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shaiyasstuff · 3 months ago

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Girl i can always count on you to do a detailed check on my fics😭😭😭 im crying i wuv u so mahc lemme just respectfully SMOOOCH you right now

I’m so glad you liked it🫣❤️

fate | rafayel | drabble

synopsis : Who are we to stand in the line of fate?

content : rafayel x non-mc!reader, cannon/non-cannon, Shaiya is an OC, angst

(Very very inspired by this here.)

To you, he was the star, the moon, and the sky—the entire universe strung together in the shape of a boy who laughed too brightly and looked too beautiful in the sunlight.

To him?

You were background noise. A quiet, fleeting presence. Someone he could blink away and never miss.

You stare at Rafayel now, his smile too wide, his hands squishing his own cheeks as he pouts at Shaiya in that annoyingly endearing way of his.

He’s rambling—something about the lack of dessert in the break room or the injustice of early morning patrols—but his voice has faded into white noise.

You’ve been somewhere else for the past five minutes.

Somewhere darker, quieter, lonelier.

Somewhere where your heart isn’t being wrung out like this.

You ignore the way it hurts.

Ignore the way his laugh, meant for someone else, sits like broken glass in your ribs.

He once told you, voice soft and almost reverent, the story of how he gave Shaiya his scale in another life.

My heart belongs to hers eternally, he’d said.

You only nodded. What else could you do?

The other option was crying until your chest cracked open and all your feelings poured out in ruin.

You glance at Shaiya.

She’s everything you’re not—effortlessly charming, golden and kind, with a laugh that people lean toward and a presence that feels like sunlight after winter.

She’s the first person who ever looked at you at the Hunter’s Association and didn’t look away.

She reached out, befriended you, made space for you in a world that never did.

That’s how you met Rafayel.

And now here you are—watching him fall in love with the person who led him to you.

How poetic.

How cruel.

You push yourself off the table, fingers curling against the edge as the nausea rises in your throat like a tide you can’t hold back.

“Alright, guys. I’m off,” you say, forcing your voice to sound normal—light, detached, as if you weren’t quietly bleeding beneath the skin.

Shaiya turns to you immediately, concern softening her features. “Wait, already? You sure you’re okay—?”

But him?

He doesn’t even look up.

Just lifts a hand in a lazy, distracted wave, eyes still locked on her like she hung the constellations he dreams under.

That’s what undoes you.

Not the pain—the indifference.

You offer them both a small smile, the kind you’ve mastered over time—the kind that hides everything and says nothing.

Then you walk away, not daring to look back.

If you did, you knew you’d shatter.

Once outside, the cold hits you like truth—sharp and biting. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, but it does nothing for the chill burrowed deep in your bones.

You feel stupid. So, so stupid.

What they have—it’s fate.

Already written, already woven into the threads of the world long before you even existed in it.

A love etched into lifetimes. A bond sealed by gods or stars or whatever cruel thing governs soulmates.

You knew that.

You always knew that.

So then why—

Why does your heart still break like this?

Why does it feel like you’re standing in the ruins of something that never even belonged to you?

Why does it hurt so much to love someone who was never yours to begin with?

You clench your jaw, breathe in the frost-laced air, and blink up at the sky, hoping the cold will numb more than just your fingers.

But it doesn’t.

It never does.

Because nothing numbs the kind of ache that lives inside your chest when you’re the leftover in someone else’s love story.

—•

You tap your finger against the desk absentmindedly, the rhythm uneven, fading in and out like a heartbeat too tired to keep pretending it’s whole.

Your mind drifts—

To the curve of his face in golden light, the way his smile tilts crooked when he’s teasing, how his hair falls into his eyes when he’s sketching, utterly focused and beautiful in a way that feels unreal.

And those eyes—striking, impossible, burning with colors that don’t belong in this world.

You used to think they saw you.

Really saw you.

Not just the way you lingered too long in his shadow or how you always laughed a little too late at his jokes.

But the quiet parts. The aching ones. The version of you that never quite fit anywhere.

But maybe that was just another illusion you spun for yourself—another thread you tugged loose in hopes it might unravel into something real.

You press your finger harder against the wood.

When did your heart become so traitorous?

When did longing become your default state?

You’re not foolish enough to believe you’re the first to fall in love with someone unreachable.

But it doesn’t make the ache any less specific.

Any less sharp.

You wonder what it would’ve felt like—

If he had looked at you the way he looks at her.

If fate had been kinder.

If you had met in a different life, one where his heart wasn’t already spoken for by memory and myth.

But you didn’t.

And here you are, loving him quietly, like a secret you’ll never speak out loud.

Like a prayer that never deserved to be answered.

You’re broken out of your trance when Shaiya slides onto your desk, her voice lilting and warm.

“What’s up with you?”

She’s smiling—always smiling—but there’s something softer tucked beneath it. Concern, maybe. Or pity.

You blink up at her, disoriented by how suddenly you’ve been pulled back into reality.

For a second, you forget how to hold your own expression together.

What do you even say to that?

I’m in love with someone who will never love me back, and it just so happens to be the person you’re bound to for eternity?

You don’t say anything.

You just look at her. Really look.

And for the first time, you realize how cruel the universe truly is.

Because it didn’t just give Rafayel someone to love.

It gave him her.

Bright, kind, magnetic Shaiya. The kind of person people gravitate toward without meaning to. The kind of person who lights up a room without even trying.

Even you weren’t immune. You liked her the moment you met her.

How could you not?

There isn’t a single flaw to cling to. Nothing to resent. Nothing to hate. She’s warm where you are quiet. Effortless where you are struggling. She talks to you like you matter. Makes space for you even when she doesn’t have to.

And somehow, that just makes everything hurt more.

You offer a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Just tired,” you say, voice barely above a murmur.

She doesn’t press. Just swings her legs lightly and chatters on about something—about Rafayel, probably. You’re not listening anymore.

Not really.

All you can think is that maybe the universe didn’t create her to laugh at you.

It created her to show you just how deeply you could never compare.

