Work Text:
Rafayel was out in the garden, painting on the porch while you took a bath in the bathroom. Sunlight spilled through the open windows, dancing on the water. It glittered on your wet skin— your rounded belly visible just beneath the surface.
Footsteps approached from outside— the door creaking open as your husband appeared in the doorway.
His eyes met yours.
"Finished painting?" you murmured.
Rafayel shut the door, never taking his gaze off you.
"No," he replied quietly. Honesty.
He crossed the room—slow, careful, as he dropped to his knees beside your tub. His eyes flickered over your body, drinking in every curve beneath the water. He reached out—one finger tracing the line of your hip.
"There's something else I want to paint now…"
"Oh?" you murmured, leaning back slightly in the water—eyes half-lidded, a lazy smile playing on your lips. "What now? Another masterpiece?"
Rafayel’s breath hitched.
You were glowing— radiant. Sunlight on wet skin. Water hugging the soft swell of your belly where his masterpiece live and grew.
And you knew it.
He growled low in his throat— a sound more animal than man— and leaned closer, one hand sliding up your thigh beneath the water.
"Not just any masterpiece," he whispered, voice rough as sand over flame. "I want to paint you... like this."
You splashed water to him. He, the other hand, was giggling. Hand gently caress your cheek, then pinched it. You just wanna splash him for the second time until he said, "Now, you're the one who like staying in bathroom, huh?"
A laughter escaped my lips as i pull his face close and kiss him right away— not giving him a chance for protest or speak. "I will go out soon."
Rafayel smiled brightly as he walked out from bathroom. "I prepared something," somehow, you can see him smiling from his back. "I will wait you."
When his back already gone, you took a deep breathe and going out from bath tube. You walk into a full body mirror, watching your body change... a swollen belly, who bear a living creature, their masterpiece of art, inside of it. You watch closely your round belly with a smile, realizing that this body of yours has fully changed.
Something make your mind uneasy, thats the thinking of how fat you are now, and you're not longer as beautiful as before...
"Cutie?"
Rafayel's voice woke you from your insecurity. You smile, and caress your round belly lovingly. This is what they're worth fighting for. Then, you get dressed— wearing Rafayel's t-shirt, and wrap your hair in a towel. Then, you walk out from bathroom.
You meet Rafayel in family room— hand holding a palette, eyes focusing on the colour of paints, and smile tugging his lips as he painted the colours on a blank paper.
When you approach him, he smiled widely. "I've been waiting for you."
You, the other hand, was confused. Rafayel guided you to sit on the coach and lean back. You can see some kind of spirit— a kind of burning fire, in his eyes as he prepared some kind of his painting tools.
"What is this for?" You finally asked.
Rafayel kisses you, again, and he raised the t-shirt you wore so your pregnant belly is exposed, round and tender. He sit down under the coach and laying on your pregnant belly, then he said to you while his face on your bare belly, "i've got you a suprised."
His hand caress the belly where his flame of masterpiece live. He looked at you. And you can see his eyes— beautiful as ever, as magnificent as a galaxy. He showered your belly with a kiss, a gentle and warm kiss, that made you felt tickle. You rub his hair, telling him to stop.
The next minutes, Rafayel already taking his palette and sit down under the coach again, while facing my bare pregnant belly. I came to an idea. "You don't intend to..."
"Well, i'm aware that i am."
Rafayel smirked. And i cover my belly, lowering the t-shirt again and pout, "Don't wanna."
He's frown. "Uh, cutiee?"
"I know you wanna paint my belly, right."
"I don't deny it, cutie—"
".... what are you planning about?"
Rafayel sighed. He brought his face closer to mine and give me a kiss on my left cheek, then on my right cheek, then on my nose, my forehead, my chin, and my lips. He looked at me, his right hand caress my cheek, as i nuzzle into his hand.
"You looked off these days," he said. "You looked... insecure about yourself. So i came up with this idea."
"What do you mean by this idea?"
Rafayel smiled. A reassure smile. "I wanna make you think that what happen to you is the best thing that ever happened to us." He kissed your belly again. "The life within you, as the ocean sent his blessing to the life that grows by hope and willing. You are the most magnificent thing that ever happen."
"So don't you think about being not beautiful or worse... for me, you're the best art, the masterpiece that i want for my entire life.
"Hold still," Rafayel murmured, brush hovering over your skin.
You were draped in a soft towel, sitting on the couch with your back against the cushions and belly gently exposed to the sunlight. He knelt between your legs— eyes shining and glittering with focus and something deeper: worship.
