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Rafayel x yandere!MC, I think it's light, but still.. yandere warning 😳
“We need to talk.”
“About what?” You lift your eyes to Rafayel, casually reaching for a glass to pour yourself some water.
He doesn't answer right away. He stands a few feet away by the doorway of the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest. There is none of his usual playfulness, just a heavy, suffocating silence.
“…You have been busy,” he says quietly.
“Hm.” You offer a small innocent shrug. “You know how it is with my job. Hunter duties don't exactly leave a lot of free time.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh?” You take a sip of water and turn towards him, arching your eyebrow to show that he has your interest.
“I have a hit list,” he says, his voice low with a terrifying calm. You can feel the restrained anger beneath it. A sharp dark tone he almost never uses on you.
“You do?” You tilt your head, a faint, unbothered smile touching your lips as you put down your glass of water. “Tell me more.”
“It appears I don't need to tell you anything at all,” he steps closer. There is a dangerous focus in his eyes. “The list has been rapidly cleared over the last few months. Target by target. Quietly… and efficiently.”
“Hmm.” You track his movement, keeping your posture relaxed. “How strange.”
“There is no trace left behind.” Rafayel continues, stopping right in front of you. He leans in, placing a hand on the kitchen counter on either side of you, trapping you against it. “But I did manage to find one common thread linking to every single one…”
“You—”
“—Me.”
Both of your voices overlap in the quiet room.
You smile up at his intense and dark expression, entirely unfazed by the threat radiating off him. “Jinx.”
Rafayel closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, letting out a harsh strained breath. When he opens them again, the anger cracks, revealing the raw, agonizing frustration underneath.
“…Why?” he whispers, his knuckles turning white against the marble counter. “Why would you do that?”
You look up at him, your smile soft and lovely.
“You are an artist, Rafayel,” you reach up to rest your hand over his clenching jaw. “...Blood on your hands doesn't suit you.”
His breath hitches at your touch, his gaze trembling slightly as he leans into your palm despite himself.
“…Neither does it suit you,” he murmurs, his voice cracking with a fierce and helpless pain.
You pause, the heaviness of his words hanging between you for a heartbeat. But you don't back down. Your fingers gently caress his cheek before slipping down to rest over his heart, feeling it beating against your hand.
“You are asking the wrong question, Rafayel.”
He stares down at you, caught in the trap of your devoted gaze.
“The right question is… what am I willing to do for you?” You lean in slightly, whispering, as if sharing a secret, your voice dripping with a slow molasses sweetness. “And the answer is… a lot.”
“What's that cutie? You are so tired you are sulking?”
“I am not sulking.” You mumble and shoot him a look, and he simply laughs. You have been sitting on his couch with your knees hugged to your chest for a while now, ever since you arrived. It’s become a comforting part of your normal routine now to come by Rafayel’s studio when you are finished with your Hunter duties of the day.
“Yes, yes, you are not, you are simply… contemplating about life.” He pauses briefly, tilting his head. “How can I be of help to you, cutie?”
Before you can think up an answer, he lights up, “oh I know what can help you.”
You watch him disappear out of the living room, and when he reappears, he has a paper bag in his hand.
“Close your eyes, it’s a surprise.”
You hum, but your curiosity is piqued. You close your eyes.
Something warm and soft touches your lips, accompanied by a nice, comforting aroma of baked bread. You open your eyes in delight and happily take a bite out of the pastry he has placed right in front of you.
“Somebody forgot to eat today again, huh?”
You chew on the warm fluffy bread and think about it. He is right, you draw a blank when trying to recall the last time you ate today.
Now that there are some carbs in your system, you already feel a bit better. You give him a smile of appreciation.
“Thanks, Rafayel. We are both really bad at this huh.”
“That’s why we need to look out for each other,” he chuckles, then looks at you and says in a tone like it’s the most serious thing in the world.
“We are partners, in reminding each other to eat.”
“Ten stars out of five? Hah! See? I told you I am a genius!”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms as a smug, triumphant grin takes over my unbelievably handsome face. The sheer delight of your praise makes me want to preen like a proud peacock. “Finally, Miss Bodyguard recognizes true, high class talent. You see, the secret is all in the timing of the sear, which...”
But then you suggest coming along next time. To help. The image of you out on the boat with me, tangling the fishing lines, splashing water everywhere, and laughing while I try to maintain some dignified composure instantly flashes through my mind. A breathless laugh escapes me, and my smug expression softens.
“You? Help me fish?” I tilt my head, my bluish pink eyes gleaming, as I prop my chin in my hand, watching you cut your next bite. “Miss Bodyguard, the last time you tried to help me do anything practical, I’m pretty sure we ended up causing a small disaster. If I bring you out on the water, you’ll probably spend the whole time trying to guard me from the harmless little sea breams, or worse, you’ll get seasick and expect me to carry you around the deck.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh, though my fingers reach across the table again, lightly tapping the back of your hand in a mirroring gesture of your earlier promise. “Buuuut... I suppose a lone artist does get lonely on the open sea,” I murmur. “Aaaand if you’re there, at least I’ll have someone to appreciate my dazzling sea captain look. Fiiiine. It’s a deal. But on one condition...”
