Jellie's Library

two weeks later the three of you head to the beach, (rafayel was strongly against the kitty invading his “safe space,” you convinced him with many kisses), and lo and behold; your cat walks RIGHT into the ocean and starts swimming like it’s no one’s business.

rafayel’s knees hit the ground, hands covering his mouth as he stares at your cat, swimming right up to the shore and meeting him in the sand, headbutting the artist and staring up at him, as if waiting for his approval.

a small ‘mreow’ leaves the felines mouth, wet fur rubbing on rafayel before turning around and getting back in the water, swimming in a circle before facing your boyfriend once more.

“look he turned out to be part fish like his dad!” you tease, holding the leash tightly so your kitty didn’t swim too far. you turn to look at Rafayel, biting back your laughter when you see tears welling in his eyes as he looks at cat, arms extending and scooping the wet ball of fur into his chest.

“please forgive daddy for being mean to you, my sweet sweet baby,” he murmurs into the cats fur, placing kisses to its small face. you can hear your cat purring, your jaw almost on the sand as you take in the sight before you.

“bet you like seafood too huh? want some lobster? dads got some scallops he can make you, yes he can,” he coos softly, voice softer and a higher pitch than usual.

rafayel, notorious cat hater, was placing a flurry of kisses on your cats face. and your cat was having the time of its life, eyes shut and tail swooshing languidly.

after a moment Rafayel walked deeper in the water with your cat, his sunset eyes shimmering as he watched your cat swim alongside him, soft laughter leaving his body and wrapping around your heart tightly.

“are you gonna get in the water? we’re having so much fun!” Rafayel calls out, he’s sitting in the water, soft waves crashing onto his chest as he watches your kitty carefully, stealing glances at your enamored face.

“yeah ‘m going,” you reply quickly, staring at the pair quietly for a moment before walking towards them, placing a kiss to Rafayels cheek when you get next to him.

“told you you’d come around,” you mumble with a grin, nudging your boyfriend. he scoffs at you, a smile still on his face as he watches you cat swim up to him once more, meowing to be picked up, he obliges immediately.

“yeah, yeah, guess my cutie knows me better than i do myself,” he hums happily. your heart flutters in your chest, stomach flipping as rafayel turns to you with an equally love struck look on his face.

a/n: this is based off this tiktok i saw and immediately thought of raf hehe,, sorry if this is buns i wrote this between study breaks and just wanted to post it lolz

masterlist

“Did you know I started this piece a year ago?” His words echo slightly in the now empty room. The lights pointing straight at the painting cast beautiful shadows across his face. You only hum in response, reading the title card next to the painting. 

The Sea’s Love.

“Good thing it sold for the highest then,” you joke lightly, still focusing on the painting ahead of you. Rafayel turns his head slightly, gaze focusing on you. 

“When I first started painting it, I was fueled by anger and frustrations,” he states, voice neutral as he continues to watch you. “I was so angry, I felt like I would never be able to feel truly happy, like I’d never trust enough to be able to love again.” Rafayel pauses for a second, eyes shifting back to the painting you were so engrossed in. “I abandoned it after three days of working on it.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, focus finally tearing from the art to the artist beside you. 

“You said you finished this in six days though,” there’s genuine confusion on your face as you continue, “and you said you were inspired by feelings of hope and love, not anger.” 

Rafayel hummed, a soft smile playing on his lips as he leaned closer to you. “I did. Somewhere along the way I realized I could love again, but it doesn't mean those negative feelings just vanished overnight.” 

“So your anger and fears, they still live alongside the way you love and devote yourself to whoever your beloved may be.” It was less of a question and more of an observation. You cocked your head at an angle, eyes tracing every brushstroke. 

“Exactly Miss Bodyguard. Love is like the sea, filled with beauty and serenity, but also storms and chaos. That's what love truly is, messy and heartbreakingly wonderful."

It was nice to talk to Rafayel when he was in his element and not making your job next to impossible. You smiled at the explanation, nodding your head and turning to look at him, his eyes met yours. 

“That’s nice, I like that.” 

“I picked it up again a month ago. I found new inspiration, one that invoked the more ‘positive’ influence of the painting.” He’s quiet for a moment, eyes lingering on you enough to make your face flush, “right after I met you, actually.” His eyes never left yours, and the last couple words make heat rise quickly to your cheeks. The room felt too hot all of a sudden, and you were quick to break eye contact first. 

“I think they’re about to shut the lights off, let’s get you home before Thomas tries to pitch you a commission for a sponsor,” you smile, turning on your heel and taking a deep breath. So he picked up his painting about love and the complexity of it after he met you? So what? It doesn’t mean anything, just a coincidence, a one off chance that will probably never occur again. 

Rafayel smiles behind you, watching as you wipe your hands nervously on your pants. You were flustered, cute. He takes one last glance at the painting, focusing on the middle right, where he’d hidden your initials among brushstrokes.

It was hard for you to say no to people. Even harder when ‘people’ was Rafayel staring at you with wide pleading eyes, and you were saying ‘no’ to an all-expenses-paid trip to Italy to visit his aunt for the weekend. 

“Miss Bodyguard, what if EVER gets me on the flight there? Or my stalkers figure out where I’m staying and kidnap me? I’ll be defenseless and all alone and you’d be none the wiser!” Rafayel gives you his best pout, and damn it was good. 

“Rafayel, I promised my friends I’d go to dinner with them already,” you sighed, guilt creeping in your chest as your mind ran wild with possibilities. What if something bad did happen to him? What if he really did need you there?

“Fine, when you see on Linkon City News that world-famous artist Rafayel Qi was found dead on the Italian coast, you better not cry.” He huffs softly before getting up from his spot on the couch, heading to his back porch as the sun begins to set. 

You frowned at his words, quickly following him outside. “If you’re worried about security you could always hire someone else! I’m sure anyone would-”

“I don’t want anyone, I want you.” For a moment a flicker of something flashes in his eyes, it leaves before you can place it. Your stomach flips at his words, and you have to remind yourself he doesn’t mean those words in the way you secretly hoped he did. This was a professional relationship. As professional as a pouting diva artist and overworked hunter-turned-security detail can be, at least. 

Rafayel leans on the railing that heads to the beach, chin propped in the palm of his hand as he scowls. He knew you’d feel guilty if he sulked for long enough, and sulk he did. “I’m sure my dumb seagulls will miss me when I’m dead in three days time, we never finished our final choir act y’know.” 

You rolled your eyes, pulling your phone out and sending a profuse apology to your group chat. You can’t make brunch Saturday, the job you took as a side quest is requiring you to travel for an event this weekend. 

“Watcha writing? You should look up caskets near us, help me choose one since I’ll be dead in-” you cut him off by flicking his forehead. “Ow! What was that for? You’re supposed to protect me!” 

“You are so dramatic you know that?” Rafayel can’t help but smile, knowing he had you right where he wanted you. “Stop smiling, you ruined my weekend plans,” you furrowed your brows at him, looking out into the ocean as the sun slowly sunk deeper into its depths. The oranges and pinks never failed to take your breath away. 

“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior Miss Bodyguard.” 

You were going to kill Rafayel. You had to find him first, but then you were going to kill him. This was poor foresight in your end, you had to admit. You really should’ve put two and two together when Rafayel took you dress shopping and picked out only items that matched his suit. 

“I thought you were just visiting?” You’d asked, zipping up the dress and looking in the mirror.

“Well yes, but she has this charity event she’s putting on, told me to come and support the cause,” he mumbled, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolled mindlessly on social media, he smiled when he saw your moments posts.

“What’s she donating to?” You asked as you smoothed the dress out, fixing your hair a bit and twirling to see how it fit. 

“Combating human trafficking,” he replied, it wasn’t a total lie. 

“Oh that’s nice.”

The sound of the curtain opening made him snap his head up. He thought his nose might start bleeding soon.

“What do you think? I feel like maybe it’s too much? I’m just security so I shouldn’t be flashy in the first place,” you slowly shrunk into yourself, Rafayel was quick on his feet. 

“It’s perfect,” he breathed out, his fingers ghosting over your shoulders, itching to finally touch your skin. It took every fiber of his being to pull away, he swallowed hard before shaking his head. “You’re my security, you have to look the part, don’t want you embarrassing me with a boring outfit do you?”

You shook your head, smiling slightly as you caught your reflection in the mirror. “It is really pretty, isn’t it?” Your eyes were focused on the detail of the gown, Rafayel was focused on the details of your face. 

“Very beautiful,” he agreed softly. 

“Miss Y/N?” The voice pulled you out of your haze, a nervous smile on your lips as you focused back on the woman in front of you. 

“My apologies, what did you say?” Your eyes shift nervously around the room, hoping to find the familiar purple haired man you’d arrived with. 

“How long have you and Rafayel been together?” The question would’ve been harmless, had you actually been in a relationship with the artist. You were grateful for the amount of training the association made you do on remaining stoic under pressure. 

So with a gentle smile you replied, “only about a month,” the lady cooed at you, going on about young love. The second your eyes met with Rafayel’s across the room, you quickly excused yourself. Rafayel smiled at you, then he realized your eyes were narrowed at him, his smile seemed to grow when you roughly grabbed his arm. 

“Where the hell did you go?!” You hiss at him, making sure your voice wasn’t too loud. 

“Miss me already cutie? I was just giving the staff my piece for the auction, doing my part or whatever,” he smiled at you, trying to hide how much he loved how angry you looked. 

“Okay first of all do not call me that,” Rafayel pouts at your words. “Second of all I’m here as your security, to secure you, make sure you’re secure. How do you suppose I do that when you run off behind my back?” You smack him lightly with your purse, hitting him harder when he lets out a string of ‘ow's that cause guests to turn and look at the two of you. Both of you give them convincing enough smiles to turn away. 

“Third of all, why did some random lady ask me how long we’ve been together?” 

Rafayel’s cheeks turn a hue of pink as you ask your third question, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips as he looks at you with the softest eyes you’d ever seen. No, stay strong. 

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry for running off. I just had to give them the canvas I donated or else Aunt Talia would have me gutted. I promise I won’t do it again cu- Miss Bodyguard,” he begrudgingly corrects himself, you thank him under your breath. “As for the last question, hypothetically, how angry would you be if I told my Aunt that you were my girlfriend and everyone accidentally found out? Hypothetically.” 

It wasn’t an accident, he’d asked Talia to put you down as his plus one, and next to your name on the guest list were the words ‘Rafayel’s muse.’

“Hypothetically you don’t pay me enough to fake date you,” you bite back, hoping he can’t see the flush on your cheeks or hear how fast your heart is beating. “Hypothetically,” you sigh out, pinching the bridge of your nose and closing your eyes for a moment before looking at Rafayel, “if you have a good enough reason for it then I won’t quit.”

“Well, if everyone knew you were my bodyguard they’d know to target you, and then without you I’d be a defenseless fish out of water.” You hate how quickly he replies, and you hate how much of a point he has. You can only grumble, muttering something about a raise before taking a flute of champagne, chugging it down, and slipping your arm into Rafayel’s. 

He pulls you closer to his side. You steal a glance at someone’s program, seeing that underneath the piece Rafayel had donated was your name, and next to it were the words ‘to my one and only muse.’ It must all be part of the ruse, the way he complimented you and stole glances at you throughout the night was just to sell the act. 

And when he takes the heels off your feet and carries you from the cab to your hotel room, you take it as him just being nice. The way his eyes linger on you for a second too long when you say goodnight at the door probably means nothing. 

You stare up at the hotel ceiling, repeating it to yourself until you can convince yourself of it. 

It means nothing. There’s nothing there. 

You wish the butterflies in your stomach and the thumping against your rib cage got the memo. 

Rafayel takes you into the city the next day, buying souvenirs for the two of you. His hand brushes against yours more times than you can count, you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath catches in your throat. (he does).

When the two of you arrive in Linkon again you turn to say goodbye to Rafayel, finding him already looking at you. 

“I really enjoyed being with you this weekend,” his words catch you off guard, mouth slightly agape as you scramble to find the meaning behind his words. There’s no way he means fake dating you, that would never happen. You smile at him and nod in agreement. 

“So did I, I’ll see you around,” you reply, not thinking too much of it, you can’t let yourself. Before you can turn to hail a cab, his hand envelopes your wrist, his mouth opens slightly, like he’s going to say something. 

“What is it?” You ask, scanning his face for a moment and ensuring nothing was wrong. He’s quiet for a moment, still holding you in place. 

How does he stop you from leaving? How does he keep you with him for as long as possible? 

“Let me give you a ride home, airport cabs are way too expensive,” he finally says, his voice as relaxed as it always was. You want to punch yourself for thinking he would say anything else. 

“It’s okay Rafayel, if you’re that worried about my finances just give me a raise,” you tease, waving goodbye and easily slipping out of his grasp. You feel your chest tighten as you close the door behind you, letting out a small sigh. Fake dating for a weekend didn’t mean anything, him falling asleep on your shoulder during the plane ride was nothing. 

There’s nothing there, you remind yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the clouds, as much as you wished there was, there wasn’t. 

You needed to go out on a date. It was starting to get ridiculous. So you did what any sensible person does: bought bottles of wine and invited your friends over to curate your dating profile. Hours later through flushed cheeks and barely contained giggles, it was done. Now all that was left for you to do was swipe on whoever you liked and hope you’d match. 

It didn’t take long for you to realize that half the people on there only really wanted one night stands and nothing serious. With most of them starting off with terrible pick up lines and the rest jumping straight to “dtf?” You were seriously giving up hope, until finally you came across someone who actually struck up a conversation. 

Two weeks later you found yourself fidgeting with your outfit, changing for the third time and fixing your hair one more time. You jumped as your phone buzzed on your bathroom counter top. 

[incoming video call from Rafayel]

You answered on the second ring, phone still on the counter with only the top half of your head showing as you fixed your mascara. 

“Hey Miss Bodyguard wanna come over? I need your opinion on this art piece I’m working on,” he pans the camera over to a colorful canvas before re-centering his face, you can see his brows furrowing as he watches your actions. “What are you doing?” 

“Sorry Rafayel, I can’t today I have plans already,” you blink a couple times before finally feeling satisfied, fluffing your hair and grabbing your phone. “I don't think I'm qualified to give opinions on art, but I can swing by tomorrow after work?” You watch as Rafayel’s eyes widen, his mouth opens slightly as he stares at you. “Hello?” 

“Do I have an event I didn’t know about?” Rafayel questions, swallowing hard as he blinks rapidly, drinking in your appearance through his phone screen. God, you looked gorgeous. 

“No, no, just going on a date is all,” you mumble, embarrassed beyond belief as your cheeks heat up.

“A date?” Rafayel feels his world stop, blood going cold. 

“Yeah figured I should put myself out there y’know? It’s been a while and I’ve been- anyway whatever, good luck with your painting!” You smile brightly before hanging up. Rafayel thinks his phone might crack from how tightly he was holding it. You absolutely could not go on that date. 

You needed this date, you had to get over your feelings for Rafayel. Taking a deep breath you finally exited your apartment, locking your door and heading for the cafe you’d agree to meet at. 

When you arrived at the cafe you sent your date a quick message, telling him you’d be seated in a booth near the back corner. You tapped your fingers against the table, looking around the room as you checked your phone. It’s fine, people run late all the time. 

Ten more minutes passed, and you figured it wouldn’t hurt to order your drink while you waited. You stood nervously in line and glanced at the door with every ring of the bell, heart sinking when it wasn’t your date. The thumping of your heart slowly subdued, and you felt silly for getting your hopes up so much. 

With slumped shoulders you slid back into the booth, checking your phone one more time as you sipped on your drink. Nothing. The door opened again, the small bell on top of the door rang as your head shot up. 

It wasn’t your date. You sipped your drink slowly, opening your phone and staring at the last text your date had sent you. 

‘See you soon! :)’

It’d been thirty minutes already, you’d texted him with no response. Just your luck you get ghosted on your first date back on the dating scene. With a heavy heart and a bruised ego you threw your now empty cup in the trash can, stepping into the warm summer air and taking a deep breath. Maybe it was a sign.

You didn't move when you got in your car, staring blankly at your steering wheel for a moment. The sound of your phone vibrating made your heart rate pick up, quickly checking the screen. 

[incoming call from Rafayel]

You take a deep breath, muttering a small prayer under your breath before answering. 

“Hello?” 

“You know it’s terrible etiquette to answer your phone while on a date right?,” you can hear his teasing tone, it makes your stomach churn. 

“It uh- ended early,” you lie, “what’s up?” 

Rafayel grins at your words, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he places an ice pack over his knuckles, walking back to the couch. 

“I ordered way too much takeout, what are the odds you wanna swing by and grab some? We can put on that movie you told me about last week,” Rafayel adjusts the bouquet of flowers he got you during his side quest earlier. 

You’re quiet for a moment, this was definitely not going to help squash your bubbling feelings for the artist. But you were starving, and you didn’t want to wallow in self-pity just yet, not when your hair had turned out so nicely. 

“Did you finish your painting already?”

“I can work on it tomorrow,” he huffs out, “c’moooooon cutie, come over and help me finish this food, please?” 

“I’ll be there in 15,” you reply, biting back your smile as you shake your head and hang up. 

You unlock his front door with the key he’d given you, calling out to make sure he knew it was you entering. Within seconds he rounded the corner, a smile on his face as he greeted you, clad in a hoodie and shorts. The sight never failed to make your heartbeat race. 

“You look beautiful y’know,” Rafayel says softly after the two of you finish eating. You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, your eyes are glued to the TV stuck on a loading screen. “He’s an idiot to not have realized what a catch you are, cutie.” 

You don’t have enough fight in you to protest against the pet name, you know he doesn’t mean it romantically. You're too emotionally drained to think about the fact that you never even told him how the date went

“Thanks Raf,” you say softly, had anything been playing he wouldn’t have heard it. 

“I’m Raf now?” The man grins, cheeks dusted pink as he repeats the nickname. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. 

“Don’t make me take it back,” you groan as he scoots closer to you, leaning his head on your shoulder and letting a content sigh leave his lips. Maybe it was because you already felt vulnerable and Rafayel just so happened to be there for you. Maybe it was because he handed you a bouquet of flowers when you walked in the door. You don’t know why you say it, but you do. 

“I should’ve known better than to think I’d find someone on a fucking dating app,” you scoff, laughing slightly as your gaze settles in your lap. Rafayel sits up straighter, a sympathetic smile on his face. 

“Hey,” his voice is feathery, his touch even more so as he lifts your chin for you to look at him, “dating apps are stupid, I could’ve told you that for free.” He smiles, you can’t help but reciprocate it. 

“You’re amazing, you know that? Anyone would be lucky to have you,” his face is closer to you than you ever remember it being, “I would be lucky to have you.” There’s no playful undertone in his words and no pout on his lips as he stares at you. His eyes flicker down to your lips for a fraction of a second. 

“Rafayel,” you breathe out, eyelashes fluttering as everything becomes too much. What was happening? Could this mean-

The sound of the movie abruptly starting makes you jump, the sudden realization of how close you were has you clearing your throat, scooting away from the man you so desperately wish to be closer with. 

He almost kissed you. You almost kissed him. He was there for you after a terrible date, with flowers and your favorite food. Which could mean nothing, and for the sake of your already aching heart, you tell yourself it does mean nothing. Because it was Rafayel and you were just, well, you. 

It was hard to quell your feelings after that night. It was harder for you to ignore how pretty Rafayel was, how charming his smile was and how well you and him got along. It was damn near impossible to ignore just how much you liked him. 

You tried to brush off his offhand comments, immediately deflecting and not allowing yourself the pleasure of entertaining the idea. This was Rafayel. The most handsome man you’d ever seen in your life, he was funny and kind and caring and he did not have a thing for you. 

“Hey cutie, what do you say we grab a bite after this?” He winks at you during an exhibition, you want to kill the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I can’t, sorry Rafayel,” you say simply, giving him a small smile and hoping he’d drop it. He doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. 

“C'mon! We can go to the place you’ve been wanting to try! I saw your moments post about it,” he narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms and leaning forward. 

You take a small step back. Rafayel wants to grab you by your waist, he digs his fingers into the fabric of his shirt to stop himself. 

“I already have some food I have to finish up, maybe next time?” You smile nervously, palms already sweaty from how intently he was looking at you. His purple bangs falling gently across his forehead, you fight the urge to brush them out of his eyes. 

Rafayel only spoke to you again when parting ways after the exhibition, turning around and causing you to almost bump into his chest. 

“Y’know I’m here for you, right? Whenever you want for whatever you need,” the words catch you by surprise, making your heart thump louder in your ears as you smile at him. 

“O-okay thanks,” you reply, moving to walk past him, he grabs your wrist, staring at you like he was going to say more. He opens his mouth before closing it again, shoulders slumping and letting out a small sigh. He lets go of your wrist, savoring the way the warmth of your skin felt on his. “Let me know when you get home, Miss Bodyguard,” he smiles softly. 

