You can call me Noelle or whatever variation nickname you wish. Decided to finally create a blog to contain my love for Rafayel and the game itself.
Some rules I do have set (though not many!)
I do not roleplay
This is a no harassment zone. Everyone regardless of race, gender and sexuality should be able to safely interact with my blog without facing shitty comments.
ALL OPINIONS ARE VALID. We all have headcannons, theories, nobody should be bullied or shamed for having a different interpretation.
You'll find a lot of fics, headcanons, yap posts etc. here. Feel free to send me questions, ideas or comments (yes even as a anon) I love interacting with others! <3
"Would you call yourself an alpha?" You ask Valko curiously, perched on the couch while he sits on the floor between your legs. The TV blares a superhero movie that neither of you have watched and aren't really paying any attention to.
Valko tilts his head back to look up at you, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. "Why do you ask?" He replies and you shrug, running a hand through his thick locks.
"Wolf dynamics." You shrug then smile. "Also fanfiction."
Valko smiles mischievously. "Is this your roundabout way of asking if I have a knot?"
You blink, surprised. "How did you get that from me mentioning fanfiction?"
"You fall asleep with your phone unlocked sometimes," Valko confesses, his trailing fingers leaving sparks across your right leg. "And while I don't snoop—"
"Liar."
"—I do have good eyesight and I happen to know what A/B/O dynamics mean."
Silence is the only response he gets for a moment and Valko looks far too smug at the warring emotions dancing across your face. You look both impressed and mortified.
"But to answer your question, I guess I could be seen as an alpha." Valko turns his sights back to the TV. "So roll around in that for a bit."
He isn't shocked when the TV suddenly turns off and you're standing up.
"Valko."
He's already grinning, wolfish.
"Hmm?"
"Get in the bedroom."
He's scrambling to his feet in a rush of excitement.
because I have nothing better to do, these are my headcanons for Valko to spite Infold.
Absolutely adores the height difference between you two, perching his chin on top of your head, randomly picking you up and teasing you about your height.
At first calls you somewhat condescending names like “doll” or “your highness” just to annoy you (bonus points if you act like a brat) but then it turns into a term of endearment, frequently calling you doll or your highness because aren’t you just one?
Will randomly start pretending to box you, in a ready stance and throwing fake punches at you while you do your own thing. You’ve just learnt to ignore it.
Play fights with you. Constantly pins you down when tackling you to the bed, pretending to struggle when you both know he could easily win this, but instead, he tickles you to win.
Is the type to make new year jokes like ‘I haven’t showered since last year,’ and he cracks up at his own jokes.
Insanely clingy. From the moment yu open your eyes in the morning, he’s already right on top of you. Prying him off is almost impossible because he’s like a magnet. (Get it? Cuz his evol is metallization? Ok I’ll shut up now.) he does NOT let you go. And he has no sense of personal space. Not that you’re complaining.
Feigns obliviousness way too much to make you mad. And when you are mad, although you are insanely hot, he’s quickly shushing you with gifts and kisses.
“Aw come on, cuddle me? I don’t bite.”
Calls you “m’lady” (holy cat noir). He’s also instead of taking the elevator or stairs like a normal person to your apartment, has resorted to climbing up your balcony and knocking annoyingly on the glass door until you open it. “Thank you, sweets.”
Loves salty snacks. Caleb likes sour, Xavier likes spicy, Zayne likes sweets, Rafayel is a cannibal and Sylus eats everything. So it fits perfectly!
Has gotten noise complaints from your neighbours downstairs because whenever he’s happy, his tail thumps on the ground (upstairs neighbour activities).
Gets insane cuteness aggression from you. You could have the nastiest rbf ever and he wants to squish your cheeks.
Occasionally insecure about himself, but has started working on it as you compliment him every day, cradling his face and brushing his hair.
His favourite thing to do when he gets home is lie his head on your lap, hoping for head scratches, and nuzzles your thighs when he gets them. (My behbeh I love you)
Of course you did, he was your husband of 3 years now, your everything. And if his wedding vows were anything to go by, you were his world too.
And yet you missed him, badly.
He was preparing for a new exhibition, one with another famous artist he spoke highly of. You loved to see his eyes light up when he talked about art.
But he started coming home later than usual, not noticing how late it was due to how immersed he got into his work. You loved him, and you loved how passionate he was. But he still came home later and later.
You didn't say anything because he meant no harm, he truly didn't mean to put you on the back burner. His work was a part of him, you didn't want to take away his creative outlet or make him feel like he had to sacrifice his work for you.
.
One day, you decided to bring him dinner at the studio. You missed him, and while it wouldn't be the first dinner he missed, you were sure he would be grateful you were thinking of him. He probably forgot to eat all day, too focused on his paintings and exhibition planning.
You let yourself in to the studio (he really should lock the door), calling out for Rafayel to announce your arrival.
You find him upstairs, admiring a piece with Rita standing next to him.
With Rita laying her head on his shoulder, holding on to his arm.
You freeze for a moment before clearing your throat. Rafayel turns to you, removing himself from her hold to welcome you.
"Cutie~! To what do I owe this visit?" Damn him and his pretty eyes.
You smile up at him, holding out the bag of food packed for him. "It's late so I brought you dinner, like the best wife ever." You teased.
His smile faltered. "Sorry cutie, Rita and I already had dinner earlier."
"Oh."
"Sorry! I would've sent him home earlier if I knew he had a curfew." Rita laughed, winking at you.
"No, it's fine! I'll just bring these back home. See you later Raf!" Turning on your heel, you left as quickly as you could.
It was nothing, but unease started pooling in your gut regardless.
.
You brought the leftovers to Solana, after confirming she hadn't had dinner yet. You wanted someone to enjoy the meal you made. And if it gave her one less thing to do today, at least you weren't worthless.
.
Rafayel was late again. He didn't wake up to his alarm, hitting snooze again and again.
You tried waking him up slowly, kissing down his face, his neck. You trailed your hands up under his pajama shirt, his skin heated against your cold fingers.
It was a Sunday, and you missed him. Surely he could take a day off or have a late start? (He's cancelled on Thomas more times than you could count so that you could have some...alone time)
It wasn't until you straddled his hips that he started to stir, gazing up at you through half-lidded eyes. He shifted under you, hands grabbing your hips.
You smiled down at him, excited to finally, finally have him to yourself, at least for a little while. You leaned in, kissing him with all the pent up energy you've accumulated these past couple of months.
He pulls away, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.
You freeze, worried you'd overstepped.
He jumps up from under you, pushing you away while cursing about being late to meet Rita at the studio.
As he runs into the bathroom, turning the shower on, you can't help but feel naked. Dismissed. Forgotten. Unimportant.
He wasn't even excited. Hell, it usually took him a lot less to get in the mood. But nothing.
You pull the sheets over yourself, feeling too vulnerable to unpack all at once.
The unease has settled deep into your bones now, you couldn't shake it off.
Was he not attracted to you anymore?
You stopped waiting up for him.
.
You're not sure what prompted the change, but he started coming home earlier.
Your birthday was this week, he insisted on going to the best restaurant to celebrate with you.
It was just enough to give you hope that this will blow over soon. The exhibition would be held in a month, and you would have your lovey dovey husband back.
So why were you still on edge? Why were you waiting for the other shoe to drop?
Maybe you got too used to the distance, to the silence.
You tentatively agreed to dinner. Kept your hopes in check, making sure you didn't raise them too high.
Still, you couldn't help but get excited.
You woke up on your birthday to find the other side of the bed already cold.
Not surprising, Rafayel was grumbling last night about having to be at the venue early with Thomas. ("Unsuitable work conditions" and "cruel and unusual punishment" he called it)
The day went on as usual, an influx of "happy birthday!" calls and texts and moments posts pinging your phone.
And yet, nothing from Rafayel.
.
You send Rafayel a handful of texts as you're getting ready that evening.
5:17 PM Should I meet you at the restaurant?
5:17 PM or are you going to come pick me up?
5:36 PM I'm on my way to the restaurant now, the reservation was for 6:00 right?
5:52 PM I'm here a bit early, they just sat me at the table. See you soon :)
5:54 PM The waiter kinda looks like Thomas, it's a little freaky haha
6:11 PM are you on your way Raf?
6:26 PM okay this isn't fashionably late anymore
.
7:39 PM I'm going home. Where are you?
You feel humiliated. But you also feel bad for the waiter, holding a table when he could've made more money on another couple. He was sympathetic, giving you basically a free meal (you took most of it to go, you didn't have much of an appetite). You leave a $100 on the table before he can give it back to you.