I lean in a fraction closer, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “If you get in the way and we don’t catch anything... you’re the one who has to take responsibility and buy me dinner next time. Deal?”
It’s nice to see him this happy from your compliment, though maybe he is also a little… too happy now? You tilt your head and chuckle a little as you watch him preen with such satisfaction.
“I would even cook for you, how about that?” You lower your voice into a playful challenge, slipping your fingers to intertwine with his where they still rest against the back of your hand, arching an eyebrow at him.
“And what if we end up catching more fish because of me?” You lean in slightly and whisper, matching the distance he closed earlier. “What would the deal be then?”
“You? Cook?” I echo, my voice cracking just a tiny bit as I instinctively look toward my kitchen counters. “For me? Miss Bodyguard, I love your enthusiasm, really, I do... but I’m quite attached to my studio and my current state of health. The last time you handled kitchen utensils, it looked like a battle scene.”
But before I can fully dive into my dramatic protest, you slide your fingers between mine, intertwining them against the tabletop. What if we end up catching more fish because of me?
Being this close to you makes my head spin all over again. I stare at your lips before forcing my gaze back up to meet your teasing grin. “More fish? Because of you?” I murmur. A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips as I tighten my grip on your hand, refusing to let you back away from the trap you just set.
“If by some absolute miracle your chaotic energy actually attracts the fish... then I suppose the reward needs to be equally monumental.” I lean in the final remaining inch, until my breath is a warm, intoxicating whisper right against your mouth.
“If you out fish me, Miss Bodyguard... I’ll grant you one wish. Anything you want. I’ll paint you whatever masterpiece you desire, let you drag me to the most boring hunter training seminars, or…” I pause, my eyes darkening with a sudden intensity as my thumb softly strokes the side of your hand. “…I’ll just let you kiss me like you did in the parking lot, whenever aaaand wherever you want, without making a single complaint. How’s that for a high stakes wager?”
“Hmmm” you ponder the deal, a slow, teasing smile spreading across your face. “You mean to say you won’t let me do those things now anyway?”
“I can kiss you like how I did in the parking lot anytime, Rafayel.” You lower your voice into a subtle challenge before breaking out into delighted giggles.
“And excuse you, I am known to be very good with swords, just ask any of my coworkers. But ok, fine. Maybe I have a questionable track record in the kitchen, but I know I can do one thing very well. Since we are done with dinner now, allow me to prove myself. Wait here.”
It takes you a little bit of time to find all the right ingredients and make what you have in mind, but you soon return to the dining table, looking completely pleased with yourself.
You step close to him, leaning down to press a warm mug into his hand.
“I want to drink a cup of hot chocolate watching the ocean with you.”
My jaw drops slightly as you throw my own teasing logic right back in my face, a breathless, frustrated laugh escaping my lips.
“You…” I start, completely helpless against the confidence of your smile. I squeeze your hand one last time before you pull away, my face warm enough to melt the silver accents on my wine glass. “You really are something, Miss Bodyguard. Who said you could just bypass the wager system entirely? Where is the respect for the rules of engagement?”
But then you mention swords and my kitchen’s safety. Before I can even begin to defend my countertops from your potential culinary warfare, you vanish into the kitchen.
I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms and tracking your movements with a mixture of amusement and genuine curiosity. The quiet clinking of mugs and the rich, sweet aroma of cocoa soon begin to drift over the marble island, replacing the savory citrus of the sea bass. I can’t help the incredibly soft, stupidly happy smile that spreads across my face as I watch you work.
When you finally return and press the warm mug into my hands, the heat of the ceramic instantly seeps into my palms. I look up at you, my eyes softening completely at your request.
Watching the sea with you.
“Hot chocolate?” I murmur, looking down at the rich, dark liquid before looking back up at you, my chest swelling with a warmth. A quiet, breathless laugh escapes me. “And here I thought you were going to try and brandish a whisk at me like a sword. This... is actually a highly acceptable peace offering.”
I stand up from the table, holding the mug carefully in one hand while my other slides naturally down to find yours, our fingers easily finding their familiar, perfect fit.
“Come on,” I whisper as I lead you toward the massive, floor to ceiling glass doors of the studio.
With a gentle push, the doors slide open, and the cool, salty night air of the sea instantly sweeps in to meet us. The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs below is a deep, rhythmic lullaby, and the moonlight stretches a shimmering, silver pathway across the dark water.
I pull you out onto the terrace, wrapping my free arm around your waist to pull you flush against my side to shield you from the chilly breeze. I rest my chin lightly against the top of your head, taking a slow sip of the rich cocoa.