“Okay,” you breathe out, eyes lingering on his lips for a second too long. You turn on your heel quickly, the mantra you’d always repeat to yourself when it came to Rafayel already looping in your mind. 

It probably means nothing. The look in his eyes wasn’t anything, it couldn’t be. Your heart tugs the further away from him you get, God, you wish it did. 

You decided you were going to be brave. After almost a year of debate, you were going to take a leap of faith. 

With shaky fingers you hover over the dial button, taking a deep breath before tapping your screen and putting the phone to your ear. It only rings once before you hear the same voice that always makes your stomach flip. 

“Well to what do I owe the honor of you calling me first, Miss Bodyguard?” Rafayel smirks on the other line, leaning back in his seat as he puts the phone on speaker, mindlessly twirling a paintbrush between his fingers. 

“I need to ask you something, and I want you to promise that you won’t judge me or laugh at me or- are you already giggling?” You furrow your brows, nerves slowly replaced by that familiar feeling of enamored frustration only Rafayel managed to bring out. 

“You can’t tell someone to not laugh at something, everyone knows that just makes them want to laugh,” he states, “but fiiine, I won’t laugh.” 

“Do piercings hurt a lot? I know you have a bunch and I’ve been wanting to get one forever and I’ve been so scared but I really want one.” You rush your words out, pacing around your living room before staring out your window and flopping backwards on your couch. 

“You thought I would laugh because you’re… scared to get a piercing?” Rafayel cocks his head slightly, pausing his movements as he sets his brush down, grabbing his phone and smiling softly. He can picture you already, your face is probably warm, nose scrunched and lips pouting as you look to your side in embarrassment, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Well, yeah,” you mutter, nose scrunched and face hot as you stare away from your phone, as if he could see you through the camera. 

“What kind of piercing do you wanna get? The pain depends on the placement but also everyone’s pain tolerance is different.” He hears you hum on the other end of the line. 

“I wanted to get my nose pierced, is that lame?” Your face is hot, embarrassed to be so scared of something so many people did. 

“You’re gonna look great with it! It shouldn’t hurt too much, when are you gonna get it?” Rafayel has to take deep breaths as his imagination runs wild. The thought of you with your nose pierced, he closes his eyes for a moment, willing himself to calm down as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I don’t know, I was kinda thinking of getting it soon, rip the band aid off,” you smile, sitting up from your position on the couch and checking the time. “Are you busy right now?” 

“I’m never busy when it comes to you,” Rafayel replies easily, wiping his paint stained hands on a nearby rag before standing up. 

“Do you think you could come with me? To get the piercing?” You’re covering half your face with one hand out of embarrassment. You’re fully prepared for him to laugh at you, say ‘hell no!’ and hang up on you. Okay, that might be a little extreme. 

“I’m already on my way, cutie,” he replies, you can hear the jingling of his keys before you let out a small, ‘okay’ and hang up. You stare at the floor for a moment, then a wide smile breaks onto your face. You break out into maniacal giggles, burying your face in your hands before biting your bottom lip. 

Rafayel knocks on your door in 15 minutes time, hair falling perfectly and cologne wafting into your senses the moment you open the door. You look up at him with a shy smile, having never noticed just how built the man was. He crowds your space as he leans against the door frame, smiling and holding his hand out for you to take. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, you nod, hesitantly putting your hand in his. You ignore the way your whole body reacts to the simple touch. You’re too in your head to notice the way his face goes red as his hand envelopes yours. 

Rafayel was enjoying this way too much for your liking, but you were too nervous to make any remarks as he walked into the piercing shop with your clammy hand in his. 

“Hey what can I help you guys with today?” The man asked, looking between the two of you, “matching tattoos maybe?” He grins, you can’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Maybe next week, right cutie?” He chuckles when your eyes go wide and you elbow him. 

“I wanted to get a nose piercing,” you tell the man, and two consent forms later you’re seated in the piercing chair, fidgeting with your t-shirt nervously as you talk to Rafayel. 

“It’ll look good right? I won’t look stupid with it?” Rafayel smiles at you and nods. 

“You’re gonna look stunning, Miss Bodyguard,” he mumbles, walking from his position across the room to your side. “Who knows, you might even inspire me to paint more pieces about you.”

You smile at him, then the words process in your mind. “What do you mean ‘more’?”

“Alright! I’m gonna go ahead and mark where the piercing will go and let me know if you like the placement!” The piercer walks in, saving Rafayel from having to answer your question. Reluctantly you tear your gaze from him, smiling at the piercer and sitting still as she marks your nose and hands you a mirror to check. You nod in approval, handing the mirror back as she preps the area. 

Rafayel is staring at you intently, your heart is racing, fear coursing through your veins as the piercer turns to grab the needle. 

“Can you hold my hand?” You ask quietly, Rafayel all but jumps at the opportunity, intertwining your fingers with his, like he was always meant to be by your side. 

“Alright, you ready?” She asks and you nod, eyes focused on Rafayel’s pretty blue-pink ones. “Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth for me.” You do as you're told, feeling slightly embarrassed by how sweaty your palm is against Rafayel’s.

“Deep breath,” he says softly, eyes glancing between your gaze and the needle, squeezing your hand as she punctures the cartilage. “Good girl,” Rafayel praises, thumb stroking the back of your hand in soothing circles as your eyes water slightly. You blink rapidly, a stray tear slipping out as they insert the small stud in place of the needle. 

“Alright you’re all done!” The piercer smiles at you, letting you know to head up front to pay. You thank her quickly, turning to Rafayel who still had a tight grip on your hand. 

“How do I look?” You smile at him. Rafayel doesn’t say anything for a second, eyes scanning your features as his thumb swipes the stray tear from your cheek. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers, squeezing your hand before helping you out of the chair. He’s quick to beat you to the register, immediately handing the receptionist his card before you have the chance to protest. 

You’re too flustered by his compliment to fight back, opting instead to simply thank him as he places his card back in his wallet. Rafayel doesn’t say anything, his hand slotting back into yours. Both of your faces are burning hot, with neither of you addressing it until your hand leaves his as he holds the car door open for you. 

“That wasn’t as terrible as I thought it was gonna be!” You gush as Rafayel slips into the driver's seat. He watches from the corner of his eye the way you stare at your reflection in the sun visor mirror.

“You did a great job! My brave girl,” he says smoothly, left hand on the steering wheel and the other coming to squeeze your arm gently. Your body is on fire at the small contact, and you’re having a hard time rationalizing this into nothing. 

He holds your hand during your piercing, tells you he’s painted pieces inspired by you, that could mean nothing. But now he’s calling you his girl? Your mind is scrambling and you can only land on one conclusion. 

“Rafayel?” 

“Cutie?” He purrs back, he can all but see everything in your head clicking into place, his heart thumping against his chest as your gaze bores into your lap. 

“Do you like me?” You check to see if the passenger door is unlocked, in case he laughs in your face and you have to jump out of this moving vehicle. You think about the logistics of it, you’d most likely survive, mainly surface injuries, you’ve fought off hordes of wanderers, you could take jumping out of a car. What you couldn’t take, is the artist you’ve been crushing on for a year calling you delusional. 

“I thought that much was obvious, I’ve been flirting with you since I met you,” Rafayel lets out a deep chuckle, turning to look at you briefly. Your mouth is agape, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief.

“What?!” You shriek. Rafayel only laughs harder. 

“Did you think I just went around complimenting everybody? Calling people cutie and my muse?” Your silence makes Rafayel’s mouth drop. “Are you serious?!” He exclaims, parking the car in front of your apartment building before turning to face you fully. 

“I didn’t want to assume things! I just rationalized everything that happened,” you defended, “I just kept telling myself it meant nothing and you were just a flirty person!” 

“So when I gave you a key to my house?” 

“I’m your bodyguard so you gave it to me for security purposes,” you explained, and Rafayel had to hold back his laughter. 

“I told you there’s no one in my life that I’d want with me other than you, and that’s the conclusion you came to?” Your face burned as you tried (and failed) to defend yourself. “Okay and the time I told you that you were the reason I started painting with lighter tones and images of hope and love instead of despair?"

“You said that you did that after you met me, not that-” saying it out loud makes it seem obvious, embarrassment coursing through your veins as you realize the mental gymnastics you’d been doing all year. 

“I practically professed my love for you the night you got stood up, how did you rationalize that?” His head cocks slightly, a smug smirk on his face as he wonders what radical conclusion you’d landed on. 

“That you’d never have feelings like that for someone like me,” you shrug your shoulders, not daring to meet his eyes as you finally come clean. The true reason you’d brushed his every move off, the one thing driving the mantra you’d always told yourself. 

“Someone like you?” Rafayel repeats, his heart clenches at your words. He doesn’t say anything else, the restraint he had for the past year is thrown out the window as he reaches over the center console and angles your face towards him. 

“Do you like me?” Rafayel asks, his breathing erratic as he stares into your eyes. You give him a small nod, about to say something else before you’re cut off with his lips on yours. You tense for a moment, body catching up before your brain does as you melt into the kiss, hands weaving in the soft purple tresses at the nape of his neck. You whimper slightly when Rafayel pulls away and nips at your bottom lip. 

“Please tell me you can’t rationalize that,” he mumbles, you laugh, letting your head rest on his shoulder. 

“If I try hard enough-” Rafayel takes your face in one hand, lifting it up and kissing you once more, careful to not hit your freshly pierced nose. 

“I want you,” he mumbles against your lips, “you drive me crazy– you’re the only one I want– I want you all to myself, as my lover and as my everything,” he punctuates each statement between kisses, slowly turning rougher as you move in sync with him, tugging gently on his hair. 

When he pulls away, the only thing connecting the two of you is a string of saliva between your lips, which Rafayel quickly wipes with his thumb, licking it clean. You bite back a moan. 

“Am I clear enough now?” He smirks. You gulp, nodding. 

“Do you wanna- we should probably- come on let’s head inside,” you finally sputter out, quickly opening the car door and heading to your apartment. Rafayel is hot on your heels, relief filling his body when you turn around and shoot him a shy smile as you unlock your door. 

Rafayel crowds your space the rest of the day, kissing every inch of you, telling and showing you just how badly he’s been wanting you. He whispers sweet words to you as he brushes your hair out of face, his fingertips trace your sweaty skin, eyes staring at you like you were the most precious work of art ever created…. which could mean nothing. 

But you know better now.  It means the feelings you’d been shoving aside this whole time were reciprocated ten fold. It means he loves you, with every fiber of his being.

He presses soft kisses against your skin, before gently easing your legs apart, careful not to wake you. His breath warms your inner thighs as he lingers there, savouring the moment.

“Oh…? How are you this wet while you’re asleep? Are you dreaming of something naughty…?” He lets his tongue glide between your folds, just enough to taste. A muffled moan escapes him.

“Mmh… how do you always…taste so good…?” His words dissolve into quiet sounds against you, his breathing growing heavy and unsteady. “Let’s see if you can take one finger…” he murmurs, easing it inside you. A soft exhale follows, “I see…not enough for you, huh?”

He added another. Caleb leans over you, his fingers still moving inside you in an unhurried rhythm. He’s brushes stray strands of hair from your face as he watches you, almost studies your every feature.

Eventually, he withdraws his finger, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean with a quiet, satisfied hum, before letting his hand drift slowly to cup your breasts.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispers against your ear. “How many nights I’ve had to take care of myself while you slept next door or even here, right next to me…,” a soft, breathless laugh follows, but clearly filled with guilt.

“Although I might’ve stolen a taste once or twice before when you were sleeping… but you forgive me, don’t you?” he confesses. Deep down, he longed for you to catch every confession, but yet was relieved you’re fast asleep.

“Now… juuust the tip,” he says. “You can handle that. I won’t wake you up.” He positions himself, guiding the head of his leaking cock slowly against you before pressing in just slightly. A sharp, shaky breath left him the moment he felt you.

His control slipps completely then, his movements growing steadier, deeper, his breathing rougher with every thrust. “I’m sorry– “ he gasps, his voice strains.  “It’s… not just the tip. I know…”

He suddenly freezes mid-motion, feeling you shift slightly under the covers as your breathing intensifies. “Ssh… hey, sshh!! I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says quickly and panicked. He basically has your permission, but why did he still feel so guilty? Yet he didn’t stop.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a rushed, but deep and sloppy kiss, his hand coming up to block your eyes with his palm, just in case. “Be a good baby sister… go back to sleep, yeah?” he whispers, yet his movements only grow more forceful.

The alarm rang sharply at eight in the morning. Rafayel rolled over, trying to escape the sunlight that seemed to chase him. Always watching. Always taunting.

When the alarm rang out again, Rafayel groaned. He rolled out of bed numbly, not bothering with the blanket that fell at his feet with each step. It tangled in his legs like a fisherman's net. Tight, suffocating, and impossible to ignore. He ripped it off his legs, tossing it back onto his too-big bed.

Rafayel nearly flinched when he entered the bathroom, harsh lights creating shadows in the mirror. In his eyes, he saw his mother. In the slope of his nose, his grandfather. His jawline was his father's. His lips were someone's so long forgotten, they were only his now.

He turned away, the ache too great to bear. How could one live when all that made them up was everything they had lost?

His closet was too big. Half empty, as if he were waiting for someone else to fill the space. Delicate fingers drifted over soft fabrics. Blue or white?

An urgent ringtone echoed from his bedroom, and Rafayel fought the urge to roll his eyes. Thomas, no doubt, calling with another reminder of today's meeting with "very important clients." Clients that would just as soon have him put on display like some taxidermied animal.

Rafayel chose white.

Taking one final glance in the mirror, Rafayel sighed. He looked the part of the artist, sure, but something was wrong. Too much of himself leaked through, too much of what no one wanted to see. He lifted his mask carefully, laying it over his features. Satin. Soft and spoiled, just like they wanted him to be. If a little difficult to work with at times.

The resemblance to his father disappeared, along with his anger.

The meeting was mind numbing, but the mask never slipped. He played along with whatever they wanted him to be, despite the bile bubbling up in his throat.

Waves crashed against the shore, each ebb and flow resounding through the studio. With just Thomas left, Rafayel switched his mask: leather. Firm, but moldable. Sturdy, easily stained. Water molded the form, each droplet creating cursed designs. The older stains had a way of burrowing deep beneath, immovable and easy to spot.

That is, if one knew where to look.

How disgustingly lucky, Rafayel thought, that he had no one who knew where to look.

"You can't keep pushing off this painting!" Thomas groaned. "The exhibition is tonight."

"It'll be done by then," Rafayel shrugged, playing with a seagull's feather.

Thomas huffed. "Are you sure?" He put his hands on his hips. "Because it looks to me like you've barely started!"

Rafayel glared at him with half the heat he wanted to muster. "It's not exactly easy to paint while you're here," he snapped.

With a curt nod and a threat disguised as a reminder, Rafayel was left alone.

Now completely alone, the mask dropped. His shoulders lost their tensions, the pressure on his lungs eased. He glanced out his wall of windows, watching the way the sea churned and the clouds congregated above.

His hand itched for a paintbrush. The waters were wild, untameable. Rafayel painted a hurricane, the art of creation forming destructing. Destruction, Rafayel thought, that came by his hand.

At the eye of the hurricane, he painted a single figure. A woman. About to be consumed by the waves, and yet entirely calm.

He scowled at her peace, but she would not bend to his hand.

She was taunting him, he knew. The thought tasted bitter. He wished the waves would take her, bury her deep in the ocean's depths until she was nothing.

You say you love the sea, she whispered. But do you really?

"Yes!" His voice came out small.

You condemn what you love?

Rafayel felt his throat closing up. He gasped for air, taking shaky steps back.

"I didn't mean to," he choked out.

Intention does not defeat effect, she replied, perfectly still. Your love is poison, Rafayel. It is a thirst for violence disguised as affection.

Red leaked onto the canvas, pooling around the woman.

Rafayel ran. Tripping over his feet, his vision blurred. His hand fell onto the knob on his clawfoot tub, cool metal relief against hot skin. He dropped into the tub, letting the water seep into his clothes and weigh them down.

The plop of each pearl into the water became difficult to ignore.

Pinks and oranges from the setting sun leaked in through the window, the sunlight chasing him again. Shadows cast onto Rafayel's face that softened every harsh line. It hid away the panic and fear and despair until it became a brand new mask, just for Rafayel.

Just so he could pretend, for a time.

The creak of the front door pulled him out of the tub, trudging down the hall in waterlogged pants.

Thomas had his back to Rafayel, leaning into the painting. The woman didn't ridicule him.

"This is beautiful!" Thomas praised. "I think we'll make it the centerpiece of the exhibition tonight."

"It's not beautiful," Rafayel said, voice low and tired. "It's hateful."

Thomas finally turned, eyes widening when they caught sight of Rafayel. His gaze flickered over the artist slowly, taking in the paint splattered shirt, the pearls caught in the folds of the pants, the blood staining his palms.

Understanding dawned on his face like the slow rise of the sun. "I can leave you be," Thomas said quietly. "Or you can let me help you."

"I don't need your help," Rafayel sneered, wanting nothing more than to let every shred of insecurity spill from his cracked and bloodied lips. But the mask wouldn't budge, wouldn't reveal the tear-stained cheeks beneath. "Take the painting and go."

The door slammed shut.

Rafayel didn't move. Silence stretched across the few minutes that passed agonizingly slow. Each tick of the clock felt like a needle stabbing into his arms, deep and stinging, a prick for every sin he'd ever committed.

"You weren't mean to him," he said, small and accusatory.

The woman tilted her head, entirely unbothered. He's not a liar.

Rafayel nodded like he'd expected it, rising to his feet even though they felt unnatural beneath him. His body seemed detached, different parts mangled and shoved together until they resembled something resembling human.

With shaky steps and a shakier heart, Rafayel found himself in front of the mirror again.

His father's jawline has disappeared, replaced with something gentler, something easier to swallow. His grandfather's nose was fading too, stripping his unique beauty piece by piece.

Heaving a sigh, his hand drifted, returning to the masks. Silk, this time. Soft and familiar and pretty. It fit over his features easily, hiding away each bloodied and mangled feature until he was someone entirely different.

Now, he was Rafayel Qi, the famous artist. Charming. Carefree. Loved.

Everything Rafayel, the man, wanted to be.

His coat weighed heavy as he pulled it over his shoulders, something painful twinging in his heart as he traced over the intricate design. Flame lilies, hand embroidery that climbed up his arm and a long his back, stopping just short of his heart.

If he let his eyes fall shut, for a brief moment, he could still feel her hands on his chest as she tied off the final thread.

"What a handsome fishie you are," she'd cooed.

Rafayel's eyes snapped open at the knock on his door. He opened it brashly, hardly paying attention to the shocked face of his guest.

"You know Thomas, if you keep calling me like a dog, I'll bite you—"

His eyes finally landed on the man in front of him, heart sinking. The man nervously wrung his hands, notably not anyone Rafayel recognized.

"Mr. Rafayel?" he stuttered out.

A brief nod.

"I'll be your driver today."

Rafayel's brows drew together. "What about Thomas?"

Surely he wouldn't hold a grudge about what happened earlier, right? Thomas had endured worse, after all, and not just from Rafayel.

"He said, uh, he wouldn't be there to pick you up." The man bowed his head apologetically.

Rafayel nodded a few times, as if the sting might disappear if he kept moving. "I see…"

"I'm sorry to disappoint, sir." The driver frowned.

"Don't be ridiculous." He shook his head. "It's not your fault."

It's all mine, remained lodged in his throat, keeping down the bile that rose up. Each pain of every person close to him was another chain in the imprisonment of his sins.

The car ride was painfully silent. Filled with something awkward, something guilty, something fearful.

The exhibition, though, glistened in the fading sunlight, the guests' boisterous laughter echoing through the space. Rafayel moved through it slowly, almost ghostlike as he glided between columns and canvases.

The mask faltered for a beat when his eyes landed on Thomas, already staring with a somberness Rafayel wanted to ignore.

Rafayel moved on, painting a mask of unbothered ease. His canvases covered the walls, depictions of the sea towering over him until the waves crashed down and tried to sweep the mask away in the tides.

Chatter rose, wrapping tight around Rafayel like an eel. His chest tightened, his jacket felt too itchy, the room too warm. He pushed past patrons and clients, rushing for the door.

Cool night air soaked into his skin, a soothing balm that still wasn't enough. Rafayel tore at his face, ripping off the silk until it tore. Water stains had sunken in, molding and altering the mask. He cast it aside, letting it fall in the dirt until it was filthy, unwanted and unrecognizable.

His heart still pounded, his lungs still constricted. Rafayel clawed at his face, trying to remove this mask until he could finally let the man underneath breathe. Sharp fingernails dug into perfect skin, staining it red. If he could just peel all his skin off, shed this constraining disguise of humanity, maybe he would finally feel like himself again.

Approaching footsteps made him still.

