5 oddly specific things that Xavier gets jealous of
xavier ♡ gn!reader
warnings: established relationship, nonsexual physical intimacy
notes: PATHETIC BOYFAILURE I LVOE YOU XAVIER
1. When you're huddled under your blanket, covers up to your chin.
With your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth hanging slightly agape, your limbs splayed all about the mattress—Xavier thinks you to be the most wondrous creature in the world.
He stares, soft-blue eyes drinking in your existence like some dehydrated man—perhaps he's not too far removed from such a title, though, because then, his gaze trickles towards the blanket, its fabric your favorite color.
It drowns your figure completely, reaching the bottom of your chin as you snooze contentedly, fingers curled around the edges of the fabric.
Xavier damn near clenches his fists.
Approaching your bed, he finds familiarity in the action—all his favorite things in the world, right here: you, the prospect of a nice nap, you again... did he mention you, already?—and, as a seasoned veteran, he crawls onto your mattress like some soggy thing, lips curled into the slightest of pouts.
He eyes your blanket again. It looks back at him, audaciously, rubbing salt in his ever-growing wound because you look so wonderfully cozy and content while he is not. He is the furthest thing from content, actually.
And so, Xavier being Xavier, he slowly peels the blanket off of his figure, gaze meeting yours when you slowly blink awake, groggy.
"Xavier?" you call, with that wondrous voice of yours. He lowers his head slightly, nose digging into your neck, smiling against the skin as he feels you lean towards his touch.
"Sorry," he whispers. "I just wanted to nap with you."
He fails to mention how your blanket, ever so coincidentally, falls off (reads: is banished) from your bed. Dazed, you pat around the cushion, trying to feel where it went. He replaces its absence with his own body, splaying over you, limbs tangling with yours.
"Xavier?" you call again. "Xavier? Where's my blanket?"
With his head buried into the side of your neck, you can feel the outline of a frown against the dip of your shoulder, voice muffled as he replies, "Right here."
2. The Galaxy Kid plushie that he won for you at the claw machine. Most devastatingly, when you sit it up against the couch, and it faces the movie screen.
"Wait!" you exclaim, sitting up. "I forgot something!"
Xavier likes watching movies with you. Well, it's not really like he watches them, anyway—he stares at your departing form as you rush towards your room, scrambling haphazardly for something—it's more like you're watching the movie, and he watches you watch the movie.
Either way, Xavier likes watching you watch a movie, so everything works out in the end.
That is, until you emerge from your room with some wretched thing.
"He can watch with us!" you say, holding up the alien plushie he had won for you at Twinkle Toys. Before Xavier can utter his thoughts (that being: No, he cannot), you sit Galaxy Kid down by your side, arm brushing against his as you gently pat its glassy head.
Xavier stares at Galaxy Kid as if it were the most disgusting thing in the world. When you turn to look at him, however, his expression switches completely—he glances up at you from through his lashes, lips curled downwards, head tilting to the side as he blinks once, twice, thrice, before saying, "Does he have to?"
You laugh. "Xavier, are you jealous of a plushie?"
He just turns away.
"You won this for me!" you say, holding up Galaxy Kid towards him, your hands cradling its bulbous glass helmet. He frowns. Is one alien not enough?
(Xavier mentally prepares himself to fight the whole universe if it means he can be your only alien.)
"I did..." he mutters, staring at the ground, bottom lip jutted out, before his gaze returns to you.
You set Galaxy Kid down, your hands reaching up to pinch at his cheeks. Xavier assumes victory over the pathetic thing.
Galaxy Kid, now sideways on the couch, says nothing in response. That's right, Xavier thinks, giving it a side-eye, know your place.
3. Some random kid that you started pushing on the swings.
Xavier thinks you to be the most wondrous creature in the world.
Much to his chagrin, it seems that other people share the same sentiment.
"Yay!" some kid exclaims, screaming joyously as you push it on the swings, its grubby little legs flailing frantically. "Higher! Higher!"
Not only is it greedy (for hogging all of your attention), it is also audacious (for making demands—and also, hogging all of your attention).
Xavier, arms crossed, just watches you have a splendid time with this random kid. Where are its parents? How very negligent. As a victim of negligence himself, Xavier can't help but resonate with the kid.
Or maybe not. This kid isn't being neglected at all! It has you pushing it so joyously on the swings! What a cruel world this is.
Having enough of this fate, Xavier sits down on the swing right next to the kid, legs pushing off the ground just enough for the set to let out a pitiful creaaak... while not providing enough momentum for him to actually go anywhere.
Creaaak... He looks over his shoulder, both of his hands clasped around each of the swing's chains, bottom lip jutted out as he blinks at you, eyes wide and pitiful.
You stare at him, the excited screams of the kid starkly contrasting the pathetic expression which sweeps over his face like a stroke of light.
"Xavier?"
He stares at you expectantly.
"Xavier, what's wrong?"
"Can you push me?"
"Do you really need my help?
Immediately, he responds, "Yes."
Creaaak...
You sigh. While being pushed by you, Xavier makes the effort to glare at the kid at the height of momentum, eyes narrowed slightly.
"Haha!" the kid exclaims, blowing a raspberry at him. "I'm going higher than you!"
A flash of light erupts from out of nowhere, and all of a sudden, Xavier's height reaches the pinnacle—a record for this particular swingset.
"What...?!" the kid yells. "How's that possible?"
Xavier doesn't say anything. When you miss the last push, however, he does.
"Please push me," he repeats, staring at you from over his shoulder.
"Are you really fighting with a kid?"
No comment.
4. When you talk to your plants—especially when you tell them about your day.
After you learned that talking to plants could help stimulate their growth, Xavier's entire world fell apart.
("I want them to grow up!" you exclaimed, face enraptured with a smile, irrevocable. "Big and strong!"
("Grow?" he had echoed, staring at your plants from the corner of his eyes. Those greedy things. First, they made you water them; next, they took space in your apartment; then, they spread lies and misinformation, convincing you to talk to them?
(Just how many more demands must those weeds make?)
"And so, Tara was like so mad, because all of the tickets for the concert she had been waiting for were out just like that, and—"
A shift in the shadows; a rustle of the leaves; you turn your head, and, amidst all the vases of your flowers and plants, stands Xavier. He makes no effort to swat a leaf out of his face, and he stares at you from behind a sea of green.
"Xavier? What're you doing here?"
From behind the leaf, his eyes meet yours, blinking. "Can I not be here?"
"I mean, what're you doing with my plants?"
"Listening to your day."
"I already told you about my day, though."
"I am listening again."
"Why?"
"... I also need to grow. Big and strong."
"Xavier, you're a grown man."
"I might wilt."
"You? Wilt?"
He shrinks into the plants, head hanging low, only looking up to spare you that pathetic glance of his as he pouts.
"I'm wilting," he says, quiet. "Please tell me about your day."
A couple days later, Philo receives a visitor.
"Welcome! Oh, it's just you," Jeremiah says.
Xavier ignores that last part. He approaches the counter, with Jeremiah's sitting figure behind it, the florist's hands occupied with a newspaper.
"Does talking to plants help stimulate growth?" Xavier asks, fingers curling around the edge of the table.
Jeremiah doesn't look up. "Yeah."
Xavier frowns.
"So, the plants weren't spreading lies and misinformation at all..."
"How could plants spread lies and misinformation?" Jeremiah asks, still not looking up from the paper.
Xavier ignores him. He turns around and leaves the shop without a single word, the only thing left of his arrival being the bell which rings overhead, the doorway closing and leaving Philo empty.
5. Your phone.
Yes. Xavier gets jealous of your phone.
You're always holding it, and you're always looking at it, and you're always searching for it, and—Xavier slumps against your back, arms wrapped around your waist, hunched as he presses his face into your back—you're always with it.
