At first, she keeps her distance, glaring down from the top of the fridge like a queen surveying an unworthy subject. Rafayel glares back, chin high, as if refusing to be intimidated by ten pounds of fur.

Hour two: She shadows him from afar, her glowing eyes following his every step with an unnerving patience. When he turns, she freezes like a statue. He mutters under his breath, “Clever little spy.”

Day two: She dares to brush against his leg. He startles so badly he nearly drops a delicate porcelain teacup, then spends five minutes inspecting his trousers for stray hairs.

He swore she smirked at him.

By day three, she’s napping near him, tail flicking in subtle warning, while he feeds her from a ladle at maximum arm’s length.

He narrates the feeding process as though hosting a cooking show, because “surely this counts as performance art.”

Day four: She jumps onto the windowsill of his studio, watching him paint with a piercing gaze.

He pretends not to care, but his brushstrokes slow, and his posture subtly adjusts so as not to disturb her.

 By day five, she’s actively seeking him out, curling up on the arm of his chair while he works.

He sighs in defeat when she rests her chin on his wrist, forcing him to angle his palette awkwardly.

The second you get back, he shoves the cat into your arms: “Never. Again. She watched me paint. Judged me. I felt... inferior. And I don’t need that kind of humiliation in my own home.”

“Caleb, can you watch her? She’s an easy cat.” “…We’ll see about that.”

The first day, she assesses him like a new recruit under review, eyes narrowed and tail flicking as she takes her time to approach. Caleb crouches to her level, patient, letting her sniff his hand before retreating to a safe distance.

He doesn’t push; he simply goes about his business in precise, measured movements so she can observe him without feeling cornered.

By day two, she’s brushing against his leg as he preps her food, the faintest of purrs vibrating in her throat.

Caleb treats this assignment like a full-scale mission:

Step one: Analyze behaviour patterns in detail, making mental notes about her feeding habits and rest cycles.

 Step two: Optimize feeding schedule for maximum nutrition.

Step three: Enforce an exercise routine.

Exercise, however, lasts exactly three minutes before she collapses in a heap of dramatic defeat.

The laser pointer? She follows it once, then fixes him with a flat, unimpressed stare, as though telling him his tactics need work.

By day three, he’s experimenting with alternative enrichment, rolling treat balls, dangling feather toys at calculated angles, and even creating obstacle paths from furniture.

She completes each one at her own slow pace, then sits like a champion awaiting praise.

By day four, he’s carrying her around like a toddler, briefing her on Fleet protocol and upcoming tactical drills. He swears she listens, occasionally punctuating his reports with a questioning meow.

“She’s safe. She also needs a cardio plan.”

Two days later, you catch him researching cat treadmills, military-grade scratching posts, and feline obstacle courses.

You’re almost certain you hear him mutter something about ‘training the perfect co-pilot.’

“Xav, would you mind keeping her company for me while I'm gone?” “It’d be my honour.”

She’s cautious at first, watching from the corner with those calculating eyes, tail tucked neatly around her paws. Xavier simply sits nearby, speaking in his calm, melodic voice as he reads aloud from whatever book he has in hand. He doesn’t attempt to touch her, only letting his presence speak for itself.

By evening, her curiosity overcomes her reserve, and she curls beside him, chin resting on her paws, eyes half-closed in contentment.

Day one: Gentle brushing sessions paired with soft classical music, followed by sunlit naps on the windowsill while Xavier works quietly nearby.

Day two: More reading aloud, but now she edges closer, her purring audible even from across the room.

Day three: He spends an hour curating an “emotional enrichment” playlist, telling you over text that certain songs seem to make her tail flick in approval.

By day four, he’s in the kitchen baking cat treats from a recipe he found online, measuring ingredients with the precision of a chemist, chuckling when she hops onto a stool to observe his work.

Day five: He’s constructed an elaborate cardboard castle complete with arched doorways and paper flag banners, ceremoniously dubbing her “Your Highness” as he presents it to her.

She accepts the gift with the dignified grace of royalty.

