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Rafayel's

"The Little Mermaid"

Content: The original tale by Hans Christian Andersen, modified to have Rafayel as the protagonist. Other characters have also been genderbent. I've tried to keep the story as close to the original as possible, while also incorporating some new elements as well as modifying others to fit Rafayel.

Warning: This is not like Disney's version of the story. The original fairytale is less sweet, and doesn't have a happy ending. Expect angst.

Word count: 6.1k (+ Author's Note and Bonus at the end)

Tagging the people who commented on my initial post about this fic: @fancyhawk45 @anxiousgoddest @exactlycleverpirate @solinmoirav @his-ocean-emissary @aneverydaysimp Thank you for waiting <3

“Oh, it’s wonderful,” Rafayel’s brother muses, “humans are so lively and interesting… It’s just like our brother said last year. No, even better! Rafayel, you’re gonna love it once it’s your turn.”

Rafayel listens to his brother’s tale starry eyed. He just returned from the surface, like their brothers before him on their coming-of-age birthday. Next year, it will be his turn.

Unfair, he thinks, that he’s the youngest, yet the one most interested in humans. Every year for the past 5 years, his brothers have had the pleasure of seeing the human world for themselves, while he has to wait and be content with the stories they tell once they come back.

He has tried to protest to his parents, the Sea King and Queen, as well as his grandmother, but they’ve just told him to be patient. His mother, at least, gave him something to help him pass the time: A statue of a human girl that she found once while swimming near the coast.

He cherishes it dearly, visiting it every day and asking it questions, imagining what the responses would be like.

“Do you like painting too?” he asks, showing it the drawing he just finished.

A pause.

“Yeah, I painted it myself. You must use different things to create the pigments, you don’t have algae up there, do you?”

He looks around the Royal garden the statue has been placed in.

“No, you have…” he tries recalling the stories, “Flowers! That’s the word. They’re supposed to be as colorful as nudibranchs and shaped sorta like anemones, right?”

The statue remains silent.

“Oh, how I wish you could speak, so I could ask you a million questions…”

Rafayel spends his days talking to the statue, painting how he thinks the surface world looks, daydreaming about seeing it all for himself. With each passing day, the fondness he feels grows. It doesn’t help that his brothers like to tease him about how he’s the only one that hasn’t been above water yet.

Luckily, the year seems to fly by. Well, except for the week before his birthday, in which he can’t sleep nor eat. He swims nervously from place to place, barely able to contain his excitement.

“It’s today, it’s today, it’s today!” He chants, waking up his whole family.

They can’t help but feel happy too, he’s been waiting for this day a long time and it’s hard to be angry at him for waking them up so early.

He can’t claim victory yet, though, because the coming-of-age ceremony can’t be skipped, and he won’t be able to see the surface until nighttime.

To him, the day seems to stretch infinitely, his goal becoming more unreachable with each passing moment. He opens his presents in a rush, not even stopping to see what they are once they’re out of the wrapper. He says his sea vows as fast as the words can form in his mouth. He visits the rest of the sea creatures with a speed that would rival a sailfish. He lets his grandmother adorn his hair with a wreath made of pearls. But alas, his family won’t let him go that easily. He must spend the day with them, even if the rest of the tasks have been completed.

There’s a stillness as the sun goes down and its rays stop reaching the waters.

Rafayel turns to his family expectantly, his heart fluttering.

His grandmother nods with a smile.

He’s gone from view in an instant, only bubbles left in his wake.

He notices the water change as he goes up, the temperature, the saltiness, the pressure. There’s so much to process that he wants to scream with joy. And then- He stops.

The surface.

He can see the barrier. Where water ends and air starts. Suddenly, he finds himself feeling anxious, even scared. What if it’s not like he imagined?

Slowly, he lifts an arm and grazes the edge. His fingers retract at the odd sensation. He tries again.

He waves his hand, now strangely… Dry. That’s a first.

Taking a leap of faith, he lunges his head out. The water splashes around him and his hair sticks to his forehead. Weird.

But he’s too enthralled by what he’s seeing to be preoccupied with that. The night sky. The moon. The stars. The lack of sound. He always thought the surface was a very noisy place. Sure, his ears ring a bit, but it fades away as he gets used to the environment.

He snaps out of it, looking around. If what his brothers told him was correct, he needs to swim eastward for an hour to reach land and see the humans. He doesn’t waste a second, his tail forming waves as he swims near the surface.

Half an hour later, he sees something that completely derails his plans.

A ship. Not only a ship, but one from which fireworks are being set off.

At first he has to dive underwater and cover his ears, overwhelmed by the abundance of noise, but his desire to see the magnificent colors on display is bigger, and he peeks his head out once more. 

“What are those?” He says to no one in particular, then grabs his throat. He didn’t expect to be able to speak so clearly.

His focus goes back to the ship, curious about the source of these strange lights.

Even if his family told him not to interact with the humans, they didn’t say anything about swimming close to them, so this is fine, right?

He nears the vessel, hearing cheery voices and what sounds like music.

Using his upper body strength, honed by his constant swimming, he grabs one of the dangling ropes and pulls himself up until he can just barely see the deck.

He almost slips and lets go as he takes in the view. So many humans, dancing and laughing, right before his eyes. White-knuckling the rope, he tries to understand what’s happening.

Ah, they must be having a party. …what’s the reason for celebration?

“Princess, did your birthday party really have to be at sea? You know I get terribly nauseous!” Two women walk near the railing where Rafayel is perched.

A birthday? For a Princess? What a coincidence! He’s also a Prince celebrating his birthday! He looks up at the women.

“I know, but I wanted to make it special somehow, since I’m officially an adult!” She laughs.

The rope slips from his grasp and he falls into the water with a splash, covered by the sound of the fireworks.

What was that? That… Feeling. Why are his cheeks red? That girl…

He pops out of the water, searching for her face again.

“Come on, let’s dance, you’ll forget you’re out in the sea in no time!” She grabs the other woman’s arm and leads her to the center of the deck with the rest of the humans.

Thoughts form in his head about him dancing with her. If he had legs… No, that’s a wild thought.

Wait, why is he having these thoughts in the first place?

He climbs the rope again. She’s twirling, and skipping, and clapping along with the guests. The music is coming from a band playing near the mast.

Rafayel watches and watches, not noticing the smile forming in his face, or the fact that the fireworks eventually stop, or the dark clouds rolling in. 

It’s not until a lightning cracks and the wind picks up that he looks away from her and up to the skies. The humans get startled too, the music and cheer stopping.

Orders are immediately shouted to pack everything and sail back to land. Rafayel is a bit disappointed that the fun got cut short, but he jumps back in the water, intending to follow the ship back to the continent.

A wave pulls him under, and he realizes that the sea isn’t as calm as when he first emerged. The humans are lucky to have their vessel, they probably wouldn’t make it in these waters, he thinks, recalling one of his brothers telling him about a human that drowned during a storm. To him, however, this seems like a fun time.

As he resurfaces, the raindrops start hitting his face. So that’s what rain feels like. And the thing from before, that was lightning and thunder.

Sometimes, when the storm had been violent enough, he had heard the booms even while at the bottom of the sea. Of course, it was entirely different to experience it firsthand. Much scarier. 

The ship starts moving, waves crashing on its sides. The wind tousles his hair back and forth, the flashes of light becoming more frequent. He hears the humans start to panic as the ship is rocked harshly. He instinctively looks for her.

She is shouting orders and trying to calm everyone while she helps the crew, her hands slipping as she pulls on ropes due to the rain that has already soaked her.

Why aren’t they protecting her? Isn’t she the Princess? Get her out of-

There’s no time to be protective. A huge wave, double the size of the hull, crashes into the ship. It tilts to the side and capsizes, all of its passengers falling into the relentless sea.

Rafayel dives, maneuvering through debris and drowning figures.

It might be selfish of him, considering he’s about to go against his family’s orders, but he has to save her. Rational thoughts are not in the picture in a situation like this.

“Come on, come on, where are you…”

Finally, he spots her. She’s sinking, unconscious.

He tackles her as he grabs her by the waist, pulling her up and away from the chaos.

“Don’t die on me now,” he scolds her.

He manages to bring her up to the surface, but the waves are too frequent and big to let her breathe. 

His arms stay around her protectively, his grip so determined it might leave bruises, but he keeps swimming towards land without faltering, always trying to keep her as raised as possible, and by the time they reach the shore, the sun is showing its first rays.

He pants as he lays her on the beach. She’s still unconscious, though her heart hasn’t stopped.

“Good job, Rafayel, you brought her here and you don’t even know what to do now,” he  complains to himself.

With gentle hands, he moves the hair out of her face. She looks so beautiful even now. He can’t help it, he needs to kiss her.

Closing his eyes, he presses his lips to her forehead. A silent prayer for her to live.

Suddenly, the nearby forest rustles, followed by footsteps. He perks up and dives back into the water.

“Yes! They will be able to help her!” He hides behind a rock and watches.

A young man in strange robes appears. A religious figure of some kind, Rafayel thinks, comparing him to the underwater priestesses running the temple to the God of the Sea.

The young man kneels next to the Princess, then calls for help. He starts massaging her chest in a way that looks foreign to Rafayel, and soon other men appear to help him.

The Princess coughs water, leaning forward as she regains consciousness. She gasps and clutches her neck, looking around her. Her eyes fall on the young man.

“You… You saved me…” She whispers.

Rafayel dives just to scream “WHAT?”, resurfacing to watch the rest of the scene.

“Please, your Majesty, I simply found you here and did what any common person would have done. Now, let’s get you back to the castle. What happened?”

He helps her up and leads her into the forest, the other men following them.

Rafayel lets his head lean on the rock, frustrated.

“But… I was the one that saved you… That’s not fair…”

For some strange reason, this hurts him deeply. He doesn’t understand why this stranger is having such an effect on him.

Tired and upset, he decides to head back home, even if his trip to see the surface world didn’t get him far. After all, now that he’s an adult, he can visit whenever he pleases. Right now he just wants to get as far away from this place as possible.

As he swims back, his family welcomes him with a smile that soon turns to a frown as he goes past them and into his room. They look at each other, confused.

His brothers decide to ask him what happened, softly knocking on his door. There’s no answer. They open the door and find him lying face down on the bed, with his head propped on his crossed arms.

“Is everything okay, Rafayel?”

“Yes. Leave me alone.”

His brothers respect his wishes and leave him, but they still discuss what could have put him in such a mood when he was so excited to go to the surface.

The days pass, and Rafayel refuses to talk about it still. His family worries for him, because now he spends even more time in the garden with the statue, lost in thought and barely painting.

A statue that now seems akin to that Princess, no matter how different they might actually be. When he looks at it, he sees her.

In secret, he swims every morning to the surface, to that shore where he left her, but he never sees the Princess come by. This only makes his deteriorating state worse.

One day, fed up with her absence, he can’t take it any longer and he tells his brothers what happened on that day.

It turns out that one of his brothers knows who he’s talking about, because he swam by her castle once and saw her. That same day, with renewed hope, they make their way to the coast where the castle resides.

He’s ecstatic. The Princess is right there, sitting by the stone steps that lead to the beach, gazing calmly at the horizon.

For better or for worse, Rafayel now spends as much time as possible near the castle, looking at her, painting her. If she’s not there, he hides near the pier and listens to the fishermen talk about her, all the good deeds she’s doing and how lucky they are to have her as a Princess.

This fills him with joy. To have saved such a wonderful person… 

And yet, she doesn’t know of his existence.

Each day that Rafayel spends near the coast, his love for humans grows, and he always returns home with a million questions for his family, to the point that even they cannot satisfy his curiosity.

He decides to turn to his grandmother, the wisest in all of the sea when it comes to human matters.

“Can humans live for as long as us?” He asks, bright eyed.

“No, they cannot. They have shorter lives, and instead of turning into seafoam once they die, they are buried by their loved ones.”

“So I’ll watch them die?” His smile turns to a grimace.

“Yes, that is how the world works. But why are you sad about this? You get to live and enjoy the wonders of the world for longer. Humans have nothing to do with us, in any case. They find us strange, an ill omen at times. You shouldn’t worry about them so much.”

His grandmother’s words bring him back to the reality of the situation. He can’t be by her side, and will be doomed to watch her die. And she will never learn of her true savior.

No, he thinks, I cannot let this come to pass. I have to do something.

Rafayel remembers a tale told by his parents, of a dreadful Sea Witch that lives in the deepest cave of the ocean’s floor. Dreadful, but also powerful.

Determined, he sneaks out in the middle of the night to visit her.

The carcasses of several animals and fish are strewn around the jagged rocks leading to her cave, which is adorned with the remains of sunk ships. He has to dodge a few whirlpools that threaten to plunge him down into the abyss, but once he clears them, he finds himself at the cave’s entrance, only a black void to welcome him. Tentatively, he leans his head past the threshold, only to be hit by a shiver down his tail.

Gathering his courage, he swims in with determination.

At first, nothing. Darkness. A cold current his only companion.

He sighs with relief as a faintly illuminated clearing comes into view.

“I know why you’re here,” says the Witch, hearing his sigh.

Rafayel freezes, assessing the scene before him. The witch sits atop a rock, eels and water-snakes circling her playfully. Her tail sways to and fro, the bones decorating it rattling as it moves.

“How?” He swims closer, still keeping his distance.

“I know everything that goes on under and above water. You came here asking for a solution to your ails, a way to be with the one you love; the Princess,” she cackles, tapping a finger to her chin.

He feels the tip of his ears turn red. Is that what he is feeling? Love? Before he can ponder it, the witch speaks again.

“It’s an awfully stupid idea, but I can make it happen…”

“You can? What’s the catch?”

“You have to give me,” she pauses, looming closer, “your tongue.”

“What?” He retreats, putting his hand over his mouth.

“It’s no easy potion to make. To turn a creature into a different one… I’d say the price is more than fair.”

“Wait, wait, wait. First, tell me how the potion will work.”

“Your appearance will turn into that of a human. You will lose your tail, but gain a pair of legs. Of course, you will never be able to turn back, or see your family ever again. Your lifespan will also be reduced to that of a human’s. But then again, I guess that last part works in your favor, doesn’t it?” She smirks.

Rafayel stops to think about it. His mind, however, is too clouded with thoughts of the Princess and how it must be to live on the surface.

“Will it hurt?”

“Oh, greatly so. When you turn, it will feel as if your tail is being cut in half. And when you use your legs, every step will feel like knives jabbing into your feet. However, you will also be the best dancer on the surface, and every human you encounter will see you as the most handsome man they’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“This doesn’t seem like the greatest trade-off…” He crosses his arms, frowning.

“I heard the King and Queen are looking for candidates to marry their daughter. It would be a shame to visit her like you always do, and find her with a man by her side, wouldn’t it?”

The Witch’s taunts work.

“Fine. Any other annoying rules I should know about?” He rolls his eyes.

“Once you’re a human, you will have to win the Princess’s heart. Just to remind you, since I’m taking your tongue, you won’t be able to talk.”

“Then, how…”

“You’re an artist, aren’t you? I’m sure you have enough creativity to think of a way to charm her,” she dismisses the thought with her hand. “As I was saying, she has to fall in love with you, and marry you. If she, by any chance, marries another, you will become seafoam as soon as the next morning’s sun rays start to shine.”

“That won’t happen. I can do this easily. She will love me in no time,” he smirks, shaking his head.

“Then, shall we begin?”

She moves to the center of the clearing, where a cauldron stands. She pricks her finger and lets a drop fall into the swirling liquid.

“Well? Come closer and stick your tongue out.”

Rafayel, a bit hesitant, leans over the cauldron and looks inside. The blood-dyed solution reflects his face, and as he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, he closes his eyes so he won’t have to see the damage being done.

A sharp sting rips the muscle out. He recoils, closing his mouth and using his hands to cover it. Blood fills the cavity and slips out through his lips, rising in plumes as it dissolves in the water. The Witch laughs.

He opens his eyes in time to see her pocketing his tongue and starting to throw more ingredients in, the liquid bubbling and smoking.

Then, it subsides. What’s left is a strangely transparent concoction that she scoops up into a vial. She extends it towards him.

Still nauseous due to the injury, he takes it with shaky hands.

“Now go. Quickly. Swim up to the shore and drink every last drop,” she ushers him.

Ignoring his pain-induced blurry vision, he does as she says, clutching the vial to his chest.

He doesn’t let himself think about his family, or everything that he’s leaving behind, as he swims eastward to the Princess’s castle.

A pleasant ache rises in his stomach with each moment that he gets closer, he can’t believe he’s finally going to meet the Princess. The one he loves. Yes, love. He’s certain about that now.