.
10:48 PM I'm staying in the guest bedroom tonight.
.
Still, no answer. You get ready for bed, bringing your charger and tomorrow's work clothes to the guest bedroom.
You lock the door before you go to sleep, wondering how your marriage got to this point.
.
You make yourself as busy as Rafayel is, sneaking out of the house to get to the Hunter's Association before he even wakes up.
You take on more missions, working yourself to the bone. If you're too busy to think, you can't fall apart, right?
You're tired, and everyone notices. Luckily, they mind their own business and don't say anything.
Until you faint from exhaustion at training.
Jenna sends you to the hospital to make sure you're okay, despite your protests.
You sit in the hospital bed, the bright lights giving you a faint headache. It's nothing you can't handle. But the thought of them calling your emergency contact has you more anxious than sitting in the silent, sterile room.
You don't want to see Rafayel.
.
And you don't. The receptionist tried to reach him, left him 3 voicemails with updates. They asked you if there was anyone else you could call to take you home.
You called Zayne instead. You feel bad bothering him, but he was your childhood friend and primary care doctor.
He takes a look at your discharge papers and pauses. Silence is not new from him, but this felt heavier than normal.
"You shouldn't be pushing yourself in your condition." His soft murmur confused you.
"What do you mean? You know about my heart condition, and cleared me for work."
"They didn't tell you." Not a question, a statement. You tilt your head, silently asking him to elaborate.
He passes you the discharge papers, pointing at the page he was on. "They did a pregnancy test, it's positive."
.
The drive to your house is in complete silence. Zayne can sense you have a lot on your mind, and thankfully doesn't push you to talk.
You thank him for driving you, promising to take care of yourself. As you walk through your front door, your phone buzzes with a text from him.
11:17 PM If you need anything, I'm here for you
11:17 PM I mean it.
You're grateful for his quiet support, and for the empty house that you have come home to.
.
You don't even see Rafayel anymore, and you don't hear anything from him for a couple of weeks. Until he sends you the exhibition information the week of.
You're finally about to get your husband back.
So why don't you feel excited?
.
You decide to tell him once you both come home from the exhibition night, hoping he'll be excited.
You take a positive pregnancy test, placing it in a gift bag with a "my dad is cooler than yours" baby onesie. You leave it on the dining room table for your return later.
.
You're more anxious than excited as you stand in the crowd, waiting for Rafayel and Rita to open the exhibition.
Taking peeks into the venue, you can't help but marvel at how well everything came together.
"Hello everyone! And thank you for coming to tonight's event." Rafayel's voice is strong and reassuring, the microphone projecting his speech to the audience.
Eventually, he hands the microphone off to Rita to say a few words. Thanking everyone for their support and donations, she goes on and on until-
"Oh! And thank you to Rafayel." She giggles. "For being my muse, my inspiration." The way she clings to his arm is making your eye twitch. "And I'm happy to announce that we are officially dating!" She squeals.
And then she kisses him.
Reporters begin taking photos, the bright lights making your head swim. Before you know what you're doing, you're already walking towards the exit.
Rafayel is dumbfounded. Well and truly shocked that he did not see this coming.
Snatching the microphone back, he tries to correct her before you leave.
"That is 1000% not true. We are not dating. I am actually veeeerrry happily married to my beautiful amazing wife y/n-" he can already see you at the door. "wait please don't leave I can explain-"
Now, while your marriage wasn't a secret, it wasn't public knowledge either. Rafayel didn't wear his ring often, claiming he didn't want to ruin it with paint.
The crowd turns, looking for who Rafayel's wife could be. You slip out the door before they can be disappointed.
.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
No answer, you sigh before texting Caleb.
7:12 PM I'm on my way to Skyhaven
7:13 PM not sure if you're on a mission, but you don't mind if I let myself in right? I just need a place to crash for a while, I'm sorry if you have plans.
7:27 PM I'm getting on the train now, I'll see you when I get there. Or whenever you get home.
.
Your leg won't stop bouncing. You're almost shivering, the dress you wore not providing much warmth on the freezing train.
You took a cab to Caleb's house, punching in the security code and letting yourself in. He hasn't responded to your texts yet, but you're sure the security cameras will let him know you're there.
You wash off your makeup, change into a pair of Caleb's oversized pajamas, and go to sleep.
.
[from glub glub]
7:21 PM cutie she's lying. Or delusional
7:21 PM I would never do that to you.
7:21 PM you know that, right?
7:22 PM I wouldn't
7:22 PM I love you
7:22 PM I need you
7:23 PM please say something
7:23 PM please come back, we can talk about this
7:24 PM I know I haven't been the best husband recently cuz of work but I would never cheat on you.
7:24 PM Never working with her again obvi
7:31 PM *missed call from glub glub*
7:35 PM did you go home? I'm going home as soon as Thomas lets me leave
7:59 PM *one attachment*
7:59 PM is this real????!!
8:00 PM *missed call from glub glub*
8:00 PM where are you?
8:00 PM at least let me know you're safe...
8:01 PM *missed call from glub glub*
9:34 PM I'll wait for you
.
1:19 AM I'll give you some space, but just know that 1. I would NEVER cheat on you. 2. I love you. and 3. I'm here whenever you're ready to talk or come home.
As a famous and well-sought after artist, Rafayel had the luxury of taking as many or as little commissions that he wanted. Well, at least within the constraints of his manager Thomas, who was more than eager to broaden Rafayel's network and prestige.
Rafayel, himself, didn't seem to care about accepting all of these commissions just to please the masses or garner the attention of artist snobs. If he felt the inspiration for it, he'd do it right away. If not, Thomas is bickering at him for days about an upcoming deadline that was more or less forgotten.
His current commission was unfortunately the latter.
It was some billionaire this time, an older woman who took great pride in creating a lucrative enterprise all on her own. She had spoken with Thomas about hiring Rafayel for a few wall-sized pieces to be put in her new luxury resort chain down by some expensive islands, the kind that television advertisements would romanticize.
She didn't give Rafayel any specific concepts or sketches, simply that this was a luxury resort to invoke romance for couples and beach living. Seemed easy enough, if only Rafayel could find the motivation to do them.
Romance and love wasn't exactly something Rafayel was overflowing with.
He had this everlasting bond tethered to MC, a woman who happened to be the little girl he had met when he was a young Lemurian. It seemed like he was waiting lifetimes to see her again, but despite that, the bond was merely a faint afterthought in this current life.
MC was in love with this doctor from Akso Hospital, a childhood friend apparently, according to her after he practically pestered her to spill the beans on her private life.
It left a bitter feeling in his heart, knowing he wasn't the only one who shared these moments of youth with her. Especially when she never returned back to the beach they met, a promise that was never fulfilled ever again.
She had forgotten him it seemed, and only ever remembered bits and pieces when they met as adults. Though their meeting wasn't exactly a happy reunion, she was simply a woman getting leads for her job.
A hunter meeting an artist. Once acquaintances, and now maybe somewhat friends. Begrudgingly, he supposed. He's probably messaged her more times than she did, her answers often short and brief.
Rafayel told himself it was fine, that not being the one in her heart as long as she was happy and thriving was enough for him. It didn't heal the growing loneliness within himself however.
He thought he hid it well, always masking such pain with playful sarcasm and well-placed smiles. No one in the media could tell the difference, he was just a famous artist with the exuberance of a man that was extremely talented and desired.
Though, the ones close in his life, like his aunt Thalia and Thomas, knew that when he was not in front of cameras or a canvas, he was a much different person than what is perceived.
There were many days where he would lay motionless in his bed with shut doors, his dissociative eyes lingering past the vast ocean from his windows as morning and night passed like an excruciating blur.
He was just escaping out of such a rut, at the insistence of Thomas who came by that morning after not hearing him for the past week.
It wasn't a big deal to him. So what if he didn't move or eat much for those few days? He'll get back to normal soon enough.
It's why he decided to don on some casual beach clothes and take his DSLR camera with him after all of Thomas's nagging and begrudging reluctance to eat breakfast.
He eventually reasoned with Thomas enough that if he took some pictures out by the beaches of Whitesand Bay today, he should at least be able to have enough inspiration to start the commissioned paintings.
Which wasn't a total lie, it's just part of it was so he could get some fresh air and more time to himself. Luckily, Thomas nodded with a tired sigh, parting with him at his house to who knows where in order to do all the busy work that comes with maintaining an artist.