"A pleasant exhibit, I suppose," the man drawled.

Rafayel glanced at him sidelong. An important client Thomas had introduced him to sometime ago. Rich, entitled. Not interesting enough for Rafayel to bother to remember his name.

And clearly, he hadn't noticed Rafayel just yet.

"I simply don't understand all this fuss about the ocean and the sea life," the man said. Rafayel stilled, ears perking. "Why should I care about pollution, or the lives of fish? I'll tell you, the only use we have for the seas is what we can extract from it."

In an instant, a mask slipped on. Steel, hard and impenetrable. His father's jawline grew stronger, and with it, his anger. His mother's softened eyes disappeared, replaced with the eyes of a god, aching to unleash justice.

"You should care for the sea," he said coldly. "Because it is what gives you life."

The man snickered, clearly unimpressed.

Rafayel leaned in, calculated proximity until the man attempted a retreat. "Soon," Rafayel murmured. "The sea will deliver your end." He stepped close, mask gleaming in the moonlight. "Where there is life, there is death. What gives will also take. And for you, who only takes…" Rafayel scoffed. "Well, it's only proper you should have the thing you value most taken from you."

The man stumbled away.

Rafayel wandered back into the exhibition, stiffened and chilled. He found himself in front of his latest piece, situated at the centerpiece and yet notably isolated.

He stared at the woman in the painting, waiting for the sharp words. Her blood bore into his eyes until it felt like it was flooding his mouth.

The words came softer than expected.

"You know, this is really beautiful," a woman whispered.

Rafayel glanced at her, noting her disheveled hair and bag clinking with keychains. It was as if she lacked any embarrassment for who she was. She was aware of her character, of her flaws and her strengths, and she displayed them openly. She wasn't anyone important by the exhibit's standards, and yet she was more deserving of his attention than anyone else.

Rafayel listened, intrigued, even as his hands itched for a paintbrush.

"It's really intense," she continued. "It strips you down and forces you to see who you really are. It's unapologetic."

"Isn't that frightening?" Rafayel asked. "To see what you really are?"

The woman nodded, considering. "It is," she conceded. "But that's where the beauty comes, isn't it? From the truth?"

Rafayel's lips curled, and for a moment, it was just the two of them. For a breath, the paintbrush was still in his hand, the red still smeared his cheeks, and the woman was fresh and brutal and honest on the canvas.

For just a second, Rafayel let the mask drop and found he wasn't disgusted with what lied just underneath.

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

✨Xavier✨

✨ This man is OLD. He has SEEN SOME SHIT. He’s been on this planet for over two hundred years, depending on where he lived and bounced around across the world he’d absolutely have bared witness to the development of anthropology and archaeology. Whether or not he paid much attention to it is another question.

✨Since you’re not a hunter, the next most likely place to meet Xavier as an archaeologist would be the library or a local museum. He’s been going through some old items, and realized he had some old momentos he didn’t feel the need to keep anymore. Rather than throw them away, he asked if the museum may be interested. You’re working as a consultant when he walks in.

✨While curation and collections work are not on your resume, you help the director anyway, sorting through the relics of a forgotten age. The handsome young (looking) man is quiet, but would answer questions as asked. ✨ You find out he’s a Deepspace Hunter. And a UNICORNS member at that. You try to thank him and ask about his job, but he shoots you down and instead asks about yours.

✨What was supposed to be an hour to assess what items the museum might take turned into multiple hours. Xavier didn’t seem keen on discussing his connections to the items in front of him, brushing them off as old trinkets great aunts, uncles, and other relatives passed down. But when you began to discuss the history and context behind them? Those big blue eyes started to sparkle like the stars in the night sky.

“I… didn’t think people still cared about those kinds of things.” He murmured, sliding his thumb across an object, wiping away a small layer of dust. You flash him a grin, snapping on the archival gloves to handle some of the more sensitive matters.

“I do. It’s my job to. I work more in the field, but I pitch in at museums where I can. Finding the stuff is good and all, but giving it a proper home where it will be cared for and preserved for future generations is just as important.”

✨ Consider his interest piqued. ✨Long, constant missions don’t leave him much time to hang around. But it isn’t the last time you see him. He seems to pick up odd jobs everywhere, when he wasn’t on a mission or fast asleep somewhere. One time he was handing out fliers, another he was running a second hand book store. But every time you saw him, he’d stop you to ask about the collection he left. About any excavations you’d been on, or research you’d done.

✨ He might not talk much about himself, potentially making you self conscious that you’re talking about yourself too often, but he’s just enthralled. He’d spent 214 years on this planet, and oh how times had changed in those two centuries. But your passion for the past, the one he knew and the one long before him? It frees him in.

✨ Expect him to “just so happen” to drop by the first time you’re on a long term excavation far from Linkon. He brushes off any questions of ‘how did you know I was here’ or ‘how did you get clearance for this’ with just flashing his UNICORNS identification. Wanderers, metaflux, you know the drill

✨Oh but the one time there was a Wanderer that showed up during an excavation? He was there in a heartbeat. ✨ Your passion for the past and the beauty of its preservation for the present and future caught his eye. While you might not have mummies or sorcerers chasing you down, there were real threats that did exist. But your fellow history fan had your back, from that point on.

🐠 Rafayel 🐠

🐠For a more in depth exploration, check out Trowels and Scales

🐠You two meet while you’re doing research on Lemuria, preparing for an underwater excavation. He’s polite but none too pleased.

🐠I mean, puh-lease, you think he’s gonna let this stinky human anywhere near his homeland? An archaeologist no less? Absolutely not

🐠He’s well read. He knows his history. He was present for it, anyway. He knows archaeology. He knows archaeologists. Just a fancy human way to say “thieving culture vultures with a dash of supremacy”. Absolutely not.

🐠That being said? He keeps an eye on you. Watches you from afar. You get spooked when the first phase of the Lemurian excavation goes south, so he takes that as a good sign.

🐠But still. He needs to keep an eye on you. But the more he does, and the more he “accidentally” runs into you, the more he finds his thoughts being challenged.

🐠You insisted on working alongside the community. You insisted on working with them, not against them, on being respectful.

🐠He doesn’t know what to think of you. You’re earnest. But you’re human! You’re an archaeologist! But the more he learns, the more he sees, the more he finds… he realizes you’re serious.

🐠He doesn’t open up fast. Far from it. It’s little tests here and there, seeing if you’re serious. His trust is hard to come by. But damn, you manage to get it. 🐠Maybe you’re useful in the long run. Having an archaeologist helping him? Good. It’s been a long time coming.

🐠But you’re cute. Really cute. That passion, your fervor for doing the right thing, for history and art…

🐠 Maybe there’s something here. Maybe. Now to get rid of that fake pearl around your neck…

❄️Zayne❄️

❄️ He was always quick to defend you growing up if other kids on the block made fun of you for your nerdy interests. An icy stare usually made them shut up.

❄️He had to admit, he liked the thought of you both being ‘doctors’ some day together. Him, cardiac surgery. You, archaeology. A social science is still a science, though you didn’t need to go to med school.

❄️You two lost touch when he moved away, only to meet again at a conference you both had been invited to. He was thoroughly surprised to see you.

❄️You could see the scars peeking out from under the sleeves of his collared shirt. He caught you staring, and at first cleared his throat while looking away. You merely rolled up your own sleeves, showing off the multitude of scars on your own forearms.

❄️”We match.” It was a surprise. While he knew your discipline meant the hazard of injury while in the field, he certainly hadn’t expected this. Your arms and hands were littered with small and big scars. As his eyes trailed over each one you smiled and pointed out what each one was from.

❄️Machete mishaps, things falling, accidents with students, a sharp tape measure retracted a little too close to skin (yes this has happened to me 🫠)

❄️Zayne didn’t know if he should scold you for being reckless, scold the people around you for being reckless, or both.

❄️He did both.

❄️The organizers noticed your chemistry and found out about your history together, and asked if you’d be interested in running a joint panel about the evolution of medical history, starting with what’s been found in ancient archaeological digs vs modern medicine. You agreed to make it a joint project for the conference the following year.

❄️Which meant meeting up on your days off (which were few and far between for the both of you), getting some drinks and macarons at his favorite bakery.

❄️Once the time came, it was one of the most anticipated cross-disciplinary panels to be hosted. Attended by medical students, anthropologists, archaeologists, and people just generally interested.

❄️You brought in some physical anthropologists to balance the history with the anatomy, while Zayne brought some of his colleagues with knowledge of old medical pathways.

❄️The whole event was a smashing success, praised across discipline for its thoroughness and its importance. Medical students understood the significance of the history of medicine, while anthropologists learned something new about the modern medical system.

❄️While schedules remained tight, your meetings with Dr. Zayne remained constant. Meeting up for drinks, macarons, and to review each others academic papers.

❄️Oh, and if you do pursue your doctorate? Know for a fact he’ll be there for your dissertation, front row, already wanting to rehost that panel once you’re a Dr. too

🐦‍⬛ Sylus 🐦‍⬛

🐦‍⬛I need to find and tag that person who said we should let Sylus loose on the British Museum, please let me know if you know who that person is because they’re RIGHT

🐦‍⬛Let’s say you two meet under… unsavory circumstances.

🐦‍⬛You were working on a high prestige excavation, only to find some of the precious jewels uncovered to have been stolen. Now this was a very important heritage site to the local community so on top of being frustrated and angry, you’re downright heartbroken.

🐦‍⬛You hear through the grapevine the thieves have an auction set up at the nest in Linkon. It’s ballsy, but you’re pissed enough as is, so you get yourself an invitation and show up.

🐦‍⬛No one recognized you (easy to get away with since you weren’t covered in the muck and grime of an excavation) so you watched and bide your time.

🐦‍⬛The auction starts, and already the price is high. People are bidding all over the place, and you just have to grind your teeth as you take mental notes to report this to the authorities. But you knew if it crossed the line into the N109 zone, it would likely never be seen again.

🐦‍⬛Finally, the highest bidder won. 5 million. Five. Million. Everyone else was bidding in the thousands, disappointing the thieves greatly, until a single low voice called out his number. The thieves not so subtly rejoiced.

🐦‍⬛You watch as a huge man slowly sidled up to where the jewel rested. His white hair and red eyes glowed in the low light of the club, and you nearly broke your martini glass. Typical rich assholes thinking they could just buy and sell precious relics with no regard to who they really belonged to.

🐦‍⬛You’d seen enough. You paid your tab and made your way out, ready to report this to the authorities when a black mist covered your mouth and pulled you backwards. You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t run. 🐦‍⬛”Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing these new jewels, sweetie.” That same low, baritone voice from the auction caught your attention. The black mist around your mouth vanished as the man cockily walked towards you, the jeweled draped over his hand. “I haven’t seen you here before. What are you?”

🐦‍⬛You knew better. You really did. You knew to keep your mouth shut. But you didn’t. You scoffed. “Just the person who found those jewels.”

“This isn’t finders, keepers, sweetie. I paid for these fair and square.”

“And those thieves that pawned them off to you stole them from an archaeological site! Those belong to their proper community.” You spat back. “I don’t want them. I want them to go back to where they do belong.”

🐦‍⬛There was a beat. A pause. In the shadows of the alley you couldn’t quite see his eyes. But the mist holding your wrists together dissipated as well. You didn’t make any stupid moves, gently rubbing your wrists as he simply hummed.

🐦‍⬛”I didn’t realize your kind were so… altruistic nowadays.” You scoffed.

🐦‍⬛”Times have changed. That doesn’t belong to you, or me, or those thieves. You’re right, this isn’t finders keepers. We’re not children.”

🐦‍⬛He walks off without another word, going back inside. You take the opportunity to get the hell out of dodge, before filing a police report.

🐦‍⬛You were thoroughly surprised the very next day to have your phone blown up by your contacts from that community, thrilled that some Good Samaritan returned the jewels in the night. The thieves had been apprehended and revealed to be smugglers who did this at multiple sites. You refused to take credit, that wasn’t you. But, who was it? It couldn’t have been that big man from the nest.

🐦‍⬛You started feeling watched from that point on. You’d catch glimpses of a crow tailing you. Hanging out outside your home.

🐦‍⬛Next excavation you were on confirmed your suspicions that the odd man with the white hair was your newfound hero. Another attempted robbery happened- only for the artifacts to be returned, the thieves dropped off with the police, and a note.

🐦‍⬛”Keep your sparkly things under lock and key, I could suggest a few supplies. -S”

🐦‍⬛ Whoever this ‘S’ man was, he seemed to have a vested interest in the proper homes for artifacts. So even with that crow following you around, it became a new sense of peace.

🐦‍⬛Sylus found you interesting. Very interesting. He returned that necklace and got his money back from those vagrants. Thievery wasn’t something that inherently bothered him. But preying on a community and stealing their artifacts? Absolutely not. He’s killed for less.

🐦‍⬛It takes him back to his space pirate days for a minute. This was a lot less showy than the last time he dealt with repatriating goods, but it got the job done. Now that you’d caught his eye, he had something much more valuable than any needless trinket.

🍎 Caleb 🍎

🍎Do you really think he doesn’t remember how you’ve wanted to do this since you were a child??? Come on. This is Caleb we’re talking about, here!

🍎Every history project, every mathematical equation, your college application, your grad school application. It got harder as you both got older, with him in the DAA. But he did his best to be as present as he could, to be a call away for any help you might need.

🍎But, secretly? He wouldn’t mind if you faltered somewhere along the way. Not that he didn’t want you to succeed! Not in the slightest.

🍎But the job was hard. Long, unforgiving. Publish or perish. You were stressed enough, and the weight of your pasts weighed heavily on his shoulders. A small part of him felt bitter. Why would you return to the world of science, when it had done you two so much harm? Not that you remembered.

🍎Then again… that passion. That commitment. The way your eyes lit up when you passionately told him one day you’d be off exploring the world, making new finds… how could he ever deny you? He couldn’t.

🍎So he helped look over your applications to suggest word changes. He helped coach you through it. While dendrochronology and radiocarbon dating might make his head spin, he listened to every word, more than happy to just be your duck so you could figure out the problem on your own.

🍎He cleared his schedule to come and watch you defend your thesis after grad school. He had a bouquet of flowers at the ready, already knowing you’d pass with flying colors.

🍎He’d be the first to know of every find. Every new gig. Your first excavation out of school, your squeals of excitement just made his life light up.

“Y’know, pipsqueak, one of the benefits of havin’ your own personal pilot is bein’ able to get to these gigs faster, and with better company!”

“Caleb!” You laugh, still thrilled and giggly over the newest job. The thrill of the work hadn’t yet faded. He hoped it never did, if it meant hearing you laugh like that. “You can’t ditch work every time I get a new job!”

“Yeahhhh? Wanna bet?” The playful lilt in his voice just made you grin harder, your cheeks hurting.

🍎Of course, he still ran background checks on every one of your coworkers. Every time you complained about a chauvinistic man in your crew he’d handle it himself.

🍎He’d watch closely, making sure he’d be the first to know if your signal got too faint while in a remote part of the site. And if there was ever an emergency, he’d often know before the supervisor of the site did. He’d be calling nonstop, asking if he needs to fly down there, sometimes not bothering to wait to ask.

Everyone's got their beliefs and little practices. Tara does tarot readings without anyone batting an eye, Xavier will pray at a shrine with others, and you have a full practice. As accepting as Linkon is, you know outright witchcraft was a little out of the norm

You keep it chill. You have an altar and keep it clean, honor your ancestors where appropriate, visit shrines, leave offerings. You have your main patron but you're not stingy with your respect.

You keep it on the down low, though. You discuss how sassy your tarot deck is getting with you around Tara in public leave it at that.

When you get into a relationship with Rafayel? You know you have to come out of the (broom) closet eventually, but you start slow.

You discuss some tarot readings where he showed up, to which Rafayel expresses interest. Unless it's bad, then he scoffs.

"What would a stack of cards know about us >:("

You add in some herbal knowledge, maybe drop hints about deity work

But then Ebb and Flow happens. Finding out your boyfriend is basically a merman makes you feel a looooot less guilty about dabbling in magic and not telling him.

Shortly after you just come out and say it, he isn't surprised, but you can't help but catch a weird glint in his eye. Like a fleeting glimpse of deja vu.

Things smooth out from there. With these big secrets off both your chests you move on. You're pleasantly surprised to find him showing off his own knowledge of magic over time, teasingly cursing you in Lemurian, showing his knowledge of tarot during an abyssal chaos commission, and eventually revealing he, too, is a god.

As shocked as you are, it makes sense. He makes your hair stand on end the same way other presences do during a prayer or ritual. At first you chalked it up to how he always made your heart flutter, but look at him. Look at him and say you aren't surprised he's divine.

The first time he visits your place is what surprises both of you the most.

Your altar is in a private space and he doesn't go out of his way to snoop (to your knowledge), but you do catch him staring at the statue of your patron deity.

"Y/N." His voice, melodic as always, was tense. "Tell me that isn't what I think it is." You turned, peering into the corner of the room where your small altar lay. It was humble, a couple of dried flower petals, a bowl for offerings, and the statue. You shrug.

"It's an altar."

"Yeah. And it isn't for me." He turned to you, a look akin to absolute betrayal on his face. You poked his cheek.

"Yeah, well, last I checked you're my boyfriend. What are you first? My boyfriend, or my god?" He immediately opened his mouth, ready to answer. But he paused. He lifted a finger to his chin, breaking eye contact. The silence hung in the air for a few moments as he attempted to puzzle the answer for himself.

"Both...?"

"I'm not gonna lie, wouldn't that make us have a huge power imbalance?" You kept teasing him, even as that bottom lip jutted out.

"No, you still have the bond, it's not like I'm gonna force you to do anything." There's the pouty fishie you know and love. He seemed almost genuinely distraught that you were paying attention to other gods. "But isn't this, like... cheating? Or something?"

"If that were true, I started working with these gods long before I knew who you were." You chastised right back. He was immediately ready to argue with you, but caught himself before he could. He groaned.

"Okay. Whatever. Just- make me one, too. I wanna be included."

And thus, the hunt for proper tools for a sea themed new altar began. The first part was easy, repurposing some of Rafayel's gifts. The jar full of sand and seashells was first to go on, along with a beautiful blue scarf he got you for an altar cloth. A little ceramic bowl he made became the offering bowl. Rafayel gifted you seashells with the expectation that they be placed on his altar, and you were happy to oblige. You found out his favorite scents for designated candles.

You were tempted to get a designated oracle deck for him, but he talked you out of it.

"If you want my advice on something, just call me, cutie." He was quick to flick your forehead as well. While you'd received the spiritual equivalent of a Gibbs slap from ancestors and deities before, this was a new ride in and of itself.

Oh, but it was wholeheartedly mutual. You couldn't just date a god and not banter back. You couldn't just sever the relationships you did have, nor did you want to, so you still spent time with your patron deity. A prayer here, a reading there, an offering where appropriate.

Every. Single. Time. Without fail. Rafayel would call or text you.

You had just lit some incense, leaving a bowl full of fruit for the deity, clasping your hands and murmuring your prayer before your phone loudly began to ring. You recognized the song you had set up for your beloved, so you answer your phone.

"I know that isn't for who I think it's for, is it?" There was no greeting. No 'hello love of my life', no 'hi cutie', just straight to sharply asking about the offering.

"I was just about to get to yours! I light incense for you, you know, if you want fruit I'll buy you some and come by Whitesand."

"Cutieeeee, I should be your patron, not them! I'm your boyfriend and your god!"

"Well technically since I'm not a Lemurian-"

"No. It counts." He came off a little sharper than intended, you could tell by his immediate sigh. "It counts." His voice softened. "You're still my follower."

"I am, yes, I am your follower. I am also your partner and beloved bodyguard. If you really want my prayers, I can just call or text you. If you want offerings, I can swing by with some takeout for dinner?" You glanced at the incense burning, the scented smoke filling the room in the most satisfying way. The smoke began to curl and shift. It seemed aquatic.

And from that alone you knew why you felt the air shift. You smiled, speaking gently into your receiver. "I got that oceanic incense you recommended the other day, baby. Want me to burn it while I place the order?"

"... yes, please."

Your other deities were rarely so polite. Though, of course, you weren't dating them. Your dynamics were different. They could be sassy through tarot cards, or the flame of a candle spitting back at you when you went to extinguish it. Rafayel could just be sassy to your face. That perfect bottom lip jutting out as his ears turned red.

Rafayel was unlike any god you had every worked with. But something about him felt familiar anyway. So you lit his incense, put it in his incense holder, on his altar. Pictures of the two of you decorating it, his gifts littered about, signs of his affection for you everywhere.

One in the morning. The red numbers seemed to scream at you. You rub your eyes, determined to pass this orbit before you go to bed. You just finished your last bit of work, and you gave yourself thirty minutes of leisure Love and Deepspace time before you went to bed. You're in your coziest pajamas, curled up in bed, propped on a few different pillows.

