"This is gorgeous," you murmur as your fingers flit over the collar of Rafayel's shirt. The shirt is made of silk, and is a deep, dark maroon. The neckline plunges sharply into the edge of his pecs, showing off the toned outlines of his muscles. Your fingers find their way down his clavicle and over his chest, pausing over the plumpest part of it.
"Mmmm," he hums, his eyes on your hand. "I thought you'd like it. I forgot about it until I saw it in the closet last night. I figured it would have been perfect for tonight."
He's paired the shirt with a delicate gold chain that rests against his skin. Your mouth waters as your hand goes up to it, tempted to use it to yank him towards you. But you have to be out the door in the next five minutes or else both of you will be late to the opera. You've both been invited to a performance of Tristan und Isolde and cannot afford to be late. You would embarrass both yourselves and your host.
"We have to go," Rafayel breathes, his voice husky. He seems to be thinking the same thing you are. "The show starts soon."
"Just... just a second," you tell him, your brows furrowing. You peel back the collar slightly, leaning down to place your lips on his skin. You aim for a place that's just hidden by the collar of the shirt, between his clavicle and his pec. Rafayel hisses in surprise as your teeth graze his skin, but he doesn't stop you. Your teeth latch onto him, and you suckle at his flesh, eliciting a surprised gasp from him. You lean back and admire your work, watching as his fair skin starts to turn red from your bite. It's definitely going to bruise.
He looks at you, eyes glazed over, panting softly, his mouth hanging open slightly. You fold the collar back over his skin, pleased with yourself. You're aware that part of the bruise will be peeking past the edge of the shirt. Exactly how you want it. You pat him on the chest quickly, giving him a wink.
"Okay, let's go," you chirp, turning on your heel as you start to head off. "We don't know what traffic's going to be like. Can't be late."
beach day with rafayel and he REFUSES to wear sunblock despite you reminding him several times to put some on because all he's wearing is his swimming trunks... "puh-LEASE... do you think lemurians get sunburnt? the beach is my domain" but when you get home he's whining and whimpering about his back hurting and you check and his back is indeed bright red... so you sigh, get him to lie stomach-down on the bed while you slather aloe vera all over his back... you notice that he's waving his feet and wiggling his toes so you ask "are you enjoying this?" and he giggles "well how can i not? i've got my cutie attending to my every need" so you slap him on the back, and he SCREAMS and the smack leaves a white handprint on his skin
rafayel experiencing immense levels of cuteness aggression when he just sees you doing random things... like you're in the kitchen fixing him a snack and he'll come up behind you, wrap his arms around you and just squeeze you tightly... you just hanging out with him and he'll just grab your face with both hands, and start squeezing... him being covered in paint from working on a piece and he sees you and chases after you while you yell "rafayel, NO! you have paint everywhere!" but then you let him catch you anyway and and he wraps you in a tight embrace and nuzzles his paint-covered cheek against yours... you walking arm in arm with him and he'll just randomly lift your hand up and take a chomp out of the fleshy part underneath your thumb then put it back down like nothing happened while he's smiling to himself...
rafayel code switches into lemurian sometimes when he thinks you're not paying attention. sometimes, he'll murmur phrases under his breath quietly, thinking you can't hear it; when you're watching TV with him and he has an arm around your shoulder, his fingers reaching for your hair and gently tucking it behind your ear. you'll ask him if he said something, and he'll shake his head, humming "mm-mm" as his finger tenderly strokes your ear. you'll go back to watching the show, while he keeps looking at you, his eyes twinkling, a small smile playing on his lips. you don't know that he's admitting how much he adores you, and he's wishing that you can just stay in his arms, hoping that one day he can teach you enough lemurian to understand what he's saying to you.