"Xavier?" you say, one hand parting from your phone to trace over his hand. "Are you okay?"
"No," he replies, voice muffled by your clothes, arms squeezing you slightly.
"What happened?"
Before he can reply, a cough escapes your lips, and Xavier jolts up, his face parting from your back, hands raised to hold onto your shoulders as he leans forward, catching a glimpse of your side profile.
"It's because of that phone," he deducts. "You're gravely ill."
"What?"
"Come on," he says, tugging you towards your room. "Let's nap."
"How do any of those things correla—"
He picks you up, hands hooked under the back of your knees, while the other supports your back, before teleporting towards the room (ignoring how the two of you were only a couple steps away).
Delicately, he lays you down on the mattress, and he lifts the blanket to tuck both you and him underneath, his arm over your waist as he stares at you meticulously, again and again.
The blue light of your phone radiates onto your face. Xavier frowns, brows furrowing. His light is much warmer. He leans towards your face, nose nearly touching yours, his head shoving your phone out of the way.
"I think I'm sick," he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut once you dig your fingers into his scalp, threading through his pearly hair. The phone, now discarded somewhere onto the bed, is flung away by Xavier's stray hand, the contact entirely coincidental.
"Is that so?" you remark. "What a shame. I was going to kiss you just now."
His eyes jolt awake, wide.
"I'm not sick anymore."
You laugh. "What perfect timing!"
Xavier leans forward, lips capturing yours. He smiles into the kiss.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ idol!boyfriend!Rafayel who makes you cum on his tongue as a pre-performance ritual.
Leaving thomas to a panic, Rafayel already had you pinned on the wall of his dressing room, the door was locked with a soft click, very discretely.
"Rafa..but your performance..mh..!" The words were taken out of your kiss bitten lips as he bit the skin where he teased away the strap of your dress. "You know the rules cutie..I have to claim my good luck charm, don't you.." rafayel kissed your décollate first "want.." then your belly "your dear boyfriend.." boldly grabbing the hem of your panties between his teeth as he rested his knees on the ground, as if he would eat them up—eyes woven with excruciating desire, sliding them down in a go. "...to perform well..?"
His sultry eyes looking up to you like that was enough to make your knees weak, you simply nodded your head, tangling your fingers in his dark purple locks, his tongue first pressing flat against your fold, lapping up your juices, slurping at it loud as if it was his last meal alive. Your moans were loud and raspy at the pleasure he was so resourcefully proving you. Your knees bucked at the intensity of his tongue dancing around your clit that you were pushing him away.
"Mh..fuck..too much!" You whimpered, but his grip on your thighs was iron clad, he roared a hum into your cunt, the vibrations of it were starting to make your abdomen clench, the added wetness from your cloying walls only encouraged your boyfriend further. "T-thomas can hear us.." you whispered although your eyes were rolling back to your sockets, you cried out loud when Rafayel scraped his teeth against your poor overstimulated clit. "Silly girl..focus on me, not Thomas.." He groaned, his mouth and chin already dripping with your nectar. "Don't interrupt me again.." He warned, albeit playfully but you knew he was capable enough to leave you desperate for him so you complied.
His tongue toyed with your puckering hole, adding cobwebs of his spit and then lapping it again, until your the the cacophony of your squelching cunny and moans grew louder and louder, eventually making you black out as you came. "Fuck yes cutie..such a good fucking girl.." He moaned at your released, mesmerized.
When you slowly came to your senses, Rafayel still had his tongue burried in you, cleaning up whatever remained, his Adam's apple, chest and abs christened with your cum; giving your swollen clit one final kiss Rafayel stood up, crashing his lips against yours all teeth and tongue, the warmth of his body making you feel slack.
"I have yet to be much worse with you..just wait for me.."
❥ rafayel pops a boner every time he paints you. just picturing you in his head and tracing your shape on the canvas gets the blood rushing straight to his cock.
(a/n: sooooo my bff @kedsandtubesocks told me about this silly dating sim game a few weeks ago, and now we both have brain worms lol. this is just a short cutsey fluff piece i mainly wrote for her since we have similar tastes in fictional men, but she encouraged me to post it, so here ya go. hope y'all enjoy!)
summary: you don't know how to swim. as a lemurian, rafayel takes this as a personal attack and insists on teaching you.
pairing: rafayel qi x reader!mc
tags: pre-relationship fluff, slight spoilers for some of raf's myths, liberal (possibly innaccurate) descriptions of lemurian magic and anatomy. also might not be canon compliant since i think mc knows how to swim, but wtv.
wordcount: 7k
disclaimer: i am new to this fandom and also haven't finished the main storyline of the game so don't come at me for any discrepancies plz. 🙏🏼
“Cutieeeeeeee.” The voice was pitched high and whiny, vowels elongated until they lost all shape and meaning.
You blinked, turning away from the booths and stalls scattered around the plaza in front of you, and glanced at the man to your left. The mid-afternoon sun glinted off his short lavender hair, turning the strands into tendrils of violet flames. His eyes were equally luminous, a palette of constantly shifting blues and pinks and purples, and his profile was poetically perfect.
Usually. But right now, those fine, elegant features were twisted into the most petulant pout you had ever seen.
“Raf, what’s wrong?” you chuckled in bewilderment.
He’d been all smiles just a few minutes ago, when he dragged you to a food booth selling donut holes on skewers. He had bought half a dozen flavors and insisted on trying them before you, to “make sure they’re worthy of passing your sweet lips, cutie.” You’d blushed, swatting his arm, but allowed him to be your taste tester, and he dutifully handed you each skewer once they passed his very thorough inspection.
You’d thrown the last stick away less than five minutes ago, sat down on this stone bench less than two minutes ago, and now he was slouching there with his arms crossed, his lower lip jutting out dramatically.
“I’m bored,” Rafayel huffed as he tipped his head, exhaling sharply to blow a strand of purple hair out of his face.
“I’m sorry, who was the one who wanted to sit down?” you laughed. “I told you not to wear those shoes.”
You glanced pointedly down at his shiny, brown leather shoes. They were, admittedly, very handsome. And ludicrously expensive, of course. The high-quality leather was imported from another distant country, and the intricate patterns carved into the sides and across the top were done by hand, by some master shoemaker in a very remote village, who only made like five pairs a year, so they were insanely sought after.
Rafayel had of course bestowed upon you this very important information when he came strutting into your apartment this morning, like a peacock. He’d done a whole fashion walk across your living room before whirling around and asking for your thoughts (and applause.)
You honestly told him they looked very nice, before reminding him that the two of you were planning to do a lot of walking this afternoon, and maybe it wasn’t the best time to test out a new pair of shoes.
He’d waved off your concerns with a flourish, but the pair of you had barely made it into the park before he’d thrown himself down on a bench.
“It’s not the shoes,” Rafayel still insisted, stretching his long legs out so he could admire them in the dappled sunlight coming through the canopy of leaves above. “Master Eldrin’s work is perfect, without flaw. Each curve rides the line between sensual and practical, and every stitch is strong, confident, unshakeable. The leather is so soft and supple, it feels like-- like warm buttered glued to my skin.”
“Gross. What kind of metaphor is that?” You wrinkled your nose but couldn’t help but smile at his— mostly— poetic wording. He was always such an artist.
“See? That’s what I mean!” he groaned, slumping further on the bench. “I’m so bored that all my creatively is oozing out of my ears, along with my brain.”
“Hmmm.” Tilting your head, you pretended to inspect the side of his face and neck, even reaching up to flip his hair out of the way. “I don’t see any brain matter…”
“Cutieeee, don’t tease me,” he whined and grabbed your hand between his agile fingers. “I’m seriously suffering here!”
