Welcome to my writing blog!!!! My name is Squids, and I love stories!!!! I use she/her pronouns, I’m 25+, and I’ve recently graduated from my undergrad. I currently write both sfw and nsfw content.
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Interference - Gavin Bai x OC (Dad Gav)
Interlude for Lunch - Rafayel/Qi Yu x OC
Amends - Rafayel/Qi Yu x OC
It Is the Time You’ve Spent On Your Rose - Xavier/Shen Xingui x OC
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Avatar image and post header are art done by @jadesnapart (on both twitter and tumblr). Their art is absolutely beautiful and wonderful, please check out their work!!!!!
Wishing everyone a merry Christmas and happy holidays from lil Gav and me!!! I’m looking forward to all the things I could write (and keep writing) in 2025. I hope there are wonderful things in the future for everyone too 💖🎆💖🎆💖
Halloween is a busy day in the Bai household, but the fun doesn't stop once the kids have fallen into sugar comas at the end of the night. Gavin and Rowan have their own traditions for the night, when they can spend quiet time together enjoying being at each other's side.
Pairing: Gavin x MC (OC Rowan)
Tags: Fluff, established relationship/married, dad Gavin, domestic fluff, original characters (the baby bais)
Notes: Am I dropping a Halloween fic T-minus one day until Christmas season??? Maybe. But Halloween is a state of mind, and the neighbours still have their giant skeleton up so it's still the season!!! Also this fic was so cute I absolutely had to make sure I posted it. I think it's sweet, and I'm really proud of the work I put into this one. I hope you enjoy!!! <3
The late evening wind bit against Rowan’s cheeks, ruffling her hair and nearly tossing her decorative hat from her hair.
Beside her, Gavin reached out, snatching it before it could slip from her tangles and securing it back on her head.
“Don’t want to lose that,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the squeals and shouts of the children in the wagon he pulled behind them.
Three little girls sat huddled in the wagon, their shimmering skirts and puffy tulle piling up around them like layers of a cake. Candy was traded back and forth, arguments erupting about who liked kitkats most and who wanted the gummy skeletons they’d all been cursed with.
Arms aching, Rowan readjusted their fourth girl in her arms, wishing she’d had the foresight to bring the baby sling for Gardenia. The other three had been content to run around the streets, knocking on doors and singing ‘trick-or-treat’ and chatting with any other kids they came across, but Gardenia had gotten tired quickly, and had fussed when Rowan had tried putting her in the wagon.
It didn’t help that her back ached too, and her feet, already swelling again from her fourth pregnancy, felt like they were being stabbed with needles.
Rowan wanted to be carried right now, the heavy fabric of the costume dress she’d purchased at the behest of their eldest, Aurora, weighing on her like lead.
She wanted to lie down, wanted to sneak one of the large chocolate bars they’d purchased for any kids going by their house. But most desperately, she wanted to pee.
Gardenia murmured something about being cold and Rowan wrapped her arms more tightly around her.
“It’s okay, little princess,” she murmured, rubbing her back. “We’re almost home. Then we’ll get you all nice and warm.”
“Mama, can we watch a movie?” Aurora called, pushing Wisteria, their second oldest, backwards as she tried to stick her hand into Aurora’s pumpkin-shaped bucket.
“It’s very late,” Rowan said, kissing Gardenia’s head. “Maybe we can watch a movie tomorrow!”
Wisteria fell back against Cordelia, Gardenia’s twin, throwing her head back to gape at them upside down. “Boooo!”
Gavin covered his mouth to stifle his chuckle, averting his eyes when Rowan glared at him.
“I didn’t know you were a ghost, Wisteria.”
“Booooooooo!”
“Mama, she’s crushing me!”
Sighing, Rowan turned around fully to try and get Wisteria to move, even as Cordelia and Aurora started to wrestle with her to get her out of the way.
“MAMA!” Wisteria screeched, so loud Rowan’s ears began to ring. “MAMA THEY’RE STEALING MY CANDY!”
“We are not,” Aurora groused, clutching her own candy bucket to her chest and glaring at her sister.
Rowan winced, Gardenia’s nails digging into her shoulder as she tried to straighten. “Gardenia, sweetie, can you please be gentle with mama? That hurts.”
“Here,” Gavin paused, setting down the wagon’s handle. “Let me take her.”
Rowan winced as Gardenia dug her nails in more, already resisting being taken away. “Are you sure? You’re already pulling the wagon.”
Gavin sighed, prying Gardenia from Rowan’s arms. “Of course I’m sure, pumpkin. You’ve been carrying her all night.”
The relief was instantaneous, Rowan feeling like she was made of fluffy summer clouds, the tulle and shimmering pink fabric of her puffy skirt feeling less like iron weights trying to drag her through the earth.
Her back still ached though, and her feet, but at least it was a little easier to walk now.
A rumble of thunder rolled overhead and Gardenia whimpered, trying to reach out to Rowan again.
“You have to let mama rest,” Gavin gently scolded. “You’re getting bigger and she’s carrying your little sibling.”
Gardenia pouted, but grew quiet, focusing instead on scrambling on Gavin’s shoulders and clutching at his hair like the rat in a Disney movie.
“We should hurry,” Rowan said, looking up at the sky as storm clouds continued to roll in. It almost always rained on Halloween, and this year had been no different, with the forecast calling for a huge thunderstorm with high winds.
But the weather had held out as they’d headed out for the night to trick-or-treat, and Rowan kept her fingers crossed now that they would make it home before the skies opened up and drowned them in freezing autumn rain.
Gavin retrieved the wagon handle, giving Rowan a reassuring smile. “We’re almost there. Just a few more minutes.”
“Mamaaaa!”
Rowan’s attention was redirected as they continued their walk home, Wisteria telling her about the “ghost” she swore she’d seen. Cordelia kept trying to talk over her, telling her about how she wanted to dress as a rock next year so her and her pet rock could match.
Aurora, for her part, remained mostly quiet, seeming content that Wisteria had stopped trying to steal her candy. Although she did look like she was considering murder when Wisteria cut her off while she was talking about the crafts she’d done in class that day.
“You’ll have to show me when we get home,” Rowan said, smoothing back Aurora’s hair, hoping to distract her from any murderous intents.
Gavin tried to chime in too, although his attention ended up taken up solely by Gardenia, who had decided she wasn’t so scared of the rumbling thunder overhead that she couldn’t talk Gavin’s ear off.
Rowan caught snippets of something about vampires and drawing and a mess of toddler babbling and bubbling laughter.
She couldn’t help smiling, even as fatigue wore her down. She pressed a hand to her belly, listening as her babies and her Gavin chattered, listened as they squealed with laughter in-between very long yawns.
Wisteria was one of the first to succumb to her own fatigue, her eyes growing heavy, the warmth of the blankets they’d tucked into the wagon and the heavy layers of her costume dress getting the better of her. Rowan watched as she slumped to the side, snoring nearly as loud as the booming thunder. Beside her, Cordelia reached for her candy bucket, and Rowan tsked gently.
“No, we don’t steal from our sister,” she chided, and Cordelia drew her hand back, looking sheepish.
“But Wisteria steals from us!” Aurora whined.
“You were awake so you could stop her though. It’s not fair if Wisteria’s asleep.”
Cordelia blinked, looking like she was considering shaking Wisteria awake.
Which was not something anyone really wanted.
The only thing worse than a hyper Wisteria was a grouchy, over-tired Wisteria.
“Don’t bother your sister,” Rowan murmured, gently taking Cordelia’s hands. “Let her sleep. You’ve all had big days.”
“So does that mean no movie?” Aurora pouted, staring up at the starless sky.
“We can watch a movie tomorrow, sweet potato,” Gavin offered, turning to look at them over his shoulder. “Your mama and I are very tired.”
Cordelia stuck her tongue out and Aurora sighed, sounding like they’d told her she couldn’t go to a ball that night, and not that she’d have to wait until the next day to watch a movie.
Gavin winked at Rowan, the pale light that slipped in from between the clouds making his eyes glitter like the stars. It’s true that they were tired, but they wanted to spend some time together, just the two of them, doing one of their little Halloween traditions.
Which may or may not have included eating an entire box of chocolate bars while the kids were lost in their own sugar comas.
The first drops of rain caught in Rowan’s hair as she pulled her house key from her pocket, the warmth of the kitchen light they’d left on spilling through the windows. She opened the door quickly, ushering the girls inside before the storm could grow worse. Wisteria whined, having been awoken when the wagon trundled up their driveway, one of the wheels catching on the curb and jostling her awake. But Rowan just scooped her up, hauling her inside as a gust of wind screamed past, freezing rain skewering her back before she could get the door shut.
Step one, getting the girls home, had been accomplished, but Rowan knew the night was far from over. She knew there was no hope of getting any of them bathed, which meant they’d have to wrangle all four of them in the morning. But both she and Gavin still had to get them to abandon their candy stashes long enough to get changed into their pajamas.
A task that was easier said than done, another wave of exhaustion rolling over Rowan like an ocean tide as the girls dispersed, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the house as they chased one another. She heard Stella, their shepherd-husky mix, howling, the click of her claws scrabbling across the hardwood as she emerged from her crate to race after the little girls.
Rowan considered crumpling to the floor, in drowning in the layers of her dress, letting herself fall asleep in the pile of taffeta and tulle and cotton.
But before her legs could give out on her Gavin was taking her hand, guiding her to the couch, his other hand pressing gently on the small of her back.
“You should sit down,” he murmured, his eyes flicking down, to where the roundness of her belly was hidden beneath her heavy skirts. A crease formed between his brows, his mouth pulling into a frown. “You were on your feet for a while.”
“Babey, I’m not made of glass,” she countered, although her feet and her back screamed at her to listen, to relent.
His frown deepened, and he helped her to sit. She could see the memory of when she’d carried the twins, how sick she’d become so quickly.
“I’m okay,” she said, hoping her smile was reassuring, although if she were honest she was feeling a little like death itself. “I’m okay, it’s not like last time.”
The way Gavin narrowed his eyes told her he was not at all convinced, and instead of heeding anything she was saying he went to work unbuckling her shoes and setting them to the side.
“Just stay off your feet for a few minutes,” he murmured. “Close your eyes if you’re feeling tired, I can handle the girls.”
“I’m not tired-”
The look he gave her, as frigid as a January dawn, shut her up quickly. It was clear there would be no arguing tonight.
Not that it really stopped her, especially when her bladder was screaming at her now that she had to go.
“Gavin,” she whined, fidgeting awkwardly. “I don’t think I can stay still right now. I really have to pee.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, but then you should rest for a little, okay?”
She played with a ribbon that had come undone on the side of her skirts, twisting it around and around her fingers. “Well, it’s pretty hard to go to the bathroom wearing this costume…”
He sighed again, long and loud, just as Aurora had done earlier when Rowan had said no to a late night movie.
“Okay,” he relented, standing and fixing her with a glare. “But once you’ve changed and gone to the bathroom then rest.”
She gave him a little salute, feeling a little cheeky after hearing his thinly-veiled command. “Yes sir.”
Gavin arched a brow, but didn’t offer a comment as he stalked away, calling for the girls, laughing when one of them barreled into his legs.
Rowan staggered to her feet, lifting up her skirts and dragging herself up the stairs to their bedroom to shed her layers. She felt a little like a reptile, molting away a second skin she no longer needed.
She didn’t bother putting the dress away, instead kicking it to the side in a heap of pastel pink ruffles before rushing to the bathroom.
She changed afterwards, throwing on the soft nightgown Gavin had purchased for her birthday back in the winter. It was soft and already well loved, and it accommodated the swell of her pregnant body quite well.
She headed from her room and down the stairs, wondering if there would be any cookies leftover from the halloween treats she’d made with the girls for their halloween bake sale. She remembered she’d squirreled away a few ghost rice krispies and pumpkin sugar cookies, she just hoped none of the girls had found her stash.
She slipped into the kitchen, nearly colliding with the twins as they raced from Stella, their hands full of candy.
“Well what do we have here?” She asked, crouching down to wrap her arms around them.
“Stewwa!” Cordelia shrieked, burying her face against Rowan’s chest. A few feet away Stella stood with her tail wagging, her tongue lolling as she regarded them all curiously.
“She’s just telling you she missed you,” Rowan cooed, smoothing back their hair.
Gardenia held her handfuls of candy up to Rowan like an offering, her amber eyes solemn.
“What’s this?” She asked, scooping the candy from Gardenia’s hands. “Are you two trying to sneak candy before bedtime?”
Gardenia gave a somber nod, but Cordelia wouldn’t meet Rowan’s eyes, instead trying to wiggle out of her arms.
“Not so fast there, tater tot,” she teased, scooping Cordelia into her arms. “There’s no escape for you!”
Cordelia squealed with laughter as Rowan carted her from the kitchen, tickling her side. Stella followed at her heels, tail wagging so quickly it was little more than a blur of grey and brown.
Gavin poked his head from Aurora and Wisteria’s room, a wriggling Wisteria balanced on his hip as he gave Rowan an appraising look. “What’s going on?”
She lifted a giggling Cordelia into the air, wiggling her a little so she laughed harder. “Officer, I found this one trying to sneak candy before bed.”
Gavin arched a brow, and she could see him biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing, even as Wisteria began gnawing on his sweater. “She’ll have to be detained.”
Cordelia shrieked louder, but Rowan gathered her against her chest, bouncing her as she walked towards her room. “You heard officer papa, you’ll have to be detained all night.”
She settled Cordelia into bed, wrapping the blankets around her so she looked like a baby burrito. Cordelia squirmed a little, whining that she wanted to give her pet rock a kiss goodnight. Behind her, Rowan could hear Gardenia grumbling something she assumed was not pleasant.
Scooping Rocco from his makeshift bed on the windowsill, Rowan presented Cordelia her pet rock, letting her give it a kiss before settling it back in its bed.
“There you go, now Rocco will have good dreams,” she murmured, kissing Cordelia’s forehead. “And now you will too.”
She turned to do the same for Gardenia, who sat curled in a ball on her bed.
“What’s wrong, tater tot?”
Gardenia pouted. “No candy.”
“There will be loads of time for candy tomorrow,” Rowan said, perching on the side of the bed. “But right now it’s bedtime. It’s very late for you.”
Gardenia stuck her bottom lip out more, silver lining her eyes. Rowan braced herself for the tantrum, balling up the fabric of her nightgown in her fist as she waited for the crocodile tears to start falling.
But right at that moment Gavin walked in, giving Rowan a cool look before sitting next to her.
“Why don’t you wait for me in the living room,” he murmured, covering her hand with his. “I think I can handle this.”
Stretching out her fingers, Rowan nodded. She didn’t think it was worth it to argue with him, and she was pretty sure she didn’t have the energy to handle a tantrum right now. Her eyes were heavy, her body still ached, and her stomach was beginning to churn, as if it couldn’t decide yet if it was hungry or nauseous.
She pressed a kiss to Gardenia’s head before slipping out of the room. Stella sat waiting for her by the stairs, and she ran her hand over her soft, greying fur as she headed down to the living room.
She paused in the kitchen, swiping a can of ginger-ale from the fridge and rifling through her collection of treats that the girls hadn’t, thankfully, found just yet.
She even grabbed one of the pumpkin doggie cookies they’d bought from cute little pet shop that had opened nearby, getting Stella to do a quick trick before tossing it to her.
She was waiting on the couch when Gavin arrived, her legs stretched out on the couch, her back cushioned by downy pillows, a soft ghost-patterned blanket draped over her. She sipped her ginger-ale, still not entirely sure whether she was hungry or nauseous. She just hoped her body figured it out soon.
“I see you were not listening when I said to rest,” Gavin noted, sitting on the far side of the couch and drawing her legs over his lap. He massaged her ankles gently and she winced; she hadn’t realized they were that swollen.
“I was gonna,” she argued, playing with the aluminum tab on her can. “But there was an emergency.”
“What emergency?” He asked, and she could hear the laughter in his voice as he ran his hand up the side of her leg.
She looked away, focusing on where Stella had curled up on the floor next to the couch. “The twins were trying to steal candy.”
He snorted. “I found three full size aero bars underneath Wisteria’s pillow. I would hardly call it an emergency.”
Rowan looked back at him, alarmed. “I mean if it’s Wisteria, then yes that’s an emergency.”
“Not enough of an emergency that you needed to be running around.”
“I wasn’t running.”
Gavin sighed, the epitome of drama as he tossed his head back, his hair sliding over his brow, his eyes falling closed for the barest of moments. “I told you to sit down.”
“I’m not a glass doll, I was running around taking care of Aurora when I was pregnant with Wisteria.”
His eyes slid open just enough that she could make out the amber of his eyes, gold beneath the living room lights. “This isn’t the same as that and you know it.”
Rowan turned her head away, staring at the darkened television screen. “I was trying to take care of my babies.”
Gavin clicked his tongue, massaging her legs once more. “Tomorrow will definitely be a movie day.”
She sniffed. “I want to pick the movies.”
Gavin didn’t reply with anything other than a soft laugh, digging the pad of his thumb into her ankle.
She yawned, her eyes already growing heavy. They’d gotten back barely even an hour ago and she was already exhausted. Outside she could hear the patter of rain against the windows, the muffled crash of thunder. Lightning flashed, the shadows in the room dissolving for the barest of seconds before creeping back in.
“Sleepy?” He asked, smoothing his palm up her legs, pausing at her knees. “We could go to bed early if you’d like.”
She shook her head, and then immediately regretted it as her stomach twisted and churned. She covered her mouth for a moment, breathing through her nose as deeply as she could, her lungs aching before she began to breathe out.
“I want to spend some time with you,” she managed, taking another sip of her ginger-ale.
Gavin’s answering smile was soft, and he reached forward to grasp her free hand, bringing it to his lips. “I think that’s something we can agree on.”
“Oh finally,” she groused, as if her face wasn’t burning like a fire had been set beneath her skin.
“Finally?” He was laughing, he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was laughing.
“Now if only we could agree on some snacks.”
Gavin eyed the cookie perched on the back of the couch she had yet to touch. “What were you thinking?”
She shrugged, sipping her drink again, the bubbles finally starting to calm the roiling sea in her stomach. “Something chocolatey… Maybe some ice cream if there’s any.”
Gavin squeezed Rowan’s hand before standing. “As you wish, pumpkin.”
Rowan watched him leave before rolling onto her side, struggling to reach the remote on the table a few feet away. She wanted to get a movie started before he came back, before the inevitable fight over what to watch.
And was he really going to say no to his tired, pregnant wife if she already had something playing that she really wanted to watch?
But Rowan’s efforts were thwarted as Gavin returned, swiping the remote up and clutching it close to his chest.
“Nice try,” he teased, settling a box and a few plates and bowls on the table instead. “But I think just for that I should get to pick today’s movie.”
Rowan pouted, but Gavin was shaking his head, his gaze fixed on the television ahead. “You can’t convince me to change my mind if I’m not looking.”
“You don’t want to look at me? You don’t think I’m pretty?”
She didn’t have to see his face to see the gears whirring in his head, trying to come up with the best response that wouldn’t upset her too much.
Which she supposed was fair considering she had been sobbing earlier that morning over a muffin she’d wanted so badly she’d had a dream about it.
Gavin scratched at the back of his neck. “I think you’re too pretty. I think if I look at you I’ll change my mind.”
She rolled her eyes, reaching instead now for the bowl of ice cream melting in a little pink bowl on the table.
“Let me get that for you,” he said, clicking on a movie, the television screen blooming with colour as the opening credits began to play.
“I can get it,” she grunted. “I’m not broken.”
He took the bowl from the table and set it in her outstretched hands, grinning. “No, but you’re a little far from the table.”
“Well I couldn’t just stand up,” she muttered, leaning back against the couch. “Apparently I’ve been banned from walking.”
Gavin didn’t offer a reply, and she could see the way he was fighting against his laughter. Instead, he focused on arranging pillows on the floor, draping blankets over them until he’d built up a pile that resembled a nest.
“How’s that?” He asked, straightening to inspect his work.
“It looks like something Wisteria would make.”
Gavin arched a brow, his eyes flickering like a candle flame with confusion. “That could mean… A lot of things.”
“I think it looks very comfy,” Rowan said, setting her bowl down on the couch next to her. “Will you help me?”
There really wasn’t even a point in asking, Gavin already taking her hands, his other hand supporting her back as she shifted from the couch to the nest of blankets and pillows.
She sank against the soft blankets, groaning a little as she settled. Maybe she had overdone it a little today. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to argue with him.
Not that she was about to admit anything now. Not when it meant Gavin would be acting smug for the next week.
Rowan watched as Gavin took the box from the little side table and set it before them, crossing his legs on the carpet next to her.
It had been something like a tradition for years now, back when they had first moved in together. Gavin had been very sheepish about his hobby building Lego sets, but he’d come to her asking if they could build one together many Halloweens ago. She remembered the warmth in her heart, the buzz of the spiced drinks they’d shared, the laughter of children walking from their door after trick-or-treating. She remembered Gavin’s hands and the ring of his laugh and the comfort that had wrapped itself around her like an embrace.
So now they built one every year, although it had gotten increasingly difficult once they’d had the girls. But they’d found ways, had eked out scraps of moments late in the night to spend together.
Rowan’s eyes still felt heavy, although she did her best to shake it off. Maybe she could have a small coffee, to keep herself awake. She didn’t want to lose this time with Gavin, didn’t want to fade into unconsciousness when she had been looking forward to this night for over a week now.
She did her best to focus, to force her eyes open as she slid the box towards her. The loose pieces clattered together, a discordant melody jangling through the room. Her shoulders hunched from the sound, worried it would wake the girls, but the clamour was drowned out by the soft music of the movie Gavin had turned on.
She sighed, drawing the box into her lap to look it over.
“A typewriter!” She exclaimed, digging her fingers into the cardboard to wrench the box open. “Can you type with it?”
Gavin shook his head, scooting closer. He craned his neck to peer at writing on the side. “I don’t think you can use it to type, but the keys are functional.”
She shrugged, tipping the box over and dumping it over one of her blankets, muffling the sound of the little bags of pieces colliding as they tumbled to the floor. “At least the keys actually click! This is so exciting!”
Gavin took the empty box from Rowan before taking her hand, squeezing it gently. “Are you sure? If you’re tired we can-”
“Gavin,” she hushed him with a quiet murmur of his name. She cupped his cheek, holding his gaze steady. “Babey, I love you. I’ve been looking forward to this for days.”
His cheeks were stained, as they so often were when they started a new lego set, like they were still young and their relationship was new and they were only just unwrapping the hidden layers in each of their hearts. He always looked a little like the first time he’d admitted he liked building them, his eyes a little brighter, reminding her of warm afternoon sunshine, his cheeks crimson as silken rose petals unfurling in the dawn.
So Rowan did what she always did, grasping his face with both hands now and pressing a kiss to the edge of his mouth, to the curve of his jaw, to the corner of his eye.
“I love spending time with you, and doing things like this with you,” she breathed, resting her brow against his.
Gavin hummed, and she could feel his eyes falling closed as his lashes tickled her cheeks. His hands circled her wrists, and she could feel the flutter of his pulse against her arm.
They stayed like that for a few moments, warm and comfortable, pressed against each other while swathed in the soft blankets and pillows of the nest. Rowan’s mind began to wander, the edges of the world softening, turning hazy. She felt like she was being buoyed on a gently rolling sea. Or perhaps she was on a soft cloud, hovering above the earth, Gavin keeping her safe beside him.
“Pumpkin,” she could hear Gavin’s voice, but distantly, as if it was veiled.
“Rowan,” he tried again, and she smiled as she heard the laughter in his own voice. She was so happy she could make him smile, could make him laugh. She wanted to bring a little piece of happiness into his life for the rest of their days.
His lips were against hers, and only then did she force her eyes to open, her mind struggling to keep up with the world coming into focus around her.
Gavin was smiling, softly, although she was sure the smugness would come later, when she was more alert and a better target for teasing.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to bed?” He asked, stroking her hair. “We can go to bed now if you want, work on this another day.”
“But we always build them on Halloween,” she whined, peeling away, her body as heavy as lead.
Gavin sighed, his hands falling away. “What am I going to do with you?”
“At this point?” She asked, yawning before she continued. “I hope love me for forever, and hold my hand when I’m sad, and tell me I’m pretty even when I’m not.”
“Well that’s one thing I can’t do,” he said, beginning to sort through the lego pieces.
“What do you mean?”
“You said to tell you that you’re pretty even when you’re not. But you’re always beautiful to me.”
She raised a brow, flicking her gaze down over her body. “Even right now?”
He leaned forward, his breath warm against her skin as he kissed the side of her neck. “Especially right now.”
She shoved at his chest, turning away to stare at the TV, at the movie she hadn’t paid any attention to thus far. “We should probably try to actually build this.”
Gavin snickered, kissing her cheek once more before he pulled away, plucking the instruction manual from the floor. “As you wish, pumpkin.”
Her stomach finally calmed itself as they began piecing together the set, her focus shifting from whether she was going to throw up to piecing little plastic bits the size of her pinky nail together. She snacked on the food Gavin had brought, delighted every time she picked up a new treat, tasting chocolate and sugary icing and cake. The movie droned on in front of them, although Rowan found it did not grab at her attention until the very end, the tension sloughing away after the climax.
She felt a little confused, too, wondering why Gavin had chosen this movie. It was a mystery, but it was a little too similar to a police procedural, nothing like what he usually chose to watch.
“Can we watch Enchanted next?” She asked, searching for a piece she needed.
“Not a fan?” He asked, gesturing with his chin to the screen.
“I mean honestly I wasn’t paying that much attention,” she said, watching as police dragged the criminal away. “Why’d you choose this one? I thought you didn’t like movies that reminded you of work.”