You punch down the ugly, snarling thing inside you—the one with claws made of envy and teeth that whisper you’ll never be enough.

It writhes in your chest anyway, bitter and relentless, but you school your features into something calmer, quieter, safer.

You turn to her, your voice casual, even light. “Don’t you have a mission today?”

Shaiya blinks, caught off guard for half a second before her usual brightness returns. “I do—later tonight. Some rogue activity in Sector Twelve. Nothing serious.”

Of course not. Nothing ever seems serious for her. She always makes it look easy—missions, friendships, love.

Even Rafayel.

Especially Rafayel.

She stretches her arms above her head and hums, “Figured I’d hang around until then. Besides, someone’s got to keep you company.”

You give her a short, noncommittal nod, forcing your lips into a half-smile you hope passes for polite.

She stays perched on your desk, legs swinging, babbling about field reports and malfunctioning tech, her words drifting around you like static.

And you let them. Because it’s easier than the silence. Easier than admitting that the monster inside you isn’t just jealousy—it’s grief.

Grief for a love that never had a beginning.

Grief for a story where you were never meant to be anything more than a footnote.

And still, you stay.

Because it’s better to be near him—near them—than to be alone with how empty you feel without him.

You found yourself at the shooting range, fingers trembling as you loaded the magazine, one round after another. The metallic clicks were sharp, final—like closing the door on every hope you didn’t have the courage to voice aloud.

You raised the pistol, lined your sight, and fired.

Each bullet was an echo of grief you never gave a voice to.

Bang. You’ll never be enough.

Bang. You’ll never compare.

Bang. He will never love you.

Bang. He won’t even look in your direction.

The sounds reverberated through the still air like accusations, like truths carved into the bones of the room. Your heart thudded violently against your ribs, not from the recoil—but from the crushing, bitter clarity of it all.

You reload, slow and methodical, the movement almost ritualistic now. One last round. One last truth.

You take aim.

Bang.

Who are you to stand in the line of fate?

The silence that follows is deafening. The smoke curls like regret in the air, wrapping around your wrists, your breath, your chest.

And you stand there, unmoving, with hands that remember his warmth and a heart that remembers how it felt to believe—if only for a moment—that maybe, maybe you were meant for something more than watching him love someone else.

But fate is cruel.

And you are just a girl with a gun in her hands and grief buried beneath her skin.

—•

“Have you seen Shaiya?” Rafayel asks as he strolls into your apartment like he owns the place—like you aren’t sitting on the floor trying to hold yourself together with fraying threads and shallow breaths.

You don’t look at him right away. Just tilt your head lazily over the couch, eyes heavy with exhaustion you can’t name. “She’s on a mission,” you murmur. “Sector 12.”

You wave him off, dismissive. Hoping he’ll get the hint and leave before you break.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he plops down beside your legs with that same careless grace he always has, as if he belongs here, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The warmth of him seeps into your space, your solitude, your silence. Uninvited. Unbothered.

“You okay?” he asks, voice softer now, dipping into something almost tender.

Your breath catches, barely, like his words had teeth. You stare straight ahead, not at him—never at him.

Because if you do, your mask might slip. And he might see everything he was never meant to.

You laugh under your breath, hollow and sharp. “Do I look okay to you?”

There’s a pause.

And still, you don’t look at him. You can’t. Because he’s here—he’s here—and all you want to do is scream Why now? Why only when she’s not?

Why not when it could have meant something?

You hug your knees tighter, pressing your cheek to the fabric of your sleeve, trying to keep yourself from unraveling.

“Rafayel,” you whisper, the syllables fragile in your mouth. “What are you doing here?”

And though you don’t say it out loud, the real question lingers in the air between you:

Why are you always here when it’s too late?

His eyes narrow, the usual spark of mischief dulled into something sharper, something dangerous.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, low and serious, like he’s ready to burn down the world for an answer.

You almost laugh.

Not because it’s funny, but because he doesn’t see it—because the irony stings more than it soothes.

You, you want to say. You did this. Without even trying. Without even knowing.

But the words die in your throat, swallowed by pride, by fear, by the pathetic hope that maybe he’ll stay if you just keep pretending.

So you swallow the ache like you always do and shrug, smoothing the cracks in your voice until it almost sounds normal.

“It’s just a bad day,” you say, brushing him off with a weak smile. “Forget about it.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

Just stares at you like he’s trying to unravel a puzzle that’s missing too many pieces. And still, you keep smiling, keep pretending you’re whole.

Because if he knew—

If he really knew—

He might never come back.

And even if it hurts like hell, you’d rather have the ghost of him in your life than nothing at all.

Naturally. Because the universe doesn’t believe in mercy—only in timing that wounds with surgical precision.

One minute, you’re curled in on yourself, trying to disappear into the quiet, and the next, Rafayel is sweeping you off the floor like it’s instinct.

As if your heartbreak is his responsibility now, when it never was before.

“What are you doing?!” you burst out, hands gripping the front of his shirt, more startled than anything else.

He barely blinks.

“You’re going to sit,” he says, already nudging open your bedroom door with his foot, “and I’m going to take care of you until you tell me what’s wrong.”

He lays you down at the edge of your bed like you’re made of something breakable. His touch is gentle, absurdly so. As if he’s trying to patch up wounds he can’t even see.

Your lips tighten, your breath catching at the back of your throat.

You look at him, really look—and the pain in your chest coils tighter.

“Why now?” you whisper, the question slipping out before you can stop it. Raw. Unshielded.

Rafayel freezes.

His brows pull together, confusion flickering across his face, like he’s hearing a language he was never taught. “What do you mean?” he asks, voice low, uncertain.

And gods, that’s the worst part.

That he doesn’t know.

That he truly doesn’t see what he’s done to you.

You look away, because it’s too much—his kindness, his nearness, his obliviousness.

Because in his world, you were never anything more than a friend with a quiet smile.

But in yours?

He was everything.

“It’s nothing, just…”

Your voice falters, cracking like thin ice under too much weight.

“Just leave me alone.”