His brush dipped into a small palette resting on the coffee table—colors not from tubes, but handmade. Crushed coral for blush-pink warmth. Pearlescent mica dust mixed with oil for that ethereal glow beneath your skin.
"You feel it?" he whispered as bristles first touched you—the very tip gliding over the curve where our child slept safe and warm inside you.
A shimmer followed where he painted—a faint pulse of gold beneath surface light.
"Ocean life remembers life," he said softly. "And water always bring life."
He continued slowly— every stroke deliberate— as swirling patterns began forming across your belly— waves like those off Linkon’s coast at dawn… constellations only visible during deepspace storms… and at center?
A tiny flame cradled in twin hands— one yours, one his— from an old sketch he had thought in his head.
"You're indeed a masterpiece," he breathed, pressing a kiss right above where his art met flesh.
Then looked up at you— his eyes still shining as a galaxy was laying under his eyes. "One day they’ll see this art… and know they were painted by their father’s hands. With every color i have. Including my heart."
"They'll know that they're loved..." you whispered. "Even when they're not born yet."
The brush moved again— slower now, with deeper pressure— as if tracing not just skin, but something sacred beneath.
Rafayel’s breaths were quiet, even. His eyes focused. But his hand… was confident.
He painted something new below the flame in your belly: two small footprints— one slightly ahead of the other— like a child taking their first step into the world.
"Did you feel that?" he whispered suddenly.
You blinked. "Feel what?"
"It moves." His voice dropped— awed. "Just now. When I touched here…" He gently brushed the spot where one tiny footprint ended in paint. "It kicked me back."
A beat passed.
Then— soft as moonlight on water, you felt it too.
A flutter.
Your breath caught.
"It greets me," he choked out between laughs and sobs both. "It recognizes me..."
He pressed both hands to your belly now— not painting anymore— but feeling. Connecting.
"Hello." Rafayel smiled like a madman, but you can feel how much he love and care for this unborn masterpiece. For minutes, after talking and not getting the answer, he took his brush again and continue.
Your face turns red as he keep stroking the brush into his favorite canvas. You can see his belief of the most beautiful art he ever seen. You lift his chin up with your hand and give him a kiss. You will never get tired of kissing him, of loving him.
He put down the palette and brush. Then, he deepen the kiss as he put his hand around your waist. You move aside, letting him take control, and when he was on top of yours, he went to kiss you belly again and again. Then he whisper, "You're so beautiful, my beloved wife, indeed, a majestic masterpiece, a glorious creature, a noble soul..."
His heart pounded beneath your hands where you ran them through his hair— a steady rhythm steadying your own. You could still feel the baby move gently within you— as if listening.
"They know you already," you murmured, tracing the shell of his ear.
Rafayel pressed a tender kiss to your belly— the gesture so soft you felt more breath than lips— then to your chest...
You chukled.
"Don't give up, please..."
Rafayel's face looked more pale than yours. It feels like you wanna laugh on his face but you don't have the power to. You grimaced, cried, moaned of pain, and only grab into his hand tightly and don't wanna let go.
The labor was going longer than expected.
But you were still fighting. Sweat covered your face, hair in damp tendrils around your temples as you leaned back in the hospital bed.
"Are you ready, Mrs?" The midwife came after the water finally broke. Rafayel nods in concern, and you nod with confident. As they moved you into labor room, you realize something.
The permanent painting.
You face turned more pale.
The midwife, realizing that something disturbed your mind, asking. But you didn't answer right away, you still struggling with the pain in your abdomen.
The midwife put nasogastric tube to your nose, and raise your hospital gown, exposing your bare belly to get a CT scan first.
The midwife smiled as she scanned yours, she said, "What a beautiful art."
Your face turns red, but you don't replying anything as the contractions hit all of your body. Rafayel was standing there, hand grabbing into yours, not letting go of it, like its the only thing that anchoring him to this world.
Rafayel's eyes snapped to yours— wide, breath catching.
The paint. His paint.
Still shimmering faintly beneath your skin under the hospital's lamp, the intricate designs of ocean waves, constellations, and that tiny flame cradled in hands still glowing like embers beneath the surface.
Amazement flooded Rafayel’s face as he turned back to you. And just then, a powerful contraction hit. You cried out— and his hand tightened around yours like a vow, "I’m here," he whispered fiercely through your pain. "I will always be here, supporting you. You're doing great."
And then, the midwife smiled convincingly. "Its so beautiful, i believe that the baby wants to get out quickly to see this beauty."
You grab Rafayel's hand as you cried out of pain.
And Rafayel will never let go of your hand.