Rafayel spent what seemed like hours walking across the coastline, trekking past the threshold of his home to the more public areas of the beach. With time, he started to see more faces around.
Couples, families, tourists... All of them living in their own little bubbles while he walked past them by his lonesome.
He did as he said he would, taking pictures of the oceanic landscape and inhabitants enjoying it.
Smiles and lighthearted laughter accompanied the rhythmic crashing of waves, the subtle sizzle and pop of damp sand being touched with seafoam. The golden sun was set high, a few clouds swirling in the blue skies. Winds smelled of salt and memories, his mind whisking him to a nostalgic, yet melancholy time.
Everything around him felt like a painting. Tangible and beautiful, but completely out of his grasp to step into. He felt as though he had no part of it, no ties like everyone else did.
He had no lover's hand to hold while walking, no child of his own following him around with sea shells to show him, not even a friend to converse with under a large, colorful parasol.
He was... alone. Painfully so.
With a long, somber exhale, Rafayel adjusts his camera's strap around his neck before bringing it up to take more photos. At this point it was becoming tedious work rather than bringing him anything joyful.
Another view of the ocean. Click.
Sprawling sands with people doing various activities. Click.
A woman crouched down with her phone pointed towards the sand...
Before his index finger could press the capture button, he paused and continued to stare through the viewfinder.
She seemed like an ordinary woman, wearing her light blue jean shorts, a loose summer camisole, and a cream colored crocheted sweater over top it all.
Her hair wisped around her face from the ocean breeze, her sandal covered feet shifting against the sand as she moved her phone horizontally and vertically a bunch of times.
He wouldn't think much of it, if not for her expression.
Her eyes were bright, blinking with crinkled eyes and a wide smile that made the apples of her cheeks that much more rounder. An ordinary face, or so he wanted to believe.
Rafayel couldn't help but be curious to what was so interesting on the ground, his camera zooming and pointing downward. With a focused squint of his eye through the viewfinder, his eyebrow slowly raised in surprised realization.
Crabs. Speckled and spotted ones.
She was enamored by the little scuttle of them heading sideways away from her. Her fingers could be seen frantically capturing the movement, following as they scurried further and further towards the shore.
Even from this distance, he could see the inaudible chuckle she lets out to herself as she was procuring her album with a scroll and tap of her index finger. He didn't know why, but he almost wished he could see what was so funny. As though he wanted to join in on her fun.
Rafayel blinks back into focus when he realizes she's moved from his camera view, his head raising up to notice she was heading off further down the beach. Without much of a plan, his feet started taking him forward, following her every little action.
Every so often she pauses when she finds a colorful shell, stuffing it into her pocket before surveying the sands again. He kept himself a short distance away, stopping and trailing behind when necessary.
He tried to appear nonchalant, pointing his camera elsewhere with a small melodic hum while he looked at her from the corner of his eye.
There was nothing fascinating about what she was doing. People shell collect and take pictures of the beach all the time. It was nothing special. So then why was he picking up on all her subtle mannerisms?
Her hand repeatedly brushed her hair away from her face when the winds would pick up, which only made her sweater sleeves drop back and forth down from her elbows to her knuckles.
Clumps of sand were definitely getting into her sandals and in between her toes, making her waddle similarly to a duck. That managed to get a undignified snort out of him that he was hardly able to restrain with a back of his hand.
It was only when she stopped for a final time, crouching down in front of a group of hermit crabs that his body practically froze on the spot.
What now? Wait until she's finished taking pictures again?
Surely to anyone taking notice of this would say he looks a bit creepy, standing off to the side just staring at her.
But what would he say? He wasn't a stranger to talking with, well, strangers.
He didn't understand where this hesitation he was feeling right now was coming from.
It was almost as if he was afraid to disturb her peace with his presence. Would she even want him there or be bothered by some random man coming up to her?
His fingers tapped along the edges of his camera, lips pursing in thought.
He was tempted to leave now as the awkwardness seeped into his very body, but when he sees her eyes sparkle over the crabs and a soft giggle leave her lips, something told him the embarrassment of not knowing what would happen was worse than leaving and never seeing her again.
With a small huff of breath through his nose, he finds the courage to get his own sandals moving across the warm sand.
"Taking pictures of crabs?" He asks once he was a few feet from her.
His voice makes her head whip up, the upturn of her round eyes causing a momentary lapse in his attempted suave demeanor.
Cute.
Why was the first thing that came to mind was that she looked cute?
And why was he feeling more fidgety and clammier than before?
"Ah, sorry, am I in your way?" She frantically voices out, quickly getting up into a standing position with her phone held tightly in one hand.
His eyes darted down to the hermit crabs scurrying off at the sudden commotion before slowly raising them back up to her, offering a small smile.
"Oh, no, it's fine. You're not." He notes, bringing a hand to nervously run through his hair, "Sooo, I was just curious... What's the pictures for?"
"Hm? Oh, uh, just for myself."
"Ah, right. I guess a lot of people do, huh. Do you... post them?"
"Um, well... sometimes, on my Moments account." She mumbles, her gaze flitting to her phone.
Was her cheeks getting flushed the longer they talked? It was hard not to notice in the bright sunlight.
Rafayel had to hold back an intrigued smirk, choosing instead to tilt his head in teasing inquisitive.
"Ooh, I see. A famous influencer, huh?"
She lets out a sudden snort, or really more like a chortle, at the tease. Their eyes both widened at the same time as soon as the sound left her throat, but his was more out of surprise compared to her more flustered mortification.
"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh like that."
His smile rose significantly, shaking his head.
"It's okay. Glad you liked my humor. I'm Rafayel, by the way."
"...Nonmc." She murmurs, giving a subtle smile back in greeting, "Nice to meet you."
His shoulder straightened at the pleasant introductions, somewhat pleased to have accomplished such a thing. Well, at least first impressions were going good so far.
"You know, phone cameras are good, but they always miss the finer details." He explains, tapping a hand against the side of the DLSR camera hanging around his neck, "Wanna try mine?"
Her eyebrows rose, lips parting into adorable confusion.
"Huh? Oh, I... I don't know. I feel like I'll break it or something."
"Don't worry, just follow my lead. Here, you can put the strap around your neck."
Nonmc sputters quietly, wanting to protest but failing to do so as he enthusiastically tugged the camera strap off his shoulders and gently put it around hers instead.
She could only blink rapidly as he helped lift her hair up that was getting caught under the strap, his fingers brushing against the edges of her crocheted sweater.
"Heavy?" He asks with a gentle cadence.
"...A little."
"You'll get the hand of it, I'm sure. Here, put your hands on each side of the camera like how I did."
She follows his gestures with tentative movements, raising her eyebrows in silent approval. He nods in agreement, moving to her side and pointing at sections of the camera with his index finger.
"Just like that! Now, you can look through here. The zoom scroll is up there and you click this button to capture."
She hums softly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
Rafayel was quite near to her shoulder, the speckles of pink and blue in his eyes becoming a bit mesmerizing. She swallowed thickly, calming her nervous beating heart and focusing on his instructions.
After a few adjustments and a steady squint of her eye through the viewfinder, there is an audible click that sounds off as she takes a picture. She pulls back slightly, scrunching her nose at the small screen where her created image popped up from.
A simple landscape shot of the shoreline, the edges shaky and slightly tilted.
"...I think it came out blurry." She mentions with a disappointed pout.
He glanced away from the camera's screen, taking in her features while she was busy scrolling the zoom pad to examine her mistakes. The pucker of her plush lips, the slope of her round nose, the eyelashes upon her eyes that looked full of bubbly life.
"I messed it up, Rafayel." She added, turning to him with furrowed eyebrows.
"That's okay. It was the first try."
Nonmc still hums sadly, one of her hands reaching for the camera strap as though she was ready to hand it back after her failed attempt. He immediately hovers up a hand to stop her, shaking his head quickly.
"Don't stop now. You just started!"
"But I already tested it out..."
"Mm-mm, you only took one photo. Try taking some more. Come onnn, don't tell me you're actually busy right now."
"Well, I..." She glances around the beach, the picturesque atmosphere too tempting to explore with the camera, "I guess I wasn't."
"Then I'll follow your lead! The SD card has a lot of memory, so do it to your heart's content!"
"Are you sure..?"
"Positive! I won't take my camera back until I'm satisfied."
She puffs up her cheeks in thought, the adorable expression stirring up his heart for reasons he couldn't explain. Only once she nodded back did he smile widely in accomplishment.
Just as Rafayel said he would, he followed her lead around even when he knew the beaches and coasts of Whitesand Bay like the back of his hand.