You get a photo that night: she’s sprawled across his pillow, her fur blending with the soft blankets, while he sleeps diagonally to give her more space.

His hand rests lightly on her back, as if ensuring she feels secure even in dreams.

You swear he looks happier than in any official portrait.

“She’s family now. She’s coming with me.”

It takes all your strength to pry her from his arms, and you suspect she left with one of his sweaters tucked into her new castle.

“Zayne, can you watch my cat?” smiles “Sure. How hard could it be? You know I’m a bit of a cat person, right?”

On day one, she eyes him warily, surprising, since cats usually avoid him entirely. He doesn’t push, instead sitting cross-legged on the floor, speaking in a low, steady tone, his hand resting palm-up nearby in invitation.

She circles him twice, tail flicking, before finally settling just close enough that her fur brushes his knee.

By nightfall, she’s beside him, accepting slow, measured pets without bolting. The quiet delight in his expression is impossible to miss.

That night, she claims his bed, sprawling across the center like a queen. Zayne doesn’t have the heart to move her, so he grabs a blanket and sleeps on the couch without complaint.

Day two: She meows at 2 a.m., and he’s up instantly, making her a fresh bowl of water with exactly three ice cubes, crouching beside her dish to make sure she drinks.

Day three: He stands in the pet aisle for twenty minutes, carefully selecting gourmet wet food “because she deserves it,” comparing ingredient lists like he’s prepping a medical prescription.

By day four, he’s gone all in, a custom feeding station with her name engraved, puzzle feeders for “mental stimulation,” and a climbing tower taller than you are now decorate your living room.

She follows him from room to room, curling up on the back of the couch while he works or stretching out on the floor beside his chair.

He talks to her in a low voice, occasionally letting out a soft laugh when she headbutts his arm.

“She’s low-maintenance. We understand each other.”

Your fridge looks like it now belongs to a luxury cat hotel.

She ignores you entirely, following him to the door like she’s choosing him over you, and from the satisfied, almost smug look on his face, he’s not about to argue.

[otomegamesforlife]

SPLOOOOOOOOSH. OH FUUUUUUCCCKKK YES. Whoever edited them like this thank you so fucking much

[otomegamesforlife]

Zayne always responds to your silly, affectionate endearments. Even if they aren't always meant for him.

"Sweetheart, what do you have? No! Drop it, drop it!"

Zayne's thumb pauses over the spacebar of his keyboard. Has he done something to upset you? He only intended to send a quick email to a colleague before putting his device away.

"I'm holding my phone. Is something wrong, darling?" Zayne turns his head.

Ah. It seems you were preoccupied wrangling a savage beast. Your cat, who you swear is a little suicidal, keeps her jaw clamped shut, well aware she isn't supposed to be eating whatever she's hiding in her mouth.

"Huh? Oh, sorry Zaynie. Not you." A blue, chewed up cap plops out of her mouth after some struggle. How she got it? You don't want to know.

"I see that." Before she's able to snatch it off the floor, starting up a second round of wrestling, Zayne whisks the dampened plastic out of her reach.

"Should I put her in the timeout corner?"

"Dinnertime, honey."

Zayne could have been spared the embarrassment if he heard the usual popping of a lid. Unfortunately, he was a room over, missing the cat's food plopping into a stainless steel bowl.

"Dinner? Now? Weren't you excited for our reservation this evening?"

"Do you usually eat wet fish flavored mush, honey?"

"... I do not."

"Neither do I. Human dinner is still on the menu."

"Ew. When's the last time you had a bath, stinky baby?"

There was a prolonged moment of silence. Before Zayne's arm slowly unravels from your shoulders.

"I took a shower after my jog this morning. I shouldn't still have a smell."

He looks so embarrassed. Even the possibility of smelling so terrible that you felt the need to call him out on it makes him shrivel away from you, discreetly pulling his armpit away from your nose.

"I'm talking to the stinky demon that rules the house, Zayne. I love the way you smell."

"Oh." Now you've flustered him for a different reason.

"My love? Where are you?"