He batted those multicolored eyes at you, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.
“Alright, alright,” you chuckled, intertwining his hand with yours. “I don’t want my poor fishie to suffer anymore, so let’s go.”
You stood up from the bench, expecting him to follow, but he remained seated and frowning as he tugged you back toward him.
“Go where?” he asked.
“Uh…” You raised an eyebrow, glancing over your shoulder at the plaza full of booths. “To the art festival?”
“Noooooooo,” Rafayel groaned like he’d been mortally wounded and clung to your hand like it was the only thing keeping him on this mortal plane. “That sounds awful.”
You stared down at him incredulously. “What are you even talking about? You brought us here. You’ve been yapping about this festival for weeks!”
“Yeah, but that was before I saw how boring it is,” he said as he glared past you at the multiple vendors and customers winding their way through the stalls.
“Raf, we haven’t even reached the artists yet,” you tried to reason with him. “You got distracted by the food stalls.”
“They’re the only good things here,” he scoffed. “Actually, we should get some more donuts before we leave. The strawberry ones.”
“We can’t leave, we just got here,” you protested with a frown.
“I’m just trying to save you the disappointment, cutie.” Rafayel suddenly jumped to his feet, and he tucked you against his side like he was trying to shield you from danger. “Don’t look. Those flat, ugly colors and uninspired works will make your eyes bleed. Mine are stinging even at this distance. I don’t know how those people call themselves artists.”
A couple walking past at just that moment turned to give Rafayel reproachful glares, and you winced and mouthed an apology before elbowing your companion in the side.
“Ow!” he yelped and stared down at you with wide eyes. “What was that for?”
“For being rude,” you huffed, and before he could argue, you changed the subject. “Look, we don’t have to stay for long, but I don’t want to leave yet. I got all dressed up, and I rarely have time off, so I just want to have a fun, relaxing afternoon.”
“We can have fun on our own,” he insisted.
You arched an eyebrow. “Doing what?”
Rafayel blinked, and you could tell he hadn’t thought this far ahead, but he doubled down anyway.
“Whatever we want.” His smile was sly as he wrapped an arm around your waist, trying to reel you in, but you batted him away.
“I want to go to the art festival,” you insisted. “So, unless you have an actual, better idea than that—”
“We can do a picnic!” he blurted out.
You paused, considering him. “A picnic?”
“The most lavish picnic you’ve ever had, Miss Bodyguard,” he added with that cajoling smirk you hated and loved in equal measure. “I can have anything your heart desires delivered right to us. We’ll have a whole feast, spread out on my private beach, and then we can just spend the rest of the day relaxing and having fun, as you wished.”
It did sound very tempting. You knew Rafayel would spare no expense, and the beach behind his studio was pretty, but…
“Hmm, as nice as that sounds…” you said as you half turned back to the art festival.
The artist made a choked, offended noise. “You can’t tell me a boring festival sounds better than that!”
“Doesn’t sitting on a beach, alone, sound more boring?” you laughed.
“Of course not!” he immediately shot back. “First, I wouldn’t be alone, I would have you, and your company is vastly superior to… theirs.”
He flicked a dismissive hand toward the crowd near the booths, but when your head started to follow, he caught your chin and guided your eyes back to his. He was also much closer all of the sudden, his crisp scent, edged in salt, invading your senses.
“And there are many things we can do besides sitting,” he continued in a low voice that made something in your belly flutter, and his eyes dropped to your mouth before flicking back up. “For example, we can lay down and work on our tans. Though, you may have to… shed a few layers of that admittedly very cute outfit. Just so you don’t get any weird tan lines, of course.”
Your face felt hot now, and it had nothing to do with the summer sun. You tried to come up with a response, but your thoughts were slow, sluggish, derailing completely when Rafayel looked at your mouth again.
A tiny smirked tugged at his own, and then he was abruptly stepping back and dropping his hand from your face. You swayed there, suddenly cold and off balance, but he just tucked his arms behind his back and rocked back on his heels, still wearing that damned smirk.
“We can also go swimming.” His tone was normal again, casual, almost innocent, but you knew better. Your eyes narrowed, but he continued talking like he couldn’t feel your glare. “There’s a reef not too far off shore. We can swim down to it, hunt for sunken treasure, see all the cute fishies. If you’re lucky, I might even show you my true, amazing, awe-inspiring form.”
You had to admit, that last part was tempting. He’d mentioned his other form before, and you were insanely curious. Depictions and descriptions of Lemurians were varied and highly contested. Rafayel said they were all wrong, too, but you could never tell if he was joking or not.
You’d asked, once, to see it, suggesting he use his large bathtub that could probably fit half a dozen people. But he’d just smirked and said he wouldn’t fit, and you’d quickly changed the subject to hide your intense blush.
So, needless to say, you did want to see his true form, but…
“C’mon, Miss Bodyguard,” his voice interrupted your thoughts. “What do you say?”
He stood there looking so very smug, so you felt a little pleasure in cutting him down to size.
“Mm, pass,” you said flatly, stepping around him and walking toward the festival booths.
Rafayel squawked behind you like a seagull, and you heard his long, leaping strides as he ran to catch up to you.
“Cutieeeeeee,” he whined again, but when you just kept walking, he huffed and darted into your path.
You tried to step around him a second time, but his long fingers caught your shoulders, forcing you to stop.
“Just give me one good reason,” he said. “Give me one good reason why this festival is better than my incredible, genius idea, and I’ll happily admit my defeat and escort you to every booth you want.”
You highly doubted that, but you decided to play his game.
“Fine.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I want to go to the festival because there’s a much less likely chance I’ll drown.”
Rafayel blinked at you. Then blinked at you again. He was staring like he was waiting for something, and you matched his expression as you waited for his response.
“Is… that supposed to be joke or something, cutie, because I, uh, don’t get it,” he finally said with an awkward chuckle.
“It’s not a joke,” you huffed, squirming until his confused gaze.
There was a reason you’d never mentioned this before. He’d told you so much about himself, about Lemuria, and you knew you should have said something, but it always felt so ridiculous, and the longer time went on, the bigger the secret felt.
Now, there was nowhere left to run, so you took a deep breath and confessed.
“I can’t swim, okay?”
You were staring down at his stupid shoes as you spoke, and you braced yourself for his teasing. When the silence continued to stretch, heavy and unbroken, a knot tightened in your gut.
Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore, and you lifted your face, expecting Rafayel to be choking down a bout of laughter.
Instead, he looked… horrified? His eyes were wide, his face pale, his mouth half agape.
Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly glanced over your shoulder for the Wanderer that must have appeared, but there was nothing. Just the park and the crowd of festival goers moving around the two of you like a river over stones.
Frowning, you turned back to Rafayel, who still looked like he was going to be sick.
“Raf?” you asked tentatively.
He jolted out of his stupor, blinking rapidly as his eyes refocused on you. Clearing his throat, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when he spoke, his voice was a harsh rasp.
“If this is a prank…”
“Why would this be a prank?” you scoffed, fighting the heat in your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing enough as it is.”
“You… really can’t swim?” he asked as he stared at you intensely.
You shrugged, kicking at the ground. “I mean, I can kind of doggy-paddle for a while. Maybe like a minute. Does that count?”
Rafayel swayed on his feet like you’d dealt him a physical blow, palming his forehead and looking faint.
“This is…” he muttered and shook his head. Then he shook it more vigorously and straightened up, and when his eyes met yours again, they were twin aurora flames. “Nope, this isn’t right. This is wrong on an actual, cosmic level. I cannot abide this. My soulmate can’t not know how to swim, what kind of Lemurian would I be?”