The castle comes into view as the sun starts to rise. He crawls out of the water and lays in the sand, opening the vial and swallowing its contents. For a moment, he’s grateful he doesn’t have a tongue so he doesn’t have to taste it, its smell already pungent enough.

As the last drop goes down his throat, he feels a pain worse than having his tongue cut. His tail being sliced in two, no, butchered in two. He can’t help the scream that comes out of his lungs.

The pain is so unbearable that ultimately he faints.

When he wakes, a figure is kneeling by his side, gently sweeping his hair out of his eyes. The Princess.

He turns red, looking around. He wants to say so many things, do so many things.

The first thing he notices is the fabric that now rests on top of him. Him. His legs. That’s the second thing he notices. He has legs! And he’s… Naked. The Princess must have covered him while he was unconscious.

“Who are you?” The Princess asks, tilting her head in curiosity.

Rafayel opens his mouth only to close it. He can’t speak. He points to himself, then to the Princess. Not looking her in the eyes, of course, he’s too embarrassed for that.

“You… Are me?” She giggles. “Let me guess… You can’t speak?”

He nods, clutching the fabric, which he now realizes is a long coat, and brings it closer around him.

“Do you have a family? Anyone that can help you?”

He looks to the sea for a moment, then shakes his head.

“Hmm… Okay, come to the palace with me. We’ll sort things out there. Can you walk?” She stands up, offering her hand to help him up.

Taking her hand, he manages to prop himself on his two legs. They wobble a bit, but that’s the least of his concerns, needles, pricks and knives digging into the soles of his feet.

The sudden pain, which he forgot would happen, makes him stumble and crash against the Princess. She catches him by the shoulders, which only manages to embarrass him further, his face now so close to the Princess’s.

“You just woke up after being unconscious, your legs are probably not fully recovered yet. Here, lean on me while we walk.” She extends her arm.

He takes it, his attention fully focused on the places his hand touches hers.

They walk into the castle, and the King and Queen welcome him warmly, feeling sorry for his situation.

He gets dressed in the finest clothes while a room is arranged for him. Every person he encounters is instantly charmed by his good looks and silent grace, just like the Sea Witch said.

He spends his time alongside the Royal family, his gaze never straying far from the Princess.

The first day he wakes up in the castle, he’s invited to an event that will take place that afternoon: A suitor from a far land is visiting, intending to win the Princess’s heart and marry her. Hearing the news, he dresses in the best clothing at his disposal and marches with his head high into the throne room. The Royal family lets him stand next to the Princess, who’s sitting expectantly with her hands on her lap. She gives him a smile before looking forward.

The doors open and the Prince and his servants march forward. Rafayel rolls his eyes.

After the formal introductions by both Royals, Rafayel learns that it is custom of this kingdom for the Princess to dance with any suitors she might have, to his horror. 

He watches as the Princess dances with the Prince, a fond smile on her face as she glides effortlessly in his arms.

If only she knew how much I’ve given up just to be with her, he thinks.

Once the Prince is gone, the Princess speaks quite highly of him and his dancing skills, since she loves to dance.

Rafayel remembers that the witch told him he’d be the best dancer on the surface, and instantly steps towards the Princess, extending his hand.

“Oh? You like to dance as well? Well, now I’m curious!” She takes it.

The pain is unmatched, but so is his grace, the emotion that fills his eyes as he leads her across the ballroom. She is so impressed that she asks him to be his dance partner from now on, to dance with her everyday.

Rafayel chooses to ignore the blinding pain coursing through his legs and agrees, nodding and smiling.

The second day, just as the Princess said, she dances with him.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says as they dance, “that since you have nowhere to go, and you seem to have settled just fine to life in the castle, I could appoint you as my personal servant. I quite enjoy your company.”

His eyes light up at the idea, and he nods enthusiastically.

Cut, burn, tear, scream his feet at the one - two - three waltz rhythm.

He is given a chamber next to the Princess, so he may be near her at all times, as well as clothes that show his new status.

Rafayel can’t believe his luck, he’s sure they’ll get married soon if things continue like this.

That evening, he finds some painting supplies and asks for permission to use them, which is granted as soon as they see his prowess. He insists on making a portrait of the Princess. She is delighted, praising him left and right.

But at night, he paints the sea. He opens his window and captures the waves, the moon reflecting off its surface.

The third day, after dancing, the Princess takes him out horse riding. This gives him relief, since he can enjoy her company without sacrificing his feet.

But a new problem arises, he doesn’t know how to ride a horse.

“Don’t worry,” she says as she sees him confused about what to do, “you can ride with me. Sit behind me and hold on tight.”

He settles carefully behind her, turning red once more as he puts his hands on her waist and feels her warmth against his chest. He can smell her perfume, her hair tickling his neck.

The horse starts moving with her silent command, and soon they are crossing a forest, the low leaves tousling their hair. It’s peaceful, only birdsong filling the atmosphere. He sees flowers. So many. And he can’t help but wonder how they’d look if he used them for his paintings, instead of the algae he used in the past.

He ends up collecting a whole bouquet with the Princess’s help, who’s eager to see how they will look as pigments as well.

This day couldn’t get any better, he thinks.

“I have an idea. There’s a mountain nearby with a wonderful view from its top. Shall we go?”

Rafayel nods without a second thought.

Once they arrive at the mountain trail, she gets off the horse.

“The path is narrow and rocky in some parts, so we have to go on foot. But don’t worry, it’s a short hike.”

Of course it is, why did I agree so fast…

So they walk, having tied the horse to a nearby tree, they make their way up. And though it may be short, Rafayel’s feet don’t let up. For all he knows, they could be bleeding.

A small relief is the fact that the view is indeed wonderful when they arrive.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She smiles, taking in the puffy clouds, the setting sun, the ocean disappearing in the horizon.

He nods, looking at her.

The fourth day, after dancing and strolling through the town, Rafayel leaves the castle once the sun has set to cool his feet on the shore. He sits on the sand and sighs. His feet look fine, but they feel like they’ve been mutilated.

The sea is calm, and he takes a moment to reminisce about his family.

As if his prayers were heard, a head pops out from the water. And another. And a few more. His brothers.

“Rafayel!” They swim closer, disbelief in their eyes as they see his legs.

“What happened? You disappeared! Why do you have…”

He tries to explain, to no avail. He points to the castle, then to himself. After some back and forth between the brothers, they seem to get the gist of it.

They decide to come visit Rafayel every night after this.

The fifth day, as they both sit in the garden, him painting, her reading, enjoying each other’s company, she closes her book and looks at him, her expression unreadable.

He stops painting to look at her too.

“You remind me of someone… A man that saved me not long ago. Have I told you this story?”

He shakes his head, although he knows the story she’s about to tell.

“On my last birthday, which I celebrated on the open sea, there was a terrible storm, and the ship capsized. I thought I’d die, but I awoke on the shore, a man by my side. At that time I knew he was the one who had saved me, brought me back to life. I fell in love immediately, and I think he’s the only man I could ever feel this way about…”

Rafayel suppresses the urge to bang his head against the canvas he’s working on.

“But, like I said, you remind me of him. I know you’re not him, of course, but with each moment that I spend with you, I forget him more, and I find myself wanting to be by your side, instead of his. In any case, I could never be with him, for he is a holy man and belongs to the temple.”

The urge goes away, now replaced by butterflies in his stomach.

This is perfect, he thinks, she’s growing to love me, I’ll marry her in no time.

Filled with joy, he leans forward to embrace her. She laughs, hugging him back and kissing his cheek, after which she returns to her reading.

He’s blushing, his heart beating out of his chest, his eyes sparkling. True happiness is near.

The sixth day, the King and Queen receive news of a suitor that will be visiting later that day. Both the Princess and Rafayel are annoyed by this visit.

“I’m forced to welcome him, but I won’t marry him,” she confides in Rafayel that morning. “If I had to choose someone to marry, I’d choose you.”

He smiles, his expression turning to surprise and then embarrassment as she leans forward and kisses him on the lips. One of her hands runs through his hair, while the other lays on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He returns the kiss timidly, his hands cupping her face. In that moment, he truly feels as if all the sacrifices he made were worth it.

The time of the visit draws near, and the Royal family gets ready to welcome the suitor. While they wait, a servant comments: “I heard the visiting Prince has been studying abroad in a temple in our kingdom, to learn how to be a virtuous ruler.”

This catches the attention of both the Princess and Rafayel.

It’s then that the doors of the castle fly open, revealing the Prince and his entourage.

“It’s him,” the Princess whispers, breathless.

She stands up and walks towards him, surprising everyone in the room.

“It was you who saved me.”

The Prince smiles and nods. She embraces him, his arms wrapping softly around her. Then she turns towards Rafayel.

“Isn’t this wonderful? I’m so happy!” She takes Rafayel’s hands. “My wishes came true…  I hope your wishes come true too, my dearest friend.” She smiles sincerely.

He returns the smile, his eyes looking right through her.

The seventh day, they are to be married. Both kingdoms want to ally as soon as possible, and seeing the love the Prince and Princess have for each other, they decide not to delay it further.

Rafayel already feels his heart breaking. He will turn into seafoam come tomorrow morning.

The whole city celebrates, music and cheer in every corner. There’s decorations, and food, and the smell of flowers permeating the air.

The ceremony takes place in the biggest ship the kingdom owns, citizens and Royalty alike invited. They both say their vows, having only eyes for each other.

Rafayel doesn’t even register the words being said. He thinks about the fact that this is his last day alive. How he lost everything. His family, his body, his home, his voice, his love. His life.

Fireworks go off as the ceremony comes to a close, reminding him of that first night he met the Princess. What a blissful dream that first sight of her had been.

He joins the rest of the dancing crowd. He doesn’t care about the pain anymore. It’s his last day, he might as well go all out. His last day seeing the Princess, the sea, the starry sky he once thought he would never witness.

He sees the happy couple, chatting and laughing in each other’s embrace.

The celebrations continue until midnight, when the couple retires for the night and the rest of the guests go to their respective rooms below the deck.

Rafayel stays behind, leaning against the railing and watching the waves, the sea breeze almost a comforting balm.

There, amongst the waves, his brothers appear. As they peek out of the water, he notices their hair has been cut.

“We visited the Sea Witch,” they explain with low voices, “Word reached that the Princess was to be married, but not to you, so we asked her for a solution so that you won’t die. She asked for our hair as payment.”

Rafayel listens with hope. Things might not turn out so bad, after all. Even if he doesn’t have the Princess by his side, at least he’ll return with his family.

“Here, take his knife.”

He does, looking at it with confusion.

“You must plunge it into the Princess’s heart before sunrise, and when the blood falls on your legs, they’ll turn once more into a tail, allowing you to return to the sea. You won’t turn into sea foam, brother!” They all smile.

But he stares at the knife with empty eyes, unsure.

He nods and makes his way to the Princess’s chambers. Everything is quiet as he turns the knob and enters.

Step by painful step, he approaches the bed. They are both asleep, her head resting on his chest. He moves to her side and carefully peels back the covers.

Through the window, he sees the sky turning rosy, a sign that dawn is near. He makes haste and leans to kiss her forehead for one last time, like he once did when she was unconscious on the shore, wishing for her to live, only to pull back as he hears her whisper the Prince’s name in dreams.

His hands tremble as he grips the knife. He, who had lost so much, who loves her so much.

He can’t do it. He throws the knife out of the window. The water turns red as it lands.

Rafayel looks at the Princess once more, his mind and heart broken, yet filled with only her. Her. Her.

He sees the first rays of daylight as he jumps off the window.

By the time his body makes contact with the sea, he’s turned into pure sea foam.

A/N: It felt right to post this on Raf's birthday, hehe. To be honest, I'm not entirely satisfied with the way this turned out, although that might be my perfectionism. However, I do encourage any writers reading this to try to write this in their style! Thank you for reading and I will see y'all in therapy <3

Bonus: A song and a meme.

[gbrllmdsn]

[gbrllmdsn]

— WAIT FOR ME / I'M STILL SOMEWHERE ;

( you're getting older without me and i'm getting scared ) ; in which rafayel still hopes that there's a life where this works — where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.

cw: not beta read; spoilers for abysswalker rafayel's "sea of golden sand" myth, "fragrant dreams" card, "siren's song" anecdote, & main story ch. 7; angst ; some fluff ; mentions of blood, injury & death ; theories + headcanons about mc & rafayel's past lives ; kinda pretentious rafayel lore analysis ( can't help it, i just love him a lot! )

"RAFAYEL, do you think we're lovers in every universe?"

in the stillness of the night, as he mindlessly draws designs on your skin with his thumb, rafayel lies through his teeth: "yeah. i'm sure we are."

it's all he can manage. how do you tell your lover—your dear, sweet muse, whose presence makes the sea of your heart ebb and swell—that you've wondered the same thing lifetimes ago, and know the answer with bittersweet certainty? you continue talking about an article you read, in the morning—something about "consciousness energy fluctuations" and "that feeling of deja vu" and "soulmates."

and rafayel wonders, humming along to your rambling, if that's what you two are: soulmates.

"i wonder what we're like." you sigh, burrowing your head into the warmth of his chest. surely you can hear the rapid thrumming of his heart—he can't help it, the organ so helplessly weak in your presence. "you're the most creative man i know; got any ideas?"

"i think," rafayel starts, runs his fingers through your hair, "there's a life where i'm a merman, you're the human i've fallen deeply in love with, and the barrier between the waves and the shoreline is all that's stopping us."

rafayel remembers being younger, lifetimes ago. he remembers swimming upstream, through a little river that becomes a smaller creek, settling by your quaint home. he remembers playing you a song on his flute, an elegy for lemuria that became your song. he still remembers your head peeking out from the window and the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen staring down at him. you were like sunflecks dancing upon the water's surface—dazzling—and he, denizen of the deep dark sea, couldn't help but fall in love. he gave you his heart, his blood, his voice.

"hmm... reminds me of an old fairy tale." you press a kiss to the beauty mark on his chest, your lips curving into a smile against his skin. right above where his heart is, where the proof of your pact would shine bright. "do you think you'd have gotten a pair of legs and we'd live happily ever after on land?"

"of course i would've." rafayel smiles.

(he does not think about the way his voice grew hoarse as he sung lemuria's elegy. he does not think about the dagger he'd clutched so tightly in his hidden hand, as you approached him on the shore. he does not think about the hug, the warmth of your body making his resolve flutter. the warm blood on his hands, in the water, seeping from the heart he once loved and now carved out and cradled. he does not think about returning to a ruined lemuria, everything he's ever loved ripped away from him in a night.)

"then i like that one. what about another? knowing how we quarrel, do you think we were royalty hailing from opposing kingdoms?"

"hmm, close. i'd say that i'm an assassin, sneaking into your lovely highness's bedroom window."

"hah! i can see that." his heart flutters when he hears you giggle. rafayel wishes he could trap that beautiful sound inside a conch shell, it almost seemed possible, the way it felt like molten gold—sunlight. "i'd leave the windows open just so you'd have an easier time coming in."

"glad to know you'd still fall for my charms." he finds it in himself to smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "even if it might not be the brightest idea, dummy."

"hmph, but if we still loved each other then, you wouldn't kill me." your hand reaches upwards to cup his cheek, a thumb aimlessly stroking comforting lines across his skin. his breath hitches at how naturally it comes to you. "you'd fall for my charms too."

(why wouldn't it? you've done it so many times before, as you—dear highness of philos—gingerly removed his mask. he, who was destined to carve out your heart; and he, who could not bear to do so, who fell apart in the warmth of your hold. any hatred he'd held in his heart for the humans that desecrated his home —beautiful, sacred lemuria— dissolved with each ripple of the lake you both had danced across on that silent night. how could he ever hurt his beloved, who in another life he'd devoted entire oceans to?)

"yeah." he breathes out, almost a chuckle. "yeah, i guess i would, your highness."

"rafa?" you murmur, words slurred with the call of sleep, ushered in by him running a hand through your hair. "i really hope that we're soulmates even if it's in the silliest lives you could ever think up. do you?"