He shrugged, but there was no way Rowan was missing the unmistakable scarlet on the tips of his ears.
“I just wanted to play something so there was noise,” he said, casting his eyes away. “I wasn’t really paying attention, I just wanted to start building this set together.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, smiling. “Babey, you really are the sweetest, did you know that?”
He narrowed his eyes, finally looking back at her. “I think that fits you best, pumpkin.”
She laughed, swiping the remote from the floor. “Well I think you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.”
His brows drew together and he busied himself with sorting through the loose pieces, the red in his cheeks and on his ears growing deeper, the burning red of a sunset sky set alight. But she could see the smile at the corners of his lips, could see the way his eyes brightened.
She ended the movie, quickly flicking through the different titles before finally selecting Enchanted, beaming as the opening music swelled.
“There we go,” she sang. “This will be perfect!”
As it happened the choice was not perfect, although Rowan couldn’t have known that. She was so engrossed in the satisfying click of the lego pieces and working in tandem with Gavin that she didn’t hear the door opening or the little footsteps on the floor until Aurora was all but a foot from Rowan and Gavin.
“You’re watching Enchanted?” She cried, her eyes wide, looking aghast.
“What are doing up, sweet potato?” Gavin asked, getting to his feet.
Aurora sniffled. “I had a bad dream, and then I heards the songs!”
“Oh my baby,” Rowan struggled to her feet, moving to scoop Aurora into her arms. “My baby it’s okay.”
“It was so scawy,” Aurora whimpered, clutching at Rowan’s clothes. “I was being chased!”
“Well you’re safe now, you’re safe.”
“Don’t make me go back to bed,” she cried, burying her face against Rowan’s neck. “Pwease, mama.”
How was she supposed to say no to that? There was no way that she could, not when Aurora was nearly in hysterics.
“You can sit with us for a while,” she murmured, smoothing back Aurora’s hair. “I’ll hold you tight, okay?”
Rowan turned, trying to figure out how she was going to get back into her little floor nest, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Wisteria nestled in it instead.
“Hi mama!”
“What are you doing up?” Gavin asked, scooping Wisteria up as she beamed at them. He narrowed his eyes, assessing the chocolate stain on her cheek. “Never mind, I know exactly what you were doing.”
Wisteria giggled, stretching her arms up. “No bed for me too! I wanna stay up!”
“You need to go to bed,” Gavin chided. “It’s very late.”
“No!” She wailed, although unlike Aurora she was still beaming like a very tiny maniac. “No bed!”
A muscle twitched in Gavin’s jaw, his brows drawing very very low as he frowned at his second daughter.
“Whatcha doing anyways?” Wisteria chirped, completely unfazed. “Can I helps?”
Rowan bit back a laugh, knowing full well Wisteria would certainly make the project more difficult to complete.
She was more of a ‘hide all the pieces and lie about where they are’ type of kid than a ‘build a lego set in one sitting’ kid.
“Are the twins awake?” Rowan asked, concern gnawing at her mind. The absolute last thing she wanted was for the twins to be running around awake, too.
Overtired babies were a recipe for a disastrous day.
“I’ll go check,” Gavin said, setting Wisteria down on the couch.
Rowan had managed to lower herself back into her blanket nest by the time Gavin returned, Aurora now wide awake, her gaze fixed on the TV.
“It looks like they’re asleep,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he sat down. “Thank god.”
The question remained, however, what did they do with the other two? Rowan was loath to try and put Aurora back to bed, in case it triggered a tantrum, but what about Wisteria?
“I suppose,” Gavin ground out, looking more than a little reluctant as he again dragged his hand through his hair. “That the older two can stay up for the time being.”
Rowan nodded, rubbing Aurora’s arm as she snuggled into some of the blankets. “How’s that sound?”
Aurora nodded, silent as a mouse.
Wisteria for her part tried to cheer very, very loudly, but Gavin scooped her up and dropped her into his lap, hushing her before she could break any eardrums.
“You have to be quiet though, baked potato,” he whispered, putting a finger to his mouth. “So we don’t wake up the twins.”
Wisteria huffed, but seemed inclined to listen, especially since it meant she got to stay up well past her bedtime.
Both Rowan and Gavin tried to return to their lego set, although the task became more than a little difficult with Wisteria asking what every piece did every few moments, and with Aurora needing comfort every few moments when she began to nod off, terrified she would find herself in her nightmare once more.
Enchanted ended and they chose another movie, a kid friendly halloween movie that both girls were delighted to watch. Rowan’s eyes grew heavier and heavier, her focus waning as exhaustion crept over her.
Beside her, Aurora was beginning to doze, her little head cushioned by the soft orange blanket they’d only purchased a few days ago, the one she had dubbed her new favourite.
On the couch behind her, Wisteria was beginning to snore, muttering something unintelligible in between loud snorts.
She covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing as Wisteria snored, the sound becoming utterly hysterical in the shadows of the night.
The typewriter lay half finished on the floor, the storm was still raging outside, rain pelting like daggers against the window. There was nothing left of the snacks but a few stray crumbs stuck to Aurora’s cheeks and Wisteria’s hands, and somehow Wisteria’s snoring was so hilarious that Rowan felt like she might dissolve into a fit of laughter at any moment.
“What’s so funny?” Gavin whispered, sliding up beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist.
Rowan’s eyes bugged and it took all of her remaining strength to speak. “Her snores.”
Gavin chuckled, glancing back at their daughter. “She snores louder than some of the guys I’ve worked with on missions.”
Somehow that statement was even more absurd than the snoring, and Rowan’s shoulder began to shake from the effort of not letting herself laugh.
Gavin snorted, pulling her against his chest. He looked a little sleepy too, and he smelled warm and clean, like fresh laundry drying in the breeze. His warmth was comforting, and Rowan could feel herself calming down, if only a little.
“Why don’t we watch the movie for a minute,” he murmured, leaning back against the blankets and the cushions. “I feel a little tired, and I’d like to hold you for a while.”
Rowan could find no reason to argue, no reason to deny being held in her husband’s arms. She let him gather her against his chest, let him tuck her head beneath his chin. Let herself settle against him, let herself hear the beat of his heart, feel his breath tangle in her hair.
“Do you really want to watch Halloweentown?” She asked, fighting back a yawn.
Gavin stroked her hair quietly, like he was deep in thought. Part of her wondered if he’d fallen asleep.
“Well this is the movie we’d watched the first time we’d built one of these sets,” he said at last, nearly startling her from her calm. “Do you remember?”
She did remember. She remembered the warmth of his lips against her skin and the ring of the doorbell and the bubbles that slipped through her veins as she poured herself another mug of spiced wine. She remembered that first set they’d put together, a rocket ship to go along with the international space station set he’d already completed.
And she remembered the movie, too, the first in a slew of movies they played until they’d fallen asleep on top of each other on the couch, clutched in each other’s arms until the watery, grey light of dawn roused them.
“I do,” she murmured, reaching up to cover his hand with hers. “I remember how happy I was to be with you. To share such a nice night with you.”
“And are you happy now?” He asked, his voice so quiet now she almost didn’t hear him.
“I am,” she murmured, nestling closer, her eyes almost too heavy to keep open. “I’m so happy.”
“I am too,” he breathed.
She felt his arms moving, felt something soft being tucked around her, although she could not see it. It took Rowan a few moments to realize her eyes weren’t open, which explained why she couldn’t see what was happening. It took her another few moments to realize that it was a blanket, one of the fluffy ones they usually reserved for early winter, when the air grew bitter and stung their lungs with every breath.
“I’m so happy to be with you,” he said. “To hold you in my arms.”
“It’s probably not easy,” she mumbled, her mind betraying her, drawing her towards the shadowed sea of unconsciousness. “Since I’m already huge.”
“I think it’s still easy to hold you,” he murmured. “It’s simple, it’s like breathing.”
She huffed, the closest thing she could get to a laugh now. She might have told him he was silly, that he was a dork, but she wasn’t sure, she couldn’t seem to get her mouth to move.
Although Gavin did laugh, his arms tightening around her, so she was pretty sure she’d said it, she was pretty sure the words had danced through the air, kindling to his laughter.
“Will you still be happy if we don’t finish the typewriter tonight?”
She heard his question, although she didn’t fully process it. He was so warm, and all she could hear was the word ‘happy’ and all she could think of was how happy she was, how warm she was. She’d spent the day with her family, had helped her girls get into their halloween costumes and held their hands when they’d trick-or-treated. And now she was cuddled with her husband, with her beloved Gavin.
“Of course,” she murmured.
Because of course. Of course she was happy.
She felt Gavin’s lips against the top of her head, felt the rumble of his voice, felt his words tangle in her hair.And then sleep wrapped itself around her, like an embrace, drawing her beneath the gentle waves of sleep. And although the lego set hadn’t been finished, like she had hoped, she would be happy when she awoke. Because it would be to Gavin’s smiling face and his gentle “good morning, beautiful.” And when they were more awake, when they had shaken the dregs of sleep away, they would continue their tradition of finishing the lego set, and she would be happier still, to get to share more precious moments with him.
With so much on her mind, how was she supposed to sleep? Everyday chores and her day jobs aside, there was still the matter of Xavier's curse, leaving little time for her to rest. But Xavier thinks differently, and he knows exactly what to do to persuade her to rest.
Pairing: Xavier x MC
Tags: Fluff, established relationship, yes cat caretaker event
Notes: If I'm honest Xavier's "kitty" design was my favourite, I loooove ragdoll kitties they're so cute and fluffy. Anyways, here's a fluffy Xavier who I think needs some cuddles too! <3
The sizzling of butter and onions frying was a melody, the savoury smell pairing like a harmony as it wafted through the apartment. But even such music could not keep her mind from drifting off.
Her eyes were heavy as lead, and it was a battle to open them each time they slid shut. Her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and she swayed from side-to-side, unable to keep herself balanced, like she was slowly drifting away on ocean waves.
The wooden spoon she held nearly slipped from her grasp, splattering melted butter and half-fried onion slices all over the floor.
“Get a grip,” she muttered, tightening her hold on the handle. There was so much she still needed to do, she couldn’t afford to fall asleep.
But the kitchen was too quiet, and the heat from the stove was draining the last of her energy away. She was melting wax, slowly losing the strength to stay upright and pooling on the floor below.
Maybe she just needed a distraction. Maybe if she just had someone to talk to, or help her with a few chores, she would be able to rouse herself.
Just as quickly as the idea came to her, though, she winced. There was really only one person she wanted to see right now, but that could lead to disaster. Xavier was always so calm, and warmth radiated from him like the light forever spilling from a star. All it would take was one look at him and the last of her resolve would crumple.
She had all the strength of a wet piece of paper when it came to him, and she would want to fall into his arms the moment he walked in. He would probably open his arms to her, and the slow pulse of his heart and the softness of whatever sweater or cardigan he was wearing and the surety of his arms would make her forget about everything she still had to do.
And of course there was the other disaster that could happen. Maybe he wouldn’t try and coax her to rest, maybe instead he would try to help her cook, and set the entire kitchen on fire in the process.
Still, she tentatively called out to him, deciding the risks were worth it, and did she even care if the food burned at this point?
“Xavier?”
She was greeted with silence, only the sizzle and pop of the butter in the frying pan echoing in the air.
She tried again, a little louder this time. “Xavier?”
Usually he would have responded by now, and ever since he’d been cursed his hearing had only gotten keener. He’d been able to hear her from across a busy store when they’d gone out for groceries a few days ago, ears twitching from catching the sound of her voice and a sly smile on his lips as he dumped an armload of family-value packages of meat into the shopping cart.
Confused, she turned off the stove and moved the pan off the heat. Hadn’t he just been up, flipping through his comic books trying to decide if he wanted to read something or play the new video game she’d gotten him?
“Baby?” She padded from the kitchen, searching for her wayward boyfriend.
She did not have to search far, finding him curled up on the couch, fluffy cat tail draped over his stomach like a blanket.
“Ah.” She allowed herself a rueful smile. She should have known he would be asleep, especially after such a long day.
She might have been working two different jobs and trying to figure out how to lift the curse, but Xavier was the one who was actually cursed. His fluffy tail and silken ears weren’t the only testament to his curse, his behaviour seeming more and more feline with every passing day.
The cat naps growing more and more frequent than they had even before he’d been cursed. His sudden cravings for fish. The way he watched birds a little too closely out the window.
She was starting to worry that she would wake up one day to see a fluffy white cat in place of her boyfriend.
Sighing, she brushed his bangs back from his brow, feeling the feathery-softness of the strands against her skin. He always acted so calm and relaxed, but still she worried. It was hard to read the feelings hidden behind the azure of his eyes. Always so still and calm as a quiet lake touched by starlight, but what did he hide in the shadows where the light did not touch?
She didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to be selfish and rouse him when he was tired. Instead, she unfolded the pink polkadot blanket draped over the back of the couch, carefully tucking it around him to keep him warm.
“I hope you’re dreaming of catnip and fish,” she breathed, smiling as he sighed in his sleep. “Rest well, love.”
Heading back to the kitchen, she tried to resolve herself. She needed to focus, she needed to be strong. She needed to stay awake long enough to finish cooking their dinner. Then there was the laundry, and she needed to book grooming appointments for all of the cats at the café, and-
She had only just taken up the wooden spoon again, flicking on the stove to resume cooking, the butter already congealing in the pan. Her mind strayed from all the tasks she needed to do, wondering instead whether pan-fried beef was too ambitious, if something as simple as grilled cheese would be enough. She could still use the onions, and add them with a little ham into the sandwiches, and didn’t they have some fancy cheese left from the market they’d been to before this whole fiasco had started-
Her entire train of thought was derailed as arms came around her waist, a warm head falling against her shoulder.
“Ah!” It was instinct more than anything, shrieking as she dropped the wooden spoon with a clatter on the floor.
“It’s just me,” Xavier said, his words little more than a sigh.
She did her best to turn in his arms to face him, but his hold was like iron, and all she could manage was a twist of her head so her words were murmured against the top of his head as he nuzzled his face into her neck. “What’s going on, baby? I thought you were sleeping?”
“I was hoping you’d come lie down with me,” he mumbled. He spoke so slowly, his voice thick with sleep. She wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep on her while he was still standing.
She drew back, surprise like a static shock. “You were faking?”
“Well…” She could feel his bashful smile against her skin. “I was half-asleep, but I thought you’d come lie down with me.”
“Oh baby, I wish I could,” she sighed. And she really did wish she could. Taking a nap with him sounded heavenly, but there was so much to do. She needed to stay awake.
“Then come with me.” He rubbed his face against the side of her neck, running his nose down over her shoulder. “I sleep better when I’m with you.”
He spoke with such softness, his words like sun-warmed honey. She could feel them dancing in her mind, feel their sunshine in her veins.
“I have so many things I need to do,” she argued. But it was a tepid riposte at best. She didn’t want to cook or do the chores. She only wanted to melt into his arms and forget about everything for a little while.
He hummed, his arms tightening around her. She felt his fingers twisting into the fabric of her shirt at her sides, felt the feathery softness of his ears tickling her cheek as they twitched. “What kind of things?”
The corners of her lips trembled; his words buzzed against her skin, making her bite back bubbling giggles. Distantly, she wondered if he knew, if he was doing it on purpose to tease her.
“I have to make dinner,” she said. She breathed deep, trying to keep her focus. “And I have to do laundry, and I have to make grooming appointments for the cats. And we’re almost out of the chicken wet food so I need to order more of that, and the bathroom needs to be cleaned.”
Just to name a few. She shook her head, wilting. She felt like a wildflower in a drought, withering into a husk beneath unrelenting heat. “There’s just so much.”
And she didn’t want to ask him to help, didn’t want to burden him. He had been cursed, he didn’t need to clean the toilet, too.
But Xavier grumbled in displeasure. He lifted his head, and she caught his frown from the corner of her eye, a pursing of his lips that looked an awful lot like a pout and a wrinkling of his nose as his brows drew together.
“We can do those things tomorrow together,” he murmured. He spoke soft as a lullaby, even as he argued with her. “You don’t need to do everything on your own.”
“Xavier-”
“Please?” He nuzzled his nose against her jaw, his breath warm as it feathered over her skin. “Lie down with me now, and we can handle everything else tomorrow.”
“What about dinner? We can’t handle that tomorrow.” Her voice squeaked as she scrabbled at her self-control.
He chuckled, rubbing his nose along the line of her jaw. “Easy. We can order something for when we wake up.”
“But what about the laundry, and the kitties, and the cleaning, and-”
“-And it can wait.” His lips grazed over her skin now, and she felt the scrape of his teeth as he brought his mouth over her neck again.
She whined wordlessly, staring down at the uncooked butter and onions, what was quickly becoming a fruitless endeavour. Gauzy-winged butterflies fluttered through her chest, her own heart stumbling like a toddler learning to walk.
“Please, my darling?”
She could feel her resolve crumbling away as Xavier plied her with his soft words. She was about as strong as an overbaked cookie, falling apart at the slightest touch.
When she did not truly respond, Xavier only nestled closer. She felt him sigh, the heave of his chest, the tickle of his breath warming her skin. The heart continued to trip and stumble, faster now, beating as wildly as hummingbird wings, and she wondered if he could feel it as he held her.
Something soft brushed against her side, and she looked down to see his fluffy tail wrapped around her waist, holding her all the closer.
“I’ll let you pet my tail,” he breathed, a playful lilt in his voice.
“Xav-”
A pleasant rumbling sounded from behind her, reverberating into the hollows of her bones. It caught her so off-guard she stopped talking, her argument dying on her tongue.
The feeling continued to vibrate through her, a warmth like the first touch of sunshine in the dawn sky staining her heart. It was soothing, and her mind drifted all too easily as his purrs enveloped her.
“Xavier,” she started, doing her best to force ire into her tone. “Are you manipulating me?”
“No I’m not.”
But his smile gave him away, curving up like a crescent moon against her skin.
It was the final straw; she couldn’t find a reason to argue any longer, to hold out against him when he was so warm and comfy and now he was purring just from holding her.
“Fine,” she grumbled, sagging back against his chest. “You win. I’ll lie down with you.”
His smile hiked higher, and in one swift movement he swept her up into his arms like a princess, dropping a chaste kiss to her brow.
“I’m glad you’ve finally seen reason,” he teased, mischief in his eyes. “Now we can both rest.”
She wanted to argue, but the last of her energy was quickly falling away. All she managed was an eyeroll, but she wasn’t sure Xavier even noticed as he carted her back to the living room, too distracted by his delight at his impending nap.
“There,” he said, settling himself on the couch, nestling her on his chest. “That’s much better.”
“Well… Almost…” She smiled up at him as he draped his arms around her sides, his eyes falling shut. “But didn’t you promise you’d let me pet your tail?”
Now he was the one rolling his eyes, but he indulged her, his tail curling around her. She ran her fingers through the soft fur, finally letting herself relax. “Now that’s better.”
Xavier chuckled, pulling the blanket over them both. “I’m glad I was able to convince you.”
Already she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open, the steady beating of his heart and the gentle way he cradled her against his chest making sleep come for her all the faster. She cuddled his tail like it was a plushie, resting her cheek over where his heart thrummed. Feeling safe, content.
Everything would be alright. They would handle all the worries that had been plaguing her together.
She gave him a sleepy smile, stretching her neck up to brush a kiss to his jaw. “I’m glad you convinced me, too.”
Her eyes were already closed when she settled her head back on his chest, but she could picture the smile that curved across his lips as he began purring again. And it was that gentle reverberation, and the thought of his starlit smile, that followed after her as she slipped into oblivion.
Being a cat was hard work. And after a long day of hard work every cat deserved to be spoiled with attention, which is exactly what Sylus expects from his girlfriend and caretaker
Pairing: Sylus x MC
Tags: Fluff, established relationship, yes cat caretaker event
Notes: And who would have thought my SECOND Sylus fic would be a cat one too? Guys I'm on a roll here and he's slowly invading my brain. I promise the next Sylus fic will not be him as a cursed cat BUT in the meantime please enjoy clingy cat Sylus <3 He seems like he's perfect for cuddles (also first appearance of my OC who's Sylus' partner, Ivy. More to come in the future <3 )
Life was so incredibly hard when you were a cat.
Having to spend all your waking hours getting into mischief; shoving the phone from your partner’s hand and trying to snatch birds from the air.
Begrudgingly beginning to care for all of the kitties at the café, spoiling them with fancy toys and expensive treats and scratching behind their ears when they bump their heads against your leg.
Struggling to get attention from your partner without telling them you want attention. Smacking them with your tail as you walk past, or willingly standing in the pouring rain so they’ll dry your ears and tail with a towel and brush out the knots in your fur.
Trying to find the comfiest spot to nap during the day, your bed no longer the perfect place to rest. Now it was piles of clean laundry and the corners of couches.
And after a long, hard day of being a cat, you deserved to be spoiled. To have your ears scratched and to be held gently by the person you cared for the most.
At least, that was what Ivy told herself as she ran her fingers through Sylus’ hair. He’d been a menace all day while she had worked herself to the bone, and the fantasy that not only was she his girlfriend, but someone incredibly precious to him was her only consolation after an exhausting day.
Well, that and his comforting weight as he snuggled against her chest.
“It’s just so hard being a kitty, isn’t it?” Ivy cooed, narrowly dodging the swat of Sylus’ tail. “Playing with the other kitties and taking naps all day and getting up to all sorts of shenanigans.”
Sylus lifted his head just enough for his gaze to meet hers, the corners of his eyes narrowing as his brows drew low. He was scowling, but with his big fluffy ears and how he had sprawled himself out over her and nestled his face against her chest, she couldn’t find even a scrap of fear. Especially not when his tail gave the slightest flick, the tip curled like a question mark.
“Aw, my poor big kitty.” She scratched behind his ears and his expression softened despite her teasing words. “You’ve had such a hard day.”
He hummed, nuzzling her hand gently when she tried resting it against his cheek. “I’ve worked very hard, my lady. I’ve earned a reward.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to try and stifle the smile curling on her lips. ‘My lady,’ like they were characters in a period drama. Like she could be a princess and he her rogue knight. Like she could be something so precious in his eyes.
He gave her a languid smile, blinking slowly as his tail gave another flick. “I think you’re enjoying this as much as I am, my lady.”
He was saying it to tease her, without question, but she didn’t mind. He looked so content, and she felt so comfy with his warmth seeping into her bones and his soft hair between her fingers. He was draped across her like a weighted blanket, and it was more soothing than she would admit aloud. Even if she hadn’t been attending to magical cats all day long this would have been enough to lull her into serenity.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, keeping her voice measured and soft. His grin was enough to send her into a fit of fluttering giggles, wingbeats of laughter flittering in the air like hummingbirds darting between silken flower petals. But she had to control herself. Or at least try and control herself.
It lasted for all of one minute. At the most. When he was near she could not seem to contain her mirth, and laughter bubbled like the golden sparkle of champagne. Even when he was being utterly infuriating, she could only liken the feeling to being light as gauze, to feeling silly and free and breathless. It made her smile, made her laugh. And when he smiled as his eyes alit on her, she could only smile wider, pleased with whatever joy she had given him.
Maybe she was a fool, but maybe he was too.
“You might be enjoying this too much.” But his eyes sparkled, delight clear as the shimmer in their ruby depths. She didn’t need the flick of his tail or the twitch of his ears to tell her he was enjoying himself. “This is supposed to be about me, my lady.”
“And I can’t enjoy taking care of you?” She was smiling too wide now. Mischief danced on nimble toes, following the rhythm of her heart’s beat.
Sylus grinned, cocking his head to the side like he was examining a bird. “Clearly I’m not the only cat up to mischief.”
“Oh hush.” She gave his cheek a playful pinch, and his brows rose as if in challenge. “Maybe I’ll just stop cuddling you. I have to get up and clean myself up anyways.”
She pulled her hand away, pressing down on the sides of the couch cushion to lift herself up as she feigned getting up. Lightning fast, Sylus’ tail wrapped around her wrist, yanking it forward so she lost her balance and tumbled back.
“Excuse me?” His eyes seemed brighter, his ivory brows drawn low. The lines of his face seemed sharper, more severe, his steely glare a stark contrast to how he had snuggled his face against her chest.
Ivy bit back another giggle, and she caught the flicker of his expression, no more than the flit of a gauzy butterfly wing. A twitch at the corners of his lips, a fracture in his ire.
It made her smile a little wider, that crack in his facade. She wanted to push a little further, and she felt dizzy with silliness as she tried to goad him. “I’m trying to get up. I’ve had a long day and I need to shower and get something to eat.”
“Oh I don’t think so.” He readjusted, somehow putting more of his weight on her than he had before. She felt like she was being smushed into the couch, flat as a pancake as he settled. She supposed that was the cat part of him now, always finding a new way to distribute his weight as uncomfortably as possible when he was being annoying.
“You’re still my caretaker, too. Which means you have to take care of me.”
“And what exactly does that entail, my sweet kitty?” Mirth was soapy bubbles dancing in sunlight, laughter chasing after each pop.
His brow arched at the teasing name, but the harshness of his scowl melted away, leaving only a playful smirk behind. His tail was still wrapped around her wrist, and he dragged it forward until her palm was settled on the top of his head.
“You can start with this.”
Ivy rubbed his head slowly, scratching gently behind his ears like she had been earlier. “Like this?”
His eyelids drooped, his tail uncurling from her wrist to sway gently like wildflowers dancing in a breeze. “Mmmhmmm.”
His head lowered, the heat of his breath seeping through her shirt and into her skin. As she traced her other hand over his back she could feel his muscles untangling, the remaining tension he had been carrying with him slipping away like beads tumbling from a broken chain.