He’d used this word before, soulmate. Most of the time, it was said in a silly, joking manner, like when you both got the same drinks at the café, or when your outfits coincidentally complimented each other without any coordination.
A few times, though, he’d said it in quiet, private moments, moments where a joke didn’t fit, and he said the word in a tone you couldn’t quite decipher. He always moved on quickly when that happened, and you always found yourself wondering if there was another layer to the joke you just weren’t getting.
Right now was one of those latter moments, but before you could even think to question it, Rafayel grabbed your hand and started dragging you after him.
“Rafayel!” you protested, your shorter legs struggling to keep up with his clipped pace. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going home, and I’m teaching you how to swim,” he said with a finality that you’d only heard him use with people who had really pissed him off.
He didn’t seem angry at you, though, more the situation, which was ridiculous, but you’d long since accepted the fact that the artist could be more than a little ridiculous at times.
“Raf, it’s not a big deal—” you tried to argue.
“On the contrary,” he cut you off. “It’s the biggest deal ever. I can’t exist in this world one more day knowing you can’t swim.”
“A lot of people don’t know how to swim,” you huffed defensively.
“Sure,” Rafayel agreed as he weaved through the crowd heading to the festival, towing you in his wake. “But you can’t be one of those people. Not while I’m around.”
His tone left little room for argument, but you tried to carve some out anyway, feeling that old sense of dread crawling up your spine.
“I-I don’t even have a swimsuit.” Okay, that was a weak attempt, but Rafayel had already reached the edge of the park and was using his other hand to call a car.
“I’ll order you a dozen to be delivered to the studio,” he said without looking up from his phone. “They’ll be there when we arrive.”
“You don’t even know my size,” you grumbled.
Rafayel pulled to a stop at the curb, and you stumbled before finding your balance. When you looked over at him, his eyes were skimming over you in turn. Slowly. Intensely. Until every inch of your skin was prickling.
As his gaze finally met yours, he smirked and squeezed your hand.
“Wanna bet?” he asked in that low voice that struck you low in the gut.
You huffed and turned away, trying to ignore the fire in your cheeks, and Rafayel chuckled under his breath.
Just then, a car pulled up in front of you, and Rafayel finally pocketed his phone.
“Here’s our ride,” he said, letting go of your hand to open the door. Then he bowed with a flourish. “After you, cutie.”
You scowled and considered high-tailing it back to the festival, but you knew it was a futile endeavor. When Rafayel got in these weird, intense moods, nothing could persuade him.
So, you sighed and marched forward, but you still shot the artist a glare as you slid into the backseat of the car.
“I still expect a picnic,” you said. “Several courses. With multiple kinds of dessert.”
Rafayel grinned, the afternoon sun dancing in his rainbow eyes. “Already ordered.”
~*~*~*~*~
“Maybe we could just—”
“Nope.”
“Okay, but what if—”
“Nu-uh,” Rafayel cut you off again. “You aren’t talking yourself out of this one, cutie. We already ate a delectable seven-course picnic, and we tanned while we let our food settle. I held up my end of the bargain, now you must hold up yours.”
“I never signed a contract,” you argued, digging in your heels.
“Your agreement was implied when you ate, hmmm, half a dozen oysters, several crab legs, those fried squid balls, the seaweed salad… oh! And three slices of cake.”
You scowled and crossed your arms, but the pose felt less intimidating in your new bathing suit. It was thankfully a more modest piece than some of the bundles of floss Rafayel had ordered, but you still felt exposed and prickly with anxiety. Your toes dug into the warm sand, like that could keep you anchored to the shore, but now the lavender-haired artist was tugging on your hands with that annoying, charming smile of his.
“C’mon, Miss Bodyguard,” he teased as he led you, step by step, toward the rock outcropping on the edge of his private beach. “I’ve seen you face down a horde of Wanderers without breaking a sweat.”
“Yeah, because I have a gun in my hand,” you deadpanned before glancing nervously over his shoulder at the approaching waves. “I can’t shoot the ocean.”
“I mean, you could, but the fishies wouldn’t be very happy,” he chuckled, but when you shot him another glare, he sighed and finally came to a stop at the base of the outcropping. “Okay, seriously. Why are you so worried?”
“I…” You mouth opened, but nothing came out. Swallowing tightly, you tried again as your hands tightened around his. “I don’t like being in situations I haven’t prepared extensively for. And the ocean is dangerous. One wrong move, and…”
Your voice trailed off as your eyes darted to the waves crashing against the rocks, but then Rafayel shifted until his face was all you could see.
For once, his expression was uncharacteristically serious, and his eyes held yours steadily.
“The ocean can be dangerous,” he agreed. “But nothing is going to happen to you. I’ll be right by your side the entire time. Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do, but--”
“But nothing,” he interrupted. Then he saw your still uncertain expression, so he lifted one of your hands to his bare chest, pressing it flat over his heart and that strange tattoo he refused to tell you about. “I, Rafayel, son of Lemuria, vow that no harm will befall you in these waters. On my life I do solemnly swear.”
For a moment, you thought he was just being overdramatic again, but to your shock, his skin began to glow beneath your hand. Gasping, you shifted your fingers just in time to see the warm light fade into the dark ink of his tattoo.
“What… did you do?” you breathed, eyes flicking up to his.
“I made an ancient, unbreakable vow with the sea,” he said as his gaze bored into yours, and you suddenly felt like the entire world beyond his swirling eyes didn’t exist. “If even a drop of your blood is shed, my life is forfeit. I will dissolve into nothing more than seafoam on the waves.”
You gaped at him with horror, until his lips twitched up at the corners.
“Don’t worry, though,” he said in a lighter tone. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Making an offended noise, you ripped your hand away from his chest, only to bring it right back in a light slap.
“You jerk,” you grumbled. “I almost believed you.”
“When have I ever lied to you, cutie?” Rafayel laughed, but his smile was strange, almost sad.
Then you blinked, and he was suddenly catching your hands again, tugging you forward, and sweeping you off your feet.
“Raf!” you squealed as you instinctively clutched his shoulders. “Put me down!”
“No can do, sweetheart,” he said as he started to climb up the rocky outcropping with ease. “Can’t have you cutting those adorable little toes on these rocks! Seafoam, remember?”
“I’ll turn you into seafoam!” you threatened, struggling in his grasp, but he just pressed you tighter against his chest.
“Sure, but first you’ll learn how to swim,” he shot back as he crested the top of the rock.
“Raf! Rafayel!” You doubled-down on your struggling as he approached the sea-side edge of the outcropping, and your heart was pounding in your ears, fear metallic on the back of your tongue.
He finally came to a stop but didn’t set you down, and he said your name multiple times until you looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I-If you throw me from here, I s-swear—”
“I’m not going to throw you,” he said in a calm voice. “We’re going to jump, together.”
“That’s not much better!” You renewed your attempt at escape. “Do you know how deep that is? I’m going to drown! I—”
“You aren’t going to drown,” he sighed for the millionth time today.
“How do you know?” you snapped mindlessly, the animal in your brain screaming to run and lash out.
But Rafayel just smiled, slow and easy, with the salt-tinged wind ruffling his purple hair.
“Because of this,” he said.
Then he ducked his head and kissed you.
The touch of his mouth shocked you so much that you abruptly went limp. He’d always been touchy-feely, ever since you met him. He was constantly holding your hand, playing with your hair or fingers, tugging you into his side. He’d even kissed your cheeks a couple times when he was particularly excited, like when he finally figured out a problem he was having with a painting.
He had never actually kissed you, though, not for real. There had been a couple moments when you’d thought he might, but they were gone so quickly that you always told yourself you were imagining things.
Now, his lips were pressed firmly to yours. You could taste the strawberry frosting from the cake on them, feel their warmth against your own. That warmth traveled through your whole head, down your throat, and into your chest until you felt like you were swallowing the sun.