(and he hopes for more, a case study in greed. he hopes for the most blissful lives with you—where he's the receding sea and you are the sands of the shore, or you are an anemone polyp and he is the rock you've decided to settle upon, or he is the deepsea fish that looks longingly upon the warmth of the sunflecks that dance upon the water. he hopes there's a life where this whole thing works: where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.)

and rafayel smiles, presses the umpteenth kiss tonight to your forehead, watches you draw closer into his hold. and then he whispers his little wish against your skin, as soft as a siren singing lullabies to a sailor:

"yeah. i hope so too."

a/n: on this lovely valentine's day i offer the rafa stans: angst 🤩 the ending was a bit rushed because i... was no longer in an angsty mood. this fic is very much so a product of a time where i knew less of rafa's lore (see: did not finish the myth) so there may be some lore inaccuracies ... please do listen to berenstein by the band camino!!! l&ds' plot feels like an amalgamation of some of my favourite songs (berenstein, heartbeat by bts, isohel by EDEN)... and it's just such a good plot so far. please send me rafa lore stuff/general thoughts bc i'd love to try and play around with some of them (i have an idea for his birthday fic already) ,,, i'd love and appreciate you immensely ♡

[gbrllmdsn]

"We were just getting to the good part.." // rafayel x f!reader

cw // unprotected seggs, face riding, continuation of part 1

special mention to @duckydinglers here's your part two😆

You were woken up by your sleep when you heard your door on your bedroom slowly opening, while sitting up you brought your hand to your eyes and softly rubs it before slowly opening them

"Rafayel?"

His name slip out from your lips and you heard a quite hum as he sat down on your bed.

"You can continue sleeping. I'll just go prepare the foods I brought with me."

"Mhm... but you seem to have forgotten something?"

You said and he looks at you with a mischievous grin on his lips. His hand immediately rested on your cheeks and you rup your face on his warm palm

"It's usually me who does this. Oh well, you look cute anyways."

His thumb rubs your lower lip and softly tugs on it as he leans in and gave you a sweet passionate kiss. Your hands immediately fiding their rightful place on behind his neck, and he pulled you closer to him by pulling you on your waist. His other free hand making it's way up to your dress, your breath beginning to quicken

"I remember... you aren't wearing anything.."

You let out a moan when his hand squeeze your ass, his lips trails down towards your neck as he leave marks. Your hands tangled on to his hair

"Sit on my lap"

You did what he told you and his arms immediately wrap around your waist as he began kissing you fervently. Feeling yourself getting turn on again, you began to rub yourself on him and that earn you a groan from him.

"You were so lewd during our call.. I actually..."

"What is it?"

He trails off from his word and looks away from you. You place both of your palms on his face and guided his gaze back to you

You ask softly and his gaze goes from your eyes, lips then to your eyes again.

"I... I wanna taste you..."

His ears and cheeks are almost the same shade of red and you can't help but laugh softly before giving him a quick kiss on the lips on which he chase your lips when you move away

"Okay... take me 'Yel.."

His breath hitch as he manhandles you on the bed. You lay on your back as he spread your legs he felt himself shiver at the sight of your wet cunt. His adams apple bobbing up and down as his trembling fingers reach for your wetness and swipe it up, his eyes observing your reactions.

"H-Hurry..."

"I want to paint you naked.."

He whispers before laying on the center of your parted legs, his face dangerously close to your wet cunt. He inhales your scent and he swears he felt his cock throg. He began kissing your thighs, leaving marks on there too. Your breath began to quicken as you look at him through hooded eyes.

His gaze lifts up and meet yours as he let his tongue roll out from his mouth and slowly began to lap at your juices. Your legs threaten to close but he let out a growl and grip on your thighs tightly and fully close the gap from his mouth and to your pussy.

"Rafayel!"

You scream his name and your body began to tremble at how intense his eating you out. Tongue inside you as he curls it and thrust it in and out. Your hand flew to your mouth trying to drown your moans but he slap your thighs making you jolt, you look down again and his glaring at you. As if his saying that you shouldn't stop yourself on moaning.

"Let me *kiss* hear it *kiss*"

He gave your clit few kisses before taking all of you inside his mouth, your feet grip on the sheets when his tongue began to flick on your clit. Chanting his name, you couldn't help but hold on to his hair and began to grind your cunt on his face.

Rafayel loves how you began riding him but he wants more. He wants to fully see how you tremble. Moving away from you, he was met by your confuse look but he only chuckles as he move up and lay on your side.

He didn't let you finish and began kissing you, hard, you tasted yourself on his kiss. His fingers drawing circles on your clit as he lay on his back. He broke the kiss and look at you intently

"Rafa-"

"Sit on me."

"What are you...

"Sit on my face, baby."

You blush madly on what he said that you moved slowly, Rafayel rolled his eyes and tug on your wrist kissing it

"Hurry. I don't like waiting."

You bit your lower lip and began to lower yourself towards his face, once your cunt is just right above his mouth, he pulled you down and you let out a gut wretching moan. His hand rest on top of your thighs as he ravage your pussy with his mouth.

You held on to your headboard and began grinding once again, his hands traveled up to your waist and starts to caress it. You can't help it but close your legs with his in between when he keeps on giving you few slaps on your ass.

He suck all your juices, lick the juices that trickles on the side. You were eventually a crying mess above him, your gaze met his and begging for him to just let you cum.

"Don't cum yet."

"I c-can't- please!"

"You're so cute when you beg but too bad I won't let you.."

You threw your head back when he slid two fingers inside you and thrust it fast, his tongue on your clit. You can feel all your strength leaving your body. Your whole body fell on the bed but he quickly moves and raise your waist up, your legs on his shoulders as he lap on your pussy.

"Fuck... you taste so good..."

"N-No more! Rafayel!"

You grip hard on your hair as your body began to shake and he can feel already that you're going to cum soon. He curse through his breath and put you down as he frantically unbuckle his belt and push his pants together with his undergarment down and pulled you close to him by your ankles.

He slam his way inside you and you broke into sobs as he began to fuck you hard. His teeth grazing your neck as his cock fucks you with no mercy.

"Oh god!! Too much... s'too much Yel!"

"I love you, I love you.."

Your legs wrap around his waist, hands around his neck. He captured your lips again and kisses you sloppily. You can hear your bed creaking but your too fuck to care. He moans your name so passionately that you ended up clenching him inside.

"Fuuuuuuck~ you like it huh? Like it when I moan your name against your ear.."

"Shut up. Just give it to me... fill me up.."

He snickered and press your legs towards your chest, he smirk seeing your fuck out face. He began to thrust faster and harder, that when he felt you clench again he curse loudly and spilled his cum inside you. Which you followed, he thrust slowly riding you both from your high.

"Go to sleep. We still have a long day tomorrow."

When done he slowly pull his cock out, your legs plopping down on the bed as he lay on your side and pulled you close towards him. You snuggled closer to him as he pulls your one hand softly and let it rest on his cheeks. He kiss the crown of your head before softly humming.

[gbrllmdsn]

DAMNATION

A legend foretold that the princess' heart is the only way to save his people. What happens when he refuses to take her heart when he had foolishly fell in love with her? But, what if she wanted to give his people the life that they deserved? Warnings: Angst, No Comfort, Death of Character, Blood and Gore, you might let out a tear or two, there could be an alternate ending in a parallel universe. Slight Spoiler for Rafayel's lore.

"Rafayel, please, please, please let me help your people." She sniffled, eyes and nose a hue of red as she held onto the sleeves of the God of the Sea. They had been at this argument for days, and time is not exactly in Rafayel's favour. His people are dying, and her heart, is the only thing that could save his kind from extinction.

It has to be out of her own will, they said. And here he is, watching y/n with his eyes that had taken up a shade of dark purple. The lack of lighting within her chambers had given him a good camouflage for his frown. He got her, to surrender her heart by her own will. But, Rafayel could not do it.

His right hand reached up to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks and he spoke softly, as if to conjure up whatever willpower he had left within his system to convince her to stop talking about this. "My love, you know I could not bear to lose you. I know my people may be in pain and suffrage, but I also know that you deserve the world. With me."

"BUT I ALREADY SAID I CAN!" Y/n shouted, the grabbed the candle holder by her bedside table and threw it across the room, her tears are now flowing like streams down her cheeks. Rafayel held her as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing and curling into a ball. Her voice a hushed whisper as she spoke. "How is living here any better than being dead? I am constantly locked in my tower, I had only ever been out whenever you are around and I just can't find myself to live like this anymore."

Her sigh ached Rafayel's heart, it hurts him deeply to watch her cry and to watch her make such a decision for him, for his people. He was caught up in between, eyes wandering across her dark room as the last source of lighting was put out. The moonlight however, casted a silvery-bluish sheen into the room, making the overall room more gloomy than it already is.

Rafayel took in a deep breath, muttering something about 'there must be another way to this', and he used his long index finger to lift up her chin, so her eyes meet his. "My love, I want you to stay put right here. I will be back by dawn tomorrow and we shall make a final decision on this. Please, heed my advice and just stay here alright? I will be back for you, as always my quintessence."

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her cheek and lastly on her lips. Just like how he would always comfort her. Pulling back, he noticed the way her eyes struggled to open and with that, he slowly laid her back onto her bed, and tucked her in. She must be exhausted from the amount of crying she had for the night. Smoothing his hand over her silky brown hair, he presented a sad smile, eyes wavering while he looked at her for one last time for the night.

He had to make a choice, either it would be to sacrifice her or to sacrifice his people. Both bringing an equally heavy burden to his heart and soul. Call him a god, they said. But he is no longer one as he harbored such selfish thoughts to his own desire. Putting on his mask, he got off of the bed, stood at the window and then plunge down into the waters below.

...

It has been a few hours, and y/n rose from her bed, still groggy from her sleep. She looked out of her window to find her windows were widely opened, the moon shining brightly and she wondered to herself when did Rafayel left. It should be a couple of hours ago as the last thing she recalled was his lips on her face. And she recalled meeting him right after dinner time ended.

A whistling tune was heard from outside of her window, a tune so melodic that she was enchanted to approach her window sill. Her hands glided over the smooth stone slab and she peeked her head out before she was met with a boy in the waters below her towers. The scales on his body signified that he is a Lemurian, just like Rafayel.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n panicked, eyes darting all over her surroundings to scan for any witnesses around. You see, if Lemurians were caught, they would be pawned off to the wealthy, as it showcases the sign of one's wealth. And that was how Rafayel met y/n. But y/n knew that possessing a Lemurian would not grant her a new status nor the freedom she had longed for, hence, she freed him after they had promised to find each other again in the future.

"My name is Arvia---" Before he could even finish, he coughed, desperately holding onto his chest as he heaved for his breath. "I came to---" Another cough, one of his hand sprung out from the water to close his mouth, to silence his coughs as he did not want to draw any unwanted attention. As he withdrew his hand, y/n gasped. Crimson stain on his pale white hands, people on land may have identify it as lung infection, but she knew that Lemurians are leaning towards the grim reaper's will.

"Please, please my quintessence, I know My Highness would not let us near you." Blood trickled down the sides of his lips as he spoke. "But I plead you, as my mother has been in suffrage for the past few days, she could not speak anymore, let alone sing. All of my siblings are met with ill coughs, just like mine, carrying crimson taints. I beg of you, shall you have the means to save Lemuria, please meet us at the sea stacks as dawn strikes."

Another cough comes at the end of his sentence and she watched as he harshly pounded his chest, as if doing that would ease his cough better. "I'll be there!" Y/n responded without hesitation and her determined eyes were met with Arvia's aquamarine ones. The young merman wiped the blood off of his lips and he nodded his head before he dived back into the water, a hint of his tail peeking out as he swam back into the deep waters.

Y/n rushed back into her room and opened her wooden wardrobe, eyeing the gowns that she owns and picking one out that is made of the thinnest material possible. She wanted her movements to be stealthy and languid, hence the thin material would come to be more useful than a heavier drape. She changed into the white gown, and grabbed her fur coat to drape it over her small stature. Glancing at herself for the last time in the mirror situated next to her wardrobe, she felt a pang of sadness coarsing through her body.

She has chosen her own journey, she has decided on her own death. But it was all for the better right? One small sacrifice for the greater good. Staring at her own reflection, she realised her tears had streamed down her face. Why is she crying? She had no idea. But perhaps it has something to do with the ending of her life. No matter how convinced she is of her death being a greater sacrifice, she could never forgive herself for going against her lover's will.

She wiped off her tears and huffed. "This is it. My death shall come with a greater meaning. Rafayel would understand eventually." Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the rope Rafayel had made for her and she tossed it out of the window to climb down from her tower.

...

Perhaps the gown was not the best idea. Strong winds and thin gowns are not exactly complimentary to one another. Her fur coat however, ended mid waist so the length below her waist was bare to the wind's torture. It took her quite a while to arrive to the location that was appointed by the merman.

The huge rock sat in the middle of the sea, unwavering as the waves crashed against it. The sky was dark but along the silhouttes, there was hints of an orangy-yellow shade, a sign that dawn is approaching. Y/n took off her footwear and laid them onto the sand, and she took off her coat to lay it next to her footwear. The wind batted against her whole body even more harshly, making her shiver and tremble as she made her way into the waters.

As the sun started to rise even more, she noticed a few heads emerged from the further ends of the vast ocean, as if watching her as she made her way towards the rock. Arvia then bobbed his head out of the waters and he spoke. "You came, my quintessence. Come, take your seat on the rock." He looked ghastly, eyes sunken in and scales fading of its usual bright colours. He held out his hand and guided y/n up towards the rock.

Another merman surfaced from the depths of the ocean and y/n recognised this merman. He was always stuck to Rafayel's hip when she met Rafayel for the first couple of times. She never got to know of his name but she assumed that he plays an important role in guiding and supervising Rafayel's actions. "I believe we had met for a few times, when I was on land with My Highness. My name is Amund and I was summoned by my people to perform the sacrificial ritual on you."

His eyes glinted a sheen of red as he spoke to her. Was this the guy that Rafayel had warned her about? 'My people are of gentle nature, but I am afraid one shall lead them all towards perdition.' Rafayel's voice rung in her head. "Do you, my quintessence, know the risk of such sacrificial ritual?" Amund questioned her, eyes raking over her body in an uncomfortable manner.

"I will be able to save Lemuria right?" She responded, eyes filled with hope. "Will I?" She second guessed herself and Amund said nothing but nodded. He raised his hand to beckon to his fellow Lemurians and some of them started approaching her. "Wait, what is happening?"

"As long as my quintessence is at will to give us the God of Sea's heart, we will ensure that the sacrificial ritual is done with the utmost care and respect you deserve." A dagger appeared in Amund's hand. Silver dagger with red crystals adorning it's hilt, it definitely does look like a ceremonial dagger.

"Are you going to drown me first? Rafayel told me that as long as I am willing to give out my heart, then I could be drowned prior to the ceremony. Is it not?" She remembered Rafayel told her some details about how the ceremony takes place but given she was not drowned yet, she was curious if there was a different course of ceremonial action. "My quintessence, as I mentioned earlier, you deserve the utmost care and respect for your sacrifice for the people of Lemuria." He held up the dagger and gave a look towards the other mermans that were surrounding her. "Make sure she stays still throughout the ceremony." The mermans then grabbed her arms and legs and they stretched her limply across the rock. Y/n however, knew that she could not back up anymore at this point.

But, what she did not know was that this so-called ceremony was nothing more than a mere revenge to be taken upon Rafayel. The god who chose to leave his people to pursue his love with a mere mundane. Amund, does not approve of this relationship and neither does he want that to ever happen again. He wants to watch Rafayel suffer like how his people did.

"Stay still my quintessence, this would hurt." Without another word, Amund stabbed the dagger into her collarbone and y/n screamed in pain, tears started flowing from her face but she could not move as she was held down tightly. The pain did not stopped as the dagger dragged from her collarbone to the sides of her breasts. Her screams never falter just like her blood that never stopped flowing, staining the rock and eventually dripped into the ocean.

...

Rafayel had returned to her chambers but she was nowhere to be found. "Y/N? Y/N?" He called out to her name quietly as he walked towards her bed. Flipping the sheets, he was only met with the sight of her pillow stacked together to form a silhouette of her. He turned around and noticed the wardrobe that was sprung open, and her satin lounging attire tousled into a ball on the hardwood floorings. Confused, he looked over to the window sill and his guesses were right, she had escaped from her tower.

Without hesitation, the God of the Sea jumped out of the window and plunged right into the waters, not even caring if that had caused a huge splash to alert the guards as he had no time left to spare. He had to rescue her.

Earlier on, when Rafayel had left her chambers, he went back to Lemuria to speak with Amund. When he arrived at Armund's door, Arvia came out of the house, eyes widened when he was face-to-face with the lilac-haired God. "Your highness." Arvia half bowed and went along his way. Swimming past Rafayel and off into the weeds that were littered around the towns of Lemuria.

"What was Amund doing here?" Rafayel asked as he closed the door to Amund's abode and finally meeting Amund's eye.

