Like Hell You’d Tell Me No | PB Fic
Like Hell You’d Tell Me No | PB fic
(tommyshelby x fem!reader – s2 era)
Summary: When Y/N gets sent to Birmingham for her own protection, the last thing she expects is to be dropped into the middle of Shelby territory, especially under the icy watch of one Thomas Shelby. But somehow, she keeps breaking his rules... and somehow, he lets her. Between unannounced office visits, drunken nights in his chair, and a new bestie in Ada Shelby, Y/N is stirring up more than just trouble. And when things start to heat up between her and Tommy, they might just find themselves caught in a moment that neither of them is quite ready for, yet.
A/N: okay so, I always write Harry (literally always), but while prepping for my internship I decided to finally watch Peaky Blinders... and now I’m unwell. Like, genuinely not okay. Tommy Shelby lives in my head rent-free and I can’t make him leave. 😭
So instead of lesson planning like a responsible adult, this little fic idea basically wrote itself at 1AM with Taylor Swift playing in the background lol. Not sure if I’ll continue this or if I’ll dabble in multiple fandoms, but I had fun writing it and wanted to share in case anyone else is also deep in their Peaky Blinders phase
Word Count: 4147
Warnings:
Light drinking
Mentions of past threats/harassment (non-graphic)
Protective/possessive behavior (from Tommy, ofc)
Language (it’s Peaky Blinders, there’s swearing lol)
Slow-burn tension and emotional build-up
Mentions of minor violence (one punch, classic Tommy move)
Unresolved romantic tension (aka cliffhanger ending 😌)
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Tommy just… stares.
The silence in the room stretched, thick as the smoke curling from his cigarette. Papers sat idle in front of him, ignored now. The man across the desk – some poor bastard talking percentages – had gone completely still, mouth half-open like he was about to continue his pitch until she appeared out of nowhere.
She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she’d walked into a pub instead of the Shelby Company office. Young, maybe mid-twenties, wearing a travel-worn coat and scuffed boots. There was something in her look. Not arrogance. Just no fear. Like she'd met worse than a room full of Shelbys.
“Door was open,” she said again, tilting her head. “Didn’t think it was a problem.”
Arthur snorted behind her. “Bloody hell, she’s brave.”
Polly didn’t say a word, but the look on her face was a mix of amusement and caution. Always watching.
Tommy took a slow drag, tapped ash into the tray. “You must be Y/N.”
“Yeah,” she said, stepping in without being asked. “You must be Tommy, Thomas Shelby.”
“Bit early to be on first-name terms.”
“Bit late not to be,” she replied, dropping her bag by the wall like she belonged there. “You owe my brother a favor. I’m the favor.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. Not from her mouth. Not from anyone, really. But the message had come a few days ago, and he’d read it twice just to be sure. Michael Carter. They’d served together. Pulled him out of a trench once. Didn’t talk much after the war, but when a man like that writes and says his sister’s in trouble, you pay attention. You don’t say no.
“What kind of trouble?”
She shrugged. “The vague kind. London’s full of it. Wrong place, wrong time. Few names I shouldn’t have known, a few blokes who didn’t like me walking away.”
Tommy leaned back in his chair. “You running?”
“I’d call it more of a stroll,” she said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring much baggage.”
He looked at her. Really looked. She was tired but not broken. Something restless behind her eyes. There was a fight in her, the kind that either got people killed or made them dangerous friends. He wasn’t sure which yet.
“You’ll stay above the shop,” he said after a pause. “Spare room. Polly’ll take you up.”
Y/N glanced toward Polly, who gave a small nod.
Tommy picked up his pen again, glancing at the man across from him who’d gone completely pale. “Now, if we’re done with the interruptions–”
“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, already walking off.
“Don’t wander.”
She turned in the doorway, gave a small smirk. “No promises.”
Polly followed her out a moment later, her heels sharp on the floorboards.
Arthur leaned in with a low whistle. “She’s got some fire, that one.”
Tommy didn’t answer. He was staring at the spot she’d been standing in. His jaw clenched as he exhaled smoke through his nose.
“She gonna be trouble?” Arthur asked.
“She already is,” Tommy said quietly, then went back to pretending to listen to the pitch in front of him.
--
Upstairs, Y/N was already sizing up the space. The spare room was clean enough. Not warm, but not cold either. Polly stood by the door, watching.