“You’re an awfully demanding kitty,” she mused. She slid her hand up, playing with the feathersoft baby hairs at the nape of his neck. “I’ve been petting you for a while and it’s still not enough.”
“Just be patient, kitten.” His voice came out muffled, the lilt of his laughter nearly lost in the fabric of her shirt. “I’ll take care of you soon, but I need to recharge right now.”
“Oh? And how will you take care of me?” She threaded her fingers in his hair, pressing the palm of her other hand against his shoulder blades and rubbing slow circles into his skin.
He hummed, and it felt almost like a chuckle. “How else do you take care of a troublesome kitten?”
She snorted. “If you’re going to try and give me fish treats I’ll pass.”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something else, then.”
Ivy snorted, giving his side a quick pinch. “Take your time recharging. You’re going to need it if that was the best idea you’d had.”
Sylus nestled closer, laughter echoing through the hollows of her bones and across the rivers of her veins and the lightning in her nerves. She could feel his smile even through her shirt, and the arms he had wrapped around her seemed to tighten along with his growing contentment.
She continued to run her fingers through his hair, pausing only to scratch around his ears, or trail both hands up and down his back. The even rhythm of his breathing lulled her, softening the edges of her thoughts to something fuzzy and gold. He was so warm, the strength in his arms steady, his weight a comfort against her.
Drowsiness draped itself over her like a second cat, lured by Sylus’ embrace and the solace his closeness gave. She couldn’t even imagine joking about getting up now, couldn’t imagine getting up at all. She was too comfortable, too content, with her big fiendish kitty holding her close.
The cherry on top was when a pleasant rumble began reverberating through his chest, its echo filling the hollows of her bones.
Purring.
He was purring.
Pressing a hand to her mouth, Ivy struggled to stifle her smile. He was so content he was purring.
No. Not just content. He was happy. Sylus was happy.
In her heart there was sunshine cresting the horizon at dawn, staining the sky in the blushing pink of flushed cheeks, in the deep red of cherry-stained fingers, in the soft violet of blooming flowers. It was warm, and fuzzy, and bright. It was the morning and all the hope and excitement that first touch of gold would bring.
It was something so small, and yet it felt so precious to her, that she had made him happy. That he felt content and safe lying here with her.
“I know you’re smiling, kitten.” The soft cadence of his voice stirred her from her reverie, her heartbeat jumping as she returned to the present.
He lifted his head, and she saw that his eyes were still lidded, heavy with sleep. His hair was mussed, from her dragging her fingers through it, from nuzzling against her while he got comfy. The smile he gave her was equal parts sweet and sleepy and teasing, like he had a joke on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t remember it as he waded through his dreams.
“What’s made you so happy?” He spoke with a low tenor, rough as sandpaper at the edges from the sleep he teetered at the precipice of.
“I was just thinking…” She trailed off, skating her fingertips over the edge of his soft ears. They twitched, but he only arched his brow, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards like a lopsided crescent moon.
“Really?”
Ivy rolled her eyes, giving his ear a light tug.
“Easy,” but he was laughing, batting her hand away. “They’re sensitive.”
She stuck out her bottom lip. “You were being mean.”
“Apologies, my lady.” The wicked curve of his smile told her that he wasn’t sorry at all. “Tell me. What were you thinking about?”
She lifted her chin, flicking her eyes to the wall behind his head so she did not have to look at him. “Maybe I don’t want to tell you anymore.”
“Hmm…” His gaze was quickly growing keener, sharp as a predator. “And what if I want to hear it?”
“Maybe you should have been nicer!”
“Aren’t I being nice right now?”
She huffed. “I don’t know if I would call this nice.”
“Well what about now?” He asked, stroking her side gently. “Is this nice?”
Ivy pursed her lips, but did not respond.
“What about now?” He nuzzled his head into her palm, his lips skimming over the inside of her arm in a featherlight kiss.
Whatever resolve she’d had crumbled like over-baked cookies. He was surely trying to tease her, but this was nice. Being snuggled with him in the twilight between night and day, when for a little while it could just be them. He wasn’t the leader of Onichynus, and even with his cursed cat ears and tail he wasn’t really a cat either. He was just Sylus, and he had sought solace in her embrace as she so often did in his.
“Honestly?” She pushed his bangs back from his brow, warmth fizzing against her fingertips as she brushed them against his skin.
He watched her curiously, his head cocking to the side. Her gut instinct was to look away, but she wanted him to know she was sincere, even for something silly. He cared about holding her gaze when he was being honest, and she wanted to do the same for him.
“I hope this isn’t because of the curse,” she gave a little wave, gesturing to how he had draped himself over her. “I hope you’ll still want this when the curse is finally lifted.”
Sylus arched a brow, a flicker of mischief in the sharp curve of his lips. “And what is ‘this,’ kitten?”
“It’s…” She ground her teeth together; oh he was so infuriating. He was going to make her say it in precise detail.
“Yes? Use your words, sweetie.”
Her face burned as furious as a wildfire. “That you’ll still want to be close, and you’ll want to cuddle with me like this and let me play with your hair…”
Her words trailed off into a quiet whisper, her face so hot she felt like her skin was a riot of flame and heat. She anticipated a snort, a quirk of his lips, the light touching the sharp points of his teeth as he laughed.
No laughter came, no teasing chuckles that sent a flurry of embers through her belly as her entire body caught flame. Instead, she watched as his smile softened, turning into something gentle as the touch of quicksilver moonlight that turned the darkness of night gauzy and holy.
He moved with a feline grace, leaning over her so she could feel the tips of his bangs tickling her brow. His breath fanned over her lips, so close, like he was on the verge of kissing her.
“Sylus?” This response was not what she had expected.
Now he did chuckle, but there was no teasing lilt in his voice, no sharp glint in his eyes. He was still soft, his eyes a candle-flame of warmth. His hand searched for hers, fingers intertwining as he drew it to his lips.
His eyes, red as rubies glowing with moonbeams, held her gaze fast. He brushed a kiss to the back of her hand, and she could feel the bloom of his smile against her skin. The warm rumbling from before returned, the reverberations of his content purrs spreading like sunshine across the sky.
“You’ve spoiled me, kitten.” His words tickled her skin, and soft giggles bubbled from her lips. He smiled wider, kissing the backs of her fingers before continuing. “I’ve gotten so used to your devoted attention, I don’t think I’ll be able to go a single day without it anymore.”
The ruby of his eyes darkened. He watched her keenly over their clasped hands, both devilry and earnestness at war in the spilled-wine red of his eyes. Another kiss, little more than a phantom touch of his lips to her skin, and yet it made her whole body tingle like static shock.
Ivy’s chest felt tight, like she could not draw breath, like her heart no longer fit. She wanted to hold him closer, wanted to hold him so tightly and never let him go. That would surely ease the ache in her heart, would stop the splintering of her ribs.
Instead she reached with her free hand to brush back his hair, fingers lingering against his cheek.
“Then I’ll look forward to spoiling you every day.”
His eyes widened, bright as starlight. Then he lowered her hand, cupping her cheek as he leaned closer. She could feel the flutter of his lashes against her skin, feel the reverberations of his words against her lips. She smiled as he kissed her, tangling her free hand in his soft hair to hold him close.
Curses should not have been all fun and games, and yet the cat curse afflicting Sylus was more delightful than she wanted to admit out loud. So delightful that she couldn't help taking as many pictures as she could to remember it, capturing snapshots of all of his cutest moments. Until he catches her.
Pairing: Sylus x MC
Tags: Fluff, established relationship, yes cat caretaker event
Notes: Who would have thought my first ever Sylus fic would be related to the most recent event! In my defence his ears look soft and I'm only a woman
“What did you just do?”
She scurried backwards as a furry tail whipped towards her, nearly knocking her phone from her hand as the flash flared.
“Hey! You just ruined my picture.” Stars flickered at the corners of her vision as she tucked her phone against her heart, away from the snap of Sylus’ tail.
She pouted, scowling at him. It was an effort to keep up the expression, his soft ears twitching as he tried staring her down, his tail swaying like it might launch another attack. “You ruined my picture! It’s going to be all blurry now.”
Ever since he’d been cursed, Sylus had been acting different. He was still himself, without question, but there were tiny shifts that she never would have noticed if she hadn’t already known him. He was sleeping more, tucking himself into odd corners and spaces where he would usually sprawl out. He still roused at night, but often not until the sun had fully set and a chill clung to the air.
She would be shivering, wishing for a warm blanket and her mind already half-asleep, and he would be up, his vermillion eyes bright like starlight shimmering through rubies. She would be trying to lie down, to rest for just a little, and he would be rousing her. She would close her eyes for less than a few minutes, and he would be up, grumbling until she gave up on any hope of sleep.
She was pretty sure he had started making biscuits, too, although the look he had given her when she’d first seen it had been half-plea and half-warning not to pry. His tail flicking dangerously, his ears drooping just the tiniest bit. It was enough to make her heart ache, and so she had hurried away.
He’d become clingier too, which wasn’t something she’d thought was possible. There was almost always a text from him waiting on her phone, or he was calling her to ask about dinner plans, or he was at her door with her favourite takeout in one hand, the other waiting for her to take it, and let him steal her away into the night.
But now it was like he wanted to crawl into her skin, like he had become her second shadow. If he wasn’t asleep he was close at hand, toying with the ends of her hair or poking at her plate when she was eating or nestling up against her when he decided it was time for another nap.
She often found she was suppressing her giggles, delighted by these strange new quirks of his. She wanted to capture the memories of it all before the curse was lifted and he went back to pretending he didn’t like having his head rubbed.
Her phone’s camera was filled with photos of him staring out the window at birds flitting by. Curling up into tight balls in the corner of the couch while he napped. Eyes closed in rapture as she scratched his ears.
But it was not five minutes earlier that she’d been caught in the act, trying to sneak up behind him while he batted at the tassels hanging from the curtains in her living room. It had happened in less than a second. One minute she was lifting her phone, finger on the button. Then an ear twitch, a tilt of his head that had his eyes catching hers.
And now they were here, her photo ruined, his tail lashing out to catch her and drag her close. She barely had a moment to retreat further, hiding behind the couch. He wouldn’t be able to reach her unless he climbed over it, so she was safe.
For now.
Sylus frowned, arms crossed over his broad chest as he levelled a glare at her. “What did you just take a photo of, kitten?”
That was another thing. He had become much grouchier since waking up with cat ears and a tail. Scowling, almost on the verge of pouting some days, getting irritated when he didn’t get his way. She noticed it most when they went out together, and he had a scowl levelled at anyone who got too close to her. Or when she came back from work, and he glowered while dragging her into his arms, nose wrinkling until he was satisfied she only smelled like him.
“I didn’t take a photo of anything,” she grumbled, levelling a glare right back at him. “You interrupted me before I could!”
He cocked his head to the side, a predator sizing up its prey. It would have been unnerving if not for the twitch of his ears and tail, so soft and fluffy she wanted to reach out and run her fingers over them.
“And what were you trying to take a picture of, kitten?”
His query reeled her from her thoughts. She smirked, holding her phone a little tighter. “Shouldn’t you be the kitty now? You’re the one with the ears and tail.”
He hummed, his tail swaying. “I’m not the one who gets up to all kinds of mischief when someone’s back is turned, sweetie.”
Said the man who’d knocked over her lego flowers when she’d stopped rubbing his ears for five seconds.
“And you didn’t answer my question.” His brow arched, tail flicking faster from side-to-side. “What were you trying to take a picture of?”
“I was trying to take a picture of you,” she grumbled, giving him a pout. “You looked so cute.”
His brow arched higher. “And how many of those have you taken?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she huffed. She took another step back without thinking, her knuckles white from the grip on her phone. “You were cute and I want to remember it.”
“Why? Are you planning to leave me when the curse is finally lifted?”
“What?” She blinked. “No, not at all.”
His ears twitched. “Then delete the photos. You don’t need to remember me when I’m with you every day. I don’t intend on running off like a common house-cat would.”
“Weren’t you the one that said you’d betray me at any time?” Running away seemed like a type of betrayal.
He sighed, tilting his head back to peer at her with half-lidded eyes. “Maybe you’ve domesticated me.”
“Clearly not enough.”
A line formed between his brows as he closed his eyes. “Delete the photos.”
She took a step back, shaking her head. “No! I want to remember all your cute moments while you’re still a kitty.”
When his eyes opened she realized how much trouble she was in. The corners of his eyes narrowed, his lips slowly curling up into a feline grin. She tried to take another step away, her back colliding with the wall.
When had she backed up so far? And why was he so close?
As she had tried to retreat, Sylus had been following closely. He’d already rounded the couch, his ruby eyes glimmering with a devilish sheen that promised trouble.
“Delete the pictures, kitten.”
“But I don’t want to.” She used her final weapon in her arsenal, pushing out her bottom lip into the most spectacular pout she could muster. “Won’t you be a good kitty and let me keep them?”
“I think we both know I’m not a good cat.” Another step, the distance between them closing. “And if you don’t delete them, I’ll have to hunt you down like the bad cat that I am.”
Oh absolutely not. She was going to print these and put them in a scrapbook.
She turned to run, the hallway that led to the front door barely a few steps away. And then she made it all of three steps before strong arms were wrapping around her middle, yanking her backwards and crushing her against the solidness of his chest.
“Nice try.” His voice rumbled in his chest, the reverberations sending goosebumps racing across her skin. “I guess a cat like me is quicker than a little kitten.”
“Only when they’re being mischievous,” she groused. He’d caught her so easily, she was a little disappointed; he could have at least let her get partway down the hall before snatching her up.
“Mischievous?” His voice was a warm sigh, sparks flaring along her nerves and down her spine.
“Yes! Mischievous. You grabbed me just like a bird flying by, all so you can steal my phone.”
Sylus hummed, the sound vibrating in the hollows of her bones. It reminded her of a purr, a warm rumbling that spread to the tips of her fingers and toes. “I think I’ve been much more gentle than I was with that bird.”
“Have you?” Her voice wobbled. “You’re holding me pretty tight. I think you bruised my sides for sure.”
He snorted, not loosening his hold in the least. “I’m making sure my house-cat doesn’t run away.”
The heat of his breath fanned over the back of her neck before she had a chance to respond, making her go quiet. He was still humming, but the rumble in his chest felt stronger, a tenor harmony that carried the tuneless melody in his voice.
She felt the tip of his nose, gently at first, running over the top of her head, his breath tangling in the strands of her hair. Down to the nape of her neck, ghosting over her skin until she shivered again. Her pulse stuttered, like the stumbling of feet in a dance she was still only learning.
Her breath stuttered out of her, each inhale making her mind more clouded, each exhale making her a little more breathless.
“House-cat?” She did her best to dredge up any ire, any petulance. “So now I’m a housecat?”
She ignored how he had emphasised ‘my,’ knowing full well it would make her lose her senses entirely. Already there was a riot of wings racing through her chest and belly, her heart’s beat no longer a steady rhythm she could rely on.
“You’re certainly not a wild one.” His breath tickled her ear as he ran his nose over the side of her head. “Although you’re not very obedient.”
“Cats rarely are.”
Her eyes fell closed as she felt his lips brush against the shell of her ear, his voice reverberating deep into the hollows of her bones. “Does that mean you really will run away?”
“No.” He chuckled at her answer; she hadn’t meant to emphasise it so hard. But the question had jabbed her like a needle, and she felt defensive.
“Unless you want me to,” she added, lowering her head.
His response was instantaneous, a tightening of his arms that held her so close she could feel each beat of his heart.
“Does anything I’m doing suggest I want you to run away?” He was smiling against her ear, pressing kisses to her flushed skin.
“You only grabbed me because you wanted to delete the pictures.”
Another chuckle, the reverberations twinning with the pleasant rumble coming from his chest. He slid his nose down further, heated lips dragging over her skin as he drawled: “thaaat’s right. The pictures.”
When he reached her throat he nuzzled his face against her skin, against where her pulse thrummed. Her breath caught, lungs constricting in surprise as a shiver raced through her like lightning strikes. If he had not been holding her up she would have fallen over, her legs betraying her with how weak they became.
He rubbed his face against where her pulse thrummed, his hair and ears tickling her with their softness. She closed her eyes again, content with his closeness and warmth, even knowing that he was very much still teasing her. It was how he was holding her, how he sighed so softly in between rumbling purrs that made her heart ache. If he asked her to delete the photos now she didn’t think she would put up much of a fight.
“You’re going to make it up to me if you want to keep those pictures, kitten.”
He didn’t sound particularly menacing, his words soft as feather down, his voice warm as a summer night.
She leaned back into his arms, nestled so comfortably she could have stayed there for ages. “Careful. You’re being cute again. You might make me think you really are my kitty cat.”
She felt his inhale, his nose pressed against her throat. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but ‘cute’ has never been one of them.”
“Well there’s a first time for everything.”
The rumble of his laughter tickled her skin, a flurry of goosebumps flaring across her skin in response. His nose bumped against her throat, his arms tightening as he nuzzled his face against her skin. His hair tickled too, soft edges like feathers as they brushed against her jaw. One of his ears smacked against her cheek, and she couldn’t help wondering if it had been intentional.
“Is that all you want me for? Being cute?”
Again she felt that instinct to act defensively; no she did not only want him for being cute. It’s not like he had been cute when they’d met.
“No,” again spoken with too much emphasis. But this time she didn’t care, even as she felt his widening smile against her neck. “Why do you keep saying things like that, Sylus?”
“Maybe I just like to see how you’ll react,” he said. She shivered again as he continued rubbing his face into her neck.
“Well, was my reaction good enough for you?”
He chuckled. “It was very good, sweetie. It told me everything I need to know.”
Heat crawled across her face, and she glared at the far wall as the heat of his breath washed over her skin, her nerves fizzing like sparklers in the night. Gossamer wings fluttered in her chest, her stupid heart betraying her.
“Good enough to let me keep those cute photos?”
Again he laughed, cold air swooping in like a bird of prey as he drew back. She shivered from the cold, wishing in the back of her mind that he would press his face against her.
“It’s not like you’ve left me with much of a choice, kitten.” His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, and she allowed herself a small smile as his warmth leached into her skin. “You can keep the photos.”
She grinned wider, utterly shameless. In the euphoria of her victory she managed to spin around in his arms, phone camera pointed up at him as she sang “smile!”
And Sylus did smile. A devious grin that promised nothing but trouble. But he smiled, letting her capture as many photos as she wanted while she giggled, her delight making her silly and carefree.
“Are you happy?” He asked, amusement lacing his tone as he tracked her movements with keen eyes.
“Very.” She couldn’t help herself, reaching up to give his cheek a pinch. “Now I’ll have lots of photos to remember when you were a cute kitty.”
Sylus sighed, but did not push her hand away. “I still don’t think being cute suits me.”
“I do!” She chirped. She gave his cheek another pinch, then patted it gently as he smirked. “You’re many things, Sylus. And cute is absolutely one of them.”
He chuckled, catching her hand before she could pull it away. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” She smiled wider, bubbling gold in her veins. What else did she call the crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he was happy? Of the roguish curve of his lips as he smiled? Or the way he held her hand close to his lips, thumb rubbing circles against the back of her hand?
Sighing again, he brushed a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re so spoiled, kitten.” He lowered his head, his tail swaying slowly, the ruby of his eyes bright with mirth. “Only you can see this side of me, and get away with calling me cute, my lady.”
She could have sworn she felt a rumble in his chest, a quiet reverberation she could feel in her heart.
“I guess I’ll need to work on being cuter,” he continued. His words should have sounded chagrined, and yet he only sounded amused, his eyes dancing. “So you’ll give me all your attention, instead of those photos.”
She smiled, his rumbling purrs as warm as his words. “I look forward to it.”
Hi anon!!!! You totally read that correctly, I have this little werewolf au of gavin mlqc that I open every now and again when I'm in a particularly silly mood and it just so happened it was open when I did this little tag game!!!!
Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs.
Thank you so much for tagging me!!!!
Hoooo this one is a bit embarrassing so I'm just going to do the wips I have OPEN currently rather than um..... all of them
luminaries as fairytales
regency gab
sick day
space idea
flower fairy gavin
luminaries chats
werewolf????
And I will tag @aluneposting @creepygodhunter @cafedanslanuit @otherlandshark and @my-life-is-a-bad-romcom and anyone else who sees this!!!!!
The monotony of paperwork and a growing migraine are thwarted by the chaos of Gavin's children, who seem intent on distracting him from anything but their very important tea party
Pairing: Gavin x MC (OC Rowan)
Tags: Fluff, established relationship/married, Dad Gavin, Domestic fluff, original characters (the baby bais in question), parenthood
Taglist: @aluneposting
The muffled sound of laughter filtered into Gavin’s home office as he flipped through the reports scattered across his desk. He could feel the beginnings of a headache thrumming in his temples and his eyes ached from staring at his computer all day.
He wanted to take a break, wanted to lie down on the couch in the living room, the one that sat beneath the windows with the gauzy blue curtains, and let the late afternoon sunshine wash over him like a golden blanket. He wanted to tuck one of the puffy pillows his wife had bought under his head and draw the fluffy pink blanket that was always tossed across the couch over his body. He wanted to nap, he wanted to fall asleep under the sunshine and wake up to a soft kiss on his forehead and the steady warmth of his wife as she curled up beside him.
But he still had a meeting in the next few minutes, and after that he had to at least finish some of the paperwork spread out before him.
He’d thought opting to do less fieldwork would mean spending more time with his family. But all it had really meant was long days with burgeoning migraines listening to his children squealing with joy as they played right outside his door. And occasionally, one of his children sneaking into his office and trying to crawl onto his desk.
He ran a hand down his face as he heard the twins arguing, Cordelia whining that Gardenia had to include her pet rock in their games. Her argument was followed by an unintelligible squeal and then the pounding of little feet racing up the staircase.
He had to focus, had to get these reports done, or else he’d never get to relax on the couch, would never get to spend any time with his family.
But he had barely typed up more than a few words when he heard the creak of his door being pushed open. There was the shush of tiny padded feet shuffling across the carpet and then a small hand patting the side of his chair.
Gavin looked down to see his youngest, Sorrel, staring up at him with wide amber eyes. His pacifier was still in his mouth and his hair was messy and tangled, like he’d just awoken from a nap.
“Hey buddy,” Gavin cooed, leaning down to scoop Sorrel into his arms. “What are you doing?”
Sorrel giggled, smushing his face against Gavin’s chest, stretching out his wrinkled baby hands.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be up, are you?” He asked, squishing Sorrel’s cheeks. “I think you’re supposed to be napping.”
Sorrel babbled something that sounded an awful lot like mama and Gavin’s heart ached. His son wasn’t yet two years old and he was already stumbling around on his little feet, trying to keep up with his older sisters. But he was nothing if not a mama’s boy, and no matter how much trouble his sisters tried to get him into, he always ended up leaving to go look for his mama.
“Should we go find mommy?” Gavin asked, cradling Sorrel close as he stood. “Get you tucked back into bed?”
Sorrel nodded, his wide eyes solemn as Gavin carried him through the house, searching for Rowan.
“Rowan?” Gavin called, readjusting Sorrel in his arms as he began to squirm, tilting his head back as he searched for his mother.
“Mama?” Gavin tried again, grinning as Sorrel joined in, cooing out a small ‘mama?’
“Babey?”
Rowan came around the corner, one twin held on either side of her hips, their legs kicking furiously in the air behind them. Chunks of hair had fallen from the ponytail she’d yanked into her unbrushed hair that morning when she’d taken the dog for a walk. He could see sweat shining on her brow and her cheeks, her chest heaving as she struggled to keep both twins in check.
She heaved a huge sigh, depositing the twins on the floor as she came towards him. Cordelia shouted, waving her rock in the air as she raced away while Gardenia just sat on the floor, glaring after her sister.
“What’s going on?” Rowan asked, stepping around a pouting Gardenia as she came to scoop Sorrel out of Gavin’s arms.
“Someone was trying to escape his nap,” Gavin murmured, his heart aching a little as he watched Sorrel nestle into Rowan’s arms, his little hands grabbing onto her shirt and holding tight.
Rowan tsked softly, shaking her head even as Sorrel babbled quietly, his eyes already falling closed again. “Back to bed with you, love.”
She cradled Sorrel gently, swaying from side to side until his breath evened out, his hands loosening their grip on her shirt. Gavin moved closer, wrapping his arms around Rowan’s waist, pulling her against him, little Sorrel sandwiched between them.
Rowan snorted, resting her head in the crook of his neck, her breath tickling his skin. “What are you doing?”
“Holding my wife,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to her brow. “I missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. I feel like you’ve been working for hours.”
He rubbed languid circles against her back, savouring the feel of her against him, even if it was only for a few moments. “Not as hard as you, pumpkin. You’re doing amazing.”
She sighed, and he could feel the wry smile that curled against her lips. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Once I’m done for the day I’ll come out and help. Maybe we can order dinner for tonight.”
There was a screech then, reminding Gavin that Gardenia had been grumbling underfoot after Cordelia ran off after successfully rescuing her rock.
“Can we have fwies!?” Gardenia cried, curling herself around Gavin’s leg. “Pwease?!”
Gavin crouched down, gently prying Gardenia from his leg. “We’ll think about it, tater tot. Why don’t you go play with your sister?”
At that she was pouting again, her little face scrunched up as she waddled away.
Rowan was laughing as he straightened. “I think you’re going to have to buy them fries.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “If I ever manage to finish these reports, anyways.”
She kissed his jaw, nuzzling against his throat. “Go on and finish your work. I can take care of these little potatoes.”
His heart ached as he headed back to his office, wishing he could just abandon his work, shut his computer down, and spend the rest of the day with his family. With his Rowan and their chaotic little children.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. He just had to get through a meeting, and then a few more hours. And then he would be done for the day. Then he could spend as much time as he wanted with his family.