Then, as quick as he appeared, Rafayel pulled back.
You blinked owlishly at him, speechless in your shock, and his aurora eyes lingered on your mouth before rising up to meet your own.
“I imagined that going a little differently,” he murmured nonsensically, and he was so close still, his breath mingled with yours. “But… I’m not complaining. Now, hold on.”
“W-What?” you asked as your synapses started firing again.
Rafayel grinned, and without saying another word, he sprinted forward the final distance and jumped off the outcropping, with you in his arms.
Your shriek was snatched away by the wind, and you barely had time to panic before you hit the water. The coolness after the hot summer sun was its own shock, but it wore off quickly, and you instantly began to thrash.
“Calm down,” Rafayel’s voice sounded in your ear, slightly muffled but still perfectly clear. “I’ve got you.”
Your brain registered the words but didn’t pass along the message to the rest of your body. You continued to flail, surrounded in a mass of disorienting bubbles, until strong hands caught your arms and pinned them to your sides. Your legs kicked double time in response, but then longer and more muscular legs locked around your own.
The affect was instantaneous. You sank like a stone.
Panicked, you snapped your head around until you saw Rafayel’s face. Anger and betrayal warred inside you, but they faltered when they saw his smile.
“Relax,” he laughed, a few bubbles snaking out the corners of his lips. “Take a breath.”
Your anger overrode your good sense, and you opened your mouth.
“You idiot, I can’t brea—” You cut yourself off as realization struck you, but instead of choking on water, feeling the burn in your lungs as they filled, you felt… nothing.
Well, not nothing. Your chest still felt very warm, like it did when he kissed you.
Stunned, you looked down, expecting… well, you didn’t know what. But your body looked normal. It looked the exact same as it always had, except now, you were somehow breathing under water.
“Are we done fighting now?” Rafayel asked in a teasing tone.
You lifted your head and gaped at his still grinning face, and you fought against the instinct to keep your mouth closed to ask the burning question on the tip of your tongue.
“W-What… how…?”
“Lemurian perk.” Rafayel smirked as he finally let go of your arms, raising one hand to brush his thumb along the corner of your mouth. “It’ll last until we surface. This way, I can teach you how to actually swim, without you worrying about stupid things like drowning.”
You just stared at him incredulously, but when he moved to fully let you go, you flailed and clung to him like an octopus.
“Wait! D-Don’t go.”
“I’m not going far,” he chuckled. “But it’s a little hard to swim without using any limbs.”
He had a point, but you still refused to release him.
“C’mon, cutie, what are you still afraid off?” he asked, and while there was still a teasing undertone to his words, they were also warm with reassurance.
“I-I don’t know,” you admitted shyly, still trying to wrap your head around the strange sensation of talking— breathing!— underwater. You could feel the water entering your mouth, but then it just seemed to… disappear, and you could talk normally, even if the sound was slightly muffled to your ears.
This was so weird.
Suddenly, a finger jabbed your forehead, and you jolted.
“Tell your brain to stop eating itself and focus on me,” Rafayel said with a mock-stern expression. “Your lesson is about to begin. Now, I’m going to let go of you, okay?”
He waited until you shakily nodded, and then he released his hold on you. It took you a few more seconds to do the same, but you finally let go, and then the two of you were floating opposite each other.
Nervously, you glanced up at the surface, which seemed so high above, and a twinge of fear wound through your veins again. But then you took a deep breath, reminded yourself you could take a deep breath, and the anxiety slowly faded.
In its place rose a quiet awe, and you turned your head in every direction to take in the sights you never thought you’d see. Distantly, you also realized the salt-water wasn’t stinging your eyes like it should, so you could see perfectly clearly, and you wondered if that was more Lemurian magic. You decided to keep your questions to yourself for now and just enjoy the crazy experience.
Most directions were nothing more than a blue wall, but on one side you could see a shadow in the distance, rising up from the sea floor.
“That’s the reef I was talking about,” Rafayel said when he followed your gaze. “We can see it later, once you’ve mastered the basics.”
“That basics?” you asked as you turned back to him.
The artist’s grin this time was full of sharp teeth, and you could have sworn his eyes flashed a glowing blue for just a moment.
~*~*~*~*~*~
To your great shock, Rafayel was a strict and exacting teacher. You’d never seen this side of the aloof and, at times, downright lazy artist. Normal Rafayel was practically allergic to any type of movement that could even be construed as exercise. You’d actually seen him go over a day without eating because he forgot his phone in another room in the studio, and walking thirty feet to fetch it and order dinner was “wayyyyy too much work.”
Swim-Instructor Rafayel was a different man entirely.
He had you running drills until the muscles in your arms and legs were nothing but gelatin. Sure, the fear of drowning had vanished, but now it was replaced by a fear of being stuck in the ocean until your kicking form was absolutely perfect.
Eventually, though, the sun began to set, and the already darker waters became too dark for your weak human eyes. When you swam into Rafayel for the tenth time, he finally sighed and said the lesson was over for today… once you swam up to the surface.
“I don’t think I can make it,” you groaned as you floated limply in the water.
“Guess you’ll be stuck down here then,” he said, starting to kick upwards.
“Wait!” You lashed out, grabbed his ankle, and dragged him back down, using the momentum to propel yourself up.
Rafayel’s laughter floated up with you, and even though your limbs felt heavy as lead, you kicked your legs and moved your arms as the Lemurian taught you, and before long, you reached the surface.
It felt like you were inhaling ice when you sucked in your first breath, but the sensation quickly faded into a cool lull spreading through your chest. Your lungs still worked perfectly fine it seemed, which you were grateful for.
Wiping the wet hair out of your eyes, you treaded water like a pro, bobbing along the gentle waves. You grinned and looked around for Rafayel, eager to show him how well you’d internalized his lessons, even up on the surface.
But the water was empty around you, stretching out in every direction.
“Raf?” You frowned as you turned in a circle.
No response.
“Rafayel!” you called out a little louder.
Still nothing.
Just when you were starting to worry and about to duck your head back under the water, a splash off to the side startled you.
You turned in that direction… just in time to see a massive, purple-blue tailfin slip back into the waves.
Fear struck you like a lightning bolt. You’d barely seen any sea life all afternoon, just a few schools of small fish that kept their distance. You weren’t even sure if there were actually sharks in these waters, but that’s the idea your brain latched onto.
What if it had already gotten Rafayel? And now it was after you.
Your eyes darted to the shore, where your picnic blanket, clothes, and more importantly, your gun were still laid out. The strip of beach seemed impossibly far, but you might be able to—
Your thoughts were derailed when that fin broke the surface again, but this time, it was so close that water splashed into your face. You yelped, backpedaling in the water, and when you wiped your eyes, you saw a massive shadow circling around you, its radius growing smaller and smaller.
Every muscle in your body locked up, but before terror could completely seize you, that tailfin broke through the water again. It was right in front of your now, and as the sunset glinted off the purple, blue, and pink scales, familiarity struck you in the chest.
All at once, your fear dissolved, like the seafoam on the waves, and a smile broke out over your face despite yourself.
This time, when the tailfin slipped back into the water with another splash in your direction, you laughed, sucked in a deep breath, and ducked back under the waves.
Without the Lemurian magic, the salt-water stung your eyes, but you didn’t care. Your blurry gaze immediately locked onto the huge tail in the corner of your vision, and you spun and kicked as you chased it.
Muffled laughter reached your ears, and then that hazy, purple shadow whipped around, and suddenly Rafayel was floating in front of you with a grin.
He looked different, though, and not just because of the tail.