“You’re lucky,” Polly said finally. “He doesn’t like people in his office. Doesn’t like people full stop.”
Y/N looked around, then dropped onto the bed with a soft thump. “I’ll keep out of his way.” Polly gave a dry smile. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”
Downstairs, Tommy stubbed out his cigarette, but his hand hovered near the tin for another. He didn’t light it. Just sat there, staring at the door where she’d come in like a storm in worn boots and sharp words.
A favor owed, he thought. Just a favor.
But he already knew better.
The days that followed proved it. She didn’t just stay in the spare room. She moved through the betting shop like she’d always been there. Tommy had told himself he’d figure out what to do with her once things settled, once he had time. But time didn’t slow for the Shelbys. And she didn’t wait for permission.
“You know there’s a kettle in the back, right?” she asked one morning, walking into his office without knocking. Again. She set a chipped mug down on the desk like it was hers to do so. “You don’t have to drink your weight in whisky before noon.”
Tommy looked up slowly. “You bring tea to every man who gives you a place to sleep?”
“Only the grumpy ones,” she said, hands in the pockets of her skirt. “Which is lucky for you.”
He didn’t answer, just stared at the steam curling from the cup.
She lingered a second longer, then turned to leave. “Try not to scowl into it too hard. Might go bitter.”
That was the third time that week she’d barged in. Polly had stopped bothering to intervene. Arthur found it funny. John asked if she had a death wish.
Tommy just drank the tea.
It wasn’t that she was rude. She just didn’t care about the little rules. Rules like knocking before you enter a room that belongs to Thomas Shelby. Rules like not sitting in the man’s chair while drunk at the end of a long day.
Which she did.
It was Friday, the shop was quiet, and she had found the whisky in the cabinet behind the front desk. Arthur had offered her a glass earlier. She’d declined then. Hours later, she helped herself.
Tommy walked in to find her kicked back in his chair, legs tucked under her, nursing a glass. Her boots were off and resting on the floor beside her. She looked comfortable. Dangerous thing to be in his space.
“You’re in my chair,” he said.
She turned her head lazily. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”
He didn’t say anything. He looked at her for a moment, then walked to the other side of the room. Took off his coat, hung it up. Sat on the edge of the desk, lit a cigarette. The quiet filled the space between them.
“You always drink alone?” he asked finally.
“I wasn’t alone,” she said. “You came in.”
Arthur came by halfway through and nearly choked on his laughter. John followed, paused in the doorway, gave a long low whistle.
“She’s got some bloody nerve,” John said under his breath.
Tommy said nothing. Just exhaled a long stream of smoke and looked at the ceiling.
After a few minutes, she stood, wobbling just a bit, and set the glass down neatly on the desk.
“Thanks for not shouting,” she said. “It’s rare.”
He watched her as she walked out, barefoot, leaving the smell of whisky and some kind of sweet soap in her wake.
The door clicked shut.
Arthur leaned closer to Tommy after a beat. “You gonna let her get away with that?”
Tommy didn’t look at him. “She’s not doing any harm.”
John raised an eyebrow. “She was in your chair, brother.”
Tommy stubbed out his cigarette. “She’s not in it now.”
That was how it was. She floated in and out of the betting shop like smoke, slipping through the cracks no one else dared to touch. She was younger, yes. Full of jokes and sudden laughter. The kind that didn’t come from politeness but from deep inside, like she refused to let the world make her quiet.
He didn’t know what to make of her yet. But he noticed things. The way she talked to everyone. The way she read newspapers he hadn’t even opened yet. The way she knew how to patch a rip in her own coat with needle and thread without making a fuss. Like she’d done it a hundred times.
She didn’t belong here. Not really. But she was here. And the longer she stayed, the more it felt like a storm had rolled in and decided to settle.
He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her. But he knew sending her away wasn’t an option anymore. That thought sat in the back of his mind the night Arthur burst through his office door, out of breath and sweating.
“She’s at the Garrison,” he said. “Alone. Some bloke’s not takin’ the hint.”
Tommy didn’t say anything. He stood, grabbed his coat, and walked past Arthur without a word. His pace was calm, but his steps were hard. Each one louder than the last on the wooden stairs.
The Garrison wasn’t far, but it felt like miles. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Inside, the music was low and the laughter was higher than usual. A Friday night crowd. Voices blurred together until one stood out.