She's not talking to you. Don't respond.

"Honey? Can you hear me?"

You'll make a fool of yourself.

"Are you ignoring me, mister?"

Mister?

"There you are." The arms of the woman he loves wrap around him from behind. Her chin nuzzles into the warm pocket of his shoulder, holding him captive in her loving embrace.

"Busy working? Is it more important than me?"

"Are you implying I was ignoring you?" He plucks the mischievous hand wandering along his chest. Lifting it, he presses a kiss to each of her cute fingers.

"I was only waiting for your voice to call out to me, my love. I was beginning to worry you forgot all about your poor husband."

[otomegamesforlife]

Nail day !!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ in which you show your bf your new nails inspired by him

a/n : got my nails done today !! I feel so hot (did have to pay for them myself tho 😔 where's my sylus to pay for my things 🥀)

content warning : suggestive content, MDNI, lowkey horny Caleb, names are linked with Pinterest links of the nails I was thinking of, fluff, fem reader

ft: Sylus, Xavier, Caleb x reader (separately)

𓅂:.｡. slyus

𓆩✧𓆪 xavier

︎°ೃ࿔*:･ caleb

@myntrose 2025 - do not copy or translate

[otomegamesforlife]

7 Minutes in Heaven

Pairing: Lads LIs x Reader

Summary: 7 Minutes in Heaven is a teenagers game, it's not meant to be played as adults. Somehow you and your guy get roped into playing. How long does it take them to react and what happens?

Content Warning: MDNI (Sexual content below) 18+

A/N: I keep getting those edits to that one MSI song, so what better to do than make a fic out of it! I am deeply considering a JJK version (sound off in the comments if anyones interested)

This was ridiculous, a highschool game being played at an adult party. The party was your idea, you'd dragged him into this, adamant on needing company for the duration of the evening. Little did you know how sideways this would all go. 

Everything started off smoothly, you and him mathched outfits (his idea), made your way to the event, and did your rounds of inroductions and courtesy greetings. The night ran tranquily, a few drinks, a light buzz, the tantilizing feeling of being in the present company was intoxicating. 

You don't remember who suggested it, but everyone drunkenly agreed to it, you more hesitantly than others. The close knit group of people now sit circled together, all promosing to to 'play fair' and 'not get jealous'. An empty champagne bottle makes its way to the center, a token of your greatest fears coming true. You watch the glass bottle cirlce around, missing you several times by large gaps, skipping him by just a person or two. 

You wait with hitched breath as your turn rolls around. You place a shaky, lightly buzzed hand on the bottle. The hard shell cool to the touch, you curl your fingers and spin. You watch it circle around the group, passing friends, colleagues, yourself, and finally landing on him. 

Your mouth drops, eyes wide as you look to make a read on his reaction equally so. This was a childrens game, silly and lacking any meaning on your real relationships outside of this party. There was no need to get so worked up. Yet here you were, shaking like a dog as you find yourself locked in a dark closet with him. 

Rafayel | 2 minutes and 12 seconds 

Rafayel isn't counting the time as you stumle into the secluded wardrobe. He just takes his spot next to you, long legs splayed out across the small wardrobe. He smells like ocean water and chalk. It's all too consuming and exceptionally terrifying. 

"Miss bodyguard, we don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with." His hushed voice makes its way into your ear like a calming ocean wave. 

Your breath hitches, as you feel his fingertips graze over your thigh, its not sexual, but its ridden with tension. You swallow hard and turn your head to face him. Even in the dark room, Rafayel's face has an artistic effeminate luxory. A sharp jawline, with soft cheekbones, long lashes, and swoopy lilac hair; everything about him was basked in beauty.

You couldn't help your next move, delicately tracing his features between your thumb and fingertip. He lets you do as you please, not moving an inch, simply taking it in. Down his jaw and over his nose bridge, you can see his flushed cheeks from the soft glow of light emitting from the bottom of door. 

Rafayel wasn't counting time, but two minutes and twelve seconds in, his mouth lays claim on you. The kiss is soft, temptuous and reassruing, giving you room to back out, but he was entirely sure you wouldn't. He would be right. 