"His family was in dire need of some pearl essence. His mother's throat was ruined and his siblings are all ridden with coughs that drains their blood." Amund responded as he placed vials and bottles of medicine back onto the shelves. The clinking and clanking of the vials and bottles are the only sounds filling the silence before he continued. "Your Highness, you cannot delay any further. Our people are dying. And they desperately need the heart."

"Amund, listen." Rafayel spoke in a stern tone, hands running through his lilac strands as he looked frustrated. "I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't." The vial containing the pearl essence floated out of Amund's grasp and he looked at Rafayel with widened eyes. There comes the shouting, "You would rather watch Lemuria wilt just to save a woman that you have feelings for?! How dare you say that?! What do you think the people of Lemuria would have thought, that their one and only hope has decided to betray them all for the sake of a mere mortal?!"

Rafayel winced at Amund's booming voice, although he looked saddened with the situation at hand, his voice maintained the same as his posture, still and calm. "There shall be another way to change fate. I will do whatever I can to save my people but without the cost of losing my beloved bride. The decision is final." He turned to leave but stopped, whipped his head back and he warned. "Anyone who acted against my orders shall die upon my hand."

...

The waves batted against the shores, feigning a scene where the water desperately wants to come onto the shore. Just like how the mermans once dreamed of wanting to walk on land and having to dive back into the waters based on their own will. But they were bound, bound to the waters as coming onto land would not impose any leverage for them.

Rafayel ran across the beach, eyes searching every inch of land and water to find his beloved. The sun is rising and the pastel skies no longer gave Rafayel a sense of comfort but it added onto his paranoia, assumptions of the worst case scenario constantly teasing their way into his mind.

His heart suddenly hurt like someone had shot him with a canon ball and he fell in his steps, clutching onto his chest as he struggled to breathe. Not long after when he regained his breath, something felt different in him. Something felt like a--- a beating heart. Rafayel gasped at the feeling as it further confirmed his nightmare.

He ran as fast as his mundane legs could carry him down the shore and passing a cliff, he witnessed a figure, sprawled out on a rock limply, and he screamed. "Y/N!"

He trudged the waters and climbed up the rock, not even caring that the barnacles had sliced off pieces of his sole. He did not care at all as the scene in front of him would trigger bloodshed afterwards. Y/n laid on the rock, eyes closed, but blood trailed from her eyes, nostrils, and ears, staining her once beautiful white dress into a bright crimson red. Her chest bared a gaping hole exactly where the heart was supposed to be situated.

Rafayel reached out his shaky hands to touch her cheeks and in that moment, he got a brief flashback of her last moments. Her screams echoed through his mind, but none of her screams mouthed the word 'STOP'. Amund was there, alongside with a couple of other mermans that were holding her down. Amund was slicing into her skin, carelessly opening up a big hole on the left side of her chest just to retrieve the heart from her.

Rafayel's tears streamed when the flashback showed y/n stopped screaming and twitching when Amund grabbed the heart out of her body, holding it high up in the air as if it was some trophy earned. And just like that, the flashback ended and Rafayel was snapped back into reality, with her body laid right in his arms. He whimpered, but no sounds were emitted from his throat, his cries were silenced by the throbbing pain within his heart.

Watching her pale and faceless expression, Rafayel held her face close to his neck, getting his body stained with her blood like how he would always get paint stained on his clothes whenever he was painting portraits of her. But this time, he did not want the stain to be washed off. He did not want it to fade either, as it would remind him of the pain his own people had brought upon him.

"Why?" He asked the air, as you would no longer be the one to reply to him. "Why would they do this to you?" His voice a hushed whisper as the ocean started to rage. "Why couldn't they at least make it painless for you?" He was referring to the drowning that should have taken place prior to the ceremony of removing her heart. It would have hurt way lesser than this, it would have been more comforting, it would have lessen the bloodshed that would be committed by Rafayel.

"I will always, always wait for you my love. No matter how long it takes." He stood up, with her still in his arms, and he looked out into the horizon, staring into the waves that would soon remind his people of his identity of being the God of the Sea. The dark clouds started to close in, accompanied with lightning strikes that fears the men at seas. Rafayel held her lifeless body, clinging onto whatever warmth that was left from her body before he mustered up the courage to say this. His eyes turned from the usual blueish-purplish shade to a dark set of purple pupils. "I shall bring damnation to my people as how they had brought damnation to me."

And there you go my darlings, I wanna watch that tear drop :)

I think I will come out with an alternate not-so-angsty ending if i feel like it sometime in the near future. Lemme know what you guys think hehe <3. If any of you fancy for any requests of similar calliber or even new ideas, drop me a dm :>

[gbrllmdsn]

୨୧ zayne decides to take matters into his own hands when he notices you've been neglecting your health lately

✧･ﾟboyfriend!zayne, fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of food, reader neglects her health, reader calls zayne 'sir' once, spanking, soft dom!zayne -> lifestyle dom!zayne, light Dom/sub elements, swearing, unprotected s[e]x, petnames (my aurora, my darling), thigh humping, size kink

✧･ﾟthought about lifestyle doms from an anon's ask and suddenly this idea came to me about zayne doubling down on making sure you're taking care of your health ugh i need this man biblically

The life of a Hunter is anything but easy, and Zayne knows that well.

However, he can't help the feelings that surface every time he sees you coming back home, tired and even more worn down than when you had given him a goodbye kiss this morning.

And this isn't the first time, either.

He notices—he always does. It's in his very nature to be trained to catch even the slightest deviation of the norm; a blip in your composure, your routine.

Nowadays, you were sleeping for 4 hours max, pushing your body everyday at work until bruises litter your limbs; skipping meals to hand in Jenna's reports before the stipulated deadline, barely finishing up your 500ml water bottle he so diligently helps to fill up every morning...

... and all of it piles onto the guilt he feels when he realizes how little he can do to take care of you.

It festers and festers and festers till he snaps the very second you come back home, exhausted and puckering your lips for his usual welcome back kiss.

"No."

It breaks his heart—truly, it does—to see the hurt shining in your eyes.

Why? You struggle to understand why he's being so cold all of a sudden. From warm snuggles to an icy cold glare—Zayne's mood shift was scaring you. 

Instead of answering, he goes into the kitchen and reappears a second later, holding a cup of water.

"Drink this all up and then I'll kiss you." 

His tone is deadpan, sharp green eyes never losing their sternness. 

To add insult to the injury, he scoffs, "Your breath probably smells after a whole day of not drinking water. The bacteria on your tongue alone could kill off a mouse." 

You gape, affronted. "Hey! Don’t be mean—" 

"Drink. Up." He leaves no room for you to argue; to huff your disbelief. Deciding to not be too difficult, especially when you've already had a hard day at work, you gulp down the water dutifully; a little too quickly until you choke and he pats your back. 

Once your coughing fit subsides, he tilts your head up, and like the first touch of cool morning dew on skin, his lips meet yours.

"More," you mumble, nails sinking into his soft dark hair, tugging slightly on his roots to voice your need.

Something about your sweet primary care physician boyfriend who's always yielding and gentle—restraining you from indulging in him until you did, as he said—made you throb all over. 

Zayne's minty cool breath fans across your face, his voice smooth as dark chocolate when he whispers, "You need to eat first. I know you haven't had a full meal today." 

Rubbing your nose against his, you whine. "If I do eat, can you kiss me more?" 

In answer, Zayne wraps his arms tightly around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Of course," he mumbles into your skin. "I'll give you so many kisses till you're sick of them."

Never, you thought. You would never get over the feeling of his lips on yours. Or the rough rasp of his palm on your thigh, gently kneading the flesh as you quickly ate the meal he cooked. 

If you thought his spur of tough love would end after tonight, you were sorely mistaken.

Kisses held hostage turn into refusals of even hugging you until you promise to finish your lunch at work. 

You feel Tara's stare burning holes into your side profile, brows crinkled as she looks past her desktop at your antics. 

Today, your phone leans against your monitor, and you were taking huge bites of the noodle dish Zayne prepared the night before.

"Filming a mukbang?" Tara inquires innocently. 

You shake your head, expression sour. "No," you quickly swallow your bite of food, and fix her with a look that speaks volumes. "Zayne." 

"Ah." 

Tara nods. "Dating a doctor isn't easy. I bet he tells you to pay attention to your health all the time, huh? But, you know what they say—an apple a day keeps the doctor away. At least, he'll stay off your case if you take care of yourself." 

Only she could make it sound so easy.

When you were called into the city to investigate a strange flux pattern, you had forgotten to let Zayne know you weren't coming home in time for dinner. 

How were you to know that the very second you stepped foot at home, he was already waiting with a scowl in place? 

"Zayne—" you start when you see him leaning against the kitchen doorframe, expression impassive.

He shushes you, tall and imposing; still in his pristine work suit from today.

"Have you at least had something to eat in the last 6 hours?" 

Remembering the little pact you both made, you nod quickly. "Mhm hmm! All my food is finished—cross my heart." You even remove your container from its insulated bag, shaking it lightly. "See? All empty." 

A shadow of a smile graces his lips. "Good. And how many cups of water did you drink?" 

Immediately, the smile drops from your face. "Uh... one? maybe two. I can't remember..."

The look in his eyes would've made you shrink away, if you couldn't already predict your boyfriend's next words.

"You are highly irresponsible with your own health, my darling." 

You wait for him to nag, but back up when he starts to approach you; the look on his face is unreadable. 

"What do I do with you, Y/N?" he sighs, and before you can react, cages you against the wall. The smell of his cologne—fresh and expensive—invades your nostrils.

Your head spins, all the blood going straight to your toes; your stomach falling when he leans forward, lips right at your ear.

"I guess I have to force you to take your health seriously. How do you think I will do that?" 

Zayne doesn't wait for you to answer. In one swift move, he has you in his arms, using his strength to carry you into the bedroom.

"Zayne," you squeak and gasp when he tosses you onto the bed. 

The mattress dips under his weight, his face inches from yours. Despite the change in his behavior, you tilt your lips up, needy and ready to feel his kisses. 

But, he never gives it to you. 

Instead, his large hands pin your wrists to the headboard, those sharp green eyes peering at you through half-mast lids. 

Zayne licks his lips, and subconsciously, you track the minute movement, biting on your own lower lip. 

The air turns heavier; sweetened with the promise of an unforgettable night. 

You accidentally tick your hips up, catching the front of his slacks. Your eyes widen when you feel an unmistakable bulge digging right into your crotch; Zayne's loss of composure pushing right into the heat of your thighs, demanding for your attention. 

In contrast, his expression doesn't change; an almost bored emerald gaze fixed on your every reaction. 

"You do know what will happen tonight, right?" 

Trying hard not to shiver, you nod. 

"Yes," you mumble, suddenly meek. 

"Yes, what?" 

You swallow, darting your gaze over his shoulder. He grunts, squeezing down on your wrists with enough pressure to make it throb, but not enough to leave a bruise.

"Sir!" You yelp. "Y-yes, Sir." 

One corner of his mouth ticks, and exhales a short huff. "Good. You still have your manners intact, I see."

Leaning up, he unbuttoned his vest. Using one hand to gather your wrists together, the free one was left to tug on his tie; Windsor knot giving way to a strip of his pale skin. 

You eyed the expanse of his neck hungrily; unabashed, even when his lips curl into a sinful smile.

“It seems like someone here has missed me,” Zayne whispers, and you fight back a shiver when he leans in, close enough for his breath to stir the loose locks on your cheeks. 

“I’m… sorry,” was all you could offer him weakly. Zayne’s thin lips curl into a smirk. At this point, you weren’t even sure why he wasn’t fucking you yet—what he was waiting for. “Please…” without a second thought, you clip your hips against his, trying to ease the tension between your thighs. “I need you, Zayne.”

His grunt was low—a warning. “Do you think you deserve it? I can’t keep reminding you to put yourself first, my darling. What if I’m gone? What would you do?” 

Even though it was a hypothetical question, your chest couldn’t help but squeeze at the thought of a Zayne-less life. You would rather feed yourself to a Wanderer than go a day without him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, earnest this time. “I was careless. I should’ve listened to you. I… I’ll try my best to take care of myself.” 

Zayne gives you a look, like he doesn’t believe you for a single second. It has you scrambling your ringing mind to say something else. 

But, before you do, the world tilts, and you’re in his lap. Zayne’s lips were an inch away from yours. You zero in on them. Missing how they would feel gently slotted against your own—when you disregard the hesitation to plant your mouth on his. 

Patiently, like a martyr or a long suffering saint, Zayne lets you kiss him. He doesn’t respond back, at least not like what you expect.

No flames, no passion. It was as good as kissing a stone statue.

There was no yield in his gaze; those flinty green eyes refusing to thaw.

You repress a full body shiver. 

Suddenly, the coolness of the room becomes more pronounced. You feel the chill on your skin, where his long fingers wrap around your fleshy hips spilling past the Hunter-standard pants.

“I should punish you for that.” 

A flurry of movement. Your face meets the downy mattress, mouthful of cotton stoppering your protests. 

Sharp, stinging pain explodes across your ass. The sound of a large palm meeting skin echoes around the room again; your surprised yelp bouncing from wall to wall.

Soothingly, he rubs the ache from your tender globes, and in a voice dripping with sympathy, whispers, “I apologize for having to do this, my Aurora.”

Your back arches, the sudden awareness of your vulnerability penetrating your fuzzy mind. Pinned to the bed, his bigger frame pressing down on yours—you were trapped in the eye of a frigid storm.

“Zayne,” you whine, too aware of how warm his body felt on yours. 

I promise to take care of you, his voice rings in your head. Of memories during summer nights, skin stuck to skin, your head on his chest. I can’t lose you—not to the Wanderers or your own carelessness.

Zayne ceaselessly kept that promise—his devotion unmatched. And you were carelessly throwing it away every single day, right in his face. Denying his care, his treatment.

It all became clear to you in that split second.

He was past waiting for your excuses and apologies; all he wants is to make sure you never forget yourself ever again. 

Zayne props you on his lap once more, leaning back against the headboard.

“I want you to cum—”

It’s embarrassing how quickly you perk up only to be let down when he disclaims his generosity with a contradictory footnote.

“—without my help.”

He rests his head back, the arch of his neck tempting you to plant kisses down the pale stretch of skin; his Adam’s apple bobbing. The silence grows; you feel like you could suffocate from the chill spreading between your two tense bodies.

You shift forward, incredulous. “What the heck do you mean by that?” 

Zayne flickers his gaze to where your crotch snugly fits on top of his thigh. “You’re a smart girl… I’m sure you will figure it out soon.”

You huff, a pout pushing your displeasure right into his face. 

“You’re mean. I already said I was sorry.” 

But, he wasn’t going to budge. If there was one thing Zayne would never compromise on, it was caring for you. Sometimes, it scared you—how utterly serious he took his job as your caretaker in and out of the hospital walls. 

No amount of reasoning could change his mind. It was either you play his game, or walk away with that pit gnawing right at the bottom of your stomach—unfulfilled and gaping.

You lean back. Friction, burning hot, zings up your spine, and suddenly, what he wants you to do clicks in. 

“Oh.” 

You swallow. Outside, rain begins to splatter on the windowpane. The world goes blue and dark, holding its breath in tandem with yours.

Locking your hands on his shoulders, you lean forward. Then, shift back. And do it again and again until you feel the heat burning you up; razing your self control down to ashes as you let out a small, shaky moan. 

“Good girl,” Zayne whispers into the dark of your room. “You’re so pretty like this—getting off on my thigh.” 

You peel your teary eyes onto his softening ones. His jaw clenches, and a vein throbs in his temple. He fights back the urge to thrust up—to meet your sensual grinding. It was a losing battle. Every needy whimper slipping past your wet lips sends a pleasurable jolt to his cock. But, he can’t give in just yet. You had to learn your lesson the hard way. 

There’s an indecent spot of wetness staining his slacks. The dark material of your pants hides your arousal well, but Zayne can practically smell you. 

Sweet musk and a fragrant vanilla. 

His heart thrums wildly, staccato beats that match the constant pulsing of his aching cock. 

I need her so badly. He wants nothing more than to be buried in you; to watch you fall apart under his tender care. 

Every mellifluous whimper dripping from your lax mouth makes him see stars; coated with ecstasy, your eagerness continues to seep into the expensive fabric of his slacks. 

Zayne makes a mental note to get it dry cleaned at his earliest convenience. 

It should’ve annoyed him—this extra chore on his already burdened shoulders. But, he doesn’t care much for the cost of sending his expensive, tailored suits to the best dry cleaners in Linkon City. 

He would let you squirt all over them ten times over if it meant he could bring you to your zenith of pleasure and back. 

