scenesniper

[scenesniper]

Hey! I’m the anon who request the idol!reader, I really liked it and I wanted to request hcs for a reader who does streaming?

When You're A Streamer- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: hihi again anonnie ! sorry this took a while to post this was sitting in my drafts until some ideas sparked up .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. this was such a cute and fun concept to write i hope this was okay and you enjoy ! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

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Xavier:

Your audience would already be familiar with Xavier. He would occasionally pop up in the background of your stream with snacks and water when you've been streaming for too long. He'll softly smile and wave at the webcam, give you a sweet kiss on the top of your head, and then quietly slip out of the room. Sometimes he'll be sleeping in the background of your stream.

Sometimes he'll fall asleep with your stream in the background which resulted to him having a ton of channel points.

You tried to do a cooking/ baking stream with him one time and it ended up in a disaster. Flour and other ingredients everywhere but the bowl. Your audience thought it was hilarious and wanted more content of you two doing that more often.

He would get jealous when he would see a lot of people simping in your chat but it would be okay because you'd ban them. Anything to keep your lovers mind at peace!

He loves it when you include him in your streams to play games or do other challenges. He does not get scared playing any horror games but if you do, he'll reassure you that he's right here to protect you. Your chat would be a mix of awe and jealously at you two in stream. He's also your good luck charm whenever you stream a gacha game.

Zayne:

You two would have the worst sleep schedules ever. He would come home late at night and you would still be streaming when he came home. Eventually he'll tell you to stop streaming for the day so you guys can rest together.

He loves it when you do a baking stream. He'll get to try all the sweet treats you try to make behind the camera.

His face never makes an appearance because he doesn't want to be in the spotlight but his lower half would be seen. Your chat would be down bad for his hands and you can't help but agree.

The type of partner that would make you yummy home made food or have your favorite food delivered and bring it to you while you're streaming.

He finds it endearing that you're helping out the hospital when you do charity streams or any charity streams in general. He'll bring you a ton of snacks and water to make sure you're energized because he knows those can be lengthy.

When he's comfortable, he'll join you for some games on stream, but the chat would only hear his voice as his face will stay off camera. You guys would play games like Overcooked or It Takes Two or Bread and Fred. Your chat would absolutely love his dry humor and would want you two to play or interact more during stream often.

Rafayel:

He would have a streaming set up for you somewhere in his studio so you're still near him. Your streaming room would be so cute. You two would have designed it together and your fans would end up wanting a room tour.

He would have your stream open on his phone or any device and he'll play it in the background so he can listen to your voice as he paints.

Rafayel loves to be included in general in your streamer career. He'll help you design any of your custom merch or help manage your social media posts, thumbnails, and anything that was creative.

You would do a variety of things on stream depending on what you planned out for that day. Sometimes he'll help you plan and give you ideas! You could play different games, reaction, and challenges. He would love it when you included him in stream and sometimes you guys would get to do couple challenges.

If you were to include him in stream to be your 'good luck charm' when you played a gacha game, he would be so cocky. If you ended up losing your 50/50, he would look at you as if it was YOUR fault.

Sometimes he'll appear in your stream by 'mistake' and your chat would be freaking out. He would bask in all the compliments about him in your chat and you would have to usher him to leave.

There would be a ton of fan edits of you two online. Your fans would eat up any of the content that you guys post together, things like outfit of the day posts with him or you posting his artwork. They just think you guys are so cute. He would also lowkey be judgmental of your fans fanart of you two.

Sylus:

When he found out you were a streamer, he would upgrade your streaming set up with the best materials.

Your chat definitely knew you had a partner. You'd say hi to him in chat and they would hear him in the background as you talk to him. Your chat would be so down bad for his voice and would want him to do a reveal.

He secretly wants to be part of your stream sometimes because they seem like fun, but unfortunately he has to keep his identity hidden. That doesn't stop him from supporting you though.

He's genuinely interested in your job and understands how important it is to you. He's also really impressed by how much you gain followers and in awe with how much your fans love you.

He would be your number 1 fan and your number 1 viewer on all your streaming platforms. He would gift you so much anytime you stream. He would also have so much channel points and would make you do the silliest things. He'll make you sing or dance and sometimes he'll end the stream so he can have you all to himself.

He'll text you to ask if you want this or that to eat or drink and he'll slide it to you off camera so you're well-fed and hydrated.

Will be your rock when you face an criticism or any rough patches in your streaming career. He'll provide a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on while offering supportive words to help you maintain confidence in your career.

Caleb:

He mostly built or helped build the pc and streaming set up for you. Lets you decorate the set up however you want as well as the room and helps you find things to decorate it with.

Definitely one of your moderators and bans anyone immediately the moment you say, “mod ban this-” done. You’ll look through your ‘request unban?’ list and it’s a bunch of your viewers that you don’t remember banning but Caleb def remembers and they’re definitely staying banned

He prepares homemade meals for you and brings them to you during your stream whenever they take too long and you need to eat. He’ll occasionally make a brief appearance, waving at the camera before stepping out.

Eventually he makes a social media account to create videos of himself cooking your favorite dishes and showcasing the meals he makes for you, only to help attract more attention to your streams like the supportive boyfriend he is. His intros would be like, “Cooking for my girlfriend, ( streamer name ) lunch for today :)”

One time you let him take over your game while you quickly run to the bathroom. He’ll humbly tell the chat he’s not really good at this game but ends up playing really well, helping you win the game and leaving your chat impressed

Eventually your chat wants to see you two more together so you both start doing a variety of fun streams like cooking challenges where you try different recipes, trying spicy dishes, or even doing a blindfolded cooking challenge.

He loves being a part of your other streams too, especially gaming. Whether it’s duo games or couple related ones where you have to work together or even compete, often times letting you win just to hear your reaction.

Reposts any videos of your streams whether they’re embarrassing clips of you or cute ones of you, which is a lot of them, and even the ones that the fans edit of you two together

[scenesniper]

your favorite aussie lawyer, but it’s american psycho.

[scenesniper]

Mermaid!Rafayel and his strange affectionate habits.

being in a relationship with a mermaid is pretty weird, rafayel has some weird habits!

a/n: alright, back by popular demand (somewhat), we have the rafayel version of this. i could make this into a series… i could just not gaf… i could also make a “habits while in heat”, but idk!

dragon sylus version

⭐︎

❥ he chirps! mermaid rafayel trills and chirps in various patterns as a subtle way of communication. you’ll hear soft, cute squeaks come from him when he’s happy or deep in thought. or when you pet his tail, he trills from the feeling of your warm hand on his cool scales.

you didn’t understand where the noises came at first until you realized rafayel was the one making them. the sounds are so different in pitch than his normal voice that it was surprising he could make them. but they were so cute that you never really questioned them, instead you took the time to learn what each chirp meant.

❥ he brings you many gifts. a common trait amongst mermaids is that they’ll go out of their way to collect trinkets to either court someone or make their current mate happy. rafayel isn’t really sure what you like as a human, but he definitely tries to figure it out!

he’ll bring you lost shoes or baby crabs or pretty candy wrappers in hopes that you’ll take some liking to them. but when you stare a bit confused at the piles of scrap that he gifts you, he decides he has to try harder. he learns that human women are not that different from mermaids—in that they both like shiny, pretty things. so rafayel’s makes it a habit to find coins and jewels buried in the sea and bring it up to you frequently as he can. you have no real use for these miscellaneous items, but you can tell rafayel is trying really hard to please you so you accept graciously. he chirps in excitement!

❥ he quite literally, suffocates you. never intentionally, no, but rafayel doesn’t know his own strength. human bodies are comprised weaker than lemurian bodies, making you the victim in rafayel’s affectionate embraces. it’s during these times that you’re reminded of just how big rafayel is. 8 feel tall in length, you’re constantly reminded that you’re a peewee who could be crushed by this mythical being at any moment.

rafayel does try to be gentle with you, though. he intentionally tries to tone down how passionate he is so as to not knock the air out of your lungs. he really can’t help it though, you’re so small and adorable he just wants to cuddle you and eat you up.

❥ he stares at you. rafayel isn’t too adverse in the human body, so at the start of your relationship he was very very curious as to what a human female looked like. it’s for this reason he the hates the fact that you wear clothes. all he wants to do is stare at you and ask what certain things are. to rafayel, this is a normal thing to do when you’re curious. to you, this is a little embarrassing.

the especially embarrassing part is when he stares at your intimate parts. he pokes around at your vagina with a curious look and the intent to investigate what the hell was going on in there. sure, mermaid anatomy was similar to human anatomy, but he’d never really seen a human female up close until you. the weird part is, he think it’s all completely innocent.

“so… this is clit right? lot smaller than i what expected…”

lick.

“rafayel!”

❥ he sings to guide you. it’s no secret mermaids have beautiful voices. you’ve heard some distant melodic voices from the sea in your time dating rafayel—but nothing compares to rafayel’s voice itself. the first time you heard it you felt like you were floating on air and transcending your body. it was that powerful. now that you’ve grown accustomed to the hypnotizing sound, though, rafayel uses his voice as a way to guide you.

when you’re on the beach looking for him or under the sea by the grace of his power, he sings melodiously to guide you in his direction. every time it happens you feel as if you don’t even need to think about the direction you’re going, that your feet just automatically know where to go even if you’re unfamiliar with the place.

❥ he has a cycle problem. rafayel goes through many physical changes throughout his lemurian life and that makes him constantly be in kahoots. one day he’s whiny and splashing everything with water, another day he can’t get his hands off of you and is extremely clingy, maybe one day he’s just really depressed and needs to be alone. it’s hard to tell what’s coming next with him.

but it’s also not just an emotional problem, it’s a physical problem too. sometimes, you’ll meet him and see that he’s two times bigger than usual (god almighty). other times, you’ll go in for a cuddle and feel his skin is all slimy and sticks to you. every time you ask about his issues, he always has a different explanation. it leads you to think, just how many cycles do lemurians go through?

❥ he has many nicknames for you. whenever you’re upset, he’ll laugh at you and call you a “baby pufferfish.” if you’re look extra pretty that day, he’ll call you “my pearl.” if you’re struggling within his grasp he’ll call you a “cute little minnow.” rafayel is incredibly affectionate and loyal, so all the pet names he uses on you he doesn’t use with any one else—even the human ones he’s adopted like “cutie” or “darling.”

one of his favorites, though, is the one he calls you when he’s in heat. “my nest,” he says whenever he has full intention of filling you with his eggs. it’s his way of telling you that the most precious and vulnerable part of him belongs to you, because you are a nest for his babies <3.

⭐︎

[scenesniper]

The Lads react to you lying on top of them and making biscuits on their titties

content warning: very demure titty fondling

a/n: i had a vision and wrote this down in like 5 mins

Xavier 💫

Not sure what you're doing but tries doing it back to you

You slap his hands away

Ok, so only you can do it, got it

Accepts his fate

Who is he to question his lover

Zayne ❄️

This is his life now huh

He opens his mouth to ask what are you doing and what's your thought process behind your actions, but then decides against it and closes his mouth again

This actually has a similar effect to an actual cat sitting on him, cause you look so content he feels too bad to tell you to get off so he can go do other stuff getting Zayne to rest lifehack

Rafayel 🪸

"Don't do this cat shit on me! Are you trying to gaslight me?"

"Gaslight you into what?"

"I don't know! Liking cats?! This seems like a manipulation tactic!"

"You're a manipulation tactic!"

You switch with him so he can make biscuits on your tits instead.

"Excellent argument. Carry on."

He flips you back over and lets you do as you please

Sylus 🥀

"Aww, is my Kitten making biscuits?"

"Silence, Tits McGee, I'm locked in."

He just laughs and lets you have your fun

Actually finds this to be pretty relaxing and ends up dozing off a little

Caleb 🍎

Oh this shit again

"Enjoying yourself?" He asks smugly.

"Your pecs have gotten smaller." You shoot back immediately.

He shuts up after that.

Carefully inspects his pectorals in the mirror that evening.

Isn't sure if they've actually gotten smaller but adjusts his training regimen just in case

[scenesniper]

Masterpiece

Rafayel calls it his muse. You call it excessive.

The portrait is massive—larger than life, dominating an entire wall in his art studio. It’s the first thing anyone sees upon entering, an unapologetic display of devotion, an impossible thing to ignore. The reference photo he used sits beside it, but the painting is more than a copy; it’s his interpretation, touched by the way he sees you, by the way he remembers that moment.

He made sure the sunlight hits it just right. Every afternoon, when the golden hour rolls in, the light catches on the soft folds of your pink dress, making the fabric shimmer as if you are standing there all over again, caught mid-laugh, eyes bright with something only for him. The effect is deliberate. He spent weeks adjusting the placement, angling the canvas, shifting the curtains until it reflected perfectly—until it looked just as radiant as you had that day.