“Come on, sweetheart,” a man was saying. “Don’t be so bloody cold.”
Tommy moved through the crowd like smoke. He didn’t shove. Didn’t speak. Just walked until the man came into view. Broad-shouldered, older, drunk. Y/N was backed against the wall near the end of the bar, her arms crossed tight and chin lifted. She wasn’t scared, but she wasn’t laughing either.
“I said no,” she repeated, voice firm.
“And I said I don’t care,” the man replied, hand brushing against her arm again.
Tommy didn’t stop walking. The man didn’t see him coming. One second he was smirking, the next he was on the ground, nose caved in and blood gushing. No warning. No words.
The room went quiet.
Tommy didn’t look down. He turned to Y/N, who hadn’t moved. Her face had gone pale.
“Come on,” he said.
She followed him out into the street without arguing. The cold hit her hard, cutting through the whisky in her blood. They walked in silence for a few blocks, her footsteps uneven beside his. She hadn’t even grabbed her coat.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said finally.
He didn’t look at her. “Yes. I did.”
She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I could’ve handled it.”
“I’m sure,” he said, voice flat. “But, he touched you.”
She stopped walking. He stopped too, turning to face her.
“I don’t need a fucking bodyguard, Tommy.”
“No,” he said. “You need someone to keep you alive. That’s me now.”
She stared at him, jaw tight, but her voice cracked when she spoke again. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
He looked at her. Really looked. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wind-blown, and her eyes shining in that way they did when she was holding too much in. She was trying to be tough, but her hands were shaking.
He stepped closer, calm now. “You all right?”
She looked away. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“It wasn’t the first time someone got too close.”
Tommy’s jaw clenched. His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t say what he wanted to say. That London was behind her, but its shadows were still clinging. That he should’ve never let her walk out alone. That the second he got word she was in danger, his heart had pounded like it hadn’t since France.
Instead, he took a breath and said, “Next time you go out, you take someone with you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Arthur? Polly?”
“Me,” he said. “Preferably.”
The silence stretched between them, and something shifted in her face. Not fear. Not defiance. Just something quieter.
“Right,” she said. “Okay.”
He nodded once, then turned and kept walking. She followed.
The streets of Birmingham were dark, damp, full of half-spoken threats. But she walked beside him like it was the safest place she’d ever been.
The next morning, Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor of the spare room, trying to make sense of the mess she called her belongings. Half-unpacked bags, a few folded letters, and a pair of boots still caked in city grime. She was tugging a comb through her hair when there was a knock on the door. “Mind if I come in?” came a voice.
Y/N turned to see a woman leaning in the doorway, lipstick perfect, hair pinned up tight like she meant business even on a quiet day. She looked familiar in that way all the Shelbys did.
“Ada, right?” Y/N said.
“That’s me. Figured it was about time we had a proper chat,” Ada replied, stepping in without waiting. “They’ve all been talking about you.”
“Yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”
Ada grinned. “Only if you hate compliments wrapped in irritation.”
She handed over two cups of something that smelled strong enough to kick. Y/N took one with a grateful nod.
“Whiskey in the coffee?” Y/N asked.
“Bit of both. It’s the Shelby way.”
They sat near the window, legs stretched out, warmth settling into the space.
“You’re not like them,” Ada said after a moment. “Not from here. Not stuck in it like the rest of us.”
Y/N gave a little shrug. “London’s not exactly better.”
“No, but you’ve still got light in your eyes,” Ada said. “Most people around here have it beaten out of them by twenty.”
Y/N looked out the window. “I don’t know about light. I just don’t see the point in pretending everything’s always awful.”
Ada sipped from her cup. “That’s what I mean. You’re a bloody breath of fresh air. Especially among all these grumpy bastards.”
Y/N laughed. “Speak for yourself. You’re just as sharp.”
“I get it from my mother. And years of watching Tommy scowl at paperwork.”
At the mention of his name, Y/N glanced away, but Ada noticed. Of course she did.
“He’s different with you,” Ada said.
Y/N frowned. “Different how?”
Ada leaned in, smug. “Less growling. More… I don’t know. Breathing.”
“You’re making things up.”
“I’m not.” She pointed her cup at Y/N. “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, you know that?”
Y/N blinked, actually blinked, and then laughed into her drink. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” Ada said. “He doesn’t even let me in his office unannounced.”