“Hi papa,” Wisteria sang, startling Gavin from his attempts to motivate himself.
His second oldest was spinning around in his office chair, kicking her legs out as she spun, her hair fluttering around her face as she giggled.
“Do you wanna have a tea party?”
He shook his head, plucking her from the chair and spinning her around once. “I can’t right now, baked potato, I’ve got work to do.”
Wisteria stuck out her tongue. “Boo, that’s yucky.”
“Very yucky,” he chuckled, setting her down. “Why don’t you go play with your sisters?”
Wisteria sighed. “Uwowa got upset at me.”
“Why was she upset at you?”
Gavin could only imagine what Wisteria had done to annoy her older sister.
Aurora somehow managed to have limitless patience for a seven year old, but Wisteria always managed to find the last scrap of it and proceed to push her past her own limits.
She reminded him a little of his brother, a thought that worried him most when he found her on top of the fridge or trying to scale the side of Sorrel’s crib to “free him” from his “baby jail.” He had to remind himself she was still small, and as much as she could be a little menace, he adored her with his entire heart.
Wisteria looked proud as she bounced on her feet, waving at Gavin to lean down. “It’s a secwet, papa, I have to whispew it.”
He obliged, crouching down until he was at eye level with her.
“I hid her cwayons.”
Gavin blinked, earning a bout of giggles from Wisteria.
Maybe… Maybe less playdates with her uncle Shaw from now on.
“That’s not very nice,” he said, trying to reprimand her even as she continued to snort with laughter. “You need to find her crayons and apologize.”
He didn’t give her a chance to argue since he knew she would try. Somehow all the girls had gotten it into their heads that they were expert negotiators and he couldn’t remember a single decision that they didn’t try to negotiate their way out of.
He scooped her up again, walking quickly through the house and depositing her in front of her bedroom. “Go find the crayons and apologize to your sister, Wisteria.”
She made a face, but didn’t protest as Gavin made his way back to his office. He needed to get back and check his messages, he doubted there was much time until his meeting.
He was greeted to a silent office when he returned, and he closed the door with a sigh. He just needed a little silence to finish up a few things before the meeting started.
But he had barely sat down again when the door was pushed open, Aurora, his oldest, standing in the threshold.
“Papa?” She asked, sounding tentative as she came into the room. She was holding a paper in her hands, and it wobbled with every step she took.
“What’s wrong, sweet potato?” He asked, his hands flattening out against the desk.
“I finished a picture! Do you wanna see?”
“I always want to see.”
Aurora presented a cacophony of colour and shapes that Gavin thought was supposed to be a princess riding on a dragon, but he wasn’t completely sure.
“It’s beautiful,” he said, earning a bright grin that could have outshone the sun.
Little dimples appeared on both of Aurora’s cheeks as she lifted the paper higher. “It’s a princess on a dragon! They’re best friends!”
Gavin was pretty sure he deserved a gold star.
“Oh? And what are their names?”
“This is princess Rose, and her dragon is princess Violet!”
He lifted his brows. “A princess dragon?”
“Of course, papa!” She said, rolling her eyes like it was obvious. “The princess would have a princess dragon!”
Obviously.
He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Why don’t you go show mama? I bet she’ll love it.”
“Okay!” She sang, and then she was gone, racing through the house calling for Rowan.
Gavin checked his messages, but was still waiting on a few people, so he went back to scouring the papers in front of him. There were pages of suspects, reports on evidence found, requests for him to submit warrant requests.
He drummed his fingers on the table, rereading the list of evidence found at one of the attack sites. They were chasing down a rogue evolver who kept evading arrest and none of it made sense.
Maybe they had an accomplice? Maybe there were multiple evolvers involved?
He reached for his pen, the pink one Rowan had given him from her own collection of office supplies. It always made the girls giggle when he used it, and it was his wife’s favourite colour, so he used it often. He popped the cap off to make a note on a scrap of paper, but it slipped from his fingers, falling to the floor with a quiet click.
He rolled his chair back so he could lean down to retrieve the cap, only to lock eyes with a pair of wide golden eyes beneath the desk.
He slammed his head against the underside of his desk as his heart ricocheted in his chest, wincing as pain exploded in the back of his head.
“Cordelia!” He gasped, pulling away before he banged his head against the desk again, stars flashing in his vision.
“Papa!” She crawled out from underneath the desk, her pet rock clutched in one hand. “You huwt!”
He rubbed the back of his head as she got to her feet, throwing herself against his leg. “You scared me, tater tot.”
“I sowwy,” she muttered, her bottom lip sticking out. “I wanted a nap with Rocco.”
He stopped himself from asking why she had to have a nap under his desk and not her bed. He was sure there was child logic to it that was escaping him at the moment, but he knew it would come to him in the moments before he fell asleep as it usually did.
“Love,” he said, the ache in his head abating. “You can’t take a nap under my desk. What if I’d kicked you.”
“That’s okay papa,” Cordelia said, patting him in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. “I woulda kicked you back.”
That was not comforting in the least.
“Why don’t you go find your sisters,” he said, patting her shoulder. “I bet they’d love to play.”
Cordelia considered him for a moment, tapping her cheek.
Not a good sign.
“No, I wanna stay,” she chirped, toddling to the bookshelf and plunking herself down in front of it.
Gavin pursed his lips as he watched her idly pull at the books on the bottom shelf. She flipped them open then shoved them to the side, making enough space for her to crawl onto the lowest shelf.
“Cordelia, don’t-”
But then Wisteria was running in, screaming at the top of her lungs, her head thrown back as she stopped less than an inch from Gavin.
“Baked potato,” he said, cupping her face trying to calm her down. “What’s going on?”
“GARDENIA TOOK MY DOLLIE.”
A small bump sounded, followed by a quiet ‘ow’ from Cordelia, but Gavin wasn’t able to spare her more than a passing glance to make sure the entire bookshelf hadn’t fallen on top of her because then Gardenia was racing into the room, tears streaming down her face.
“Papa she’s a liar!”
Now Cordelia was up, running to her twin and wrapping her in a big hug. “I made us a fort!”
Gardenia sniffled. “A fort?”
“What about my dollie?!” Wisteria stamped her foot, looking close to tears herself.
“That’s enough,” Gavin said, trying to keep his composure. A ping sounded from his computer, and he didn’t have to look to know it was a message asking if they were all ready for the meeting.
He certainly was not ready, not with nearly all his children in his room being loud.
“Why don’t you go find your dollie, since Gardenia is playing with Cordelia,” Gavin suggested, wiping away Wisteria’s tears, trying to keep his voice even and calm.
Wisteria shook her head, holding her arms up to him. “I wanna sit with you, papa.”
Gavin shook his head, trying to be firm. He needed things quiet, he needed to work. “I have an important meeting, baked potato.”
“Papa, pwease,” Wisteria cried, clinging to his leg, rubbing her face against his jeans. “I wanna cuddle.”
Any resolve he might have had crumbled in an instant. How was he supposed to say no to her?
“Alright,” he said, scooping her up and settling her on his lap. “But you have to be very quiet, okay? I have an important meeting.”
Wisteria nodded, her mood seeming to brighten right away as she snuggled against his chest. “Tank you, papa.”
He kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back as he typed with one hand into the office chat that he was ready to go. Another moment passed by and the annoying, musical chime of the video call flooded the room from the speakers. Wisteria giggled, but Gavin shushed her before accepting the call, doing his best to organize the papers on his desk as the other members slowly joined the call.
“Looks like we have an extra guest here today,” Eli said, smirking as Wisteria beamed at the computer screen.
“Hi Uncle Ewi!” Wisteria said, waving furiously.
“Hey kiddo. Didn’t know we’d recruited you!”
Wisteria turned to Gavin, looking confused. “What’s wecwuited mean?”
“It means we convinced you to do our job.”
Wisteria hummed. “Can I drive the car?”
He snorted. “No baked potato, you’re too short.”
“Why?”
Eli and a few others chuckled on the other side of the scream. “Yeah, Captain, why can’t she drive the car?”
Gavin rolled his eyes, tucking Wisteria against his side as he tried to get down to business. “Okay, enough with the games.”
The conversation sobered up pretty quickly, and for her part, Wisteria was incredibly well behaved. For Wisteria.
Which meant she did try to make paper planes out of the reports on Gavin’s desk, but she wasn’t too loud and she only tried to stick her finger in his ear twice.
But they’d barely begun assigning tasks to the field team when he felt a tug on his arm.
“Papaaaa.”
Eli mimicked Cordelia’s whine, and Gavin considered putting him on desk duty for the month.
“What is it, tater tot,” he murmured, leaning over the side of his chair.
“I wanna have a tea party.”
“Can you wait until I’m done here?”
“Why?”
Snickers rose up from the speakers and Gavin shot a withering look to all of the faces on his screen.
“Because I’m very busy right now. Why don’t you find mama?”
Cordelia pouted, stomping back to her ‘fort.’
But then there was another tug on his leg this time, and he didn’t even have time to look down before Gardenia was scrambling onto his lap beside her sister, clutching him like her life depended on it.
“Another one” Eli laughed, Gardenia giving a shy smile in return. “Hey, kiddo, are you joining the meeting?”
Gardenia flicked her gaze over the different faces on the screen, her small smile never quite meeting her eyes. She looked like she was considering her response carefully.
“Wanted cuddle,” she said, sounding awfully prim for an almost four year old.
Gavin kissed the top of her head, trying to readjust so he could still reach the keyboard and his papers. “Alright, sweetheart, I need to finish my meeting.”
But that was when it all started going downhill. Because Wisteria launched herself from his lap and raced from the room, giving him a momentary reprieve that he did not realize was the calm before the storm. Gardenia seemed content to cuddle in his arms quietly, but Cordelia had started wandering around, talking loudly to Rocco.
She came up to the desk, waving Rocco in front of the camera and babbling about him helping them before she wandered away to go lie down in her ‘fort.’ And then Gardenia would grumble something unintelligible that sounded an awful lot like she hated Rocco.
And then Wisteria came back, screaming as she threw a stuffed otter and a stuffed axolotl with a princess hat strapped to its pink head.
Gavin whipped his head around just in time to get smacked in the face with the axolotl, blinking as starbursts exploded in his vision.
“They wanted to join, papa!” Wisteria cried, tossing more plushies into the room. “They want a pawty!”
Gavin opened his mouth to reprimand her right as Aurora came in, holding a package of grocery store cupcakes. “Papa, do you want a tea party…” She trailed off as she stared into the room, her eyes zeroing in on the axolotl in his lap.
“Princess Sparkle Rose!” Aurora cried, running towards Gavin and snatching up the plushie. “What are you doing?! We were having a tea party!”
Wisteria grinned, falling back against a pile of plushies she made. “We’re havin’ a pawty.”
Aurora clutched her plushie to her chest, glaring at her sister. “I was having a tea party.”
“We can have one in hewe!”
Aurora spun around, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Papa, tell Wisteria…”
She trailed off again as her eyes flicked to the screen, and her expression brightened. “Hi Uncle Eli!”
Aurora clambered onto Gavin’s lap before he could stop her, kicking him in the stomach as she propped her elbows onto the desk.
“I think we should have a tea party!” Aurora sang, wiggling her feet and nearly smacking Gavin again.
Some of the people laughed. “Whatever you say, boss.”
“Aurora, little princess,” Gavin said, trying to lift her from his lap and setting her down. “I have to finish my meeting, okay?”
“But I want a tea party!”
“Once I’m done my work, okay?”
“Booo,” Wisteria cried, stomping up and waving a plushie in front of the camera. “Miss Waddles wants to play!”
Gavin gently pushed her hand away, patting her head. “Why don’t you and Miss Waddles go play in the corner?”
Wisteria booed again before storming back to her little pile and throwing herself against it.
“Wisteria!”
Wisteria sat up instantly, her eyes widening, all thoughts of parties gone.
“Wisteria Faye!”
Gavin pursed his lips, ignoring the shouts of his wife as she searched for Wisteria, trying to focus on what someone in his meeting was saying.
“What did you do?” Aurora hissed, taking Wisteria’s hand.
“Just a pwank,” Wisteria pouted, letting her sister drag her across the room.
“Hide here until mama is gone.”
Gavin wondered if any of the girls realized he was still somewhat paying attention to what they were saying, and that he would certainly rat them out to Rowan if asked.
He knew well enough that he was wrapped around Rowan’s finger and wasn’t about to lie to his wife. He loved her smiles too much, loved when she brushed kisses against his face while running her fingers through his hair.
Gardenia snored quietly in his lap while Cordelia continued to ask if they would have a tea party soon, and did they want to listen to the story she was reading?
This was, of course, a deception. Cordelia couldn’t yet read and was often looking for any opportunity to ensnare a willing listener before she began telling them about the very long and detailed history of rocco and rocco’s misadventures with the assortment of bugs that lived in their backyard. And the few bugs that had very briefly lived in Cordelia and Gardenia’s room until Aurora had found them out and Gavin had banished them back out into nature.
Everyone had heard these stories, and he’d often joked with Rowan that one of them ought to write them all down, maybe try to get his brother’s help with a few illustrations. They were certain it would be a hit with children everywhere.
“No, ‘delia,” Aurora admonished, making Gavin nearly snort as he struggled to hold his laughter. “We have to hide Wisteria.”
Cordelia whined very loudly, but her little feet stomped away from the bookshelf and right up to Gavin as the sound of shuffling books and plushies filled the room.
“Papa, wanna hear bout Rocco?”
Gavin patted Cordelia’s head, his attention once again stolen from what was supposed to be a very important meeting.
“I dunno boss, I kind of want to hear about Rocco.”
Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing as deeply as he could. “As I was saying, we should have a few men out on patrol around-”
“Papa!” Cordelia cried, tugging on his arm. “My Rocco story!”
“I’ve heard your Rocco story, tater tot,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
“I haven’t!”
Gavin moved his cursor over Eli’s profile, muting it before he could say anything else ridiculous.
“Papaaa.”
Gavin sighed again, leaning down to draw Cordelia into his lap. Maybe if he held her she would be a little calmer.
But he’d only just straightened when Rowan came in, flour coating her like a second skin. It was caked to her face, and a powdery white haze seemed to follow her as she moved.
“What happened?” He asked, making to stand before he remembered he was holding the twins on his lap.
She shook her head, her shoulders slumping a little. “Don’t ask.”
“Is it about Wisteria?”
Rowan pursed her lips. “I think so.”
Ah. That would explain the shouting and the hiding.
“I heard them shouting in here so I thought I’d come grab them,” Rowan said, scooping Cordelia from his lap first. “I know you’re busy.”
Cordelia whimpered as Rowan drew her into her arms. “But papa.”
“You can play with papa later,” Rowan murmured, kissing Cordelia’s head before gently plucking the sleeping Gardenia and resting her against her other hip. “He’s very busy right now.”
“But Rocco.”
“Why don’t you tell me about Rocco, little princess. I’d love to hear it.”
Cordelia brightened up instantly, babbling away about the dramatic life of her pet rock. Aurora chased after them, waving her favourite plushies in the air, chattering along with Cordelia and asking if they could make cookies later.
Gavin waited until the sound of their voices grew muffled before turning back to his computer, his office quiet for the first time in what felt like hours.
He unmuted Eli, trying to return to business at hand. “I’m sorry-”
“Aaaw, you didn’t let me say hi to the missus.”
Gavin muted Eli for the rest of the meeting.
He was surprised at how quickly they were able to get through everything they needed to discuss once his office had been cleared out. They went over the requests for warrants, evidence already found, and a few other cases that needed to be looked at.
Gavin felt satisfied as he ended the call, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms as he stared at the chat screen for a moment. They’d gotten quite a bit done in that meeting, even if it had gone on a little longer than he’d hoped. And now all he had to do was finish up the paperwork currently flooding his desk.
He hummed mindlessly, a song Rowan sang to the children when she was putting them down for their naps. His pen scratched against the paper, pink, scrawling script quickly filling up all the space on the paper before him. He would write up rough information today, then get an early start tomorrow and type it all up. That way he’d be able to take a look at what he’d written with fresh eyes before submitting anything.
He grinned, wondering if Rowan would be proud of him. If she’d cup his face in her hands and tell him that was such a good idea and she was so happy he was her husband.
He was so caught up in his daydream that he almost didn’t notice the dull thunk of something falling to the ground behind him.
Almost.
Gavin set down his pen, pushing his chair back so he could get a good look at where the sound was coming from. There was a book lying on the floor a few feet from the bookshelf, surrounded by a pile of plushies that had been abandoned in the room by the girls. He frowned, standing up so he could retrieve it, wondering how it could have fallen.
Maybe there was something stuck in the shelf? Maybe it hadn’t been put back right?
He froze as another book fell from the shelf.
No, fell wasn’t the right word. Shoved.
And then another, and another. And then the mountain of plushies came tumbling down and Wisteria poked her head out from the bottom shelf, grinning up at him. She reminded him of the little imps and pixies that adorned the pages of one of Aurora’s favourite fairy tale books. Sweetness and mischief dancing together in tandem in her bright eyes.
“Can we have a tea party now?” She asked, crawling out from her hidey hole.
Gavin turned back to his paperwork, to everything that still needed to be done, then back to his daughter and her pleading eyes and her impish smile and the little dimples on her rosy cheeks.
He scooped her up, spinning her around and around until she was squealing with laughter, her legs kicking out behind her.
He’d done enough work for today. He wanted to spend time with his family. The paperwork could wait. He wanted his wife, he wanted to play with his children.
He slowed down, cradling Wisteria close as he shouldered open the office door. “Let’s go get your sisters.”
“For a tea party?”
He ruffled her hair as she laughed. “Yes, for a tea party.”
“With cookies? And the pretty pink tea mama has?”
“With whatever you want.”
Wisteria squealed again, wiggling in his arms as he called out for the other girls and for Rowan. He smiled when he heard their shouts and the sound of their feet racing towards him. Their laughter wasn’t muffled now, dulled by the closed door of his office. It was bright, it was loud, and it filled his heart with sunshine until it was overflowing, and then it fizzed through his blood like champagne, or like that sweet bubbly wine Rowan bought for brunch with her friends.
He felt warm, he felt a little dizzy, and he felt so happy he thought stars were blooming in his heart, an entire galaxy of light and warmth and brightness inside of him.
“What is it?” Aurora asked, poking her head from the kitchen as the squeal of the twins could be heard overhead as they raced for the stairs.
Gavin crouched down and drew her into a tight hug. “Pick out your favourite teas, sweet potato. We’re going to have a tea party.”
Being invited to Rafayel's studio that morning had promised a lazy, sleepy day spent with him while he painted, and yet it was quickly turning into something more as she tried taking care of her hungry, tired artist in pain.
Pairing: Rafayel x MC
Tags: Fluff, comfort, implied/established relationship, domestic-ness
Taglist: @aluneposting
A long, drawn out groan drew her from her reverie.
She had been reading, half-asleep on the couch in Rafayel’s studio. Soft blankets had been strewn across it, pillows fluffed until they were puffy as cotton-candy clouds. Honeyed sunlight had spilled from the windows, washing over the floors and furniture like a gauzy veil.
It had been as alluring as a siren song, and she had nestled into it as Rafayel had painted. He’d called her that morning, asking her to come over, but when she’d arrived he’d only waved a hand, telling her to make herself comfortable as he’d frowned at his painting.
So she had, settling into the couch that had suspiciously been covered in all her favourite blankets. It had been far too easy to doze, even though she’d tried valiantly to remain awake, focusing her attention on the book she’d brought with her. But the blankets had been so soft, and the pillows so fluffy, and the sun so warm.
The snatches of melodies Rafayel had hummed had been the proverbial nail in the coffin, like scraps of a lullaby woven together in the air, soft and serene, lulling her to sleep.
But when he groaned, loud and raspy and full of distress, she snapped awake at once, bleary eyes searching for him in the cavernous room that served as his studio.
She found Rafayel leaning back on a stool, teetering precariously close to the edge, his head thrown back. His bangs spilled back, a mess of lavender and lilac and violet as the light caught in it. He had tossed his paintbrush to the side, trailing a line of azure as it rolled across the floor, one of his hands gripping at his wrist.
“Rafayel?” She struggled to stand, the blankets tangled and knotted around her legs. “Darling? What’s wrong?”
He leaned further back, very nearly toppling backwards as he spied her. “You’re awake.”
“Of course I am.” Finally she managed to free herself from the tangle of blankets, getting to her feet and crossing the room towards him. “I heard you. Are you okay?”
He clicked his tongue as he straightened, still clutching his wrist as he stood. “My wrists have been hurting all morning, and now I can hardly hold a paintbrush.”
“What?” She hurried to him, hands outstretched towards him.
He raised his brows, but made no comment as she took his hands, prying away the one that was clinging to his wrist.
“When did the pain start?” She squeezed his wrists gently, trying to feel for swelling, a bruise, a broken bone, anything. “Did you do anything yesterday? Why did you go to the doctor? Why did you keep painting today?”
He sighed, flipping his hands over and wrapping his fingers around her wrists. “You’re asking the questions too fast for me to answer.”
“Oh.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she ducked her head, staring at the dried paint splattered across the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey.”
She looked back up, finding amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Don’t pout,” he chided, shaking his head even as he gave her an impish smile. “I’m already hurt, are you really going to make me feel worse?”
She ground her teeth together, looking away as his smile grew wider. “My mistake, you must not be hurt that badly if you’re making jokes.”
She tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened on her, yanking her back before she’d even taken a full step away.
“Wait.” His eyes widened, his smile melting into a frown. If little pinpricks of silver had appeared at the corners of his eyes she wouldn’t have been surprised.
She conceded, letting him reel her back in. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
He looked down, a line forming between his brows as he dropped her hands, squeezing his wrists again. “I’d been hit with some inspiration, so I spent all of yesterday painting. When I woke up this morning they were hurting, but I thought it would go away once I started painting again.”
She frowned, reaching for his hands again.
“Being awfully touchy today, huh,” he said, the corner of his lip twitching.
She remained silent, glowering at him until he wilted, muttering a half-apology.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked
“Well I was gonna,” he whined. He shifted from foot-to-foot, and the image of a sulking child coming home with scrapes all over him rose in her mind, refusing to make eye contact as he shuffled his feet. “But I forgot.”
“You forgot?” She blinked. “You made it sound like it’s been making it impossible to paint.”
He rolled his eyes with a huff. Definitely a petulant child. “Well it hasn’t made it impossible, but I wanted to get as much done as I could while I was inspired, and whenever you’re around I feel more creative…” He trailed off, glaring at the far wall. “I got distracted, but now it hurts too much to work on any of the finer details.”
She hummed in acknowledgement, warmth like the first blush of light as the sun rose spreading rosy fingers through her chest, reaching through the spaces between her ribs.
‘Whenever you’re around I feel more creative…’
She would save that to tease him with for later.
But right now she was worried about the pain in his wrists, and even more worried that he’d tried to work through it, that he probably would have ignored it entirely until it got so much worse.
“Have you ever had this kind of pain before?”
A shake of his head, as dramatic as a stage-actor embellishing their movements. “No, never!” His words were an exclamation, loud and exasperated. He heaved out a long breath, shoulders rising and falling, head tossed to the side. “This has never happened before.”
“Rafayel…” She trailed off, flipping his hands up then down, palms to the ceiling, to the floor, her fingers carefully probing to see if she could find anything.
“It’s probably nothing,” he groaned, slumping forward now, head very nearly knocking into hers. “But I can’t finish my painting while it hurts!”
He jerked his head back up so quickly he nearly knocked their foreheads together. She barely had a moment to lean back before he was peering up at her, crocodile tears shining in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering like he was about to sob. “What if I run out of inspiration? It took me weeks to find it!”
She sighed, giving his wrists a squeeze. “Before we jump to the worst case scenario, we need to handle this, okay?”
He groaned, tossing against his shoulder, slumping sideways like he might spill onto the floor. “How can we handle it? Are you going to swim into the ocean to find wishing fish to cure me?”
She blinked. “Are those real?”
“You really need to be less trusting.”
She groaned, rolling her own eyes now. “Come on, Rafayel. I’m worried about you, you don’t take care of yourself.”
“Excuse me?” He scoffed, looking offended. “I take care of myself perfectly well. It sounds to me like someone is making things up!”
She frowned, pulling out her phone to check the time. “Did you eat breakfast?”
There was a short intake of breath, like he was about to answer, and then…
Nothing.
She looked back up to see him pouting, looking away as he puffed out his cheeks.
“You didn’t eat breakfast, did you?”
He yanked himself from her grip, crossed his arms, shielding himself from her. He puffed his cheeks out even more, still refusing to answer.
She giggled, unable to resist poking his cheek. “You know it’s the middle of the afternoon, right?”
Still no answer. All she got in response was Rafayel half-turning away from her, wrinkling his nose as he shot her a scathing look from the corner of his eye.
She reached for him again, settling her hands just below his shoulders. “Come with me, love.”
He looked back at her, his expression softening, although his tone was still thick with suspicion. “What are you planning?”
“I’m planning-” she took the opening to take his arm, dragging him towards the couch. “To get you to sit down so we can get you feeling better.”
“Hey. Hey!” Although he protested, he did not stop her from pulling him from his painting, nor did he stop her from nearly shoving him against the cushions of the couch.
“If you wanted me to sit you could have just asked,” he whined, squeezing his wrists again. “I’m delicate, you know. You have to be gentle with me.”
The memory of the last time she’d been unwell surfaced in her mind, Rafayel dragging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and all but chucking her onto the bed and telling her to rest.