It’s ridiculous, you had told him once, laughing as you leaned against the doorway, watching him study it as if he hadn’t painted every brushstroke himself. “You have the real thing,” you had teased, waving your hand at him, your smile catching the light. “Why stare at a painting?”

His answer had been simple. “Because I’ll never forget the way you looked that day.”

Rafayel is vain, arrogant, sometimes insufferable in his dramatics, but when it comes to you, there is no pretense. His love is loud, shameless, the kind that demands to be seen. He doesn’t love in halves; he loves in grand gestures, in overwhelming displays, in art that spills onto every canvas, in a studio filled with sketches of your hands, your smile, the way your dress moved in the wind.

His work is everywhere, scattered across the room in half-finished paintings, loose sheets of charcoal sketches—but this portrait, this one, is the masterpiece. The one he holds above all else.

Sometimes, when he’s working late, you find him standing in front of it, arms crossed, studying it with that critical eye of his. You step inside, arms looping around his waist, and feel the way he exhales, slow and content.

“It’s wonderful… you know that, right?” you murmur, your cheek pressed softly against his back.

His fingers find yours, squeezing gently. “It’s the closest I could ever come to showing the whole world how I truly see you.”

You shake your head, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Rafayel turns then, and as his lips meet yours—slow and lingering—you know, without a doubt, that he agrees.

[scenesniper]

LADS react to you asking them to set you up with someone else

This was a fun request. I might slip some dynamic duo rivalry here.. hmm.. maybe this is the same universe as loft talk. This is pre relationship prank!

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus (Rafayel)

"Hey, Sy. Can you set me up with one of your roommates?" "I don't have roommates." "? What do you mean. You have four roommates. I want the artist!" "No I absolutely do not. What artist?"

Would NEVER let you meet Rafayel, no matter what it takes. Rarely ever bring you back to the loft anymore.

Considered moving out of the loft and everything but stopped once you tell him it's a prank.

Xavier (Jeremiah)

"Xavie, is Jeremiah seeing anyone?" "I don't know a Jerry." "Jeremiah." "I don't know who that is either."

He gets SOOOO jealous (that's why we like him)

Why would you ask him to set you up with someone else. He's right there. He's perfect for you in every way. 🥺🥺🥺 - Xavier, probably

Rafayel (Sylus)

"Can you set me up with one of your friends?" "I don't have friends." "Yes you do! That Fruit guy breathtaking!" "You know what else is breathtaking? If I were to hold his head underwater." "Sorry?" "I said I am also breathtaking!"

He fish. Fish forgor stuff. Roommate? Who? Sylus? Thomas? Who???? What are you talking about?

Becomes extra mean to Sylus the next day and Sylus was so confused as to why is his bestfriend who is not his bestfriend seems to hate him more than usual!?

Zayne (Greyson)

"Dr. Zayne, can you set me up with Greyson?" "Why?" "Because.. I want to?" "His name is Doctor Greyson, and do you really want to..?" "Yes please! Set me up with Dr. Greyson!" "...." "Zayne?" "If that's what you want."

I don't think he's gonna try to stop you nor does he realize you're testing the waters to see how he feels about you, defeatedly gives Greyson your number, but Greyson was so confused because why would he hit up Zayne's girlfriend???

"She's your girl, Zayne." "She is not." "Yes she is, she's just testing to see how you'd react, dummy. Now go and actually ask her out."

Caleb (Gideon)

Before you start pranking him, you prayed for Gideon's safety.

"Caleb, can you set me up with-" "He's gay." "I haven't even said a name!" "Yeah, everybody around me is gay. I'm their ally." "Caleb!!!"

He'd frown and keep telling you why would you need anybody else when you can have HIM. He's the one who knows you the best! He knows how to make you smile! He's 100% your boyfriend material! 😤

[scenesniper]

omg you like Identity V AND King of Fighters?! 😭❤️🫶🔥i love you for that, my goat! 😭🔥❤️‍🔥

thank you anon hehe !!

i got into kof for a very short period of time (1 month and i was HORRIBLE AT KOF. i did K's combo once and then never could achieve it again..)

it was such an enjoyable past time but i would never touch it again😔💔💔 i was flopping BOTH ingame and my lab classes at the time 😭😭😭

[scenesniper]

Intertidal Zone

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Nightly Rendezvous card, but now we finally understand why rafayel was so desperate when he came back to the hotel room.

♱⋅── word count: 6.7k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, porn with some plot, the belt scene, slight exhibisionism, fem! masterbation, sooo much kissing, slight oral fixation, Lemurian mating bond, needy raf

art credit to @/khouxy on instagram

You swear Rafayel is doing this on purpose. 

The first time it happens is right after your flight, the two of you only just managing to check into your hotel and change for dinner.

It's a fancy restaurant overlooking the vast desert, and the outdoor patio offered a clear view to gorgeous sunset. Furious spirals of orange and vermillion cast their light across the sand, making it appear to glow as winds kick up waves of golden dust along the horizon.

It’s beautiful, almost as much so as the man across you, who is still staring longingly into the distance as though committing every color to memory. As if repainting it entirely in his mind. 

Not hues of warmth, but those of the deep sea. Blues and purples and colors so dark they’d only come to life in the night. 

“How’s your drawing?” 

Rafayel sighs at your voice, tossing his pen across the dinner table with a huff before leaning back against the sofa. A stack of crumpled sketches litter your table among half-finished plates of food. He insisted on traveling here to relax, and yet he seems to be doing everything but. 

“If a few lines count as a drawing, then wonderfully.” Sassy as ever.

He sighs again, but this one sounds more pained, and you notice the red tinge highlighting his ears and neck as he leans against your shoulder. 

“You still don’t feel good?” You ask, voice hushed as you place a kiss against his temple, the skin burning beneath your lips. Raising a hand, Rafayel immediately nuzzles into your palm as you pull his chin up towards you, feeling the rising temperature along his cheek and forehead. “We can head back if you’d like. Take a bath, or shower?” 

You hoped the together was implicit by now.

But Rafayel only nods, placing a chaste kiss against your exposed shoulder. “What about the sunset? I saw you admiring it, and squandering a beautiful view is unacceptable for an artist. It’s one of the greatest offenses.”

Rafayel’s breath is minty and dry against your ear, and when you turn to look at him, his face is doused in the fiery hues of the sunset, each one casting deep purple shadows that only make his features all the sharper, half his face veiled in darkness. 

Some days you wish you were an artist as well, if only to capture moments like this—to show Rafayel just how gorgeous he was. 

Perhaps it’s only natural for a god. After all, no mortal could ever need beauty so violently arresting, so worthy of worship. 

You’re leaning in despite yourself. 

Rafayel meets you halfway, one hand on your waist as the other traces your jaw and bottom lip. But as soon as you feel the brush of his lips across yours, he pulls away. 

You open your eyes in confusion. Rafayel’s never denied you before. 

When you look at him in question, he only gives you a tired smile and pulls you to your feet with a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll feel better as long as I’m close to you like this.”

The second time it happens is when the hotel reception mixes up your and Rafayel’s rooms, leaving you to deliver some sort of formal invitation to him. 

But the letter is soon forgotten; you can’t be bothered thinking about it, not when Rafayel still looks so absent.

He’s right next to you, knees brushing yours as you sit side by side on the couch, and yet he seems to be miles away, gazing out the window as the dunes shift and rise like waves under the moonlight.  

"I used to really enjoy scenic spots before," Rafayel says, voice barely rising above the hum of the heater. "Catching sights of subtle things that might be easily overlooked used to feel like enough. More satisfying than finishing a painting, even."

A laugh. Dry, humorless. 

His fingers grazed the edge of his glass, tracing the condensation absentmindedly. A droplet trails down his wrist. "But now, sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.” 

You watch him, waiting. He doesn’t meet your gaze.

"I think," Rafayel continues, "somewhere along the way, I stopped just... noticing things. And I started needing them. Like the world wasn’t worth looking at unless I could turn it into something. Capture it, hold it in my hands, and call it mine." He shakes his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "It’s not a very generous way to live, is it?"

"You don’t need to be generous with everything," you say carefully. "Some things are just... for you to enjoy."

"Enjoy," he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite fit in his mouth. A pout. "It doesn’t feel like enjoyment anymore. It feels more like... hunger.” 

Like he’s always fucking starving.

Rafayel finally turns to look at you, eyes eclipsed in the dark. Nearly dilated black. 

“Sometimes I’m afraid that if I feed it, it’ll only grow worse.”

You turn to face him on the couch, sliding your leg between his thighs before perching yourself on Rafayel’s lap. It’s not lost on you how his heartbeat picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as each shallow breath hits your lips. Perhaps it’s cruel, but you can’t help but touch him again, fingers tracing his full lips, up his jaw, fluttering against his eyelashes and into his hair.

“You think hunger gets worse when you feed it?" You finally ask, voice quiet, slow, daring to push back. "Doesn't it stop when you're full?"

Rafayel’s mouth quirks, a sharp, fleeting twist of a smile. "Not always. Sometimes it makes you realize just how much more you want. Or how much more you could take."

You frown. “You’re not demanding anything. Not from the world, not from me."

"Maybe not yet. But, if one day, I become someone who only takes… If I were like that, would you leave me?"

The confession hangs for a moment, the truth of it hidden. Something about the way his shoulders tense under your touch— like he's bracing for something, but it hasn’t yet arrived. A phantom pain from centuries ago, and a pain to come for a thousand years more. 

“Silly fishie, I’d never leave you.” 

Rafayel smiles in a way you know all too well, lopsided and teasing and empty.

“Thank you…” he hums, finally pulling you closer as his lips skim alongside the curve of your neck. “for accepting me the way I am.”

His breaths come out in desperate huffs against your skin, and he inhales sharply, freezing, before finally placing a kiss against the crook of your neck. And then another, and another. 

“You’re just anxious,” you whisper, sucking a mark into Rafayel’s neck as he moans so sweetly against your ear. “I can help you relax.”

You wiggle your hips to better balance yourself on his lap and Rafayel looks almost near tears, one hand forcing you still while the other grabs your wrist, trailing kisses from your fingertips back up to your neck.

More. You need more. Rushing, your hands fly up into his hair, about to tug Rafayel to lay down on the couch when a crack echoes behind you. 

The glass lays shattered against the floor. 

Panting, Rafayel stares at the spilled water for a long moment before pulling away. You feel his erection digging into your thigh, the warmth of his fever spiking yet again as his skin burns against yours, yet he still refuses. 

“As you said, I’m anxious…” Still panting, Rafayel picks you up, gently lifting you up as he stands from the couch. “Or, more like restless. In every sense of the word.” 

The need in his eyes almost makes your knees buckle. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he could ever crave, like a bite would both be salvation and leave him hungry forever. 

“But see, now I can’t stand the idea of letting you go again, and you don’t want me to either.” He sets you down just a little farther than necessary, but his hands don’t leave your waist, trembling, waiting. “What should we do?”

“Rafayel…” You want him. You want him so badly it hurts. 

“Fuck.” 

You nearly jump at that. Rafayel curses again, his head falling onto your shoulder as his breath hitches. “I can feel your concern. That and…” another convulsion, his body burning up. “Fuck. You have to leave.”

You don’t even have time to retort before you’re pushed out of his hotel room, and the door slams shut behind you. 

By the third time, you know something is wrong. 

It’s not that you and Rafayel haven’t kissed yet. Hell, you’ve had sex before. The last time was quite literally on the night before you were supposed to leave for this trip. Obviously, Rafayel suggested that you stay at his place for the night—insisting he was closer to the airport and getting an Uber would be quicker this way—and one thing led to another, as is what happens nearly every time Rafayel and you are left alone for too long. 

But now it’s been nearly a week and Rafayel has barely touched you, let alone picked up on your not-so-subtle clues. 

So yes, it's safe to say you’ve become rather pent up. 

You’ve fallen asleep in the off-roader the two of you rented out for the day, bobbing up and down the dunes like waves flecked white not with seafoam but snow. There’s a chill as you drift off, but your dreams are anything but, plagued with memories of Rafayel. 

His hands, deft and talented with a brush, are even more so when teasing your skin, knowing exactly how to trace delicate circles against your thighs before roughly curling into your cunt. His tongue, every smartass comment and teasing grin now silenced as he licks and sucks against your clit. His body, the warmth of it, bearing down on you with every thrust, or perhaps writhing beneath you as you take him again and again and again— 

It’s the cold that wakes you up. 

Your eyes flutter open, first noticing the dim light of the hotel parking lot, and second, the burning desire still aching between your legs. 

“Rafayel?”

A shuffle makes you turn, and you find said man still seated in the driver’s seat, unbuckled as he sits with his head resting on his hand. 