He's been here countless of times, it didn't matter if it was early morning or the dwindling hours of night. This, however, was the first time he walked here with the purpose of seeing through the eyes of someone else.
Where his walks was usually for quiet, solemn contemplation, hers was brimming with curiosity. She had been shy at the start, nervously clicking the capture button with less-than confident intention.
After a half hour of crouching and pointing the camera as far or as close as she wanted to, his words full of encouragement sprinkled in here and there for each picture taken, she started to have this pep in her step that signified just how much she had been warming up to doing this activity.
It was odd. Usually he was more cautious in offering his things to others or at worse, potentially feeling the incidental touch of another. With her, she was respectful, murmuring little apologies and giving reassuring smiles to show she meant no harm if her shoulder brushed his or something similar.
Her hands were gentle around his camera too, holding it with such care as to not let it dangle precariously around her neck or allow sand to enter the small crevices.
Nonmc was receptive to advice he had on any pictures she took, sometimes even giggling at his teasing remarks rather than taking them as serious jabs. At some point, he was simply fishing for more conversations, listening to her hum or mumble an answer in response to his mindless babbling.
He learned of little tidbits. Work, family, hobbies... even nonsensical facts like what color her shell would be if she was a hermit crab herself.
She took it all in stride, answering with as much enthusiasm she could muster around flushed, embarrassed cheeks. Even when he alluded to his fame as an artist, which she seemed at least a bit aware of, she still didn't pry on anything that anyone else would have taken the chance to.
People usually cared to know about how much money he had or what other famous people he knew, but she never asked. Instead, she began with questioning what were his favorite types of paints and brushes to use.
It seemed like all she wanted to know was what made him become an artist in the first place. She was interested in the inner workings of his mind, or at least what he'd allow her to see. He never expected that each time he'd offer up a new fact to learn about him, that her eyes would sparkle in awe.
It was different. To be seen as Rafayel, rather than Rafayel, the artist.
Soon enough, the sun that was high within the sky had dipped close to the ocean's horizon, leaving the beach in a dark orange glow. He takes that chance to eventually seat himself on the cooling sand, gesturing for her to take the spot next to him.
"Come on, let's sit here and review what you've taken so far."
Nonmc hums in agreement, lowering herself down so she could sit and tug the camera strap off from around her neck. Her thumb would then start to press down on the arrow button for the camera's dial every so often, pursing her lips at each image popping up on the screen.
"I think I took too many photos."
"It's fineee. We can choose and delete any you don't like. Sound good?"
"I guess so..."
And so that's what led them to just procuring her photography session for the next half hour, the gentle waves crashing against the shoreline and the occasional conversation of people passing by giving that comfortable, almost cozy feeling to the atmosphere.
"Sooo... what brought you to Whitesand Bay in the first place anyways?" He asks as she was silently looking over the photos, his hands fidgeting with a colorful rock that was nearby.
"Hm? Oh, it's my day off today so I decided to come to the beach. I figured I'd go to one of the best ones."
"You do that often? Going to beaches?"
"Ugh, I wish, but sadly no. Actually, it's probably been a few years since I really visited a beach before."
"Oh? City life problems?"
"Yeah." She answers with a soft huff of laughter, "Something like that."
Nonmc lets out a long sigh, lowering the camera to rest over her lap so she could gaze out at the waters.
"I remember I used to come to the beach all the time when I was younger. My friends and I used to play mermaids."
Rafayel snorts, the mention of that little game feeling a bit ironic when she was literally sitting next to what would be a merman.
"Mermaids..?" He repeated with a playful raise of his eyebrows.
"Hah, yeah, we'd bring our own twine and jewelry kits to make stuff from the ocean. Shells, rocks... you name it. We'd spent all day crowning ourselves with our jewelry and pretend to be different mermaid princesses presenting our gifts."
Somehow learning that she was playing pretend-Lemurian did amuse him. He even wondered what she'd look like as one.
What kind of shimmering scales would she have? Purple? Aqua? Maybe blue like his?
He thought it would have been nice if she was actually Lemurian, knowing he could have grown up with someone like her. He kind of liked the idea, to be honest.
Nonmc clears her throat right after, her eyes going downcast with a dejected smile.
"I must seem pretty weird to you, huh." She mentions in a dull tone, making him furrow his eyebrows slightly in confusion.
"Why do you say that?"
"I... I'm very quiet and... I usually don't talk to people for very long. It's why I stumble on my words and go into these long tangents that no one really cares about. I'm just... I'm not like you."
"What? 'Not like you'? Please, I'm not perfect either."
"That's not true."
"Hah, come onnnn, you're flattering me."
"I mean it."
"Yeah, yeahhh."
"I'm..! I'm telling the truth!" She suddenly exclaims in annoyance, staring at him with wide eyes before darting them away bashfully from her outburst, "I... I mean, I think you are... in my opinion."
Rafayel blinks over at her profile in bewilderment, before suddenly bursting into a bright chuckle. Her face burns from his laughter, her lips settling into a deep frown.
"No, no, don't be upset, I'm not laughing at you." He reassures her, waving his hands up to dismiss the notion, "Honestly, I think you're way off the mark for yourself."
"...Huh?"
"Well, you wanna talk about being perfect? You're actually quite confident yourself."
"Me? No way."
"Why not? Look at you, you're talking to me right now. Telling me about your interests, your whole life. Who can confidently talk about that?"
"That's because I'm getting comfortable. Besides... we'll probably never see each other again anyways, so it's just easier this way."
His eyebrows knit tightly together at that, his head moving in closer with an accusatory gaze.
"What do you mean we won't see each other again? Aren't we friends?"
"H-Huh? Are we..?" She sputters, blinking rapidly at his sudden near proximity.
"Seriously? We took pictures all afternoon and are chit-chatting together. Or is it because we didn't play mermaids? Well, excuuuse me, I didn't know I was supposed to bring twine and jewelry kits to the beach today in order to make a new friend."
His miffed demeanor, that pout and fiery stare... She couldn't help but laugh, covering her mouth as more of it threatened to spill.
"Oh, now you're laughing at me? How dare you!" He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Geez... You know, you're... kind of dorky."
"Me, dorky?!" Rafayel practically cries out, making her shush him as people walking by turned their heads at the commotion, "I am not dorky!"
"Oh my god, Rafayel, It's not an insult. I meant dorky in a... cute kind of way."
He harrumphs, but at least quiets down at hearing her admit he was cute and perfect. How could he not preen at that?
"Well... since you meant well, I'll let it slide. But we are friends now, right?"
Nonmc sighs in halfhearted resignation, nodding along.
"Yes, yes, we're friends, if that's what you want."
"I do want that. And you should know, that friends... are supposed to gift each other things. It's like rule number one." He explains matter-of-factly.
"Huh? But... I don't have anything to give you right now."
Rafayel gives her an unimpressed look before taking ahold of his camera from her lap and placing it down onto his own. She thought she had done something else to somehow irk him, but instead, he starts to take off a bracelet that was around one of his wrists, dropping it into her palm as a replacement.
"Fine, I'll start then. Here. You owe me a gift for next time."
She slowly gazed down at her palm, lips parting in shock at the shiny golden chain decorated with various glittering, iridescent pearls of creamy whites and baby blues.
"Are these..."
"Yup. Actual pearls."
Nonmc couldn't believe her eyes at the intricate bracelet. These many pearls on a singular piece of jewelry would cost a fortune, and yet he had at least a dozen or more attached to it.
Not to mention the chain itself would fetch a hefty price.
The disparity between being a famed, wealthy artist and a regular person was quite clear.
"How did... This many..?" She managed to ask, eyes now as wide as saucers.
"That's a secret. Buuut just know I made it all by myself."
"The whole thing?"
"Mhm. The whole thing. You're not the only one who knows how to use jewelry kits."
"Wow..."
He looked over at her smugly, his hands leaning back behind him so he could leisurely square up his shoulders confidently.
"You can keep it."
Her head lifts up in one quick second at his statement, her expression now in complete disbelief.
"W-What? No, I couldn't take this."
"It's a gift. I want you to have it."
"You... Ugh, you won't let me say no, will you?"
"Nope." He answers readily, making her groan and hang her head down in defeat.
While he enjoyed teasing her, there was more to him giving that bracelet up.
Those pearls, they were the very ones he has cried before. Some old, some recent.
In the past, his tears were like endless mockery of his sorrow and pain. A reminder of all the things he lost and could never have.