You don’t look at him. You can’t. You already feel too bare, too close to unraveling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the shift in his expression—hesitation, confusion, something close to hurt.

And for a moment, it nearly breaks you.

He looks hurt.

He looks conflicted.

You almost laugh.

Because isn’t that just the punchline?

Why does he get to be wounded when you’re the one who’s been quietly carrying the torch, burning for him in silence?

When you’ve been holding the candle for someone who never even thought to look for the light?

Your hands curl into the bedsheets, nails digging into fabric to keep yourself grounded.

He has no idea what he’s done.

No idea what it’s like to stand this close to someone and feel a thousand miles away.

To watch him reach for someone else with the same hands you used to dream would hold you.

So you swallow the laugh. The scream. The truth.

Because what good would it do now?

“Please,” you whisper, barely audible. “Just go.”

And this time, you don’t look to see if he does.

You hear it—soft shuffling behind you, hesitant footsteps on the floorboard, the faint rustle of fabric. He hasn’t left.

You turn around, ready to say it again, sharper this time. “Raf—”

But the word barely leaves your lips before his face is right there, inches from yours.

So close you can see the way his lashes catch the light, the faint flush along his cheekbones, the way his lips part like he wants to speak but can’t.

And then—those eyes.

Those impossible eyes, glowing somewhere between dusk and dawn, blue and pink and something otherworldly in between, all of it filled with a concern so raw it knocks the breath clean out of your lungs.

He doesn’t say a word.

He just looks at you. Like you’re not breaking. Like you’re not pushing him away with everything you have. Like you matter.

And you?

You go still.

Because what do you even say, when the person who’s been slowly undoing you without even realizing it is suddenly close enough to memorize the shape of your sadness?

Your throat tightens. Words vanish.

You’re left speechless, caught in the gravity of him, wondering what it means that he’s finally looking—but you’re not sure your heart can survive it.

“Wha—”

The sound barely scrapes past your lips before he cuts in, his voice low, careful, like he’s walking across something delicate.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he says. “Shaiya told me you’ve been staring off into the distance at work. Not answering when people call your name.”

You blink.

The words hit like a pebble tossed into still water—small, but enough to send everything rippling.

Shaiya told him?

He asked?

You stare at him, stunned.

For a second, the ache in your chest forgets how to twist. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the fact that, somewhere in his orbit, your name had drifted into conversation. That he noticed.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You hadn’t prepared for this—for him to see through you, even just a little.

“I…” you try, voice softer, unsteady. “You asked about me?”

His brows furrow slightly, like the answer should be obvious. “Of course I did.”

And just like that, your world tilts—just enough to make you wonder what it would’ve been like if he’d looked at you like this before you broke.

You couldn’t breathe.

The walls felt too close, the air too thick, and his gaze—so full of something you’d wanted for far too long—was suffocating.

You needed to get out.

Your chest tightened, pulse racing as the weight of everything—his nearness, his concern, the unbearable hope clawing its way back into your throat—crashed over you all at once.

“I— I need some air,” you muttered, already rising to your feet, heart in your throat, limbs moving before your mind could catch up.

You didn’t wait for him to respond.

You couldn’t. You just needed to move. To run. To escape before whatever held you together came undone.

Because if you stayed a second longer, you might’ve said it.

You might’ve said I love you.

And that was a truth you couldn’t afford to let slip—not when he was still in love with someone else.

Rafayel stared at the space you left behind, still warm with your presence, still echoing with the sound of your retreating footsteps.

His fists clenched slowly at his sides, jaw tightening as something sharp and unfamiliar twisted in his chest.

You were slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know why.

He replayed every word, every look, every tremble in your voice—and it hit him, sudden and brutal, like the tail-end of a wave he didn’t see coming.

There was something wrong.

And he’d seen it too late.

The air felt heavier without you in the room, the silence deafening.

And for the first time, Rafayel didn’t know what to say, or how to fix it, or why it hurt this much to watch you walk away.

His fingers flexed.

Because if someone had hurt you, he’d burn the world down.

—•

Your phone rang the next morning, cutting through the hush of waves and the distant cry of gulls. The sharp vibration against your thigh jolted you awake.

You blinked against the early light, skin damp with ocean mist, mouth dry with sleep and silence. It took a moment to realize where you were.

The beach.

You’d fallen asleep in the sand, curled in on yourself like the tide might take you if you let it.

Your jacket was pulled tight around you, half-covered in grains of salt and moonlight. The ache in your bones reminded you of last night—the panic, the closeness, the way Rafayel had looked at you like he finally saw you.

The phone kept ringing.

You fumbled for it, thumb swiping across the screen with sleep-clumsy hands, heart already sinking at the name that might be waiting.

Part of you hoped it was him.

Part of you hated that you hoped.

Because even now—with your cheeks kissed by cold wind and your heart cracked from trying to outrun the truth—he was still there. Still in your thoughts.

Still in the space where love had no business surviving.

“Where are you?”

Shaiya’s voice bursts through the speaker, sharp with worry, echoing in the quiet morning air. It makes you flinch, like guilt has teeth and just sank into your shoulder.

“I—” you begin, but your voice barely holds shape.

Then his voice cuts through hers—low, urgent, too close.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Rafayel.

“I’ll come get you right now.”

You go still, the phone pressed against your ear like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered. The sea murmurs behind you, waves brushing the shore like it’s breathing beside you.

Your heart pounds, wild and disoriented.

“Is that the sea?” he asks, sharp, and then—

“I’m coming. Stay where you are.”

The line goes dead.

You sit there in stunned silence, the phone still pressed to your ear long after the call ends. The wind brushes your cheeks, and for a moment you wonder if you imagined the entire thing.

Because… why now?

Why did he sound like you mattered? Why did his voice shake like that?

Why did he suddenly care—when you’d already convinced yourself he never did?

You sit there, still dazed, the phone limp in your hand, the sea brushing gently against the shore like it’s trying to comfort you.

And then—

You hear it.

Your name. Carried over the wind, frantic and raw.

“Y/N!”