“Yes, cutie?” Rafayel’s tone is teasing, but the way he stares down at you feels like anything but. The hunger is back. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat. “How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You seemed like you were having such a nice dream, I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

You inhale sharply. Glaring, you try and see if he’s teasing again or being serious, but Rafayel doesn’t let you read him for long, already leaning over the middle console. 

He places his lips gently on your temple, brushing over the skin, and then moves down to your cheek, his breath warm against your neck. He whispers your name, so softly you almost think it was a trick of your imagination.

Your mind goes blank when he kisses your jaw, a small noise escaping the back of your throat as you feel his hair tickle your skin.

"Raf," you mumble under your breath, but you know he hears it because he exhales sharply against you.

Rafayel trails a series of kisses up your neck, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, cutie." His body temperature is rising again, and the air in the van feels dangerously thin as he sways in your grasp. "I'm trying."

The hunger is back, all-consuming and hot as you genuinely fear you might burn up. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you finally cup Rafayel's jaw, leading him towards your lips.

Yet again, he stops you halfway.

“Do you want to go back to your room first?”

At first you think he’s suggesting moving there before continuing, but you know better at this point. 

“You’re not coming with me?” 

Rafayel pulls out the invitation from before, waving it between the two of you as if all this was the letter’s fault. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”

“But you’re still burning up! Forget this, I can’t let you go out to who knows where when you’re still acting strange. Maybe we can see a doctor—”

“Cutie…”

“—No, no. Or maybe I can come with you.”

Rafayel says your name this time. Firmer. Cutting off your rambling as he places his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want me to turn into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes? Leaving me to suffocate when I come out of the water?” 

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, feeling his desperation in every word even as you struggle to make sense of it.

Rafayel continues, pulling away from you again. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise?”

“What kind of promise?”

A smile. “I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”

There’s no joke, no hidden meaning, just Rafayel who so violently hopes that this promise will hold true. 

So you relent. “Okay, just take care of yourself.”

Finally, Rafayel opens the car door, letting the desert night winds sweep in with a biting chill as he leans back against the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Rafayel promised he’d be okay without you tonight, but you don’t think the opposite could hold true. 

Not when the dizziness Rafayel caused remained. Not when you still feel the phantom touch of his lips and hands all over your body, burning you up, leaving you cold and empty and aching. 

You’ve been burning for the better part of a week now.  

Something stuck between a laugh and a cry of pure frustration leaves you as you fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is pathetic.”

Even the damned sheets smell like Rafayel, pillows deeply laced with his shampoo and the smell of his cologne—amber, yuzu, and something salty like the ocean—surrounding you as though this were his hotel room and not yours.

Desert nights were cold, but even the room's chill could do nothing to quell your desire, arms shaking with it as you quickly stripped yourself of your shirt and bra. The room spins as you stumble around, leaving your clothes on the floor, another delirious whimper seizing you as you sprawl against the silk sheets. 

You need him. 

Fuck, you need him, and you hate him for leaving you while the growing ache between your thighs threatens to swallow you whole.

The sheets are deliciously cool against your flushed skin, and you turn your head to rest your cheek in the cool embrace of the pillow. But it only needs a second to heat from your desire. 

And then the room is all too hot once again. 

Kicking off your pants, your hand snakes down your bare torso, leaving half-hearted squeezes to your breasts and hips, failing to replicate the touch Rafayel already has you addicted to. The memory only makes you more frustrated. 

A hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and fuck, you’re dripping enough to ease your fingers in already. You force yourself to slow down, rubbing slow circles around your entrance, the mere friction enough to have your hips bucking up against nothing. 

Inhaling sharply, you slide a finger into your weeping cunt, a moan pushing from your lungs as you do. Not enough. It’s not enough.

You force yourself to draw each movement out, the curl of your wrist accompanied by your muffled cries and the slick, obscene sounds echoing alongside your ragged breath. Withdrawing your finger nearly to the fingertip, two plunge back in this time, and your back arches off the bed with violent tremors as you imagine it was Rafayel's hand instead.

How he’d tease you in the early mornings to wake you up, how he’d take special care of every sensitive spot on your body, how he’d draw his fingers along your clit just the way that will make you come undone.

And as your fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you cry his name into the empty room is no different.

Your head is spinning, falling, your thighs shake, and it's not long before you're gasping out, "Rafayel, please.”

Still not enough. Every rough thrust of your fingers brings you higher and higher, but without the pressure of Rafayel's chest pressed to yours, or his hot breath ghosting across your ear, his voice, his lips, his touch—

Without him.

A sob rips from your throat, your hips bucking uselessly against the air as you fuck yourself harder, deeper. But your fingers are only so long, and your free hand, fisting the sheets, is unable to make up the difference. "No, no please," a whine, and your free hand rushes to circle your clit, the other picking up pace.

You're close, so close, sobbing his name when the dizziness from the car returns tenfold, overtaking your body in waves as your eyes roll back. "Please, ah! Rafayel, m’cumming-"

The world goes silent as pleasure surges through you, muscles convulsing, a choked, garbled sound escaping as you come. Collapsing back against the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, the stickiness of both the heat and your orgasm coating your thighs. 

There’s another tug, a violent pull against your chest, but the dizziness remains. 

You know you should change the sheets or at least move them aside, but you can’t manage to do either as you rush to shower before Rafayel returns from his friend’s exhibition. 

It’s only when you stumble into the bathroom that you notice it. 

Shit. This is Rafayel’s room. 

You must be trying to kill him.

Surely, this is the gods' cruelest trial—a final test of his resolve—to see if he’d bow once more, forsaking divinity and succumbing to the temptation of you.

Because it’s been barely an hour, and Rafayel has already resigned himself from the party, passing blank smiles and empty compliments as he quietly counts down the minutes until he can return to the hotel, when suddenly he feels it.

The tug of your bond flashes through his body as his dick aches.

Rafayel freezes mid-sentence, the polite smile he'd been wearing slipping from his face. The conversation at the bar around him, something about chiaroscuro in the artist’s latest piece, become muffled static as the chains tighten, digging into his heart. 

It’s unmistakable now. The rhythm, the rising intensity, the waves of pleasure that don’t belong to him but still manage to spark delirious heat up his veins.

Rafayel’s breaths quicken, body temperature rising as his Evol flickers out of his control. He glances around the room, feigning interest in the conversation, the glittering glasses of champagne, the faint hum of the crowd. It doesn’t work. The only thing he can focus on is you.

He should leave. Go outside, breathe in the night air, and let the tether between you both loosen, just to regain control. Just to prove to himself it’s not too late.

But the bond tightens, as invasive as it is intoxicating, demanding Rafayel’s attention like a leash coiled around his neck. It’s not gentle. It’s not kind. It’s primal, every nerve in his body pulled taut like you’re screaming his name over and over into the depths of his soul. 

It’s not fair.

No god can deny the prayer of a worshipper.

Your pleasure becomes his, and when Rafayel closes his eyes, he swears he can feel your phantom hands on him, dick already heavy and throbbing, leaking through his expensive trousers.

Are you in bed, thighs trembling as you grind against your own palm? Or maybe the shower, steam curling around you as you chase release? Or worse—are you riding something of his? His shirt? His pillow? Is this vengeance a cruel punishment meant to shatter what little resolve he has left? 

Shit. He’s hard.

“Hey man, what’s wrong? You good?” 

The slam of a glass brings him back. Gods, he hates these rich socialites. 

The champagne glass Rafayel was holding is now covered in cracks, blood trickling down his ring finger. He’s unraveling, composure fracturing with every pulse of your pleasure surging in and out as violently as a full moon’s tide. 

Rafayel looks up, smiling. “Stress. And apparently a very needy pet.”

The man laughs at what he assumed was a joke, but Rafayel sees his hesitation, the type animals give when they pick up rustling in the bush. Fear. 

Rafayel’s grin only widens, all teeth. “I should probably go check on her. Wonderful party,” he adds, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast before setting it down with a sharp clink.

As he steps outside, the desert air does nothing to soothe him. If anything, the dryness makes it worse as the pull becomes sharper, like you’re reaching for him, your need coiling tighter around his chest.

A growl, almost feral, rumbles low in his throat as he staggers down the cobblestone streets. He doesn’t need directions. He doesn’t even need to think. His body moves instinctively, guided by the bond, by you. 

Rafayel swears he can feel you all across his body, your heartbeat picking up as you get closer, the smell of your skin and arousal, the cries of his name that only become more and more desperate as you fail to bring yourself over the edge without him. 

You’re begging for him in a way his bond mistakes for worship, because Rafayel’s body feels like it’s burning. Like blood spilled on his altar, an offering of yourself to your god, your husband.

The thought that you might be doing so unintentionally only drives him further into madness.

But, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. A glimmer of something Rafayel hates to name but knows all too well: relief.

Because as much as he might deny it, Rafayel could never leave you. And now that you’ve reciprocated, now that you’ve begged for him oh so sweetly, he would gladly submit to his bond and become chained to you once again, forever at your mercy, unable to escape the inevitability of his fate.

He doesn’t even knock when he reaches the hotel room door. It swings open under the force of his hand, and the sight of you standing there—wide-eyed, startled, only in a bath towel—hits him like a blow to the chest.

There's a soft click as Rafayel locks the door. A hurried shuffle of shoes as he all but stumbles toward you, closing the distance between you in one hurried, unstoppable motion. A startled gasp as he grabs your face in his hands.

It's the last breath you take.

An arm wraps around your waist, blocked by only a flimsy hotel towel as Rafayel violently spins you around. Your surprise is swallowed by his lips as you’re pinned against the window, the chill of the desert snow, frosted against the glass, a harsh contrast to the burn of his touch. His hand pins yours at the wrist as he stares down at your fingers.

“Rafayel? What are you doing here?” 

The question barely gets out, not before he rushes forward to claim you in a kiss, if it was even that. A desperate, consuming need overtakes him, Rafayel pushing you back so insistently that your head hits the window with a thud, pain immediately distracted as his clothed knee grinds up between your bare thighs. 

Holy fuck, just a towel. Right.

You try to push him back, one hand pressing against his chest as the other flies back to tighten the towel. “Wait–”

Rafayel kisses you again. And again. And again. 

You can feel the cloth slipping.

But Rafayel makes it very hard to care. His hand traces your throat, your heartbeat, then drags you closer by your hips as he thrusts forward in time, still caging you against the window. He’s relentless, every kiss only broken with a ragged breath or gasp as though he’s given up on breathing entirely, content to consume you instead, his tongue sweeping against your lip before it coaxes yours to meet it halfway, licking and sucking into your mouth.

It’s obscene, animalistic, and you swear that there has to be something wrong with you because the dizziness is back, and this time it’s enough to make your knees buckle, the two of you blindly stumbling across the hotel room.

So you bite him. 

“Why–” Breathe. Remember how to breathe. “Why are you here?”

Rafayel almost looks offended, thumbing his bitten lip before licking away the smudge of blood with a lopsided smile. 

Fuck, he’s hard. You feel the heat of his cock jolt against your thigh, pressing into you as he surges forward again, kissing you as his hands squeeze and cup your waist, lifting you up.

"Why?" Rafayel laughs, roughly grinding up against you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "This is my room, remember? You’re the one who decided to come in here." He growls the last part, licking, biting, sucking at your throat. 

“Or was that intentional?”

The look in his eyes is feral. 

There’s no hesitation left, no half-riddled questions, no sweet praises, no semblance of your devoted lover. Just hunger. He’s rushing, pushing forward even with nowhere to go, almost in revenge. In punishment. Your teeth click together, foreheads bumping, unable to talk because when you try to open your mouth his tongue only slides in deeper. 

The wet sounds echo against your ears alongside your racing heartbeat, only causing you to grind harder, rougher, before Rafayel ungracefully drops you onto the bed. 

Your body bounces on the mattress, but it gives you a moment, and you scramble to cover Rafayel’s lips with your palm before he can begin devouring you again. 

“What I meant was, shouldn’t you still be at that art salon?”

He all but collapses into your touch. Lips parted, he grabs your wrist, tongue darting out as he licks up your middle and ring fingers, moaning against your skin. 

“I tried. I tried going, leaving.” He's panting, breathing in your scent before biting your palm. “But you called me back, you cruel, selfish human. And now I’ll never leave again.”

Your words come out between moans, unable to look away. “I called? I didn’t do—” You’re cut off as Rafayel licks up your skin, sucking lightly at your fingertips as his eyes, half-lidded and blown out stare down into yours. 

Oh.

A hot flush of embarrassment seizes you and Rafayel must sense it because his eyes flutter closed. His hips snap forward, grinding his erection into the side of the bed, and he lets out a low whine.