Ink or some kind of markings wove across his chest and up his neck, tangled with smatterings of scales in the same blue, purple, and pink hues as his tail. Small patches of darker blue scales sat under his eyes and across the tops of his cheekbones, like iridescent freckles. His galaxy eyes were mostly the same, but they seemed to glow with an inner fire that made you feel warm despite the cool sea. His ears were also elongated and ethereal, like fins fanning out from the sides of his head, and when movement caught your attention, you realized he had gills flaring on either side of his neck.
He was so beautiful that your eyes ached from more than the sea water.
As you floated there staring at him, though, a flash of uncertainty crossed Rafayel’s face, and some of the light glimmering in his eyes and on his scales dimmed.
You couldn’t have that, so you opened your mouth to tell him what you really thought…
Except you forgot you couldn’t talk or breath underwater currently, and all you succeeded in doing was sucking in a mouthful of water and choking.
Rafayel’s eyes bulged out of his skull, and his powerful tail propelled him through the water before you could even blink. His strong arm wrapped around your waist, and then he was dragging you to the surface, which thankfully wasn’t very far this time.
Still, you coughed and sputtered once your head broke into the air, and you would feel embarrassed if you weren’t too preoccupied hacking up salt water.
“Are you okay?!” Rafayel’s frantic voice broke through the cacophony of your coughing, and when you blearily lifted your head, you saw his worried face inches from your own.
He still looked so otherworldly, like something out of a children’s fairy tale, with his finned ears poking out of his wet lavender hair. The last rays of sun caught the scales under his eyes, and without thinking, you lifted a shaky hand to touch them.
The Lemurian flinched minutely at your touch, but when you shifted to cup his cheek, he relaxed slightly.
“Cutie,” he sighed. “Don’t scare me like that, I—”
“You’re beautiful,” you blurted out in a hoarse rasp, and when he blinked at you in confusion, you cleared your throat and tried to clarify your random statement. “That’s what I was trying to say, before I nearly drowned.”
“I told you, you’re not drowning with me here,” he grumbled as he clutched you a little closer, and you realized he was still holding you up while the pair of you bobbed along with the waves.
You also noticed that despite his petulant tone, a blush was streaked high across his cheeks, and to your delight, even his finned ears flushed a darker indigo.
“What’s wrong?” you teased. “You’re not usually one to shy away from a compliment.”
Rafayel pouted, his blush deepening, but before he could respond, you felt something brush against your legs. It was hard, solid, and a little coarse, and you glanced down to see his tail lazily waving back and forth in the water as it kept you both afloat.
You followed the hypnotic movement for a moment, but then Rafayel nudged your chin up with his finger.
“You’re staring, cutie,” he muttered.
“Can you blame me?” you laughed and shook your head. “You’re— I don’t know what I was expecting when you told me about your true form, but this… this blows every expectation out of the water. No pun intended. You’re incredible, Raf.”
“Really?” You’d never seen that tentative, earnest smile on his face, and you were seized by the sudden urge to kiss him silly.
You nearly did, too, but then you reminded yourself that the kiss earlier had just been so he could share his people’s magic with you, nothing more. A kernel of disappointment unfurled in your chest, but you swallowed it down as you smiled back at him.
“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” you scoffed as you lightly splashed him with water.
“If they’re from you, I’ll fish all day long,” he shot back with a grin before his expression sobered. “I, um… I actually haven’t shown many people this form. Not even Thomas knows about it. So I just… I don’t know.”
He trailed off with a helpless shrug, and your heart swelled with so much warmth that you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning up and pecking a quick kiss against his cheek. His scales were rough beneath your lips, but not unpleasantly so, and your mouth tingled as you pulled back.
“Well, I feel very honored,” you said honestly, and to lighten the mood, you threw in a joke. “Don’t go showing anyone else, so I can remain the only special person to witness this Rafayel masterpiece.”
His cheeks and ears darkened again, but a smile tugged at his lips.
“You got yourself a deal, Miss Bodyguard,” he said before his face took on a mischievous look. “But only if you beat me back to shore.”
He made to let go of you, but in a déjà vu moment, you threw your arms around his neck and clung to him like there were suckers on your skin.
“Noooooo,” you whined. “I’m so tireddddd. Didn’t you say the lesson was done once I reached the surface?”
Rafayel smirked, but his arms slowly wrapped around you again.
“I guess I did say that, huh?” he drawled as his fingers drew patterns up your spine.
“You did.” You nodded smartly. “So, instead of Swim-Instructor Rafayel, why don’t you be Raft Rafayel and carry me back to shore?”
“Hmmm, you sure drive a hard bargain, cutie,” he chuckled. “But I am a gentlemen, soooo…”
As he spoke, his body suddenly shifted, and you yelped as you were lifted out of the water. When things settled, Rafayel was floating on his back, with you sprawled out across his chest, and his massive tail acting as a rudder as he steered you back toward the beach.
“How’s the weather up there, Captain Cutie?” he asked as he tucked both of his hands behind his head to act as a pillow.
His tail was so strong that he didn’t even need his arms to swim, and now you were the one fighting a blush as you tried to find purchase on his slick chest.
In an effort to not think any inappropriate thoughts, you sat up slightly, cupped your hands in front of one eye like you were looking through an eyeglass, and squinted.
“The seas be fair,” you replied in a terrible pirate accent. “And I think I see some treasure, just on that beach over there!”
You pointed to where the abandoned picnic blanket still lay, with an assortment of leftovers from your earlier feast, and after all that swimming, you thought you deserved a few more slices of cake.
“Mmm, I dunno,” Rafayel drawled. “I think an even greater treasure is much closer.”
You frowned and dropped your fake eyeglass, about to ask what he meant, but when you looked down at him, he was smiling up at you so softly that something in your belly flipped.
“I-I think my first mate might need to get his eyes checked,” you joked weakly.
His smile widened, and his eyes never left your face.
“Actually, Captain, I think I’m seeing clearly for the first time in ages.”
You blushed, swatting at him half-heartedly, and he laughed but stopped teasing you as he finished swimming back to shore.
Soon after, the pair of you were stretched out on that picnic blanket while the last rays of sun slipped below the horizon. As dusk settled over the beach, you finished your last bite of cake and turned to the man beside you. He’d traded his tail for legs again, though there had been a harrowing moment when he stepped out of the surf naked, and you’d squeaked and darted back into the studio to find him a new pair of swim trunks.
Now, the last of the sea water was drying on his chest, and your eyes dipped to the marking above his heart, the one that had glowed when he made his bogus vow earlier.
“So, is this a Lemurian marking, then?” you asked as you reached out, but you stopped just short of touching his skin, your fingers hovering a hair’s breadth away. “What does it mean?”
Rafayel turned away from the horizon and looked down. His face did a complicated dance, too quickly for you to name all the moves and emotions. When he looked back up at you, he was smiling, but you could have sworn there was a shadow of sadness hiding in the depths of his rainbow-colored eyes.
“Sorry, cutie,” he murmured. “But I’ve got to save some secrets for myself, or I’ll lose my cool, mysterious aura.”
You scoffed and pushed him away, but when he whined about being bullied after working so hard to teach you how to swim, you caved and let him pull you back in.
Somehow, you ended up laying with your head on his chest while he reclined back on the blanket and pointed out the constellations that were just starting to dot the sky.
With his heartbeat in one ear and his soothing voice in the other, you smiled as you traced a single finger over that mysterious tattoo.
You hoped one day he would share the story behind it with you, but until then, you could be patient.
You only know of one person who can heal wounds they have never made, so when your favorite book falls apart, Rafayel is the first to know.
1,174 words. fluff, domestic bliss, unconditional love, hurt/comfort, insecurity, inspired by the memoria "Ivory Nightfall," f!reader, cross-posted on ao3
a/n: Doting Rafayel is very much needed in these trying times lol. I hope you enjoy!
dividers by @saradika-graphics | ao3 link here
Rafayel has all the solutions in the world.