You turn slowly, like your body’s moving through water, and there he is—Rafayel—running toward you across the sand, hair windswept, eyes wide, breathing like he’d sprinted across the whole city to get here.

When he reaches you, he doesn’t hesitate.

He drops to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your frame in a crushing embrace, pulling you into him like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Oh god,” he breathes against your shoulder, voice trembling. “You’re okay.”

And for one fleeting, trembling moment—you feel it.

Hope.

Soft and shimmering in your chest like seafoam, fragile and glistening. You close your eyes and let yourself believe—just for a heartbeat—that maybe he came for you.

Maybe he chose you.

But fate has never been kind.

“Do you know how Shaiya felt after she found out you were missing?” he says, pulling back slightly, his hands still on your arms.

And just like that—

the moment shatters.

His words echo, cruel and sharp, ringing in your ears like a bell tolling for your delusion.

Of course.

He wasn’t worried because you were gone.

He was worried because she was.

You smile—small, broken, empty—and nod like it doesn’t hurt.

Like you hadn’t just imagined an entire world where he ran for you.

And as if the world hadn’t twisted the knife deep enough—she appeared.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Shaiya gasped, breathless as she stumbled down the dunes, cheeks flushed, hair tousled from running.

Her voice was laced with relief, eyes wide and glassy as they landed on you. She looked like she had been worried sick—like you were someone she couldn’t bear to lose.

You stared at her, stunned, caught between guilt and something heavier.

She was panting, hands on her knees, chest heaving with effort.

And beside you, Rafayel stood quickly, like gravity had suddenly remembered who he was supposed to be standing next to.

He took a step toward her. Not you.

Always her.

And in that moment, you realized the world didn’t just forget you—it remembered you only in relation to someone else.

A side character in their story. A shadow at the edge of someone else’s light.

You pressed your hands to the sand to steady yourself, head bowed, heart splintering in silence.

Because it was never really about you.

And it never would be.

“I didn’t realize,” you say quietly, your voice barely louder than the wind. “I fell asleep.”

It’s the truth, and not.

You fell asleep, yes—but more than that, you slipped. Out of yourself. Out of control. Out of hope.

Before the words can settle, Shaiya’s already moving—reaching out, pulling you to your feet with a strength that surprises you.

And then she hugs you. Tight.

Arms around your shoulders, face buried in your neck like she was afraid she wouldn’t find you again. You freeze for a moment, caught in the shock of it—her warmth, her worry, the weight of how much she cares.

And for a moment, you let yourself be held. Let yourself pretend this closeness doesn’t sting.

But your eyes lift, instinctively, over her shoulder—to him.

Rafayel is watching. Quiet. Still.

His expression unreadable, but his body turned slightly toward her. As always.

And as her arms tighten around you, all you can think is that,

You’re holding the person who loves him.

And he’s watching the person he loves.

And you are simply—

There.

—•

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again,” Shaiya scolds, her voice stern, hands working deftly as she wraps the bandages around your scraped, sand-bitten feet.

You hadn’t even realized you were barefoot. Hadn’t felt the sting of the shoreline or the rocks beneath your heels.

You’d been too caught in everything else—your thoughts, your feelings, your unspoken heartbreak.

You look down at her—at the way her brows furrow in concentration, the way her hands tremble just slightly despite how steady she tries to be.

She cares. Of course she does. She always has.

“Sorry,” you murmur, offering her a small, worn smile. One that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Because you weren’t sorry for falling asleep on the beach.

You were sorry for wanting to disappear.

To the side, Rafayel stands silent.

He hasn’t spoken since she arrived. Hasn’t moved from that spot.

But you can feel his gaze on you—steady, unreadable, heavy with something you’re too tired to decipher.

You don’t look at him. Not this time.

Because if you do, you’re afraid you’ll start to hope again.

And you’re not sure your heart can survive another betrayal like that.

Soon, Shaiya is called away—duty tugging her back into the world, into action, into a place where she belongs.

She gives you one last look, lingering at the door, her fingers squeezing your shoulder with silent affection before she’s gone, leaving only the sound of waves and the hush of your shallow breath behind.

And then—

you’re alone.

With him.

Rafayel doesn’t speak right away. The silence stretches between you, tense and brittle, until he takes a single, tentative step forward.

You flinch.

It’s instinctive. Small. But enough.

He freezes.

And then you see it—the way his expression falters, confusion folding into realization. His brows knit together, not in anger, but in something closer to hurt.

As if it hadn’t occurred to him—not really—that you might be afraid of him. Not because he’s dangerous, but because he’s the one holding the dagger you kept running into.

He frowns, quietly. As if he’s only now starting to see the shape of the damage. The bruises he left without ever laying a hand.

And still, he doesn’t move.

Like he knows now that any closer, and you might shatter.

“Why?” he says, quietly. Barely above a whisper.

It hangs in the air like smoke, curling into your chest, choking before you even have the chance to breathe it in.

You finally look at him.

His eyes are on you—soft, searching, and so unbearably gentle it makes you want to scream.

Because he doesn’t get to be gentle. Not now. Not when your heart has already learned to ache in silence.

Feigning ignorance, you offer the easiest escape:

“What do you mean?”

Your voice is hollow, even to your own ears.

Because you can’t say it.

You won’t say it.

You can’t tell him that it hurts—god, it hurts—seeing him with her, the way he smiles when he’s around her, the way his voice softens just for her. The way his whole world shifts in her direction, like it never had to for you.

You can’t say that every time he looks at her, it feels like a thousand quiet deaths.

That there’s nothing you can do about it.

No fate to change. No mark to rewrite.

That he was never meant to be yours.

You clench your jaw, lowering your gaze again before your eyes betray you.

Because how do you confess to a man who was written for someone else?

And worse—how do you stop loving him, when even silence tastes like his name?

His jaw tightens—just barely, but enough to see the flicker of something shift behind his eyes. Hurt, maybe. Frustration. Maybe both.

And then he turns.

No parting word. No final glance.

Just silence—cold and absolute—as he strides toward the door.

And then,

Bang.