Gods, the taste of your cum lingers in Rafayel’s mouth. Every dry swallow, every inhale, every damn breath tastes like you, and it makes him want to submit to every horrid urge and simply consume until—

“You don't think I know? Don't think I can’t tell?” Rafayel goes back to kissing your wrist, needing something more, something stronger. His hand ventures to the edge of your towel. ”Can feel everything you do, no matter how far away I go. Gods, I feel it, feel everything, and it drives me insane. Need you so bad, need to hear you, feel you, taste you..."

A shudder runs up Rafayel’s spine at the mere thought, and he can't stop himself anymore, leaning down to suck your fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around the digits, saliva coating your fingertips. He rips the towel from your body.

"Say you need me too," He’s begging, sinking down to your knees. "Say you need me just as badly. I–ah fuck—I can smell how much you want me."

Throwing the towel to the floor, Rafayel runs his hands down your chest, rougher, long fingers cupping and massaging your breasts as his mouth trails wet kisses down your stomach, his tongue dragging against the smooth skin, a clear goal in mind as he settles between your thighs, looking up at you as though you were a thing worthy of worship. His Goddess. 

He’d offer himself to your alter time and time again. So long as he was the only one who got to bleed for you. 

“Yes.” You’re already soaked, the sight of Rafayel panting between your thighs enough to have you babbling, ”Yes, Rafayel. I needed you so, so badly all week. Couldn’t help m’self, please.”

He freezes at that, pouting. “Right, you already came, didn’t you. So mean, cutie. Leaving me out.”

Before you can argue, Rafayel dips his head, dragging his tongue up your cunt before sucking roughly at your clit. 

Your legs thrash above his shoulders. “Ah– wait, not so!” It’s too much too soon. Still sensitive from your prior orgasm, your back arches violently off the mattress, but Rafayel pays it no heed, deaf to your cries as he sloppily makes out with your pussy, drool and slick connecting his lips to you in sticky strands even as he pulls away just far enough to talk. 

“She’s already so sensitive, s’not fair,” he pouts, mouthing against your thigh as he flicks your throbbing bundle of nerves. You jolt, gasping at the sharp jolt of pain. At the same time, Rafayel fucks his tongue into your cunt, just barely dipping in before he moves back to rub nonsensical patterns on your clit. “But this is mine. I don’t want you touching it without permission anymore.”

Fuck, if you had any semblance of a coherent thought you would have argued, maybe even laughed at the sheer audacity of the man.

Instead, all you can manage is a pathetic whine of his name, because the strange swirls and harsh lines he’s licking into your clit aren’t patterns at all but letters, spelling something over and over and over again. 

R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y—

The ring of the hotel phone buzzes from the nightstand. It’s the artist whose party Rafayel left only minutes ago.

“Tch,” Rafayel scoffs in annoyance, whiping his chin as he goes to decline the call.

But this gives you a moment to breathe, and all you can think of is getting revenge. Especially on the bastard who tried to take Rafayel from you tonight. 

“Wait,” you grab his wrist. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it was something important?”

Rafayel turns to you with narrowed eyes, knowing there’s no good intent behind your wicked smile. It turns you on more than you can admit, the sight of his glare, mad at both the call and you interrupting his feast. But Rafayel can't deny you anything and does as he’s told, pressing accept. 

“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”

Instantly, you have Rafayel on his back. 

His neck looks far too bare, and you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his pulse kicks up under your palm.

Ripping his shirt’s buttons off, you begin biting dark spots down the pale expanse of his chest and neck. You’re about to aim right for the glowing mark on his chest when the phone beeps again, playing a voice recording of a clearly very drunk man. 

“Why did you leave, bro? Come back here r’now. One more round of drinks a—” Incoherent laughter and sounds of clinking glasses. 

No. No, Rafayel’s not allowed to leave you, not again. 

You don’t know where the fear comes from, but you force yourself closer on top of him, breasts pressing into his abs as Rafayel shivers beneath you. Leaning down, you kiss the glowing mark atop his heart, admiring the way it flickers and glows when Rafayel bucks into your touch, moaning as you begin to nip and suck in earnest. 

And then you’re flipped onto the mattress once more. 

Rafayel’s heaving, arms trembling to keep himself up. Away. “...Are you sure?”

“If I don’t, then you might actually leave. What will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t go back?”

Rafayel smirks, and you catch a glimpse of fangs as he sits back on his knees. There’s a click, the rough sound of metal on metal as he undoes his belt, unzipping his trousers with one hand as the other cups the inside of your thigh, yanking it over his shoulder as he drags you down the bed. “I’m busy.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

You’re lost, so hopelessly lost in each other that you fail to notice the phone beep once again, the monotone voice of the machine saying, “Please leave a message at the tone,” before flashing twice, still running. 

Again, Rafayel seems to forget the concept of breathing, gasping into your lips as he ruts his hips into yours. “You’re not leaving me, right?” Fuck, he’s leaking all over his stomach, pre-cum splattering across your thighs.

“Never. I’ll never leave you, Rafayel.”

“Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me, please, please—hah—tell me and I’ll do anything, promise cutie, promise.” He’s all but gasping between kisses, cock trapped between his body and yours as he grinds forward, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Say it, say you're mine, tell me, I need to hear it again."

He's talking in circles, rambling, the desperation in his voice palpable. Grasping the base of his cock, he sloppily fisting himself once, twice, before thumping against your entrance.

“I’m yours, Rafayel.” You writhe, grinding yourself up against him in hopes that he’s just hurry the fuck up.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, yours Rafayel.”

“Again, ah—again,” he’s nuzzling into your neck, lifting your leg higher and higher, pinning it to your head as he folds you into a matting press. Still, he refuses to press in, cock throbbing against your clit as he hugs you tight, every muscle in your body screaming in protest and pleasure. “Again, please, please.”

“I’m-” You’re either gasping or crying, words flooding out, ”Rafayel’s, I’m Rafayel’s.”

At that, Rafayel’s entire body convulses. He sobs, finally thrusting forward, bullying up into you bit by bit, forcing you to count every inch as the entirety of his weight bares down onto you. 

You can feel the way his muscles shift, the way his arms bulge and contract as he holds himself above you, hips flush against yours. The desert air must be infecting him, because Rafayel is dripping sweat, flushed from his ears to his chest as he begins to pull out and slowly grind himself back in. 

His voice is wrecked, breathless as he tries to kiss you, missing slightly as he sucks against your bottom lip, drooling. "I'm yours too, I'm yours." At the same time, his cock jerks in you, burying deeper with every filthy roll of his hips, throbbing against your sweet spots. 

Then something snaps, Rafayel’s lips sealed back on yours, and the rhythm he sets is brutal.

Rafayel's cock drags over your walls, molding you in ways you never thought possible. Each thrust is hard, deep, and leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head as you arch off the mattress, nowhere to go as his body folds yours damn near in half, weight bearing down on you.

It's all you can do to wrap your arms around him, nails scratching into his back, drawing thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades as you try to stay grounded, keep your mind from being swept away as the dizziness returns.

But the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach makes it hard.

Harder still as Rafayel begins mumbling into your lips, the filth pouring from his mouth making you clench, cunt fluttering around his cock as he pounds into you.

He can see and feel everything like this. Unable to look away from your face only inches away, watching every expression with love-drunk eyes, hugging you closer, fucking you harder.

"Can feel you, can feel you getting tighter. You're close right? Say you're close, please, mhm fuck." he's panting, and if you focus hard enough you can hear the sloppy noises of him sliding in and out, wet and obscene, the harsh slap of his balls against the curve of your ass.

But then Rafayel’s pushing himself lower, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as his chest is pressed so tight against yours you can barely take a breath.

"You're mine, only I can touch you like this, feel this. My wife. Say it, say you're mine, wanna hear it, please. Please, ah, I’ll do anything, say it."

He's barely pulling out anymore, resigning to quick, deep grinds as though he can’t bear to part.

Too uncoordinated to kiss you, Rafayel's head falls to your neck, sobbing into your marked-up skin before messily kissing atop the bruises.

"Yours. Yours. I'm yours, your wife," the words spill from your lips before you can even think, and Rafayel nearly passes out trying to stop himself from cumming then and there. 

It’s like you’re trying to milk him, hugging him closer and ankles wrapped around his neck as he’s lifting your hips right off the bed. But now he needs to see it.

Needs to know the way you'll cry out his name, how your eyes will glaze over and roll back into your head, the way your chest will heave, the sweat that will pool at the valley between your breasts, the way the skin will flush from a soft pink to a burning red as you lose yourself in the feeling. To him.

It's the only thing he's able to concentrate on, the only thing he's able to think of. The feeling of your body beneath him, the sound of his name on your lips. 

And that alone is enough.

Rafayel’s orgasm is sudden, a jolt of pleasure that surges up his spine with enough intensity to have him collapse, pinning your body beneath him. You can feel it, the way his cum splatters against the walls of your womb, painting your insides, filling you up until the excess squirts out around his cock and your intertwined thighs. He can't stop his hips, can't stop the way he grinds his pelvis against yours, trying to get deeper and deeper still. 

"Mine, mine, mine," is all he can say, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he watches the way your body twitches, a mixture of sweat and cum painting your body as you nearly pass out in exhaustion. "Gonna- gonna fill you up, fuck, so pretty, my pretty girl, pretty wife, gonna make sure it sticks, so I’ll never leave. So you’ll never leave me again."

You're cumming.

He can feel the way your cunt spasms, the way your walls lure him back in, the way you tremble and shake as you throw your head back with tears. 

Rafayel can't stop himself from leaning down and biting, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, his hands grabbing at any bit of flesh he can find. All the while he fucks you through your orgasm, the mess of fluids creating the most obscene noises as they squish and bubble out, pooling out from between your bodies. 

As you’re swaying in and out of reality, you think you see it. A field of red flame lilies, a poison so sweet that when you drink it, you lick your lips and thank the gods. 

God. Just one, the one of the sea and the flaming sun. 

The one who's still kneeling before you. 

The one who you love. 

"Maximum voicemail length reached, recording sent."

♱⋅── a/n: Uber now canonically exists in the lnds universe, thanks. Also, I would have included the absolutely gut-wrenching aftercare included in the card with MC asking Rafayel to sing for her, but honestly I would not change that scene in the slightest and am content to believe that is exactly what happened next.

Oh the things I’d give to hear Raf sing~

[scenesniper]

here I am thinking about goofy/strange habits each lads LI have when the two of you share a bed.

Xavier

First and foremost he is getting in bed with you no matter what.

If you're on the couch then he WILL find a way to fit and snuggle with you it's like cats are liquid theory.

Xavier likes to slip his hands under your clothes to feel your warmth directly.

He'd lay his hand flat against your tummy and let his thumb gently brush the soft skin while he relaxed.

The real problem is that, in more than one occasion, you wake up with his hands on your boobs.

Be it small, medium sized or big, he doesn't care. He is not doing anything just holding them for some reason while fast asleep.

Sylus

He likes to sniff you like a dog.

Sylus will pull you close against his chest after getting in bed and then he just sniff sniff

You told him multiple times to stop that but he can't help himself. I mean, what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

He finds comfort in your scent. It's specific to you and he absolutely loves it.

Even more so after you use his bath products so you start smelling like him and that makes him feel all fuzzy.

He will nibble on you like you're his personal chew toy. Don't freak out when you find red spots and teeth marks all over your skin the next day.

At times you may also find yourself being crushed to death by his very large and very heavy body. Don't worry though, just tap him a few times and he'll roll off of you.

In conclusion, Sylus is a very big dog with wings.

Caleb

This guy has a HANDFUL of bad habits like I could make a post just for him.

One of them is that he watches you sleep. And I mean watch.

The entire time he's so focused on your slumbering form that you'd think he was watching the most entertaining TV show in the world.

You have mini heart attacks whenever you wake up in the middle of the night and see him just....looming over you like a sleep paralysis demon.

You definitely socked him in the face by reflex once or twice. He's fine, he dodged it anyway.

It's not nearly as bad as to when the neighbors came to check in after you screamed bloody murder.

Additionally, Caleb takes pictures of you and has you losing hairs because he refuses to delete them

"Oh c'mon! You look sooo cute!"

Do yourself a favor and dose his drink so he'll leave you alone for the night./hj

Rafayel

This guy is the worst roommate ever.

Just kidding I love him.

He is very annoying though because his bad habit is to wake you up.

If he can't sleep then he's making it everybody's problem, including you.

He will hold your nose or be purposely loud so you wake up and then give him you the most fake nonchalant "Oh, did I disturb your afternoon nap?" "...It's 2 in the morning." "Well, since we're both awake now anyway—"

Literally not a single peaceful night of sleep unless he's asleep as well. It's like having a toddler.