“Mmmm,” she hummed instead, unlocking her phone and opening her delivery app. “Okay, baby. First of all, let’s get you something to eat.”
He groaned, eyes rolling so high all she could see were the whites as he threw himself back against the cushions.
Delicate indeed.
“I’m fine,” he groaned, waving his hand in the air. “I’m not hungry, I just want my wrists to stop hurting!”
She clicked her tongue. “You need to eat something, Rafayel. It’ll make you feel a little better.”
He wrinkled his nose, turning his head to the side with a huff.
“Alright.” She widened her eyes theatrically, waving her phone at him. “So if I order you a large garden salad with no toppings, that will be fine?”
“No, I don’t want that.” Suddenly he was up, trying to snatch the phone from her hands as he protested. “If you’re going to order something, order something good.”
“Oh? Like what?” She pulled her phone just out of reach, pressing her palm against his chest to stop him from grabbing it. “What do you think would be good?”
“Well not a salad.” He made another grab for her phone, narrowly missing. “And don’t go ordering that awful sushi like you did last time.”
“What do you mean, awful?” She gaped at him, mildly offended. She’d really liked the sushi she’d ordered last, the crispy bits along the sides adding a nice little crunch and the sauce being perfectly spicy. “I thought it was good!”
“Not only are you guileless, but you have no taste for seafood, either.” He grabbed her wrist, sliding her hand from his chest and lunging forward.
She laughed, rolling to the side and nearly falling from the couch to stop him from snatching her phone. “What is that even supposed to mean?!”
“It means,” he huffed, cheeks puffing out again, pouting at his loss. “That if you want seafood, you should just ask me to make it, and not order from some overpriced restaurant.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she giggled, clutching her phone to her chest as she readjusted, sitting up on the couch once more. “But I don’t want you to cook right now when your wrists hurt.”
“I wouldn’t cook anyways,” he grumbled, leaning back. A light began shining in his eyes, and the corners of his lips turned up in mischief. “Unless you asked very nicely.”
She hummed, choosing not to acknowledge him. Instead, she scrolled through the delivery options on her phone, reading them off to see his reaction.
“Pasta?”
“Are you kidding? It’ll make me too sleepy to keep painting.”
“Soup?”
“That’s hardly filling.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “What about curry? There’s a place that does really nice Thai curry.”
He narrowed his eyes, nose wrinkling. “Fine, if it makes you happy.”
“You have to eat it, too, Rafayel,” she pointed out. “You are going to eat it. Right?”
He groaned, throwing his head back, draping his arm across his face. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?”
She beamed. “No.”
“Fine.”
She tried passing her phone to him, but he waved her off, turning to the side so he looked every bit the troubled damsel. “Choose whatever.”
“Are you sure?”
He sighed, long and drawn out, like the wind whistling across ocean waves. “Yes, I’m sure. Just make sure it’s a red curry, and make sure it’s not too spicy.”
She had to bite back a smirk as he continued listing off his preferences. He wanted to pay extra for shrimp, he wanted jasmine rice not white rice, he wanted one made with coconut milk if they had it.
“Anything else?” She asked, hovering her finger over the ‘order’ button.
He peaked up from beneath his arm. “Don’t forget to order something for yourself, too. When’s the last time you ate?”
“Hey.” She pouted, wrinkling her nose to mimic him. “You’re the one who didn’t even eat breakfast.”
He shrugged. “I was hard at work chasing my inspiration. What’s your excuse?”
“I did eat breakfast.”
“Good, and now you can eat lunch.” He reached out to tap her phone screen. “Order something for yourself, I’ll pay.”
At that she balked, her stomach roiling; she hated making people spend money on her, hated being an inconvenience, a burden. “That’s okay, Rafayel. You’re the one who’s hurt, I don’t want you to waste your money on…”
The glare he fixed her with was sharp as his daggers, hot as flame. She felt her skin warm, burn beneath the force of it.
“It’s not a waste,” he said, his tone a proclamation, an insistence buoyed by sparks that billowed into fire as they caught on kindling.
“I-” She was a little dazed, speechless in the face of the sting in his tone.
He drew in a deep breath, sighed slowly, his expression slowly softening, the lines around his eyes fading. “If you expect me to eat, then you have to eat, too. You need your energy just as much as I do.”
She hummed, trying to discern whether he was teasing her or being genuine. “Why? Are you planning something?”
His smile turned wry. “Who knows? Maybe I had something planned once I finished this painting.” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “Although that probably won’t happen now, since I’ll never finish the painting.”
“You’ll finish your painting,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, you’re acting like you’re going to lose your hands.”
“And what if I am?” He whined. “You’ll have to hand-feed me my lunch. You’ll have to move in to take care of me.”
“Wow, I’m so honoured you’d want me to live with you just to take care of you,” she said, tone dry.
“Well there might be other reasons, too.” His smile was infuriating, smug and enigmatic at once. “But that would be my excuse.”
“I’m touched.”
He rolled his eyes, making another grab for her phone. “Just hurry up and order, I feel like a fish drying up on the beach.”
She snorted, quickly tapping in what she wanted and hitting ‘order.’
“There,” she said, tucking her phone back into her pocket. “At least I can make sure you’ll eat something.”
He tipped his head to the side, propping it up with his fist. “You know, if you’re that worried about me eating, you should come over more often to remind me. And bring me my favourite snacks.”
“I already stock your favourite snacks at home,” she said, ignoring the way her heart fluttered, fast as the beat of hummingbird wings, at how the light touched his eyes, how his bangs fell over his brow, half-covering one eye. His hair was soft, she knew it was, and her fingers tingled with the sudden need to touch it, to smooth it back.
“Yes, but you don’t bring them over,” he countered, brows rising. “How am I supposed to eat them when they’re at your house?”
“I gave you a key,” she reminded him. She gave him a light kick, earning a feigned huff of pain. “You’re in my house more than I am.”
The corners of his lips turned down, a waning crescent moon lost in the indigo sea of the night. “Well you should come over here more. Maybe it will convince me to keep more food in the house.”
“And if I ask very nicely, will you cook too?” She parroted his words from earlier back at him, even as fluttering wingbeats swooped in her belly and embers caught on the pyres beneath her skin.
“Maybe,” he hedged, his lips quivering, like he was trying to hold back his smile. “If I don’t lose my hands before then.”
“Here,” she leaned forward, holding her hands. “Give me one of your hands.”
“You’re not going to do something weird to it, are you?” He sounded dubious, but he gave her one of his hands, settling it between her two cupped palms.
It was so much larger than hers, dwarfing both her hands in comparison. She swallowed, butterfly wings forcefully fluttering against the borders of her body, trying to escape.
“Yes, I plan to steal the artistic talent from your hands,” she teased, ignoring the cascade of wings, the rise of heat in her chest. She slid her fingers to his wrist, gently pressing her thumbs into the spaces between the joints at the centre, feeling the flit of his own pulse. “I’m going to be the famous painter now, and you can protect me.”
“Don’t know how much protecting I’ll be able to do with useless hands.” Now he was smiling, his eyes bright, the blue seeming to deepen, a blue like ocean tides. “But I can certainly try my best.”
She started with small circles, pressing them gently into the middle of his wrist, pausing frequently to make sure he was comfortable, that she wasn’t hurting him.
“You know you should probably do wrist and hand exercises,” she mused, sliding her thumbs to the sides of his wrist, repeating the same small circles at the sides. “I think you can find some online if you look. And you should rest more often and do some stretches.”
Rafayel scoffed, although it sounded weak, strained. When she looked up he was steadfastly staring at the ceiling, his lips pulled into a pout.
“I mean it,” she continued, sketching her fingertips over the back of his hand. “If you don’t, you really are going to lose your hands! And then you won’t ever be able to paint again.”
“Oh please.” He pouted harder, lines creasing between his brows. He tilted his head back more, although she could feel his gaze on her, watching her careful ministrations.
“No it’s true.” It was difficult, holding back her smile, and she had to lower her head, letting her bangs act as a veil between her face and his searching eyes. “When pain like this gets too extreme they just chop people’s hands right off.”
She could feel as he shifted, as he leaned towards her, and she could only imagine the narrowing of his eyes, the jut of his lip from his pout.
“No it’s not,” he said, but there was hesitation in his voice.
She only hummed in response, pressing her thumbs over each individual finger bone, delicately adding pressure and sliding up towards his wrist. His skin was soft, and warm, and she could feel the small calluses on his hand from holding his paintbrush, and from what she could only assume was wielding his daggers.
The roughness was strange, at odds with the softness of his skin, and her mind wandered each time her fingers brushed against one, remembering the feel of his palm against her cheek, the back of her neck, against her own palm whenever he took her hand.
It was far too easy to get distracted, for her thoughts to melt away and heat to billow in her chest and belly, from the storm of flitting gossamer wings, from the rush of her beating heart, from the lingering smell of cologne underneath the sting of the smell of paint.
“I guess this is it for me,” he groaned, flopping backwards again. Now she did look up, snorting in laughter as he tossed his free arm over his face again, slumping against the couch like a ragdoll.
Focusing on his dramatics made it easier to ignore the nonsensical thoughts rising like a wave, threatening to crash over her. She could feel her senses drifting away, caught in his undertow and whisked out to sea. There was only Rafayel, and the weight of his hand in hers, and the smell of him, and the song of his voice.
But it was his words, and his melodrama, that fell like an anchor, holding her in place where she would have been lost in the ocean of what was rising in her heart. And she held onto that anchor for dear life, knowing that if she slipped he would tease her relentlessly, an incessant waterfall of jokes and teasing that would leave her flustered and furious.
And then he would do something equally infuriating, like taking her face and kissing her stupid, until he was the only thing occupying her mind.
As if he wasn’t already the only thing occupying her mind.
Warmth was beginning to bloom in her cheeks, unfurling like wildflowers, one petal at a time. But Rafayel didn’t notice, or if he did he didn’t much care, too wrapped up in his whingeing.
“I’ll never be able to lift a paintbrush again,” he groused, back arching as he took a deep breath, then collapsing against the couch all over again. “I’ll have to make you paint everything for me, so my inspiration doesn’t go to waste.”
She arched a brow as she flipped his hand over, pressing her thumbs into the centre of his palm. His fingers curled over slightly, brushing against the backs of her hands, a shiver going through her at the touch.
It was only through sheer willpower was she able to keep her body steady, massaging circles into the very centre of his palm, slowly working towards the sides of his hand and down towards his fingers.
“What do you mean you’ll make me paint everything?” She asked. “I’m not the professional artist.”
“And who’s been adding those doodles in the corners of my sketchbook.”
She kept her focus trained on his hand, the weight of his gaze bearing down on her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”
“You can’t fool me.” He leaned forward, flicking her forehead with his free hand. “I’m not the one with seaweed for brains. I know it was you.”
She puffed out her cheeks, petulance growing like bubbles in her chest. “And what if it was?”
“It means you’ll be the one painting for me when I lose my hands. And it means you’ll have to spend more time here.”
Her lips lifted of their own accord, the rough peevishness replaced by a rose-stained warmth. It was golden sunshine seeping across the horizon, indigo bleeding into lavender and cerise. An excuse to spend more time with him, close at his side, was welcome as the dawn, as desired as sun-warmed waves foaming around her ankles.
He was always finding reasons to appear at her door unannounced, but she felt forever nervous whenever she considered visiting him. She did not want to distract him from his work, did not want to be a nuisance that took up space when he needed things in exact, particular ways as he created. She did not want to be needy, to be seen as clingy and desperate, her skin prickling at just the thought of him regarding her poorly, of scoffing at her and sending her away because he couldn’t deal with someone clinging to him at all hours of the day.
She was needy though, and she craved his presence, the feelings sticky as honey. It clung to her skin and the back of her throat, clogging her veins and the valves and pumps of her heart. With each breath she could feel it, pooling in her lungs, choking out the air, each intake of oxygen fruitless as she drowned in her own neediness.
She did not know what to say that would have hidden such things from view, so she hummed instead, massaging around his knuckles. If she spoke she would surely reveal herself, and the mess of her heart.
Rafayel clicked his tongue, oblivious to the riot of her mind, the disarray of her heart. “Although we would need to get you some art lessons; your understanding of colour is abysmal.”
She could not look up, her face burning now, as if he’d set her alight with his own flames. “You know they don’t actually chop your hands off,” she said, whisper-soft. She needed to focus, on the moment, on his theatrics, on his hand cradled between two of hers.
She was trying to help him, to take care of him as best she could. Not to melt into a puddle of yearning, her mind utterly bewitched by the touch of his hand.
“But you do have to take care of yourself more,” she said, louder now, more firm. She lowered his hand, beckoning for him to give her the other one. “If you don’t do stretches and exercises regularly there can be a lot of issues in the future. You won’t lose your hands, but it might become too difficult to hold a paintbrush.”
As she repeated the process all over again, starting with his wrist, slowly making her way around it before pressing the pads of her thumbs into the back of his hand, she could feel his body slumping back again. The cushions beneath them shifted, his free hand dangling over the side of the couch. He groaned, eyes squeezing closed as he shook his head. “Do I have to? Surely this is only a one-time thing.”
“Rafayel.” She said his name like a sigh, closing her own eyes. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. I’m always worried about you.”
When she opened her eyes again his face had become a riot of colours, brilliant vermillion and deep carmine. Splatters of scarlet and crimson, of peach and strawberry, seeped across his face, vanishing beneath his hair. His eyes seemed all the brighter, the blue nearly drowning the red with its intensity. They were bright as gems, a vivid cerulean that she could have drowned in, lured into its depths by his siren song.
It took her breath away, made her own face burn, flames licking up her bones, racing along her veins, singeing her heart. Had she any further words to say, they were gone now, consumed by the heat of the fire in her cheeks, in the flush covering every inch of her body.
But it was Rafayel who spoke next, or tried to, anyways. He looked at the ceiling, at the wall, down at their joined hands. He cleared his throat, ran his fingers through his hair, letting it fall at odd angles as he looked up again, anywhere but at her.
“O-oh?” His chest rose, fell, eyes trailing over some detail she wasn’t focused on. All her focus was on him, even the stammer of his voice mesmerizing. She was enthralled, lost to him despite her best efforts.
He covered his cheek, still refusing to meet her gaze. “You-you worry about me all the time?”
She nodded. “I do.”
Like a switch being flipped, his eyes finally cut to hers, the red returning in a blaze of fire. His brows drew low, lines deepening between them. “Well maybe you should come over more often, then, and you wouldn’t have to worry.”
Had she said something wrong? “Rafayel, it’s not that I don’t want to think about you, I just want you to be okay.”
“Then you should come over more,” he said. Although his expression softened, his tone was no less insistent. “I’ll be okay as long as you’re here.”
The breath went out of her then, her heart thrumming so quickly she didn’t feel it at all.
She opened her mouth, not even sure what she would say, only that she had to say something, the taste of her own neediness in the back of her throat.
Only to jump at the ring of the doorbell.
She gasped from the suddenness of it, feeling wild as she jerked her head to the side, towards the door.
Rafayel swore, the hand she’d been holding suddenly gripping her own, like he was the one anchoring himself in a storm. “Hey, baby-”
He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as loud raps cut through the air, severing the last strand of the spell they had woven.
Grumbling, he shoved himself to his feet. “I’ll get it!”
More loud raps, impatient.
“I said I’ll get it!”
She sat, stunned, watching as Rafayel vanished from the room. She was left with nothing but a tingling in her hands, the echo of his warmth beside her, and the smell of the paint drying on the canvas.
She stared down at her hands, where she’d cradled his only moments ago. Severed from her anchor, lost in a storm, the ocean carrying her far away to somewhere unknown. That moment had been like wine, heady and intoxicating, leaving her senseless. If the doorbell had not rang, what would she have said? Would she have told him? Would she have admitted to her need, her yearning for his presence?
She didn’t have a chance to wonder for long, a cold pop-can pressed against her burning cheek.
“Here,” Rafayel said, waiting for her to take it from his hand. “The food’s arrived.”
Quietly she nodded, taking the bag he offered her next.
Silence descended, a heavy mantle that stifled everything but the beat of her heart, so loud it pulsed in her ears, so insistent she could feel it in her fingertips.
It was even, rhythmic, the beat to a song she could not quite place.
He settled beside her, rifling through the takeout bags and divvying up the food.
“I meant it, you know,” he said, a knife slicing through the quiet, shattering the stained glass of the moment. “You should come over more.”
She fiddled with her food, daring a glance at him. “Why is that?”
A shrug. “For my health, and my art. And just because.”
She hummed, poking at her food. Her belly churned, her heart beating all the fiercer at the meaning hidden in his words.
He wanted to see her more, he wanted her near more.
She was so worried that he would see her as needy, as pathetic, and yet was he not admitting the same thing that she kept hidden? The need to be closer, to be near?
Only then did she understand; the song that her heart was a part of. That it was for him. That she wanted it to be for him. And if he wanted her close, and she wanted to be close, then couldn’t she let the song play until its final note?
“Rafayel?”
He arched a brow at the sound of his name, turning to look at her fully “Yes?”
Her heart was in her throat, each word another note, another part of the melody. She could taste the sweetness of it, like honey, but she did not fear it, did not feel it cloying her senses as she’d once been certain it would. “Then, could I come over again? Tomorrow?”
He blinked, a flicker like silver beneath waves in his eyes. Then he was smiling, wide and infuriatingly smug and utterly wonderful. “You really can’t wait to see me again, can you?”
She really couldn’t, giddiness bubbling golden-bright. “Maybe I just want to make sure you don’t push yourself too hard, and actually eat regularly.”
He snorted. “A likely story.” He paused, his eyes softening. “I’ll make sure things are ready for you, so you can come over whenever you want.”
“Won’t you get tired of me? If I come over all the time?” She scooted closer, a flower basking in the light of the sun.
Light as the breeze, his fingers brushed across her temple, slipping over her hair. “No, I could never be tired of you.”
He lowered his hand, sudden sharpness shooting through her face as he pinched her cheek. “So you’d better come over all the time, and you’d better not make me wait. And if you don’t then I’ll come find you.”
Laughing, she pushed his hand away. “I promise, I’ll come over all the time.”
His gaze burned, bright as flames for the briefest of moments before he leaned back, nodding once. “Good. And if my hands start hurting you can help me again, I already know what I want to paint next.”
“Okay.” She spoke softly, smiling down into her food, joy flickering like colourful tails beneath the waves, like sunlight across water.
Tomorrow spread before her, and all the tomorrows after that, as boundless as the sea. And perhaps she would lose herself, and she would be dragged away by the tide. But he would be with her, his smile, his laughter, his maddening teasing, and even the force of the ocean’s waves could not tear that away.
For maybe the first time ever, Rafayel was late. And not just late, but very late. And when the minutes turn to hours and still he doesn't arrive for their date, she begins to panic, beginning a frantic search for her lost artist. Once he's found, she doesn't know what will happen next, but he'll have to do a lot to make up for it.
Pairing: Rafayel x MC
Tags: Fluff, established/implied relationship, forgiveness/making it up to her, emotional hurt/comfort
Taglist: @aluneposting
For the first time, she was early.
Not to say she was ever late. She would arrive right on time for days she planned to spend with Rafayel, only for him to whine at length about how long he had been waiting for her, time slipping away like water through fingertips as he aged and the world crumbled in his impatience.
Sometimes she would try to arrive early. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. Yet no matter how early she arrived, Rafayel would always be there, tapping his foot dramatically, lamenting how he was withering away into nothing while he waited for her.
And on the days he was feeling most impatient, she would find him at her door, pouting as he demanded to know why she hadn’t let him in earlier, why she was still getting ready when he wanted to see her now.
A memory of his petulant whine as she wrote down the code for her apartment so he could just let himself in next time he was feeling restless rose to the forefront of her mind. He had been standing outside her building, tapping his foot furiously, arms crossed, his lips pulled into such a magnificent pout that birds could have perched on his bottom lip. She wouldn’t have even noticed he’d been there if her windows hadn’t been opened, if he hadn’t been whining so loudly she’d been able to hear it from inside her apartment.
He’d been early. Hours early. He’d decided that they’d needed to meet earlier in the day, that his artist’s heart had called on him to do something different than what they’d been planning that day.
She hadn’t really understood what he’d been saying, too focused on handing him a slip of paper with the code to her apartment on it so that the next time his heart or his intuition or his whatever decided their plans needed to change and he didn’t want to text her, he could just let himself in.
He had been so delighted he’d quieted instantly, tucking the paper into his pocket and throwing himself onto her couch, waxing on about how lucky she was to have someone like him in her life, and that she must adore him to trust him with her apartment code.
Whether she adored him or not had been something she’d been planning to keep to herself, although the truth that she’d been keeping buried in the soil of her heart was sprouting, emerald green shoots emerging, pale pink buds beginning to unfurl.
It was because of that feeling, the one blooming as languidly as flowers in spring, that she felt a fist squeezing around her heart, that she felt the air rush from her lungs even as they spasmed helplessly. Because if she was early, that meant that Rafayel was late.
She drummed her fingers on the top of the café table she had snagged when she’d arrived. She’d felt so terribly smug when she’d slid into her seat, arriving early enough that Rafayel would have nothing to chastise her for. He would undoubtedly tease her for arriving before him, but his pleased laughter was sunlight to the garden of her heart, coaxing seedlings from the ground. She would happily listen to his teasing, rolling her eyes and feigning annoyance, as he chattered on when he arrived.
But then the minutes had slipped by, water spilling through the cracks between her fingers, and Rafayel had not appeared. There had been no echo of his voice, no tap of his foot.
His presence filled every room he stepped into, and yet the café had remained empty, hollow as marrowless bones, sucked clean. All around her people were talking, laughing, indulging in the company of their friends, their family, their lovers. But it was dull, like she was hearing their voices from beneath the surging waves of the sea.
Her heart slowed, her stomach lurched. Her blood slowed to a sluggish flow, congealing in her veins. Winter spread through her body, latticed frost coating her bones, the spring she had felt flourishing in her marrow barren, decayed.
Panic should have been a wildfire, the furious flight of her heart, jackrabbit beats pounding in her throat, so quick, so wild in its panic that her veins pulsed from her skin. She should have heard nothing but the rush of her burning blood, fiery rapids drowning her beneath their foaming churn.
But Rafayel was fire, warmth. Without the glowing embers of heat that he coaxed to life, she felt herself wilting, withering in the cold left in his wake.
She wanted to shake herself for such dramatics, knowing that Rafayel would never let her live this down if he ever got wind of the frenzy she had worked herself into. But with even the threat of eternal teasing hanging over her head, she couldn’t seem to push away the oily nerves slithering in her belly.
She drummed her fingers on the top of the table, staring at the little clock hung on the wall of the café.
He couldn’t always be early, surely. Rafayel’s moods were as changing as the tides, ebbing and flowing at his whim. He could be a summer storm, waves so powerful they could erode stone in one moment, calm and steady as a beating heart in the next.
The thought did little to calm her as the seconds slipped by. Each breath was a grain of sand slipping through an hourglass, piling at her feet as her anxiety grew. She checked her phone, opening up her texts with Rafayel and scanning them, trying to figure out if something was wrong, if she’d upset him.
It didn’t seem like anything had been out of the ordinary. She’d sent him a picture of a goldfish she’d seen at a pet shop the day before and he’d sent a stream of emojis followed by demands to set it free. He’d texted her just after midnight demanding attention, followed by a number of photos of a shade of green he was trying to perfect. And then she’d woken up to more messages, asking her to help him come up with an excuse to turn down a party invitation.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as her eyes trailed over the string of texts she’d sent him since she’d arrived at the café. Gloating first, at arriving before he did. Five minutes later asking him if he wanted her to order for him, if he was hungry. Ten more minutes later asking if everything was okay.
Then another ten minutes later asking again if he was okay, where was he?
There were more messages after that, her growing unease palpable in her words, the use of the crying emojis that he liked to tease so much, and then no emojis at all as time had ticked on.
He would tease her for the string of texts, but it was too late for her pride now. She’d lost that when she’d given him the code to her apartment and started stocking his favourite foods for when he showed up starving and delirious after painting nonstop for days, anyways. A needy stream of texts was the least of her concerns, weak ammunition for his sharp words when they both knew she had a drawer dedicated to his clothes whenever he came over.
So she didn’t hesitate to send another message, another ‘where are you? I miss you,’ that made her stomach lurch as she tapped send. She shoved her phone into her pocket before she could think on it, heat flaring in her cheeks, her fingers trembling.
It was from worry, from concern. At least she told herself it was, anyways. She couldn’t bear to think about the alternative, about how she was admitting to something still growing, a planted seed that hadn’t yet begun to sprout. Green shoots vibrant in the soil of her heart, yet too small for her to willingly acknowledge.
Yet, anyways.
They would bloom soon, but there was fear lurking in the shadows between her ribs, in the hidden places between the knots of her muscles. A predator surveying its prey. The sharp prick of teeth as that worry bit into her, refused to let go.
That he did not have the same garden buried within him, that he was not tending to seeds and emerald shoots that promised a technicolour explosion when they unfurled.
She shook herself, trying to dislodge the thought, trying to ignore the stutter of her heart as the fear buried its canines into her flesh. What mattered right now was that Rafayel was nowhere to be found, and the minutes were forever ticking by, and there was not a single response to her embarrassingly long thread of unanswered messages.
Grinding her teeth to try and stop the shake in her hands, she pulled up his contact again. She couldn’t let herself think, absolutely not. Because this would be the icing on the cake, the nail in her coffin. Rafayel could be lying half-dead on the side of the road and finding out she had not only texted him more than twice, but that she had called him, would revive him instantly. If only so he could tease her about it until she could hardly speak from how flushed she became, from how the gears in her mind had ground to a halt.