“Well, Miss Bodyguard,” I murmur, our eyes looking out over the endless silver of the sea. “You definitely proved yourself. It’s perfect. Though... if you think you can kiss me anytime you want, you’re currently neglecting your duties. Don’t you think?”
Rafayel x MC, established relationship, angst and comfort
The rain soaks through your skin. You are so, so cold.
You look up to the sky, it's grey. Your breath comes out in mists, and the rain blurs your vision.
But most importantly, you realize.
You don't remember who you are.
A girl dressed in the same tactical uniform as you is shaking you, repeating with increasing panic a name that you can only assume is yours. You can tell you are not giving her the response she expects as she starts to cry.
“Why are you crying…? Don’t cry…”
Everything is kind of grey. And slow. And fast. All at the same time. It is a whirlwind of blur. There are doctors, nurses, officers… Many worried faces that you don’t know, many questions. Words that you know individually don’t make sense when put together in a sentence. Wanderer. Protocore. Metaflux. You don’t understand any of it, and it doesn’t feel like any of it really matters either.
You feel like you are watching someone else's life from afar. Everything is so distant and blurry until—
Until he rushes in through the door into your hospital room.
An intense splash of color in an otherwise all-grey world.
You feel your heart leap. You know, instantly, that this person is important to you.
His hand clinging to the doorframe, his clothes slightly drenched, his hair damp and falling into his eyes, his breathing rough, as if he'd been running all this time…
The look in his eyes strikes you differently—a depth and connection that immediately aches your heart in a way that you don’t understand.
You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.
His eyes land on yours and, as if in slow motion, you clearly see the moment when it dawns on him that... you don’t remember him.
And it feels like your world in that instant crashes into pieces.
All the machines around you start screeching loudly as tears suddenly blur your vision, and it feels like you can't breathe.
You desperately, so desperately… don't want to be the reason those eyes look so sad.
You only realize you are uncontrollably sobbing when his arms are around you.
It's a sudden, tight embrace. A smell and warmth envelop you that feel so familiar, deep and bottomless like the depths of the ocean.
“Shh… it's ok…” he whispers. He cradles your head to his shoulder and kisses your hair as you hiccup violently from your outpouring tears. “It's ok… don't worry…”
“I have waited for you before, and I can wait for you again. I won't leave you by yourself, don't worry… I will be here for you…”
You hang onto him like a lifeline, breathing in his scent that is so familiar and so comforting that, for a moment, it does feel like everything will be ok as you shake from all the emotions ripping through you.
You cry into his shoulder. “…I want to remember you…” You can barely speak, you are crying so hard.
“I know… I know, cutie… shh… it's ok.” His hand gently smooths over your hair and falls to rub your back in a slow circle. “It will be ok… don't push yourself so hard.” He nuzzles your face, wiping away your tears with his other hand.
“The important thing is that you remember I am important, yeah? That's already better.” He smiles at you teasingly and laughs a little. You cling onto him tightly, nodding even though your breath comes out in hitches.
For the next few hours, you refuse to let him go, and he just pats your head with all the patience and affection in the world, saying you can have him as long as you like, forever, even. His phone goes off, and he shuts it off without even a second glance.
The doctors explain to him what they suspect happened to you. Something about a Wanderer and so on and so forth… all of it is too many words for you to understand, and all you care about is that he is here, he is holding you, and you can hear his heartbeat.
While the doctors and nurses go in and out constantly, drawing your blood, giving you shots and medicine, he quietly sings you a lullaby, so soft that only you can hear… and you drift into a deep sleep.
When you wake up again, you are somewhere else altogether. Soft blankets, pillows, and his scent surround you, and a dazzling glass dome ceiling meets your eyes.
You turn your head and there he is by the bedside, peeling an apple. There are dark circles under his eyes, he must not have slept for however long it's been. A basin of water is beside him with a towel that he must have used throughout the time to cool you and calm you down.
You reach out for him.
“…Rafayel,” your voice is coarse.
He jumps like a shockwave just went through him, the knife he was peeling the apple with clatters to the ground.
You smile, though some tears start to roll off your face again. He is immediately by your side, holding your face in his hands as he kisses them away. You feel his shivering breath and fingertips on your face, by your eyelashes, on your lips.
“Sorry I am late coming home, Rafayel. Thanks for always being so patient with me…” you whisper, patting his head a little, savoring the feeling of his soft hair against your fingers. “I love you so much…”
His arms are again around you, so tight that you feel like you almost can't breathe. You hear him sniffle near your shoulder.
“I love you more… You shortened my life by at least ten years, you know that?” His voice cracks a little.
“I know, I am sorry… maybe I can add ten years back by taking several weeks of time off and just spending all of it with you…?” you offer with some hope.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“Ten stars out of five? Hah! See? I told you I am a genius!”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms as a smug, triumphant grin takes over my unbelievably handsome face. The sheer delight of your praise makes me want to preen like a proud peacock. “Finally, Miss Bodyguard recognizes true, high class talent. You see, the secret is all in the timing of the sear, which...”