Protocores? Maxxed.

Cards? Awakened.

Companion? Lumiere.

The new Xavier myth was right around the corner, and all you wanted was to grind for gems before he dropped. That tyrant king would be yours. But work and homework alike had been kicking your ass, so game time had been severely limited. 

You start the battle. You dash to the start point, Xavier teleporting in not far behind you. Those stupid twirling wanderers had been kicking your ass, but with a boost to protocores you were determined to make this work. You had two minutes, then you had to beat round two. 

Shoot. Dash. Dodge. 

Resonate. Shoot. Dodge. Resonate again. 

You use the special attack, and with your fight pattern on lock, you manage to beat both rounds.

"Yes!" You pump your fist in the air, whisper yelling in victory. Your MC sassily compliments Xavier, but he says a new line of dialogue you hadn't heard before.

"Well done, partner. Now let's go rest."

You claim the rewards from the battle, cocking your head. Was there a background update with new battle voice lines? It didn't really matter, you just got an extra forty gems towards Xavier's new myth. You exit the deepspace trials and find Xavier on your homescreen. Unlike usual, he stood in front of the screen. Not in the chair. He cocked his head, the sleep reminder popping up. "It's late." He commented, approaching the screen. "It's time to get some sleep. Do you want me to join you?" The sleep option popped up. Again, this was new dialogue. You hit the no option this time around, a tired smile slipping onto your face.

"You'd keep me up all night, Xavie." You murmur. "You talk too much in your sleep." You boop his nose. He defaulted into a shy pose, turning to look away while rubbing the back of his neck. The next option, when to meet up the next day, appeared. 

"When do you want to meet up in the morning? It's okay if you're late, sleep as much as you need to." You scroll through the options before selecting the time. Unfortunately you needed to be up early for work. Crunch time was upon you, and some morning pep talks from the sleepy bunny before you would help. 

"That early?" He tilted his head, concern in his tone. Huh. There must have been some background update you weren't aware of. The voice actor was really putting some extra emotion into his lines, he was amazing as is but something about these new lines were even more lifelike than before.

"Mm hm." You chuckle. "That early. See you tomorrow." You go ahead and exit the game, turning to your real alarm outside the game. You go ahead and add the same alarm, turning off snooze just to be safe. With your phone plugged up beside your bed, your alarm up, cozy pajamas on, and lights out, you were ready to go to bed. So you did what you always do. You curled up. You thought of your sweet, aloof, Xavier. And soon you drift off to sleep.

You had sweet dreams about him. Some kind of odd plot mix of the events of Lightseeker into Lumiere into the new myth. Your mind came up with a convoluted story of how he changed from myth to myth, before settling on the rich possibilities in the newest portion of the timeline. The fallen tyrant king with long hair, the dark knight. The same sweet, aloof, caring character he had always been muddled by the events that lead to him being called a tyrant.

But darkness must give way to light. So your dreams gave way to reality, sunlight streaming in your window. It was a pleasant surprise to wake up before your alarm. So you stretch. Yawn. You readjust how you were laying down, about to settle in when you took a look at your digital clock. Adrenaline hits you like a truck.

Your alarm didn't go off. 

You snatch your phone off the nightstand to verify, and to your horror the other clock was right. You immediately go to the alarm function, finding the alarm turned off. You toss your covers off and fly into a frenzy to get ready for the day. Hair pulled back as fast as possible, teeth brushed haphazardly, clothes thrown on. You select the game in the background as you run around. Keys, bag, wait shit you forgot deodorant, was this shirt dirty-?

"Ah, there you are." Xavier's voice broke you out of your frenzy. You look at your phone, eyes narrowed. You hold your deodorant stick at your phone threateningly. "I'm glad you got to sleep in today." He tilted his head, a soft, warm smile gracing his face. He was in that oversized, cream colored sweater. The one that made him look like an oversized teddy bear. The perfect size for cuddles. 

"I'm gonna be late!" You hiss, as if he was the one who did this to you. "If I didn't know any better I'd blame you!" You add, hurriedly putting on the deodorant before putting it away. You grab your earphones and pop them in, connecting your phone to them so you'd be the only one to hear him. Xavier didn't react to your accusations, smiling gently like usual. 

"Why don't we get breakfast together? My treat." More default dialogue came out of his mouth. But you were flying down the stairs as fast as you could after locking your door. 

"Yeah, yeah." You grumble. You just barely make it to the bus, and as soon as you sit down you pull your phone out of your pocket. Xavier still stood before you, tilting his head with those big eyes he used. You huff. "You're so lucky you're cute." You go in to the exercise function, letting him say his other lines before skipping ahead to the five minute timer. You'd been grinding for the sixty day achievement for the extra gems, and letting the timer run in the background during the commute was one of the best ways to do it. Working a couple of different odd jobs kept you busy, but you found little pockets of time to play. You turn the volume down so you didn't have his pants and groans in your ear first thing in the morning. But you can't help but smile anyway. Xavier had become your constant companion during the day, having little check ins during your breaks or commute. 

Unfortunately, most of your grinding had to be at night. After getting home from one job it was on to the next, plus homework for the online degree you were working towards. He'd stay with you to work or study, and when you needed a break from the frustration you'd beat up Wanderers with him. But staying up too late with the notoriously sleepy character had turned into a bad habit. Your sleep was suffering for it. The dark circles under your eyes were visible, and you couldn't be asked to cover them up at the moment. You'd just try to make tonight an earlier bedtime. Catch up over the weekend. 

As your destination slowly appeared before you, you check again and find the timer had already ended. Xavier had already said his piece, and was waiting for you to acknowledge it. His brow was slightly furrowed, his head tilted to the side. You assume you caught the tail end of an idle animation and skip through his dialogue again. "Sorry bud, gotta go to work. We'll talk later." You slowly stand up, heading towards the front of the bus as you tuck your phone away. "If I didn't know any better I'd be blaming him for my alarm this morning." You leave the joke to yourself, thanking the bus driver as you hop off and take long strides towards the cafe you work at. Much like the kitty cards cafe in game, you work at a cat and game cafe in town. It didn't pay super well but it covered some things, and it wasn't a horrible job to do. Between cleaning and preparing drinks you got to love on sweet kitties and talk with your regulars. 

You push open the door. The combined scent of freshly ground coffee, freshly brewed tea, and cat treats mingled in the air. You hurriedly shut the door behind you as a blur of fur made a mad dash towards you. 

"Puffball!" You grin, dropping to your knees as the ragdoll trilled in greeting. You extend your hand, but he doesn't bother to sniff it. He headbutts it before immediately rubbing himself all over you. The cafe had gotten custody of the precious furball after the end of the latest college semester. He had been an emotional service animal but wasn't cared for well, so he was surrendered. The cafe took him in and gave him a fresh start, so you named him after the silly bird that frequented Xavier and Miss Hunter's apartment complex. Fatso and Alarm Clock didn't fit him. Besides, his color markings reminded you of Xavier's Yes Cat Caretaker patterns. He had quickly become your little shadow, trilling and following you wherever you went.

You go ahead and give him some pets and some love before standing up. He followed you, tail straight up as you walk to the back to clock in. You exchange your bag and earbuds for your apron and nametag, before beelining it back to the counter. Your coworker looked up, an exhausted but bemused look on her face. "Morning, sleepyhead. You're lucky the boss isn't in today. What got you in a rush?"

"My alarm didn't go off this morning, but I know for a fact I set it." You shrug, jumping in to help once you cleaned your hands. Luckily it looked like the closers from the night before did a good job, everything was clean and where it belonged. You jumped in to help arrange the baked goods from the bakery down the road, starting to arrange them all nicely in the display case.

"Too busy thirsting over Xavier's new myth?" She added with a sly, knowing grin. You shoot up, ready to defend yourself, but end up hitting your head on the edge of the counter. You wince and rub your head. 

"Heyyyyy…" You whine. "It's hot, okay? The long hair, the Dark Souls vibe… he gets written off as the jealous, sleepy, bad cook one all the time! I'm just happy they're showing off that other side of him."

"No need to defend yourself to me, I get it. Whenever Zayne's new myth drops I'm gonna be salivating." She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Us little stars and jasmines gotta stick together! They call our men boring, but we know the truth!" You rub your head before returning to pastry placement duty.

"Yeah, they'd know that isn't true at all if they watched their Catch 22 memories. Or just, you know, read the anecdotes." Each pastry got placed inside with care and precision. Though as you adjusted the cat shaped buns you found your mind drifting to Xavier's jealousy towards Charlie. His jealousy knows no bounds. Even bread can face his wrath. You let yourself chuckle over the thought while closing the display case. You dust off your hands and switch to the cups, going to the back to gather supplies. You grab the to go cups, but focus on ensuring there were plenty of normal cups. Most people who came by weren't looking for a grab and go drink. They came for the cats. So they'd get a drink and settle in for a nice time with kitties. Some, like Puffball, were well behaved and friendly to all patrons. Others preferred to watch from a distance. 

You glance at the time. Thankfully, set up and opening was running smoothly. In a few minutes, you would switch the sign from 'closed' to 'open'. The day would officially begin. And it would be a whirl of caring for the cats, serving drinks and pastries, and gossiping with your coworker. At least most days went by fast.

However, sometimes the speed could be a bad thing. A symptom of a bigger issue.

The day flew by, it was a whirlwind of spilled drinks, naughty cats, and bitchy customers. There was never enough time to worry about one problem at a time. On a day that should have been fairly laid back you instead had coffee stains all over your shirt, a new couple of scratches from some particularly irritable kitties, and a pounding headache from the last customer who screamed at you. Puffball, ever your hero, yowled and chased away both cats and people who hurt you. But you still had to deal with the fallout. You even missed the window for stamina and your daily lunch check in with Xavier. You saw the notification, a gentle reminder to have something to eat, but you hardly get to process it before there's more chaos. 

As much as you hated being late it was probably to your advantage that you slept in. You trudge your way onto the bus, flopping into your seat with a bone deep exhaustion you were all too used to. You run your fingers down your face, finding new stains on the edges of your cheeks you hadn't noticed in the rush. You yank your sleeve over the heel of your hand and aggressively wipe away whatever stains there may be, all while clumsily fumbling with your phone in your other hand. You have your earbuds in, the game opening, and a few minutes of respite before you'd need to do some classwork at home.

Caleb greeted you first in the login page's animation, but you hurriedly log in to see your beloved bunny. Thankfully he was waiting for you, head resting on the table with an open book in front of him. You claim the stamina late with five extra gems, grumbling to yourself all the while. 

"Five gems for stamina, you're fucking lucky I like you so much." You huff, before jumping over to get more bottles of wishes for the upcoming myth. You handle the daily tasks but leave interacting with Xavier for the last one. You weren't sure what it was, sometimes the morning wake ups counted, sometimes they didn't. They didn't this morning, but given your rush you weren't all that surprised. You come back to the main homepage where Xavier was still sound asleep. You start poking him, expecting a couple more before he lifted his head. But it only took two for him to wearily look up.

"You're back." He lifted his head, blinking blearily at the screen. You lift your eyebrows in pleasant surprise. There had to have been some kind of background update with new voiced lines for the English localization. He normally didn't say anything out loud when he popped his head up, it would just be a dialogue box with no audio. You rub your finger on the screen, tousling his hair as his avatar popped from the seated position to standing in front of the screen. "Where did you go?" He cocked his head, that big eyes default animation making you smile.

"At work, bunny. Gotta make money so I can afford my phone so I can keep playing this game." The bus was empty. So you answered him out loud, as if he could hear you. "We're kinda alike. I gotta work a couple different odd jobs to make ends meet. I just don't secretly work for intel hubs and have a bounty on my head while at it. Shame." You laugh to yourself. Xavier lifted his head, smiling. 

"It's good to see you in a good mood." He added. Again, new dialogue? You liked it. It felt more dynamic. You could understand why the chatting function with key words they respond to is only for the Chinese fans who pay for it, but at the same time you wished you could just chat with Xavier. As aloof as he is, he's a great listener, and he's lived long enough to have sound insight and good advice on many things in life. As much as Sylus's advice was solid when using the tete-a-tete function was, you wanted to see what these characters' real reactions would be to phrases, words, and situations.

"Not really." You scoff, switching to that exact function. You filter through the options before settling on 'something bad happened'. His brow furrowed again, his head dropping.

"What happened? You can talk to me. I'll listen." His voice, already soft and breathy, softened further in concern.

"Work was a bitch today." You plop your chin in your hand, cracking a wry smile at your phone. "I was late to work. Then the rush was horrible. Some of the cats were in some kind of mood and scratched me up pretty bad, I don't know what happened. Some of them were just bigger menaces than usual. Multiple cups got broken, customers were yelling at me and my coworker, I didn't really get a break with the chaos…" You bite back tears of frustration. "Puffball was defending me, that sweet boy. Went after all the cats that were mean, spitting and hissing. I don't know what got into them today… But it just-" Your voice cracked. You were exhausted. And still, you had so much to do before you could rest. You could feel tears of frustration prick at your eyes, and you aggressively wipe them away with your sleeve. Now was not the time. 

Xavier's eyes, soft as they were, only softened further. Wide, concerned eyes that reached into your soul. "You sound exhausted." He murmured, his voice directly in your ears. "Come rest with me. Sleep, then try again tomorrow." Surprisingly sound advice. Usually he'd say something off base, and you'd cycle through various pre programmed responses before settling on something somewhat applicable. 

"Can't. Have to finish that project for my class. It's due tomorrow." You sigh. The bus slowly rolled to a stop. So you stand, briefly pocketing your phone as you hurry to the front. You nod to the bus driver politely, and he gave you a sympathetic look. As sweet as the gesture may be, all it made you do was want to hide. You hurry off, dashing into your apartment building and running up the stairs. You're breathless by the time you reach the door, and you fumble with the keys before letting yourself in. Once the door was shut and locked behind you, you breathe a shuddery sigh of relief. You haphazardly kick your shoes off, leaving them in the entry area. You trudge back to your room and flop into your chair. You'd change into indoor clothes in a minute. You prop your phone on a lamp, turning on your computer so you could get to work. "I just… it's a lot." You sigh, brushing something off the hem of your shirt when you touch something wet and sticky.

"Ew." A grimace made its way to your face, and you quickly change your mind. You turn the upper half of your body, yanking the dirty shirt off of you as fast as possible. If it wasn't dirty before, it certainly is now. You don't know what the mysterious stain is, and the mix of smells than finally hits you doesn't help identify it. "Ew!" You throw the shirt towards the hamper, grabbing a different oversized shirt. Your earbuds are still in, so you catch a cough. Your eyes dart towards your phone and find Xavier looking away, rubbing the back of his neck. You tug the shirt on over your head before popping your arms through. "Ugh, and now I need to do laundry…" 

"Maybe you should take a break." Xavier looked back at the screen once more. You crack a wry smile.

"Wow, you're suspiciously on the ball today, Xavi." You rub your face again, scooting your chair in before getting the project up on your computer. "I'm gonna be fine, I just had a rough day today." You go ahead and tap the all done option, prompting Xavier to go into his closing advice.

"I'll be your confidant whenever you need one." He nodded to the screen. "You don't have to do this alone."

You exhale, a bitter laugh on the tip of your tongue. "Right." You switch from Tete-a-Tete to Quality Time, speeding through his comments to get to the options. You select work, and breeze through his dialogue again until you get him sitting in the Destiny's Cafe with a book. With that done, you turn back to your computer. The project in front of you, covered in unresolved edits and notes from your professor. Some were minor things, a grammatical error, or a missing comma. Some were bigger, like claims that required additional research, which would need more time to find. You groan, but get to it.

Top to bottom. Again, some of the minor edits were in and out. Add comma, remove comma. Fix the typo. Edit the sentence. Resolve, resolve, resolve. Watching the number of your professor's comments dwindle was satisfying. But the audio in your ears was starting to feel grating. You read a comment the prof left once. Twice. Wait, that didn't make sense. A third time. You groan, removing an earbud. "Fuck, wish I could turn off the audio…" The murmuring and quiet music in the study/work function sometimes got on your nerves. You'd be better off turning off the audio entirely at the moment. You take out the other earbud and put them on the desk. Letting Xavier read while you continued your work. More research, more grammar, more punctuation. 

It's mind numbing, at times. But you could feel yourself slipping into that more rigorous mindset. The annotations weren't as bothersome, the edits coming easier. Resolve, resolve, resolve. More and more of your professor's comments began to vanish. You resolved each one after correcting the issue. It was satisfying watching each one vanish. 

CRASH!

You nearly jump out of your seat, whipping your head around to the wall you shared with your next door neighbors. Obnoxious, drunken laughter soon followed the loud crash, as well as yelling.

Typical. 

You groan, but try to focus. Back to the grind. Edit, resolve. Edit, resolve. Find more research, edit, cite, resolve. 

But the crashing, yelling and laughter continued. You were lucky to have a courteous roommate, one who was mindful of noise and time. But they'd gone to visit friends for the upcoming three day weekend. They were never an issue. But your next door neighbors were. The two guys would have friends over often- something you didn't begrudge them- but they had no courtesy for anyone else. They'd be yelling, screaming, and breaking things all throughout the night. You'd had some noise canceling headphones in an online shopping cart for months but you were regretting not getting them sooner.

The music and muttering in game drove you nuts, but at least it would block out some of the noise from your neighbors. Besides, you knew they were only going to get worse as the night wore on since it was a weekend. You groan again, cursing and muttering about them as you pop your earbuds in. At first no sound came out, other than the occasional hum or the sound of a page being flipped. You squint, tapping your phone screen. Checking your audio level. "Huh." You mutter. "New bug." You'd had music cut out on you before, but not like this. This was a new one. But it worked in your favor. The earbuds physically blocked some of the noise, while Xavier's occasional hums and the sound of his thumb on the paper helped block out smaller sounds.

It allowed you to get back to work. You kept adding thirty minutes every so often, grinding away at the edits through the multi page paper. After the fourth or fifth one, you'd lost track, you finally found yourself at the bottom. You scan over your bibliography one last time. Ensuring everything was cited properly. Once you were certain everything looked good and every edit was resolved, you save and resubmit the edited version. You watch your email like a hawk until the confirmation email comes through. Your body slumps into your seat, folding like a lawn chair now that the stress of the situation had been alleviated. And look, you even finished before midnight! 

The timer function appeared on your phone, asking if you'd like to spend some more time with Xavier or be done for the night. You select cancel, a weary smile on your face as he appears before you again. His eyes a little wider, his smile a little brighter. 

"Are you done? I want to take a nap… Until next time." His animation didn't fit his words. Instead of rubbing his eyes and swaying on his feet, he looks straight at you. Eyes a little wider. Smile a little brighter. Little balls of light even glowed around him, like in scenes where he was exceedingly happy but had a hard time showing it otherwise. Huh. Buggy night. Those animations shouldn't be happening now. You shrug it off, figuring with whatever new update they did a few bugs came with it. No biggy, you'd report it come morning. 

You go about your nightly routine with a touch less weight on your shoulders. The assignment was done, you had a three day weekend ahead of you, and Xavier's new myth was about to drop. A simple dinner, a quick shower, and cozy pajamas set up the night to be a bit more peaceful. You were too exhausted to do the orbits yourself, so you open them up and put them on auto. You set your phone on the bedside table. You stare at the ceiling, hearing the occasional thud and laugh from your neighbors. And the occasional grunt or line of dialogue from Xavier or MC. Tomorrow is a day off, one long overdue, but you still need to get up and do laundry. The laundry room was always crazy busy during weekends, and you have a feeling it'll be even worse tomorrow. You groan loudly. You'd need to set an alarm to get there before every single one is claimed and hoarded. 

Besides. It wouldn't really be a full three days off, anyway. You had some more homework to organize, tasks to take care of. But at least you didn't need to go in to any physical jobs. You toss an arm over your eyes before blowing a raspberry.

"It's just for now." You mutter. You pick up your phone again to find the orbit completed, so you check the next one. Unfortunately you don't have high enough level cards in the stellactrum, and while you could brute force it you didn't want to wait anymore. You were tired. You yawn, exiting the game entirely as you go back to your alarm. You turn one on, later than you usually need to get up. You could sleep in a little bit, just not as much as you'd like. And for good measure, you take a screenshot of it. Just to assure yourself you actually set it. 

Phone on bedside table. Pajamas on. Sheets pulled up. Everything was just right. So you slowly exhale, and settle in. The exhaustion of the long day finally left, fading away as you fade into sleep.

It was another slow start to the day. Sun streaming in through the blinds, birds singing outside the building. You slowly crack one eye open. Warily eyeing the sunlight. While you didn't need to be up at the crack of dawn, it did seem a little too bright to be the time you set your alarm to. You lazily reach out, patting your bedside table until you found your phone. You check the time.