My suggestion? Lock him in the bathroom while he's in the bathtub and enjoy your beauty sleep. You have at least four hours before he notices.

Zayne

He has no bad habits.

He will let you sleep as he should and just makes sure you're tucked in and comfortable. Top tier gentleman.

If I was to pick one is the fact he sleeps like a statue and scares the life out of you because of how stiff he is.

He sleeps on his back like a mummy and doesn't move at all throughout the night.

It's similar to when cats fall deep asleep and you can't wake them up so you think they're dead.

Just make sure he's breathing and bring him in to cuddle and everything's gonna be fine.

[scenesniper]

girl language!

synopsis: how the lads men react to girl language! the girlies that get it, get it.  characters: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb x f!mc warning/s: zayne, caleb and xavier’s contains food note/s: this was a shower thought lmfao. the girl language used is highlighted also omg it's my first ot5 fic yay!

xavier: 

you and xavier just got out from reporting at the hunter’s association. it was late and there were barely any restaurants open. but you didn’t want to cook and god forbid you let xavier cook. 

to say that you were ecstatic to see a new food truck just at the end of the street. it was opened until late night and you and xavier browsed at the menu beside the truck. 

“i don’t know what to get…” you say as you scanned the menu thrice now but xavier didn’t look as bothered as you. you knew that your boyfriend’s taste in food was simple. get the most basic flavor there is, if there’s a meat or hotpot option, it would be that.

“the meat overload looks really good.” xavier suggests. you sighed. “well i already know you’re getting that so i wanna get something else! so we can try two different things.” you explain to him before you sighed, settling on the most adventurous looking food option. 

“okay. i made up my mind.” you say as you pointed at the image of the menu you chose. xavier nods as he places the order, grabbing two different drinks as well. 

the food comes out and you and xavier find a nearby table at the park to eat your dinner. you opened yours and crinkle your nose as a response. you did not expect it to look like that. 

you looked over to xavier’s meal and see that it looked waaay better than yours. xavier takes a bite and you do the same, only to realize that the option you chose was not to your tastes as it had one of the ingredients you couldn’t stand. 

“xavi…” “hm?” “yours looks really good. could i try some?” xavier nods as he pushes the takeout box towards you. 

you take one bite before the regret shows on your face. you should’ve chosen what xavier chose. fuck being adventurous. 

xavier chuckles at the look on your face. 

“i take it that you dislike yours?” 

you pout. “is it that obvious?” 

without another word, xavier swaps your boxes. “have you tried the drinks?” he asked. you shook your head before taking a sip of xavier’s before yours. 

“you’re cute.” xavier lets out a small laugh as he plucks out your drink. 

“are you sure it’s okay?” you sheepishly asked. 

“yeah. enjoy the food, angel.” xavier assures you before he digs into your adventurous meal.

you smiled as you dug in, tastebuds satisfied with the flavor as the two of you enjoyed your dinner. 

safe to say you stayed away from adventurous options for a while, your palette wasn’t designed for it.

zayne: 

the restaurant that zayne took you to for your anniversary dinner exceeded your expectations. the food was wonderful and the ambience of the place was pleasant. 

“that was really nice, zayne.” you say as you walk outside the restaurant, hand-in-hand. 

“i’m glad.” zayne smiles as you swing your intertwined hands. the two of you walked around, basking in the cold air that the night provided. 

the two of you talked in idle conversations, the busy city lights providing light at the otherwise darkened night sky.

you stopped in front of a bakery, eyes landing on a very interesting looking macaron, you tugged at zayne’s hand before pointing at the sweets display. 

“should we get dessert?” you beamed, knowing that your sweet-toothed fiance would never say no to you. if you had a tail, it would’ve been wagging in anticipation 

“i’m fine.” he declines. the tail slumps down. “but i’ll accompany you.” he says as he leads the way towards the patisserie’s door. it’s not the same.

you pout, tugging at zayne once more towards the opposite direction. 

“ah, nevermind then!” you say as you attempt to pull zayne away from the door. zayne’s brows furrow at your sudden shift. 

“but i thought you wanted dessert?” zayne asks, stopping in his tracks, forcing you to stop with him. 

you turned to look at him, sheepish. 

“yeah, well i don’t wanna be the only one getting something.” you explain. “it’s fine, love!” you say as you try tugging him to move again. 

zayne doesn’t budge as he sighs. 

“my love, you can get dessert if you’d like. i won’t stop you.” he encourages you. you shook your head as your voice pitches up to a whine.

“yeah well i don’t want to if you’re not getting anything!” 

zayne could only huff quietly, an amused smile gracing his features as he pulled you toward the door. 

“you know what, fine.” zayne finally concedes. “let’s get something to share.” 

it was as if the light suddenly returned to your eyes as you small yay!, arm wrapping around zayne’s as the two of you entered and walked over to the counter. 

“good evening!” the cashier welcomes you warmly. 

“good evening.” zayne greets before he takes a quick look at the assortment of desserts.

“could we please get one caramel custard, one seasalt eisbock roll, one taro mille crepe and…” he trails off, taking one quick look at you before concluding. “an assortment of your best seller macarons to go.” the cashier nods, smiling. “will that be all?” zayne looks at you for confirmation. you give him a shocked nod— which he willfully ignores. “yes, thank you.” he gives his card before you could even think about paying and moves you to the side as you wait for your sweets. 

“i thought you didn’t want any dessert?” you asked your fiance. zayne looks at you with a small innocent smile. “it’s for us to share.” he clarifies. 

“zayne… i just wanted a macaron.” 

“we do have that.” 

“i wanted just that.” 

“my love, are you complaining?” 

“...no.”

sylus: 

this was the first time that you took sylus to linkon’s mall. well technically, you didn’t invite him. you initially planned on running some errands only to find sylus surprising you at your doorstep. having no way to evade your boyfriend, you begrudgingly invite him to your little solo date. 

“oh this is so cute.” you say as you inspect the sweater before placing the hanger back and moving on. 

sylus cocks a brow but doesn’t say anything as he follows your tracks. he looks at you as you squealed at another top, placing it on top of your clothes and inspecting how it looked on you before your smile drops and you put it back as if nothing happened. 

sylus was now confused. were you broke? why didn’t you tell him? should he open the topic up? he’s given you his black card numerous times so why are you still shy on spending?

“sylus, you coming?” your voice interrupts his trance and he nods as he takes your outstretched hand, letting himself be pulled by you as you dragged him inside another store. 

the store was filled with an assortment of plushies, themed mugs, blind boxes. the interior was colorful as well and it was easy to get lost in it, which to sylus’detriment, you were no exception as you let go of his hand and grabbed a plushie off the shelf, squishing it in your hands. 

sylus looks around the store, taking note of his surroundings before his eyes stop at the stack of baskets beside the cash register.

without notifying you, he plucks out a basket and silently follows your tracks. 

you touched the little crow keychain? in the basket. your eyes looked at the plushie too long? in the basket. the lipstick you swatched complimented your skin? in the basket. 

by the time you noticed, sylus’ basket was almost full. 

“sylus, what is this?” you asked, eyeing the basket before your eyes widened in realization. 

“no…” 

“are you all done, sweetie?” he asked, smirking at the expression in your face. “sylus, put it back!” he scoffs. “that would make me look broke, kitten.” he says as he intertwines his hand with yours.

“wouldn’t want that now, right?” he pulls you to the register, taking note of the way you were flustered.

you didn’t dare touch anything in the next store you went to, but sylus already knew when you looked at an item a second too long.

you dragged him back home not long after. 

rafayel: 

you hated dress shopping. you hated the fact that your friend invited you to a themed wedding and the theme was waaaay different from your usual aesthetic so you confided in your boyfriend who believes that he knows what suits your body frame the best.

“no.” rafayel says as you open the curtains to the dressing room. you sighed, closing it. 

another attempt. 

“nope.” 

another attempt. 

“cutie, seriously. that color?” 

the curtains draw shut once more. 

you couldn’t count the stores that you’ve entered to only exit with no dress in hand. it was by the seventh store where you finally saw the dress that you think would look nice on you and it seemed that rafayel agreed as well as he urged you to try on the dress. 

the curtains to the dressing room drew shut once more and it only took a few moments for your lips to quiver. 

the dress looked… okay but it could be better. the fit was alright but there were awkward pieces of fabric that were loose in some places. 

“cutie? is it on yet?” you hear rafayel’s voice get closer to the curtains and before you could stop him, he pulls it opened. 

you see rafayel through the mirror, you turn around to face him as you dejectedly gesture to the dress hugging your body. 

“do i look nice?” you asked, knowing that rafayel was about to either laugh at you or sugarcoat his words. 

“yeah.” rafayel says with no malice in his tone. “huh?”

rafayel purses his lips before he pinches a section of the fabric together. “it just needs a little stitching up and pizzazz, but!” rafayel smiles and examines the dress once more. “i love how this compliments your skin and brings out your eyes. we just need to accentuate some areas.” 

you turned around to look at the mirror and try to imagine the vision that rafayel was painting. 

“you know, if you don’t see it. i can just… make the dress for you.” rafayel says as he leans back against the wall. 

“besides, whatever you wear won’t overpower this.” rafayel teases as he taps your chin twice with the back of his hand. “my cutie’s face card is lethal. it’s only right i make her a dress just as deadly.” 

he pouts. “now that i think about it, why didn’t you just approach me for the dress?”

“well you never told me you could sew.” you defend. 

rafayel shakes his head. “i can do everything, cutie. you wound me.” 

he takes a step back and closes the curtain to the dressing room. 

“take it off so we can pay for it, we can use that as our base.” 

after rafayel worked his magic, the dress looked absolutely ethereal on you. the amount of compliments you received on the dress only served to stroke your boyfriend’s ego. 

you truly look nice. it didn’t matter if you wore a dress for a goddess or a worn out sweater. you are beautiful in rafayel’s eyes and he would never let any doubt fill your pretty little head. 

caleb: 

“pipsqueak, you hungry?” caleb calls out as you were splayed on his couch, back on the cushions and legs crossed as you absentmindedly scrolled through the channels. 

“no. i’m not hungry” you respond. “i’m about to fall asleep.” you say as a yawn escapes you. 

you hear caleb yell out an “are you sure?” but you chose to ignore it as your eyelids feel heavy and without a second thought, your eyes fell into a close. 

you didn’t know how long you were asleep but it must’ve not been that long as you woke up to caleb sitting on the space left on the couch, a fresh batch of braised chicken wings with white steamed rice and an ice cold can of softdrink on the table in front of him as he flicked through the movie streaming site. 

“oh. you’re awake?” caleb asks as he feels your legs move from behind him. “yeah. how long was i out?” you asked as you took a look at the clock. 

“not that long, but it could count as a power nap.” caleb responds. he settles on a sitcom to serve as his entertainment. he picks up the bowl of rice and shovels a spoonful of it into his mouth, taking a bite of the chicken wing right after. 

you watched as he ate, smelling the freshly cooked chicken that permeated the air. you hear your stomach grumble and you could only hope that caleb didn’t hear. 

but with the twitch of his lips, all prayers went down the drain as he looked at you with a teasing smirk. 

“didn’t you say you weren’t hungry?” caleb asked. 

“i’m not hungry.” you confirmed. ignoring the way that your mouth was salivating at your favorite food that was within your grasp. you huffed, crossing your arms and turning to the side. 

“would you hurry up? i wanna stretch my legs and i can’t do that if you’re sitting there.” caleb chuckles as he hears the pout in your voice. you distract yourself with your phone as caleb eats. 

suddenly, you feel yourself being repositioned. caleb smiles at the grouchy look on your face. 

“you can ask for a bite, y’know.” he taunts you, you huffed, not wanting to lose. 

“i’m not hungry.” you repeat, only to be betrayed by your stomach that rumbled. 

“pfft.” caleb huffs before raising a chicken wing to your lips. “come on, pipsqueak. i know it’s your favorite. won’t you taste my cooking?” he asked, intentionally widening his eyes to resemble a kicked puppy. 

the meat touches your lips and you take a bite, immediately tasting the flavor of the wing. 

“it’s good huh?” caleb asks as he feeds you a spoonful of rice. 

“shut up.” you say as you swallow. you grabbed his drink off the table to take a small sip. caleb laughs as he stands up and walks away. 

“where are you going?” you asked and caleb looks back with a smile. 

“i’m getting your portion. i knew you couldn’t resist the charm of my braised chicken wings.” 

sometimes you hate that caleb knows you too well. 