Hands find grip on expensive clothing, mouths collide into soft sensual kisses, as heat finds its way betwen your faces. Flushes of pride and embarassment emitting from you both. 

Rafayel holds your face with a tenderness you fear he'll regret. He craddles you with sincerity as his soft lips explore you; starting at your mouth then trailing down, your jaw, small incriments of your neck, and finally collarbones. 

"You are everything an artist dreams of." He whispers, chest heaving from exhaustion, lips still pressed to your sweat slick skin. 

Rafayel gives you a moment to readjust, not that he was counting (he heard the minute warning as you were pecking spots down his jaw). The door opens and your friends find no remains of the moment you shared. The only sign that lingers is in the heat of sexual tension that escapes the closet. That along with the small flush that still lines your face, and the small hickey that lay tucked away on the back of Rafayel's neck. 

As you exit the closet, Rafayel silently plans his next painting; a dark room, the only color in it two lovers sharing their private moment. After all, you'd always been his muse. 

Zayne | 6 minutes and 55 seconds

Zayne thought this game was childish, ridiculous at best. The night he anticipated was more serene than this, a couple introuctions to your coworkers, a few of those macaroons that always end up on his plate at these functions, and dragging a slightly inebriated you home. Instead, he's been tossed into a dark coat closet with you at the whim of people trying to 'spice' up the night. 

"Sorry about this." Your apology is quiet, more awkward than it's ever been with Zayne before. 

"Truly it's quiet alright." He mutters back, knees to his chest in an attempt to give you space in the tiny room. 

"You always end up in these situations with me, I swear. Next time I'm saying no." You try to laugh, ease the tension and all that. 

Zayne tries to give you a small laugh in consideration to your feelings, but his mind is elsewhere as you speak. The room is dark, but there is a faint light that barely seeps through the door. He's across from you, opposing sides of the closet with a perfect view of your face. A face he could stare at for years, if not his whole lifetime. Even when your laugh wasn't real, the way your lips curve up, eyes fluttering, he's entranced. 

"Zayne?" You pull him out of his racing thoughts. "We can just talk, or not talk, or-" You trail off. 

"You know I love nothing more than our conversations." He cuts you off with a low voice, pushing his glasses up as they slip down his newly sweaty face. 

"Okay then." You say. 

"Okay then." He repeats back to you, a breath caught in the air between you both. 

For the next five minutes you and Zayne find yourself in a sullen conversation; hushed whispers that live behind the doors of the tiny closet in your coworkers home. Throughout it all though, Zayne can't help but regret not jumping your bones the moment he stepped in here. The way you ramble on, the small giggles you emit, he may need a cardiologist of his own at this rate. 

As you hear a knock at the door, a thirty second warning, you smile at Zayne, unsure of whether or not he can see it, but you can't help but be happy around him. 

"I suppose we made it." You huff out a breath of relief. 

"I suppose we did indeed." 

With that, the door slides open and no one in the room is surprised that the precarious and dull Doctor Zayne hadn't made a move on you in the closet. What they don't see is the brief moment, as Zayne's tall figure hovers behind you walking out of the tight space, his hand slips, with doctor like precision over your waist. He leans just low enough to be at your ear before he whispers to you.

"Perhaps once were home, away from all of this, we can do more than talk." Your cheeks instantly flush and you have to hide the urge to drag Zayne back into that closet for the rest of the night. 

Sylus | 3 minutes 

Sylus likes to consider himself a patient man. There are only a few times in his life where he has truly lost his cool, most of which involved skeevy business man trying to take advantage of him. Right now though, as his body is intertwined with yours in this tight space, Sylus thinks both his hands won't be able to count how he many times he's lost it anymore. 

He did not intend on being in this closet, this close to you, but the N109 zones infamous criminal was not complaining. He knew the game was childish, a ploy for adults to feel youthful again, but as he sits here he's thanking whatever drunken scoundrel suggested it. 