Y/N bit her lip. “Maybe he’s just tired of telling me off.”
“No. That’s not it.” Ada gave her a long look. “He trusts you.”
There was a weight in those words Y/N hadn’t expected. She didn’t answer right away. Trust wasn’t something she’d had a lot of lately. It felt strange to even think about.
“He walked me home last night,” Y/N said quietly. “After a man at the Garrison got pushy.”
Ada nodded. “I heard. Arthur said Tommy didn’t say a word. Just broke the bloke’s nose and left.”
Y/N stared down into her mug. “He didn’t even look angry. That’s what got me.”
Ada tilted her head. “That’s worse, you know. Means he meant it.”
Y/N smiled faintly. “I know it’s just a favor, what he’s doing. Letting me stay. Letting me be here.”
Ada stood and stretched. “It started out that way, but i believe it has turned into more. That’s why it matters.”
She walked toward the door, then turned. “You’re good for him. Whether he admits it or not.”
Y/N stayed by the window after she left. The coffee had gone cold, but she held it anyway, hands wrapped around something solid.
Out in the street, she caught sight of Tommy crossing to the shop, coat pulled close, face unreadable as ever.
She watched him for a second too long. Then she looked away, heart skipping in a way she pretended not to notice.
By the time evening came, the betting shop had been cleared out, lanterns strung up, and Polly’s birthday turned into one of those Shelby nights that started quiet and always ended with someone singing out of tune. Y/N wasn’t much of a drinker, but it was hard to say no when John poured heavy and Polly kept pressing glasses into her hand with a look that said she’d take offense otherwise.
She’d laughed too hard, danced once with Ada, twice with Arthur, and ended up slipping out when her head started to spin and the voices all blurred into one. The music still floated through the floorboards when she made her way up the stairs and pushed open the office door.
She didn’t even bother with the lights. The soft glow from the hallway was enough. She crossed the room like it was muscle memory now and dropped into the chair behind the desk. His chair. She tucked one leg under herself and took a slow sip from the bottle she’d brought up.
The first sip burned. The second didn’t.
She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, listening to the muffled laughter below, the distant clink of glasses. The door creaked after a few minutes. She didn’t open her eyes.
“Told you I like your chair,” she said lazily.
Tommy stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “You’ve got a habit.”
“I’ve got nowhere else that’s quiet,” she replied.
He walked across the room and sat on the edge of the desk, facing her. No coat, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edge of his tattoo. His tie was loose. He looked like he’d stopped pretending to be the man everyone thought he had to be.
She glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?”
He shrugged. “They won’t miss me for a few minutes.”
She tilted the bottle toward him. “Want some?”
“I’ve had enough.”
“Then keep me company.”
So he did. They sat in the kind of silence that had weight but no pressure. She traced a line in the wood grain of the desk with her finger, then spoke, soft and unguarded.
“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on her face.
“I used to think London was it,” she went on. “Then everything went to shit. I came here thinking it’d be worse. But now I just feel stuck in between.”
She looked down. “And I hate feeling like a guest. Like I’m just waiting for someone to tell me it’s time to go.”
“You’re not a guest,” Tommy said.
“Then what am I?”
He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t answer either.
She looked at him, really looked. The way his eyes softened in moments like this, when no one else was around to see. How still he went when he let his guard down. Like it scared him more than war ever had.
“You don’t talk much,” she said.
“I say what needs saying.”
“Right.” She took another sip. “But you listen.”
Their eyes met. Her thumb brushed the side of the glass, and his fingers reached out absently to take it from her. Their hands touched – just a second – but it was enough to make her chest tighten.
He set the bottle down without breaking the gaze. Neither moved.
“Why are you always so calm?” she whispered.
“I’m not.”
His voice was low. Closer now. She hadn’t noticed how near he’d leaned until she could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of tobacco and something colder underneath.
Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair.
His hand was resting near hers on the desk. Not quite touching. But close.
Too close. Not close enough.
The silence pulled tight between them. She wasn’t sure who was holding it there, but it felt deliberate, like something balanced on the edge of a blade.
She didn’t move her hand.
Tommy shifted closer, the worn fabric of his sleeve brushing hers. Her breath caught. He didn’t look at her yet, not directly – his eyes stayed on the papers scattered across the desk like they meant something. Like any of this was still about business.
