the virtuoso

. ✦ ݁ ˖ ZAI, nineteen, love and deepspace sideblog for drabbles, fics, headcanons, and whatever thoughts i have <3, any pronouns, desi, sylus main but i adore all of them, sfw + nsfw, minors dni.

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ebb day vs moonhowl party, background rafayel/mc | crossposted to ao3

What a massive pillow.

don't even joke with me lad. fuck infold

She leaves the room with a twirl and a promise to return with a plentiful amount of seafood. In the meantime, Rafayel is forsaken.

Stuck with a stranger. With a tail, no less. If he's not careful, he's going to attempt to start feeling at the thing. Little inhibition remains right now.

"Are you dying?" the stranger asks.

"No."

And a lot of questions.

Valko, she'd introduced him as. Well, not exactly a stranger then.

He'd read the name, spotted it between an obituary and a saga of EVER technical reports. How the hell she managed to wrangle the chairman of Eoncore Tech is utterly beyond him. Dragged him through his front door, while he was moaning in pain on his couch, and trekked all sorts of muck onto the floor.

Though, this is the woman who begged him to get her into the N109-Zone. Not everyone can face Onichynus and live to tell the tale. How dreadfully fearless his bride is.

He trusts her, whatever madness she might have planned.

"You can bond over your cycles!" She'd thrown over her shoulder as a last remark. A poor choice of words.

"Can you die?" Valko asks. He's cross-armed and staring in assessment.

"Who cares?" Rafayel answers. That furrows the brute's brows.

But it's less child-like wonder in Valko's curiosity, and more… calculation. As if he's being picked apart for study.

There's about seventy red flags here, but the only thing that can truly garner his attention is how jelly-like his legs feel.

That and how widely imposing this guy is. Who even needs that much muscle? It's insane.

"Would it kill you to have a little courtesy?" Rafayel hisses, nursing an aching rib.

Valko quirks his head. There's a little twitch in his ears. If his head wasn't tingling, Rafayel might have been enamoured. "Do your gills hurt?"

Heart dropping to his ass, Rafayel splutters, "My what."

There's an amber gleam in Valko's eyes, a widened shine in the way curiosity shifts his pupils. Hell, if the guy's tail wasn't set on a rhythmic sway, Rafayel might think he'd pounce on him here and now.

"Gills," He pauses like he's rolling it around in his mouth. "you're a Lemurian, right?"

Once you toss the words out, it's impossible to talk them back in. Far too late, comes Valko's realisation. Rafayel's lips are pressed tight, a fist balled against the couch.

"How the fuck could you possibly—" His chest constricts. That godforsaken company.

"My grandma used to tell stories!" It's a stumbling attempt at a save. "Once the full moon hangs heavy in the sky, the heralds of the sea find their power wavering," He shifts on his feet. "…also you have scales. On your face."

There's a shadow that crosses Valko's face, for a split second—like a veil of secrets.

Before Rafayel begins to heave himself to a defense, he's stopped. He likes to think of himself as a decent judge of character. Here, he senses less sinister investigation and more of a… social flounder.

Palm relaxing from its clench, he finds himself less guarded. A little less shrewd, as his bride might care to add.

"Yeah," he says. "my skin is marred, a horrible stain of turquoise—"

"They're beautiful," It slips out Valko before he's cognizant about his words.

Rafayel's mouth shuts immediately.

The moon is a majestic constant. A truly divine light up above. The damning thing is how it slurs Valko's thoughts. Too often has he found himself flushed and cotton-mouthed, instinct working his tongue rather than the mind's eye.

Which is why he's now facing something akin to a glare at how obtuse he is.

Valko's palm comes to grasp at his nape. "Ah," Sorry. Goddamn moon. Fries the brain." His right ear ticks inwards.

Rafayel's lip twitches at that. He lets his head lull a little, to mask the tiny chuckle that leaves him. But as he lifts to return his gaze, he finds that naturally hangdog look right at his nose.

"They are pretty, though." His gaze is piercing, and his breath is mere inches away.

He's like a puppy—Rafayel can't help but think—with frazzled quips and twitchy reponses. And now it's right in his face. The heat rushing to his cheeks is frightening. Not often is he faced with anything but repulsion at his features.

A claw pokes at one of them. Then another. And then a start at cupping his face. Half the nerves inside scream to back up. The other half is almost melting. Damningly, he leans into the touch. Eyes of gold warp in wonder at the azure dusting on his skin.

At once, he withdraws—like he's just returned to himself—the pullback of his claws a cold retraction. "Sorry—"

Rafayel's frailty against the moonlight only accelerates the chill. The shaking tether of celestial weakness shoots shivers in his veins—wrenching his eyes shut. But his hand flies out to grab Valko's wrist.

"You're fine," he all but hisses. "Sit down."

"What?"

"Sit. Down."

Valko sits. He feels the thud of Rafayel's skull knock against his shoulder, then a sag. Followed by the tiniest, contented sigh.

"You're my pillow now." he says. "Move, and I drown you with the changing tides." Rafayel shuts his eyes. Valko's as stiff as a board. Stately in all else he deals with but here, he is in fact a pillow.

"…Okay then."

His tail swoops over to nestle in Rafayel's lap, a small flush rising to his face. Every inch of his body is working to keep that thing still.

The Lemurian's hand finds the plush of it, carding his fingers through at a steady pace. Valko's rigour thaws into something of more affinity. He lets his head drop against the crown of Rafayel's.

Linkon City is bright tonight. Stars kiss their shine into the water's reflection as dew that teems on every leaf in sight matches its gleam.

Under the stretching hours of the full moon, the herald of the sea's power and the beast of the forest find solace in each other. Here, the sky feels less like an assault on their minds and more of a nightlight.

suggestive, making out, mc vaguely mentioned | crossposted to ao3

Caleb could break this man and he would dissolve with a grin on his face. This fiend would take the force of gravity in stride, and let matter collapse in on itself.

happy pride month! it's june here anyways. im going to be keeping a drabble/oneshot collection for li x li fics + i'm open to any suggestions and requests :ppp

“You spoiled her rotten before I even got the chance.” Sylus’ mouth plants itself onto his with nothing short of contending passion.

Caleb holds the zeal of something far larger than himself. But not the heart. Sylus sees right through him. Caleb Xia’s heart is shrewd, a twisted little thing. Sylus sees what calls this broken machine to action. 

What sputters the little bleeds that pour out of that aching organ. His first love and the commander of his final death. A tragedy indeed.

Caleb gasps, “Just doing my duty.” He welcomes the onslaught. Embraces the flame of competition—soul and root battling for what they claim is theirs. It’s a rightful change of pace, Caleb thinks. No gutting worry in the back of his head to be careful—no pit in his stomach.

He could break this man and he would dissolve with a grin on his face. This fiend would take the force of gravity in stride, and let matter collapse in on itself.

“Is there a drill sergeant in there?” Sylus chuckles the question in his break for air, but the flick of a finger against his forehead holds another weight. “Your mind’s running a regiment.” The scrunch of Caleb’s nose pokes at the mirth in Sylus’ voice.

“And yours is invasive.” Caleb barely manages to get the words out before he decides the oxygen isn’t worth it and latches his teeth to Sylus’ bottom lip.

There’s no balance here, not a twirl of serenity or a dance on the line of equilibrium. Here they are lopsided and jagged, biting hard and kissing harder. Fang clicks against fang, shackled chains are pulled taut and desire is caught in a violent flurry.

Here, fate cannot touch Sylus’ heart.