That’s what you think as you stare at your favorite book’s state. A hardback that’s been loved for years suddenly collapsed in the middle of a re-read, the spine and the front cover falling straight onto your lap while your hands are left to grasp the rest of the pages that threaten to fall apart too. Not the best thing to happen when you’re already about to pull your hairs off of your head, but you figure that a certain artist could help you fix this book.
He’s fixed many things of yours that he hasn’t broken. Surely he can fix this book and make it look like it’s brand new, right?
With the burning sun as your witness, you take a deep breath before knocking on Rafayel’s front door. He isn’t expecting you until next week for an exhibition, and frankly, you have no idea what he’s up to today. He could open the door and the first thing you would see behind him is a ton of paint cans and unfinished canvases, or maybe he’d have other visitors who sit where you usually sit.
Or, maybe he wouldn’t open the door at all.
On your third knock, the door does open, and the first thing you see is a distraught Rafayel. He wears an apron with little goldfish as its design, and he catches his breath as though he ran a marathon to get to the front door.
“Cutie! Perfect timing. I just finished cooking some lunch. What brings you here?”
You clutch your tote bag a little tighter when you see Rafayel’s soft smile. It pains you to know that it will soon turn into a frown when he understands that you’re visiting for a mere book. A book that means everything to you but nothing to him.
“Um…” The doormat that says Tread lightly is the most interesting thing you can focus on while you try to catch your words and your heart.
“I mean,” he shrugs, “You don’t have to have an excuse. You can visit me whenever you feel like it.”
Your heart swells, but you clear your throat before it soars too high. “I… I was actually hoping you could fix something for me. I hope it’s not too much to ask-”
“Nothing you ask for is too much.”
Rafayel tilts your chin up so you could meet his gaze. The happiness in his eyes rivals the sorrow in yours, yet you’re greedy enough to bask in it until you can believe that his happiness is because of you.
“Come in,” he says, stepping aside to welcome you into his humble abode. “There’s sandwiches on the table, some water if you need it, and even fruits! I know you once told me I need to diversify my foods, which is ridiculous considering I only eat seafood...”
With every new word that comes out of his lips, your smile grows a little wider. The silence of your ruthless mind is filled with his everlasting presence, letting you rest from your inner battles for at least a little while.
You take a seat on his sofa, where a painting stares back at you with its blues. The familiarity of it doesn’t escape you, but you know you have more urgent matters to take on, so your focus darts back to your tote bag.
“I have this… this book.” You take it out to show it to him. The spine and front cover sits atop of the pages, and some of them would’ve fallen to the ground had Rafayel not caught them in time. “And I was wondering if you could help restore it back to how it once was.”
When the book is in his hands, he inspects it thoroughly. Broken pages look salvageable and even beautiful when he looks through them, counting page numbers with hope in his eyes. The parts of your favorite book that are severed and imperfect to you are held carefully and studied with no disdain.
An artist truly has a way of finding beauty in everything.
“I can try,” he finally says, “But I can’t promise it’ll look as good as it used to.”
Surprise is in his eyes when you’re tearing up at the news. He inches a little closer to you, reaching to hold your shaking hands and carrying every word you leave unsaid. And you let him — oh, you’d let him hear every last word of your burdens if it meant you could have a break from it all.
“I’ve never fixed a book in my life, let alone a book this old. I’ve befriended the librarian in the university I used to work for though, and I’ve watched her glue textbooks together until they were usable again.”
“But I don’t want my book to just be usable. I want it to look perfect again.”
His smile is one of amusement, but his kisses on your knuckles are from a force unfamiliar to you. “Do you not like the details that make this book stand out?”
Your gaze lands on the book, finding it hard to imagine liking the “stand out” details of it. The pages that are falling out, the scribbles you wrote in it that now peek out from the sides, the spine that barely holds onto the front cover…
“This book was loved and cherished over time, and I can tell from your notes, your folded pages, and even the broken covers that you gave it a good life. New and perfect books don’t have that luxury. And…” Rafayel carefully turns the pages to a little flower doodle you once drew absentmindedly, “What is there to change when you are all over this?”
Your breath hitches when his eyes meet yours again, seeing you in a way nobody else has. “Doesn’t that give you more of a reason to change it?” you ask.
Rafayel’s eyes turn stormy at the proposition, and with all the conviction in his body, he utters out a simple, “No.”
And you would have left it at that if it wasn’t Rafayel you were talking to.
“There is nothing I would want to alter about you, nothing I don’t see as beautiful.”
Your retort dies down in your throat when he places soft kisses in your palm, each and every one too gentle for what you believe you deserve. With every insult you have towards yourself, his lips know just how to quiet them down.
“The book, Rafayel,” you remind him. “I need you to fix it.”
He whines, rolling his eyes abruptly as he pulls back. “Fine, fine. Don’t blame me if this book that’s centuries old ends up looking very different from how it used to, ‘kay? I’m an artist, not a god, you know.”
But you don’t believe him one bit, not when the divine seeps through every second you spend with him.
Rafayel has all the solutions in the world, as well as all the love you didn’t know you needed.
a/n: "Ivory Nightfall" remains as one of my favorite tender moments cards because of its message about art. Art is preserved because it holds memories, and in turn, those memories are forever cherished. Despite this being a Rafayel fic, I find it very fitting for this movement to bring Valko back because his existence is a culmination of creative ideas, and we fight to be able to appreciate them.
Art is beautiful, and so are you.
Thank you for reading! Any form of interaction is appreciated. Take care :)
You knew Rafayel could be mean. But this? This was making your head spin.
"You're so beautiful like this, cutie." His words are sweet, yet his tone is clearly mocking. You strain against the ropes keeping you pinned to the bed, the gag in your mouth preventing you from voicing your desperation.
Your cruel yet beautiful boyfriend is settled between your spread legs, absentmindedly turning a wand vibrator in his hand. The other rests on your thigh, stroking the heated skin slowly. Probably intended to be a comforting gesture, but it only works you up more.
He'd been at this for hours.
"Focus. Don't start going dumb on me now. Though, that's your natural state, isn't it?" He smacks the sensitive skin of your inner thigh to regain your attention, smiling as you quickly lock onto his form. His smile is so joyous, so charming. At least, you're pretty sure it is. It's hard to see through the tears.
"P-please!" You manage to whine through the gag, though it has the opposite effect. His gaze darkens, leaning over you until he's so close his nose nearly brushes yours.
"I told you to be quiet, didn't I?" His tone is soft, but the underlying threat is clear. You nod quickly, and it passes in a flash. He grins, kissing your forehead and sitting back up.
"You're usually such a good listener cutie! Haven't gone that dumb yet, have you?" He lowers the vibrator back down to your aching clit, relishing in the way you gasp, back arching in a desperate attempt to get away from the stimulation.
"Getting close?" He practically laughs at your pinched expression of desperation, tears soaking the pillow under your head. As if feeling bad for your poor pitiful form, he leans down once more, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
"Aw, don't cry! I'll let you cum soon, okay?" He pulls the gag from your mouth, allowing you the reprieve of pleading openly.
"Please! Pl-please Raf I-I can't take anymore please-please let me cum?"
For a moment, everything freezes. Like the calm before a storm, he studies you intensely, as if you're no more than a small fish floating by the open sharks' mouth.
"Alright. Since you were so well behaved today. You can cum. But not yet. I didn't give you permission to speak, remember?"
ꪆৎ yandere!raf who you didn’t just meet by chance—he made sure you did. before you ever exchanged a word, he already knew your name, your schedule, the café you stopped at after work, the scent you wore when you wanted to feel confident. you were a muse before you even existed in his world. he made sure you’d want to stay in it.