“Don’t smoke in here,” she said quietly, not looking at him either.
“I’m not.”
“You were earlier. Without me.”
He didn’t argue. Just leaned back the slightest bit, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smile, but didn’t. His voice stayed low.
“You always this jumpy around men, or just me?”
She turned her head. Met his eyes. “You always this full of yourself, or just with women who talk back?”
There was a flicker in his expression, something like approval, maybe amusement. Maybe something sharper underneath.
“Maybe I like women who talk back.”
“Maybe you like trouble.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest second. “I’m in the business of it.”
That pull in her gut tightened. Her fingers curled harder around the arm of the chair, grounding herself. It wasn’t enough.
The room had gone quiet again, except for the tick of the clock on the mantel and the soft hum of music and voices seeping in from the hallway. The party still spun on without them, but here it felt like everything had narrowed to the space between their hands.
She turned slightly, just enough that her knee brushed his. She didn’t apologize. Neither did he.
“Thomas.”
He lifted his eyes again. That look he gave her made her forget what she was about to say. Or maybe she hadn’t planned to say anything at all.
He leaned in. Slowly, like he wanted her to see it coming. His breath was warm against her cheek, and there was that scent again – tobacco, sharp gin, and something colder. Something metallic, like the edge of a coin.
The air between them thickened. She could feel her pulse in her throat, in her fingertips.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is this the part where you kiss me, or tell me I’ve crossed a line?”
Tommy’s eyes darkened, his focus slipping to her lips, then back up. A slow smirk curved his mouth, not the cruel one he used in business, not the charming one he pulled out for show. This one was quieter. Closer to real.
He leaned in just a little more.
Then came the knock.
Three sharp raps on the doorframe.
“You two decent?”
Ada’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.
Y/N jerked back in her chair, heat rushing to her face as if she’d been caught doing something she hadn’t even done.
Tommy straightened slowly, not looking away from her. The smirk was gone. What replaced it was something harder to name. Something held tight behind his eyes.
“Yeah,” he called, not loud. “We’re decent.”
Ada poked her head in, grin wide, eyes darting between them. “Well, don’t let me interrupt whatever this was.”
“It was nothing,” Y/N said too quickly. She cleared her throat. “Just work.”
“Right.” Ada’s grin didn’t budge. “You’re missing the part where Finn tries to charm the Americans. It’s going about as well as you’d expect.”
Tommy gave a short nod. “We’ll be out soon.”
Ada raised a brow but didn’t push. “Suit yourselves.” She ducked out again.
The silence came back, heavier this time.
Y/N stood, smoothing her skirt like it might help her pretend nothing had happened. Nothing almost had.
Tommy watched her. Didn’t say anything at first.
She didn’t meet his eyes.
“I should–” she started.
“Go back to the party,” he said softly.
She looked at him then.
“We’ll finish this later.”
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖
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post-argument fic, reader's still mad at wriothesley, the yearning and desperation from wriothesley is heavy in this one lul, established relationship, suggestive comments
brief biker!wriothesley thought.
disagreements don't happen often between you and wriothesley. you are both level-headed enough to maintain composure whilst talking through any issues, but in the scarce moments where it snowballs into something heated, it results in cold shoulders and uncomfortable silences born from residual anger.
wriothesley, who likes to be direct and to resolve things as they occur, lingers around you, hesitant to anger you more than he already has. he downright loathes how you walk on eggshells around him, unable to hold his gaze. in moments like these, he wants nothing more than just to pull you close and kiss you until you forgive him, bleeding apologies until you mend him with your forgiveness.
unfortunately for him, you had promised to go out for dinner with some of your mutual friends the night after your tense argument.
wriothesley's already there when you come straight from work, watching as you greet everyone with a big smile and wave, settling into the empty space next to him. all he gets is a tiny grin before your attention is swept away by furina, who sits directly in front of you.
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if you don't look him in the eye for longer than five seconds, he might dissolve in his seat.
miraculously, wriothesley survives the torturous evening, and it's difficult to pretend like he isn't excited about going home and having you all to himself. he farewells everyone a little too enthusiastically, and drags you away with him before they can convince you to stay for drinks.