But then you suggest coming along next time. To help. The image of you out on the boat with me, tangling the fishing lines, splashing water everywhere, and laughing while I try to maintain some dignified composure instantly flashes through my mind. A breathless laugh escapes me, and my smug expression softens.
“You? Help me fish?” I tilt my head, my bluish pink eyes gleaming, as I prop my chin in my hand, watching you cut your next bite. “Miss Bodyguard, the last time you tried to help me do anything practical, I’m pretty sure we ended up causing a small disaster. If I bring you out on the water, you’ll probably spend the whole time trying to guard me from the harmless little sea breams, or worse, you’ll get seasick and expect me to carry you around the deck.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh, though my fingers reach across the table again, lightly tapping the back of your hand in a mirroring gesture of your earlier promise. “Buuuut... I suppose a lone artist does get lonely on the open sea,” I murmur. “Aaaand if you’re there, at least I’ll have someone to appreciate my dazzling sea captain look. Fiiiine. It’s a deal. But on one condition...”
I lean in a fraction closer, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “If you get in the way and we don’t catch anything... you’re the one who has to take responsibility and buy me dinner next time. Deal?”
It’s nice to see him this happy from your compliment, though maybe he is also a little… too happy now? You tilt your head and chuckle a little as you watch him preen with such satisfaction.
“I would even cook for you, how about that?” You lower your voice into a playful challenge, slipping your fingers to intertwine with his where they still rest against the back of your hand, arching an eyebrow at him.
“And what if we end up catching more fish because of me?” You lean in slightly and whisper, matching the distance he closed earlier. “What would the deal be then?”
“You? Cook?” I echo, my voice cracking just a tiny bit as I instinctively look toward my kitchen counters. “For me? Miss Bodyguard, I love your enthusiasm, really, I do... but I’m quite attached to my studio and my current state of health. The last time you handled kitchen utensils, it looked like a battle scene.”
But before I can fully dive into my dramatic protest, you slide your fingers between mine, intertwining them against the tabletop. What if we end up catching more fish because of me?
Being this close to you makes my head spin all over again. I stare at your lips before forcing my gaze back up to meet your teasing grin. “More fish? Because of you?” I murmur. A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips as I tighten my grip on your hand, refusing to let you back away from the trap you just set.
“If by some absolute miracle your chaotic energy actually attracts the fish... then I suppose the reward needs to be equally monumental.” I lean in the final remaining inch, until my breath is a warm, intoxicating whisper right against your mouth.
“If you out fish me, Miss Bodyguard... I’ll grant you one wish. Anything you want. I’ll paint you whatever masterpiece you desire, let you drag me to the most boring hunter training seminars, or…” I pause, my eyes darkening with a sudden intensity as my thumb softly strokes the side of your hand. “…I’ll just let you kiss me like you did in the parking lot, whenever aaaand wherever you want, without making a single complaint. How’s that for a high stakes wager?”
“Hmmm” you ponder the deal, a slow, teasing smile spreading across your face. “You mean to say you won’t let me do those things now anyway?”
“I can kiss you like how I did in the parking lot anytime, Rafayel.” You lower your voice into a subtle challenge before breaking out into delighted giggles.
“And excuse you, I am known to be very good with swords, just ask any of my coworkers. But ok, fine. Maybe I have a questionable track record in the kitchen, but I know I can do one thing very well. Since we are done with dinner now, allow me to prove myself. Wait here.”
It takes you a little bit of time to find all the right ingredients and make what you have in mind, but you soon return to the dining table, looking completely pleased with yourself.
You step close to him, leaning down to press a warm mug into his hand.
“I want to drink a cup of hot chocolate watching the ocean with you.”
You peek through the crack of your front door after a soft, hurried knock, blinking in surprise at the heavily disguised figure standing in the hallway.
“Rafayel!”
He presses a finger gently against your lips before you can make more commotion, hushing you as he swiftly sneaks past you into the apartment. He closes the door with a quiet click, checking over his shoulder just in case he was trailed by paparazzi or fans. He is in full incognito gear, an oversized hoodie, a low-brimmed hat, and a black face mask covering everything but those gleaming, mischievous eyes.
“You are back early?” You turn around, your heart racing. It’s been a long time since you have seen him because of his world tour, and you didn’t expect to see him for at least another week.
“I managed to slip away early,” he takes off his mask and gives you a flirtatious smile. “Don’t worry, I technically have Thomas’s blessing. Kind of.”
“Are you hungry? Do you want anything to eat?” You ask, trying to keep your voice casual, and deciding to conveniently ignore the fact that he probably, in fact, does not have Thomas’s blessing. You'd be lying if you said you weren't thrilled to have him standing in your entryway.
“Yeah, starving. What do you have?” He leisurely wanders further into your apartment, shaking out his slightly ruffled hair, completely relaxed like it’s his own place, but he freezes the second he steps into the living room.
“What’s wrong?” You peek around his shoulders to see what caught his eye, and you too freeze when you realize what he saw.