merman-rafayel who loses the love of his life and the will to live, wants to end it all so he gives up his tail for legs, ends up washing ashore on a beach in a small seaside town, hoping the elements will eventually take him. you, doing your daily early morning walk on the beach, find this gorgeous, naked, lavender-haired man laying on the sand like a beached whale so you check up on him (making sure he's not dead) and he cusses you out in a weird language (lemurian) and you're like huh and he goes "fuck off human" so you go ahead and do fuck off... but it's a hot summer's day and you end up thinking about him throughout the whole day. on your way back home, you grab a strawberry milkshake from a small cafe as a treat and go check if the guy is still at the beach. you see him, approach him and tell him you need to call the police or someone for him because he can't be there, naked, for the rest of the town to see. he's about to cuss you out again when he sniffs at the air then looks at the drink in your hand. "what is that?" a strawberry milkshake. he stares at it and at you. ...do you want some? he nods. so you sit with him and make him wear your jacket while he demolishes the rest of your strawberry milkshake.
rafayel x non-mc reader | angst + fluff | 1.4k words | part ii
“He’s been holed up in his home studio for almost the whole week,” Thomas tells you over the phone. He sounds helpless and exasperated. You can’t blame him. “Ignoring my calls and texts. I’ve been by his place to try and see if he’ll let me in but he keeps the place locked up – I know he’s in there, I can hear him… I just don’t know what he’s doing.”
He sighs, and you can imagine him shaking his head on the other end of the line. “I think you’ll have better luck. Just… just make sure he’s okay, please.”
“I’ll try,” you tell him, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Thomas.”
You hang up, feeling sorry for the guy. It’s been a week since the news of Rafayel’s breakup had reached you. You had tried the same things Thomas has done – calling and texting multiple times to see if you can get a peep out of your best friend. The calls and texts go unread and unanswered. Aside from his ex, you were the only one Rafayel trusted with the keys and access code to his home, and you were planning to go check in on him, but decided to check if Thomas had heard anything from him first. As expected, he had also received nothing but radio silence.
“Okay, Rafayel,” you murmur to yourself as you gather your things up for the expedition to his place. “I’m on my way.”
—
Rafayel’s home is eerily silent when you get there. He’d usually have some classical music playing if he was spending time in his studio, but you hear nothing. You manage to get through the front entrance, and you call out to him to announce your arrival and to see if you’ll get a reply.
“Rafayel? It’s me. I’m coming in.”
You step through the entranceway and shut the door behind you. Darkness envelops you as you make your way in – none of the lights are on, and it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust. You peer through the hallways, and notice dim lighting coming from his workspace. You can also hear movement – something clattering and feet shuffling on the marble floor.
You head towards the source of the light and the noise, clutching the carrier bag of food you bought for him on your way over. The smell from it wafts up into your nostrils and makes your stomach growl – you can’t wait to share it with him.
You eventually find yourself in the open area of his workspace, and the sight before you takes your breath away. Scattered on the floor are numerous torn pieces of painted canvas. The features of their subject are strewn across the floor, but you recognise who it is – it’s her. You look up from the floor and you see Rafayel working on another piece of canvas propped up on a wooden easel. He paints haphazardly, his arms swinging wildly as he drags his paintbrush across the canvas. You watch in morbid fascination as he continues to work, oblivious to your presence behind him.
You walk up to him, and call out his name again.
“Rafayel. Hey, it’s me.”
He doesn’t hear you. You can see how your attempts to contact him have ended in vain – he’s completely immersed in his work.
You hesitate before reaching out with your hand and tug at his shoulder. This seems to jolt him out his trance and he spins to look at you, gripping his brush in his hand as if it were a weapon. You flinch backwards, and hold your hands out in front of you. His eyes are wide, washed over with a crazed glaze. They’re sunken, with dark circles underneath them. His cheeks are hollowed out, with paint smeared across them and his chin. You look down at his clothes, and notice that they are also covered in paint.
Rafayel blinks at you, and he finally seems to recognize you. His arms drop to his sides, and his shoulders sink down. He drops the paintbrush onto the floor, and it clatters as it falls to the ground.
“Oh, it’s you,” he says simply, as if he were expecting you all this time.
“Rafayel,” you breathe, your hand reaching for his face. You place it on his cheek, and he doesn’t pull away, but looks at you through drooping eyelids.
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten something?”
He shrugs in reply.
“Since you’ve slept?”