[scenesniper]

IMAGINE . . . the lads LIs playing an otome game ?!

what would it be like if the love and deepspace love interests played an otome game in which YOU were the love interest instead? ⸺ heavily HEAVILY inspired by a thread on twt by @/Myaurxra_ on the same prompt!!

zayne who is strictly f2p. i cannot imagine this man spending money on the game. he occasionally plays during his breaks. he listens to the tender moments as background noise while he works. he has your affinity level at about 68 which is the culmination of many months checking in and mostly doing his dailies.

zayne who actually uses the ‘remind me’ feature to help him get some rest. nothing beats your sweet voice telling him he’s working too hard and that he needs to go to bed!!

zayne who seems like he’d be a very casual player who enjoys the sweet, soft cards. however, tomorrow’s catch-22 drops and he is a changed man!! <3

xavier who is somehow incredibly lucky without even trying?? he’s pulling your 5 star memories left and right, early pity. definitely posts his pulls on social media, which is the envy of everyone else.

xavier who enjoys the combat system the most. he clears abyssal chaos and the hunter contest with ease. it comes quite easy to him, the protocores, the substats, the playstyles.

xavier who only pays for the aurum pass, but that’s about it when it comes to his spending. he’s living off a hunter’s salary and can only offer so much to his virtual wife…

rafayel who is glint photobooth’s greatest enemy. he has all of your outfits and accessories unlocked. he didn’t buy those all for nothing. he’s spending hours on glint photobooth and snapshot, capturing your beauty just right. he’d post it on social media like the masterpiece you are <3

rafayel who actually takes the time to play the stories and read the lore. his assistant is calling him, but he couldn’t care less. he needs to know what happens next. he’s laying in bed, kicking around like a schoolgirl with a crush. he’s currently sobbing over your backstory and getting pissed off on your behalf when another character wrongs you.

rafayel who has your affinity level already maxed out. he’s flexing the ring on every outfit he dresses you up in. he’s cleared out all the story content there is to offer, besides the combat levels. he rarely plays the hunter contest, but he occasionally does abyssal chaos to read the stories and interactions.

sylus who is an absolute whale. we all know it. he is R3’ing all of your memories. lost a 50/50? doesn’t matter, his card is already out and ready to be used.

sylus who finds the game to be a rather endearing past time. you’re a welcome break in his busy day. luke and kieran will find him at his desk, looking rather amused as he pokes his phone for maybe the hundredth time tonight.

sylus who sends luke and kieran out to buy merch for him when he’s busy, sending them in his stead to fan events. he advises them to stop at nothing. online bid? he’s already won. limited edition merch item? he got it three weeks before it was even announced with his connections. on his desk, you’ll probably find a small acrylic stand of you by his computer.

caleb who actually has horrible luck. he has most of your standard 5 star memories maxed out, mostly due to losing so many 50/50s. at first he was like “psh. it’s just a game. i won’t have to spend any money.” but, then he lost the 50/50 on the anniversary banner and the flood gates opened. now, he’s willing to drop large amounts of money at a time if it means getting your precious memories.

caleb who takes full advantage of the ‘quality time’ feature. mostly to unlock your workout outfit, but he likes to have you cheering him on by the side while he completes his regimen.

caleb who gets oddly competitive during kitty cards? like he’s about to crash out the moment you cancel out one of his assist cards. his hands are gripping the phone, his palms are sweating, his breath is hitching, he’s grunting in frustration. someone looks over his shoulder to see what the hell is stressing him out so much… you just changed his teacup color from red to blue…

[scenesniper]

daddy, i look like you! 

synopsis: he finds his child imitating him and his job, he gets cuteness aggression. 

character/s: dad! zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus

warning/s: rafayel’s is heavily inspired by the hyperpigmentation tiktok, (y/n) is barely in here, rafayel calls his baby gup/guppy bc i think it’s cute sue me

note/s: my baby fever got too real w this one

zayne: daughter, aged 5

zayne pushes the bridge of his glasses up to his nose as he sighs and ruffles his hair. it was unlike him to be visibly stressed out as his reputation knows him to be calm, collected, and cool. however, with the onslaught of paperwork and influx of hunters and civilians visiting the hospital, it was a surprise that zayne still had all his hair intact. 

he gazes at the piles of paper, the words starting to move and blur the longer he stared at it. he sighs and takes off his glasses, accidentally placing it on the table with a slight slam. 

 today, zayne wishes to not think about work. 

the stressed out doctor needs a nap. surely, he deserves one, right? 

you knocked on the door gently, not wanting to disrupt if he were doing something important. he opens his tired eyes and looks at you with an inquisitive expression. 

“is everything alright, darling?” his voice was hoarse, having not opened it for a few hours and his back straightened up as you looked at him with a smile. 

“zia needs your help with something.” his brows quirk at the mention of your daughter. he nods, standing up and meeting you by the doorframe, ready to help with whatever his daughter needs. 

“we’re wosing him!” he hears your daughter yell dramatically as her chubby hands were on top of one another and pushing down on the snowman plushie that was twice her size. you couldn’t even see her hands, she was wearing– no, drowning in zayne’s old akso coat and her short arms were definitely not long enough to fit past half of zayne’s sleeve. 

zayne’s lips were quirking as he looks at the dramatic scene unfold right in front of him. 

“nurse penguin, go up the dosage by 5.000 miwigrams!” she yells at the penguin dressed like an astronaut that comically fell with a dull thud. zayne has no idea where’s she’s getting the severely inaccurate medical jargon from, but it was still amusing to see.

“noooo!” she wails before she realizes that you and zayne were watching her with matching endeared expressions. 

“dada, i mean– doctor zayne, he’s not gonna make it!” zia says, pouting and zayne almost wants to laugh at the way his daughter’s eyes were tearing up, clearly waaaay too invested in her little roleplay. 

“what seems to be the issue, doctor zia?” 

“he’s melting! i don’t know how to stop, we’re losing him, dada!” zia whines and zayne smiles before shaking his head, not wanting to believe that there has come a point in time where he’s perform resuscitation acts on a plushie but he finds himself pressing on the soft body of the plush and counting in succession before he turns on a fan nearby. 

he waits for a few seconds before he raises the plushie to cover his head and move the chubby arms of the snowman. 

“thank you, doctor zia! you saved me!” zayne said in a high pitched tone and you almost wanted to squeal at how adorable the scene is as zia jumps and hugs the plushie, giggling at the way zayne makes the plushie hug her back. 

when zia clutches on tightly, zayne finally lets go, placing a quick kiss on his daughter’s cheek and heads over back to you with a smile on his face. he wraps his arm around your waist as he kisses your forehead and looks at zia playing with her plushies once more, his previous headache definitely gone. 

the both of you looked at each other and laughed as zia glared at the astronaut penguin. 

“nurse penguin, you’re fired.”

poor penguin. 

 xavier: sons, 8. daughter, 4 

on the contrary, ever since xavier became a father, he was definitely more and more active. he’s been taking them out on walks, buying them ice cream and definitely using their cuteness against you as they unfortunately inherited their father’s puppy eyes and plump pout. 

xavier is definitely a present father as he went as far as taking weeks off just to ensure that his children don’t feel like he’s putting being a hunter above them because god only knows how untrue that statement was. 

unfortunately, you, being a lower ranking hunter do not get the same time-off benefits as your husband so there come times where you’ll be assigned to missions lasting days or weeks at most and xavier will be the sole parent responsible for the time being. 

but xavier never made you feel as though he were lacking in being a father. 

however, as you were unfortunately assigned to a mission in a different city, xavier was woken up to his baby girl crying. 

it was almost comical how quick he got up and ran to the source of the pained cry. 

“no, no. don’t cry, please! i’m sorry. you can hit me back, i won’t get mad, i swear!” he hears his eight year old son, leo, say in a hushed voice to their little sister who he was trying to calm down as he rocked her in his arms. he can see the other twin in front of leo and was also trying to calm their little sister down. 

“please, stop crying, i’m sorry…” his second son, milo, says, voice wobbly as he’s visibly distressed. 

“no, i hate you!” stella yells back, punching at her brother’s chest. 

from what xavier could see, the living room was a clean mess. a few thrown pillows were scattered but nothing of a major clean up. he could also see the toy sword that he bought leo thrown to the side, the rainbow LEDs flickering in bright colors, indicating that leo was using it and xavier was a smart man. he knew what happened but he wanted to hear leo and milo's side as to why stella is crying. 

“what happened?” he asks in a soft voice, his sudden appearance making leo and milo jump as they looked at their father with wide and teary eyes. 

“dad!” xavier hums as he walks and sits by them, stella, at the sight of her father, wails louder and makes grabby hands at him. leo carefully transfers his little sister to his father’s arms, stella quiets down and sniffles on xavier’s chest. 

“i’m sorry! we were playing wanderers and i accidentally hit her too hard.” leo admits, looking down, his fists clenched and xavier could see the tears falling from his son’s head, down to his folded up thighs. milo nods, confirming the story. 

“stella didn’t want to, but we still forced her to play because we wanted to have fun with her. we’re sorry, dad.” milo continues, comforting his twin– who was definitely a lot more sensitive, on the side.

xavier secures one arm on his daughter’s back and the other patting his son’s shoulders. 

“didn’t i say last time that stella is still too young to be rowdy with you boys?” they both nod guiltily. 

“we’re sorry, dad.” leo apologizes,  xavier shakes his head. 

“i’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” xavier gestures to stella who was peeking from his chest, looking at her older brothers warily. 

“we’re so sorry, stella.” the twins say with regret, stella looks from her father, to her brothers who were anticipating an answer. stella, being young and never holding a grudge, nodded her head and her brothers basically tackled her into a hug, apologizing once more profusely. 

xavier smiled at the scene and took a look at the swords splayed around in the living room once more before an idea pops into his head. 

he calls for his children's attention before he walks sluggishly, almost like a zombie. 

“the three of you can team up. i’ll play wanderer. try and defeat me.” xavier proposes and with the three smiles that confirmed his proposal, he spent the rest of his afternoon play-fighting with his children. 

the moment you came home, you saw them all huddled together on the living room floor, sound asleep. xavier hugging his twins on either side of his arms and stella laying on his chest. 

you definitely had a new wallpaper after that. 

rafayel: daughter, 8

the lemurian painter, when he found out that he was a dad-to-be, for lack of a better term, exploded in colors. everything that had something to do with the baby, it had to be colorful. 

the nursery walls? painted a vibrant blue with corals and sea creatures smiling, the onesies? all the cutest color combinations he could think of, any color would work! colors in gender– when talking about a baby, definitely did not exist to him as he ensured his baby guppy will grow up appreciating and loving color.

now, eight years later, rafayel is stuck in a dilemma. while he knew that his kid would inevitably inherit his taste for the arts, he knew that honing his daughter’s skills in painting would take time. 

“raf?” you called for him and he put his paintbrush down, paint smeared on his cheek as he gave you a serene smile. 

“yeah?” 

“mira wants to show you something.” you say with a smile that’s almost alarming but before he could ask, you move to the side, your daughter enters the art room, holding a piece of canvas paper in her hands. 

“what’cha got there, ‘gup?” he turns to his stool, staying seated as his height is taller than her daughter standing. mira looks at her artwork and bites her lip, shy. 

rafayel has been waiting for this moment all his life. he never wanted to rush mira’s artistic process, when mira expresses her interest in the arts then that’s when he’d step in because when that happens, rafayel knows it’s out of passion for the craft and not for the sake of following in his footsteps, so to have this moment right now is almost monumental to him. 

“i…” mira trails off before she faces the paper down and pushes it to rafayel’s hands. 

“i drew you.” rafayel’s heart melted right there and then as he giggles. “you drew me? my guppy drew me? why wouldn’t she? her father is the most handsome, i know i’ll look the best in your draw—” rafayel was at a loss for words. 

for the lack of a better term… the drawing was… something. 

his head was waaaay too big and his arms weren’t proportionate, his eyes were bulging out the outline of the head and mira even went as far as drawing sea creatures. somehow, reddie, the family’s pet fish was more decent looking than him. 

“oh.” rafayel’s smile dropped as he sees the drawing before his lips curl up and you can see him physically restraining himself from laughing out loud. with that, you couldn’t help but turn around and finally let your shoulders shake, soundless laughter leaving your chest as you couldn’t help but fall on your knees. 

“i knew you wouldn’t like it.” mira’s voice wobbles and that snaps rafayel back into reality as he sees his daughter pouting, she tried grabbing for the paper and rafayel shakes his head fast. 

“no, no! i love it. you can definitely see that it’s me!” rafayel reassures, a few chortles leaving his lips as he looks at the image once more. 

“oh… where were you when the mermaids were sculpting my statue…” he says, still trying not to laugh as much as he wanted to. 

don’t get him wrong, he’s knows it’s no picasso and that mira is obviously a beginner, but his reaction was rooted from downright adoration that his daughter drew a picture of him when she knows she doesn’t know enough of the basics to cover it, knowing that mira was interested in drawing– the arts, was enough to have him all giggly and on cloud nine. 