He used to hide them away, kick them under some furniture or pack it away into some box so that it would stay buried between numerous things in one his many closets. After a while, he realized that doing so was no better than letting the pain fester like an open wound.
So, instead, he started using them.
Decoration filler for vases, something to line his windowsills, and now usually... jewelry. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets. At this point he was creating a small shop with them.
Rafayel wasn't offering it up for sale or anything, he was just simply creating a small collection that would fill a jewelry drawer to look at later. At least until he runs out of room for them.
Wearing one on his person was a way for him to somehow reclaim his grief, to have an anchor and a reminder that these were merely old memories.
It's why he can readily give it away to her. He wanted to see what she would do with his grief and whether that was something he could share with anyone.
He watches as she wrestles with this sudden offering, giving him a scrunch of her nose in answer.
"All right, fine, I'll take the gift. Even if it's too pretty to give away."
Rafayel huffs a laugh through his nose, a bit of relief untangling the metaphorical thorns surrounding his heart. He wouldn't have known how to react if she had refused the gesture and treated the whole thing like nothing special.
Luckily, she seemed to prove him wrong at every turn.
When he sees her gaze at the bracelet thoughtfully, that's when he tightens his hands against the coarse sand, feeling a sense of encouragement to up the ante.
"...What if I told you those were tears from a Lemurian?" He asks next, trying to mask the hesitating tremble in his tone.
"Lemurian..?" She repeats, tilting her head inquisitively as she glanced over at him, "You mean... an actual mermaid?"
"Oh, you know of them?"
"Kind of. Mostly as occasional blog posts about mythical creatures and stuff. Are you saying they're... real?"
"They could be. What do you think?"
"Hmm... Well, for the sake of going along with what you're saying, sure, I'll say I believe that they could be real."
"Then what if I told you that this specific Lemurian wept for days, enough to make that string of pearls? Can you believe something so beautiful could be created from such melancholy and despair?"
There was a shift in the playful mood, something dark lurking in his beautiful eyes. All he could think about in that moment was how would she react to hearing something so absurd.
Nonmc pursed her lips in turn, raising her eyebrows in mild confusion, perhaps subtle apprehension at the sudden lack of light in his expression.
"...You're joking, right?"
At her cautious question, he gave a smile quite like the ones he had been giving already, trying to ease what had been brewing underneath.
"Duh, of course I am. You're so gullible."
She hums in response, a little laugh through her nose drifting out afterwards. Her eyes followed how his turned to the sea after that, his gaze while crinkled from his genuine smile still lacked that luster from before.
It was easy to tell there was more to Rafayel than what was being shown.
Nonmc didn't know what lurked within his heart or mind, but even still, she felt compelled to listen. To be kind to this handsome stranger she only just met, it felt like the right thing to do.
"If they were really Lemurian tears, then..." She starts, "I'd treasure them with my whole heart."
He blinks back into focus, glancing back to see her open the bracelet clasp and slowly but surely wrap it around one of her wrists.
"...What? You... would?"
"Mhm. I would. After all, tears caused by such pain deserve to be treated with all the care in the world. If anything, I would hope that I could transfer some of my happiness to whoever made these pearls."
"Well... Maybe I was lying. Maybe there's no Lemurian actually."
"Even still... The thought that perhaps there's some truth to that little tale does pull at my heart strings. It makes me wonder about all the pearls created in the world."
Rafayel tries to let out a laugh to brush her off, yet the sound is frayed at the edges. He was barely holding his emotions together.
"T-There's no need to get sentimental. Not all pearls are made that way."
"Then I'm protecting them anyways since you gave them to me." She states resolutely, giving a stubborn pout as she clutched the bracelet around her wrist, "I'll keep it nice and clean in a pretty jewelry box. Maybe I'll place it near my bedside and wish it good night in hopes the Lemurian feels my gratitude."
Nonmc continues her dramatics by pressing the bracelet to her sun-flushed cheek, closing her eyes as though her thoughts could somehow reach the weeping Lemurian. Of course, she would never know that it was actually working, especially when that very one was watching her do her little ritual of compassion.
He had to turn away from her when she did, his hand resting over his mouth to hide the grin that's formed. He could feel his face warm, much more than from the beating sun earlier.
It was a different kind of warmth. The kind that seeped into the cold depths of a heart that was more akin to a deep ocean cavern.
How was her words able to reach there? How is it that he felt touched by her inconsequential actions?
"Natural flirt..." He mumbles into his palm, barely a whisper heard.
"Hm? What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing." He sighs out, looking back at her nonchalantly, "Just thinking about how much of a sap you are."
With the sun setting past the horizon, they took that as their cue to head out from the beach where the breeze was becoming a colder chill.
Rafayel kept to her side while they headed back towards the parking lots, most cars from throughout the day having left at this point. Eventually her keys jingled out from her pocket, her head turning to give an appreciative smile as they finally stood by her car.
"Thank you for spending time with me, Rafayel. I had a lot of fun today."
"Yeah... Me too."
They both stood there awkwardly, unsure how to end it. Nonmc, being the shy person she was, didn't know what was protocol, while he on the other hand was just reluctant to part with her at all.
He decides then to clear his throat, his hand coming up behind his flushed neck.
"So, um, I have to start on my next commissions once I get home. Do you... want to come over to watch me paint? It's not that far. I could even make dinner and stuff."
Her eyebrows rose in surprise, the invitation not lost on her. She wasn't one to get such things often, but even that had her questioning what that would entail. Was it a courteous suggestion or... something more?
"O-Oh, uh, sorry, I would love to, but... I have work tomorrow morning. It's all the way back in Linkon, so..."
"Ah... I see. Well, it's no big deal. It's whatever." He shrugs it off, trying to not show how dejected he was actually feeling inside.
Nonmc bit into her bottom lip nervously, glancing up at him in contemplation. She could easily end the night this way, more or less rejecting the possible advances from him, but...
"Is... the offer only for today?" She asks next, making him lift his eyes up with brightening hope, "I could maybe... visit this weekend. U-Unless you're busy, of course..."
He shakes his head before she could even change her mind, holding back the giddiness from getting to see her again.
"No, no, that's perfect. Yeah, I can wait till the weekend."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"O-Okay! Weekend it is then!" She concludes, giggling softly to ease her own excited nerves.
Rafayel lets out his own cheery laugh, promptly taking his phone out from his pants pocket and handing it to her with the 'new contact' screen open.
"Here. Put your number here." He directs enthusiastically, his words almost jumbled together into one with how quickly he said them.
She nods in agreement, tapping away her information.
"If you text me the address to your house, I'll go as soon as I can." She explains, but he shakes his head once more.
"Don't worry, I'll come pick you up instead."
"Huh? Really?"
"Sure. You're my guest, it's only right that I treat you."
Nonmc snorts, giving his phone back with a playful pout.
"Looks like I'll end up owing you a gift and an invite someplace too now."
His smile turns into a toothy grin at her response, his head tilting to the side in that charming way of his.
"I guess I should keep being nice to you so you'll owe me forever."
"Haha, very funny." She halfheartedly rolls her eyes as she goes to open her car door, heading inside.
Rafayel stays planted there to the side of her car while she starts it up, giving her a wave back when she does the same through her window before watching her drive off down the street.
Once her car was no longer in sight, he stretches his arms up with a satisfied sigh, his cheeks a little sore now from all the smiling he was doing all day.
He quite liked the feeling, actually. It was... rewarding.
It seemed like this time, he won't wait for love to come find him. He'll go running towards it.
tiny LI comfort audio concept I can’t stop thinking about:
you come home overstimulated and exhausted, and he notices before you even say anything.
not dramatic. not a huge plot. just him lowering his voice, guiding you to sit down, telling you to breathe with him, maybe teasing you gently for pretending you’re fine, then getting softer when he realizes you really needed comfort☺️
the kind of scene where nothing “big” happens but somehow you feel held the whole time.
I would fold instantly tbh 😭
A tiny early waitlist for a personalized LI voice comfort audio/ASMR idea I’m building for otome game players, Love and Deepspace girlies, a
Because my comment was deleted, I'm going to say it here:
I used to do voice work. Radio, television, podcasts, mostly ad work with a few acting gigs for radio dramas. So I'm coming from a place of knowing what it means to have my voice out there.
It is one thing to create transformative fan work such as edits or a library-style compilation with work that exists in-game currently. It is another to scrape that hard work done by someone and generate something completely different and then have the gall to say that you made it.
If someone were to do that to me or my voice and generate something totally new, say, an ad for a different business or lines I never said, that would devastate me. That person would be profiting off of MY work without ever involving me in the process. I would be heartbroken.