"Bastard." You groan. Second time in a row. You select love and deepspace as you toss off the covers. You slip on some house shoes, and tug on a sweater over your pjs. As the game loads up you pop in your headphones and grab your basket of laundry and supplies. Xavier appeared on the screen with a self-satisfied smile on his face. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he looked damn near proud of himself.

"I'm glad you slept in today. You haven't been sleeping well recently, so it's good to catch up on sleep." He tilted his head, his warm smile lowering your defenses and your frustration. But you still huff. You don't say anything, skipping through his responses to get to his exercise function. You mute the game and exit your apartment, heading to the laundry room. To your pleasant surprise, there was exactly one washing machine not in use. And it wasn't one of the shitty ones, either! You immediately claim it. You load up the machine with the clothes that needed washing, add the cleaning agent, and set the thing to run as long as the size of the load needed. With that task out of the way, you can go back to your room and make yourself something to eat. 

It didn't take long, so as you make your way back into your room you pull your phone out of your pocket. Xavier had just finished up his workout routine, so he was standing with a hand on his hip. Waiting for you. The normal dialogue didn't come up. You brush it off, unmuting the game as you put your phone on the counter. You exit the exercise function. The exercise achievement appeared in the corner of the screen, so with a little 'yes!' you go and claim the reward. You claim the extra gems with a grin. Every little bit helped. You go and check the other guys' achievements. Zayne's was also sitting at 59 days. That would be an easy extra 50 gems, so you go back to the main screen. Xavier had reverted to his red cardigan, with no other accessories. He watched you with a little smile, but his eyes seemed to be moving. Like he wasn't looking at your face- he was looking at you.

You scoff, rubbing your eyes. "I'm overworking." You mutter to yourself. You've gotta be seeing things at this rate. You'd been working your ass off, but it was all to a good cause. You only have to share your space with one roommate. You can make consistent payments on your loans. You enjoy your coworkers. You can even talk about the game in between customers with your favorite coworker. But that didn't make long days any less long, or rude customers any less rude. At least Puffball seemed to be perpetually on your side. You might as well do some remote work for your other job, check on some admin stuff from home while the laundry is running. 

You get what you need to make a simple breakfast. Xavier remained on the screen, waiting patiently for your attention. You glance at the screen. Might as well go ahead and get that other achievement. You tap on the switch character menu, turning everyone off except for Zayne. You go to confirm, and the main cafe came back.

With Xavier.

You hum. You go and do it again, turning everyone off except for Zayne, then go back. Xavier was still there. On a hunch, you select Rafayel instead. But it happened again. Xavier remained. He blinked innocently at the screen. You prop a hand on your hip, eyes narrowing.

"Now if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're the one doing this." You wag a finger, mostly teasing, but as crazy as it sounded it was starting to feel real. Between all the other incidents over the past couple of days it was clear something weird was going on. "Come on. Be a good boy. Let me get those other fifty gems. I need them for your myth, anyway." You wag your finger at him. He blinked innocently again. You groan. "Okaaayyy, I'm just gonna let you play the claw machine. Fine, fine, whatever." You go ahead and switch to the playtime function. You select Xavier again. He appeared in the same clothing as before, the red version of his sweater from his school days. The dialogue for it didn't appear. "Damn, the game is really acting weird…" You mutter. You go ahead and select the 'you go first' option, spamming his arm before setting your phone down again.

You return to your primary task of making breakfast. Between rounds you'd spam his arm with your pinky before going back to prepping. It didn't take long to whip something up, so you sit down with your phone still propped on the counter. He was exceptionally lucky. Not once did he need to cheat. And for some reason every single one of the plushies in the machine were ones you hadn't encountered before. "Go Xavier," You grin. You spam his arm again and he sharply turns, looking at the camera that divided his realm and yours. 

"Let's go for a few more rounds." He smiled. Your eyebrows furrow.

"Huh? That's Rafayel's line…" But true to his word, the icon in the corner went blank. It flickered between a few different numbers, all while Xavier reached into his pocket and pulled out a token. He slipped it into the machine. The icon continued to flicker before it eventually just vanished. Xavier went right back to the machine while you sat there with food almost hanging out of your mouth. "What the fuck is happening with this game?" You don't bother spamming his arm anymore. This is weird. Too weird, even for you. You card your fingers through your hair as he emptied the entire machine. Over and over again, the new plushie reward icon appeared in the corner. You easily would have the extra 20 gems from the collection rewards. Finally, Xavier emptied the entire machine and reappeared with the MC carrying all of the plushies. Her dialogue didn't appear, and Xavier's little smile had grown a little brighter.

There were lights glowing around him again.

"How'd I do, partner?" 

"What the fuck?" You stare on in shock. It didn't sound or look like he was speaking to MC- no. His eyes cut through her character model. He saw right through her. He saw you. You shudder, snatching your phone, tapping the screen a few times. He flinched away from a tap directly to the face, one eye squeezing shut. 

"Did you want another plushie? We have two more tries, we can get more."

"No," You point at him with your free hand. "No, don't act like this is normal. You can… you can see me? Hear me? Are you talking to me?" He blinked a couple of times, eyes darting from the plushies in the disembodied arms to you. 

"Yes…?" He cocked his head. "No one else is here. So it's just me and you." He was blinking again. Playing innocent. But you knew him too well at this point. Overanalyzed every line of dialogue, every story. He wasn't the wide eyed, innocent bunny he often portrayed himself to be. 

"Don't." You snap, the word coming out harsher than you had intended. You pause. Slow. Take a deep breath. "Don't. Don't play coy. I know you, Xavier. I know you better than MC does. She's figured out some of your tricks, but I know the fully story." He listened closely to your words, his eyes momentarily widening in realization. He blinks again.

"Really?"

"Really. Lumiere, Prince of Philos, Starfall Forest, the Backtrackers, going back in time to try to save MC, watching her die in multiple lifetimes…" You drift off, illustrating a timeline with your hand. "A little out of order, but yeah. I know. So don't try and act like you're innocent. I know you're a wolf in sheep's clothing." He listened intently to each word that came out of your mouth. His position remained relaxed. One hand on his hip, the other dangling by his side. But as reality settled on his shoulders his eyebrows lowered. His eyes narrowed. 

From prey, to predator.

"Good to know we're on the same page, then." In spite of it all he didn't seem frustrated. No, he seemed… Honestly a little relieved. He could drop the act. The mask was gone. 

"Not really." You correct him. You stand up, grabbing your phone again as you go to your room. You shut and lock the door behind you. This was too real to be a dream. For good measure, you pinch yourself. The sharp pain was a reminder this was, in fact, real. Your roommate shouldn't be back today but you figured it'd be best to do this in private. "I just… what? What the fuck is happening here? When did this start?" You gesture to the screen. Xavier hummed, crossing one arm over his chest while the other tapped his chin.

"A few days ago, if I remember correctly. I heard your voice, and I knew it wasn't hers." He looked back at you. His motions were much more fluid, less practiced and more human. He turned to face you again. "Then, I noticed gaps in my memory. Going in and out of the Orbit Trials. Being drawn to the Destiny Cafe more often. Only to forget what I was doing." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I wondered if I wasn't sleeping well… then I saw you. Just… out of the corner of my eye. Then I heard you more." You weren't sure how to respond. So you let him continue. You listen intently, settling into a chair as he went on. "Then I noticed you weren't sleeping as much. I have my experience with technology so I started playing around and…" He glanced away. Sheepish. "You needed the sleep, but I didn't mean to make you late to work."

You laugh in disbelief. "It really was you… I was just joking when I accused you."

"I figured." He looked up. "I didn't think I was that obvious."

"No, I'd just been reading too many fanfics-" You cut yourself off, coughing. "Nevermind." If he can access your separate alarm app, he might be able to access tumblr. He does not need to know what you've read about him. Or written, for that matter. That's between you, the gods, and your grave. "No, you really weren't, but there was too much going on at once. Messing with my alarm twice in a row, turning off the music, not letting me exercise with Zayne, the random changes in dialogue, then stealing Rafayel's line… it was all kind of weird. Now this." You gesture between him and yourself. You were speaking semi-rationally, but it was because a part of you still figured this was a dream. A sleep deprived, overworked brain trying to come up with some fun wish fulfillment. Reality hadn't settled in yet. 

Xavier slowly nodded. In a flash, the setting changed. The menu for memories didn't even appear you were right back in the Destiny's Cafe. Xavier was dressed the same way, but MC's arms were no longer in front of you. Xavier moved languidly, a new ease settling on his shoulders. "Whatever system this is, it's surprisingly uncomplex. If Jeremiah saw this he'd be able to take the code apart easily."

"But… you're code, too." You point out. "All of this is code. You, the setting, the clothes, the dialogue." He sat down in the chair. The cafe was empty, as always, but now there wasn't any music. It was quiet. 

"I'm not sure of that." He disagreed. "Something is… different. And I know I'm not the only one with this level of awareness. The other guys…" he tapped his chin. "I'm not sure how much they know. I don't cross paths with them. That was intentionally designed. None of us are supposed to cross paths."

"But you technically have, with Sylus." You point out. "You destroyed Onychinus's protocores as Lumiere." Xavier's eyes cut up.

"Sylus is associated with Onychinus?" 

You facepalm. "I thought you would've known that if you were fucking with the code. You know, making yourself aware of the broader story? Seeing what EVER is up to?" Xavier shook his head.

"Not a priority." He cracked a smile. "But thanks. That's good to know."

"What're you gonna do now that you know, anyway? What happens behind the scenes? Just… go back to living life as usual? Back to fighting Wanderers?" You watch him. He fell quiet. His eyebrows drawn tight, a tiny flicker of confusion on his face.

"I… suppose there's nothing else to do. Until my ship is fixed we're all still stranded here."

"Like you have been for a hundred and fourteen years." You nod along slowly. His eyes cut up to you again. He watched you. Assessing you. You sit in silence, allowing him to process his thoughts. You knew your reaction was… subpar. Far too calm. Far too reserved. You're here, talking to your favorite character, and he sees you. All of you. His gaze was no longer a preprogrammed general view. No. He sees you.

Maybe that was the most terrifying part of it all.

You decided the impending crashout can be saved for later. Xavier had been watching you the entire time, his head slightly tilted. Thinking. Deeply.

"How far can this go?" You suddenly ask. "You've messed with my alarm. Don't do that again, by the way. You're messing with the game somehow. How far can this go? Can you get into my other apps, does it depend on if it's something your game can have associations with…" It drew him out of his thoughts. He shrugged.

"I'm not sure." He admitted. "I'm going to run more tests. I can access your alarm. And it appears whatever it is going on around us, I have access to some of your forms of social media." You think for a second.

"Okay, social media… I've sent a friend who plays the game, so I'll send her pictures from time to time. So that makes sense. The game needs to know what time it is so having access to time and alarm functions makes sense as well." How far would this go? How far could this go? Was he going to be playing tricks or getting into messes? No, no. You know him. He's too careful for that. You looked up, and find him watching you again. Analyzing. You scoff a laugh. "You're oddly calm about this."

"So are you." He tilted his head to the side. 

"Yeah, I'm not processing this just yet. Don't be surprised if I start screaming and having a meltdown in twenty minutes."

"Don't." He shook his head. "You'll need to switch your laundry, first." HIs matter-of-fact tone only prompted one reaction. Laughter. Laughter, plain and simple. What else was there for you to do? Your favorite love interest has come to life and is chiding you on switching over your laundry. Everything about this was so impossible and bizarre all you could do was laugh. The floodgates opened, and you had to put your phone down to throw your arm over your mouth. Xavier is self aware. Xavier is self aware. Xavier is self aware.

The jealous, manipulative, gaslighting, adorable, sweet, kind Xavier is self aware.

"What the fuck?" You laugh, gasping for air. Tears were pouring down your cheeks. You couldn't see the future but you could guess there was no perfect ending to this fairytale. You wheeze, wiping the tears from your eyes. Your phone was perched on a table near your chair, and Xavier was visibly bewildered. 

"Are you alright? Take a deep breath. Breathe." He instructed, reaching a hand out like he could ground you. But as his hand approached the invisible wall he paused. Before dropping it. But you heeded his advice. Taking one deep breath between fits of incredulous giggles. One in. Hold. Out. You repeat this process, trying to stifle any more laughter until you've cleared your head and can breathe again. In and out. Slow. Pacing yourself. You could hear Xavier doing the same, modeling the breathing pattern for you. It works. With time, your breathing evens and your fits of laughter settle into the occasional chuckle at your own incredulity. Xavier was watching on in concern. Appraising. As soon as you settled he slowly nodded, as if assuring himself you were okay, before speaking again. "All I said was you'd need to switch your laundry from the washer to the dryer soon. What was so funny?"

You chuckle again. "Bud." His eyebrows furrowed. "That means you were snooping. That's why I was laughing." You perch your hand on your palm. "I'm not gonna have a moment of privacy ever again, am I?" He blinked, eyebrows still furrowed. He really was hard to read at times. That was by design, of course. The perfect prince charming, handsome and soft, hiding a killer's edge. Besides, he survived over a century faking his identity and faking his death. He had to be a good actor. 

Lucky you, you knew some of his tricks already. 

"I wasn't snooping." He protested, glancing away with that subtle scowl. "I just pay attention."  

"Right." You laugh. "Listen, let's make a couple things clear, okay? I don't know what… this is gonna turn into, but I'm gonna need you to be upfront with me." You gesture between him and yourself. "I'm not making any assumptions. I'm not gonna jump to any conclusions. I don't have any expectations. But don't try me. I've got enough shit on my plate as is, I can't afford to be even more distracted. I have a degree to complete, I have two jobs I'm working. This game is a fun escape, a way to wind down. It's comfort." He dropped the scowl as you continued speaking. Allowing you to finish your thoughts. He took it all in, before lighting up. 

"What's your degree in?" He cocked his head again. Why does he have to be so cute?

"Astronomy."

Those little lights appeared again.

He blinked a few times. Bunny brain buffering. 

"Astronomy?" He echoed.

You nod. "Astronomy. I know it's not a lucrative job right now, but… it's my passion. It's home. It's… why I was drawn to you." The little lights grew brighter. Your fingers slide into your hair, playing with it. 

"I have a degree in astronomy, too." He turned, approaching the overstuffed chair. He crouched down, pulling out a bag that had been hidden behind it. Just something simple. A brown cross body bag stuffed with books. He pulled one out, showing it to you. A thick book on astronomy. Typically the words on items in the game weren't fully visible, but there were a few notable exceptions. You stand up, going to your desk to dig around and find your own astronomy textbook. You hold it up to your phone, allowing him to look at it in kind. Xavier wasn't one to grin from ear to ear, but he was smiling wide nonetheless. The kind of smile he wore in that one standard five star of his, when he was goofing around with MC and some pocky. 

"I use your study function all the time when I'm working on homework." You admit, setting the thick textbook down with a thunk. 

"Next time, why don't you actually let me help you?" He propped his book on his hip, his free hand outstretched as if you could actually take it. "I don't plan to be a distraction."

"You've already made me late to work once." You shoot back.

"… I'm never gonna live that down." He set the book down on the table, rubbing the back of his neck. It was so interesting to watch him move about freely. Some of his movements mimicked his default animations, but he moved more smoothly. It was more reminiscent of his animated five stars. He had the freedom of mobility. Now, admittedly, it does make you curious. 

"Well, first off, no you aren't." You tease. "But… who else knows? I mean. Who else is aware of…" You gesture wildly. "Multiple dimensions? Your own self awareness? I don't know what to label this."

"No one else, as far as I'm aware. I've done my research." Xavier returned to the veil between worlds. That one wall dividing the two of you. "Jeremiah, Captain Jenna… I believe I am the only one." You hum. 

"And the others?" 

He cocked his head. "What others?"

"The other love interests. Rafayel Qi, Zayne Li, Sylus Qin, Caleb Xia…" You drift off. His eyes flash. But only for a split second. He shrugged.

"Wouldn't know. I don't come into contact with them." His answer was gentle, but brushed them off. You had a feeling you knew where this was going. 

"Gotcha." You stop it before it can start. "Just trying to see how far this goes, if we need to keep anyone else in the loop. I mean… can you imagine this information falling into EVER's lap?" He paused. Everything about him momentarily stilled. 

"I can." His lips pressed into a thin line. "Let's ensure it never does." You nod curtly. All jokes and hysteria aside, if this really was happening to you, you couldn't imagine the world shattering consequences of EVER getting involved. A mega corporation committing atrocities in the name of eternal life would absolutely do otherworldly damage to try and find the science between multiple dimensions. You shudder. 

"In the meantime," You stand up, brushing yourself off. You know you were due for a freak out at some point, but you might as well do your laundry while you waited for it to happen. "I do have things I need to do today. And I was hoping to keep grinding for gems in the meantime. I really want that new myth of yours…"

"I might need you to explain some things from your end." Xavier nodded. "I'm… still a little unsure of some of these terms. Myths? Are people making up more stories about me?" You open your mouth, an immediate yes on the tip of your tongue, but you elect not to tell him about fanfiction about him just yet. 

"I'll tell you everything I can. I'm not crystal clear on everything, either. But I'll tell you what I understand." You grab your keys, slipping on your shoes as you walk to the door.

"That's all I ask." He smiled. With that, you nod, and turn off your phone.

Xavier watched as this plane of existence vanished before his eyes. One moment, you sat before him. In your oversized comfies, the plane positioned as if you were having a face call with someone. But there wasn't a phone, not on his end. It was as if some portal manifested, then vanished. He had never really thought of it before. But the way the busy cafe would suddenly empty, the new voice. The voice he would hear during orbits and trials… It was a slow realization. And now, he finally could see you clearly. Speak to you clearly. He slowly settled into the oversized chair again. The world around him, as if someone hit 'play' after pausing, sprung back to life. The espresso machines whirred in the back, people entered the cafe, employees returned from the back. The world, once hushed, burst with life once more.

He pulled his bag back around. His astronomy book nestled amongst many others. Books on interdimensional planes of existence, physics, space travel. He had been on this planet long enough to see man's first steps on the moon. The chronorift catastrophe. But he had never in his centuries of living experienced that.

It was new. Refreshing, almost.

He settled the bag on his shoulder, leaving the familiar cafe without so much as a word. 

Jeremiah. If anyone would be able and willing to help him put this puzzle together, it would be his old friend. 

It wasn't often for Xavier to have a 'first'. He had lived so long he often wondered if he'd run out of 'firsts' to have. His first step, smile, and giggle as a child. His first word as a toddler. His first love? His beloved starlight. First loss? His beloved starlight. His first training partner? Her. His first heartbreak? Her. 

It was all her, wasn't it? 

His life orbited around hers. She was his star, his sun, and he? The moon, or some forlorn, rocky planet. Always orbiting. Always present. Always constant. But he could never get too close, for fear of destruction. Or perhaps, in a twisted scheme of fate, she would burn up and burn out first. If that was so, he would be destroyed along with her. It seemed to be their fate. Always orbiting. But never close enough.

Xavier's footfalls were remarkably quiet. He knew how to move quietly. Make no sound, leave no trace. It's how he survived this long without being found. Modern technology made it harder at times. But he was lucky to still have comrades left who kept up with the times. They were dropping like flies. What once began as a sizable expedition dwindled over the century. People settled down. People left. People died. And people betrayed.

His fleeting image came and went like a ghost in the reflective surfaces of glass paned windows. Much like his life on this planet. Here one moment, gone the next, without so much as a whisper or a footstep left behind. He paused only in front of the bus stop. Awaiting the next one that would bring him to Philo.

He dreamt of her. Often. More often than he'd admit. He dreamt of the Queen he left behind. He dreamt of the partner by his side. He dreamt of the girl who died on his shoulder that fateful night under the stars. In all his years on this planet, he had never once thought about how those dreams never showed her face. Not until recently. Not until he finally saw your face.

It was something out of a movie. He first saw it in the Destiny's Cafe one night. It was late. He was simply reading a book. He had felt drawn to that place more times than he could count, but his memories of those moments were always fuzzy. He knew he met her there. He always did. But why would he meet her there in the middle of the workday for a few seconds? Why would he be there, and then suddenly no longer feel her presence? And why hadn't he questioned it before?

The bus rolled up. He got on, paying the fare before he went to a back seat. He settled into it, setting his bag beside him as a silent blockade. No one else was on the bus at the moment, but it was still worthwhile to do it. 

That day. That day would be burned into his memory. He was reading his book, when he heard the ding of the door opening. He set the book down, greeting her as he always did. 

But he saw you.

For the first time, he saw this person. For the first time, he knew what his Queen once looked like. Or something similar. You looked remarkably like her. And yet, he could tell, it wasn't the same. This wasn't the case of some past or future timeline. No, you were someone else entirely.

You looked tired. But you were smiling. You turned the screen, some two way visual portal, towards a computer screen.

"I passed!" You had grinned. He stood up and approached the screen. There were tapping noises, before he felt the urge to ask about your day. This incessant tugging that made his mouth move before his brain did. Xavier, the one always three steps ahead. Xavier, the one who'd lived multiple different lives… was speaking without thinking. Acting without thought.