Those beautiful emerald eyes never leave yours; devouring every reaction. Studying your shifts and dips. Calculating his next move in his head.

You might’ve thought Zayne was hewn from rock with how quiet he was. 

But, if you would look closer, you would’ve seen how his hands were stuffed into fists right by his side. The shake in his breath when you toss your head back. How he could barely keep his jaw from tightening when you mewl out his name.

I promise to take care of her—no matter what. Caleb and your grandmother were witnesses to his solemn vow. 

He would keep his word. Do everything in his power to keep their precious girl in line—even if she thought it was unfair.

“Zayne, please,” you try to beg again. He only scoffs. 

Mean. He was so, so mean. 

You were aching all over, yearning for it. Needing his touch and attention on your body to drive yourself over the edge. 

Unfortunately for you, his self-control is immaculate. It doesn’t fold nor break. In the operation room, and outside of it, his priority was to maintain a level-headed calm wherever he went. 

But, inwardly, with you on his lap; all pouty, kissable lips and pussy dripping her excitement on his thigh, Zayne finds his famed composure cracking under the weight of your desire.

“Zayne,” you hiccup. “Please. Please. Touch me.”

Large, veiny hands grip your thighs, dragging you close. 

His mouth finally presses on yours, and it feels like a sparked flame striking near a mountain of straw.

He tries to keep his wits—he really does. Reminds himself not to indulge you again; to finally make you see how much he cares for you through this cruel game.

Like a fluctuation cutting through permanent winds that flow steadfastly North, only you had the power to sway his decisions. 

"Zayne," you moan into his mouth.

Then, in an instant, the flame sparks. The mountain of dry yearning goes up.

Every carefully constructed ploy is destroyed. 

Zayne kisses you like his life depended on it. Messy, clacking teeth, spit mixing and running down chins; hot hands grappling any inch of skin available. 

Your clothes were pushed off your body and onto the floor. Zayne’s luxurious vest and button down shirt was almost torn from his body by your eager hands. 

The bare lines of his torso and muscular thighs fit perfectly with yours, his body slotting in between your spread legs. 

Sharp lines bloom down his back, your nails dragging down his skin; his eyes almost rolling back into his head when he sinks into your heat.

“Shit,” he cusses, almost inaudible. The sound of wetness meeting in the darkening room, your moans and his heavy pants fill the air. 

Good girl. Move your hips like that. You’re doing so well for me. I love you. I love you. If you disobey me again, your punishment will be more severe. You’re everything to me, my Aurora. 

“Zayne!” your cry shatters like a bullet unloading from a smoking gun. He almost flinches back when you squeal right in his ear, back tensing and arching like a taut string.

Slipping a hand in between your bodies, he nudges and plays with your clit, drawing your high to an unbearable tension.

He feels your heels digging into his hips, your sweet pussy squeezing down on his length like the world’s most precious love declaration. You bury your face into his neck; feel his pulse fluttering against your lips.

“Inside,” you whimper, as if you could read his mind. “I want you inside, Zayne.”

He grunts, his entire body trembling from the force of the tight band around his lower body. 

Zayne ruts up into you, little more than an animal in heat—the ridges and bumps of your pussy gets him in a higher state of mind, delirious enough to start moaning shamelessly. 

You grip his face, touching your foreheads together. Zayne’s lips find yours, and within that split second you believe something fundamentally true. 

That in every life, every form, every stretch between space and time—you would never forget how his lips feel like on yours. 

A shuddering breath right on your neck. The twitch of his cock nudging right on your sweet, golden spot. 

You tense, toes curling—

—and shatter around his cock gloriously. 

Warmth spreads deep in your body, taking over your toes and fingers. Driving you heady with the taste of him on your tongue. 

Zayne finishes inside you, breathing hard against the shell of your ear. 

The silence is broken by his soft gasp, and you feel the wet pull of his cock out of your puffy pussy. Immediately, he replaces the emptiness with the full circle of his arms around your tired body.

You sigh, sticky and filled with longing, face protected right in the crook of his neck.

“Zayne?” 

“Hmm?” 

He plays with a loose lock of your hair. Not one for many words, Zayne’s actions speak louder and sweeter than any poetry you had ever read.

Rolling you over, he hovers close, lips gently brushing your cheeks, temple and finally, your lips.

“I love you,” your confession spurs something primal and tender in his soul. He kisses you once, twice, to wipe out the dark need to claim you again and again until every fiber of your skin is written with his name.

“I love you, too.” 

He presses one long kiss onto your forehead and chuckles to himself.

"Come on. Follow me to the kitchen. Don't think I forgot about those 8 glasses of water you didn't drink today..."

a/n: if this man wants me to watch for my health, i'll make sure my medical report comes back with an A+

— feedback and reblogs are loved in this house iykyk

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[gbrllmdsn]

ΉΣЯ & ƬΉΣ ƧΣΛ

༊ you ask rafayel how lemurians reproduce, and he can't wait to show you

✯ warnings; rafayel x fem!reader, established relationship, MONSTERFUCKING, switch!rafayel, switch!reader, rafayel's lemurian form, sex underwater, reader is coded to be feminine (wears a dress and lingerie), mentions of alien genitalia, rafayel calls reader 'master' once, petnames (my little conch shell, my queen, baby, my love, miss bodyguard), size kink (reader is obvs smaller than him, he's a goddamn mErmAID), OVIPOSITION, dirty talk, language, breeding, girl on top position, missionary, reader sucks his merman cock (lmao), dubious breathing underwater methods, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, slight spoilers for rafayel's myth if you squint, mild angst

✯ istg i am a zayne girlie but something about rafayel just makes me go feral

"𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒?"

The question stunned Rafayel from taking a bite of his souffle pancakes, his fork pausing from its journey into his now lax mouth. Sunlight continues streaming in past the French windows; the patrons of this cafe going about their day, oblivious to the malfunctioning celebrity artist amongst them.

A glob of whip cream freefalls off the metal tines and onto his plate. Those magnetic pink-blue eyes flash with a multitude of colors—like a sea-worn rock under the brilliant sun. 

However, as fast as your question hit him, he overcame it; no one could say that Mr. Rafayel, the art world's maverick and media-trained connoisseur, was slow in recovering his wits.

His signature teasing smile in place, Rafayel placed his fork back down onto the table.

Across from you, two friends were speaking in low tones and judging from their expression, unpacking their love lives with the sombreness of a priest reciting a divorce rite.

Rafayel blinked, tilting his head to the side. 

"Why would you ask, Miss Bodyguard?" 

He casually slung an arm over the back of his chair, a million dollar smile gleaming and ready. "Or, has something struck your most vivid imagination?" 

Laying it on thick, he couldn't even begin to disguise the gleam of his teeth—shining like the incisors of a great white after smelling fresh blood in the ocean. 

"I never thought you would be so sugges—ouch!"

Rafayel winced, and doubled over, rubbing his shin under the table. "What was that for?" 

You huffed, and fixed him a glare. "Don't embarrass me." 

"I was just joking."

"Wasn't funny." 

"Yeesh. You're really wound up about this, huh?" 

That infuriating smirk was plastered back onto his face; his boyish features making something in your chest squeeze. 

"Shut up and answer the question." 

He pretended to ponder on it for a moment. More color illuminates his stunning amethyst irises. Shining like jewels, only he knew the value of his true thoughts. 

Before you could retract your question and salvage this bright afternoon, Rafayel surprises you with his next words.

"Why don't I show you, my little conch shell?" 

You freeze. Scanning the area, you wondered if this was the right conversation to be having in such a brightly lit area. Granted, you and Rafayel were past the carnal stage —after being together for close to a year, your bodies were well-worn maps that lips and fingers could retrace and discover any time.

Fighting back a laugh, you shake your head.

"Is this another one of your racy propositions again?"

Rafayel merely smirked. "If that is how you wish to see it." 

Seriously now, you counter, "Will I have paint in my hair again?" 

Memories flash in your mind; of a large canvas, soft candlelight, and streaks of paint on the most random parts of your body found weeks after the deed was done. 

Your lover sits back, using one slender finger to cross over his heart. "I promise your hair won't go through such torment anymore." Despite your best efforts, your eyes trail to his broad chest, and the enticing V of his defined pecs.

As if sensing your eyes on him, Rafayel's mirth grows. "Looks like you can't resist much longer, I'll make you a deal—" 

He leaned in close—much too close—and you could smell the vanilla on his breath; the sunlight glinting off those purple irises softening with a look of warmth only he held for you.

"—come with me tonight to Whitesand Bay, and I promise you won't regret it." 

Muggy and balmy in the evening, Whitesand Bay wasn't exactly the ideal meet up spot for Rafayel to finally fulfill his promise and show you how mermaids reproduce. 

But, you showed up anyway.

Dressed in a light, silk dress to combat the heavy heat of the summer night, you cautiously made your way down to the docks, keeping your eyes and ears peeled for Rafayel. 

"You're here." He appeared a moment later, dashing as usual in his white button-down and pristine slacks. Dazzling under the half-light, you allowed him to take your hand and lead you right to a boat.

"We're not going for a to take a deep dive like last time, right?" Hearing the skepticism in your voice, he laughs.

"Of course, not. I paid Thomas a huge bonus last month and told him to buy a speedboat. For us to borrow, if you're curious." 

"Poor Thomas," you mused, letting him hold you close to his side as he helped you atop the board. "His boss is a tyrant... asking him to use his bonus for such lavish nonsense."

"Is it really a lavish nonsense if I get to have you here?" 

Rafayel's sincerity struck you mute. He breezed past your shocked figure, unaware of the effect he has on you. "Well? Are you going to continue mocking my methods of employment or are we going to do this?" 

Even though his chest was puffed and voice full of bravado, you could tell your sweet artist boyfriend was struggling with his nerves. The tips of his ears were bright red, a faint shadow of a pout on his lips. 

"Raffie," you whisper, taking his hand. He glanced at you, wide-eyed like a fish caught on the bait. "What're you so scared of? It's just you and me."

He lets you rub your thumb across his knuckles, tightening your hold on his fingers.

"I just..." he trails off. "... just don't want you to think I'm a freak. That's all."

Rafayel refused to look at you when he was this vulnerable, and you couldn't help the short giggle bursting past your defenses. He glared, and you quickly reached for his face, touching his cheek.

"Never," you emphasize. "I will never think you're weird. Ever. Besides, if you're a freak then I'm the weirdo in love with you."

Your dopey grin sets something aflutter in his chest, like ripples of ocean waves splashing across a strange shore. Rafayel smirks and takes your hand off his face, choosing to twine his fingers with yours. 

"Shall we make a move, then, my little conch shell?" 

"Rafayel..."

The sight before you stuns you with its splendor. Your beloved boyfriend had gone all out—picnic blankets, lighted candles, flutes of champagne, and spreads of seafood as far as the eye could see... arranged all across the flatbed of this hidden alcove where the sea kisses the land. 

In the distance, the gentle swishes of waves lapping at the shore greeted your ears, its waves illuminated faintly as if lit from within.

"Bioluminescent algae," Rafayel murmurs right behind you. His arms came to wrap around your waist, the heat of his breath fanning right across your exposed neck. "They only appear in the summer when the water is warm." You fight back a shiver, trying not to show how affected you were by his presence. 

"Oh." Dumbly, you weren't sure how to put your thoughts together, much less a coherent sentence. 

Sensing your speechlessness, Rafayel exhaled a laugh. "Come on. We should eat before the food gets cold."

There's a dip in his tone, something tinged with a darker emotion you barely had time to unravel before he was tugging you onto the picnic mat. The food was divine, his personal chefs going all out to satisfy both of your palettes. Conversation flowed easily like the champagne slipping down your throat, coaxing you to release the tightness in your chest in favor of bubbly giggles and flirty smiles.

Rafayel's cheeks were steadily growing pinker, and you were sure he would double over and pass out—forgetting about your brazen question—when you felt his hand on your thigh.

"Would you like to take a swim with me?" 

Memories of seaweed brushing your bare legs, Rafayel’s arms steadily around your waist as he led you past the shoreline fills your mind. Anything cool sounded like a blessing from this heat. 

Plus, he was a pretty good swimmer, as evident from what he truly was. Rafayel would never put you in harm’s way. 

Safe. That was the word. You always feel safe with him. 

“Yes.”

He takes your hand, gives it a squeeze and helps you stand.

Rafayel started to undress first. The hem of his expensive silk shirt reveals the fitted band of his equally expensive slacks—made by the best tailors in all of Linkon. Then, pale skin. It stretches, tightens over defined obliques, abs and then his impressively broad chest. 

Scattered across the sinew and muscle roping his torso were smatterings of moles and beauty marks. 

Someone once told you that these marks were spots past lovers used to love kissing. You idly trace your gaze over the one on his left pec, right over his heart. 

If Rafayel and you had been together in the past, you were sure that the spot over his heart would be your favorite spot to plant your lips on him. 

As furtively as you could, you tried not to gape at him, but completely failed.

Rafayel was a masterpiece made by the gods themselves, and you were the poor fool gaping at his altar; transfixed on the sharp V which led to a light dusting of his happy trail. 

His cock strains behind his slacks, bulging noticeably. You want to reach out and skim your fingers, eager to feel it twitch under your touch. 

"Well?" His gentle amusement tore your thoughts from their sinful vices. "Are you gonna just stare at me or are we going for a swim? Your pick, Miss Bodyguard." 

Showing that you were far braver than you felt, you stood up, shaky hands reaching for the straps of your dress. "Don't look at me." 

A surge of heat flooded your cheeks, your eyes resolutely turned to the side. Obediently, Rafayel followed your orders, though you could hear the cogs turning in his head. It's not like I haven't seen her naked before.  

But, this wasn’t the usual plotting, teasing and flirting you both would indulge in.

Something about the air tonight felt heavier. 

Intimate.

You swore Rafayel could pick up your heartbeat from where he stood. The heat on your cheeks spread down your chest, tingling on your fingertips.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

In nothing but in your lingerie, you shift from foot to foot, feeling too vulnerable and open.

The sky above yawns wide, inky black jaws lovingly unfurling like a spread of velvet sheets. His hand is warm in yours, and you squeeze it, trying to hide how you were trembling. 

“Hey.” Rafayel sweeps you into his arms. Try as you might to fight off the nerves, they bubble up in a short squeak when your face meets his chest. “Relax, baby. You’re shaking like a bubble in the sun… don’t pop just yet.”

You find comfort in his scent—oceanic and musky—breathing him in. 

Do you trust me? Rafayel once asked when you both were drunk on a night out. 

Of course, I do. You flick his nose. Why wouldn’t I trust you? 

Even if I’m different? He fixes you with a look, lucid for someone who had just downed an entire champagne bottle. And I can’t be normal for you? 

Especially because you aren’t normal in the sense of its word… I trust you even more because you trusted me, first. 

Waves lap at your toes, and you shiver at how cool the water is. 

“Easy,” Rafayel coaxes you. He takes the lead, sinking into the soft sand first, never releasing his hold on you. 

You do as he says, a sailor to his siren call, except you knew in your heart you would willingly follow him till the ends of the world.

Once the water was up to your waist, Rafayel exhaled. “Stay here. I’ll be back.” 

You don't have time to protest when he dives into the waves, barely kicking up a spray. Eyeing the softly luminated sea surface, you dip your fingers into the warm water, watching a blue orb float in between your loose fists. 

“Hey.”

Startling, you look up to find him grinning, lilac hair darkened with salt water; holding a bundle of what you thought was tangled hair in his grasp.

“I know you hate the taste of seaweed, but this’ll help when we… get into things.” 

He ends in an awkward note, and you wondered what happened to the once cocky, and sure Rafayel you knew. 

Unfurling his clenched fist, he hands you one single strand. “Eat this. It’ll help you breathe underwater temporarily.” 

“What is it?” you sniff at the strange vegetation. 

“Hydroweed. It gives humans the ability to breathe underwater for up to an hour.”

Putting your faith in his words, you nod. Opening your mouth, you bite into the Hydroweed. 

The briny taste was overwhelming, its tough fibers making it difficult for you to chew. But, you manage to swallow it down. 

Instantly, you felt your throat closing, the air choked out of your lungs. “Rafayel—!” 

Strong hands grab your waist, dragging you under the foamy waves. 

You gasp, about to scream at him to let you go, when you took in your first deep breath underwater.

The world suddenly came to life. Bright blue orbs floated right in front of your face, and you reached for them, in awe at how vivid they glowed now you could see them up close. 

Down in the depths, the waves became hushed murmurs in the background, filling your ears with a ringing silence. 