Fandom is definitely different than what I used to do, but this is an industry that is already undervalued and underpaid and you would be complicit in continuing the push to take advantage of these actors. It is harmful. It is rude. It is not okay.
Today it's LaDS, tomorrow it's smaller actors that already find their jobs and livelihood in danger because of projects like this industry-wide.
You say that you want to listen, and then delete feedback you are receiving. Not cool.
The LaDS English voice actors are already underpaid and underrepresented in a property that hinges so much on their natural talent and honed skill. There’s no way churning their work up in The Plagiarism Machine is anything less than disrespectful. And I say all of these things with complete certainty.
I know there just HAS to be a number of Rafayel fics that are little mermaid au/inspired. I’m starving for Merman Rafayel content guys drop your recommendations if you have some pleaseeeeee!!!
i need your talented hands to write about reader being needy, clingy, and crybaby with lads husbands who always keep their girl in their lap pampering her, bestie i’m ovulating i need this plz
𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, fem reader who cries for no reason. indulgent men who adores their wife. this anon is thinking on the same wavelength as me so im gonna name you star anon. come back to me pookie :p
> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They adore their crybaby wife, after all, they're the ones who spoiled you enough to be this comfortable.
𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The morning sun streamed lazily through the wide windows of your beachside home, reflecting soft blues and silvers across the marble kitchen floor. You sat curled in Rafayel’s lap, your rightful throne, wrapped in one of his oversized white shirts, legs thrown over his and arms tucked to your chest, sniffling like the world had ended.
And to be fair, to you, it sort of had.
“They’re round, Raffy,” you whimpered into his chest, voice trembling with betrayal. “You always make them heart-shaped. Always…”
Rafayel blinked slowly, a half-bitten scone in one hand, his other palm gently stroking your lower back. His long lashes fluttered over his dual-colored eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smile.
“I was in a rush,” he offered lightly, tone bordering on amused and indulgent. “Shell delivery came early. I had to check for the right pigment.”
You glared up at him with teary eyes, bottom lip trembling. “But you forgot.”
He set the scone down and wrapped both arms around you, nuzzling your hair with a sigh. “I didn’t forget, pretty girl. I just… momentarily neglected aesthetics.” A pause. “Which I see was a grave crime.”
You hiccuped. “You never do round ones. Even when I was mad at you that one time, you still made them heart-shaped.”
He chuckled softly, the sound low and fond. “That’s because even when you’re mad at me, you still eat them with those pouty cheeks and kiss me after.”
You turned your face into his neck, voice muffled and pathetic. “But they’re not heart-shaped today, so now everything feels wrong. I was gonna take a picture for my little breakfast diary…”
“Ah.” He tilted his head, brushing his lips over your temple, then lower, along your cheek where a tear had slipped down. “My girl’s so delicate today. You’re like a little seashell that got smudged with morning sadness.”
You sniffled.
Then Rafayel shifted, standing up smoothly with you in his arms, still cradled like a sobbing princess.
“I’m redoing them.”
Your head shot up. “Really?”
“Mhm. You think I won’t shape twenty scones by hand for my favorite spoiled crybaby?” he teased, walking you to the counter like you weighed nothing, setting you down on the stool just beside the mixing bowls. “You’re the only person I even tolerate. If you want heart-shaped, you get heart-shaped.”
You tried to pout again, but his words melted you too quickly.
He was already back at the counter, sleeves pushed up, a tiny ponytail tied loosely with a ribbon you’d left lying around. He didn’t ask for help. Just hummed to himself as he redid the dough from scratch, tossing glances your way every few moments to make sure you were watching.
You sat with your chin in your hands, watching him move, elegant, annoyed at the flour in his rings, muttering about how the heart mold wasn’t symmetrical enough.
You sighed happily. “Raffy?”
“Yes, cutie?”
“…Can I eat the raw dough?”
He turned, expression deadpan. “Will it stop the tears?”
You nodded.
He handed you a pinch. “Then yes, absolutely. Take the whole bowl if you want. I’ll kiss you better if you get a stomach ache.”
Once the new batch came out, perfectly heart-shaped this time, Rafayel pulled you back into his lap, dusted icing sugar from your nose with a dramatic sigh, and whispered smugly against your cheek:
“My wife throws tantrums over pastries. I married a princess.”
You beamed, mouth full of warm scone.
And he kissed you anyway.
𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆
You were sitting sideways in Zayne’s lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, sniffing dramatically into the collar of his long coat. His hand rested calmly on your thigh, the other flipping through the patient report he had been trying to review before you burst into his home office in tears.
He hadn’t even flinched when you flung yourself into his lap like it was your natural place, because it was.
Now, you were sobbing softly into his shirt.
“I just wanted the kitty sticker on my water bottle,” you hiccuped. “The pink one. And now I can’t find it anywhere, and it’s just… everything’s ruined.”
Zayne blinked once. Slowly.
“…You’re crying,” he said, tone flat, “over a sticker.”
“It was a limited edition one,” you wailed louder, curling further into him like a miserable kitten. “The sparkly holographic one from the art market you said was overpriced but still bought for me anyway—”
“Yes,” he interrupted mildly, adjusting his glasses with one finger. “That sticker.”
A beat.
“Did you check the back of your phone case?”
You paused. Then went still.
“…Oh.”
You twisted slightly, reached back, peeled it off the case, and stared at it. Whole. Unharmed.
You glanced back at him sheepishly. “Oops…”
Zayne exhaled quietly through his nose, resting his forehead against yours like he was centering himself spiritually. “You’ve cried on four of my shirts this week,” he muttered.
“It was five,” you corrected meekly.
He looked at you, hazel-green eyes dry and unimpressed. “…Of course it was.”
You clung tighter to him. “I’m sorryyy. I just get so emotional sometimes and, and you’re warm and I needed to be held and I thought it was gone forever, and now I feel dumb and—”
“Enough.” His voice cut through your spiral with practiced ease. His thumb slid along your cheek, catching a fresh tear. “You’re not dumb. You’re dramatic. There’s a difference.”
You blinked up at him.
He continued with dry precision: “A dumb woman wouldn’t be able to weaponize her tears so efficiently. You cried, and I halted a coronary consult.”
You blinked again. “…Did you really?”
“I couldn’t hear over the sobbing,” he said, flat as ever. “And I wasn’t about to drag my wife out of my lap when her world was ending over foil cat stickers.”
You hid your face in his chest again, muffling a helpless giggle. “I’m sorry…”
“No, you’re not.”
“…No, I’m not.”
He hummed. “Didn’t think so.”
Then, quietly, Zayne placed the file on the table beside him and adjusted his grip on you, hand under your thighs, the other firm at your back.
His voice dropped, quieter, softer.
“Do you want me to find you more of those stickers?”
You nodded.
“I’ll message the seller.”
You peeked up at him. “Even if it’s overpriced again?”
He leaned down and pressed a slow kiss to your forehead.
“I’m a surgeon. I can afford your sticker addiction.”
You grinned through drying tears. “You love me.”
Zayne looked back down at you, mouth twitching at the corners. “Tragically.”
That evening, he returned home from work with three new sticker packs.
When you tried to cry again, this time because one was “too cute to ever use”, Zayne simply sat down, pulled you back into his lap, and muttered against your temple, “You’re banned from Etsy.”
You didn’t listen.
And he didn’t mind.
𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆
The penthouse was quiet when Xavier padded in, soft footfalls echoing on polished floors. His hair was tousled from sleep, even though it was nearly evening, and he was still dressed in his off-duty clothes: oversized white sweater, soft grey pants, and socks that didn’t match. One blue. One purple. He didn’t notice.
He found you where he always did.
Curled up on the sunken couch, surrounded by plush pillows and blankets he didn’t remember buying, tissues scattered like a fallen army.
You looked up with teary eyes, bottom lip wobbling.
He blinked. “Are you in pain?”
You wailed.
Xavier didn’t flinch. He simply crossed the living room, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and settled down with you in his lap, your permanent seat, apparently. He tucked the blanket around you both automatically.
His tone was calm. “Did something hurt you?”
You nodded into his chest.
He blinked again, blue eyes soft. “Who do I eliminate?”
You sniffled. “You.”
There was a pause. A long, quiet one.
“…Me?”
“You ate the last sakura mochi ice cream. Mine. The one I’d been saving for a bad day.” You looked up at him with wet lashes and righteous heartbreak. “And now I’m having a bad day and it’s not there.”