ꪆৎ yandere!raf would never hurt you—he’d guide you. nudge you. gently shift your path until all roads lead back to him. “coincidences” pile up. you run into him everywhere. your social circle narrows without you realizing. people who make you uncomfortable quietly disappear. he just smiles. “i guess fate wants us together, hm?”
ꪆৎ yandere!raf knows how to make you feel like the center of his universe. a sultry little smirk, a soft-spoken “i missed you, cutie,” and suddenly you’re forgetting why you were mad. he’ll open up about his fears of being abandoned, let the cracks show just enough to keep you close. don’t you see? you’re the only one who really knows him.
ꪆৎ yandere!raf tracks you in every sense of the word. your phone’s been tracked for weeks. he has your passwords memorized by the time you tell him your favorite color. the security cam in your building? the feed is always running on his tablet. the shell necklace he gifted you? there’s a chip in the pearl. he’s been tracking your period since before you met, just so he can present whichever version of himself you need at any given time of the month. but it’s fine—he just wants to protect you.
ꪆৎ yandere!raf craves your presence at all times. he’ll never say he needs you every second—but he’ll paint you over and over again. he’ll leave little sketches where you’ll find them. show up with your favorite drink right when you’re tired. “just thought of you,” he says, while his fingers twitch like they’re dying to grab hold of your wrist. he needs you in his orbit. being apart too long makes him… unstable.
ꪆৎ yandere!raf will not tolerate problems in your life. if someone crosses you, they won’t know it’s him who ends them. but he’ll show up at your door that night, fingers stained with paint, kiss your temple and murmur, “you don’t need to worry about them anymore.” you don’t ask questions. his eyes glow a little too blue when he smiles.
ꪆৎ yandere!raf touches you like he’s worshipping. obsessed with your scent, your voice, the way you say his name. “say it again,” he’ll whisper, lips at your neck. “say it like i’m the only one.” and you do. because by the time you realize how deep you're in… you already belong to him.
ꪆৎ yandere!raf loves leaving traces on your body. hickeys hidden just above your collarbone, the scent of his cologne on your sheets, faint red marks around your wrists from where he held you just a little too tightly. he might “accidentally” leave one of his rings on your nightstand. a reminder. you’re his.
ꪆৎ yandere!raf kisses you like a man in love—but more than that, like a man possessed. his hands tremble against your skin, like he’s constantly holding himself back from devouring you whole. he wants you dizzy, ruined, boneless in his arms. every time he touches you, it feels like an offering. his mouth worships, his hands control.
ꪆৎ yandere!raf lives between your thighs. he’ll drop to his knees without a second thought, licking you with slow, reverent strokes like he’s memorizing you. whispers against your skin: “so sweet… i could keep you like this forever.” and sometimes, he tries to. keeps you spread open on silk sheets, writhing, overstimulated—until you’re crying his name and promising you’ll never leave him.
ꪆৎ yandere!raf gets off on control. it’s not just about pleasure—it’s about watching you fall apart because of him. he’ll bind your wrists in soft ribbons made from silk. he’ll blindfold you so all you can feel is his voice in your ear and his hands on your body. “no one else will ever know you like i do, cutie,” he hums. “no one else deserves to.”
ꪆৎ yandere!raf doesn’t need to go rough, but the darker your love becomes, the more he wants to feel your heartbeat stutter under his hand. a palm on your throat, a bite at your inner thigh, a bruise where his mouth lingered too long. “mine,” he pants into your neck, voice shaking. “say it again.”
summary: you don't want to get out of bed, and Rafayel respects that entirely, keeping you company and in high spirits.
tags: wanting to stay in bed, established relationship, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, caretaker Rafayel, emotional comfort, cuddling, hair stroking, pet names, acts of service, soft Rafayel
wc: 0.5k
masterlist
Rafayel is kind with his actions, when you look closely.
“Is my little fishie still in bed?”
Rafayel comes into your bedroom, undoing his tie. A fancy lunch with potential exhibit investors was to blame, and he was glad to be back home.
He smiles affectionately as his eyes come to rest across your figure still in bed, crackers that have been munched on and water sipped from. All brought to your side before he left.
“Mmm hmm,” you reply, not even bothering to move but you raise your head slightly. You watch him take off his shirt and swap his pants for something more comfortable.
“Good, I didn’t miss the party going on in here," he says softly.
From anyone else that would sound sarcastic, but as he gently comes into bed next to you and hugs you from behind, you know he is being genuine.
“Did I miss anything?” Rafayel asks you, joining you to gaze out of the bedroom window together.
“Only a pigeon that flew by.”
“Only a pigeon?” He asks. “That poor pigeon. Just living life and you don’t appreciate it.”
He smiles against your shoulder as you tangle your legs with his.
“And there was a flying insect. I think it was lost because it wanted to come inside.”
“See... it just knew you were in here, and it wanted to be cosy too.”
You nod.
“Would you look after me if I was that bug? Or would you squish me?” He asks seriously.
You laugh and he glows at the sound. “Of course I would.”
“Hey! I knew you would squish me!”
“No! I meant of course I would look after you, silly. I’d make sure to feed you what you can eat. And I wouldn’t put you in a container, I’d let you fly around wherever you please.”
“Then what if a pigeon eats me…”
“Enough of that silly," you twist to poke his cheek playfully. "I will look after you, don't worry." He nuzzles closer into your hand.
"How was your lunch?” you ask.
“So boringgg…”
Rafayel is kind with his words, when you look closely.
This is how he comforts you on a day when you don’t want to go anywhere or get out of bed. He doesn’t think it’s shameful. Everyone feels like that at some point in their life, and if anyone is to understand it, it would be him.
Rafayel will stay with you, keep you fed and hydrated, warm and cosy even when your thoughts are racing. He will ask you silly questions to distract you. He’d suggest you both go for a walk on the beach at sunset, even offering to carry you the whole way. Whatever you feel like, he’d respect.
As the peaceful day comes to an end, you look up at him. “Raf… thank you for looking after me.” Rafayel is half engrossed in reading a fashion magazine but he's still very present.
He looks down at you resting in his lap and stokes your hair gently with a tilt of his head.
“No problem cutie, that’s my job. And for you, my services are free of charge. Remember, because you’re my VIP.”
originally posted Jan. 17th, 2026 on @headquarters90
Pairing: Rafayel x Reader
Tags: fluff, slight suggestive towards the end
Words: 173
Notes: very quick piece, been on my mind for a hot mind as him and xavier gives me extreme cuteness agression. his cheeks get squished every time he's in the cafe lmao
Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI
Strength | Masterlist
Rafayel looked at you, blinking, as your hands cupped his cheeks before his nose scrunched as they soon squished against his cheeks, and you pressed a kiss against his nose.
“You’re too cute!” You declared, squishing his cheeks once more before you dropped your hands, a deep sigh leaving you. “It’s unfair.”
“…unfair,” he echoed, one of his hands coming up to rub against your cheek. “I was the one assaulted and you’re claiming it’s unfair!”
“I can bite instead?”
“…that would turn into something else, cutie, and you know that.”
You grinned at him before reaching out, pinching his cheek, and he let out a yelp, pushing your hands away.
“Cutie!” He whined, rubbing his cheek again as he pouted.
“Stop being cute!”
“I’m not doing anything!”
His hand caught your wrist before you could pinch his other cheek and he tugged you to him, his other arm wrapping around your waist as he pouted down at you.
“You o-!”
A curse left him as he felt teeth press against his shoulder, his hand tightening around your wrist a tad, and a low murmur of your name passed his lips.
“Troublemaker,” he added with a sigh before dipping his head low to press his lips against yours.