Sitting innocently right in the center of your couch is an official, undeniably cute plushie of him.
For a second, the apartment is dead silent. Both of you snap out of it at the same time, but because he already has a head start, he snatches the plushie off the cushion before your outstretched hand can reach it first.
“Give it back!” A fierce blush burns across your cheeks as you lunge forward, desperately trying to swat the plushie out of his grasp. But Rafayel effortlessly holds it high above his head, fully utilizing his height advantage to keep it completely out of your reach as you hop up and down.
He stands there, still trying to digest the sudden information, his eyes darting from you to the plushie. He turns it over in his hand, examining his mini-self before a smug, deeply pleased smile takes over his incredibly handsome face.
“And here I thought you swore you would never buy my merch,” he teases, his voice dripping with pure satisfaction.
“Shush!” you gasp, face burning as you plant a hand on his chest to push him, which does absolutely nothing to move him.
“Wait, wait, wait.” He brings the plushie closer to his face, his eyes lighting up even more in realization. “Did you custom-make clothes for mini-me?”
“Stop it! Give it back!” You swat at him, utterly mortified. “It’s not my fault that you are always gone for so long!”
“You could have just asked me,” he laughs, his chest vibrating under your palm, “I could have given you any of my merch for free.”
“No, you wouldn’t have!”
You glare at him, and he lets out a bright chuckle. “Yeah you are right, I wouldn't have given it to you without teasing you to absolute death. And, I would much rather have you moping around missing the real me than have some stuffed toy taking my rightful place.”
He flashes you a devastatingly charming smirk. “Nothing beats the real thing, am I right?”
Before you can process his words, he tackles you backward onto the soft sofa cushions, pinning you down as he tosses the plushie carelessly and intentionally to the side, where it lands unceremoniously on the floor.
The blaring sound of the phone ringing over and over breaks through the early morning sun. Rafayel groans, barely opening his eyes as he reluctantly rolls over in bed. He reaches for the device on his nightstand, holding it far away from his face as if it might detonate.
The caller ID shows it's Thomas. Rafayel frowns deeply, still feeling barely awake, his eyes adjusting to the bright light, before he finally lets out a long sigh and gives in to the call.
“What is it, Thomas…? It's my time off… I am not scheduled for another few weeks.” Sleep is heavy in his voice as he pushes himself to sit up, rubbing his eyes and checking the time.
“Rafayel, there is an executive escalation. They want you to join a call right now.”
Rafayel lets out a groan. “Again?”
“It's an emergency.”
“It's always an emergency.”
“No, this time it's different. Or that's what they said, anyway.”
Rafayel lets out a snort. It’s always a nice change of pace when Thomas breaks character a little to show that he, too, thinks how ridiculous this all is sometimes.
“Fine, I will join… message me the link.”
Rafayel doesn’t bother to change out of his pajamas or even fix his hair that was ruffled from sleep. He plops into his chair unceremoniously, flips open his laptop, and clicks into the meeting.
A chorus of overlapping arguments screeches to a halt the second the ping announces his arrival. The executives' eyes, stern and professional, yet desperate and pleading, all lock onto him through the screen.
Rafayel sighs, pressing a hand to his forehead as if a massive headache is already forming.
“Ok…” he murmurs. “What did you guys do this time?”
“Ten stars out of five? Hah! See? I told you I am a genius!”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms as a smug, triumphant grin takes over my unbelievably handsome face. The sheer delight of your praise makes me want to preen like a proud peacock. “Finally, Miss Bodyguard recognizes true, high class talent. You see, the secret is all in the timing of the sear, which...”
But then you suggest coming along next time. To help. The image of you out on the boat with me, tangling the fishing lines, splashing water everywhere, and laughing while I try to maintain some dignified composure instantly flashes through my mind. A breathless laugh escapes me, and my smug expression softens.
“You? Help me fish?” I tilt my head, my bluish pink eyes gleaming, as I prop my chin in my hand, watching you cut your next bite. “Miss Bodyguard, the last time you tried to help me do anything practical, I’m pretty sure we ended up causing a small disaster. If I bring you out on the water, you’ll probably spend the whole time trying to guard me from the harmless little sea breams, or worse, you’ll get seasick and expect me to carry you around the deck.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh, though my fingers reach across the table again, lightly tapping the back of your hand in a mirroring gesture of your earlier promise. “Buuuut... I suppose a lone artist does get lonely on the open sea,” I murmur. “Aaaand if you’re there, at least I’ll have someone to appreciate my dazzling sea captain look. Fiiiine. It’s a deal. But on one condition...”
I lean in a fraction closer, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “If you get in the way and we don’t catch anything... you’re the one who has to take responsibility and buy me dinner next time. Deal?”
It’s nice to see him this happy from your compliment, though maybe he is also a little… too happy now? You tilt your head and chuckle a little as you watch him preen with such satisfaction.