The door slams shut behind him, loud enough to make you flinch, to rattle the air in your lungs.

It echoes through the room like an exclamation point to a conversation that never really began.

You’re left standing in the quiet aftermath, staring at the space where he’d been.

You’d wanted him to leave.

But not like that.

Not so angry. Not so broken.

Not without understanding the why behind your silence.

But maybe that’s what you deserve—for loving him in secret, for hoping in spite of fate, for carrying a heart that was never yours to offer.

The silence stretches.

And all at once, you realize—

you’ve never felt so completely, devastatingly alone.

#lads rafayel #lads angst #lads #lads x reader

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year ago

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DOQKXLWKFOF OH MY GOOOOSSSHHH! I AM ON THE FLOOR SCREAMING!!!

With a deep breath, Steven decided to get up from the wrongly cool sheets, instinctively dodging the sand line, whereas the floor was long clean from it. Was clean ever since you moved in with him. With them. <- SOBBING ALL OVER THIS

"Now, now. Don't play Mahc Spectah for me." <- WHEEZE

OH MY GOSH THIS WAS JUST SO HOOOOTTT!!!

(Please, if it's not a bother for you, could tag me in the next parts? Also no rush or pressure to write them 💚🫂)

Chapter 1 :

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

● Steven Grant x GamerGirl!Reader ● Rating : E

➤ MasterList :

✦ Character AI Bot Based On This Chapter ✦

✦ Marc's Chapter : Coming Soon...

✦ Jake's Chapter : Coming Soon...

─┉┈˚*･༓ ☾ ༓･*˚┈┉─

✦ Summary : You've got your hands on a new video game and been hyperfixating over it. Moonboys aren't taking it well at how they've been neglected.

✦ Tags : Established relationship and reader has moved in with them, Steven's POV, Sad puppy Steven, Marc mentioned and appears only at first (red sentences), Gaming, itty-bitty angst where Steven is a tiny bit smad and feels ignored, He calls reader love/dove/darling, Fluff, Smut

✦ Smut Warnings : SoftDom Steven, Oral Sex f!reader receiving, fingering f!reader receiving, p in v, overstimulation

✦ Word Count : 4,099

➻ Note : This was purely inspired by @melodygatesauthor headcanon on moon boys with a gamer partner.

➻ Note : Comments and Reblogs are appreciated ♡

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Is she still playing?

Marc's voice brought him back from the trance he was in while watching the flurry of colorful lights coming from the living area in the darkness of the flat.

Steven sighed as he glanced back at the mirror beside bed, seeing Marc trying to peek through at you.

He hummed when he closed his book and turned his attention to Marc. He looked as tired as himself. Unruly curls, dark circles under his eyes and all from waiting for you.

But it's been three hours!

Steven let out another soft frustrated sigh, but this one was meant for Marc. At how he thought he couldn't count the hours that you haven't been in bed. Or the nights that you skipped sleeping till the late hours of dawn.

You still managed to spend time with them, though. With your work and life, you still managed to talk to them, be there for them, love them, and eat with them.

But Steven was getting worried. Marc was sensing it too that this videogame obsession was a bit, odd.

You have been compromising precious sleep time with them ever since you got this new game.

It's been 7 days–

8 days. It's been 8 days.

Steven bristled and side glared at Marc in the mirror. He knew it was past midnight now, so it technically made it 8 days that you were glued to your gaming controller and the tv screen after dinner with them.

He knew it better because he was the one missing you the most!

He thought maybe the first days would be like this. You, playing and enjoying your alone time with the characters you adored. It made his lips pull up into a smile at how you loved this video game. How your voice got high pitched with excitement as you explained some of the plot to him over dinners, without spoiling the game much, of course, in case he wanted to try and play it.

A chuckle even was on its way in his chest as he remembered the way you pouted at some inconvenient things the game developers had done that you thought you'd have done better for your favorite game and its story.

But he was missing you. Missing the time you usually spent in bed. Before sleep.

Sure, you still talked to him. Loved him and cuddled him on the couch or throughout the day after your jobs.

But here he was, his lips puckered out to the cold place beside him on his bed. The place where should have been warm with you and your body, snuggled close to him.

A small wince went through his body as he heard your loud grunt from losing again, probably.

She failed the quest again?

Steven draped his body across the bed, trying to watch your slumped shoulders as his cheek got hit by the cool blanket with his tilted glasses on his face. He nodded to Marc, his curls messing up more as his cheek rubbed against the sheets, his glasses’ hinge pressing into his temple.

But seeing your determined rise of body on the couch as you leaned back, the death grip you had on the controller…

He knew you wouldn't be coming to bed any time sooner.

He padded closer to you, passing the fish tank with a smile, trying to keep himself hopeful. You would surely return to bed in a short bit. He was sure of it.

But a small frown came over his brows as you didn't even acknowledge him being awake and standing only inches away from the couch and the tv you were glaring at.

“Love?” He didn't like the way you winced at his soft tone when your head whipped towards him.

“What– oh, Steven… I'm sorry! Did I wake you?” Steven glanced at the tv with a push up of his glasses, to the paused menu and returned his gaze back to you with a smile to answer you. “No. Not really.” He held up his book that he was reading earlier, indicating that he wasn't sulking at why you weren’t in bed with him. Because he wouldn't admit that he couldn't sleep without you and from how touch starved he was from having you around but not having you in his arms.

You gave him and his book a tight-lipped smile and turned to the screen again, un-pausing your game. Without noticing that he wanted you in bed and what his pointed look meant.

"S'alright love, I'll be sittin' here, makin' m'self comfortable while readin'." Steven's gaze never left you as he made his way and sat on his reading chair, a little upset that you didn't realize he was awake just because you were awake. Just because he wanted to have more time with you. Did you intentionally ignore what he meant, or were you just so into the game you didn't pick up his intention?

“Okay.” You mumbled absently.

A week. A whole week has been like this.

He was missing you. You were there, sure. Living and breathing near him. In front of the tv, your beautiful face illuminated by lights that danced out of the screen. But you weren't there while gaming!