He shrugs again, looking away from you. You take your hand away from his face, and hold one of his. You lead him to the settee in his studio, and you sit down, setting the food down next to you, and you motion for him to sit on your other side. He complies, his hand still holding yours.
“I can’t even cry,” he admits in a whisper. “I just keep seeing her face. When I try to close my eyes, I… all I see is her.” He clutches at his chest, his sweater balling up in his hand. “I just… I feel like I can’t breathe properly.”
You nod, squeezing his hand. Your throat feels tight, and you swallow. You hate seeing your best friend like this – it breaks your heart. A tear rolls down your cheek, and you swipe away at it with your sleeve, hoping he doesn’t see it. But he looks up, and regards you with wide eyes.
“Why–why are you crying?” he asks, incredulous.
“Because,” you chuckle, wiping away at the tears now streaming down your face. “I’m crying for you, you dummy. You look like shit.”
He seems to stop breathing for a moment, but then you see tears welling up in his eyes. His face scrunches up, and he immediately covers his face with his hands. You reach out with your arms and pull him into an embrace, your hand pushing his head into the crook of your neck.
He starts to wail, his voice muffled by your sweater. “She–she said she loved someone else!”
You stroke his hair, trying to soothe him as he continues to sob.
“She left. She said ‘sorry’ and just left!”
“I could–couldn’t do any–anything. I couldn’t say anything. I just–just let her go…”
You let him weep into your sweater, his tears eventually making it damp. You continue to hold him as his body trembles in your embrace, as he takes deep wracking breaths between sobs. You keep stroking his hair, staying silent, unsure if you can offer any words that can provide any sort of comfort to him. So you just hold him, let him wrap his arms around your waist and grip at your sweater with tight fists.
You hold him until his sobs turn into whimpers, and his whimpers turn into slow, shaky breaths. You hold him as you feel his body relax against you, as his breathing continues to slow, as his grip on you loosens. You adjust him so that his head is in your lap, and you run your fingers through his hair as he starts to snore, the rest of his body splayed out on the settee.
You sigh in relief, thankful that he’s finally asleep and resting. You look back to the canvas he was working on, studying it carefully. You move Rafayel off your lap, and he stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake. You walk up to the canvas, admiring it – it’s another painting of his ex. He painted it in heartbreak, and yet she still looks hauntingly beautiful in it. You can see why Rafayel made her his muse. You walk around the studio and find an old, stained cover in one of the corners. You pick it up, walk back to the easel, and drape it over the whole thing.
You make your way back to the settee, and kneel in front of it, watching Rafayel as he sleeps. His eyelids and lashes flutter gently, soft snores escaping his slightly parted lips. You brush his hair away from his forehead, hesitate for a moment, but then plant a light kiss on his paint-smeared skin. You let your lips linger there for a suspended moment, and you close your eyes, a dull ache in your chest starting to spread.
rafayel taking photography up as a casual hobby and buying a camera... him asking if you'd okay being the subject in his photos you let him take his photos despite not understanding how you possibly could be an interesting subject... he develops them into actual physical photographs and keeps them all in an album and you not wanting to look at them because you feel a little self-conscious, but he flicks through them with you one day, and you see photos of yourself just doing mundane things like cooking, drinking tea, watering the plants and he's looking at the photos wistfully, tracing at your silhoutte and face with his fingers, and you desperately want to know what you look like through his eyes... thomas loves the idea of having his photographs displayed at the gallery and rafayel refuses, saying "this muse is for my eyes only"
Rafayel's question comes out in a mumble, his mouth filled with food. You try not to scowl at him, but you feel that your gaze carries a bit of heat. You push the food on your plate around with your fork, and you make a show out of stabbing a piece of gnocchi.
"Nothing," you reply, trying to keep your tone nonchalant. "I'm just not feeling this place."
Rafayel raises an eyebrow at you. "What is it? The food is good, the wine is good. The service is excellent. What's the problem?"
You try to discreetly glance over to the area where the servers are hanging out. They're glancing back at your table, although not so discreetly, some of them giggling behind menus. Throughout the night, they've been checking in on your table constantly, even bringing over free dessert, which Rafayel is currently scoffing down. He's halfway through the tiramisu already, and you had refused a single bite of it. The entire night, the servers had been ignoring you, but had obviously been fawning over your date. You had tried to endure it because Rafayel had recommended the place, but they were starting to get on your last nerve.