Although the image of him lying near-death in some ditch made her heart clench, an iron fist clutching it, refusing to allow it to beat.
She tapped the call button, lifted her phone to her ear. There was no way he was lying dead somewhere, absolutely no way.
She listened as the phone rang and rang and rang, the high-pitched ring like a siren sounding in her mind. When finally she heard Rafayel’s voice her heart began to soar, and then just as quickly it plummeted as she realized it was the automatic message for his voicemail, a facsimile of his smile in his recorded voice.
Breath shuddering, she did her best to keep her message brief, hoping her panic didn’t stain her words before she hung up.
Her coffee had long since cooled, turned to ice in her mug, but she drank it without thought as she tried to quell her growing alarm.
It was again without thought that her body moved once more, her mind still swimming, trying to figure out where he could be and why he was late. She packed up her things, shrugged on her jacket, clutching her gloves and the handle of her purse in her hands as she hurried to the door.
Only once she had stepped into the embrace of the winter, stray snowflakes dancing on her cheeks as they were ushered through the air by the wind, sunlight refracting through dripping icicles, casting rainbows against the sides of shops and businesses as she passed by, did she realize she was on her way to his studio.
The cold air sharpened her mind, brought her back to herself. It banished the fog of her anxiety, the path clouded by her fear. She would check his studio first, and if he wasn’t there she would check the beach. And if she still could not find him then she would try to contact Thomas, because surely he would know where Rafayel was, and why he never showed up for their date. Without so much as a text.
She was nodding to herself, her little plan easing the tension holding her taut. She could feel the way her muscles began to loosen, unknot themselves.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Just enough to settle her mind, enough to stop the shaking in her hands.
Although the tremors returned when she arrived at his home, her footsteps echoing through the near cavernous rooms as she searched behind couches and under tables. She threw open doors, pulled back the messy sheets of his bed, tossed pillows to the side, unable to quell the trembling in her bones, the aftershocks of a quake that promised more devastation in their wake.
She was being dramatic and she knew it, but chest heaving, the entire house turned upside down, she began to wonder if her dramatics weren’t that dramatic. Not anymore.
It was so bizarre she pinched herself, wondering if this was a dream brought on by stress, or maybe she was in an alcohol-induced haze from drinking too much on an empty stomach.
But no, the upturned house didn’t melt into a darkened void, she did not feel the beginnings of a migraine as she slowly roused. It was entirely real, which meant Rafayel was entirely missing.
Your plan, she reminded herself, tucking her hands into her pockets as she hurried from the house. Don’t forget your plan.
She was going to check the beach next, in all of the spots he liked best for sketching or daydreaming until the sun melted into the horizon. It was his favourite place to be, where she did often find him when he wasn’t at home.
He would be there. He had to be there.
Yet for all her bluster when she arrived on the sandy shore, the grey of the ocean reaching icy tendrils across the sand, there was nothing. No one. The beach was as barren as her withered hope, nothing but the cry of a lone gull and the heavy thrum of her heart echoing in her ears.
The wind was colder here, and it stung her cheeks, flinging sand and salt into her ears even as she blinked furiously, trying to keep them clear. Her hair whipped through the air, the cold, callous hands of winter raking through it, tugging at it like it might tear it free from her scalp.
Hands red from the cold, shaking from nerves, they fumbled as she tried to retrieve her phone from her pocket. It slipped from her fingers, tumbled into the sand, sinking into the soft ground as the wind keened.
She stared at it, a shiver creeping along her spine. The shine of the screen lighting up washed over the ground, warming the colour of the sand until it seemed to glow gold. It was a notification from one of her mobile games no doubt, a reminder to collect her daily stamina or coins.
She didn’t care to pry it from the sand, instead watching as grains slipped over the sides of the case, collected over the screen. Fatigue washed over like the gentle lap of the ocean waves, her mind little more than seafoam as she stared and stared at her phone.
What was going on today? Why was she in such a panic? Why could she not quell the overdramatic whir of her thoughts, like a carnival ride that was out of control.
She needed to pull herself together. She needed to settle her mind.
The rational part of her mind told her, over and over, screamed it at her from the corner it had been tucked into. But she barely heard it over the cry of that lonely gull, over the thud thud thud of her heart.
But she didn’t do anything that could be described as rational, most of her thoughts a senseless cacophony that was all too easy to drown in.
She sank to the ground, blinking back the sting of sand, the bite of the wind, the unrelenting burn of her tears. All of it gathered in her lashes, painted the world in strange colours and shades, dewdrop silver over ashy grey, blurring to form something new with each blink.
Gathering her legs to her chest, she pressed her face into her knees, intent on staying there until she could calm her racing heart, until she could quell the ache of tears behind her eyes. She was being absurd, ridiculous, but she couldn’t seem to stop. All she could feel was panic, seeping through her like poison in her veins. With each beat of her heart it spread further, until all she could feel was the cold, oily fear running through her, dripping from her like blood from a wound.
She couldn’t bring herself to pick at the wound, to untangle the knotted feelings hidden beneath the sinew and bone. But thankfully it was then, as she was considering it, as understanding rose like a shadow stretching long at dusk, a muffled buzz sounded from her side.
It was soft, near silent with the cry of the wind and the hush of the waves against the shore. But it was incessant, insistent, refusing to be ignored. She could feel the vibrations of the buzzing through the sand, rattling their way through her bones.
It demanded her attention, a familiar feeling that plucked at the strings of her heart. Some of the pressure behind her eyes faded, the tightness on her chest loosening its hold as she looked to her side, to where her phone had fallen into the sand.
The screen was bright as starlight, notifications from an unknown number flashing on the screen, one after the other, piling over each other so she could not read their messages before the next one appeared.
Her phone flashed again, persistent in its demand for her attention, her phone buzzing harder as the unknown number attempted to call.
She stared at it, let it go to voicemail before slowly plucking her phone from the ground, brushing away the grains of sand as her heart waited, seemed to stop entirely.
Barely a breath went by before the number tried to call again, her phone shaking so fervently in her hand she nearly dropped it again. The reverberations kickstarted her heart, sending its beats into a wild sprint, an erratic rhythm that no melody could follow.
She clicked ‘answer’ without thinking, bringing the phone up to her ear, her bottom lip wobbling as she asked, voice thick with unshed tears, “hello?”
“Where are you?!”
She blinked at the familiar voice, at the image of cerulean touched by carmine eyes, the petulant pout tugging down lips, the creases between brows. “Rafayel?”
“Who else? I thought you’d be at the café but you’re not here! Did you forget again?!”
She sniffled, almost laughing at the absurdity of such an accusation. “What are you talking about? I waited for over an hour and you never showed up!”
A huff sounded, and she could see the way he was wrinkling his nose, the way he was tensing his shoulders. “Well where are you now?”
“I went looking for you! You weren’t at home, so I went to check the beach!”
He groaned. “Alright, just stay there, okay? I’ll be there soon.”
Now she couldn’t help but scoff, the first flicker of anger alighting on her bones like fire taking to kindling. “I’ve been waiting for you for ages. You didn’t answer my texts or my calls. Why are you calling from a different number?”
“I’ll explain everything soon, just stay there.”
The line clicked off before she could argue any further, the phone screen going dark.
For a moment she heard nothing, thought nothing. Just stared at the blank screen, at the ocean waves, at the flecks of white of the gulls circling overhead.
Then slowly, like the rush of the high tide, her mind began to buzz, emotions swelling like seafoam, washing away her anxiety, her fear.
What was left was a tangle of things, a knot that would take her a long while to pick apart. Relief and joy and an unnamed ache, all threatening to overwhelm her, to crash over her like a summer storm, like angry waves against stone.
Beneath them all, annoyance, anger. A pyre catching flame, growing brighter, demanding her attention, prickling her frozen fingers with its heat.
There was no way she was staying put.
She stood quickly, shoving her phone in her pocket, not bothering to brush away the sand that clung to her body as she left the beach. She was resolved not to wait any longer, certain that if she did she would catch fire and turn to ash before Rafayel could appear.
She turned a corner, clutching the strap of her purse so tightly her knuckles turned white, chest heavy with that knot of happiness and irritation that had taken root when she’d heard his voice.
It was like a bulb, planted deep in the soft soil of her heart, already beginning to grow, viridescent shoots reaching towards the sky. Eventually it would bloom, petals unfurling towards the sun. But for now it was still growing, not yet ready to unveil itself to her.
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling that heavy weight, so focused on the strangeness of it, and on finding Rafayel, that she didn’t even see him. Not until she was running straight into his side.
“Shi-” She was reeling, stumbling to the side, looking up as she careened backwards to meet his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his breath clouding from his lips as his chest heaved. His hair, normally so perfectly styled, was in a disarray, like he’d raked his hands through it once after rolling from bed and deemed that good enough.
Distantly, she thought it looked like he’d been running.
The ground rushed up to meet her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, cutting off the image of a disheveled Rafayel as she prepared for impact.
An impact that never came.
Arms had wrapped around her, steadying her, firm and warm and gentle. They drew her forward, setting her back on her feet, pulling her against a familiar chest.
Only then did she open her eyes, when she knew she wouldn’t be pinned in place by Rafayel’s smug smirk. When she knew he wouldn’t see the relief and joy in her eyes at seeing him, at hearing the frantic beat of his heart, of being wrapped in his warmth.
Not that hiding stopped her from hearing his soft laughter, the click of his tongue as his fingers splayed over the swell of her hips. She was so desperate for his touch, but she absolutely could not let him know it, especially not right now.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”
His words, lilting with the promise of laughter. She could see his smile without needing to look up, could feel the twinkle in his eyes like she was standing in fizzing starlight.
Something in her snapped, and she took a step back, crossing her arms as though to shield her aching heart. She tilted her head back, glared up at him, the wind brushing against her cheeks reminding her that her tears hadn’t even fully dried yet.
A part of her wondered if she shouldn’t have kept her head lowered, so he wouldn’t see the evidence of her tears, so he wouldn’t see the red, puffy skin around her eyes. But just as quickly as it came, the thought flitted away.
“Last time I ‘stayed put’ you never showed up!”
A muscle flicked in his jaw and he rolled his eyes, groaning in clear exasperation. Which was fine, since she was exasperated too.
She pretended not to notice how he was still breathing hard, how his ears were turning pink, then vermillion the longer she stared. How his manufactured scowl was faltering as his eyes searched her face.
“Where were you?!” She jabbed a finger against his chest and his brows shot up. “I waited for ages. I was worried sick, I’d thought you’d died, or you’d been kidnapped!”
Her hand trembled and she dropped it, shoved it back against her chest. He made a halfhearted attempt to reach for her, his eyes narrowing, his brows drawing low.
“You made me wait for so long!” Her throat was closing up now, all of her twisted feelings rushing out of her, clogging her throat, bubbling into a sob. Her eyes were burning again, and she blinked furiously, cursing herself silently.
“I texted you! I called! Over and over and you never answered!” She threw her hands up, hoping it would distract him from the wobble in her words. God only knew she couldn’t seem to keep it in check. “You left me waiting for so long and you terrified me! What, and then you call me from an unknown number and tell me to ‘stay put?’ Are you serious?”
He scoffed, his cheeks a messy cerise that reminded her of overripe cherries. “Well, this is your fault too!”
“Oh? How exactly?” She was annoyed, hurt. Her heart tangled into itself, twisting into knots of frustration and anger and pain. He was always chastising her for not being early enough, for always being too late. And now he was pushing the blame onto her? When he’d been the one late? When he’d all but abandoned her?
“You should have come looking for me earlier!” He all but cried, throwing his hands up too. His bottom lip was trembling, on the verge of pulling into a pout.
“No, no.” She pointed to his lips, to his pout, to the wrinkle of his nose. “I’m not falling for that! You are the only one to blame. I texted you, I called you, I went looking for you!”
“Why didn’t you check any museums or galleries? Did you even take a look at the news?”
She blinked, her words stolen from her lips, her mind grinding to a halt. His face was flushed, his hair and clothes a disarray, his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed, something she didn’t recognize flickering in their depths.
Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling, as unknowable as the darkest depths of the ocean.
“Are you serious?” Her words came out small, melting in the puff of breath that gathered in the air before her. A contrast so stark from her earlier raised voice it could have been a slap. Tears gathered in her eyes, staining the world in silver, blurring the edges, but she no longer cared if he saw her cry. “Are you actually serious?”
She had spent how long today being utterly terrified for his well being and here he was telling her she hadn’t done enough. Telling her she should have looked for him sooner, should have worked harder to find him.
“I thought we were meeting at the café.” She couldn’t seem to find her strength anymore, wilting beneath his stare. “You’re always early, you’re always telling me I’m late. When you didn’t show I texted you, I called you. I checked your house, I checked the beach. What else was I supposed to do?”
The last of her words came out as little more than a hiss, belied by the crackle of her voice as the sob fought to escape. His expression began to crack beneath their razor sharpness, fractures cutting through his indignation like the shattering of stained glass.
“I went because you wanted to go out.” She swiped the back of her hand over her eyes, taking a step back, refusing to think about the widening of his eyes, the creases in his brow. “You were the one who never showed up, never told me anything.”
There was more she wanted to say, words made of acid that would have surely burned her tongue as she’d given them form. But instead of setting them free, she pressed her lips together, turning away so she did not have to see the hurt on his face, the kicked-puppy pout that usually would have had her falling to her knees as she tried to comfort him.
“I’m suddenly really tired,” she said, staring at the ground, at the stones and remnants of long-dead leaves scattered on the sidewalk. “So I’m going to head home. I’ll talk to you later.”
She took one step, then another, muscles tensing as she forced herself to move, to not look back. If she looked back she would fall apart beneath whatever heartbroken expression he had schooled his face into.
Cold winter air swept into the growing chasm between them, freezing claws scrabbling down her spine, making her shudder. She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to quell the shivers, but just as quickly as the whole of winter had descended on her in his absence, warmth enveloped her again.
Rafayel’s hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist and dragging her back. Like a wound stitched close, the space between them vanished, winter making way for spring.
“Rafayel.” She was knocked breathless by the sudden movement, even as a part of her mind told her she should struggle, should shake off his grip.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was firm, kind, the edges melting into regret. “I’m sorry, I took it too far. I didn’t-”
She blinked, watching quietly as he ducked his head, feeling the unsteady beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest with every deep breath. Her eyes still burned, and the tears gathered in her lashes caught the light, turning the edges of the world into a silver blur.
When he looked up again his eyes were wide, earnest. She had gotten used to his moods, to the shifts in his eyes, his mouth, a change in how his voice lilted and his eyes danced. But this wasn’t like all those times before, when he would feign distress and hurt, when he would exaggerate his emotions until she caved.
This was different, more like the quiet moments between breaths, when he bared a hidden part of himself to her. When the air grew heavy and quiet, when his voice turned lullaby soft. She always felt tucked close to him, even if there was space between them, like she had nestled herself in his heart, like he had given it to her to make it her home.
His words would be genuine then, no teasing, no jokes. There would be no razor sharp comments, no snarky retorts. Just him, trusting her as he laid down his armour, his mask, vulnerable only to her.
Sometimes he would be sweet, kind, murmuring gentle words that made her heart sing. And others he would look lost, his voice faraway, as though he’d been caught up in an undertow and dragged out to sea.
It felt like that now, his voice steady, ardent. There was a solemnity in his eyes, no flicker of laughter, no glimmer of playfulness to be found. The blue of his eyes darkened, the red fading like flames being doused, drowned.
He wasn’t messing around with her any longer, no hint of that petulant pout or his puppy-dog eyes to be found. His mouth was set, a line forming between his brows as they drew low.
It anchored her to the spot, the tenor of his voice from the beginning of his apology alone, the shift in his countenance as he grew somber.
Rafayel squeezed the hand he’d pressed to his heart, as though he hoped it would prove his sincerity as she felt its rhythm pulse through her bones.
“I didn’t think about how you felt. I was only thinking about myself.” He didn’t look away now, instead holding her gaze fast, leaning closer. “I wanted you to find me and rescue me, but you were the one who needed rescuing.”
When she did not move from him he grew bolder, fingers lacing with hers, head bowing until his bangs tickled her brow. “I’m always asking you to stay, but I was the one who abandoned you. I made you worry, didn’t I?”
She didn’t trust herself to speak right now, not when anger still churned hot as a firestorm, when the last of sourness of worry finally eased and her belly no longer roiled with it, when he was so close her knees felt like jelly and her skin prickled from his breath.
The desire to forgive him spilled through her like champagne bubbling through cracks in crystal. He was so close, so warm, and he smelled so nice, and she hated being angry with him. She wanted to lean her head on his shoulder and close her eyes and breathe in the smell of his cologne. She wanted to tell him he was forgiven and melt into his embrace.
As much as she whined and railed against his unending demands, his last minute day-plans, his surprise visits to her home, she missed him when he wasn’t there. He had become the sun lighting the world each morning, the susurrus of the wind through the trees, the hush of the ocean as it foamed against the beach. She felt like a flower reaching through frozen ground, small and weak, petals still clinging together, but growing stronger beneath golden sunlight, each moment closer and closer to blooming, to filling the world with her colour.
But whatever scraps of rationality remained held her still, reminded her that she could not just forgive him so easily, especially not when he had not yet finished his apology. Her tears were not yet dry on her cheeks, not yet fully spilled. They were still gathered in her lashes, still burning behind her eyes. A headache was beginning to spread from the pressure of it, pulsing against her skull, in her temples.
No, she could not give in to the ache in her heart, yearning so terribly to throw herself into his arms that it felt like it was pushing against the cage of her ribs, fighting against the prison it was trapped in.
She nodded in response to his question, keeping her mouth firmly closed. If she opened it then her resolve would crumble and forgiveness would fall from her tongue, so she said nothing instead.
The lines in his face deepened, and now his eyes did slide down, focused on his shoes, or the pavement, or perhaps on nothing at all. His shoulders slumped, curving inwards. If he were a painting she would have titled him ‘remorse’ for how heavy it hung on him, pressing down on his body like it could break him against the sidewalk. He seemed to fade, amethyst hair fading to lilac, tinging with grey. His eyes dimmed, waning like the moon before it vanished from the night’s sky.
He looked back up slowly, the movements of his eyes shadowed by his other hand, gently coming to rest on her cheek. “I made you cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Well you did.” She snapped, then quickly bit her tongue, before anything more could escape her lips.
His brows rose, drew together. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair, or kind to you at all. This is all my fault, I should have reached out to you sooner.”
Now she was the one looking away, withering beneath his earnest gaze. “You should have. I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped, or hurt somewhere all alone.”
His touch was gentle, the pad of his thumb wiping away the tears on her cheek, gathered in the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you worry, for today, for everything.”
She said nothing, although she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, just a little.
“If you still want to go home, at least let me walk you back.” He spoke softer now, hesitant, something hidden behind his words.
Please still spend time with me, please don’t leave me yet. Please say you want to stay with me.
She mulled it over for a moment, picking apart his words like a necklace chain knotted together. Her heart pressed against her ribs, uncaring that it would be shred by the breaking of her bones. It only wanted him, to be near him, and the aching that built in the cavity of her chest was far too strong for anything else.
She did want to forgive him, and she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to spend the day with him, something she’d been looking forward to when they’d made plans the day before.
Although he wasn’t off the hook quite yet.
She lifted her eyes, finding hope in his gaze as she met it, held it as steady as she could.
“I think I’m feeling a little better,” she said. His eyes widened, hope sparking warmth in them once more. “So I don’t think I want to go home just yet.”
The corners of his mouth curved upwards, the first hint of sunlight cresting over the horizon. “In that case, we could find another café, or a restaurant if you’d like an early dinner.”
She narrowed her eyes, even as the first strains of a melody began in her heart, elation blooming at seeing his smile, at knowing she would be spending the rest of the day with him. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, Rafayel.”
His brow arched. “Rafayel? Not ‘love?’ Not ‘darling?’ Not ‘baby?’”
She arched her brow, tipping her head back, away from the hand that had been cupping her cheek. “I think you have a lot more apologizing to do before you get those privileges back. Rafayel.”
He sighed, shaking his head. Despite the rejection, his lips were still curving up, his smile turning playful. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Mhmmm.” She tried to pull her other hand back, the one still firmly held to his chest, but he held that hand tightly, smirking. “Rafayel, you can let go now.”
“And what if I don’t want to?” He cocked his head to the side, all mischief now. His fingers tightened around hers as he brought her palm up, as he pressed his lips to her palm. “What if I want to keep holding it?”
She huffed, ignoring the heat in her cheeks as his teeth scraped against her hand, as his tongue flicked over the spots where he’d nipped.
Rafayel, however, did not ignore it, and she knew it as she felt his smile grow wider.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She’d meant to grind out the words, to sound annoyed, but it came out softer, quivering as the warmth from his lips made its way through her veins, coiled low in her belly.
He chuckled, lowering her hand from her lips, although he did not let go. His fingers remained twined with hers, keeping her close. “What do you think? I’m making it up to you.”
“You can’t just-” Her voice cracked, squeaked, and she bit her tongue as his brows rose high, delight dancing like firelight in his eyes. “You can’t just kiss my hand and expect things to be alright!”
She sped through her words, stumbling in her haste to speak as her voice wobbled and cracked, uneven and weak from his lips, from the heat blooming in her core and the feeling of her body slowly turning to jelly.
For his part, Rafayel did not tease, although his expression told her that he had taken everything into account; her rushed words, her crackling voice, her flushed face, all of it noted by his keen eyes.
“That’s only the first part,” he said, sounding on the verge of laughter. “I promise I’ll make things better.” Then his voice softened, a delicate caress to her traitorous heart. “Just let me keep holding your hand.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. She had to look away so he wouldn’t see the colour deepen in her cheeks, not as the heat flared, bonfire bright, beneath her skin. She was certain that if she looked up she would combust, leaving nothing but ash on the sidewalk.
Rafayel seemed to find her answer satisfactory, as he murmured a delighted “let’s go” before tugging her forward.
Her curiosity got the better of her as he continued to beam, and she tapped his side as they walked. “Where are we going?”
“Well we had made plans to go to a café, and there’s a new one not far from here I’ve been meaning to visit.”
She let him drag her along, tucking her hand into his jacket pocket when the wind whistled past them and shivers arced across her like lightning. She was still annoyed, but she wouldn’t deny the joy that spread rosy fingers like the blushing of dawn through her heart, or the warmth that blanketed her as he kept her close. He was here, he was safe, he was smiling.
She would have to blame the wind for her ruddy cheeks, for how difficult it was to catch her breath.
And thankfully, Rafayel did not comment on it, although his eyes did brighten, round shimmering pools of light assessing the colour in her face, the breathless gasps from her lips.
“Not much further,” he said, his lips caught in a pleased smirk.
She rolled her eyes, deciding it best not to comment. Surely whatever she said he would find a way to twist, to use as a weapon to tease her with.
But this too, was enough for him. “What’s wrong? Too cold to speak?” His smirk only widened, a sharp slice across his lips as one brow quirked high. “We’re almost there, but do you need me to warm you? Would it count as part of my penance?”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond before tugging her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. He ducked his head, lips grazing the shell of her ear, and shivers cascaded down her spine, having nothing to do with the cold wind.
“Although,” he breathed, sending goosebumps across her skin. “I don’t particularly mind. If you need me to do things like this then I think I’ll enjoy this very much.”
“Things like this?” He was being awfully brazen considering the circumstances.
He drew back, beaming, looking far too smug. “Like snuggling.”
She yanked her hand from his pocket, pinching his side. “Watch it!”
He yelped, but only tried to draw her closer, like her presence was a comfort, a balm to the sharp pain she’d inflicted on him.
She struggled against his hold, if only slightly. She was far too besotted to truly fight to escape his arms.
“Don’t be like that,” he whined, lips pulling into a pout. “I’m cold too, you know. Just because you’re mad doesn’t mean we both have to be punished.”
Huffing, she crossed her arms, refusing to tuck herself so closely against him. But she also didn’t untangle herself from him entirely, either. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not that cold.”
“You don’t have to lie.” He laughed, pulling her closer. “You’re shivering, I can feel it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.
He clicked his tongue. Something strange flitted in his eyes, but it was gone in a breath, no more than a shadow flickering over him as they walked. “You can be such a princess about things.”
“Oh? And what about it?”
“Whatever pleases you, your highness.” He bowed his head, smirking. His bangs fell over his eyes so she could not see them, but she could feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of it. “I am but your humble servant.”
She couldn’t help giggling then, covering her mouth as she snorted. “Come on Rafayel, stand up, you’re going to run into someone.”
“Only at your highness’ command.” He tipped his head to the side, and she caught sight of the glitter in his eyes, twin pools shining as brightly as sunlight caught in diamonds.
“Rafayel!” There was no stopping the snorts now as she grabbed his arm with both hands, tugging him to the side before he ran straight into a streetlamp. “You’re going to get hurt!”
His lips lifted higher, creases forming around his eyes. “If that’s what you wish, your highness.”
She had to look away, pressing her lips together in a vain attempt to stifle her laughter. “What I want is for you to stand up so you don’t get hurt!”
“Your highness is most benevolent.” He straightened, mischief alight like flames in his eyes, his smile. He looked so boyish, so delighted, that she wanted to squish the apples of his cheeks beneath her palms.
“Well, we’ll see,” she said, barely able to contain the urge to squeeze his face. She was pretty sure if she gave in then he would win.
Win what she wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling. It was one of her favourite things to do, squeezing his cheeks when she was overwhelmed with joy at seeing his face. If she did it now he would undoubtedly take it as being forgiven entirely, and so she could not.
As she was musing to herself, his arm remained securely around her, slowly bringing her closer and closer until their sides pressed together. She made no comment, allowing them both this, and as he guided her through the doorway of the café, regret twinged in her heart.