“I would even cook for you, how about that?” You lower your voice into a playful challenge, slipping your fingers to intertwine with his where they still rest against the back of your hand, arching an eyebrow at him.
“And what if we end up catching more fish because of me?” You lean in slightly and whisper, matching the distance he closed earlier. “What would the deal be then?”
The sharp, clear clink of our glasses still echoes in the quiet air when you drop that little superstition on me.
My hand freezes midair, the wine glass held just inches from my lips. I blink, my eyes widening as I stare straight into yours. For a second, the confident, smooth chef completely vanishes, replaced by a flustered Lemurian who takes things like curses and bad luck far more seriously than he’d ever care to admit.
“Seven years?!” I echo. I immediately widen my eyes at you. “You... you can’t just tell me that after we clink glasses! Are you trying to jinx my artistic inspiration? Or worse, my love life?!”
I take a slow, deliberate sip of the wine, keeping my eyes locked onto yours the entire time. The crisp, acidic sweetness of the vintage washes over my tongue, but I barely even taste it because the sheer intensity of looking at you without breaking away.
When I finally lower the glass, a faint, burning crimson flush has crawled all the way up to my ears. A helpless smile breaks through my intense stare.
“Seven years of bad luck... as if I’d ever risk that,” I murmur. “I already waited a lifetime just to get you to look at me like this. I’m not giving up a single second of our future over a toasted curse.”
I set my glass down, never once breaking eye contact, before leaning forward across the table. I reach out, my fingers sliding over yours on the tabletop.
“To having more of this every single day,” I repeat your toast. “And just so you know, Miss Bodyguard... even if you did look away, I’d probably just find a way to charm the bad luck right out of you anyway. Now, eat your fish before I decide to take your speaking privileges away again for making my heart race during dinner.”
A lifetime. You wonder sometimes if he means it literally. You think he does.
Something warm settles in your chest.
“I am counting on it, Rafayel,” you respond with a soft giggle, tapping his hand over yours like it’s a promise. You always enjoy throwing Rafayel off his game, but to keep from pushing your luck too far, you give him a playful salute before finally breaking eye contact to look down at your plate.
The silver knife glides effortlessly through the crisp, seared skin of the sea bass, releasing a faint steam carrying notes of citrus and fresh herbs. The cutlery chimes softly against the porcelain as you take a bite.
“It’s amazing,” you murmur, smiling contently as you savor the tender, rich flavor melting on your tongue. “I would give it ten stars out of five. How am I supposed to eat fish cooked by anyone else ever again?”
You tilt your head, watching him across the table as you cut your next piece of fish. “You said you caught these yourself? You should bring me along next time. I would love to see you hunting fish in action. Maybe I can even help.” You laugh a little, knowing that you are more than likely to get in the way rather than actually help, but just that idea itself makes it quite appealing.
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“You are not allowed to die! I order you to stay alive!”
Panic seeps through your voice as you feel your hands run cold. You press down on his wound, desperate to stop the bleeding, but you can already feel warm blood soaking through the makeshift bandage, staining your palms.
“Princess… I won’t die from this…” His voice, though strained, is remarkably steady for how grave the injury is. He slowly lifts a hand to wipe away the tears you are failing to hold back, his eyes searching yours. “...But that is not a reasonable order… you know that, right…?”
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masterlist
A/N: Titanic!Rafayle made me think.. oh wait, I can do inspirations from shojo! *gasp lol. This one is from Yona of the Dawn.
The sudden sneak attack hug from behind nearly makes me drop the kitchen towel right onto the sea bass. My entire body goes rigid for a second, my breath catching sharply as the warmth of your embrace presses into my back and your face rests against my shoulder.
By the time I recover enough to dramatically complain about kitchen safety hazards, you’ve already dashed off, leaving me standing over the stove with a flush of red refusing to leave my ears.
I carry the plates over to the table, taking extra care to set down the beautifully arranged dishes right in the center of your immaculate setup. When you look up at me with that playful smile and ask for a walkthrough, I can’t help but lean back in my chair, crossing my arms.
“Ah, so now you want to appreciate the culinary arts?” I tease, tilting my head as my eyes gleam under the warm dining lights. “Listen closely, yeah? A masterpiece like this requires a sophisticated palate to truly understand.”
I point a dramatic finger toward the main dish.
“First, we have the pan seared sea bass, caught fresh this morning by yours truly. I’ve paired it with a bright citrus herb reduction, using the exact lemons you didn’t think I could grow on the terrace...”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table and propping my chin in my hands. “And to top it off, a glass of that vintage white wine I mentioned. It’s rare, completely irreplaceable, and reserved exclusively for the most important person in my life.”
I pour a bit of the wine into your glass, then into mine, before raising my eyes to lock onto yours. “So, what do you think, my captive cutie? Does the chef merit a five star review, or do I need to keep sweet talking my way into your good graces?”
You softly giggle at his dramatic display, and how he oh so casually slips in “the most important person in my life” in the middle of it all.