Rafayel sees where you're looking and looks over as well. He catches the servers trying to make eye contact with him and he flashes them a smile. You hear them burst into giggles and you feel your eyes roll so hard, they feel like they're going to get stuck at the back of your skull.
"You're entertaining their flirting!" you hiss at Rafayel.
Rafayel looks taken aback for a moment, then you see the glint in his eyes, his lips slowly morphing into a smirk. "Oh? Are you jealous?"
You stab another piece of gnocchi, then slam your fork down. "You know what? I'm going to go wait in the car. Get another drink. Take as long as you want."
You rise from the table, but Rafayel catches your wrist, and tries to pull you back towards him. You glower at him, but don't pull your hand away.
"Okay," he says gently. "Let's leave. I'll just take the rest of this to go."
He glances at the dessert, then at the server's station, then at you.
"On second thought, I'll leave it. I can get something else on the way home."
---
You try to reach for the driver's side door, but Rafayel beats you to it. Actually, he lets you get to it before he pushes in past you and swipes the car keys from your hand.
You stare at him inquisitively.
"What?" he chuckles. "Just because I prefer it when you drive, doesn't mean I actually can't."
You narrow your eyes at him, but then head to the passenger's side door. He rushes past you again, reaching for the door, and opening it for you. You roll your eyes, but can't stop the smile from tugging at the corners of your lips. Rafayel makes his way to the driver's side again, and before you can even buckle your self in, he starts the car and takes off, making you lurch back into your seat.
"Jeez, Rafayel!" you gasp, grasping at the seatbelt. You hurriedly clip yourself in.
"Sorry," he laughs, sheepishly. "Just got excited to drive. I promise, I'm good."
One of your hands grips the handle above the door, and the other is gripping the seatbelt. After a few minutes of driving, you start to relax - it's evident that Rafayel knows what he's doing.
The ride is mostly silent, with the radio softly playing as background noise. You stare out of the window, watching the street lights blur past. Rafayel continues driving, missing the turn he was supposed to take to bring you back home. You turn in your seat and start to protest, but he shushes you.
"I know where I'm going!" he insists. "Just enjoy the ride. We'll be there soon."
---
The car stops at an empty parking lot, facing the shoreline. There are no street lights around - there weren't any for the last few minutes of the drive towards wherever this was - but the entire place is illuminated by the half moon in the sky.
"Where are we?" you ask Rafayel, peering out of your window.
"Stay there," he instructs, getting out of the car. Within a few seconds, he's at your door, pulling it open, his hand extended out to you. You take it, and let him lead you out of the car.
"Come on," he tells you, pulling you along. "I have something to show you."
Both of you head down to the shore, his hand tightly clasped around yours. You make your way to the boardwalk, which extends past where the tide is coming in. Rafayel leads you down, towards the end of the boardwalk, where there is a railing, facing out to the sea. You stop at the railing, watching the moon's reflection rippling on top of the waves.
"Look up," Rafayel whispers, your hand still in his. "Tell me what you see."
You turn your gaze upwards and see a sea of stars, painted across the sky. "I see... the stars?"
"How many?" he asks you.
You shake your head. "Too many to count."
"Yes. That's how many people are going to try to flirt and get my attention while we're together."
You consider tossing Rafayel over the edge of the railing and into the water, but you opt for a dramatic turn and storming back towards the car instead. You're considering leaving him there and just taking the car home without him when he grabs at your wrist again. He pulls you in, and wraps you in an embrace, so tight that you can feel his muscles tensing underneath his jacket. He holds you, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other around your shoulders. His cheek is pressed against yours, and you feel his breath brush against your ear, warm and ticklish. For a few moments, you're both still, locked in this embrace, and you feel his heart pounding against your own chest. Then, he speaks in a gentle whisper.
"And that's also how many times I'm going to reject and ignore them. That's how many times I'm going to choose you. It's you and it's going to be you, over, and over, and over again."