Xavier blinked slowly again, as if replaying the event in his mind. “I didn’t know it was yours.”
“It was in the back corner of the freezer behind the emergency dumplings!” you snapped. “You know that means it’s mine!”
“Oh,” he said flatly, as if you’d just told him water was wet. “I thought you were hiding it from ants.”
“There aren’t ants in the freezer, Xavier.”
He tilted his head. “Are you sure?”
You sobbed again. “I just wanted something sweet and cold after I did so many chores and folded your weird space socks and cleaned up after that dumb pigeon that keeps coming to our balcony and now there’s nothing left.”
You buried your face into his chest.
“Nothing but betrayal.”
Xavier wrapped his arms around you gently. “I didn’t mean to betray you.”
“You did.”
He nodded once, solemn. “Then I will bear the punishment.”
You sniffed again, looking up with suspicious eyes. “What’s the punishment?”
“Letting you cry on me for as long as you want.”
“…That’s not a punishment.”
“I know,” he said softly, tucking your head under his chin. “But you seem to like it.”
You sniffled, cheeks heating up.
A silence fell again, this one softer.
“Do you want me to go back to the market?” he asked suddenly, voice muffled against your hair.
You blinked. “It’s like a two-hour round trip—”
He was already standing, carrying you with him.
“I will go,” he said firmly. “You must stay. Crying wives should not be on trams.”
“…You’re just saying that because I fell asleep on one once and missed the stop.”
“You drooled on the pole,” he said, expression neutral. “The conductor filed a complaint.”
You clung tighter. “but take me with you.”
“No.”
“Xaaaaviiiieeer.”
“No,” he said again, voice soft but resolute. “You’ll fall asleep again and cry in public and then I’ll have to destroy someone for looking at you too long.”
You paused. “…Fair.”
He sat back down with you. “I will get the ice cream. You will stay here. I will return in ninety-seven minutes. You may cry until then.”
You blinked up at him, touched.
“You love me.”
He looked down at you like you hung the moon.
“I have risked my life multiple times,” he murmured, kissing your temple, “but I fear nothing as much as my pretty wife crying over desserts.”
When he returned, you were asleep in his sweater on the couch with a new box of tissues, the balcony pigeon perched smugly nearby.
Xavier placed the mochi ice cream in your lap, kissed your forehead, and whispered:
“Victory.”
𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩
The safehouse was too quiet.
Sylus knew it the moment he stepped out of his weaponary room and into the velvet-draped hallways. No spoiled chatter echoing through the corridors. No unnecessary purchases being flaunted in his direction. No soft steps scampering down the stairs with a “look what I ordered!”
Silence, in your world, was always suspicious.
He followed the soft sound of sniffling like a predator tracking prey, though the scent of vanilla, luxury skincare, and fresh credit card ink made it painfully obvious where you were.
His smug smirk sharpened the second he entered the lounge.
There you were. Curled on one of the silk chaises, the biggest one of course, wrapped in a fluffy blanket and surrounded by open boxes, designer bags, glittering heels, two jewelry cases, and a luxury drone still hovering in standby.
And you were sobbing. Sobbing over…
He narrowed his glowing eye slightly.
“…Lipstick?”
You turned, bottom lip trembling, eyes glassy and wet. “It’s not rose gold! It’s just shimmery salmon, they lied, Sy!”
He blinked. “And for this,” he murmured, voice lilting, “you’ve called for the end of the world?”
You wailed louder. “It doesn’t match my nails! Or the heels I picked for brunch tomorrow. You said you liked the brunch outfit, you lied to me too!”
He bit back a smirk. “I said I liked the outfit, my kitty. I never said your shoes matched the lipstick.”
You let out a dramatic gasp and flopped back like you’d faint.
He let you. Indulged in it.
He stepped closer, letting his coat slide off one shoulder as he dropped to sit on the edge of your fainting couch. You peeked at him through your fingers.
“I’m being so tragic today,” you whimpered.
Sylus’s gloved hand reached down, tucking your hair behind your ear, a slow curl to his lips.
“You’re being adorable.”
You blinked up. “Even when I cried at the drone for not having better taste?”
“You yell at drones. You sob over luxury packaging. You throw a tantrum when your brunch schedule is moved by ten minutes.” His voice lowered, smug and possessive. “You are the perfect little disaster. And all mine.”
You whined softly and reached for him.
He pulled you into his lap without hesitation, one arm hooking under your knees, the other curling behind your back. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his collarbone.
“You’re mean,” you mumbled. “You think I’m dumb.”
“I think you’re delightful,” he corrected. “Painfully high maintenance. Obnoxiously bratty. But delightful.”
You hiccuped. “Do you actually like it when I cry?”
Sylus chuckled, low and pleased, the sound curling against your ear like velvet.
“I like anything that makes you run to me. Crying, shopping, scheming, screaming, doesn’t matter.” He nuzzled your cheek, a slow drag of his nose down your tear-stained skin. “You always end up in my lap either way.”
You sniffled again.
“…Can I buy a different rose gold lipstick?”
Sylus smirked against your cheek. “Buy thirty.”
“Okay,” you said immediately, perking up. “I’ll get every brand.”
“Mm.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw. “And while you do that, I’ll call your stylist. You’ll need new shoes to match all thirty.”
You gasped. “You do love me!”
He laughed, quiet, but genuinely. “You’re the only creature who could make me sit through a crying fit over cosmetics and still want to kiss the tears off your cheeks.”
You beamed, messy and smug and still a little wet-faced, clinging to him tighter.
Sylus leaned back on the chaise with you sprawled across his chest, lazy and possessive as ever.
“I’m going to destroy that brand,” he added offhandedly.
You blinked up. “Wait, what?”
He tilted his head, red eyes gleaming faintly. “They lied to my princess.”
“…Sy.”
“You cried.”
“You don’t need to destroy them—”
“You cried.”
The lipstick brand posted a mysterious apology the next day.
You got a PR box with actual rose gold lipsticks inside. Thirty of them.
And Sylus?
He smirked, sipped his wine, and kept your shopping drone “accidentally” hacked so it only displayed items in your preferred colors.
All of them were now tagged as princess-coded.
Because that’s exactly what you were.
And he wouldn’t let the world forget it.
𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆
Caleb had faced lots of things.
He’d commanded entire fleets, rewritten gravity, walked through explosions with only one glove smudged.
But nothing, nothing, prepared him for this.
You were crying.
Again.
In the middle of your gilded, bedroom in Skyhaven, surrounded by seventeen fluffy, high-end imported petticoats, with tears in your big wet eyes and your lower lip sticking out like a weaponized pout.
“It’s not puffy enough!” you sobbed, holding up the offending dress like it had personally betrayed you. “I said I wanted maximum puff, Caleb! You promised!”
He blinked from where he stood in full Farspace uniform, his cap still tucked under one arm, black boots gleaming, gloves unbuttoned. He had just gotten home.
And now you were sniffling and stomping your foot, your dainty little slippers slapping against the mirrored floor.
“Pipsqueak,” he started softly, trying not to laugh. “Baby. You have twelve custom princess dresses. They literally fly when you twirl—”
“But they don’t float like clouds!” you wailed. “I want the kind that make a sound when I walk. Like fwah-fwah-fwah!” You stomped again for emphasis. “This one just rustles!”
He couldn’t help it—his lips twitched.
You caught it. “Are you laughing at me?!”
Caleb crossed the room in two strides, lifting you effortlessly into his arms before you could storm away again. You squeaked, clutching his neck, your pout deepening.
“No,” he murmured, kissing your nose. “Never. You know I’d bark if you told me to. Hell, I’d jump off Skyhaven if you said it made your dresses poofier.”
You hiccuped mid-sniffle.
“You mean it?'
Caleb sat down on the edge of your pink chaise, pulling you into his lap so your skirts pooled around both of you.
“I literally rewired the AI in this house cause you said they weren't treating you gently enough. You think I wouldn’t raze the entire fashion industry if it meant you’d stop crying over dress volume?”
You whined and buried your face in his shoulder.
He rocked you gently. “There we go. Let it out. Cry about the bad dress, baby.”
You sniffled again. “I had a whole tea party outfit planned. Now what will the other official's wives say?”
Caleb growled softly under his breath. “They’ll say whatever I tell them to say, or I’ll dump them into deep space.”
You giggled wetly. “You can’t just throw skyhaven's high society ladies out, Caleb.”
“I can do anything,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Especially for you.”
“…Even puffier dresses?”
“I’ll fund a new brand that only makes them.”