You just became an entirely different person the moment your hands touched the controller. You were less responsive. Less aware. Less there!

He tried to explain it to Marc. Marc said it was the game you loved so much. The franchise you grew up with. Jake, on the other hand, was even more into letting you follow your slightly unhealthy passion.

But this much obsession was a bit concerning. He couldn't help the going off alarms in his brain. In his heart.

You seemed out of this world while gaming. Like you were in there with the characters.

It wasn't this bad at first. You would come to bed early. Make some comments about the game here and there snuggled up to his chest.

But as the week went on, and the story went on, so did your fixation on that game went on!

It was just your favorite game. Not like you would actually forget him, them, for a videogame, right?

But it was getting frustrating.

The soundtrack coming from the game... the one that indicated you were in danger or enemies were attacking... It was making him nervous!

He could swear that he heard it often times throughout this week that he felt it playing in his brain when he went on missions as Mr. Knight.

And the fact that you weren't touching him! Calming him! Your attention, not on him! Your loving gaze not meeting his eyes while playing!

"Love?" He sighed, his eyes glancing at the clock, which showed 2 AM now. Two in the morning, and you didn't even give him a side glance ever since he sat on the nearby chair.

He was missing the color of your eyes, the twinkle in them when they landed on his own eyes.

A horn went off in the game, and he lost it by yelling out your name. Steven slammed his glasses on the table in frustration at how oblivious you were to his existence while gaming even though you clearly flinched to your name being called. He wasn't even sure if it was because of the war horn, or his firm tone though.

"Steven, why don't you go to bed?!" You asked him, still engrossed in the game that was oh so much more important than him. It saddened him that you said his name only to just dismiss him. To shoo him away and continue playing.

Steven tried to contain himself. It was a game you loved so much, and he wasn't against you having your own hobbies.

But you giggled! You actually giggled at a scene playing on the tv, and it broke his heart. You hadn't giggled or laughed with him while he was sitting there all this time while he even playfully quipped about your gaming.

You didn't give him the shy giggling you usually gave him when he said, “Slaying monsters, love? You are indeed my nocturnal gaming queen.”

He took a deep breath to calm himself, but then he slammed the book shut with frustration. "Fine. It's not like I need affection or attention or love, or anything." He grumbled loudly while getting up. He was so angry with how you've been treating him tonight. Over what? Over a video game!

Not holding him. Not talking to him properly. Not giggling to him. He barely got to even look at your beautiful face while he was fronting tonight.

You were on better terms with Marc and Jake at nights. Probably fearing to upset them with not going to bed with them. But who cared if little Steven got upset, no?

No one cared while his heart broke little by little at how you didn't even hold him and cuddled him under the covers.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest that started to choke him near teary-eyed-ness as he stomped back to the bed. Not just from sadness, though. From frustration. From anger, maybe, too.

"Steven?" You sighed out his name, but he didn't even turn around. He was so mad that he couldn't bring himself to feel giddy once he heard the console beep into being turned off as he wrestled with the duvet and lay his head on the pillows.

Steven didn't let himself even feel happy once you walked closer to the bed. He was feeling guilty. Feeling bad at ruining your game because he was feeling neglected and insecure. Feeling guilty that even your breathing sounded sad as you stood by the bedside, him, being the cause of it.

His back was turned to you, and his eyes were glued to the window. But he could swear he felt you were fiddling with your fingers. He was so angry that he didn't want to look your way and give himself away at how guilty he also felt. But he kept himself in check, not turning to look at you just the way you weren’t looking at him the whole night. "Go back to your game. Don't bother," he barked, squeezing his eyes shut.

Steven tensed up when you got on the bed behind him. His muscles flinched when your arm came around him, and your face pressed into his spine, but eventually he relaxed after a while.

He tried so hard to ignore you.

But he failed. He missed you so much that having this little physical nearness ever since the last 5-ish hours made him turn into mush.

"Don't you have a game to finish?" He tried to sound annoyed. He really did try to get back that sharpness into his tone, but he just sounded like a hurt little kid.

He missed you when you paid attention to him. He missed having you all to him. He missed having you this close.

Gods, he even missed you breathing this much close to him!

Did all the anger and frustration go away when your arm tightened around him, your face gently rubbing into his back as you shook your head no with a soft sniffle?!

Yes, it all went away and made Steven's heart sink as he felt your body trembling against him. He knew, deep within him, that your obsession with the videogame probably had some deeper meaning than just it being your favorite game throughout your childhood. He had to talk to you about it, but he didn't know how to bring it up, and he never thought one day you wouldn't open up to him the way you usually did. And it hurt him even more. "Love, let me hold you..." He whispered quietly, his own throat closing with how he missed having you in his arms in bed.

He played off the sigh of relief with a soft grunt as he turned to face you when you pulled away enough to let him wrap his arms around you.

Steven's eyes were also wet from the tears he was holding back as he watched tears escape yours. "Look, dove, I know somethin's goin' on with you, and that's why you're playin' that game so much." He pulled you into a warm squeeze, "Can we please talk?"

He frowned at how you shook your head 'No' and buried your face in his chest just to hide away your teary cheeks. He let you have a moment in silence before speaking gently again, his hands soothingly rubbing your back. "No, we are goin' to talk about this. I promise, it's goin' to be fine, yeah?" His hand sneaked closer to his chest and held your chin to make you look up at his eyes that were wide with affection. "Let's start slow, yeah, dove?" He wiped the tears off your cheeks and cupped your beautiful face so tenderly. The corner of his lips lifted up on the way your walls melted down just from a sweet hold.

"I'm not good with words." You mumbled with a sniffle that could make him chuckle at how adorable you looked with those puffy lips and tired eyes if you weren’t crying.

"Now, now. Don't play Mahc Spectah for me." Steven chuckled as he wiped your last remnants of tears away when you chuckled at his playful accent, "We have enough brooding in this household." He gently tapped the tip of your nose with his forefinger. "But there will never be a day when we can't talk out our feelings. You and me." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, relishing in the smell of your hair. "I know you have somethin' you're struggling with now, but I can't help you if you don't let me in, love." He mumbled to your skin. "You don't need to find the right words with me. I'm here, and I only want you to let me in."