You rambled on about some class. You were still dressed from work, some cat fur clinging to your shirt. But in spite of the eye bags you were glowing. It was you. It had always been you.

But who are you?

Xavier looked out the window. That fateful day will forever be burned into his mind. It was you. You were his Queen, his classmate, his partner… and yet she wasn't you at all. You were her, yet she wasn't you? Xavier considered himself intelligent. He attended multiple universities to take up time on his planet. Multiple degrees and certificates buried away in shoe boxes and random discount picture frames. But for all his wits, he could not for the life of him understand what was happening.

So he went to the library. To the old bookstore. He went to physicists' lectures and gathered every piece of intel about the Deepspace Tunnel he could. Even if he had to break protocol at work to do it. It's fluctuations had been more extreme than usual. Odd, too. The readings were showing up in a bizarre way, something no one had ever seen before. It was so jarring. EVER couldn't figure it out. The Hunter's Association couldn't figure it out. His few remaining compatriots couldn't figure it out. But his Hunter's watch had started showing signs of metaflux in the cafe. No one else noticed it. It never manifested any Wanderers. But it would show the tiniest disturbance just before and just after you appeared.

The bus finally rolled up to the street corner. He was still the only one on board. He grabbed his bag, walking towards the front. He offered a soft 'thank you' to the bus driver, but said nothing else.

Astronomy. You study astronomy. The stars held so many secrets, secrets he wished he could share with someone.

His footfalls fell a little louder now. Not enough to announce his presence. Just enough to echo that he was once here. No footprints would remain. Even the echo would fade.

But maybe he finally has someone he can be remembered by. Someone he can share the secrets of the stars with.

 Laundry folded and put away, dishes done, room cleaned. Apartment vacuumed, mopped, dusted. There was no doubt in your mind it was cleaner than the day you moved in. 

You did everything in your power to keep your brain and hands busy. Anything to avoid the impending crash out. It was real. It was real. He talked to you. He saw you. He saw you in the random comfy sweatshirt you threw on. He saw you exhausted. Now, the appeal of this game is that these men would and do love you for who you are. No matter the timeline, place, or what you look like. But that's easier said than understood, much less taken to heart. Besides. A fictional character spoke to you. You knew your crash out would be valid.

You pinched yourself on and off throughout the day. Wondering if you'd slept through your alarm in your exhaustion and simply dreamt the whole ordeal anyway. But no, the sharp pain reminded you that this was reality. You didn't even bother to claim the mid day stamina. You weren't sure you were ready to face him just yet.

But as the day came to an end, your homework was staring at you. And you always, always used Xavier's study function while working on astronomy. You press your lips together. The tradition wouldn't end now. No, not today. So you sigh. You open the game on your phone, putting water in the kettle to make tea. That same song you knew by heart began to play, so you sang along. Grabbing a mug and your favorite tea blend for focus. Caleb's face flashed by, then Sylus's. But by then the enter game option had loaded, so you tap it. 

You lean on the counter as the game loaded in. As soon as it did, Xavier greeted you in the Destiny's Cafe. There was a stack of books on the table, and he was sitting with a steaming cup of tea as well. He was in the middle of reading when his eyes darted up.

"Ah. There you are." He smiled. His smaller, more content smile. "I was wondering when you'd come back."

"Took the time to clean today." You explain your absence, half expecting no response. But he proved you wrong chuckling that soft little 'ufufu' laugh of his.

"You could have told me. I would have kept you company." 

There it was. More confirmation that this morning was not at all a dream. Not a figment of your imagination. You just shake your head. You watched, the steam lifting from his cup of tea dancing in the air. It was so realistic. So lifelike. The graphics in this game were top notch, but this was something else. This was life like.

"Nah, needed to clear my head." You shrug a single shoulder. He nodded.

"Ah. Just as well, then." He didn't press. You really should've known he wouldn't. The kettle began to whistle, so you leave your phone as you grabbed the handle. You pour the water over the prepared tea leaves, allowing it to sit for a few minutes. You carry your mug and phone back into your room, shutting the door with your foot as you approach your desk. You'd already set up your workstation. Computer open, journal and pen, calculator, textbook, and a prop for your phone. You settle into your seat, setting your tea down a safe distance away to ensure there wouldn't be any messes or accidents. And now, Xavier sat across from you. Joining you in your study session.

You finally take a closer look at his stack of books. Books on astronomy, physics, the deepspace tunnel, space exploration, theoretical explorations on the concept of multiple dimensions… He even had a workspace mirroring yours. Books, journal, pencil, tea. He looked up at you, grabbing his pencil.

"I figured we could study together tonight." He offered. "And maybe I could help if you run into a problem…?" Your lips curl up into a smile.

"I've used you as a duck before. Just to talk out loud and process a problem." You grab your own pen. "So yeah. I'd love that." 

"Good." He nodded, and the study timer appeared on your phone automatically. Your eyebrows furrow. 

"Did you do that?"

"Did I do what?" He tilted his head with that innocent look on his face.

"No, don't do that." You quickly caution him. "Don't start. Do you… have more control over the game now?" He blinked a couple of times, but your hardened gaze successfully got his attention.

"Somewhat." He shrugged. "You want to study, I want to study… but we don't need a time limit." The timer went away. You shake your head at him.

"That's enough mindfuckery for the day. Let's just focus on this." You gesture between your textbook and his books. He didn't seem to mind, just nodding again in agreement.

"Sure." 

You navigate the interface yourself, selecting the study function. You pick the longest time available, 30 minutes. And with that the view changed. The lighting shifted, and the camera focused on Xavier. He picked one of his books, beginning to read it while jotting down notes. The music that usually played was much quieter. And the low mumbling was gone.

He remembered.

You don't bother commenting on it. It was Xavier, of course he'd remember. 

But you do the same as him. You open your textbook and start reading. It was just a refresher for you, really. You had some math homework to deal with and needed to remind yourself on some background knowledge. Not a big deal, in all honesty. Nothing you haven't done before. You read and take your notes between sips of tea, blowing on the top as you skim over the passages.

An astronomy major working at a cat cafe and a remote administrative job. It was an odd mix of experience, but it got you by. 

You move on to some of your math homework. You navigate through the college's class portal until you arrived at the assignment. You begin, writing out your problems on paper as you began to work through them. Piece by piece, one at a time. This homework wasn't even due for a while but you figured it would be best to knock it out while you could think straight. Your roommate was out. Your noisy neighbors too hungover from the night before to make trouble just yet. You had the next day off, and the day after that, too. Laundry done, apartment clean.

For once, your mind should be crystal clear. But the occasional hum or the scratch of pencil on paper reminded you why your mind was fuller than ever before. 

You scratch out the last half of the work you just did. No, you got something wrong. You rework the problem up to that point, but you still got the same answer. Your lips press together in a thin line. You rewrite the whole thing, to no avail.

You know this one, and you know you know it. So why couldn't your brain connect the two pieces? 

Xavier quietly cleared his throat, making you look up at him. He had been watching you.

"You look stuck." He observed, voice soft. "Want to talk through it?"

"Sure, I guess." You throw yourself back in your seat, rubbing the bottom half of your face. '"I just reread the section on how to work through this problem, but I'm getting stuck halfway through. My calculations aren't right. But I know that I know how to do this. So what am I doing wrong?"

"May I see?" He flipped to a blank piece of paper. You shrug.

"Why not? Can't hurt. Won't it be inverted, though?" You pick up your notebook and show it to the screen. He could see the original equation and jotted it down, looking between it and your notebook. 

"No, I can see it." He muttered. His eyes darted back and forth, scribbling notes and working through the equation. He worked quickly, his pencil flying before pausing. Like he was doing the math in his head. After a few seconds he hummed. "Ah. I see. You mixed something up here," He turned his notebook around to show you. Where you had been messing up he used a different method. He pointed at it with his eraser, calmly walking you through the steps to get to the answer. You follow, writing down what he said.

And he was right. Of course, he was right.

You input the answer with the new method, and the webpage showed a short animation of a check mark to show you were correct.

Studying with Xavier had even more perks, all of a sudden.

He no longer needed to just sit there as you ranted and tried to walk through the answers yourself. No, you could work through them and have him partner with you. Help you check your work. He certainly had different methods at times, but you got to the desired answer. You knew he was smart, that was a part of the reason you were so attracted to his character. But there was something that set your soul alight knowing the two of you had something in common. Something you shared. A love of the stars.

The tea cups in both worlds were slowly drained of their contents. Books in both planes set aside. Until there came a point when the line between their existences looked less like a phone's screen and more like a mirror. 

You finish the final problem, hitting submit. You push back, a heavy, elongated, satisfied sigh escaping as you stretch your arms over your head. Sometimes those assignments made your head spin. But for once, the exhaustion held a sense of satisfaction. And beyond that, camaraderie. Xavier didn't look as nearly as tired as you felt. But as he closed his book, a bookmark rest snugly between pages in that theory about alternate dimensions, you could feel a shared satisfaction at the end of a long day. He watched you. Closely. He leaned forward, perching his elbow on the table, while leaning his head in his hand. His gaze heavy. Intentional.

"You look tired." He murmured. Barely audible over quiet music that had begun to play towards the end. "Ready to go to bed?"

"Not yet." You hum, but a yawn interrupts you. You just had to do your winding down tasks. Brush your teeth, wash your face. Put on pajamas and curl up in bed. "And I wanted to pass a few more orbits with you before I went to bed…"

"The orbits will be there in the morning. There will always be more wanderers to kill." He moved, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from you as he began to pack away his things. "Go to bed with me. Then we can fight together come morning. Sound fair, partner?" The slight playful lilt in his voice was undeniable. A tease and a taunt all wrapped up into one. A playful side of him you adored. 

"Sounds fair, Xavier." You stand up, stretching your arm above your head. Barely missing a sudden, soft pink on the tips of his ears. "I'm gonna get ready for bed. Be right back." You leave your phone on, grabbing your empty mug. You go and wash it in the sink, before going to handle other things. You brush your teeth and wash your face. Prepare your hair accordingly. Your routine didn't take too long, and soon you were turning off the lights in the room as you returned to your bedroom. You exchange your lamp for your fairy lights, illuminating the room in soft, warm light. Giving you just enough to see. In the background, you notice your phone flash. You pull your top on, looking over your shoulder. Xavier was setting his bag down on the floor. The 'camera' pointed towards his bed. You could see and hear him in the background. 

The sleep function allowed you to see him in bed. But whatever was going on was allowing you a brief peek into his room as well. He took off his shoes, organized his books on a bedside table. He exchanged his outdoor clothes for indoor clothes, settling into something more comfortable to sleep. This sneak peek into his casual, domestic life outside of the story made your heart flutter.

In spite of it all, at the end of the day, he was a person just like you.  Crown prince, Backtracker, time traveler, monster hunter, black market operative… And yet, here he was. Lying down in bed. His eyes locked on yours, a soft, sleepy smile on his face. Lumiere, High Highness, King of Darknight… But the man before you was Xavier. Just Xavier.

You go and settle in bed. There was no music. No option for it, either. No timer. Just him. He lifted his hand, reaching out to the screen as if he could brush some hair out of your face. But his hand stopped just short. You set your head down, plugging your phone in as his own hand dropped down onto the pillow.

"I'll see you in the morning, starlight." He whispered. His eyes still locked on you. You hum sleepily in acknowledgement, snuggling into your bed. Only then did soft music begin to play. But it wasn't the music from the game.You crack an eye open and notice a cd player on a table behind Xavier. A single, soft light showed it was on. You can't even manage to thank him. All you can do is shut your eyes again. A part of you still believes this is a dream. A sweet dream, but a dream nonetheless.

But as you drift off to sleep, a pair of blue eyes your constant companion, a soft voice remains proof this was all too real.

Thomas had called you, in a sheer panic, as he always did when he needed help wrangling Rafayel. He knew you were the only one in this world that could level with Rafayel. And he’d never told you this before, but you were also the only one who could bend Rafayel’s unbreakable stubbornness; a perfect match for the purple-haired obstinate artist. And thus, Thomas had personally designated you as Rafayel’s keeper.  

And so, you found yourself at Rafayel’s massive house, in the most extravagant evening dress you owned, hauling him off to his own damn party. 

His annoyingly alluring voice cuts into the silence of the studio, "You can turn around now and give me a hand with something else.” You snap around to be met with the sight of Rafayel, irritatingly and devilishly handsome in his expensive white dress shirt and designer cardigan, leaning lazily against the sofa with the tie you’d previously used to tie his hands with, woven in between his fingers. He grins and holds it up to you expectantly, "Put this on for me.”

"Don’t you have hands?” You snap, but your feet have a mind of their own, and you’re already approaching him on the sofa.  

"My hands are numb from being tied up by you for so long.” You roll your eyes, knowing he’s being dramatic. While he waits deceptively patiently for you to give in, he leisurely takes a wristwatch out of his pocket to put on, as if he’s got all the time in the world. "Clock’s ticking, keep it up and we’ll be late at this rate.”

You gape at him. The sheer audacity of this man, as if you’re the reason he’d be late. He only smirks at you, and it just infuriates you all the more. How he could so easily annoy the hell out of you and look so beautiful doing it. But you keep your mouth shut, and exasperatedly lean down to put on his tie for him, doing your best not to strangle him with it. It feels strangely intimate, and the brief reprieve finally gives you an opportunity to speak to him. 

"Thomas said you have to be present for all parts of the event. There will be reporters at the entrance taking photos, and…” you rattle off, before you realize Rafayel is being uncharacteristically silent, "Are you even listening?” 

You look up from the tie in your fingers to glance at Rafayel’s face. He doesn’t look the least bit interested in your words, instead his eyes are fixated on your wrist. You tap his chest to get his attention but he remains still, eyes still on your hands atop his collarbones. You curiously wave your hand in front of his face, hoping to snap him out of his trance. Fortunately you do, but unfortunately Rafayel grabs your wrist suddenly and urgently. 

“...what’s the matter?” The bewilderment is unmistakable in your voice. You’re used to Rafayel’s erratic and quirky behavior, but this was alarming, even to you.

Finally his gaze breaks away from your wrist and he speaks, "I heard you talking about the event…” but just as quickly as you’d diverted his attention, it's back on your wrist. His voice is unusually clouded, deeper than usual. His eyes are back on your wrist that’s enclosed in his fingers, as a strange expression crosses his face. It almost feels as if he’s trying to hold himself back, but you’re unsure from what. 

"Your hand…” he trails off, inexplicable emotions caught in his hoarse voice. He suddenly tugs you towards him by your wrist, and you stumble forward.  

"Rafayel?! Wait!” As you fall forward, your feet run out of space and hit the bottom of the sofa, causing you to tumble on top of him. He catches you easily, sitting you on top of his lap while he brings your captured wrist right up to the side of his face. The awkward position forces you to settle your legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him against the designer couch. The half knotted tie comes undone and you’re left clutching the smooth material in your hands. If it weren’t for the compromising position you found you and Rafayel in, you'd be slightly disappointed at seeing your hard work unraveled.  

The grip on your wrist tightens impossibly, almost possessively, "Hold still.” His command is not totally unusual; Rafayel is always demanding things of you, his precious bodyguard. But his voice comes out in a strange and sensual husk, leaving you confused, nervous, and weirdly burning. His silky smooth dress pants shuffle under you, and you’re reminded of the expensive clothes you’re pressed up against, likely worth more than a month of your hunter salary.  

"Your suit! It’ll get wrinkled.” 

"I don’t care…let me smell this…” he trails off, his voice sounding impossibly far away. You can feel the tickle of his inhale against your wrist and it makes you shiver, goosebumps forming under his touch. 

"What is that?” He asks, mostly to himself, lost in his own little world, "It smells good. And smells familiar…” 

It wasn’t at all uncommon for Rafayel to be mysterious and even enigmatic, but this was a whole other level of confusion for you, "What…what’s wrong? Did something happen?”  

His behavior is starting to worry you. He’s unusually breathless, and you can see a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. The last thing you needed was him getting sick! You could already hear his needy whines in your head at the mere thought. Demanding to be taken care of and waited on. You almost want to smile at the thought of it; you act constantly annoyed with Rafayel but deep down you know you can’t live without his antics. 

 "No, I'm fine. Very well, in fact,” but despite his words, Rafayel sounds anything but. His voice, normally a bright and charming, albeit annoying, timbre, is now a hoarse and needy rasp. His ticklish touch on the inside of your wrist reminds you of where you got the perfume that he was so intoxicated by. 

"Come to think of it...I tried an unreleased fragrance in the back office of the exhibition hall. It was made with special ingredients,” you scratch your chin with your free hand, trying your best to recall the name of it.  

"Perfume? You spritzed the perfume sample on your wrist?” 

You glance at him, concern and confusion written all over your face. Isn’t that what you do with perfumes? Rafayel shifts his gaze to your eyes, but his breath remains on the inside of your wrist. It’s deafeningly silent and you realize the scent of the perfume gradually grows stronger as your body temperature rises at the proximity of your body to Rafayel’s. You’re suddenly reminded of the fact that you’re sitting on his lap, and his face is so very close to your own.  

He’s still lost in his own thoughts as he murmurs, more to himself than you, "It’s a bit bitter like fermented plants…but very fragrant.” 

"It could be a mixture of artificial chemical stuff. Now, unhand me please,” you’re desperate to detach yourself from him, unsure if you can trust your body when it’s pressed so readily upon Rafayel’s own hard and sturdy stature. 

"No.”  

Your jaw drops at his audacity. But before you can berate him, he’s reaching his free hand to undo the buttons of his collar, as if the clothing is restricting him and making it hard to breath. His purple eyes are glazed over, and a beautiful faint blush paints his cheeks. His exposed collar and chest have you biting back your words, completely losing your train of thought. You squirm at the sight, but Rafayel’s hand on your thighs grip you in place, not letting you move a single inch. 

"I could’ve sworn I've smelled this fragrance before,” he presses your hand against his cheek as he continues to slowly inhale the scent by the mouthful. It wouldn’t be completely out of the question, the unreleased scent had been developed for his artworks for the collaboration, so it’s very likely he could’ve sampled it during production. 

"We can worry about it later. Let’s go. Everyone is waiting” you urge, feeling yourself blush as he shifts slightly under you, brushing against your sensitive inner thighs. You pull your hand away from his cheek, only for Rafayel to yank it back, like a child unwilling to share his favorite toy.

"Let me smell it again,” his demand is meant to be gentle, but comes out rough and urgent. You sigh, letting him melt into your hand again. It’s almost endearing; you quite like being so intimate with Rafayel. 

"You know, for someone who hates cats, you sure are acting like one,” you tease, "A kitty that found some catnip to be exact. 

The mere mention of cats is usually enough to set Rafayel off, pouting like a little baby that’s been teased. But instead, he just distractedly responds, "So then are you a cat? I am not a cat. And also, you’re not allowed to say that. I just couldn’t resist…” 

You roll your eyes but can’t help but grin at his adorableness, tempted to just give in to his touch, savoring every moment you possibly can before the bubble bursts.

 "What is this weird perfume…” he’s talking to himself again, inspecting your hand carefully. His jumbled thoughts have you worried for him again. Although Rafayel did often have energy that bordered on adhd, this was much more intense than that. 

"Are you alright?” You repeat, softly. He doesn’t respond, but leans his cheek into your touch, his lips turning so they’re practically kissing your palm. Like this, he inhales the scent with his parted lips. His adam's apple bobs as he gulps, almost feverishly. His hand reaches to further loosen his collared shirt, pulling it open to let the cool air soothe his burning skin.  

"It must be an allergic reaction. This isn’t perfume. How dare they use such underhanded methods to trap me…” his words both confuse and scare you. You’re growing increasingly worried about his flushed and sweaty complexion, his collarbones shining under the faint glow of the city lights through the massive windows. His words fill you with a terror you do not understand.

Rafayel holds the area between the bridge of his nose and his forehead, like his head is pounding, before returning to grip the collar of his dress shirt. His hand that holds yours is shaky as he rocks slowly underneath you, inhaling as much of the perfume as he can. His lap brushes against yours and your brain short circuits at the feeling of him pressed against you. 

"H-huh?” Is the only thing you’re capable of getting out.

"Who gave you the perfume? Who sent it?” His questions are increasingly alarming you, but you do your best to keep calm. You can tell he’s nervous as well, and the sight makes your chest squeeze. Wanting to comfort him, you cup his cheek in your palm and he leans into the touch so contentedly and groaning in satisfaction. Truly like a cat.

You blushed despite yourself. It was so difficult to not be aroused in this compromising position. You’d long since had a crush on Rafayel, always craving his silly antics and theatrics. Missing him intensely when he’d disappear for days at a time. 

"No one. Um, why do you look like you’re drunk?” You try to deflect from the burning between your thighs, hoping he can’t notice how hot and bothered you’ve become. 