“Hold on there, chef,” you tease, swirling the wine and observing the pale gold streaks it leaves on the glass. “I believe we need to taste the food first before reviews can be given. The plating is absolutely immaculate, though.. and the table setup, if I do say so myself. But most of all, the company I get to keep tonight shines above all. The company is truly... captivating.”
Locking your eyes onto his, you smile and lift your glass for a toast.
“To having more of this every day.”
You clink your glass gently against his, the sharp, clear chime echoing softly in the quiet atmosphere of the evening. Keeping your eyes on his, you take a sip of the wine, letting the crisp, acidic sweetness and full body spread across your tongue. You tip your glass slightly in his direction, your smile turning a little mischievous.
“Have you ever heard of the superstition that if you break eye contact while toasting, it will curse you with seven years of bad... luck?”
You pass by Rafayel painting in his studio like a wind, making your way straight to his bedroom to flop face down into his bed. It’s been a long day. You need emergency remediation.
You bury your face into his pillow, letting out a deep, exhausted but satisfied sigh. The soft pillows, the fluffy comforter, and his familiar scent are instant relief.
“Why are you using my bed like it’s yours?”
Rafayel has gotten up to follow you. He is now leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, watching you and softly chuckling at your antics.
“It’s big, and soft, and fluffy, and it’s pretty. Look at that gorgeous ceiling,” you mumble into the pillow, waving a hand vaguely to gesture toward the massive glass dome ceiling above. You roll over slightly, pulling a pillow to your chest. “…And it smells like you. I like it.”
Right after saying that, you burrow deep into the blankets until only some strands of your hair are showing.
Rafayel pauses, but quickly gathers himself and steps closer, planting his hands near you on the bed as he leans down over where you've buried yourself in his blankets.
“This can be your bed every day, you know,” he whispers suggestively, a knowing, teasing smirk in his voice.
You promptly reach a hand out of your blanket fortress and swat at his head.
He chuckles, ducking away easily.
“Ok, ok,” he says, his voice softening into warmth as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Move over and make space for me. I am feeling generous today, we can cuddle.”
You light up inside the blankets. You quickly shuffle over, freeing up half the space to let the fishie into his own bed.
The moment I hear the word angry, my shoulders instantly slump. I blink, my expression melting as I see your incredibly sad and convincing puppy eyes.
“Angry? Me?” My voice hitches. “No! No, no, no, I’m not angry, cutie! How could you even think…”
I look down at your hand. Within seconds, my face completely explodes into a bright crimson. Your pulse against my fingers sends a jolt straight up my arm.
“Ugh, you are completely unfair,” I groan, burying my face into my free hand. I peek at you through my fingers. “You can’t just drop a massive insecurity on me, and then look at me like that…”
With an exaggerated huff, I slide my hand back up from your wrist, my palm cupping yours on the cool marble counter. I lean across the island again, my face inches from yours.
“Fiiiine. You’re forgiven,” I murmur. I squeeze your hand gently. “But you have to pay a penalty for making me look like the bad guy. For the next hour, you aren’t allowed to say a single self deprecating thing. You just have to sit there, eat the food I’m about to finish cooking, and accept that I think you’re the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to me. Deal?”
Relieved that you have managed to undo whatever you just did, you light up.
“Deal! You are the best! I will be good,” you nod your head convincingly. “I will help set up the table.”
Before he can protest your help, you beeline into the kitchen to get the plates and cutlery. As you pass behind him, you sneak a quick hug from his back while he watches over the stove, giving him a little squeeze and resting your face against his shoulder for a brief moment before you quickly dash back out.
The porcelain plates make soft thuds against the table as you set them down, the quiet clink of cutlery and wine glasses joining the warm smell of seared fish and bright citrus already filling the room.
As you admire your setup with the neatly folded napkins, Rafayel also approaches the table carrying the beautifully plated dishes, because of course they would be beautifully plated.
"Would you like to walk me through the menu, chef?" As you two settle into your chairs, you smile playfully and warmly up at him.
The rhythmic thud, thud, thud of the knife against the cutting board instantly stops. I don’t just pause… I freeze entirely, the knife still resting against a half sliced lemon. The soft, contented humming dies in my throat, replaced by a sudden, heavy silence that fills the space between us.
Slowly, I turn my head to look at you. My eyes are wide, reflecting disbelief. It’s the look of an artist who just watched someone carelessly smudge a masterpiece they spent lifetimes trying to perfect.
I carefully set the knife down on the board, wiping my hands on a kitchen towel before I lean forward against the marble island, bringing my face level with yours. “What did you just say?” I murmur. “Do so much better?”
I reach across the small distance of the counter, my fingers gently wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand away from your chin so you have no choice but to look at me. My thumb presses against your pulse, feeling its steady rhythm.
“Listen to me very carefully,” I whisper, my gaze locking onto yours. “Don’t you ever say something so utterly foolish again. Especially not to me.” A soft, breathless huff escapes me as I lean in closer.