"Steven..." Your sob shattered his heart as he tried to soothe you, to calm you as he rubbed your back. It was breaking him at the guilt in your eyes. And that was enough for him to forgive you.

"Shhh. I'm right here, okay? Everything's going to be fine." He pulled you so close until your faces were very close and almost touching. "Don't talk. It's fine." He whispered, sharing your warm breath as his nose nuzzled into yours.

He had missed this closeness. He was okay to have you like this even if you took longer to open up. He just wanted you to be near him. To let him in, even if it was physical.

But then he did something that he knew would distract you from whatever that was hurting you or making you sad like this. "I wanna kiss you, love." Steven whispered onto your lips, his voice raspy and playful.

"Even after I was hyperfixating on gaming? Neglecting you?" The strain in your each word squeezed his heart, but Steven couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips as his chocolate brown eyes twinkled at you so lovingly with that slight tilt of his head. He couldn't hold his kisses anymore. The first peck started on your lips. He kissed your neck, your cheeks, your forehead, your lips again, your nose, and then your neck again before pulling you in for a deep, passionate kiss even while you were giggling to his kissy assault. "I'll always love you, my dove. Nothing can make me want to kiss and love you any less. So please come back to me instead of goin' into this game every night. I miss you, darlin’.”

“Steven!” You scoffed a chuckle. “It's not like I never made time for you. I just come to bed a lil late.”

“It's 2:30 in the mornin’, love. How is that a bit late?” He held your chin in his thumb and forefinger, gently but firmly trying to reason with you. “You have work in the mornin’. And honestly, I wonder how you've functioned throughout this week between staying up till 4 AM and everything else..”

Steven sighed with you as you pouted sweetly and accepted your defeat. “Fine. I am sorry that I'm staying up late and playing obsessively. But–”

“No buts, love.” He stopped you with a gentle press of his fingers to your mouth.

“But I have no time to play other than nights!” You mumbled into his fingers which tickled him and made him chuckle at how you were trying to negotiate with your pouty lips rubbing onto his hand.

“al’ight. We can work through that. What about we play in the evening?” The cute pinch of your brows in confusion made his heart flutter. “We?” You asked as you scooted closer on the bed to him which meant victory for him as your face lit up and his body tingled from the way your body got pressed to his, your legs now tangled with each other.

“Yes. We.” He confirmed with a nod, your soft cheek under his palm as he caressed it. “I believe it's time I finally see what's so interesting about this game that's keepin’ my girlfriend away from cuddlin’ me before sleep.”

Your little excited squeal made him laugh as you shouted. “Really?! You will play with me?! You're going to absolutely love it! I– YOU WILL LOVE IT! I know you will!” You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard and suddenly, stealing his breath.

Within seconds his heart was pounding loudly against his ribcage into your chest. The molten warmth of love spreading from his heart to his whole body through his veins as his hand found the small of your back and pulled you closer to him. He let out a shaky, whimper like breath through parted lips and into your mouth to how your body slotted against his in all the right places.

“I missed you…” Steven's voice came from the depth of his chest and went right through your core as his fingertips slipped under the waistband of your pajama shorts, caressing and teasing your skin, his other arm securely holding your chest pressed to his.

“I didn't even–” Your words of protest died in your throat at how he desperately squeezed you to himself, licking into your mouth just not to let you say anything more, swallowing your soft moan when you felt the hardness of his cock warmly settling between your thighs.

“I missed you, love...” Steven repeated again as your body shivered at how his fingertips firmly dug into the meat of your asscheek and made your hips grind into him. His mouth kissing the skin of your neck and throat. “So much…” He mumbled, trailing down kisses the length of your neck to your collarbone to gently nibble on. “So, so much…” His lips were hot and wet over the top swells of your breasts, his teeth occasionally nipping at them.

A soft groan left Steven's mouth over your cleavage as he didn't know which breast to free first to kiss and suck on, his hand gripping the neckline of your shirt and your bra in one desperate grip to yank them down. To finally be able to show his love to his favorite parts of your body.

“Steven, wait… Let me–” He knew you wanted to properly take off your pajamas, but he couldn’t wait anymore. He was too desperate to have you again. Missed you too much to even allow himself to pull away slightly even for you to take your clothes off. He didn't even remove his hand from your shorts as it brushed against your hip to travel from your ass to your front.

Your moans made him tremble with need when your head fell back onto the pillows. Your hips ground onto his palm, letting your cunt soak his hand just the way it soaked through your panties, making him whimper into your ear as his own hips was grinding onto your thigh and the back of his own hand inside your shorts.

“Steven!” You moaned his name when his fingers teased and rubbed your clit, sending sparks of pleasure up to your vision as he tested your wetness with his finger. “What's gotten into you?!” You barely had time to mumble between the deep kisses when he pulled away suddenly, his hands so fast to yank down your panties and shorts in one go when you squeaked in surprise.

“I just missed you!” Steven's voice was so deep and raspy that even he himself doubted if it was him talking and not Jake when he pulled off your top clothings as well.

“I just,” His chest heaved, his eyes glued to the dripping arousal between your folds as his tongue dragged along his lower lip like it could already taste you. Which got your core pulse for him and your thighs to press together.

“Oh, no no no, love,” Steven's hands were quick to hold your ankles, to firmly press them down to the mattress and spread you to his gaze. “Don't.” He warned firmly, his lips pressing a kiss to the side of your knee, distracting you enough till his hands deftly locked his ankle restraint to your foot. Your eyes widening when he tightened it.

“Steven, now you're just being silly!” You breathed out, still panting from everything that was happening and was going to happen. “It won't even hold– I know how to open it.”