"I’m not drunk. I just don’t like the scent,” he pouts, but nuzzles your hand against his cheek like a cat getting cheek scratches. He turns his lips back into your palm, opening his mouth until you can feel his teeth graze your skin. He groans as he continues to inhale the scent, making you bite back a moan of your own at his gentle nibbles. 

"Rafayel…you…” but you find yourself at a loss for words as he continues to breathe in your scent like it's the oxygen he needs to survive. Your own breaths start to come out in shallow pants, and you squirm in his lap. Rafayel moans softly into your palm, biting down gently to get you to stop. 

"Are you trying to run away again?” He asks, almost painfully, his eyes piercing into yours, so intense and searching. The glassy look in them reminds you of how much you’re worried about his current well being.

"Rafayel, you don’t look so good. Shouldnt you go to the doctor?” You use the hand Rafayel isn’t gripping to take his face between your free fingers and inspect his beautiful and flushed features.  

Rafayel’s breath hitches at your touch, goose flesh littering the skin where your touch singes, "I’m not going anywhere.” And though he doesn’t say it, you can feel what’s left unsaid.

And neither are you.

But he continues, dazed, "You’re gonna lock me up again…you’re with them. I just know it. Don’t think I'm unaware of what you’re about to do.” He has both your wrists in his hands now, gripping them on either side of his neck. "Y/n, I won’t fall for it again. Not this time.”

Though his words scare the shit out of you, you’re unable to concentrate on anything but his eyes that are trained on your neck, where your pulse thrums erratically in anticipation. You’re suddenly hyper aware that your heart is beating so fast you can hardly hear him anymore, despite his face being mere inches from yours. Your breath is close enough to mingle with his. It seems he notices too, because he inhales deeply and throws his head back, gasping.

It's then you realize it's not just the scent of the perfume that's setting Rafayel off, but your own scent mingled with it. 

"Rafayel, snap out of it!” You beg. But Rafayel can’t seem to hear you as his cold hand grips the side of your neck, where you’d also dabbed the perfume along. Your breath catches in your throat at the icy touch, unsure of what to do. 

Rafayel senses your hesitation, "Don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything to you.” His voice is a throaty groan, and you’re honestly unsure if that’s even what you want. His body is almost on top of yours now, his breath deafening in your ear. And all you can think about is how you’d wish he’d press into you harder, until you’re suffocating, only able to breathe him in. 

But you go with your better judgment, pushing him gently, putting some distance between the two of you. He glances up from your neck, eyes unfocused, and says nothing. He finds himself staring at your lips that are parted slightly to let out the short pants of breath you’re wheezing out. He leans in slowly so he can breathe in as much of you as he possibly can, just nearly closing the proximity between your lips.  

Suddenly, your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your little bubble with Rafayel, "Its Thomas! He probably wants to remind us of the time. Let's head out!” You shove your phone until Rafayel’s hands, forcing him to take Thomas’s call for you.  

While he’s distracted, you slip out from beneath him and bolt to the nearest bathroom. As you move your legs, you’re made acutely aware of the slick that has formed in your panties. But you focus first on furiously washing off the scent from your wrists and neck. As you scrub, you glance up at the mirror in front of you. You swear at the site of yourself, unbelievably disheveled and undeniably aroused.  

As you continue to adamantly scrub, you can faintly make out Rafayel on the phone with Thomas, just outside. 

"No, we’re not going to make it. I need to take care of something urgent. Don’t call again please, bye.” When you turn off the faucet, you go to lean against the wall adjacent to the sink, trying to steady yourself and collect your thoughts. You turn around and gently rest your forehead against the wall, sighing into the cool surface against your burning skin, willing the arousal between your legs to go away. You try to remind yourself of poor Thomas all alone at the exhibition right now. Your guilt is short lived as you hear the patter of Rafayel’s feet approaching the bathroom. 

"Where are you going?” Rafayel’s words are right behind you, and his hand presses against the bathroom wall that your forehead rests on. You whip around and find yourself trapped between Rafayel’s hard body and the solid wall behind you. You back up instinctively, but find yourself hitting the cold surface before you even take a single step back. 

"Gotcha,” Rafayel smirks softly, and you tremble at his proximity to you. His other hand grips a towel bar to your left, while his other hand leans against the wall to your right, so you’re utterly trapped against him. He’s so close, close enough that you can feel his rapid breaths fanning across your parted lips. As Rafayel’s eyes roam all over you, from your lips to your heaving chest, you feel very much like a lamb caught in a lion’s den. Except you don’t want to escape. 

"Rafayel…” you murmur using both your hands to gently push against his chest, unintentionally brushing against the exposed skin below his collar, under his unbuttoned dress shirt. You’re hoping he’ll have mercy and release you, afraid that the palpable sexual tension in the air would cloud your, and Rafayel’s, judgment.  

He shivers as your wet hands brush against his chest, knuckles turning white as they grip the towel bar next to you. His breath comes out in shallow pants, chest heaving up and down, with a light sheen of sweat painting his pale skin. The sight snaps you out of the moment, reminding you that Rafayel seems like he might have a fever. 

"Let’s go to the hospital...I’m worried about you,” your hands shift to grip his open shirt, bringing the fabric together to cover him up. Rafayel’s hand releases the towel bar to take both of your hands into his, trapping them against his chest.  

"What will it take for you to believe that I'm okay? I’m exactly where I want to be,” his gruff voice invades all your senses while his eyes burn holes through your own. He presses himself further into you, until his forearm is resting against the wall above you, only your joined hands pressed against his chest separating the two of you. He leans down, his face now impossibly close to yours, and for a second you find yourself lost in his purple and blue cosmic eyes.  

You take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself to reality, and remind yourself that Rafayel’s actions are only fueled by the strange effects the perfume has on him. He’s not in his right mind, and you need to think for him.  

You whisper, craning your neck up to look into his eyes, "You’re not yourself right now. Let me help you, I can take you to the doctor.”  

Rafayel leans down, resting his chin in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in, the smell of the perfume, still potent despite the scrubbing, mixed with your pheromones invading his very being. Slowly, almost like it pains him to do so, he lifts his head away from you. He releases your hands and uses that same hand that gripped them to lift your chin towards him. 

"Do you know the only thing you could do that would help me?” His hooded eyes lock yours in. His voice is the soft purr you know and love, slightly tinged with a rough and carnal desire that shakes you to your core. 

"Name it. I’ll do it for you.“ part of you knows that Rafayel isn’t going to ask you for anything regarding his health but you can’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth. You’re stepping into very dangerous territory and you can’t hold yourself back. 

"Kiss me,” his voice is low, but the assertive demand in it is undeniable. His command makes you shift in between his legs against the wall, becoming hyper aware of how deeply your bodies pressed into each other. You know you want to, you’ve wanted to for some time now. But you can’t shake the idea that the strange effects of the perfume are clouding Rafayel’s judgment and inhibitions. 

"R-Rafayel…” you stutter hesitantly. Trembling ever so slightly, you lean in to peck his flushed cheek. You watch, slightly amused, as Rafayel’s ears get even pinker.

"Why must you always make me beg?” He whines. His lips stick out in a signature Rafayel pout, one you’ve grown to absolutely adore, no matter how annoying it can be.  

You can’t help but laugh breathlessly, your chin still in his grip, "I don’t make you. You just love to beg.“ 

With your face still in his grip, he sighs dramatically, "Then I won’t beg anymore.” He brings his face to yours and captures your lips with his. He swallows your surprised squeak, which is quickly replaced by a throaty moan of longing and anticipation. Rafayel absolutely devours your noises, his lips so commanding against your own, bending them to his every will. They’re so soft, and you can’t help but think they fit so perfectly slotted against your own.  

Though you can taste the urgency on him, Rafayel takes his time with you, engraving the taste and feel of you in his mind forever. He takes it so tortuously and deliciously slow that you find yourself nibbling on his bottom lip, begging him to take you fully.  

You can just feel his maddening smirk against your lips. Instead of indulging you, Rafayel laces his practiced fingers under your dress’s skirt and onto your thighs. Only when you yelp in surprise does he finally slip his tongue into your mouth, always intentionally doing things to take you by surprise.  

The new sensation of your tongues on each other seems to have Rafayel equally feral, because you feel the unmistakable press of his erection into your stomach. Needing to do something with your hands, you trace the outlines of his chest muscles, enjoying the feel of them finally against your fingers. 

Rafayel’s hands venture to your back, expertly undoing the zipper of your dress, and then your bra. Gasping into his open mouth as his fingers return to the pebbling skin of your nipples. He gives a harsh flick to each, and your knees buckle against the sensitivity. You sink down against the wall, lips still attached to his for dear life, but Rafayel shifts so that he catches you with his knee instead. The mid length black dress your wore rides up and serves as a sheer layer of protection between your dampening panties and his knee. The friction of his leg against your crotch is unbearable, forcing you to throw your head back in pleasure. 

Your reaction only serves to spur Rafayel further, as he begins to knead his knee into your cunt slowly. Your body turns to mush at the ecstasy of his knee against your most sensitive region, but Rafayel holds you steady with his hands gripping you from the swell of your underboobs.  

Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he inhales again. Unbeknownst to you, he practically comes undone at the smell of you alone, "You say I'm always whining but look at you.”  

You whimper at his teasing words right against your ear, clutching the back of his neck for support as he continues to hump his knee into you.  

Suddenly, Rafayel stops, letting his knee still against your increasingly damp cunt. You can’t help but whine as you look up into his amused eyes. There’s mischief in them as he grins, "I’m getting tired. You’re going to have to do the work.” 

Despite your lust clouded brain, you can still think coherently enough to see through his brattiness. You narrow your eyes at him, "You’re tired? Let me take you to the hospital. I knew you weren’t feeling well.” You duck down to escape his arms that cage you in, but he only lowers them so that they now trap you at the waist instead. 

"You’re so mean to me Y/N,” he huffs, "Can’t you tell how vulnerable I am right now?” 

"Because of the perfume? Why does it affect you so much?” You murmur, squeezing his cheeks slightly.  

From Rafayel’s expression you can tell he’s unwilling to share too much information. And as annoying as that was, you trusted him wholeheartedly and knew better than to prod him too much. You would take what you could get. 

He rests his head on your shoulder, unwilling to meet your stare. Dusting your hair behind your ear, he sniffs you again, practically consuming the scent. You shiver at the slight breeze he creates at your exposed neck, "I-It’s not just the perfume. I’ve dealt with this scent before, and I've developed a tolerance to it.” 

You hold his neck against your shoulder, and gently knead his damp skin, letting him inhale the smell like his life depended on it, "Then why?”

Rafayel sighs, releasing the wall behind you but instead trapping you by wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing your bodies together. You sigh in satisfaction as his erection presses warmly against you again, your pussy craving his touch

Finally he speaks, but his voice is low and almost feels dangerous, "The marine plant the perfume is extracted from…on its own no longer does anything to me. But when it’s exposed to another scent that I cannot control myself around…the reaction it causes can be extremely potent.” 

The sensations of his body pressed tightly against yours makes your brain practically non-functional, so you’re not following his train of thought, so you ask dumbly, "Like the air?”

You can practically hear Rafayel rolling his eyes in his voice, "I need air to survive but do you think I can’t control myself at all times of the day?”

"Okay well I'm confused! And to be fair you do act like an idiot at all times of the day so how am I supposed to know?!” He ignores you, taking another lungfull of the scent on your skin into his body. This time, he growls through an intense shiver, his grip on your body tightening against him. As if the very smell of your skin drove him into a lust filled craze. 

And that’s when you realize what he meant.

"O-oh,” is all you can squeak out. Strangely enough, the idea that your scent is what is driving Rafayel to madness makes you leak further into the puddle that had formed in your panties. 

Rafayel groans again, one his fists releasing your body to gently pound into the wall behind you, "I-I can smell the arousal in your scent. It’s driving me insane.” 

Knowing he can smell the dampness between your thighs is both utterly embarrassing and completely erotic. Your heart lurches, wanting nothing but to take his discomfort away and make him feel good, "H-how can I help you?” 

Reluctantly, he removes his chin off your shoulder and turns to face you, gripping your biceps in his hands, almost to the point of pain, "Do you mean that? Because you can’t take it back.”

Shivering at the implications of his words, you nod slowly but more sure than ever, "Yes. Let me help you. I want to help you” 

"I-If you want to help me…” Rafayel’s voice is doubtful, like he’s scared you will deny him before he’s even gotten the chance to put his request out. Between your thighs, you feel his knee creeping its way back against your leaking cunt. The shock to your recovering clit causes you to clutch Rafayel’s firm shoulders and throw your head back with a breathy moan. Rafayel feeds off your pleasure, imagining what you would sound like when you were actually stuffed to the brim with him. 

"I want...I need to see you cum all over me,” Rafayels throaty plea makes you blush profusely. You almost want to smack him across the head for his shameless words, but the pout on his face reminds you that he’s absolutely serious that this will help him. That seeing you come undone for him will help take the edge off of the effect the perfume is having on him. 

"O-okay.” You gulp, nodding. The relief on his face is mixed with unbridled excitement that makes you squirm in anticipation of what's to come. Your feet shift, which causes you to grind down on his knee once more. Unable to withstand the unintentional teasing any further, you languidly moan and grind your leaking cunt against him to relieve some of the pulsing tension in your gut. 

Your broken groans grace Rafayel’s ears and you can actually see his eyes light up with pleasure while his ears burn an even deeper red. His breath is shaky as he dips his head back down, inhaling deeply and dusting a kiss to the pulse point on your neck. You shiver as he gently uses his tongue against your neck to soothe his raging desire. 

His reaction intrigues you, and you can’t help but want to tease him further, just a little. Peering at him through your eyelashes, you tip toe upwards so you can fan your bated breath across his face, letting him bask in your scent. Your tongue reaches out to gently swipe across his bottom lip, all the while you continue to pleasure yourself using his thigh. 

Rafayel is unable to contain his excitement as he watches you use his body for your own gratification. He pants desperately into the crook of your neck, high off your pheromones invading all his senses. Through both your whiny moans, you reach out to graze his cock through his dress pants. 

Rafayel hisses at the slightest contact, and his reaction ignites your confidence, provoking you further. You grip him through the silky smooth trousers, holding his throbbing erection in your hand, using your thumb to tease where you think his slit would be.

"Fuck–hah, be gentle please baby. M’sensitive,” he whines through gritted teeth. Your cunt clenches at his words, so teasing yet so endearing from Rafayel’s lips. You can feel the coil in your gut tightening as you continue to hump into Rafayel’s knee, using his body to chase your own high. Your black dress has ridden up, and now the only barrier between Rafayel’s knee and your sopping pussy is your equally soaked panties. You bite your lip and pray that Rafayel doesn’t notice the moist streaks that are starting to appear on his expensive pants. 

Through your hooded eyes, you can see Rafayel is enjoying this just as much, if not more, than you are. His eyes are thick with lust, and you can practically see the pulse of his neck pound against his delicate skin. He desperately gasps for air, or maybe he’s trying to breathe more of you in, as you near your earth shattering climax. 

"Touch yourself for me,” you purr at him, purposely jutting your bottom lip out in a pout. He obliges obediently, one hand quickly undoing his belt and slipping in to grab his unbelievably hard cock into his hands. 

As you watch his face contort in pleasure, you’re filled with the need to grab him into your own hands. "Can I touch you too?” You ask innocently with wide eyes, imagining just how smooth he will feel in your bare hands. 

Rafayel whines, still obediently pumping his cock in his hands, "Yes please, I need you to touch me.” At his plea, you let your hands find their way to his hands, still diligently pumping up and down. You wrap your smaller hand over his and mimic his motions. You gasp at the sheer size of him, your fingers just barely able to wrap around his girth. You can feel his veins throbbing against your fingers, begging you to continue further. The sheer amount of pre cum that already coats his fingers, and now yours, makes you wonder how delicious his spend would feel inside you instead.

"You’re so dam beautiful when you – fuck – use me like this. Dreamed about this for s’long,” he bites out, his hands finding your nipples once more. His long artist fingers tease you expertly, taking the peaks and rolling them gently.

His skilled hands and filthy words accelerate the intensity of your body’s peak quickly approaching you. His entire body is flushed and burns under the pumps of your fist, likely exacerbated by the effects of your scent. You respond to his endless stream of gasps and swears with breathless mewls of your own, whispering sweet words into his ear. 

"Let me cum Rafayel, please. Want to cum for you s’bad,” you beg against him, despite him having given you all the power already, knowing the begging will drive him insane. 

Rafayel drives his knee further into you as your core grinds into him like second nature. Your wrists vigorously pump his leaking cock, the thick heat of it feeling absolutely unreal against your palm. With your free hand you thread your fingers through his long soft hair, gripping gently. With a strangled groan Rafayel sinks his teeth into your neck, sucking at your pulse point as if he’s trying to devour your scent. Reluctantly he pulls away, throwing his head back in pure pleasure once more. 

 "F-fuck you drive me fucking crazy Y/N,” he pants, his thick length throbbing at your vigorous pumps along his shaft, almost as if his heart was beating inside it. The endless precum that falls from the tip coats your fingers, making a wet mess in Rafayel’s pants and your palm.

 He groans in disappointment when you release his erection, but his eyes are trained on your every movement. Overcome with your aching need for the gorgeous purple haired man before you, you bring your soaked fingers to your lips and slowly insert your index and middle finger into your parted mouth. You make a show of letting your tongue lap up his essence from your digits, never letting your eyes break contact with his as you devour him off your fingers. You can’t help but let out a muffled moan at the taste of him, sweeter than you could have ever fathomed, so deliciously Rafayel.

He nearly hyperventilates as you peer at him through the tears of pleasure that had beaded onto your eyelashes. "Look at you, hah, like a fucking masterpiece,” his thumb caresses your lip as his breathless praises make you squirm against his knee. The pre cum on his thumb swipes onto your tongue, and you itch to taste him again. You shift yourself so that you can take his thumb into your mouth, using your tongue to swipe all the slick off his slender fingers. 

Rafayel shivers at your touch, his mind a mush of lust and adoration as he watches your eyes roll back at the taste of his cum on your lips.  

"You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmurs, drunk off your pheromones invading his senses. You only smile at him and tip toe up to press your lips against his, wanting him to be able to taste himself on your tongue. He groans into your mouth at the odd sensation of being able to taste both himself and you all at once. Both his hands come up to thread in your hair, pulling you as deeply into him as he possibly can. You can feel his exposed chest against your own, his heart pounding rapidly against the swell of your dress covered breasts. The proximity lets him control every twitch of his quads against your cunt and you cry into his mouth at the stimulation. 

As you continue to fuck yourself onto his knee, you find yourself on the cusp of your orgasm, nearly blinded by the ecstasy of his leg wedged between your thighs and the salty taste of his slick on your tongue, "Raf-Rafayel, m’gonna cum.” 

Despite his furious blush, he smirks at you, as devilishly handsome as ever, "You gonna cum on my knee baby?” 

If it weren’t for the cloud of pleasure fogging your every nerve you’d surely have a snarky retort to throw back at him, but the need to have him is so great you can’t think of a single thing. Without even needing to enter you, Rafayel has rendered you utterly fucked out.  

So instead, you nod eagerly as your grinding against his knee becomes increasingly sloppy and erratic. Rafayel, entranced by the utterly fucked bliss in your eyes can’t stop himself from falling deeper into the abyss that is you: your voice, your eyes, your smell, your soul. He finds himself realizing that, though he’s seen millions of dollars in once in a lifetime artworks, even creating some of his own to add to this infinite world, the entire universe pales in comparison to you. The thick haze of emotions overwhelms him and he finds himself begging, once again. 

"P-please cum for me, my love. I need to see it,” Rafayel begs into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. The sensation makes your entire body shiver, causing your cunt to quiver further into his soaked knee. You’re not used to his voice, normally teasing and bratty voice, being this needy and adoring. It’s all enough to shove you viciously into your orgasm. You cling onto Rafayel as you release all over your panties and his leg, still languidly grinding into you.  

You can’t stop the screams that rip out of your mouth, pure ecstasy and satisfaction laced into your very breath. Rafayel holds you tightly against him, cooing into your ear, talking you through the waves of pleasure, as the excruciating ecstasy makes tears spill out of your eyes and onto your cheeks. 

Rafayel eyes widen in pure awe as he watches every shiver and twitch of your orgasm against his leg. He throws his head back, swearing as your scent becomes exponentially more potent. The smell of your spend is thick in the air, mixing with your pheromones and the perfume until it overloads every nerve in his body. The throbbing in his cock grows unbearable even with nothing touching it, physically twitching uncontrollably as he explodes inside his slacks. 

You cry out one last time when your thighs collapse from the intense climax, and Rafayel catches you by your waist, holding you steady against him and the wall behind you. The movements against your cunt slow as you ride out the final waves of your orgasm. With nothing separating his thigh from your cunt but your soaked panties, Rafayel can swear he feels your clit throb against him, the aftershocks of your climax wracking your body, just as the effects of his own orgasm sear through his. 