Sylus is a large man, it's no secret. So as his sculpted thighs wrap around your waist, your face almost pressing to your chest, he feels like he could explode. His heart has only ever raced like this around you, the way you delicately move around him, treating him as a prized porcelain antique, he could melt. 

"Sorry about all this. I really didn't think this is where tonight would go." You're nervous and it shows. 

"Where exactly did you think tonight would go then, Kitten?" That nickname escapes his mouth like an all too consuming drug, it sweet, endearing, but it also makes you want to sink into him. 

The nerves wrestle through your body, but somewhere in there, a surge of honesty shoots out of you. "Certainly not a closet like a couple of kids." You admit. 

"Let's pretend for a moment, I wanted to indulge in these childish activities. What would you say then?" His voice is hoarse as it trickles into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

The tension is thick, his breath tickles your eyelashes as you tilt your head up to fully get a glimpse of him. Sylus is a patient man, so it takes everything in him not to wrap his hands around your face and pull you in. He doesn't move a muscle though, allowing you to make the choice for you both. 

Slowly, you find yourself indulging in his game. You learn forward, no urgency in your movements as you throw caution to the wind. Sylus wastes no time once you've made your choice, long hands curling around your body, one behind your head, the other on attaching to your waist. He kisses you like he's starving and you're the first meal that he's ever laid his eyes on. 

"Wait-" You pull back and Sylus can feel his heart shatter, the small whimper in your voice setting fear off in him. Did he make the wrong move this time? "What if we get caught?"

The breath he takes is miraculous, a smirk sliding its way only his face, teasing and sensual all in one breath. 

"Miss Hunter, we're adults." He squeezes your cheeks lightly between two fingers, dragging your face back to him the cold metal of his pointer fingers ring grazing your skin. "I do believe that is the entire point of this little game." 

You sigh, shaking your head and letting the sexual tension take over. You cut off the space that was previosuly you between him and settle onto his lap. Your chest presses aginst him, as the kiss deepens; you feel every rhythm of his heart beat, every breath he is trying to take desperately as you stradle him. 

Sylus tastes like metal and vermouth, two things you never thought would encapsulate your lustful side, but as the door swings open and you pull back from the soverign of the N109 zone. You’re quickly met with a trickle of blood dribbling down his lip. 

"I'm-" You mutter the trail of light exposing his face now as you both bring yourselves to your feet. 

"I don't wish to hear apologies Kitten, I have other sounds I'd like to hear tonight instead." He shoves past the drunken man who swung the door open ignroing the hasty goodbyes you cowokers try to give. You laid claim to Sylus, and he planned to return the favor. 

Caleb | 50 seconds 

Caleb had been teasing you all night. It started with making light of your childhood together with your coworkers. It quickly trailed to bringing his hand just a sliver too close to your ass. The Fleet Colonel was a teasing bastard and the smirk he wore made his intentions all too clear. 

When the game was first mentioned he tried to brush it off. Made up excuses about it being late and how you had an early day tomorrow. Somehow you both wound up playing and he did everything in his power to keep that bottle from landing on you every time (bless his gravity evol). 

Little did you know (or so he thinks), when your turn rolled around, he manipulated that bottle more than anything before. Now, the two of you stand in the closet together, bodies dangerously close as you feel his gaze all over you. 

"I have to admit something Pips." He can't hide his guilt for long when you look at him with those gorgeous eyes even in this dim entrapment. 

"You manipulated the bottle. I know." You retort, your arm snaking up his bicep, a faint squeeze around the muscle. "You think I didn't want you to?" 

Its immediate, the colassal shift in dominance as you bring him to your level, hand clutching his brunette strands as he presses his lips to yours. This tension had been building for days, weeks, months, maybe even years its hard to recall. With parted lips, you let Caleb explore a little deeper than the surface level and he can't help the small whimper he elictis. 

There's a slight pause, as he pulls back. You pout, feeling as though you just got to the good part. Caleb takes your hand and sets a timer on your watch. Now that he has the dominant position, he makes direct eye contact with you. 