“Are you okay?” Rafayel’s voice shot through the floating calm like a shout, and you cringed back in shock. 

“Sorry,” he laughs, and pulls you to his side. “It’s way quieter down here than up above because sound travels differently. Strange, huh?” 

You nod, not entirely sure if you could use your voice. As if he read your thoughts, Rafayel chuckles.

“Go ahead and speak, my little conch shell. I can hear you just fine.” 

You take a deep breath. “O-okay.” Growing confident and more comfortable, you relax in his embrace. “It feels… strange. Like you said. But, at the same time, I don’t entirely hate it.”

“Mhm,” he rubs your back, smiling reassuringly and wide. “If there are other Lemurians within a few miles, they can most likely hear you scream.”

His double meaning didn’t register until you felt his palms tracing your hips, teasing down your body to give your ass a fond squeeze.

“Hey—!” 

You swat his hands away, mute with embarrassment. “I-is that why you all live so deep in the sea? For privacy?” 

Rafayel hums. It’s a little off putting how clear his voice sounds, like you were listening to him through a pair of high-grade earphones. 

“Usually, Lemurians mate deep in the trenches where the light can’t find us. It helps to keep things more private and intimate. If not, we travel to other seas uninhabited by our species. I used to know a guy who dragged his wife to the middle of the Atlantic when they were trying for a family.”

Rafayel’s focus ebbs into the distance, a tinge of sadness in his tone that appears whenever he speaks of his long lost people and home. 

You take his hands in yours and squeeze, trying to draw him back from the precipice of his ruined memories.

“We could try…” you trail off, unsure if this was the right thing to say. “...to repopulate it?” 

Like your words were a trigger, you found yourself planted right on the ocean floor, soft sand cushioning your body.

You squeak, quickly darting your eyes to his, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders.

Rafayel’s usual glimmering pink-blue eyes were shadowed by a darker emotion; reminding you of glinting shark teeth or a blade of moonlight slicing through choppy water. 

“Don’t say that, baby.” Was it you, or did his voice drop an octave? 

Your Lemurian lover’s low reprimand made a shudder run down your spine, his half-mast eyes causing your stomach to flip.

“You don’t know how those words make me feel… my kind used to reproduce by the dozens—I can’t wait to see you bulging with my babies.” 

Wait… babies? 

With a capital ‘S’?

His mouth lands on yours, hungry and seeking. You kiss him back with as much ardor, lost in the sensations that you almost forgot what he had said earlier.

“Raf… Rafayel—” you gasp when he starts to dig his teeth into your neck, nipping down your jaw and collarbone.

Deft hands unclip your bra, the motion fluid like he has done this a million times before. From the corner of your eye, you see every article of clothing he took off you floating right to the surface; moonlight bouncing off the fragmented surface, playing across the broad expanse of his back. 

Your head swims with fuzzy thoughts long discarded when he pushes the plush fat of your tits together, licking and nipping around your areolas, ignoring how your nipples were already circling with need. 

“Raffie…” You fist his hair, trying to push his mouth to where you need him the most. “Don’t tease me.”

He laughs at your soft whine. “I need to make sure you’re prepared, my love.”

My love. Rafayel only called you that term whenever he was in the thick of his passion; it seems like you were about to witness the cumulation of your innocent question coming true.

Strong hands held you firmly while he eased down your body, planting fleeting kisses on every inch of your skin his lips could touch. 

Down in the deep, gasps and screams weren’t sounds, but vibrations; the sounds escaping your mouth resounding around your entwined bodies.

“Fuck,” Rafayel cussed once he reached the apex of your thighs. “I can’t wait to finally taste you underwater.” 

Barely giving you time to brace yourself, the broad stroke of his tongue melted through your folds. 

Never would you have imagined you would be eaten out right on the ocean’s bed—going deeper and deeper into the neverending blue. 

Rafayel’s lips were wrapped around your nub, sucking and caressing it with his tongue exactly how you liked it. Your smaller fingers sank into his hair, the other entwining with his own above your heart; back arched to give him everything you have.

“S’good,” he murmurs, verging on the edge of slurring. “I love you.”

His name tumbles from your mouth like a primal echo, calling him right to the edge of a bottomless trench.

Rafayel wasn’t afraid; he would traverse the deep beyond for as many chances to be with you as he could.

“Put your legs around my waist,” he whispers in between sloppy kisses back up your body. 

If someone were to tell you that your sweet boyfriend was literally making love to you on the bottom of the ocean, you would tell them a Wanderer had infected their mind.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his body emanating a faint glow. A distant memory claws past the thin membrane of your barely held together thoughts; moonlight bouncing off pink-blue scales, his unbearable body heat and a pearly sheen misting his eyes.

“Rafayel—” 

The change was imperceptible. At first, you couldn’t feel anything but the sinful sinking of his cock stretching out your cunt. 

Then, it hit you like a freight train.

His waist felt like it was expanding, pushing your thighs further apart. But, when you glanced down the line of your bodies, the length of his legs was replaced by something longer. Bigger. It distinctly had two fins attached to the end, bent at an angle to accommodate the position he was fucking you in.

“R-Rafayel—!” 

“Fuck,” he strains, lining his forehead with yours. “I-I’m scared of hurting you.” 

“N-no,” you force your thick tongue to relinquish the words. “You'll never.”

His skin grew harder under your touch, inches of pale expanses replaced by shiny scales. Minus his face, his limbs, back, chest and torso were completely covered by the armor-like toughness of multiple hardened plates. Where the scales couldn’t touch, they were bonded together by thin layers of lamella, giving his entire body an otherworldly sheen. 

Mesmerized, you titled his face towards you, marveling at the scattering of scales adorning his throat and jaw. 

“Wow,” you murmur, touching them. They weren’t as hard or sharp as you imagined; his scales had a delightful give you couldn't stop pressing down on. 

In response, Rafayel grunts. “Baby… It’s happening.”

You were about to part your mouth and ask him what was, when your eyes shot wide open. 

The place where you both were connected suddenly grew tighter, as if something was pushing against your insides. Your muscles instinctively tried to expel the foreign intrusion, tensing and tightening—it was a shot of fear unlike any other you had ever tasted. 

Panicking, you cried out, “Rafayel, stop!”

Immediately, he ceased rutting into you, breathing heavily. Anguished, pastel eyes peel clapped onto yours, a pearly sheen filming over them.

“Shit… shit, I’m so sorry…”

“What’s happening?” you blurt out, a tremble of fear in your question. “Are you… are you putting e-eggs in me?” 

“Eggs?” he sounds bewildered, and that causes you to be perplexed in turn. Breathing hard, Rafayel’s forehead thumps onto your sternum. He doesn’t refute you or confirm your suspicions. Instead, he takes in a deep, ragged breath, like he was trying to tame down a cresting emotion. “Did you actually think, for a single second, that I was going to leave eggs in you?” 

Before you can even speak, his broad shoulders start to shake. Rafayel’s quiet laughter roused your confusion and indignation; your brows furrowing together because he wouldn’t stop laughing.

“Shut up,” it was your turn to be the whiner in this relationship. “You’re mean. It’s a valid question!” 

“Oh, baby,” he wheezes. One second, he was laughing, and the next, he lapsed into a quiet seriousness, the sudden mood change giving you whiplash. “I would never hurt you like that, my love. Trust me.”

Gently grasping your hand with his, he slips it down both your bodies, right to where you two were connected. “What I meant to show you, my little conch shell, is this.” 

He brings your hand between your own legs. You thought he was going to make you touch yourself, but when you feel something hard and distinctively not flesh-like bump your hand, you flinch back.

“Ssh, don’t be afraid,” he murmurs. “Go on and take a look, my love.”

Again with my love. 

Rafayel was either struck with nerves, or he was completely enamored with you at this moment. 

You licked your lips, tasting salt water on them and cautiously stretched your fingers to feel the strange object up. It was long and girthy, like a penis, except it wasn’t.

Steeling yourself, you risk a peek.

Gone was the smooth, veiny skin of Rafayel’s cock. His human one. 

In its place, was a thick length, riddled with ridges and bumps like an octopus’ tentacle. His very human appendage was always a stunner—slender (like his physique), veiny, with a hooked tip—but the sight before you (that strange and downright alien sight) blew your expectations out of the water. 

Your gasp reverberated around the pressing silence. Rafayel was quiet, waiting for you to speak. In turn, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his new genitalia. 

“Is that…” you struggle to piece together a coherent question. “Is that all… going inside of me?” 

Rafayel grunts. “Unless you don’t want me to, sweetheart.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, staring past the crest of his shoulder towards the shimmering, seemingly impenetrable ceiling of a world beyond the bubble you both created.

“I do,” you finally whisper, your confession rippling around the both of you, suspending your forms in an endless wave of mutual ecstasy. “I want this. I want you.”

Rafayel doesn’t bother to waste his time replying. You brace yourself, heels digging into his hips, clinging onto him with all of your strength. 

The first breach of his otherworldly cock inside of you felt like a touch of electricity up your spine. You cried out, nails digging into his scaly shoulders.

“Relax,” he paces you through the sensations. “I need you to relax for me, my love. I can’t get in if you’re this tight.” 

You gulp in a few deep breaths with your eyes screwed shut, and eventually, your heartbeat slows down. Sluggishly cracking your lids open, you catch the gleam in his pink-blue irises; locks of his iridescent hair floating around his serene expression.

The strange sensation was back, easing past your ring of muscle. You choke on a moan, trying to swallow your fear. 

“Ssh,” Rafayel murmurs. To distract you, he leaves feathery kisses on your cheeks, jaw and then, your lips. 

If the bottom of the ocean wasn’t enough to drown you, his kiss would. 

Rafayel… you whisper into the water. 

His name was a prayer dedicated to the Sea Gods on your tongue, your body sprawled out beyond your comprehension. Every line of you was taut with tension, the achingly slow stretch of his appendage plunging deeper and deeper into your heat had your head spinning like a whirlpool was threatening to suck you in. 

“Almost,” his harsh whisper clashes with your breath. “So good for me; you’re doing so good for me, my love.”

“Rafayel,” you mewled, the sea taking your tears. Hiccuping his name, you shudder, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

Your fist clamped down on soft sand, your back arched, and finally—finally—you felt his hips clipping yours.

“Fuck.”

The both of you groan in unison. 

His kisses were still warm, flush on your parted lips. Rafayel shunted his hips forward, then back. Repeating the same motion. 

Again. Again. And again.

The sensation was unlike any other you had felt in this world. No cock could possibly compare to the ridges wrapped around his length, the blunt, elongated tip almost touching the deepest part of your body.

“Rafayel,” you cried in a thick voice, like your mouth was filled with cotton. “Oh, God…”

Your tits flushed to his chest, your fingers in his hair and his tongue twining with yours shook your inner world like a deep sea earthquake.

This wasn’t like your usual lovemaking sessions; everything was amplified, more sensitive and tangible.

God, was it all so tangible.

You could physically feel every scaly ridge under your fingertips. His modified cock dragging those ecstasy-inducing bumps across your walls. Even his taste was different underwater; like a briny, primal flavor which coated your tongue. 

“Y/N,” his moan more angelic than what you could handle. “I love you. I love you so, so much—” 

Rafayel choked, and you didn’t need to ask to know he was about to cum. 

The ecstasy of it all wrapped its tendrils around both your embracing bodies; a human and Lemurian entangled in a dance as old as time. 

“I love you,” you cry out, toes curling and your nails raking down his back. Rafayel grunts, and in the dim half-light of the ocean engulfing you, you swore you saw his frantic eyes shine like precious pearls.

The world was closing in, darkness seeping into the corners of your vision. 

You pushed on his shoulder, trying to get his attention; acutely aware that the ache in your lungs wasn’t because of his kisses, but of something else.

Something out of your control.

The call of the surface burned through your lungs, and you opened your mouth, about to scream for him to let you go, when it all slammed into you like a tidal wave.

Darkness exploded, splattering across your mind, and you heard his cry of your name, the sound now echoey and muggy.

There was movement. A sharp tug. What sounded like wind whistling through your ears. 

Through your snatches of consciousness, you were aware of the pushback both your bodies weathered through the wall of water; how the ocean was trying to hold you back.

As soon as the sensation appeared, it was shattered by a golden burst of fresh oxygen.

Gulping in mouthfuls of air, you yelled out in fright, blindly grappling across the writhing dark mess of endless ocean surrounding you. 

Rafayel! Rafayel!

You felt strong arms wrap around you, holding you in his embrace like how a father would cradle his child.

Close your eyes, you thought you heard him murmur in your ear. And don’t open them until I tell you it’s safe to.

Arms clamped around his shoulders and legs wrapped around his waist, your intrinsic fear of the ocean made you trust his word. 

Gently now, you were bobbing across the water, the cool currents rushing across your bare skin. It felt like gelatinous cold drafts constantly hitting every body part. Staying true to his promise, you kept your eyes shut until you felt rough sand on your back; the waves receding from your body to lap at your toes.

Gasping, you peel your eyes open, lid by lid.

The alcove where he took you tonight was back in front of you. 

Rolling onto your front, you tried to stand, but only succeeded in stumbling back onto the sand; losing your sense of balance from countless minutes spent suspended in the ocean's mass.

“Hey, hey. Easy there.”

Rafayel was still in his Lemurian form, and this time, under the dim, flickering lights of the bay’s lanterns, you were stunned into an awe-inspiring disquiet.

The flickering warmth casted shadows over his iridescent scales, those once tough and gray plates under the ocean’s darkness glowing from the inside out with a pink-blue flame.

Half of his tail was still submerged in the water, and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze across the stunning length.

Easily a few feet long, you couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around the mental image of how majestic his entire Lemurian form would look underwater. It was just too bad the Hydroweed’s effects were over before you could even get to the good part.

Your thighs were chafing, drawing attention to your gapingly empty cunt. 

Pulling yourself to your knees, you came chest to chest with him. 

Rafayel’s saltwater soaked fingers grasped your cheeks, titling it up to inspect you. 

Trickles of water seeped down his face, darkening the sand with droplets of wetness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, fraught and remorseful. “I lost track of time. I could’ve seriously injured you.”

“It’s okay.” The both of you flinched back from how hoarse your voice sounded. Clearing your throat, you struggled to put your mushy thoughts into words. “I… enjoyed it.”

Rafayel dropped his hands, his breathing growing ragged. “I should get back to normal—”

“No!” 

You stunned him with your vehemence, scrambling to grip his shoulders, clapping your crazed eyes onto his widened ones.

You’re acting like a mad woman. 

But, he didn’t say that to you. Rafayel grasped your hands, drawing them to his chest, pouring every drop of attention onto you. 

“I want to… try it… here.” 

You pieced together your incoherent request, and a part of you wondered—dreaded—if you had already lost your mind from the lack of oxygen and crushing deep sea pressure. 

Rafayel stared at you for a moment, unspeaking.

Then, he gently dragged you closer. Before you could even squeak, he had you straddling his waist. 

This time, it was your turn to peer down at him, curtains of your wet hair framing your face.

“Take me, then,” his voice was equally as hoarse as yours, though you suspected it wasn’t from ingesting enough saltwater to fill up your lungs. Trembling fingers touched your face, smoothing across your cheeks. “I’m all yours. I’ve been bound to you since the very beginning. You can take me, I won’t fight back. I told you I wouldn’t that night, don’t you remember? I’m keeping my word now.”

Something about the longing in his tone, how those pink-blue eyes yearned to swim in your soul, brought a lump to your throat. 

“Rafayel…”

Strong hands helped to guide your hips over his cock, easing you down with quiet praises and encouragement.

So good for me, baby. Look at you. Taking me so well. Wish I could paint this moment—you look so pretty. All for me. My love. My love. 

“R-Rafayel!” Thin red lines bloomed on his chest from your nails, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Without the sea’s buoyancy to support you, gravity took over, easing you down his bulbous cock.

Rafayel’s thumb circles your clit, rubbing it gently, soothingly, to get you wetter.

Your body felt like it was about to split cleanly into two—he was much too big for you. 

“C-can’t!” you whisper-cried. “I can’t take all of you—ngh.”

His mouth found your nipples, licking and sucking along the fleshy nubs until they were coated with his spit and tightening obscenely; an erotic outline lit by the bay's dim lantern lights.

“You can,” he mumbled in between your breasts. “I know you can.”

The rough strip of his tongue slid from your sternum towards your neck, pausing right at your pulse point. Sharp bites bloomed on your neck from his teeth, and you shiver from the throbbing pain going straight to your clit. 

That strange, heightening sensation was back. You felt much too sensitive, like a lightning rod trembling from an impending electrical storm.