You’re a panting and sobbing mess against his flushed chest. Your legs are completely useless, supported solely by Rafayel’s strong and safe arms around your waist and his knee still wedged between you. He rests his face in the mess of your hair, breathing you into him. Unbeknownst to you, Rafayel is reeling from his own climax as he holds you protectively against him, almost for dear life.

Through the comfortable silence that has blanketed the bathroom, Rafayel’s voice vibrates on the top of your head, "You smell so fucking good baby.” 

You smile contentedly against Rafayel’s chest, your hands reaching up to smooth his curly hair away from his sweaty forehead, "Do you feel better?”

He smiles against your head, taking another deep breath of you into him. His voice is thick with satisfaction, but also unrelenting hunger, "Yes, but…” you wait for him to finish his thought, but there’s only silence.

"Rafayel?”

His reply comes out strangled and heavy against the top of your head, "I-I need more. I need you.”

You shift so you can look up at him. He doesn’t speak, but his hooded eyes tell you everything he’s thinking. Maybe it’s the post orgasm haze, but you find yourself being unable to deny Rafayel, wanting nothing more than to please him.

Getting on your toes so you can reach him, you let your bottom lip brush against his, relishing in the way his breath catches in his throat, and whisper, "Take me Rafayel.” 

 "Sh-shit,” he mumbles and presses his lips the rest of the short distance into yours. He tears into you with such torrid intensity that your knees buckle. As his palms hold your face in place, you cling onto his shoulders for support, the feeling of him enveloping you so overwhelmingly addicting. As your legs give out under the excruciating anticipation of what’s to come, you hook your knee into Rafayel’s waist. He grips your thigh, lifting it to hook around his back. His hand kneads into your bare skin as he reluctantly tears his lips from yours. 

"You can’t stand anymore?” His cocky grin contrasts the deep blush on his cheeks. Before you can snap back at him, he hoists you up against the wall. Instinctively you yelp, wrapping your other leg against his waist as he holds you securely against the cool tiles behind you and his solid abdomen.  

His lips simultaneously find yours again, locking deeply with an unrelenting passion that quite literally takes your breath away. As your breath becomes his, your thighs clench at the crushing intensity of his lips, wanting him deeper, harder. His tongue explores every inch of you, and you whimper into him at the pure need that was manifesting in your gut once more. 

Feverishly, Rafayel breaks away, like he cannot possibly wait another second. He doesn’t even break a sweat as he balances your squirming body with one hand, his other hand reaching down to pull off his belt that he’d undone earlier.

You want to ask Rafayel if it’d be more comfortable to go to his bed or even the studio sofa, but you’re rendered speechless as he pulls his cock out of his slacks. You’d felt it in your hands earlier, but seeing it in all its glory under the light was a whole different story. 

Rafayel definitely took pride in how he presented himself, his hair, his clothes; everything about him was pristine and curated just how he wanted others to see him. And his manhood was no different. He stood absolutely proud against his naval, his impressive length erect enough to touch just below his belly button, curving straight up. He’s unsurprisinglt well groomed, but with a dusting of pubic hair along his happy trail to his glorious cock. Like Rafayel himself, it was nothing short of art.

But then you noticed that he has trails of white cream smeared all over his delicious length, matted into the hair along his pelvis. Far too much to be just pre cum. 

"D-did you cum earlier?” You can’t stop the grin that forms on your face as you realize Rafayel had finished earlier just watching you pleasure yourself against him. Literally came undone at the mere thought and sight of your pleasure.

Rafayel averts his eyes, hiding under his tousled bangs, his face tomato red, "Sh-shut up!” His reaction only makes you laugh and want to provoke him more.

"You’re such a bad boy Rafayel, cumming without me touching you,” you coo, using one hand to scratch his hair soothingly, "Just an eager little kitty for me.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrow as his lips form his signature pouty grimace, "I am not a cat.”

You open your mouth to tease him more, but Rafayel pushes you harder into the wall so he can free one hand to rub his thumb against your lips. You yelp at the feel of the stone cold wall being pressed further into your burning skin. With his finger on your mouth, his eyebrow raise at you pointedly.  His eyes light up with an intense and burning warning, "I’m about to fucking ravage you. Are you sure you want to keep teasing me?”

His words shut you up instantly. You shake your head vehemently and obediently, your cunt aching at his promises, needing nothing more than to be filled with him.

"Good girl,” he murmurs, his hand moving off your lips to reach under your dress, hooking his finger into the waistband of your panties. You shiver at the feel of his palm on your waist, as he attempts to pull them off of you. But he quickly grows impatiently frustrated at the tangle of your bodies. 

"I'll buy you another pair, ‘kay?” You’re about to protest but Rafayel wastes absolutely no time, bunching the delicate material in his fist and tearing it off you. You gape as the sound of fabric ripping sounds in the air and watch the lace material fall to the ground. 

"R-Rafayel! I liked that pair!” You scold, hitting his shoulder in a mixture of disbelief but also arousal at his primal urge. You know you should be more upset but you find yourself just melting into a puddle at his unabashed behavior. I mean honestly you wore those in hopes that he might see them anyways.  

"I'll buy you as many as you want, if you let me rip them off of you,” he grins in feigned apologeticness. At your expression he continues, this time earnestly, "M’sorry, just can’t wait anymore.” And with those words, Rafayel sheaths himself into you. You yelp at the alarming stretch, his girth much more than you’re used to. Even with the thick slick of your combined orgasms, it’s slightly painful to accommodate him.

Simultaneously, Rafayel cries out huskily as he enters you, your grip down there absolutely strangling his erection. The finish of your first climax thickly coats his cock, but it’s just barely enough to offset the stretch from how thick he is. His strong arms hold you securely in place as his pelvis slowly begins thrusting up into you, pushing you up the wall at every stroke. 

The angle he has you in meant every single thrust hits your cervix, his cock unbelievably lengthy. The curvature causes every stroke to drag deliciously against your g spot which makes you cream uncontrollably at each thrust, a ring of white forming at the base of his cock that splashes into you with every vigorous stroke. Your clit rubs roughly against his pelvis, his coarse happy trail rubbing against it with every movement, stimulating your body beyond belief.

"Fuck you’re taking me so well baby,” Rafayel moans into your ear, swallowing another mouthful of your aroma. You whimper as you feel him getting unbelievably harder at your scent alone, his solid flesh brushing against every single corner of your gummy walls. His veins throb inside of you as he twitches in pleasure. "So fucking tight, all for me yeah?” 

"Raf, s’big. Feel s’good,” you slur, the haze of ecstasy starting to cloud your consciousness. His thrusts go harder, deeper, at your praises, and you cry out, unable to stop your thighs, and simultaneously your cunt, from tightening around him. 

A strangled moan leaves his lips at your movements, his damp forehead pressing against yours as one of his hands leave your thighs to grip the wall next to you. "Sh-shit are you always this tight or is this jus’ for me?”

Before you can respond, Rafayel is babbling huskily into your ear again, "Wish you could see yourself right now. You look so beautiful, so fucked out, all for me huh?” 

Your eyes squeeze shut at his filthy words, and you can’t help but clench down on him again. Your profuse arousal coats the hair along his pelvis, creating the most filthy and lewd noises as Rafayel continues to bounce you onto his cock, his stamina absolutely unreal. Your lips chant his name, over and over, your brain only filled with him. 

"Look at me Y/N, need to see you,” Rafayel begs into your neck, still absolutely inhaling your pheromones, getting harder at every intake, "Jesus you smell so fucking good.”

You force your eyes open, fighting the ecstasy from taking over completely. As he shifts to stare into your eyes, he gives you the most gorgeous Rafayel smile that threatens to short circuit your brain and stop your heart. There’s an overwhelming swirl of emotions in his purple-blue eyes: lust, mischief, adoration, respect, longing, and…so much love. 

It’s all enough to make you want to confess the feelings you yourself had forced deep down, trying desperately to forget them for the sake of your friendship and working relationship. Rafayel keeps staring into your eyes, straight into your soul, and you finally open your mouth to try and find the words, "I–”

But instead, he cuts you off, bending down so your lips brush against each other again, "I know.” With those words, he presses himself needily into your waiting mouth

Grateful that he doesn’t need you to say the words, you return his kiss with equal fervor, doing your best to convey all the things you had wanted to say.

The bruisingly passionate kiss pushes you towards the edge as Rafayel continues to bounce you ruthlessly onto his cock. You’re forced to pull away from his lips to let out a strangled cry of pleasure. Through the overwhelming ecstasy, Rafayel takes the opportunity to shove his hand in between your bodies, easily finding your clit. The stimulation forces you to scream out uncontrollably, your eyes and head rolling back into the wall. 

"Jesus look at how soaked you are Y/N,” he mumbles in awe, eyes glued to where your bodies connected, "Look, baby.”

At his urging, you force yourself to lift your head off the wall and glance down at his fervent ministrations. The sight you’re met is enough to make you finish all over him right then and there. 

The veins in Rafayel’s thick forearm bulge as he paws at your clit furiously, the slick glistening on his thick length and splatters as the force of his thrusts rattle you deliciously against the cold wall. As he pulls out of you entirely with each thrust, you can see the throb of each vein of his cock, aching to be thrust back inside you. 

"Raf-Rafayel,” you gasp out, "I–”

"I-I know baby, I can feel it. Squeezing the life out of me,” he groans, shifting your entire weight onto his right arm while his left forearm slams into the wall above your head, anchoring him and allowing him to fuck into you with a new mind numbing intensity. 

His chin digs into your shoulder as he hammers into you relentlessly, "Ffuuck baby, gonna make me cum all – shit – over you huh?”

The force of the orgasm that chases you is utterly blinding, and against your better judgment you plead with him, "P-please cum inside Raf, I want to feel you.”

You can feel his panting breath hitch by your ear, and he whispers, "Are you sure? Don’t tease me Y/N. Y-you can’t take it back. Please.”

"Won’t take it b-back,” you wail as his thrusts bruise your walls, the painful pleasure edging you closer and closer to your undoing. "Please Rafayel, need you inside me s’badly.”

At your begging, Rafayel goes absolutely insane. He slams you so vigorously against the wall that you can practically feel the entire house shake. Every throbbing thrust pushes against your more sensitive spots, bullying right into your cervix. His breath becomes increasingly erratic and he sinks his teeth into your neck to contain his throaty moans. 

The sudden sensation of his teeth against your pulse, so dangerously aggressive yet gently teasing, sends you barreling into your orgasm. "Cumming, cumming, m’cumming Raf,” you wail repeatedly, unable to form any other words as tears stream down your face and onto his ruined dress shirt. 

Your hand roughly tears at Rafayel’s hair as he continues to ravage both your clit and your aching hole, finally sending your body into the mind numbing explosion of your climax. Your cunt grips onto him for dear life, throbbing uncontrollably to the sloppy rhythm of his thrusts. You ride the endless waves of your orgasm, vision blurring as tears continue to spill from your eyes. 

"Raf, s’too much,” you whimper, fingers releasing his hair and reaching down to scratch at his back, trying to relieve any of the overwhelming pleasure that threatened to make you lose consciousness. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about how you were destroying Rafayel’s expensive shirt under your nails. Your legs tighten around his waist as he continues to pound you into the wall. You’re almost sure your body will be battered and bruise tomorrow, not that you’d complain. 

"M’sorry,” he pants, but only thrusts harder and faster, "Jus’ hold onto me love. M’so – ffuuck – so fucking close.” You nod obediently, still riding the last receeding waves of your own orgasm, pussy quivering around every ridge and vein on his shaft. 

"Jesus if you could feel how tight you’re squeezing me right now,” Rafayel grits through clenched teeth, "You want me to cum inside you that bad? That you’re gonna force it out of me?”

Your lids feel so heavy as the pleasure of your orgasm ebbs into exhausted satisfaction, and you murmur, "M’not doing anything Raf, you jus’ feel so good. So deep.”

At your praises, Rafayel lets out a strangled groan and comes undone inside of you. You cry out as the warmth of his spend fills you, soothing the ache from the ravaging your poor cunt just took. He shoots rope after rope of it into you, a never ending stream of him emptying inside of you.

Rafayel rests his forehead against yours, his forearm still using the wall above your head to support him. You both pant into each other as the quivering of your cunt squeezes every last drop of him inside you. He shivers at the feeling of your womanhood throbbing around his softening member, completely spent.

Rafayel does his best to keep himself, and you, upright. His arms shake slightly, the aftershocks of his own orgasm devastating every muscle in his body. You can feel his biceps trembling, you fight to keep your eyes open, "S’okay Raf I can stand.”

"Okay love,” he murmurs into your hair, taking in one last whiff of your scent, before pressing a gentle kiss onto your forehead. You whimper as he slips out of you, your sore hole still wanting nothing more to be filled by Rafayel. You do your best to ignore the thick streaks of your collective spend dripping down your legs. As you unhook your thighs and let your feet touch the floor, your body gives out.

Rafayel catches you before your knees can crash into the tiled bathroom floor. You don’t have to look at his face to know he’s smirking at you.

"Need me to carry you baby?”

As you hold yourself up clutching his arm, you narrow your eyes at him, "No. Shut up.”

Rafayel chuckles, the smile in his eyes glowing brightly at you, "Come on Y/N, let me take care of you.”

Your snappy refusal is cut off by your squeal as Rafayel scoops you into his arms, like a princess. You wince at the feeling of the smearing of dampness between your thighs as Rafayel hooks his arms under your thighs. You hadn't even noticed that he’d put his belt back on. 

"Always with the theatrics Rafayel,” you grin, unable to stop yourself from burying your face into his chest. He smiles in response as he carries you through his home. You breathe in Rafayel’s scent, an intoxicating blend of sea salt, cardamom, and arousal. 

"You love me.” 

You sigh to yourself, love him you absolutely did. But that was a conversation you two would need to have another day. 

Looking up, you find yourself in Rafayel’s room, his white curtains billowing as the night time breeze cascades through them. As Rafayel sets you down on his plush king sized bed, your phone rings from the inside of his pocket. You’d almost forgotten you’d given him your phone when Thomas had called earlier. 

The phone keeps ringing as Rafayel sits besides where you lay, attention focused solely on you. You pat his thigh, "Raf? Can you pick up my phone?”

Rafayel grimaces as he grabs your cell phone from his slack pockets. "It’s just Thomas,” he grumbles like a child, "I told him not to call again.”

He takes one look at your unamused expression and sighs in defeat, "Fine fine.” 

Rafayel picks up the phone, snapping, "What Thomas?” 

"Speaker phone,” you mouth at him, only able to hear Thomas’s erratic mumbles through the phone. He rolls his eyes, but puts the call on speaker, holding it up between you two.

"You guys better be half dead in a ditch or actually dead,” he threatens sulkily, "How could you guys not show up?”

"Didn’t I say not to call again?” Rafayel fires back, but his tone is teasing. You know Rafayel cares about Thomas a lot, even if he makes the agent’s life hell. 

"Thomas, I'm so sorry! I’ll make it up to you I swear,” you apologize, feeling horribly guilty. You could only imagine how many angry sponsors and reporters he had to deal with. 

As Rafayel holds the phone with one hand for you to speak into, he notices your black dress had ridden up to reveal glistening streaks pooling down your legs. He uses the index finger of his free hand to scoop up the spend that continues to drip down your thighs. Your breath hitches as he smirks at you, his hand creeping up further, into your inner thigh. 

"You owe me so many dinners,” Thomas grumbles, but you have a difficult time paying attention to the rest of his words as Rafayel’s hands venture further up, dangerously. You give him a warning look, but his fingers only trail up further to tease you, grazing against your bare slit. 

"Are you guys even listening to me?” Thomas demands through the phone, his tone is as pouty as Rafayel normally is.

"Y-yes, I'm sorry,” you try to keep your voice as steady as possible, "I'll uh, I'll get you take out tomorrow!” You swat at Rafayel’s lingering hands but he doesn’t budge. His ears are pink and you notice his breaths are coming out in short pants as he quietly climbs onto the bed at your feet. You do your best to keep your own moans from bursting uncontrollably out of your lips as his fingers relentlessly tease you.

"Yes, and I want boba too. With extra – wait. What are you guys doing?” Rafayel and your eyes snap to each other and then to the phone. You’re about to speak when Thomas’s shrill voice cuts in again.

"You guys better not be doing what I think you’re doing! I swear to g–”

“‘Kay gotta go bye bye Thomas love you!” Rafayel interrupts sheepishly, ending the call with his thumb. There’s a brief moment of disbelief and silence before you both burst out into laughter. 

You clutch your stomach, trying to catch your breath as the uncontrollable giggles keep coming. But the thought of Thomas makes you feel guilty again, "Rafayel maybe we can still make it to the party if we hurry. We can’t just leave Thomas –”

Rafayel shushes you with his finger, his hair falling into his eyes as he leans over you, "I just got an idea for a painting and I have to start right now.” 

You’re no stranger to Rafayel’s spontaneous bouts of inspiration. In the past, he’d literally drag you to the oceanside and not ten minutes into the excursion, he’d race home needing to get started on an idea he had right then and there. And sometimes he’d forget you at the beach.

"Right now? But we’re not in the studio,” you squirm as Rafayel leans closer to your face, shifting his body so that he’s kneeling at your feet, in between your legs. 

"Oh. I meant a different kind of painting. Maybe on your stomach,” your brows furrow in confusion at his words as he smirks mischievously at you. You squeak as he climbs to hover over you, his body pressed against your still sensitive areas. Your body heats up again as the feel of his hardening cock against you. 

His thumb presses against your bottom lip, the salty taste of him invading your senses once more, "Or maybe…on your beautiful face.”

The implications of his words finally hits you all at once, and your face burns like a wildfire. You hit his shoulder weakly and unconvincingly, already succumbing to the arousal pooling back in your thighs as you watch the desperate need return to his eyes. 

"R-Rafayel!” 

"Then again you’re already a piece of art,” he murmurs, his voice groggy with desire. He presses a kiss to your parted lips, then to your exposed collarbone, and then to your covered breasts, "But you know me. I like to take my time with my art.”  Oh you were utterly fucked.

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

"Yesss... I mind toooo...," you mumble before adding a. "...Actuallyyyy, you smell like him~" You open your eyes. The room is blurry and doubled. You're far too drunk to put anything together. "Oh my gooood..." You squint at him. "You even res... resem... resem—look like him!" You grab his face with both hands. "And your skiiin..." You stroke his cheek. "Sooo softtt. Just like Caleb's."

Caleb lets out as chuckle. "Hm. And this boyfriend of yours..." he asks. "What do you like best about him?" At this point, Caleb is simply curious how long it'll take you to realize who you're talking to. "I don't like him." You drop your hands and shake your head. A flicker of uncertainty crosses Caleb's face. "You... don't like your boyfriend?" he asks cautiously. "No, no, no." This time you nod enthusiastically, "I looove Caleb!"

Caleb suddenly stops in his every movement. His heart nearly stops too. Around him, everyone lets out a small gasp. Based on Caleb's stunned silence alone, they all realize the same thing. It's the first time you've ever said it out loud since becoming a couple.

"Y-you... love him?" Caleb asks carefully. "Sooo muchhh! He's the besssttt!" You lean forward and press a finger to his lips, "but shhhhh~~Don't tell him yettt. It's our little secret, Fakeleb." You giggle. "Fakeleb... hehehe..." You laugh at your own joke before promptly falling backward against the wall, your eyes drifting shut again.

Caleb takes a moment to compose himself. "Okay. I think I should take you home now, Pips." He lifts you into his arms while you mumble weak protests about wanting to wait for "Realleb" to come pick you up.

You wake up the next morning in your bed. On your nightstand sits a tray filled with everything needed for a hangover breakfast, prettily arranged alongside a small handwritten note. „Get some rest, hydrate, and eat your breakfast. I'll see you tonight. — Fakeleb 🍏” Slowly, the memories from last night begin returning, including what you said. The rest of the day is spent wondering how you're supposed to handle it. Confessing you love someone while drunk is awful. Caleb deserves to hear it properly and now you have to say it, because he definitely remembers.

When Caleb finally returns after an exhausting day at the fleet, you greet him as if nothing happened. Later, you're stretched out on the couch with your head resting in his lap while the TV plays quietly in the background. After several minutes of working up the courage, you finally speak. "You know, Caleb..." He glances down at you. "I meant what I said." Caleb’s breath fastens, "you don't have to say it back if you're not ready," he says. "I know I say it all the time, but I don't want you to feel pressu—" "I love you, Caleb." Caleb’s holding his breath, any existing emotion rushes through him. You sit up and face him. "I really do," you say quietly, "I always have. Things were just... complicated. But I love you. I truly love you so much." A dozen emotions cross Caleb's face, but you think it's settling into pure happiness. You don't think you've ever seen him look so… genuinely happy.