She would have been content to walk next to him for hours, and she wished the café had been further away, so she could have remained close to him for a while longer.
Rafayel brought her to a spot in the corner of the cozy space, a small window just above it, honey-warm sunlight pouring over the tabletop. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs for her, gesturing for her to sit.
“For you, my lady.” He was clearly enjoying himself.
She made to pinch him again, but he was quick, anticipating the attack. He snatched her wrist, lifting it up as he grinned wider. “I’m trying to be so good, so why can’t you behave yourself?”
Now she was the one pouting, trying to wiggle her hand from his grasp. “You’re teasing me.”
“Oh? How?” He schooled his expression into one of innocence, his eyes widening until they were saucer-round. All of it was belied by the twitch of his lips, his devious smile too strong to be smothered behind a mask. “I’m just trying to be helpful, your highness. I’m pretty sure princesses don’t pull out their own chairs.”
She tried to pinch him with her free hand, but he caught that one too, his faux innocence falling away. He smiled, all devilish delight, his eyes bright even as they narrowed. He tugged her closer, his breath ghosting over her lips as he lowered his head.
“Nice try,” he sang, bringing her hands to his lips, brushing a kiss against the back of each. “Now why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you a treat, okay?”
He spoke in a sing-song cadence, like he was barely holding back laughter. But there was something underneath his words, and she found herself sitting when he released her, glowering at his grin.
“I won’t keep you waiting long,” he said, squeezing her shoulder before turning to go.
He paused then, turning back around, his expression a fragment more serious.
“One more thing.” He slid his jacket from his arms, draping it over her before she could ask what he was doing.
With a satisfied nod, he gave her one last smile before heading to the counter to make their orders.
She felt impatient, restless, as she watched him from across the café. Part of her worried that she would blink and he would vanish, gone once more. But he remained where she could see him, an anchor keeping her steady in a storm.
“Did something catch your eye?” He asked as he returned to the table, setting a plate in front of her, a slice of cake with a deep red strawberry balanced on top and a chocolate cookie bigger than her hand.
“What’s this?” She asked, ignoring his knowing smirk. “Two whole sweets for me?”
He nodded, reaching out to brush her hair back from her face. “As part of my apology.”
“You’re going to have to do more than that to make up for today,” she said, even as she took the fork he handed her. “But it’s a start.”
He chuckled, nodding his head. “As you wish, your highness.”
“You’ve got to stop with the ‘your highness’ thing,” she said, heat beginning to spread across her face anew. It felt a little silly, something strange and intimate to be called it so loudly in public.
He cocked his head to the side, contemplative as he watched her. “You don’t like it?”
He almost sounded a little sad, and her heart twinged again.
Her heart was a traitorous thing, summoning words that tumbled free from her lips before she could give them thought, trying to wipe away the sadness she had heard.
“No that’s not it,” she said, stumbling over her words. “It just-”
Her breath caught as he gripped the back of her chair with one hand, leaning closer with that infuriating smirk still plastered across his face. “Oh? Then what is it?”
“It… It’s…” She swallowed, trying to look away. But he was everywhere, so close that he became her whole world. Everywhere she looked was Rafayel and his smile and his bright eyes. “It just feels like you’re teasing me with it, you know? Like you’re making fun of me.”
“Would it be so bad if I was?” His voice lowered, a warm tenor that had her toes curling, sending butterfly wings flitting through her stomach. “You’ve been so unforgiving, can’t I tease my princess a little?”
“Rafayel-” She didn’t get a chance to finish her thought before he was pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and hurrying away, calling to her about fetching their drinks while her brain shut down like an aging computer.
She couldn’t seem to get herself to think, her brain still buffering when he returned with the drinks. The click of a mug settled before her drew her from the fog he had cast over her, if only slightly.
“There were a lot of drinks I thought you’d like, but I think you’ll like this one best,” he said, seeming entirely unfazed by his surprise attack.
Wasn’t he supposed to be making things up to her? What did teasing her have anything to do with making up for abandoning her earlier?
She continued to stare, scrabbling to find even a single thought. Her skin where his lips had touched burned, still warm from his touch, and all she could smell was his cologne and the faint touch of his soap. She could feel the tickle of his hair against her face, the curl of his breath against her lips.
It was all far too much for her. She would surely melt into a puddle, her body giving way to the heat he had kindled in her.
For his part, Rafayel seemed entirely unperturbed, although she was much too flustered to notice the crimson that had flared on the tips of his ears and dusted along his cheeks. He gave her an encouraging smile, nodding with his head towards her mug. “Well? Try it, tell me what you think.”
She blinked, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ as her hands wrapped around the mug. She brought it to her lips, warm sweetness blooming on her tongue. Sweet, delicious, with a touch of floral notes beneath it.
She took another sip before she set the mug back down, a comforting warmth spreading through her chest, reaching along her arms and into her fingertips.
“It’s very good,” she said, smiling up at him, lost for a moment in the bliss of a warm drink and sweet treats and him across from her.
His own drink remained untouched, although his hands wrapped around it, lithe fingers drumming against the porcelain. “I’m glad you like it. Perhaps this means I’m one step closer to forgiveness.”
She rolled her eyes, taking another sip. It really was good, and although she was not planning to admit it yet, he really was a step closer to being forgiven.
Already was, if she was honest, but she was going to milk this for a while yet.
“Alright, you’ve bought me food, and a warm drink. Now I want to know what happened.”
He opened his mouth, breathing in as if preparing to launch into his tale, but she held her hand up to quiet him before he could.
“And I want the truth, Rafayel.” No melodrama, no embellishing.
“Alright, alright.” He lifted his hands, palms towards her, in surrender. “I won’t paint myself as a hero who boldly rescued a child from a wanderer attack.”
Her heart stopped. “Was there a wanderer?”
Panic must have shown on her face, because he shook his head quickly, his smile only slightly teasing. “No, nothing like that.”
“You’re awful,” she huffed, staring out the window, focusing on the remains of what was surely a very pretty garden in the spring and summer. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“Is it my fault you believed me?” He reached out to poke her, earning a scowl that had him laughing. “I did say I won’t paint myself as a hero.”
She didn’t respond, staunchly staring out the window, refusing to meet his gaze.
The sound of his chair squeaking as he sighed, drew her attention, and she peeked from the corner of her eye to see him slouching, the pad of one finger running along the rim of his mug. “I got a call from Thomas earlier today, there was a gallery featuring some of my work, and a number of ‘fans’ were insistent on speaking with me themselves.”
It was the way he rolled his eyes when he said “fans” that told her exactly what kind of event this was, exactly the sort of people in attendance.
It was the type of thing he loathed the most, and no doubt these “fans” were wealthy art collectors who waxed on about his paintings without knowing a thing about them.
She turned back towards him, dropping her veneer of irritation. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come with you.”
He shrugged, looping two fingers around the handle of the mug, twisting it back and forth on the surface of the table. “I thought I would just go and answer a few questions then pretend I got a phone call and leave. I didn’t want to drag you into it today.” He flicked his eyes up, mischievous. “You’re always running late, so I didn’t want to distract you and make you ever more late.”
“I’m not late,” she snapped. “It’s just that you’re always early, and you’re so impatient.”
“Me? Impatient.” He snorted, lifting his mug to his lips, his eyes watching her over the rim. “I’m the epitome of patient. It’s a virtue, you know.”
“Exactly,” she deadpanned. “You’re not exactly a paragon of virtue, Rafayel.”
He groaned, although it was undercut by the twitching of his lips as he set his mug to the side. “I know you’re mad, but don’t you think you can hold off on disparaging my character?”
She pressed her lips together to stifle her smile, nodding at him to continue. “I’m sorry. Please go on.”
“Thank you.” He huffed, taking a quick sip of his drink. “Anyways, as I was saying. I didn’t want to distract you, and I thought I could handle it myself.”
As it happened, it was not something he had been able to handle on his own.
She listened as he explained what had happened, about how he had walked straight into a lion’s den of overzealous critics and collectors alike. How he had been inundated with their questions and demands like they were a flood, a storm that had torn him from his feet, left him dizzy and disoriented.
She broke off pieces of her cookie as he talked, passing him pieces as he told her how there had been no clocks in the gallery, and each time he had reached for his phone someone had very nearly grabbed him to try and redirect his attention.
“The third time it happened it fell right out of my hand.” He shifted, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone.
Or rather, what was left of it.
The screen was cracked, near shattered, showing bars of colour, like the rainbow glow of oil over water. She could see the back of the phone was in just as poor a condition, pieces of the hardware hanging on for dear life.
“And then someone stepped on it,” he continued as she gaped at the remains of his phone. He rolled his eyes, plucking it from the table and tucking it back into his pocket. “Not that the person who stepped on it offered to buy me a new one, either.”
She handed him the last piece of her cookie, thinking that was the end of things.
“And then there was a robbery.”
She coughed, having only just taken the first bite of her cake. It tasted like ash, clogging in her throat as she gaped, eyes bulging from their sockets.
“Hey, don’t choke to death.” He passed her mug to her, and she drank quickly, dislodging the cake.
“Thank you,” she managed, covering her mouth, embarrassment making her face hot and scratchy.
Rafayel nodded, quiet as he scanned her face. His tone had been light when he’d passed her drink to her, his expression casual. But now that she could breathe she could see the flicker of worry in his eyes, the lines etching around his mouth and into his brow as he confirmed she was alright.
She cleared her throat, pointing at him with her fork. “So there was a robbery?”
He blinked, caught off guard as he stumbled through his words. “Yeah-yeah, right. Alarms started going off, and at first we thought it was a fire.”
Evidently it had not been a fire, as he regaled her with all the details. Of the critics and collectors panicking, a stampede of the exceptionally wealthy clawing at each other to escape. Of Rafayel noticing one of the visitors acting strangely, slipping further into the gallery while everyone else desperately tried to escape.
Contrary to his earlier promise, Rafayel did paint himself as a hero, catching the robbers and incapacitating them until the police arrived. But when she pulled out her own phone to validate his story, she saw several articles already detailing how the renowned artist Rafayel had saved an entire gallery and its patrons from the thieves.
For that she offered him a bite of her cake, and he accepted it with a grin, the tips of his ears darkening to crimson.
By the time he was done his story, her coffee had long-since been finished, nothing but dregs at the bottom of the mug, and there was only one piece of cake remaining on her plate.
“So what you’re saying is…” She trailed off, slicing that final piece of cake in two, spearing a piece and lifting it into the air. “That from now on you’re always going to call me before you go to any event like this, right?”
“Obviously.” He eyed the piece of cake on her fork. “I don’t know what I was thinking, not bringing you with me. I need my bodyguard to keep me safe.”
She extended her arm, offering him the cake. “I think I would much rather you call me to accompany you somewhere like that then be worried you’ve been hurt, or worse.”
Icing smudged at the corner of his lip as he accepted the final bite, a brow quirking while he chewed. He said nothing, but it was enough to make her face flame, and she quickly took the last bite, staring out the window so she didn’t have to meet his gaze.
“Hey.”
Reluctantly, she turned. When she met his eyes her heart stumbled, fell, like she had been pushed from a cliff’s edge. His eyes were earnest, sad, and when he reached out to cover her hand, she twisted her fingers through his, holding tight like they were both caught in a storm.
“I really am sorry.” He squeezed her hand, leaning forward. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. The last thing I want to do is make you cry.” His brow arched then, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. “At least, not for that reason.”
“Rafayel.” A firestorm raged beneath her skin and she yanked her hand away like she’d been scalded. She tucked it against her side as she crossed her arms, slumping in her seat. “You are unbelievable.”
He chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning forward on the table. “I’m glad you think so.”
When she frowned he only laughed harder, head bowed over as his shoulders shook.
She would be lying if she said the urge to laugh along with him didn’t rise in her, bubbling like fizzing wine gone straight to her head. All of her anxieties and fears gone, Rafayel safe in front of her, the taste of sugar on her tongue, the icing smeared on the corner of his lip.
All of it was so mundane, so simple, and yet it felt like something from a dream, like a scene in a fairytale when the hero realized they were falling in love.
The thought made her stomach twist, her heart beating hummingbird quick. She was thankful that he was looking down, that he wouldn’t see the thought flashing across her face before she could school her expression into one of annoyance again.
After a few moments his laughter began to ebb, like the tide being drawn back out to sea. He straightened, revealing flushed cheeks the colour of dawn, eyes bright as stars wrought of sapphire and ruby. His smile still lingered, although it was softer now.
“Sorry,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “Probably not the best time for a joke like that.”
Normally she would have responded with a sharp rejoinder, making her next strike in the unending clash of their words. She teased him and he responded in kind, he made a sharp comment and her response was sharp as steel.
But she was still half-lost to the fairytale feeling from before, his laughter echoing through her. She could feel it in the hollows of her bones, the sound guiding her through the fog in her mind.
She held his gaze, although her mind strayed as it took note of his ruffled hair, too far gone to think of something sharp and clever to say to him. It was still a mess from earlier, when she’d run into him. It stood up at awkward angles, and his bangs had fallen strangely over his brow, and his cowlick seemed more prominent as hair flicked upwards around it.
“Rafayel,” she said, putting her weight on her forearm as she rested it against the table, leaning closer. “Stay still for a second.”
His eyes widened, his face the colour of cerise, of spilled cherry juice staining fingertips. She could feel his breath, soft and warm, curling against her wrist as she carefully shifted his hair, smoothing his bangs over his brow, brushing back the errant strands sticking up strangely.
He didn’t move, tracking her movements with his eyes. His breath seemed to catch, stutter, fanning over her skin as he tried to steady himself.
It all took less than five minutes, his hair returned to its usual state of looking roguishly tousled while being perfectly styled.
She gave one final nod of approval, appraising her work, tucking one final strand of hair behind his ear.
“There we go,” she said, nodding to herself. “All better now.”
Lightning quick, just as she began to pull away, to sit back in her chair, Rafayel reached for her wrist, catching it and drawing it back to the side of his face.
She gasped, lurching forward at the suddenness of it all. “Rafayel? What’s wrong?”
Only then did she meet his eyes, his expression making her breath catch. His eyes, wide and glassy, his breath, coming out in short gasps, his face, a mess of crimson and scarlet and vermillion like he’d been splattered by his own paints.
He brought her hand to his cheek, her skin tingling as his breath ghosted against her palm, the inside of her wrist. Her gaze fell to his lips, so close they could kiss her if he wanted to.
He didn’t answer, sighing instead, sending goosebumps racing along her arm. He leaned his face into her palm, settling against her cupped hand so perfectly it felt like fate, like he had been made to be held in her hands.
Lungs constricting, unable to draw in air, she felt dizzy, the world softening until it was nothing more than static. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut, felt his lashes tickle her palm. Again, he sighed, and it sounded strange, so much yearning and contentment in the quiet hush of his voice that pain radiated through her, like her heart had finally broken free from the cage of her ribs and had let itself be torn to pieces in the process.
When his eyes opened once again they flicked up, searching for her, watching her. There was so much need and desperation in his gaze, like he had longed for her touch, needed it. Like he needed her to breathe.
She wanted to say his name again, wanted to cup his face with both hands and let him rest. She wanted to hold him to her chest and run her fingers through his hair, ruining her hard work, all so the melancholy in his eyes would melt away. She wanted nothing but happiness in his eyes, his heart, wanted to hold him close until whatever ache in him was gone.
He had upset her so terribly, and yet she wanted nothing more than to keep him close, to hold him, to cradle him against her heart so he was safe and content.
Yet no words rose to her tongue, remaining buried deep as she watched him, as he watched her in kind. She wanted to tell him all these things, the seeds that were planted in her heart.
But how could she? What words could she use to explain it all?
Her lips parted, yet nothing but air passed between them, quiet as the murmuration of wind through branches still waiting for their leaves.
His brows hiked higher, creases forming around his eyes as they crinkled. He was smiling, she was sure of it, but it was soft as the light at dawn, as feather down. Soft as blankets wrapped around her shoulders in the cool air of the morning, as the feel of his lips on her cheek when she was only half-awake.
It was blurry and hazed, softened like memories half-remembered and cradled in her heart. She would have liked to see that smile again, to summon it on quiet days and shadowed nights, to make his eyes dance as his lips curved like the first touch of the sun over the horizon.
“Baby?” His voice was sweet as honey, as spun sugar melting on her tongue. It was a sigh like a spring breeze, like the wind dancing across the ocean.
“Hmm?” She smoothed back his bangs again with her free hand as they flopped forward, obscuring his eyes. She wanted to see them, wanted to lose herself in their depths.
He nuzzled her palm again, letting out another sigh before brushing his lips against her skin. His eyes closed halfway, seemed to darken as he kept them fixed on hers.
It wasn’t until his eyes opened wide again, his cheek settling in the curve of her palm, that he spoke, his breath curling against her skin.
“Am I forgiven?”
And with that the spell he had cast was broken, although the buzz of warmth in her heart remained, like sunshine itself had begun to bloom in her.
She dropped the hand that had been fixing his hair, the other still captive in his grip. He was still smiling, though it was sharper now, the beginnings of a smirk peeking through.
It made her want to tell him no, to give him a cool glare that could freeze the ocean over. He looked smug, so satisfied with himself for enchanting her so easily with his lips and his breath and his pretty eyes.
Her heart was a traitor, making it impossible to hold out against him. And the worst was that he knew it, too.
And yet even knowing how her own heart was betraying her, crumbling her resolve, even knowing that Rafayel was trying to toy with her, she could not find it in herself to be cold, to be sharp.
Maybe it was from the dredges of warmth that remained, or perhaps it was because she really had forgiven him, because she couldn’t find it in herself to continue being annoyed. The desire to be petulant, to playact indignation, shrivelled like leaves cut loose from their tree, flung far from the roots.
Although she wanted to tease him a while longer, if only as vengeance for all the times he’d teased her.
She hummed, lifting her free hand once more, stroking his cheek as he watched her. His eyes were bright, confident that he had been well and truly forgiven after a few desserts and playful kisses.
So when she pinched his cheek she watched as shock took over, like a tidal wave washing against the shore. Pink stained his cheeks, then crimson, his face a mess of colour. His lips fell open, in surprise at first, then quickly recovering so he was pouting once more.
“You’re almost forgiven,” she said, giving his cheek one last tug before letting go, smoothing the tips of her fingers over the spot that was the darkest red.
“Almost?” He sounded almost amused, undercutting his sweet pout.
“Almost,” she repeated. His grip loosened on her hand and she was finally able to pull away, settling in her seat once more. “In fact, I might just forgive you by the end of the day.”
He huffed, lowering his head until she could hardly see his eyes from beneath the curtain of his bangs. “After everything I’ve gone through today, you’re still being mean to me?”
“I’m not being mean!” She crossed her arms, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “I just think you’ll have to work a little bit harder for my forgiveness.”
He flopped back, throwing an arm over his face as he sighed, all melodrama and histrionics. “You’re as bad as those art collectors, trying to work me to the bone.”
Now she really had to focus to stop herself from laughing, especially as he peaked from beneath his arm, trying to gauge her reaction. “Nothing will be enough for you, will it?”
“That depends!” She reached for her empty cup, hoping to hide her smile behind the rim as she feigned taking a sip.
“Human greed is boundless,” he whined, managing to fall back even more. His head was practically hanging from the back of the chair, giving the impression of a ragdoll tossed aside. “What will you have me do? Will you make me cry and steal the pearls? Will you make me tear my scales off as penance?”
“Rafayel.” She really couldn’t help laughing at his theatrics, leaning across the table to reach for his hand. “Rafayel, please look at me.”
He straightened, if only slightly, fixing a sulky glare on her from beneath the shadow of his arm.
“Haven’t you had enough of me?” His bottom lip began quivering, the perfect picture of abject misery.
In another life he would have made an amazing actor. She could see him on a stage, wailing in agony as orchestral music swelled.
The image brought a smile to her face and she had to stifle it quickly, lest he use it against her.
His cheeks puffed out as he continued to glower at her, as surely as a toddler’s on the cusp of a tantrum, crocodile tears shining at the corners of his eyes.
He didn’t pull away as she leaned further forward, her stomach practically flush with the tabletop as she finally took one of his hands. “Nothing so severe, baby.”
He perked up, arm sliding away from his face, fingers twining with hers as he sat up straight.
She hadn’t just called him Rafayel, but baby; her love, her darling, her heart.
A step closer to forgiveness.
Still, he kept up his gloomy expression, very little needed to bring the tears back into his eyes. She imagined needing only a small gust of wind ruining his hair, or perhaps a splatter of coffee staining his sleeve, to bring his tears back to the forefront, to make him dissolve into a near tantrum again.
His nose scrunched, eyes narrowed, but his hand remained firmly wrapped in hers. “What were you thinking, then?”
“I want to go to the arcade,” she said, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand in small circles. “I want you to win me some new plushies.”
The corners of his lips twitched, the lines in his face smoothing away. “So you want me to earn your forgiveness by going on a date with you?”
“No.” She answered too quickly, too sharp, and she watched with her heart thudding like a stampede and her stomach tumbling over and over itself, as Rafayel’s lips curved upwards, smug and adorable, infuriating and precious all at the same time.
She cleared her throat, pulling back so at least she was sitting, so at least she looked a little less desperate. “No, I want you to prove yourself! Through battle!”
“Against the claw machines?” He was the one leaning forward now, drawn towards her by their connected hands.
“Yes.” His eyes were bright as starlight across water, his voice lilting like a melody. “And I want you to pay for everything. To make up for the emotional damages from earlier.”
He laughed, warm and bright, sunshine washing over her face, birdsong and flower petals in the wind. He was spring, thawing the last of winter from her heart. “I didn’t realize my absence would cause such distress.”
Now she was glowering, relaxing her grip and trying to free her hand from his.
But Rafayel was fast, and strong, and he held onto her tightly, leaning even further over the table, her hand captive in his. “Don’t be like that. Your face is going to get stuck like that if you keep frowning, you know.”
She did not stop frowning.
He pouted, bringing her hand to his face, rubbing his cheek against her fingertips. “Aw, come on, sweetheart, don’t I get to see your smile?”
She furrowed her brows as deeply as she could, wrinkled her own nose. “Win me some plushies first.”
He brought her fingers to his lips, lips brushing against them as he spoke. “As you wish, your highness.”
Like fire to kindling, she erupted in heat, any strength she’d had in her limbs vanishing. She could not even hold onto her glare, and she felt as her face relaxed, as a nervous giggle escaped her lips.
Brows rising, Rafayel’s eyes tracked the shift in her face. She would have pulled away from him to avoid any teasing, had she the strength to do so anymore, but she was caught as surely as a fish in a net.
He refused to let go as he stood, dragging her to her feet with him. “Shall we? I know some pretty good arcades around here.”
She couldn’t argue with him, letting him tug her like a ragdoll from the café, a pleased smirk plastered to his face.
“You know you probably shouldn’t look so smug,” she said once the cold winter air against her face, snapping her back to her senses. “Considering you’re supposed to be doing this as an apology.”
All he did was shrug, his smile widening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Rafayel, you’re literally smiling right now.”
At that he frowned. “Am I not your baby anymore?”
“You sure are acting like a baby,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes.
“What was that?” He leaned closer, a roguish light entering his eyes.
It was so sudden that she took a step away, her face burning despite the cold air caressing her cheeks. “Oh nothing.”
He hummed, not believing her in the least, but he continued on his way, that self-satisfied smile returning to his lips quickly.
She rolled her eyes again, pinching his side. “But really, you shouldn’t look so happy about having to make up for abandoning me this morning.”
“I didn’t abandon you,” he retorted, his voice rising an octave. “And anyways, can’t I be happy that you still want to spend time with me?”
“It’s not a date.” He hadn’t said it was, but she felt the need to make it clear. If not to him then to her own heart, which hadn’t stopped fluttering as furiously as hummingbird wings. “You’re making it up to me.”
He gave her hand a squeeze as he tilted his head back, regarding her from the corners of his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!”
At the spread of his smile she cursed, looking away. She really had to stop answering so quickly, so sharply. She was giving herself away.
Thankfully, perhaps because he knew he did have much to make up for, Rafayel let it drop, although he hummed an upbeat melody as they walked, his pleased smile never leaving his face.
A blast of warmth greeted them as they stopped in front of one of her favourite arcades, the door thrown wide from a gaggle of teenagers leaving with their spoils.
Rafayel snagged the door with his free hand, releasing her only to press his hand to the small of her back, ushering her inside ahead of him. “After you, your highness.”
“I’m going to make you buy me a tiara at this rate,” she grumbled, hurrying inside so Rafayel could follow.
He clicked his tongue, taking her hand again and heading down the aisles of games, searching for the claw machines. “If you want a tiara, I’d rather make you one myself. None of the others would be good enough.”
She quirked a brow. “Since when do you know how to make tiaras? Did you learn metalworking in another life?”
His grin was wide, toothy, the points of his incisors looking sharp in the light. “I’m a man of many talents.”
She squeezed his hand, swinging it gently. “Really? What else can you do?”
“Why? Planning to make some demands?” There was laughter in his voice, a musical tone that made it lilt, but there was nothing but soft warmth beneath it. There was no sharpness, no sarcasm. As though if she really did make a request, he would put everything on hold just to make it for her.
She wouldn’t call what she felt in her belly butterflies, not exactly. The wingbeats too quick, soft and ticklish instead of the gauziness of the butterflies. But she felt it all the same, both nerves and excitement stitching themselves into the framework of her body, her DNA. It summoned pinpricks of light, of heat. Seedlings that would bloom into stars in her heart, a garden of light unfurling behind her ribs, in her veins.