“Do better? Than you?” I let out a quiet laugh. “You really have no idea, do you? I spent centuries drowning in the dark, entirely forgotten, until you fished me out. You think you caught me? Silly hunter... I’m the one who swam into your net on purpose, begging to be caught.”
I gently squeeze your wrist before letting my fingers slide down to entwine with yours, resting our joined hands on the cool marble between us.
“There is no better than you. There never has been, and there never will be,” I murmur. “So stop trying to disqualify yourself from a prize you’ve already won. Understand? Now... go back to just staring at me. It suits you much better than these ridiculous doubts.”
“Rafayel, are you… angry?” You blink. This has been a much, much stronger reaction than you expected, not just for your comment, but for Rafayel in general, who rarely shows emotions anywhere near the spectrum of anger. It makes you feel… kind of bad.
Your pulse is probably faster now, and you wonder if he can feel it through his touch. You suddenly become hyper aware of the cool marble beneath your hand and the burning warmth of his. You softly brush the back of his hand with your thumb in slow, quiet circles.
“Actually, don’t answer that,” you mumble. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
You lift your eyes from looking at his hand holding yours and look up, giving him your best sad puppy eyes. “You will forgive me, right?”
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I watch your hands drop to your sides, a slow smirk spreading across my face as I gently close the heavy studio door behind us. The click of the lock echoes softly in the high ceilinged room, shutting out the rest of the world entirely.
“Pinching your own cheeks now? Are you trying to make sure you’re not dreaming again, Miss Bodyguard?” I tease softly, leaning my back against the door and crossing my arms. “You know, if you wanted someone to squeeze your cheeks, you really could have just asked. I’m highly qualified.”
I take a few slow, deliberate steps into the room, shedding my tailored suit jacket and tossing it carelessly over the back of the nearest sofa. Rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt to my elbows, I finally look back at you, a soft laugh escaping my lips at your sudden, overly professional interest in the menu.
“What’s on the list? Let’s see...” I walk over to the kitchen island, leaning my palms against the marble counter as I look at you. “Fresh sea bass, citrus, some herbs I’ve been cultivating on the terrace, and a very specific vintage white wine that I hid away from Thomas.”
I tilt my head, my eyes locking onto yours. “As for help... absolutely not,” I murmur, a wicked smile tugging at my lips. “You promised you’d let me take responsibility, remember? Your only job tonight is to sit right there, look beautiful under my studio lights, and keep staring at me just like you did in the car. Think your hunter stamina can handle that baseline duty, or do I need to find an easier assignment for you?”
“Looking beautiful sounds a bit hard, to be honest. I don’t think that’s something one can do on demand,” you chuckle, pulling out a barstool to sit right across from him by the kitchen island, resting your chin in your palm. “But go on. Staring I can do.”
You watch the way his hands move elegantly, even if it’s just putting down a cutting board, taking ingredients out of the fridge, or picking up a knife. Even when cooking, he looks like he is making art.
You think of the times in the past when you insisted on helping him in the kitchen, and how much chaos you two managed to cause instead and smile a little.
The sound of water bubbling on the stove, the steady, rhythmic thud from the chopping board, him humming a soft, unnamed tune with a smile on his lips... It’s all incredibly mesmerizing, and in a way, makes you feel a bit more honest. And perhaps a bit more vulnerable.
You deeply breathe in the delicious aroma already filling the air and let out a soft sigh.
“How did a catch like you end up landing in my net? You could probably do so much better.”
Rafayel, emergency coping writing for Sunset on Canvas.
A/N: Man this game. I thought I was safe, then it still got me. 😂😭 (obviously spoilers below if you haven't seen the card). It might not be accurate but I need to write to cope lol.
“Rafayel!!”
You are the first to wake up from the evol theater. Panicking from everything still feeling so real, you search for him right away. He is still right beside you, eyes closed and brow furrowed, just beginning to stir awake.
“Rafayel?” Your hand shakes as you touch his face, all sorts of bad thoughts running through your mind.
His eyes flutter open a little. He still looks a bit disoriented, but his gaze is already starting to focus on you.
“Don't worry…” he mumbles. He reaches out a bit unsteadily, but still manages to pull you to his chest. “I am here…”
“Are you ok? Are you…” You try to break away from his grasp to check on him, reaching for his face again, already feeling a sense of déjà vu as you do.
He grunts, his arms tightening to pull you back into him fully. “I am not hurt.”
“Do you… do you also remember?” You ask a little shakily, not quite sure if you are ready for the answer.
“...I do,” he sighs. “What a crappy setting they gave me…”
You swat at his chest. He chuckles, the vibration rumbling against you as he pulls you in even closer.
“It’s all part of us now,” he mumbles into your hair. “We can still be together for more time.”
“And hey,” he softly laughs in the familiar, teasing way you know so well, “now I have one more undeniable proof that I will always choose you.”
He pauses, and suddenly, looking like he just remembered something, his smirk deepens. “And… I like the way you talked about me. The Linkon City Rafayel.”