“i don’t think it looks good…” rafayel immediately shakes his head once more. “it’s looks fantastic, what are you talking about!”

“then why’s mama laughing?” rafayel doesn’t want to look at you in fear that he’d burst out laughing himself as he perched his daughter on his lap. 

“mama doesn’t know what she’s talking about! did you know, you draw fish better than your mama.” mira perks up at the praise. 

rafayel nods, affirming his statement as he now sees the glint in her eyes, the same color as his. 

“yeah, with a bit of practice, you’ll be better than me!” mira was now excited, feeling giddy at her father’s praise. 

“how about this. you draw your mom next then i’ll teach you how to paint, do you want that?” mira nods excitedly before she bolts out the door, preparing to draw you in the same way she drew rafayel. 

“was drawing me necessary?” you say as you wiped the tears of joy on your face. rafayel finally lets out a laugh. 

“if i get an abstract portrait, so do you.”

sylus: daughter, 7

the big bad leader of onychinus was tired. he just finished up a meeting with one of the underground syndicates that were seeking his alliance. it did not end well for the other party as they were unreasonable with their demands and it was an obvious ploy to overthrow sylus out of his position. 

he gets home to his mansion, greeting mephisto as he trudged along the wide hallways of his abode. wanting to greet his wife, he was surprised when the aforementioned pulls him aside and told him to quiet down. 

sylus raises a brow, yet nothing was of importance to him. at least not before kissing you in greeting so he does just that and you swat his arm– that automatically finds itself wrapped on your waist, he smirks, inhaling your scent as you shush him once more. 

“what's happening, my wife?” sylus asks as he peers over your shoulder to the entryway of his weapon room. 

his eyes widened as he saw his daughter sitting down on the throne-like chair, luke and kieran kneeling before her. 

“do you want to live, yes, no, maybe so?” she giggles and you couldn’t help but snort, knowing that she was just acting like her father. you hear sylus scoff from behind you but he makes no move to intervene. 

luke and kieran play along, begging for their lives in a joking manner. 

“missus, please spare my life! i gave you a chocolate bar when your dad told me not to!” luke pleads. 

“no, missus! spare me. i’m the better looking one!” kieran says, luke nudges kieran and kieran does it right back, causing a little nudge fight to occur with sylus’ right hand men… if he could call them that, they were definitely acting like children. 

your daughter, athena, laughs before she lifts her hand, a weak red linkage tugging at their clothes, it was a weaker version of sylus’ evol but it was still impressive nonetheless. 

luke and kieran play along, pretending as if her evol were making them fly in the air as they make exaggerated “whooaaah” noises. 

“missus, please hear us out!” athena hums before she clears her throat. 

“oki!” she shakes her head, “wait no, that’s not how daddy does it… proceed.” luke and kieran internally coo at their boss’ daughter’s cuteness. 

“how about… i buy you ice cream and candy for one week… or whenever the bossman tells you no.” athena’s eyes sparkle at luke’s suggestion. 

“no, my proposal is better! what if i buy you anything you want if you let me free.” kieran rebuts and athena looks conflicted. 

“princess, don’t think too hard about this.” the two henchmen jump slightly at sylus’ booming voice, athena gasps in happiness as she recognizes the voice. 

“daddy! you’re home.”

sylus smiles at the running child who hugged his waist, greeting him. he kneels down and places a kiss on the crown of her hair. 

“hello, my princess. how was your day?” he effortlessly lifts up his daughter, raising her on his hip as he walks toward the two henchmen who were fearing for their lives, wondering how much sylus heard about them giving athena treats they were not supposed to. 

“it was fun! uncle luke and uncle kieran played with me the entire day!”

“speaking off…” sylus trails off and the men squeak at sylus’ glare. 

“what option do you choose, princess?” athena’s brow furrows and sylus kisses it away. “you have to weigh down what’s more beneficial to you in the long run, sweetheart.” he advises and athena, smart for her age, immediately knows the right answer. 

“uncle kieran’s because it’s not just food?” athena looks at her dad for confirmation and lets out a happy sound once he nods. 

“yay!” 

sylus huffs out a laugh, finding his daughter adorable. she definitely took after you in terms of how easy you were to please but he’d have it no other way. now that playtime was over, luke and kieran casually lounge at the room. 

“how about you go and help mommy out with dinner?” she pouts. “you help too!”

sylus chuckles. “of course, princess.” he puts his daughter down and lets himself be pulled by the tiny being.

luke and kieran released a sigh of relief that they were holding as they saw the father-daughter duo leave the room… only to stand at attention once sylus comes back, his arm being pulled by his daughter. 

“this conversation isn’t done. i’d like to know more about what you were giving my princess even if it wasn’t allowed.”

maybe luke and kieran had to beg for their lives after all.

note/s: dad!lads!dad!lads!dad!lads!dad!lads!dad!lads! *gunshot*

consider buying me a ko-fi ^^

[scenesniper]

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Credits artist @TENNETshizi

[scenesniper]

BEING INEXPERIENCED AND AVOIDING SEX - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : talk about sex and intimacy, mentions of insecurity, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff and soooo much comfort

Additional notes : I hope this can come as a comfort to any sexually inexperienced readers who worry about this🙏🏽 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

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[scenesniper]

Hello! I love your writing sm!

If your requests are open may I rq mc taking care of a burned out or overwhelmed Rafayel? I feel like he's always there for mc but she doesn't get to return the favor often.

Maybe her figuring out how to make him relax and feel better after a particularly bad day/week. ty! <3

Taking care of a fishie

Rafayel X Reader

Summary: When you go to visit Rafayel during a storm, you realize something isn't quite right. He's upset, dealing with a storm of his own as he works, and you decide he needs to take a break. It's up to you to take care of him.

Word Count: 3892

Note: So..........this kind of took on it's own life. It got a little angstier than I'm sure you intended for in your request, anon, but it's still mostly just a lot of fluff and comfort. I really enjoyed writing it, though his dialogue takes time for me to work out. Still! I hope you like it!

Also, I will die on the hill of calling Rafayel "fishie". Sorry not sorry, I think it's so cute.

---

Stepping into the studio is like stepping into a storm. Instead of its usual light atmosphere, the air feels thick and heavy. You can almost feel the static tension crackling along your skin. An actual storm can be seen out the windows, creeping along the coast outside at a threatening pace, casting shadows that make the space feel cold and eerie.

“Rafayel?” You call out into the dimly lit front hall.

No response. All you can hear is the distant sound of harsh brush strokes on a canvas. 

Of course he’s working. The world could end and Rafayel would still be working. Though he doesn’t sound…happy about it. Concern slowly twines around your chest as you make your way deeper into the studio, towards the sound. The usual mess is somehow worse - fruits, paints, and brushes scattered everywhere, along with crinkled balls of paper and tape. You guess this storm was a tornado.

As you expect, you find Rafayel where he usually works. He’s deep into a painting, his brush moving ruthlessly across the canvas. His movements are jerky and unnatural, yet robotically precise. Almost…apathetic. 

Unease prickles under your skin.

It’s nothing like the evenings you’ve spent watching Rafayel paint, when his motions are slow and hypnotic, his focus always so intense but gentle. You could watch him for hours as he brings life to a painting, each brush stroke a breath into existence. This - this is nothing like that. This feels more like anger, bristling and hot, just like the colors slicing across the canvas. There’s no hint of the beautiful, dulcet tones of blue he loves to use. Instead, it’s almost a violent clash of fire and steel and blood. 

Your unease grows with each strike he adds.

Something is definitely wrong.

He’s so focused, Rafayel doesn’t even notice you coming up behind him, not until you curl your arms around his waist. The artist goes tense under your touch, brush freezing against the canvas.

“Hey, fishie,” you greet, voice impossibly soft, hesitant, “I think maybe it’s time to take a break…”

Oh, that’s a tempting thought for him. Rafayel’s eyes flutter shut as he takes a moment to focus on the feeling of your body against his. Your touch is so warm and comforting, like being enveloped by the perfect heated blanket, drawing his attention to just how sore he feels. A bone-deep ache settles in his muscles, reminding him of the deep-set anger simmering in his blood. 

His jaw clenches as he levels the painting with a glare, “No time. I have to finish this.” 

You don’t even blink at the bite in his tone. It’s not meant for you.

“Raf, you look like you’re seconds away from stabbing the painting. And like you haven’t slept in days,” you note, scanning the bags under his ocean eyes. A frown flickers across his lips as he looks away. “You need a break and you know it. Come on.”

“This is just the way artists work,” he grumbles, waving his paintbrush dismissively, “There’s no such thing as time when it comes to inspiration. Unless there’s enough money, apparently.”

His comment makes you tilt your head, eyes narrowing. It’s not playful or simply dramatic like he usually talks. Instead, you hear a thin note of bitterness, as sharp as his wit. And it tells you all you need to know.

“Nope.” 

You click your tongue and snatch the paintbrush from his hands. Rafayel squawks, turning to you with an almost offended look as you drop it in a nearby can of paint. His lips part, and you can tell he’s getting ready to put up a fight, but you don’t even let him start, shooing him off the stool.

“Nope, nope, off you go. You’re going to take a break and a shower,” you insist, pushing him towards his room.

Rafayel gapes at you, and then tries to duck out and around your firm grip, “Cutie, I really can’t-”

“Nope, I’m not hearing it, Rafayel,” you chirp, not unkindly, and block his path when he whirls around. 

The man can be more stubborn than a mule sometimes, and it’s best to fight fire with fire. He plants his feet, crossing his arms over his chest with that exaggerated pout, the one that usually makes you give in to all his whims because you can’t deny such a cute, little fish. You hold your ground, though, raising a brow at him. It’s a stand-off. His stubbornness against your desire to take care of him. And you’re going to win.

After a few seconds, Rafayel scrunches his nose, glancing between you and his unfinished painting. If he really wanted to he could probably overpower you, if only for a second, and get back to his work. But the look you give him, eyes wide and earnest, a deep ocean of concern that threatens to pull him under, makes what little is left of his resolve crumble.

“I really need to finish it,” he tries again weakly.

“You need a break,” you respond decisively, “so we’re taking a break.”

“But-”

“Nope.”

“I just-”

“Nope!”

The artist wilts like a kicked puppy. For a moment, though, you swear a flicker of relief passes through his tired eyes. Like he didn’t really want to keep working anyways. It makes your heart clench.

A little more gently this time, you turn Rafayel around and lead him to his bathroom. He doesn’t put up a fight this time, allowing you to leave him perched on the counter of the sink while you go about preparing the shower. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around, the only sound in the room coming from the water steadily hitting the shower’s glass walls, and the distant roll of thunder.

There aren’t many times you’ve witnessed Rafayel being quiet. He usually likes to chatter, no matter what you’re doing, whether it be about a painting, or something he saw on a trip to the city, or a story about Lumerians. This silence is unsettling. Another storm, on the brink of breaking. That feeling grips your chest, tight and cold, despite the warm steam curling around you, filling the room.

When you glance back at Rafayel, your eyes meet. He’s still watching you, an indecipherable look on his face. He looks somehow more exhausted, his skin ghostly pale, eyes dull with a look of…defeat. 

It’s wrong. Everything is wrong. And you want to make it right.

Stepping over to him, Rafayel spreads his knees a fraction wider so you can settle between them. One of your hands finds the line of his hip, the other resting against the soft curve of his cheek to draw him close. Rafayel lets out a stuttering breath. You touch him with such tenderness, such love, it makes his head swim, makes him feel like he’s drowning yet undeniably safe, all at once. Everything else fades away, leaving just the two of you, surrounded by a soft haze of steam and the low light of his bathroom.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you murmur, so quiet he can hardly hear you over the sound of the shower, “but you know I care about you, right? I’m not trying to be mean to you, I’m just….”

Worried.

Rafayel softens. Of course you’d worry. You’re the only one that would for someone like him. His own personal angel, sent to drag him from the depths over and over and over again. Reaching up, he traces your brow almost reverently, easing the wrinkle between them.

When he talks, his voice is raspy and low, “What a fool I must be, making such a beautiful face look so concerned.”

“You’re not a fool,” you chide disapprovingly, “You’ve never been a fool, Rafayel. You’re just…a little self destructive at times, like we all are. But that’s why I’m here. I’m happy to be the one worrying about you, fishie. I’m happy to take care of you. If you’ll let me.”

Another emotion you don’t recognize flashes behind Rafayel’s eyes. He hums quietly, the tension slowly dripping from his shoulders, and turns to nuzzle into your palm. You inhale sharply, heart fluttering when his lips press against your skin, lingering yet hesitant. And when he looks back at you, there’s so much warmth, so much affection in his gaze, that you almost feel yourself melt.