You blinked up at him, tears drying fast. “You’d do that for me?”
He nodded solemnly. “I’ll call it... Princess Puff. Only you can buy from them.”
You squealed and kissed him messily on the cheek, smearing your lip gloss. “You’re my favorite boy.”
Caleb, hopeless, clutched you tighter and leaned back on the chaise, letting your frilly skirts bury him like a hero in a fairy tale.
“You’ve always been my favorite girl,” he murmured. “Even when you were a little crybaby who used to throw tantrums over sticker books.”
“I was a sensitive artist,” you huffed.
“You were a brat,” he teased, grinning. “My brat.”
You buried your face in his chest again, the fit of your next meltdown already forgotten.
And Caleb? He didn’t care if Fleet Command pinged his tablet. If the Bureau directors demanded his return.
Right now, his only mission was holding his precious pipsqueak close, wrapped in layers of unpuffy skirts and dramatic demands, and planning a fleet raid on every designer who had ever disappointed her.
Because your tears were sacred.
And Caleb, Farspace Colonel or not, was always going to roll over and play knight for his princess.
Which game character felt like a genuine childhood friend?
Feed your dashboard by answering my question, blogger.
I feel such a childhood history bond feeling with Caleb more than any love interst who had the childhood friends tropes in other otomes I've played over the years. I love this man so much.
Can you write something similar to your last sylus work (mc carefully spending her money) with rafayel? 😅
𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel x gn!reader ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ hurt/comfort! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚we all deserve a raffy in our lives ૮๑ˊ ꒳ ˋ๑ა if only things were that simple and easily achievable, ughhhh!
your mother used to tell you not to indulge, but to save up.
“you never know,” she repeated, and you believed her.
you never know when an emergency could happen, or if you'd ever find yourself needing a scandalous amount to solve a problem, hence why you followed her advice.
but when would it be enough?
when would you stop saving up and start enjoying what you've earned?
when would you stop worrying about money, about your income, about your salary?
when would you hand out your credit card carelessly on a shopping spree, smiling at the cashier like a kid in a candy store?
maybe that life wasn't meant for you —and that was fine. you constantly told yourself it was fine, your mother was wise, and you did well by being cautious.
though you wondered why it felt so bad when it was supposed to be a good thing, you buried that feeling away. you couldn't afford to be greedy, let alone start wishing for things you knew you'd never have.
or well, that was until a certain someone stole your heart.~
unluckily for your mom and your rigid mentality, rafayel had other plans for you.
he'd come to visit with bags of expensive things, most of which he claimed he bought “by accident.”
but, come on, he bought the finest groceries, the freshest fruit and veggies, and even some delicacies you've never heard about… by accident?
he misclicked or accidentally swiped his credit card?
yeah, right.
then, you'd find beautiful clothes in your closet, ones you clearly didn't buy yourself since they still had the price tags on and they were ridiculously expensive.
you tried to make it stop, but he had the nerve to shrug it off and act like he didn't understand what you were saying.
“maybe you have a fashion fairy, cutie,” he'd simply answer, kissing your cheek. “or maybe you're manifesting so hard that your wishes are coming true.”
he was that goddamn fairy, but it was impossible to stop him and his stubborn need to spoil you.
the last straw came when you mentioned needing something for a hobby of yours.
it was something minuscule, really, something that you knew would improve the experience, but would most likely remain a childish dream of yours, like many other things you've wished for since you were very young.
and that very same night, you found lots of different tools and supplies in your living room, with amazing quality and, well, a price you didn't want to know.
you couldn't accept it.
your mind couldn't comprehend having expensive things, even when you weren't the one who spent money on them.
you called rafayel, telling him to come see you as soon as he could, and he arrived with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with what he'd done.
this was the easiest way to spoil you without you rejecting it; by doing it behind your back.
shady, he was aware, but… he had to do it somehow.
“rafayel,” you sighed, looking around before meeting his gaze. “i can't accept this, i'm sorry...”
he tilted his head, sitting on your couch.
“why not, my pearl?”
“because… because i don't need these.”
“that's not what you said,” he tilted his head to the other side now, smiling. “you said you needed them.”
“i said it would be nice, not that i needed them…”
“same thing. needs or wants… you can have both,” he shrugged, patting his lap for you to sit down.
you didn't.
“rafayel, i don't need expensive things… i'm used to living like this, with things i can afford. don't spend money on me, please.”
he stared at you before standing up. he stepped closer and closer, making you step back.
“you're used to living like this, but do you enjoy it?” his smile faded, no more playfulness behind those pretty eyes. “i want to spoil you.”
“but—”
he cupped your cheeks, leaning in.
“don't. you've been denying yourself a lot of things, but i won't let you forbid me from enjoying myself either,” he spoke firmly, making your breath hitch.
you didn't even realize that.
you were denying him the things he enjoyed, just like you've been doing with your own interests.
“and i enjoy giving you the things that you want, the things that make your eyes sparkle, the things you see and could only dream of having one day,” he whispered. “but, my pearl, i'm afraid that day will never come if you keep waiting.”
you remained quiet, not knowing what to say.
“i'm not telling you to go nuts and spend half a million in one day, but… you deserve to have nice things. you've worked hard for them your entire life. you're kind, you worry about others, you're good… why must you punish yourself like this?”
without you noticing, tears started to roll down your cheeks.
punishing…?
was that why saving all the time felt so draining?
he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, pulling you in for a hug.
“those little trinkets you see, that midnight snack you crave, those useless sheets of cute stickers, or even that expensive bag you really, really want… let me take care of those,” he offered, his voice now soft against your ear, melodic like a siren's call.
you were still hesitant.
you couldn't let rafayel take care of everything, not without feeling extremely guilty.
your mother would be against this so, so badly…
but, as if sensing your distress, he backed away and caressed your wet cheek.
“i'll let you take care of your responsible expenses if i must, but the indulgent ones?” he grinned, leaning in and pressing a kiss on your lips. “they're mine to spoil you with.”
“rafayel…”
“don't worry,” he reassured, kissing you again. “if you still feel bad… you can spoil me in your own way.”
“...and how would i do that?” you frowned, studying his mischievous expression.
he smirked, pressing his forehead against yours.
“a kiss of yours is worth millions in my world. i'm high maintenance, though. you'll need a minimum of twenty a day to keep me satisfied.”
“raffy…” you groaned, rolling your eyes.
“twenty-one, now that you're being a brat.”
“rafayel!”
“twenty-two.~”
you giggled and hugged him tight, his arms immediately wrapping around your body.
“let me spoil you, please…”
you took a shaky breath and looked up at him.
“don't go overboard, please… it overwhelms me a little.”
he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose.
“define overboard,” he grinned, pointing at all of the gift bags around you. “because this is just a tiny little gesture, my pearl.”
“rafayel!”
“okay, fine! fine… whatever makes you happy,” he sat back down and sprawled out on your sofa, grinning. “now, about those twenty-two kisses…” he tapped his lips, moving his eyebrows suggestively.
you shook your head, exasperated. but, deep down, this was one of the things you enjoyed doing, and… indulging couldn't be as bad as you've been told all your life, right?~
Premise: You and Rafayel are very much in love. Inspired by this post
Word Count: ~200
Tags: Rafayel x reader, fluff, kissing, tooth-rotting fluff, sfw
"Good morning, cutie," Rafayel's warm voice softly carried you to the waking world. You blinked your eyes open and were greeted with a chaste kiss to the cheek.
"Do you know what today is?" He asked, giving you a kiss on your other cheek. You weren't awake enough yet to notice Raf's mischievous smirk.
"Mmph, Saturday?" Your voice was still thick with sleep. Raf laid on his side watching you stretch with a lazy smile.
"It's kiss a cutie day!" He announced before covering your face and neck with smooches. You laughed, but when you tried to kiss him back, Raf dodged and pinned you to the bed. He held your wrists above your head and looked down at you, victorious. "Uh-uh, only the biggest cutie gets kisses today."
Raf continued to kiss your neck and then started to kiss up your arms. But in that position, you saw your opening and blew air at Raf's exposed chest hovering above you. He jerked back in response and you took the opportunity to flip him onto his back, now straddling him. You kissed both of his cheeks before jumping out of bed. He gave you his most offended look.
"Last one to the kitchen is a dried up fishie!" You giggled before racing out of the bedroom.
"No fair! And on kiss a cutie day?!" Raf shouted after you, though he couldn't stop smiling.
Author's note: I am so down bad for this man. I need more Rafayel fluff.