One touch could’ve made you explode.

Rafayel brought your lips to his, tangling his tongue down your throat; stoppering your cries. 

Warm, smooth, distinctively human palms caressed your hips and thighs. 

Almost in, baby, he whispers in between kisses. I can feel every inch of you. 

You flit your eyes to where both your bodies meet, in mute shock from how deep he already was in you.

“You like it, baby?” he breathes warmly on your jaw. “Like watching yourself sit on my cock?” 

Fuck. Stop teasing me, you want to whine. But, the words won’t slip past your clenched teeth. 

His name bounces across the soft sand, the wind picking up and making you shiver. 

The warm glow of the lanterns spill across his sharp cheekbones, planes of his jaw. You’ve never seen someone look this beautiful under a hazy night sky before.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” you feel him murmur against your lips. “Say the word, baby. We’ll stop.”

You’re panting now, trying hard not to break your progress and having to start over. Rafayel was about halfway inside, and you forced your body to push and receive. 

Guh, you gasp, tossing your head back. 

“Love seeing you stretch yourself out on my cock, baby,” Rafayel mutters hoarsely—passionately. 

The implicit meaning in his words is clear: I love how you give yourself so willingly to me.

For Rafayel, you would do this ten times over until your body memorizes him. Willing your cunt to make a home for his monster cock even if it would break your spine.

“Almost,” he reassures in a low groan. “You feel s’good baby.”

He’s sweating as well, bullets of exertion not to break his composure and fuck into you mingling with the last of the seawater droplets rolling down his temples.

Rafayel, Rafayel, you whimper his name over and over. Oh God…

Something bubbles inside of you, thick and hot. You think you’re about to spill over, thighs shaking from the effort of holding yourself up. 

Your lover groans, low and lusty, his eyes trapped right in between your legs. “You’re so wet—look. Your little pussy loves me, baby.”

You glance to where he’s telling you to look, and nearly pass out from the embarrassment. 

Thick, pearly droplets are oozing down his merman length, and you would’ve thought it was from him had you not felt your walls start to twitch—more wetness gushing and trickling down to stain his pelvis.

The added lubrication made it easy enough for you to bottom out on his cock, and both your mutual cries of ecstasy reverberated into the dark night.

Shit, shit. Too big. You’re too big for me.

“You can take it,” he mouths your earlobe, kissing down your cheek. “Doing so well for me.”

Your breathing trembles, like a question hanging in thin air. Can you fuck me now? 

Rafayel scoffs and bumps his nose with yours gently. “Always making me do the hard work. You really are my spoiled, pretty princess, aren’t you? Or…” his voice drops, the heat in his eyes almost scorching you. “Do you want to be my good girl?”

You gasp: I do. I want to be your good girl.

He hisses when you start to shift your hips, the motion making your clit catch on his pelvis. You mewl, leaning forward to repeat the same motion; trying to chase after that spark of pleasure over and over again.

Those big, smooth palms cradle your face, pushing your hair back.

Rafayel’s jaw is tense, like he’s biting down on some inner demon you can’t see. 

That’s it. That’s my good girl. 

Your nails leave white crescent moons on his pale shoulders as you ride him, every bump and ridge of his cock brushing your sweet spot. He was so deep in you, almost plunging right past your cervix. 

“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

An arm sweeps you right to his chest, your cheek pressed atop his heartbeat. Rafayel thrusts his hips up, meeting your sensual grinding.

Spit pools in the back of your throat, your eyes squeezed shut as you let your Lemurian lover have his way with you. You part your mouth, mellifluous moans touching the air and turning it golden to his reddened ears.

I love you. His whispers against your throat, the sting of his teeth soothed by the sweetness of his praise and adoration. I love you so much, my good girl.

“You fuck me so good,” the words tumble from your split mouth, recklessly thoughtful. “No one can fuck me like you.”

Yeah, he pants, mouthing your pulse point. Cream on this cock, baby. It’s all yours. His hands span across your lower back, traversing down to grip your ass and spreading you wider for him.

Give me everything you’ve got, Princess. 

His cock plunges so deep inside of you, and you were sure that if he came right now, he might’ve knocked you up in one try. 

All yours. Rafayel was all yours. 

You lean up, arms resting on either side of his head as the sand bites into your skin. 

Rafayel thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. He watches, mesmerized, as your tits sway right in front of his face. You’re fucking him now, meeting each fluid thrust he had to give; bouncing on his lap like you were riding out a desperate heat.

His thighs tense, and he feels your pussy clench down on him. 

Fuck, you stutter, and so do your hips. I’m close. 

He squeezes your ass, smacks it with both palms.

Your breathing catches, and you ride him even harder. Faster.

“Fuck,” those pretty eyes were hooded, latched on your bouncing tits and stiff nipples. “Look so good fucking me—you love using me, don’t you, Master?” 

You gasp, and Rafayel feels your composure slip when you squeeze down on him. He almost cums right there and then. But, he fights it off, needing to see you lose control first.

The sight of your stickiness frothing at the base of his cock nearly makes him white out in pleasure, getting messier with every stroke of his non-human cock. 

He’s never had a human before in his Lemurian form, but it’s something straight out of a wild, wet dream.

Your skin was so, so soft in comparison to his hard scales that he’s almost afraid of hurting you with them.

But, you prove you’re made of tougher stuff when you lean back, bracing both hands on the girth of his tail. 

Showing off your puffy pussy and glistening hole taking every inch of him like it was made for this and only for this purpose.

He feels himself drowning in you. No one has ever taken him this deep. His mouth falls open, a low grunt touching your hot ears. Good girl… good fucking girl. His praises make you warm all over. You would do anything and everything to earn his devotion. But, Rafayel doesn’t make you do it—he gives it to you freely. One large hand smoothed over your belly, your tits, pinching your nipples and smirking inwardly when you gasp and groan. 

Breathy whimpers resound, his thumb on your clit rubbing out full body shudders. The sky above spins, like he’s being sucked into and about to be spat out of a whirlpool.

His eyes bounce from the softness of your belly, your tits jiggling, and then back down to your pretty pussy taking all of him in.

“Like what you see?” 

Rafayel flits his gaze back up. Your eyes were two pools of smoldering heat, about to burn him alive.

You grab his wandering hand, pressing it right over your stomach. “I can feel you here.” He twitches, and you gasp. “So, so deep.”

Sloppy sounds of your bodies meeting; you were so, so wet and perfect. Your pussy was gushing, fighting between squeezing him out or sucking him in. 

I’m gonna cum, baby, he grunts. The vein in his neck tightens, and your whimper almost sets him off.

Gonna cum so deep inside of you. Make you so round and perfect with my babies. You’re my Queen, aren’t you? My love. I’ll love you until the seas dry up. You’re mine forever. 

It’s that tinge of possessiveness which does you under. You were putty to his deep, gravelly voice; those words of unending devotion and sin.

His thick, dark lashes flutter, those pretty eyes rolling back into his head.

Fuck, baby. He grabs onto your hips, looking for something to steady him. “I need you… I’m gonna cum,” he whines, and it’s pathetic really—how much you’ve affected him.

If he was a lesser man, Rafayel might’ve called you his weakness. But, you were more than that.

You were the reason he woke up in the mornings. The reason he relentlessly pursued the passages of time and space to find you; you were the muse to his madness. 

“Do it for me, baby,” you pant, and fall back into his arms. Chest to chest, lips to lips, every breath you took was exhaled by his own. “Cum for me.”

Make me yours forever, Rafayel.

The world goes white, and your pussy quivers around him, an ending opera note suspended in mid-air.

It comes crashing down, slo-mo turned to a normal pace when time rushes back to engulf your sluggish shore.

His cum fills you up, thicker and running hotter than a human’s. It felt strange; pulsating inside of you, glob after glob. Your pussy shudders and breaks, physical and emotional walls all torn down for him; voice hoarse and edged with mania. Rafayel, Rafayel, Rafayel…

You mumble his name like a prayer while he drags your lips to his, kissing you like an oath.

He feels you shudder around him, growing weaker like a kitten. It would be so easy for him to pierce your neck with his teeth, cut through your jugular with his scales. 

But, Rafayel tames his primal, oceanic urge to destroy, reining it back in favor of nosing your hair.

“Felt so good,” he mumbles tiredly. “Are you okay, my little conch shell?”

You hum, shift your hips. The bulbous head of his cock brushes the opening of your cervix. “I can’t believe I took you so deep.” You drift off and in a few minutes, feel him go from soft to half-hard in you again. 

“Are you still turned on, baby?” you ask innocently, voice soft and frayed with exhaustion. Rafayel swivels his face away, trying to hide his red ears.

“N-no.”

You huff a laugh, using all the strength in your jelly-like limbs to sit up. Something catches your attention, and in the corner of your eye, you pick up the dark strands, fisting it close to your mouth.

Rafayel watches, unsure what you’re intending to do. He sits up, squints, and almost gasps.

That’s enough Hydroweed for you to last a night under the ocean. 

He’s about to stop you, when you ingest it all in one go.

The second you convulse, he pushes you back into the ocean, your gasp of relief second to only his bruising kiss completely devouring your mouth. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, and your back meets the ocean floor again. This time, you take the lead, rolling him off to straddle his waist again. 

Rafayel glances at you, gorgeous pastel eyes hooded. 

He notices how comfortable you’re getting underwater; how easy it is for you to scoot down his torso, your playful smirk making his cock and heartstrings throb. 

“Baby—” he mumbles, only to be cut off by the sight of you kissing his bulbous tip.

Rafayel isn’t a believer of god per say (coming from his own experience as a retired sea deity), but at the sight of your pretty lips skimming his merman tip, he thinks he could give religion another shot. 

What’re you doing? His whisper carries across the currents.

Ssh, you hush him, rimming the tip of your tongue around his flushed head. You don’t miss how his tail twitches, cock now painfully at full mast. 

Isn’t it obvious? You mumble, kissing the tip reverently. I want to taste my Lemurian's pretty cock.

He seizes, back arching, putty in your hands when you take him down as deep as your little throat allows. 

What else you couldn’t fit, you used your hands to jack up and down.

Soft hisses slip past his clenched teeth. “You’re driving me crazy, baby.”

Mhm, you slur, flickering your hazy, fucked out gaze to his flushed face. Tastes so good, you whisper, and Rafayel was glad the ocean didn’t show the line of drool that usually trickles down your jaw; your fucked out expression which would make his control snap instantly. 

You would need to consume at least three more mouthfuls of Hydroweed before he was fully done with you. 

Luckily, Thomas’ yacht came with some fluffy towels.

Rafayel had wrapped you in one while he laid the other under your back; content to curl his tail around you, still in his Lemurian form. The honeywood deck was warm to the touch, the balmy evening offering comfort and respite from hours underneath the cold, dark ocean. 

“So…” he quips, not one for stewing in silence. “Questions? Thoughts? Comments?” 

You fight back a smile. 

“Was there really eggs put up inside of me? Swore I felt a lot of round and hard things sloshing inside.”

“That… would be my tip.” Rafayel flicks your nose when you scoff. “On a scale of one to ten, how freaked out would you be if I said I did actually put some eggs up in your body and it had to be fertilized so the rest would start falling out of you like gelatinous goo until the only one takes?” 

You blink. “Pretty freaked out, if I’m being honest.”

“So… a nine?” 

“More like—” you lifted your hand and made a so-so motion. “—a six, at best. I’m kinda used to your bullshit by now, babe.” 

“Hey!” Rafayel tugs on the ends of your hair, making you laugh. Growing serious now, he murmurs, “So, you’re absolutely fine with being knocked up with a half-Lemurian kid?” 

“Depends,” you mumble mildly. “Am I the first one you’re doing this with?”

Barely missing a beat, he nodded. “The only one. Never had time to sleep around. Always busy running a kingdom. Blah-blah. Typical God of the Sea stuff. No biggie.”

“Aw,” you coo, “I’m so honored you waited for me.” 

You expected him to scoff or roll his eyes, not lapse into a serious quietness. Rafayel’s silence stretched on, and you perched your jaw on his shoulder.

“Hey. Penny for your thoughts?” 

“Hmm.” Rafayel tugs you closer, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his cheek. His lips are inches apart from yours, warm breath touching your parted mouth. You taste him on your tongue, invigorating yet comforting.

A well-worn sign of home. 

“Just that I would do it all over again. Wait for you, I mean. Even if it takes a long, long time.”

A few centimeters and 800 years stand between the two of you. 

But, for tonight, you breach the distance and kiss him, grateful that you had been given this cherished memory together with Rafayel.

— rbs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or translate my work across other platforms.

[gbrllmdsn]

Rafayel is the type to claim that you’re the clingy one out of the pair of you, despite the fact that he’s the one who’s holding onto your hand, he was holding your hand so tightly in fact that you were afraid you might loose all feeling in it if he didn’t let up anytime soon.

And even when you do leave, Rafayel is automatically on the phone to you, sending text messages, FaceTime calls and so on until it was well past midnight and you were in desperate need of some sleep; But even then Rafayel is on the other end and holding his phone close to his chest as though he were holding you instead as he drifts off, hop in that one day his dream to have you across from him and spend your mornings, evenings and nights with him to come true one day.

He wishes he had the confidence and courage to ask you to move in with him but until then, he can only dream of what mundane domestic lifestyle you two would chose to have together in his dreams.

Rafayel is the type to search for aspects of yourself in everything he sees, in everywhere he goes, in everything that he touches. Everything reminded him of you in some shape or form, whether that be in a recent memory you shared together, or in something that you mentioned or did previously before meeting him; Even in his paintings there were aspects of you that he’s integrated into his artwork without realising until the finish product, so much so that he might as well have painted a portrait of you because that’s how much of the painting reminded Rafayel of you.

He’ll want to immortalise you in some abstract but beautiful way that would leave anyone breathless upon seeing it. This would be one of the paintings that he would never dare put up for auction, never. For this was his magnum opus and he would never allow for it to be hung up and have its origins forgotten in the hallway of some snobbish, rich aristocrat, who had no use for it other then as a decorative piece.

It’s his and his alone that he’d keep safe elsewhere and look at it when he needed to feel you near when you were psychically needed elsewhere.

Zayne may never and will never tell you he likes/loves you but that doesn’t mean he won’t have signs that were obvious that he cares for you deeply.

Especially when he’s putting a stop to your excessive usage of coffee and energy drinks by making you substitute it for water or when he’s making sure you eat proper meals and helping you develop a better sleep schedule that better suited you and your lifestyle.

He’s doing small things for you like;

Making sure you walk on the inside of the curb and away from traffic

Tying your shoelaces when he noticed that they’ve started to become undone during your walk.

Placing your keys in more obvious places because he know that you’ll forget where you last put them or keep ahold of them himself as your getting ready for your outing before silently holding them out towards you when you begin to look for them.

Helping with the cleaning because he knows that you don’t have the mental energy to bring yourself to do so yourself, something that he’ll never shame you for as he’d rather you have a healthy mental state rather then a destructive one.

Making your bed in the mornings.

Having your medication on hand should you need it and acting as your personal reminder to take them when it reaches a certain time.

Zipping up your coat, adjusting your scarf and gloves so that he knew that you’d be kept warm from the cold.

Making you a drink in the morning followed by a well balanced breakfast in bed, followed by a cheeky sweet treat.

Zayne may never answer will never tell you he likes/loves you but he can only hope that his actions were enough to show that, that they spoke loud enough, but then again he highly doubts it being a possibility.

[gbrllmdsn]

✧—thinking about rafayel;

he practically invented being a brat. without hesitation, rafayel was always biting back at your remarks with equal ferocity, but the truth was: there was no real malice behind those sentiments. at least, not when your strap is buried deep in his walls, kissing at his prostate with each steady stroke of your hips. it was almost pathetic how quickly he's eating his own words, whining and whimpering and submitting to you after having defying you boldfaced. the man before you—with his mouth slightly ajar and eyes hazy and unfocused from your touch as he watched with a depraved pleasure of how with each thrust, a small bulge emerges is visible, disrupting the planes of his toned stomach—was vastly different from the man who openly mocks you.

you shove your fingers into his mouth, which he obediently complies with as he looks up at you through his wet lashes and like this, you think—shut up and pretty and fucked out—like this is when he looks best.

[gbrllmdsn]

Man I’m so whipped for rafayel I need to tell him how much I love him while riding him

i get you. i understand you, you are seen. no because just imagine like...

you're climbing on top of him, soft legs straddling the sides of his torso as he grabs the expanse of your thigh with greedy hands, mesmerized by how his grip causes the flesh underneath to conform between his fingers. his hands are twitching against your skin as he feels his sensitive tip prod at your leaking entrance, taking in a sharp breath as he watches with a dazed fascination with how your walls engulf his cock with warmth as you slowly sink down on his length with a hushed moan, jolting at the way your walls clench around him as he unintentionally brushed past your g-spot.