“I know.” The calm undertone in his voice, the mischief glinting in his eyes and the quirk of his smirk over his kiss-swollen lips made you squirm and pull at the restraint unintentionally. “It's not for keepin’ your legs open for me. You're a good girl, love. You'd do that for me on your own, yeah?” He whispered, tugging at the restraint, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your skin again. “This is just a little reminder…” Steven drawled his words lazily, his cheek rubbing your knee, “For you to remember your place…” his hands traveling up your ankle and calf to your thigh, teasingly, lazily and slowly, stopping so close to where you were aching for his touch. “To where you actually belong. In bed. All spread out for me.”

“Steven…” Your whimper made him chuckle, his eyes boring into your pleading eyes before glancing at your cunt that was begging for his attention.

His cock was twitching needily in his sweatpants but he wouldn't give in this easily. He wouldn't let you forget how much he yearned for your attention tonight and you just kept playing.

And that's what Steven was going to do. He would play with you till you begged for him and screamed his name. Till your sweet whimpers and moans chased the jealousy for some pixels on the tv in his heart away.

Just like the way you spent time playing your videogame, he was going to be spending his time playing with you.

His head dipped between your thighs as his tongue played with your folds and licked them so wet and hot while he moaned to your taste. Steven moaned into your core just to make you moan louder to the vibration and clench around his tongue while he rubbed your clit with his fingers, his arm looped around your thigh.

It took all his willpower not to rut against the mattress where his hips pressed into, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as you came on his tongue, writhing, your trembling thighs squeezing his head deeper into you.

He didn't let you move an inch away from his mouth as he licked and kissed and tongued you over and over again even while your fingers gripped his curls firmly, crying out from release after release.

He was so intoxicated with your scent and taste on his nose and tongue that he had forgotten the ache in his own groin for a while when he let you pull his head finally away from your overstimulated and sensitive pussy.

Steven's eyes were full of love for you as he watched your closed eyes, while you tried to catch your breath. There was satisfaction written over his grinning lips as his head moved with the rhythm of your deep panting, his cheek pressed to your naval, his hands kneading and soothing your slightly trembling thighs.

“What round is it?” He panted into your skin as he trailed such tender kisses up to your breasts like he wasn't eating you out like a starved man a few seconds ago, his tongue shoved deep into your hole.

“Hm, huh?” Steven's chuckle came out as an amused breath at the dazed state of you, kissing and licking any inch of skin he found, smearing your release over you just the way his jaw and lips were coated in.

“What round are we in?” His smooches sounded nearer to you as his lips finally took your earlobe between them. “How many times have you come f’ me, love?”

You whine in response to him, your legs trembling again as his fingers trace a delicate caress over your puffy and sensitive clit. “Four? Five?” He cooed into your ear, earning a deep moan when he dragged the tips of his middle finger and ring finger around your entrance, easily going in and out of your slicked channel.

“Five!” You yelled, your breasts pressing up into his chest, your back arched to guide his fingers to that spot inside you that made you see the stars.

“And how many times did you restart that quest tonight?” Steven's grin widened over seeing your confused expression, your brows knotted in pleasure that was inches away from his fingertips. “Your beloved videogame.” He reminded you with a soft press of the heel of his palm over your clit. “How many times did you restart?”

“Shit! Steven!” You cried in frustration into his jawline, making his body tremble to the way your hot breath hit his ear and your walls clenched around his fingers.

“It was seven, love.” The sting of being ignored and watching you restart a quest for seven times surely was dulled in his heart in the meantime after watching you come undone for him five times. It got duller as you screamed his name again when released crashed over your body for the sixth time and wetted his hand and soaked his sweatpants where his thighs were pressed to your quaking form.

“That was…?” His fingers left you after he rode your high, arms quick to pull his cotton-y soft shirt off of himself. The shuffle and drag of fabric over his skin drew your half lidded gaze up his naked body, his smirk bordering on mischievous and adorable as he mouthed ‘sixth’ to your smiling face. “And that means,” Steven crawled on you again, that shit eating, love struck, grin nearing your face as his body settled over yours, his cock hot and hard pressing to the inside of your thigh and smearing his precum over your skin. “You get to come fo’ me one more time.” He mumbled onto your lips, his hands caressing your sides and arms, your body a complete wreck at his mercy one more time.

Your mouth fell open with a deep moan when his thick cock nudged your clit, both your breaths hitching in your throats as he licked into your mouth to let you whimper to the fading taste of yourself in his mouth. His hands were all over your body, caressing you with his sure and firm hands, his skin burning yours from where he was pressed all over you.

With a gentle nudge of his hips, his cock slid so smoothly into you that got you already writhing under him, your hands clawing his back desperately as he started to move in and out of you.

Steven buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting down on your flesh not to lose himself too quickly when his thrusts started to quicken.

Hips stuttering over yours, his hands gripping yours from his buttocks to slam them above your head with a deep moan when you came again. Your walls tightened around him to a point that he only could muffle his whimper in your neck, your thighs shaking around his as he released ropes of cum into you.

Steven stayed like that for a short while, panting and smelling you.

“Oh, love, are you a'right?” With a sudden move he released your hands, rising on his forearms to make sure you haven't crushed under him, his concerned gaze searching your blessed out face.

You huffed a chuckle, wrapping your freed arms around his neck to softly kiss his swollen lips so tenderly that he couldn't believe he was feeling it.

“I'm fine, Steven.” Your voice was a bit hoarse probably from moaning his name all the time which got him smiling so brightly with a nod.

He left a trail of kisses down your forehead and nose to your chin and neck before pulling away gently, not making more of a mess with your juices, settling in next to you.

“How was that, love? Better than that silly game of yours right?” Steven's tone was playfully proud, making sure that he wasn't actually insulting your favorite game. "I made you forget about it."

“Maybeeee…” You muttered as your eyes fluttered close, the last thing you felt were his arms wrapping around you and the soft chuckle in his chest. “Maybe?! Just maybe?!” He squeezed you to himself, gaining a mock annoyed groan that turned into giggling. “Fine! It was so so much better. And yes. You made me forget it.” You mumbled into his chest, getting a grin and a kiss to your forehead that you didn't catch when you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

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Hope you enjoyed it!

#fanfic #thank you so much for writing this #moon knight #steven grant

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