Without realizing it, she clung to him all the tighter, her other hand coming around to hold his hand, so it was sandwiched between both of hers.
“Well I want to know what your other skills are before I put in any requests,” she said, as lightheaded as when she stepped off carnival rides.
“There’s very little I can’t do,” he preened. His eyes closed, his smile smug as a lazy cat’s. “Just ask, and I’ll make it for you.”
“Hmm…” Just ask, and he’d make anything for her?
He arched his brow as she mulled over her options, over what she could ask him to make. He only shot her a curious glance as he bought tokens for the claw machines, shaking the basket of the little gold coins to draw her attention.
“Well?” He asked, swinging their joined hands again.
“Well what?”
Rafayel rolled his eyes, shaking the basket over her head so the rattling of the coins cascaded over her like ocean waves. “Well, do you know what you want me to make? A painting of your favourite landscape? A sculpture in your likeness? Or maybe in mine, so you can see me even when I’m not around?”
That earned him a pinch, and he laughed, knocking the basket against the top of her head. “On second thought, I think a tiara would be the best fit for a princess such as yourself.”
She scoffed, trying to pull away only to be reeled close again as he stopped in front of one of the machines. “If you’re going to make me a tiara then you’d better make yourself a matching one.”
One brow arched high on his forehead, half hidden by his bangs as he lowered his head. He chuckled, soft and breathy, his eyes slowly finding hers as he turned.
She saw the laughter in them, dancing like firelight across a lake. She saw the sharp curve of his smile, the promise of mischief in the creases around his lips, in the corners of his eyes. She heard the barely contained laughter in his voice, the heat of his breath as he lifted her hand to his lips, as he kissed it slowly, smirking all the while.
What she did not notice, too lost in his eyes and his smile and the unfurling of gossamer wings in her belly, was the red creeping across his face. The delicate flush of coral that deepened to messy crimson, cerise like spilled cherries, burning scarlet like a wildfire catching.
Nor did she notice the quiver in his voice, not from suppressed laughter but from his own nerves, from how his own knees felt weak, from how he would have liked nothing more than to fall into her arms and stay there after the day he’d had.
But instead he remained standing tall, and she did not notice the mess of reds and pinks mottling his complexion, her own face flushing the colour of dusk from the leisurely way he kissed her hand.
“What are you doing?” Her own voice squeaked, cracking from the jump in pitch as he kissed her knuckles next.
“Thinking,” he muttered, not looking at all like he was thinking in the least.
“About?” Nervous laughter escaped her lips, her mind a frenzy of flitting wings and flowers blooming with fuzzy warmth, all of it cacophony clouding her thoughts.
“About how you asked me to make matching crowns,” he said, his words curling against the skin of her hand.
“I was only teasing, you know-”
“And it made me wonder,” he cut her off, his grin as bright as the sunrise. “Does that make me your prince?”
“I- No, I-” Too flustered by his smirk and his teasing, all she could do was sputter as a pyre caught flame on her bones. She was hot, burning, her skin deep reds and blushing pinks all while Rafayel continued to smirk, so smug and pleased with himself.
She didn’t even have the forethought to try and wrench her hand free from his grasp, instead scowling at him as her thoughts ground to a halt.
“Oh?” He leaned closer, still holding her captive. “Was I right? Does your highness see me as her prince?”
“I’ll bite you,” she grumbled, sorely tempted as she eyed his arm.
His grin widened, all teeth and devilry. “Well I’m not much of an exhibitionist, but I could be convinced.”
Lungs constricting, breath catching in her throat, she felt dizzy, the world spinning round and round as the flames beneath her skin threatened to consume her whole. She was so dumbfounded by his comment that she didn’t think to notice the burning colour in his own cheeks and ears, the colour reaching beneath the collar of his shirt.
Rafayel himself wondered if he was losing control of his evol, but surely he would be feeling pain were that the case, the flames burning him until nothing remained.
This was a pleasant warmth, that loosened the tension he often carried, that softened his worries until he could not remember what they were. It flooded his mind like the tide washing the shore clean, nothing but her left in its wake.
There was nothing but her. Only her.
He would say anything to make her blush, to make her smile. He would do anything at all if she asked it of him.
All of it was so clearly painted across his face, in the burning maroon and the sweet cherry and the soft rose splattered over his cheeks and ears and neck. Had her mind not been lost, dragged by the undertow of her own feelings, she surely would have noticed, would have understood what he could not say.
But she was flustered, overwhelmingly so, and she feared she would collapse if she held his gaze a moment longer. Her muscles unravelling, her bones turning to jelly, no support left to keep her on her feet.
Despite it all, she found the strength to wriggle from his grasp, using her newfound freedom to wave at the claw machine. “You have to win me something.”
Beside her, Rafayel hummed, shifting to face the claw machine. “Which one do you want?”
She peered into the glass case at the piles of plushies, the small reprieve allowing her heart to slow, her body to cool. There were so many she wanted that she could hardly pick, little plush ducks and fish, foxes and cacti.
“I want all of them,” she announced. “I think receiving all of them would be a good penance.”
“Alright then, all these cuties for my cutie.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile. Rafayel grinned at her, his most charming, confident grin. “And you can just stand here and cheer me on.”
About ten minutes later it was clear Rafayel would need more than a personal cheerleader to manage to win anything today.
She winced, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her smile as another plushie slipped from the prongs of the claw, tumbling over a mountain of plush and rolling until it hit the side of the case.
Rafayel groaned, shaking his head. “This thing must be rigged. Someone needs to tell these plushies that they have to come home with us.”
“Can I try?” She leaned against him, perching her head against his shoulder. He looked on the verge of telling her no, and so she fluttered her lashes, popped out her bottom lip. “Please, Rafayel?”
He relinquished his control with a sigh, shaking his head. “My hands were getting tired, anyways.”
“Hopefully not too tired.” She popped a token into the machine, lights flashing and sound whirring as the claw came to life again. “I’m going to need you to carry all the plushies I’m about to win.”
He rolled his eyes. “This one seems rigged, I don’t know if anyone would be able to get anything from it.”
Twenty minutes later, and she had to hide her smirk behind the plushie she retrieved from the machine, a sunshine-yellow duck with a little beret.
She lifted it to her face, pressing its head over her mouth, hoping her eyes did not betray her laughter as Rafayel glowered at her from around the growing pile of plushies in his arms.
“I thought you wanted me to win you all the plushies,” he said, his voice edging close to a whine. “But all I’m doing is holding them.”
“Well you weren’t having any luck, so I wanted to try.” She managed to get ahold of her smile, if only barely. Enough to lower the plushie, to add it to the pile in his arms.
“I still think the machine is rigged,” he pouted. “I’m usually great at these.”
That might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but Rafayel really was usually pretty good. Of course there was no account for luck, and it seemed he had used up the last of it before today.
“Maybe it is rigged,” she mused, turning her attention to some of the other machines in the arcade. Many of them looked similar, although the plushies trapped within them were different. There was a machine of entirely frog plushies, another with different food themed plushies, one where it seemed like everything was pink, although in all different shapes and sizes.
“Maybe we should try another one,” she continued, heading towards the machine with the pink plushies inside.
“Let me show you how it’s done,” he announced, coming up beside her. “I’ll win every single one in there, just you watch.”
She did let him see her smirk now, shaking her head as she kept the basket of tokens far from his reach. “Actually, I want to keep trying.”
Rafayel huffed, his brows drawing together as his pout deepened, but he didn’t argue.
At least not until she started winning even more plushies, until the stack in his arm threatened to fall.
“Are you going to make me your servant forever?” He groaned, readjusting the plushies.
She hummed as she added another to the teetering pile in his arms, a little pink bunny with floppy ears. “That’s not a bad idea.”
His shoulders slumped, and he balanced his chin on top of her newest plushie. “But-”
“Didn’t you say you’d do anything I asked?” She gave him her brightest smile, clasping her hands together over her heart. “Right? You said you’d do anything for your princess.”
His eyes narrowed, his nose wrinkling as he snorted. “Fine, I guess I can’t argue with royalty.”
She laughed, finding herself growing comfortable with the nickname he has bestowed upon her today. “Exactly. And what I want right now is to try to win a few plushies myself.”
It was another while yet before she felt satisfied, and they wandered around the arcade, trying different claw machines and simple games.
At the end of it all they had to purchase a few bags to store her winnings in, and to make them easier for Rafayel to carry.
As they received the bags to stow everything away, Rafayel very confidently announced to her that he would have no problem at all carrying them. That she should let him carry her purse, too, since he was showing her how loving and sweet he could be.
He even kissed her hands again, and her cheek as he helped to zip her jacket up again against the biting cold just a few steps away. As if she would be able to feel anything beyond the warmth thrumming in her veins after his lips had touched her so generously.
And true to his word he did not complain about the bags, although she could see it in his face as he tried to arrange them so he could still hold her hand, lines forming across his brow, looking as though he greatly wanted to complain.
But he held fast nonetheless, and something about it further eased the tension she had been carrying all day. Rafayel loved nothing so much as the sound of his own voice, and yet he kept things light, if still dramatic, uncomplaining even as he readjusted the bags again and again.
She was mulling over what to do next, whether she should release Rafayel from his penance, when her eyes landed on the sign above one of the downtown bookstores, the door thrown open to let warm air and welcoming golden light spill into the grey of the winter.
“Oh, can we go in?” She asked, forgetting for a moment that he was in her debt. “I want to take a look.”
“Your highness is awfully demanding,” he said, his smile giving away his answer. “But I don’t see why not.”
She beamed, squeezing his hand as she dragged him through the door, into the warmth of the store.
She would have happily let Rafayel wander at his own leisure, or lounge in some of the soft, worn chairs that dotted the front of the store near the windows, but he seemed content to follow along at her heels. He made idle comments on the titles and covers of books, nodding his head towards ones he thought she might be interested in, perching his chin on her shoulder whenever she pulled a book down to read its synopsis.
Rafayel clinging to her shadow also had the added benefit that they were often left alone in the aisles, the bulky bags he carried making it difficult for anyone else to squeeze behind them. It was a welcome reprieve as she wandered through the store, and she was able to take her time, not worrying about someone trying to rush her through browsing the shelves.
When she found a few she wanted to read, he was holding out his hand, bags swinging from his wrists, to hold them for her.
“But your hands are already full,” she said, eying the bags, and his other hand still tangled with hers. “It’s okay, love. I can carry them.”
His lips quirked up, and he reached out to take them from her hands before she could protest. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgiven me already, have you? And just for carrying a few plushies around.”
Laughter bubbled in her chest, although she managed to stop its escape. Instead of laughing, she merely tilted her head back and turned away, hoping she appeared haughty. “Fine. You carrying the books is the least you can do, anyways.”
“Ah, come on princess, you don’t have to be so cold.” She was sure if she looked he would give her his widest puppy dog eyes, but he didn’t sound like he was. He sounded like he was close to laughing, too, like he was barely able to hold back his smile.
She tried tugging her hand from his grasp, but she remained ensnared, caught in his pull. He squeezed her hand once, as if to say he was happy to play the penitent, but he was not about to let her go.
So she dragged him all over the store, handing him books as she did her best to playact an imperious noble. Each time she turned to hand him another book she would sniff, and she would catch Rafayel’s lips stretching wide like the sunshine spilling across the ocean at dawn.
She didn’t know if it meant she was doing a poor job and he thought it funny, or if she was doing an amazing job and he was finding it funny. Either way he was smiling, so she supposed it was a win.
After they had looped all her favourite sections multiple times, and had wandered through the section that curiously had racks of robes and simple outfits and cocktail mixes, she turned to him fully. “I think that’s everything.” She gestured to the stack of books in his arms, undoubtedly heavier than the plushies and yet he had brooked no complaint. “Let me take them now and I’ll go and pay.”
His brows furrowed, his mouth quirking to the side. “Do you think I’m not strong enough to carry a few books? I’ve lifted canvases heavier than these.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “No, Rafayel, that’s not it. But you’ve more than earned my forgiveness, and a little bit of rest. Let me take those and you can sit down while I pay for them.”
But he did not relinquish her books, and instead began dragging her towards the registers. Even as she protested, he ignored her, grinning wide like she wasn’t yanking on his hand, trying to convince him not to waste his money on her.
It was a fruitless endeavour, and five minutes later he was accepting a bag from the cashier, who was giving her a knowing grin, whispering under her breath that Rafayel was a keeper.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she whined once they were back out on the street. Rafayel was beaming, smug, the paper bag carrying the books crinkling as he swung it at his side. “You didn’t have to waste your money.”
“Waste?” One brow arched as he shook his head. “I promise, your royal highness, that nothing is ever a waste when it’s for you.”
Despite the chill, warmth crept into her face, and she was thankful that she could blame the flush of her cheeks on the bite of the wind.
Rafayel leaned closer, looking like he wanted to cup her cheek. But with his hands full, all he could do was close the distance between them, squeezing her hand, thumb stroking the inside of her wrist, his nose bumping against hers so all she could see was the ocean of his eyes. The melting of blue into red, the lick of ruby flames overtaking the sapphire sky.
“Nothing is too much, or too expensive when it comes to you. I’ll do anything that you want if it makes you smile.”
She wanted to say something clever, something witty, but all that passed between her lips was air. Like she was emptying her lungs as she swam deeper and deeper into the ocean-blue of his eyes, his hand her only tether to land.
“I’ll buy you all the books you want,” he continued, eyes glinting like sunlight dancing over water. Like the flicker of silver fins and rainbow scales beneath the waves. “And plushies, and food, and anything else you could ever want.”
He drew away, straightening just enough that the cold of the wind could whistle between them, just enough so she could see his smile in full. It could have been teasing, jovial, but instead it was soft, tender as a morning kiss. There was something fathomless in his eyes, both lost and found, a longing that echoed in her own heart.
“I’ll make you any painting, cry a million pearls.” His words were feather-light, nearly torn away in the air. “And I’ll make sure it’s all perfect. Only the most perfect things for you.”
She would have liked to tell him that none of that mattered, that the only thing she wanted was him. That she didn’t care for perfection so long as he stayed with her, so long as he held her hand and continued to smile and laugh and continue his shenanigans.
But she didn’t know how to say it, the words lodging in her throat, unable to form on her tongue.
“Rafayel, I-” Her lungs spasmed, her fingers tightening around his hand. He cocked his head to the side, like a bird listening to the symphony of the world around it.
She closed her mouth, swallowed, tried again. “I don’t… I mean I want…”
An unpleasant heat was beginning to flush in her cheeks, different from when he had flustered her before, this one sharp prickles that made her itch. But he didn’t speak, watching her quietly, patiently.
She breathed slowly, licked her lips, tried one final time. “Rafayel. I-”
But what she said wasn’t anything that she had been thinking, or perhaps it was, all of it stitched and embroidered into the fabric of the words she did say.
“I forgive you.”
At first he did nothing, although the slow climb of his brows told her that he had heard her, but that understanding hadn’t quite sunk in.
The moment realization hit him was like light flaring suddenly, like the explosion of fireworks in the sky. His eyes brightened, his mouth opened, a grin so wide she could see the sharp point of one of his incisors.
He laughed, bright as bells, warm as spring, pretty as birdsong. “You mean I have earned my freedom, your highness?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you’re free. You’re forgiven for earlier today.”
He continued to chuckle, swinging their joined hands. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry it would take a hundred years for you to forgive me.”
“Well don’t test your luck,” she grumbled. Her face still burned, although the discomfort had eased, and her voice was thick from the words still caught in her throat. She would have liked to cling to an ounce of feigned annoyance, to turn away in a huff so he could not see everything unsaid in her eyes, the colour in her cheeks. But Rafayel’s laughter was infectious, and the delight in it bubbled like champagne in her veins, fizzed in her mind and blurred her senses.
Rafayel seemed utterly unperturbed by her own personal turmoil, swinging their hands higher, his smile fixed to his face.
“What would you like to do now?” He asked, winking. “Should we go to the beach? Or would you like to go somewhere for dinner?”
She eyed the bags in his hands, the slope of his shoulders as he was weighed down by them. She could feel fatigue beginning to creep over her, like the slow stretch of ivy over aging brick. She could only imagine how tired Rafayel was too, his day just as long as hers, along with the addition of carrying everything around for her.
Having dinner sounded nice, but she wanted to relax, she wanted to lean her head on his shoulder and breathe in the smell of his cologne, barely masking the smell of salt and the sting of paint.
“What if we went home and ordered something instead?” She suggested. “It’s been a long day and I’d like to rest. Maybe we could watch a movie too?”
Rafayel hummed, his eyes ever-so-slightly narrowing. “Can’t get enough of me, huh? You were acting so mad, but now you want to stick around.”
As if he hadn’t just suggested spending more time together either.
She rolled her eyes. “I just thought it would be nice. It was a stressful day for the both of us, and I thought doing something lowkey could be fun.”
“I suppose we could do that,” he mused, his smirk a sharp curve of his lips. “It would probably be best to indulge your highness’ whims. I would hate to upset you again.”
“If you don’t want to, you can just say so,” she huffed. “It was just an idea.”
“I never said I didn’t want to.” His smile hiked higher, the corners of his eyes creasing. “But I want to pick out the movie. And where we eat.”
“I think I should be the one to pick out where we eat,” she argued, reaching over with her free hand to pinch him. “Since you scared me.”
“What, so now I’m unforgiven?” He whined, staring at her as though she’d just kicked a puppy. “I had to put up with dumb art collectors and my phone broke!”
“You’re not unforgiven,” she said, heat spreading in her chest, reaching down her arms, making her fingers tingle. “I just think I should get to pick where we eat!”
“Yes, but if I’ve been forgiven then shouldn’t you owe me now?” His brow arched. “Since you’ve made me do such hard labour?”
The heat continued to spread, her fingers itching. “That was part of your apology. And I think that after the day I’ve had I should get to pick out dinner.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You really are a princess. I did so much to make up for-”
It was on impulse that she moved, yanking her hand free from his and grabbing hold of his jacket. Rafayel paused, brows high, eyes wide as he turned. It gave her the opening she needed to snag his front with her other hand, yanking him close.
“Rafayel.”
He blinked, colour flaring in his cheeks like fireworks exploding in the indigo of night. It made his eyes seem darker, their colour deeper, so deep and fathomless she could have drowned in them.
His lips fell open, a silent question on them as his breath slipped away.
“You scared me today. Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she said, hands firmly twisting into the fabric of his jacket.
A brow arched, the corner of his lip twitching like he might grin. “Or what?”
“Or else.”
She had no real threat for him, and yet it seemed to do the job just fine. He smirked, lowering his head until he was peeking up at her from beneath the fringe of his thick lashes.
“Yes ma’am.” His words were hushed, warm and heavy, settling deep in her belly. “I promise I won’t ever make you wait again. I’ll always be with you.”
Whatever had possessed her to grab him was beginning to loose its hold on her, and she loosened her own grip on him, although still she clung close. “And?”
He huffed a laugh. “And you can pick the movie. But I’m still picking dinner.”
She dropped her hands as she gaped. “You can’t!”
“Oh but I can, love.” He flashed her a teasing smile, tapping her brow before straightening. “I know a place that just opened, and they don’t normally do delivery, but they will for me. You’ll absolutely love it.”
She made to pinch him, but he caught her wrist, smirking. “Doesn’t that get old?”
So instead she pinched him with her free hand, biting back a smile as he yelped. “No.”
“You’re lucky my other hand is full,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Or else you’d be in trouble.”
She giggled, a snorting, bubbling sound that made his smile soften. “I think that’s an empty threat. You wouldn’t retaliate.”
“Oh wouldn’t I?”
“Of course not.”
He shrugged, sighing. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“Well-”
“Anyways,” he cut her off before she could tease him, dragging her down the street. “Come on, I’m starving. Are we going to my place?”
“If you don’t mind,” she said, stumbling after him.
He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “Of course not. Although if you’re planning on staying over you have to cook breakfast tomorrow.”
His eyes met hers for half a second, less than a breath, before he rolled them, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
“What?” She hadn’t even said anything, hadn’t so much as frowned. “What did I do?”
“Nothing yet, but I know what you will say.” He groaned dramatically, tilting his head back.
She actually wouldn’t have minded, although she did not say as much as Rafayel quickly went through the five stages of grief.
“I’ll make something tomorrow morning instead. It might give me some inspiration since all of it was drained after going to that gallery.”
She reached out to cover his hand with hers, fingers interlacing. “Well maybe there’s something I can do to help with that.”
“Suddenly feeling benevolent?” He arched a brow, drawing her closer.
She shrugged. “I know you had a difficult day too, and I’d like to help if I can.”
Surprise melted into warmth like the night beneath the dawn across his face. His cheeks flushed, and she could have sworn she felt the quick pulse of his heart. But his smile was tender, his gaze soft.
“You know, I think I can feel it returning already,” he mused. “You might have to stay over for more than a day.”
She smiled, let herself sink against him as they walked. The frantic fear of the early afternoon was little more than a distant memory, a half-forgotten nightmare nearly swept away. Rafayel was safe, he was smiling, and his hand was twined with hers. That was all she’d wanted, to be close, to stay beside him today.
And tomorrow too, and the day after, and all the tomorrows after.
“You’ve gone quiet,” he said, squeezing her hand, drawing her attention back to him. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m trying to figure out what kind of food you’ve picked,” she said. “Since you won’t tell me anything about it.”
“Are you worried it won’t be up to your royal standards?” He chuckled, swinging her hand again. It was silly, a little childish, and yet it made her incandescently happy when he did. “Well you don’t have to fear, your highness, it’s something you’ll love.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Just trust me,” he insisted.
“Alright.” Now she swung their joined hands too, tossing them high. He laughed, eyes tracking the movement, his smile making her heart stumble, trip, no better than a toddler learning to walk. “I guess I’ll trust you.”
More laughter, warm as sunshine, sweet as sugar. She could have listened to it forever, an enchanting siren song that she would have happily let lead her to her doom.
“Don’t sound so excited,” he said, although his smile belied the annoyed roll of his eyes.
She giggled. “Sorry, sorry. I do trust you, I’m looking forward to whatever you have planned.”
His answer was simple, and yet it warmed her as surely as a star unfurling behind her ribs. “I hope you’ll like it.”
Where once there had been grey and white, pallid despair and shadowy fear, now everything seemed to be bright as technicolour. Streaks of cerise stained the sky, buttery yellow poured from windows, starlit silver washed across the sidewalk as the streetlights flicked to life. There were emerald greens and cerulean blues and plum purples, all filling her sight. They were embers catching and blooming to life, flowers unfurling at the first whisper of spring.
She leaned closer, pressing her cheek against his arm, listening as he hummed. It was because of him that her world was filled with such colour, each new brushstroke, each new shade, brilliant as the glitter of gemstones, bright as the shine of the sun.
Hope bloomed like spring, like blushing pink across his cheeks. Hope that he would stay with her, their hands always intertwined. Hope that he would find her, even if she was late. That she would find him, even if he was too. Hope that her world would always be bright, and filled with colour.
Here‘s another tag game I came across, and wanted to share it with you! Just highlight the trope you like more! 🤭
coffee shop or flower shop • alternate universe or fix-it • enemies to lovers or childhood friends • angst or fluff • love at first sight or pining • modern au or historical au • soulmate or unrequited • fake dating or secret dating • breakup and makeup or proposals and weddings • get together or established relationship • oblivious pining or domestic fluff • hurt/comfort or crack • meet the parent or meet cute • time travel or parallel universe
Just tagging a few people (no pressure): @adragonprinceswhore @aemondsbabe @targaryenbarbie @barbiedragon @succnfuccubus @connorsui @schniiipsel @kaelabear
OH...MY GOD ..I HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS ONE?? 👁✨️🩷 BUT MY LUV IM SO HAPPY U INVOLVED ME ✨️CUZ I LOVE THESE ....they are like a sudden Amazon package hitting your door ..and you only got two choices ..yes and yes 🩷 ..and I'll always do it
coffee shop or flower shop • alternate universe or fix-it • enemies to lovers or childhood friends • angst or fluff • love at first sight or pining • modern au or historical au • soulmate or unrequited • fake dating or secret dating • breakup and makeup or proposals and weddings • get together or established relationship • oblivious pining or domestic fluff • hurt/comfort or crack • meet the parent or meet cute • time travel or parallel univers
.....🧍🏻♀️🤡...MY GOD I MIGHT AS WELL HIGHLIGHT THE ENTIRE PARAGRAPH!?? 😭😭...but what can I say?? I love hurting myself to the point im crying and then flipping over to sum cute ..it's a toxic relationship 💅🏻
No pressure for the mooties! I love you🩷: @spacebarbarianweird @aethelwyneleigh27 @honestlyhiswife @arcielee @succnfuccubus @barbiedragon @aemondsbabe @dollsuguru @sinkovia @lovelykhaleesiii @lovelybluebirdie @amica-aenigmata-naboo @tripleyeeet @lipstickghoulie
Ooof let me think!
breeding • pregnancy • consoling after nightmares and tortures • weak and vulnerable after some intense battle • reborn soulmates • getting together after a break-up • a glimple into the future • fluff if a character canonically suffered a lot • star-crossed lovers • oral sex male receving • consensual non-consent and rough sex on the overall • some permament disabilities and scars • finding lost relatives • a character has a twin
Hmmm this is a hard one to narrow down there's a lot that are a lot of fun!!!!
friends to lovers • found family • fantasy au • royalty au • fake dating • domestic fluff • childhood friends to lovers • regular fluff • not sure if it's a trope but the man being down bad for his lover • the chosen one • comfort • one fell first one fell harder • sunshine character • grumpy x sunshine I guess in some situations
And I'd like to tag @jihyuncompass @cafedanslanuit @otherlandshark @aluneposting