"We have six minutes left, now be a good girl." He whispers before going right back to where he was, his warm tongue stealing your breath. 

As Caleb takes his time exploring the innermost part of your soft lips, you take the opportunity to drag his hands from his sides. While you two were always 'touchy' he tried to respect your bounaries, never moving unless given permission, a true solider and gentleman. 

You bring his hands to your waist, letting his tight grip settle into the flesh of your hips, fingertips burying themselves deep as he tries to contain himself. Your arms wrap around his neck again, fingers trailing through his hair as your bodies collide, fully in-sync as you writhe under his touch. 

The two of you go at it like animals, lewd sounds escaping slobbering lips, as small whines escape you both. Neither of you listens to the creak of the door, or so you assume, until Caleb extends a frigid arm slamming the door of the closet before giving brief pause to the rather erotic makeout session.

"You know Pipsqueak, I used to dream about this kind of thing way back when." He admit in a hushed whisper. 

"Let's see if I can make those fantasies come true then." You cup his face between your hands, lips reconnecting as you two essentially end the game. 

Xavier | 0.01 seconds

There was no discussion, just the building tension over the entire day that left Xavier incredibly pent up. He didn't want to be here, but he came for you, all because you batted those pretty lashes at him and he could never say no to you. 

This whole night was killing him, he's exhausted, eyes drooping as he watches that glass bottle circle. He wasn't even sure what he signed up for, but here he was being shoved into a pitch black space with you practically on top of him. There was no escape, just seven minutes of pent of sexual tension he needed to let go of. 

You on the other hand noticed how tired Xavier was, the exhaution taking over as he leaned against you as you sat side by side on the floor. You gave his hair soft strokes waiting on your turn, it was driving him crazy, and you equally so seeing him lean into your touch. 

As you were shoved into the closet by your closest friends and coworkers, you were irrevocably tense. 

Your hand lays on his chest as you tried to steady yourself as the door shut behind you. Xavier's exhaustive state took over as he places a firm grip on your wrist dragging you closer without thinking. 

"Xavier-" You're cut off by the muffle of the languid kiss he lays on you. 

He pulls back quickly, a slightly flustered expression. "I got carried away, sorry." 

"It's okay-" You pull him closer, if that's even possible at this point. "-keep going." 

Xavier pounces on the opportunity, lazy kisses trailing your jaw, as his grip entertwines you one hand on your hip and the other cupping your face. He works his way back to your lips, every movement is tantilizing, slow and methodical. 

Your bodies are pressed together, heat emulating off of both of you, a sheen of sweat becoming very apparent as your foreheads awkardly collide, both too far in to care, or notice for that matter. Its frantic, its lazy, it's everything as you feel yourself pinned to the wall of the closet, Xavier exploring a little more than your lips now. 

He pulls away, leaving a small trail of saliva on the flesh of your neck. "Am I pushing my luck here?" You shake your head, he can feel you desperate beneath him. "Well then, I'm pushing my luck, now." His voice is low, that usual sleepy demeaner mellow in ths very heavy moment, as he sinks to the floor, face aligning to your stomach. 

"Times up!" The door thrusts open and you throw Xavier to the side of you, trying to regain some composure. 

You both exit the closet, Xavier hanging behind you like a guard dog. As you retake your seats in the game circle, he leans over, his blonde hair tickles against you cheek. 

"What are you doing?" Your voice is soft as you turn to his sleepy gaze. 

"Pushing my luck, we don't stop halfway when it comes to these things right?" 

@ 𝔩𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔟𝔬𝔴𝔩 

✩✩𝓣𝓗𝓘𝓢 𝓘𝓢 𝓜𝓨 𝓞𝓝𝓛𝓨 𝓐𝓒𝓒𝓞𝓤𝓝𝓣 𝓘 𝓦𝓘𝓛𝓛 𝓞𝓝𝓛𝓨 𝓟𝓞𝓢𝓣 𝓞𝓝 𝓣𝓤𝓜𝓑𝓛𝓡!!

-DO NOT FEED MY WORK TO AI

<3 Lala