"you," rafayel pants, "you're so—ngh—please, 's not enough i need more."

"shh, shh. it's okay, patience, baby. eyes on me," you coo'd, hands resting on his chest as you slowly lifted your hips up. "love you so much, you're doing so good f'me."

his head spins with the way you're praising him, but you were just too slow. restraint isn't a word in his vocabulary when it comes to you, never has been. his hands shift their attention from your thighs to your hips, and you look at him with a confused expression before he slams you down on his cock, most definitely bruising your cervix as you let out a yelp.

"shit—!" you cry out in surprise, "'s too much."

"you can take it, baby," he teases, groaning at the sight of your walls sucking him back in so greedily as he lifts you up.

at this pace, with each thrust, he finds himself causes you to shudder with overwhelming pleasure. he sits up, pressing a sloppy kiss to your neck as his dick throbs inside of you, unrelenting in his pace,

“rafayel, mmph—” you drool, a shaky whine leaving your lips as you keep babbling, “that’s so good, right there, shit, i love you so much”

"i love you more, baby," he whimpers, "fuck, 'm cumming,"

his tip is prodding at the entrance of your womb as he comes undone inside of you. he's watching with satisfaction at the way your eyes roll back into your head as they flutter shut; the hot flash of your orgasm washes over you, causing your whole body to drown with pleasure while your legs are shaking and are tightening around his waist as your walls spasm around his sticky release.

he collapses on top of you, not bothering to pull out as you both try to even your breaths. he tucks a stray strand of damp hair behind your ear as he looks at you with such overwhelming adoration before gently kissing your forehead, nestling into you gently as the slowing rhythm of your heart soothes him to sleep.

a/n: i may have gotten carried away. not sure if this was what you were looking for but i hope you enjoyed it !

[gbrllmdsn]

✧—thinking about rafayel;

he's frustrated, angry, seething even. you can tell by the subtle way his left eye twitches slightly at the smallest annoyances and the way he's clenching his fists the point where his knuckles are turning white.

oh, and also by the way he's fucking into you with such aggression that he's gouging out your insides. his hips are fast, with each thrust causing your mind to go blank, stars scattering your vision as he makes you come for the nth time. your body is spasming around him, walls tightening around his cock and he knows your spent. but he doesn't care, not when he's violently prodding at your womb with such anger. he's using you as if you were his own personal fucktoy, sweat causing his pretty bangs to stick to his forehead as he's panting like a rabid animal, his pace unrelenting. you're crying, hiccuping and grasping at the bedsheets before you as you come again, slick gushing out of your messy cunt.

you mentally remind yourself to always never let him use you as a way to blow off steam ever again.

[gbrllmdsn]

Skin to skin with rafayel is not a want it’s a need ☹️☹️ I just wanna crawl under his stupid shirt and be close to him 😔

"what," rafayel says, pausing in between words for emphasis, "are you doing,"

you're scooting in, pressing your bare torso up against his own undressed body, gently brushing a strand of hair out of his eye as you do so.

"getting closer to you? duh?" you respond, looking up at him through your lashes with a glint of amusement.

"someone's eager for round three, huh?" he remarks sarcastically, sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"okay now, i'm not that needy," you retort gently, "i just want to cuddle, dumbass."

you almost feel yourself swoon at his reaction as his ears and cheeks almost immediately flush red. despite having done unspeakable things to you, the fact that he's still flustered at your simple request for gentle intimacy has you giddy.

"awh, is someone shy?" you tease, pinching his cheeks out of the need to satisfy your cuteness aggression.

"you need to shut up before i make you sleep on the couch, seriously," he's mumbling with no real malice, trying to unsuccessfully divert his gaze from your eyes as you drink in the sight of his bashfulness.

"you're no fun," you pout, nuzzling your head in his neck as you inhale his scent, the heat of his body radiating into yours.

"funny you say that 'cause, that's the whole reason you stick around," he laughs, the vibration tickling at your skin.

you feel yourself suppressing your own smile as you bury your face against his skin. the warmth flooding your body was so achingly familiar that you knew without a doubt that this is where you were meant to be, right by his side.

[gbrllmdsn]

how would rafayel react if you got a tattoo of something written in his handwriting in HIS LANGUAGEEEEE right above your heart 🥴

"in what world would you need to drag me into the family bathroom— in the middle of errand may i add—for a surprise if it's not going to be head?" rafayel quipped, staring you down with a playful, questioning expression.

you roll your eyes and scoff lightly, not even bothering to respond as you begin to lift up the hem of your shirt. you watch as the following remark die in his throat before even having formed as his eyes trace along the patch of reddened skin lining the curve of your breast, right above your heart.

he steps forward, and upon closer observation, he sees the inked echo of the words on his anniversary letter to you—a cheesy reference to a romance movie you both adore.

you've bewitched me, body and soul.

the handwriting was so achingly familiar, and the same warmth that guts him whenever you looked at him too endearingly flooded his body, rendering him stupid. it was his handwriting, in his native language. the realization made his head spin with the overwhelming, insatiable urge to kiss you.

"well," you begun hesitantly, "do you like it?"

with a gentle hand, he reaches out and traces the characters with a practiced precision. there's a beat of silence, the soft mixture of your breaths intermingling before he uses his other hand to lift your chin up so your lips could meet his in a chaste kiss before pulling away.

"no. i hate it. i can't believe you would ever do this," he deadpanned, but unable to contain the laughter bubbling in his throat, his expression broke into one of complete and tender bliss.

give it to rafayel to ruin the reveal of a sweet, intimate surprise.

"liar," you pouted.

"you're right," he laughs endearingly, index finger still ghosting the letters on your chest. "everyday when i think i can't fall in love with you more, you just have to prove me wrong, huh?"

his eyes linger on the words once more before his lips seek out yours once more and warmth kisses your heart at the sensation. he felt giddy at the thought that you had inked yourself for him, but more than that, he was utterly enraptured with the thought that you were so undeniably, irrevocably his.

[gbrllmdsn]

Rafayel is the type to claim that you’re the clingy one out of the pair of you, despite the fact that he’s the one who’s holding onto your hand, he was holding your hand so tightly in fact that you were afraid you might loose all feeling in it if he didn’t let up anytime soon.

And even when you do leave, Rafayel is automatically on the phone to you, sending text messages, FaceTime calls and so on until it was well past midnight and you were in desperate need of some sleep; But even then Rafayel is on the other end and holding his phone close to his chest as though he were holding you instead as he drifts off, hop in that one day his dream to have you across from him and spend your mornings, evenings and nights with him to come true one day.

He wishes he had the confidence and courage to ask you to move in with him but until then, he can only dream of what mundane domestic lifestyle you two would chose to have together in his dreams.

Rafayel is the type to search for aspects of yourself in everything he sees, in everywhere he goes, in everything that he touches. Everything reminded him of you in some shape or form, whether that be in a recent memory you shared together, or in something that you mentioned or did previously before meeting him; Even in his paintings there were aspects of you that he’s integrated into his artwork without realising until the finish product, so much so that he might as well have painted a portrait of you because that’s how much of the painting reminded Rafayel of you.

He’ll want to immortalise you in some abstract but beautiful way that would leave anyone breathless upon seeing it. This would be one of the paintings that he would never dare put up for auction, never. For this was his magnum opus and he would never allow for it to be hung up and have its origins forgotten in the hallway of some snobbish, rich aristocrat, who had no use for it other then as a decorative piece.

It’s his and his alone that he’d keep safe elsewhere and look at it when he needed to feel you near when you were psychically needed elsewhere.

Zayne may never and will never tell you he likes/loves you but that doesn’t mean he won’t have signs that were obvious that he cares for you deeply.

Especially when he’s putting a stop to your excessive usage of coffee and energy drinks by making you substitute it for water or when he’s making sure you eat proper meals and helping you develop a better sleep schedule that better suited you and your lifestyle.

He’s doing small things for you like;

Making sure you walk on the inside of the curb and away from traffic

Tying your shoelaces when he noticed that they’ve started to become undone during your walk.

Placing your keys in more obvious places because he know that you’ll forget where you last put them or keep ahold of them himself as your getting ready for your outing before silently holding them out towards you when you begin to look for them.

Helping with the cleaning because he knows that you don’t have the mental energy to bring yourself to do so yourself, something that he’ll never shame you for as he’d rather you have a healthy mental state rather then a destructive one.

Making your bed in the mornings.

Having your medication on hand should you need it and acting as your personal reminder to take them when it reaches a certain time.

Zipping up your coat, adjusting your scarf and gloves so that he knew that you’d be kept warm from the cold.

Making you a drink in the morning followed by a well balanced breakfast in bed, followed by a cheeky sweet treat.

Zayne may never answer will never tell you he likes/loves you but he can only hope that his actions were enough to show that, that they spoke loud enough, but then again he highly doubts it being a possibility.

[gbrllmdsn]

love and deepspace men when you keep telling them you love them

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel fluff fluff and fluff

zayne

“is that how you’re going to reply to anything i say today?” he asked in a serious tone, although the slight twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him. you smiled just a tad wider, gaining a reaction from the man whose lap you’re sitting at. “i love you,” you say once more, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. zayne just looked at you, he gazed at you so adoringly with eyes that told you millions. a hand cupped your jaw as you leaned into the touch, his hand felt warm. his thumb rubbed your cheek, then he let out the slightest smile to himself. “i can never win against you, can i?” he asked, kissing your lips as you could feel his smile against yours he mumbled, “i love you too.”

xavier

xavier offered you his sweetest smile as he stared at you. “i think i like this game.” he pulled you close, his arms around your waist as he leaned it, his breath ghosting over the skin of your cheek. you laughed at the ticklish feeling. “and i think i love you,” you replied, grabbing a hold of his face with both of your hand to stop his mischievous movement. xavier smiled once more, to a point where looked like he’s practically beaming. “again,” he whispered. “i love you, xavier.”

he chuckled happily, the sound filled your chest with an overwhelming sensation. “again?” he rested his forehead against yours, a gorgeous smile still loyal on his lips. “i love you so much, xavier.” xavier closed his eyes, as if basking the happiness that he thought could last for two eternities. he pressed a kiss on your lips, “i love you.” he pulled away before leaning in once more. “i love you, (y/n). always.”

rafayel

he looked almost smug on the first one, a coy smile painted his feature. “i know that,” he said as he crossed his arms, looking a tad too proud of himself. “rafayel, i love you,” you said once more as his demeanor changed slightly from the confident man to someone who looked a little unsure. “oh.. uh.. y-yeah you said that already,” he rubbed the back of his head, a pretty color of pink rose to his cheeks. you chuckled quietly at the expected reaction. you put your arms around his neck as you once more said, “have i told you that i love you so much rafayel?”

his blush now has spread all the way to the tip of his ears. “yes, yes you did, enough please!” he face palmed, trying to cover half of his face which proved to be futile since he left enough space so he could still look at you. “you never have mercy on my poor heart,” he mumbled, finally reciprocating the embrace. you squinted your eyes, expecting a certain sentence to be said back. “fine, fine. i love you too. happy?” he said, teasing. you exaggerated a frown as he laughed. “i love you, (y/n).” he said sincerely, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

[gbrllmdsn]

How they’d react to you jokingly not wanting to hold their hand.

Rafayel:

Dramatic bastard.

He’s hurt that you’d dare not hold his hand.

Pouty mermaid man for the rest of the day, and when Thomas asks why he was being this way, Rafayel would dramatically say that you broke up with him.

Thomas -unaware of the situation- would text you and ask what the fuck Rafayel was on about, only for you to tell him that you wouldn’t hold his hand. 💀

Thomas: he told me you broke up with him…

You: …why am I not surprised.

Rafayel for : WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO MY EX THOMAS?! 🧜🏻‍♂️🧜🏻‍♂️

The other scenario is that he will forcibly hold your hand, intertwining your fingers so that you couldn’t pull away from him and stay like that for the entire day. Even if he has painting to finish he will try and do it one handed bc he’s extra like that.

You are currently in hand jail for a week according to Rafayel.

Xavier:

Is genuinely concerned and thinks that he might’ve done something/ something had happened recently to you.

Does not understand the concept of a joke sometimes.

Will sit you down and discuss the ‘issue’ only to to look dumbfounded when you tell him that no, nothing was wrong and that you’d gladly hold his hand anytime anyplace.

He looked like a confused puppy with its head tilted to the side when you tell him this. He is confused as to your reasoning for doing such a thing if you were more than okay with holding his hand in the first place.

‘Why did you pull your hand away from mine when I tried to hold your hand the first time?’

‘Xavier it’s a joke I swear-‘

He’ll get over it sooner or later.

Zayne:

Sees through the bullshit.

He knows this game very well as he’s probably overheard his colleges do this prank on their partners to gauge their reaction.

So the moment you do this with him, he will only raise his brow and casually mention that he knows what you’re trying to do.

He’s not as dramatic as raf nor takes it as serious as Xavier, but more of a neutral reaction. He knows you mean nothing by it if you don’t hold his hand and he’s not going to force you to hold his hand unless you wish to.

What a distinguished gentleman-

‘Is there a reason that you participated in this trend?’ He’d inquire.

‘Other than to see your reaction? No, not really.’ You’d reply.

‘Then if you’ve got your wanted result, may I hold your hand?’ Then asks, holding out his large hand to you.

‘I’ll never get one over you, will I?’ You asked as you placed your hand into his with a smile.

Zayne smiles softly. ‘I appreciate the attempts taken in trying, they’re very entertaining.’

[gbrllmdsn]

Rafayel is the type to claim that you’re the clingy one out of the pair of you, despite the fact that he’s the one who’s holding onto your hand, he was holding your hand so tightly in fact that you were afraid you might loose all feeling in it if he didn’t let up anytime soon.

And even when you do leave, Rafayel is automatically on the phone to you, sending text messages, FaceTime calls and so on until it was well past midnight and you were in desperate need of some sleep; But even then Rafayel is on the other end and holding his phone close to his chest as though he were holding you instead as he drifts off, hop in that one day his dream to have you across from him and spend your mornings, evenings and nights with him to come true one day.

He wishes he had the confidence and courage to ask you to move in with him but until then, he can only dream of what mundane domestic lifestyle you two would chose to have together in his dreams.

Rafayel is the type to search for aspects of yourself in everything he sees, in everywhere he goes, in everything that he touches. Everything reminded him of you in some shape or form, whether that be in a recent memory you shared together, or in something that you mentioned or did previously before meeting him; Even in his paintings there were aspects of you that he’s integrated into his artwork without realising until the finish product, so much so that he might as well have painted a portrait of you because that’s how much of the painting reminded Rafayel of you.

He’ll want to immortalise you in some abstract but beautiful way that would leave anyone breathless upon seeing it. This would be one of the paintings that he would never dare put up for auction, never. For this was his magnum opus and he would never allow for it to be hung up and have its origins forgotten in the hallway of some snobbish, rich aristocrat, who had no use for it other then as a decorative piece.

It’s his and his alone that he’d keep safe elsewhere and look at it when he needed to feel you near when you were psychically needed elsewhere.

Zayne may never and will never tell you he likes/loves you but that doesn’t mean he won’t have signs that were obvious that he cares for you deeply.

Especially when he’s putting a stop to your excessive usage of coffee and energy drinks by making you substitute it for water or when he’s making sure you eat proper meals and helping you develop a better sleep schedule that better suited you and your lifestyle.

He’s doing small things for you like;

Making sure you walk on the inside of the curb and away from traffic

Tying your shoelaces when he noticed that they’ve started to become undone during your walk.

Placing your keys in more obvious places because he know that you’ll forget where you last put them or keep ahold of them himself as your getting ready for your outing before silently holding them out towards you when you begin to look for them.

Helping with the cleaning because he knows that you don’t have the mental energy to bring yourself to do so yourself, something that he’ll never shame you for as he’d rather you have a healthy mental state rather then a destructive one.

Making your bed in the mornings.

Having your medication on hand should you need it and acting as your personal reminder to take them when it reaches a certain time.

Zipping up your coat, adjusting your scarf and gloves so that he knew that you’d be kept warm from the cold.

Making you a drink in the morning followed by a well balanced breakfast in bed, followed by a cheeky sweet treat.

Zayne may never answer will never tell you he likes/loves you but he can only hope that his actions were enough to show that, that they spoke loud enough, but then again he highly doubts it being a possibility.