“Please take good care of me then, miss bodyguard,” he murmurs, a ghost of that familiar smile on his lips, “ I leave my wellbeing in your capable hands.”

The heat that creeps up your cheeks matches the blush warming his ears. What a pair you are. 

“Then let’s get you in the shower,” you hum, voice a little shaky (though you’ll deny it), and card your fingers fondly through his messy hair. “I’ll get you some comfy clothes and make you some food. I’m sure you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Mmm, am I that predictable?”

“Only to me.”

You lean up and press a chaste kiss against his cheek. As you pull away, though, Rafayel catches your chin, slotting his lips over yours. It's a slow and overwhelmingly gentle kiss, devotion bleeding with fondness, raw and vulnerable and filled with a yearning that makes you dizzy. You can barely catch your breath when you pull away, the heat in Rafayel’s gaze nearly making you toss out the rest of your plans for the night.

“Take a shower,” you whisper, breathless, quickly separating yourself from the tempting man in front of you.

You still catch a glimpse of his smirk as you dip past the door, though.

Closing it behind you, you steady yourself against the wall, taking a deep breath. The sounds of him shuffling inside, followed by the soft clink of his shower door closing, lets you know that he’s at least listened to your instructions. Your racing heart gets a slight reprieve, then.

Alright. 

Slapping your cheeks lightly, you bring your focus back to the present. Even if he seems a little more himself, there’s still a lot to do. Rafayel deserves the world, and you’re determined to give it to him. As much as you can at least. Starting with comfortable clothes and a good meal.

You duck into his closet, picking out a particularly soft looking pair of sweats and a light button up. Maybe some socks too, you think as you remember just how cold he felt. Rafayel usually prefers to go barefoot, but you pick a pair of thick socks, just in case he wants them. Everything gets laid out on his bed, ready for when he finishes his shower.

Next - food.

Digging through Rafayel’s fridge is a mostly fruitless effort. Well, not fruitless. In fact, there’s plenty of fruit, only fruit really. Amusement curls in your chest. You’ll have to take him grocery shopping tomorrow and maybe have a conversation about a balanced diet. Luckily, you find some pasta in the pantry, and the basics you need to make a decent sauce. Maybe you can cut up some of the fruit too and make a little snack board.

Plan devised in your head, you set about making it happen. 

You’re in the middle of finishing the sauce when Rafayel silently pads into the kitchen. He looks a little more lively, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with curiosity as he shuffles up behind you. Slowly curling his arms around your waist, he draws you back against his body so he can nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, breath tickling your skin.

You hum, one hand falling to rest over his, “I hope so. It’s nothing special, but it should help you feel better.”

“Anything these hands make can be special.” His fingers trace over your knuckles lovingly. “It just has to mean something to you. It’s only when it means nothing to you that a creation becomes insignificant.”

A part of you wonders if Rafayel realizes how transparent he is being. That, or you’ve just become so familiar with all his habits that you can just tell. To you, reading him is like reading your favorite book, and this is as obvious as a missing page.

But you don’t want to address it just yet. “Ready to eat?”

“Hmm, will you feed me?” He draws back to look at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

It takes everything in you to smother a smile. While you don’t often entertain Rafayel’s games, sometimes it’s nice to play along, if only to see him blush when you turn it on him. And today feels like one of those days. So you plaster on the most exaggerated, concerned look you can muster, flipping in his arms to cup his face.

“Do you need me to? Are you that tired?” You coo at him, satisfaction washing over you when his ears burn vermilion red. How cute. “Aw, my poor fishie. You’ve been working too hard, I knew it. Guess I’ll just have to tell Thomas that I’m holding you captive to make sure you get enough rest.”

“You’re teasing me,” Rafayel whines, the rest of his face flushing.

“Only partially,” you giggle, leaning up to peck his lips, “You always turn so red, it’s adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” he grumbles back, “I’m handsome. Some would even say dashingly so.”

“Of course.” Mirth dances in your eyes. “My dashing prince. So I guess that makes me the knight coming to your rescue.”

He turns somehow darker, gaze darting away, “Even a prince needs caring for sometimes…”

“Yes, they do,” your voice softens, and you press another kiss to his cheek, “Now come, my prince, let’s eat and then we’re going to lay down on the couch and watch a movie so you can relax, okay?”

Rafayel is surprisingly cooperative for the rest of the night. You do end up feeding him a few bites, teasingly wiping at his mouth just to watch him blush again. But with every tender touch, no matter how teasing, you can see him slowly start to relax. His smile becomes a little more genuine, what’s left of the tension in his shoulder melting away. And you love it. You love taking care of him, spoiling him, if only for the night.

By the time you’ve finished dinner and cleaned up, the storm has finally made its way over the studio. Rain drums against the windows as you lead him to the lounge, streaks of lightning filling the room with flashes of light. It’s just the two of you, isolated from the outside world, lost in the warmth of the coastal storm. No one’s going to bother you tonight.

Or so you thought.

You curl into the corner of the couch, holding your hand out for Rafayel, waiting. Just as he’s about to collapse onto you, to finally put the day behind him, his phone comes to life on the side table. Its ring pierces through the relative quiet of the studio, startling both of you. Thomas. Rafayel’s face immediately falls at the name, and he hesitates at the edge of the couch, so close but still so far. In the dim candlelight, you watch his eyes waver, glancing back at the doorway.

“Rafayel.”

They flicker back to you. A flash of lightning illuminates his face, and for an instant, you see dread stain his beautiful features, pleading and desperate. It breaks your heart. 

“It can wait, Rafayel,” you whisper, somehow feeling just as desperate. Desperate to take him away from whatever it is that’s making him feel like this. Desperate to let him know he can rest. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Just…stay. Please.”

He glances back at the phone. It vibrates against the marble table, over and over and over, and you wait with baited breath. Until it goes silent. Still, he doesn’t move.

Slowly, so slowly, you reach forward. When your fingers tentatively intertwine with his, Rafayel takes a deep, uneven breath. And when you give his hand a gentle pull, he crumbles.

Rafayel lets you pull him onto the couch wordlessly. You make him lay down, head on your lap, while his arms curl tightly back around your waist. His grip is almost crushing, his fingers going pale as he wraps them in the back of your sweater, like you’ll disappear. Or like someone might try to tear him away.

Not that you would ever let that happen.

A heavy silence rests over the two of you. Not suffocating, but thick with unspoken words. What words, you’re not sure. They seem to rest at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t make sense of what you wish you could say, or even if you should say anything at all. It doesn’t quite feel right.

So you settle for waiting and start brushing your fingers through his unruly, damp curls, working out the tangles. Rafayel shivers at the sensation, the gentle tug at his roots, the pleasant tingle it leaves behind. He focuses on it, breath catching whenever your nails trace along the back of his neck. Desperate for another anchor point, his hands slip under your sweater to press against your skin. 

You gasp at his cold touch, movements wavering.

“Don’t stop,” Rafayel immediately pleads, voice cracking.

God, the things you would do for this man.

You continue without a word, and the artist hums, practically purrs. He’s remarkably like a cat, despite how much he hates the animals. Clingier, though. Much clingier. And you will never admit how much you love it.

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. Time never works quite the way it should when you’re with Rafayel. Seconds feel like days and days feel like seconds. His hair is dry. The rain is light, now tapping a quieter rhythm against the windows. The thunder sounds farther off. His chest rises so steadily, you almost wonder if Rafayel has fallen asleep.

Until he finally breaks the silence.

“It’s a commission from the mayor.”

You blink. The words process slowly in your mind, a frown forming on your lips. He continues before you can say anything, though, and once he starts, it seems he can’t turn it off.

“Thomas accepted it without asking me. He said the money was too good to pass up, as if I don’t have enough already.” Rafayel’s voice bleeds with such pure vitriol, you’re almost taken aback. You’ve never heard him so…angry. “It’s for his nephew. You’d hate him. He’s no better than a wanderer, preying on helpless people for profit.”

Understanding washes over you.

No wonder he’s upset.

Rumors have spread like wildfire about the nephew of Linkon City’s mayor. Sexual assault allegations. Financial fraud. None of it has been proven in court, but that hardly means they’re not true. It just means he has the power to avoid the consequences.

“I told Thomas to refuse it, but he insisted business is business and he’d already taken the money. As if my art is just business and money. As if inspiration can be bought. Like I can be bought.”

“Rafayel…” You start, a lump forming in your throat.

“It’s like when they used to capture us.” His voice remains thick with bitterness, shaking as he talks. “Humans would pay such high prices for us Lumerians.  Just for entertainment, to show off their status and power. Dead or alive, it made no difference, we meant nothing to them. This painting represents the blood of my people, but to him, it will mean nothing.”

You’re not sure if an aether core can break, but you’re certain you feel something shatter in your chest. It hurts. Seeing Rafayel like this, feeling him shake in your arms, hurts. You’ve never seen him so fragile, so trapped.

And you hate it.

“Rafayel, listen to me.” 

You touch his chin, drawing his burning gaze up to you. He looks torn between tears and brutality. The man who’s held you through your worst nights, and the one who can take life as easily as he creates beauty. Always torn in two and living under the weight of expectation. You can’t stand it.

“You have a choice here,” you murmur, tone insistent, “This is your work. It’s the way you speak to the world. You don’t have to share it with people who don’t deserve it. If this is the hill you want to stand on, then I’ll stand with you, and I’ll make sure you always have the freedom to choose.” A weak smile pulls at your lips. “I wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard or partner if I couldn’t do that for you.”

Rafayel’s brow furrows, sharp and conflicted, “But Thomas-”

“-Is a smart guy,” you chirp, “And you pay him well. I’m sure he just got swept away at the business prospects. If we sit down with him and explain the best we can, I bet he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t, we’ll just find a…creative way to fix this deal. Like delivering a blank canvas with your signature. We can say it’s a commentary on the emptiness of human gratification or something”

That gets the artist to snort despite himself.

“Or we could take it a step further - deliver an empty frame. They’d probably force Thomas to return the money at that point.”

His snort turns into a low chuckle. You grin, ruffling his hair.

“Humans may suck, but we’re good at being petty and coming up with ideas for revenge, huh?”

“Mmm, not all humans are so bad,” Rafayel hums, eyes dancing with amusement as he looks up at you. “I know a hunter who never fails to remind me how good some can be. She’s bold and selfless, not to mention compassionate, even to cats. The world is brighter when she smiles, and her touch chases away even the worst of storms.”

Thunder rolls through the house, perfectly timed, and you giggle when Rafayel frowns.

“Well, maybe not real storms. Though I’m sure she would try.”

“For you, I would do anything,” you promise and he softens even more.

“I know, cutie.” Rafayel catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. He then moves to start getting up. “And knowing that gives me the strength to finish what I need to do. You’ve inspired me.”

“Nope.” The artist grunts as you suddenly wrap yourself around him like a koala, dragging him right back down onto the couch. You flip the two of you over, so you’re laying on top of him, chin propped on his chest. Stuck once again. “You agreed to listen to me about your health today. And now that we’ve talked about it, you’re going to actually rest. Whatever you have to do can wait until tomorrow, okay?”

“Ah, my apologies,” he says, voice lilting with hardly concealed laughter. “It seems I forgot about our arrangement.”

“Uh-huh. I’m in charge tonight, and that means we are going to cuddle and watch a movie, and then you are going to sleep. For the whole night. Understood?” You try to speak with an authoritative tone, but it also breaks with laughter.

“Of course.” Rafayel leans forward, and seels your deal with a brief, but ardent kiss. It leaves your heart fluttering as he draws back to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of me, my treasure.”

“Anytime, fishie.”

---

This ended up being sooooo long! I wanted to get the atmosphere and stuff just right, and then poof, nearly 4000 words. Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed a bit of Rafayel angst/comfort.

[scenesniper]

“THEY’RE BUSY NOW BRO” - PRANKING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : cheating prank, Zayne bringing up Caleb, (fake) threats, slightly suggestive in Rafayel’s part, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : silly fluff

Additional notes : @astridthevalkyrie always comes up with the most GENIUS ideas istg🙏🏽🙏🏽 Here it is now folks!! The infamous prank that would absolutely destroy me if done irl😭 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

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[scenesniper]

“I DIDN’T CUM LAST NIGHT” - PRANKING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : NSFW obviously, mentions of fingering, sex, overstimulation, oral sex, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : smut but also pretty silly😭

Additional notes : Your friend here has fallen sick and their chronic illness has resurged again😁 I seriously need a break… anyways, here’s an SMAU I’d forgotten to post on here!! Working on my commissions and having fun🫶🏽

Commissions are open here!

Tip jar

Masterlist

Taglist: @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @deepzombieyouth @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @violetsequel @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusi0n @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @hrhmimieucliffe @icedunderwaterroom @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @cantescapethevoid (more in replies!)

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