(though, if you wanted to, he would have complied and bitten back his complaints, but judging by the way you follow him without any reluctance, home was the right direction.)
since your shared car was dropped off for service, the only way of getting home was wriothesley's motorbike. he helps you on and you murmur a shy 'thank you' underneath your breath when he puts your helmet on for you, only getting on when you're safely secured and comfortable in your seat.
however, unlike usual when your arms would circle around his muscular torso tightly, your grip lingers awkwardly by his sides.
"doll, you need to hold on tight," he warns, starting the engine. you comply ever so slightly, ghosting your arms around him.
for wriothesley, who prioritises your safety more than anything else, it isn't good enough, so he gently pulls you forward, wrapping your arms around him himself. without another word, he drives off, catching you off guard. he hears a small yelp from behind him before your arms snake around him tightly.
wriothesley's sure he'll get a light scolding and a punch to the arm for scaring you like that, but as long as he gets to look you in the eye, he'll take whatever you throw at him.
bonus:
when you're back in the safety of your home, you lightly shove your helmet at his chest and begin scolding him for scaring you like that, but all he does is wolfishly smile at you.
"i warned you, gorgeous, that's what happens when you don't listen to me."
you huff, sliding off the leather seat, clutching your bag to your side, but wriothesley doesn't let you go far, pulling you back in to stand in between his legs.
"still mad at me?" his hands find purchase at your hips. you glance into his icy eyes before looking aside. "i'm sorry, i'll say it as many times as i need to. when are you gonna find it in your heart to forgive me?"
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"so get started."
"do you take other means of compensation?" his hands sneak under your shirt to rest on your waist and you immediately catch his wrists before he can go any further.
"are you even trying to apologise?"
he snickers. "i'm sorry."
© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
Stan skz, stan chaos
dear, ♡
— cyno art
from helpless stares to sleepless nights, the ever-serious cyno finds himself dealing with the toughest problem of all: his feelings for you.
oh archon, just how did this happen?
CYNO X GN!READER ♡ MODERN AU, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS!
chapter one — ruins
interlude, what you've done to me.
chapter two —
interlude, we're friends.
chapter three —
interlude, but i like your smile.
chapter four —
interlude, my youth.
chapter five —
interlude, my life.
taglist:
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Under His Skin Masterlist
Pairing: Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow (Nolanverse Batman) x F Reader
Dr. Jonathan Crane begins his first day at Arkham Asylum, quietly observing Chief Administrator Dr. Ares Katsaros and his routines. He meets Ares’s fiancée--a woman who unsettles him with her calm composure and lack of fear. Fascinated, Crane begins planning Ares’s downfall while trying to deciding what to do with the woman attached to him.
Dark themes are ahead...
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
angel baby | blue lock
— bllk boys as scenes/dialogues i’ve seen on tiktok
characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, barou shouei x gn! reader
genre/warning: fluff, swearings, a small mention of violence
a/n: repost bcs tumblr is being a lil btch to me :/ also ill put the read more thing later I PROMISE but for now i just wanna post this 😭
isagi where the two of you somehow, one way or another, went through a rather harsh argument that almost lead to a breakup but he moves to grab a hold on your hands and intertwine your fingers together, navy blue irises smouldering with determination as he looks at you in the eyes, “no. i will not give up on you. you’re worth it, y/n. you always have been. i don’t care how long it takes but i’m gonna learn how to devour love you the right way. i’m not going anywhere.”
bachira where he playfully challenges you to a staring contest, his bright amber eyes burning into your own. his gaze so intense yet so loving it makes your eyes shy away, breaking eye contact as heat rushes to every part of your body (especially your cheeks which do not go unnoticed by your beloved meguru). a small curl of a teasing smirk appears on his face as he uses a knuckle to guide your eyes back to him by hooking it under your chin, “what’s wrong, honey? you’re getting all shy on me now, hm?”
reo where you’re feeling restless on one particular night, eyes wide open and body refusing to rest as you toss and turn in your bed. you stare blankly at literally nothing when suddenly the sound of your phone ringing enters your ears. reaching over to grab your phone on the bedside table, you quickly slide your finger on the screen when you see who’s calling. “hello?” you start. “i knew it. you can’t sleep, can you, baby?” his voice, deep and soothing to your ears says. you sigh, he knows you so well it’s kinda scary. “yeah, well… its 3 am so shouldn’t you be sleeping, reo?” you mutter. “with you? yes.” he replies back.
nagi where you come to his football match like you always do to support him, eyes immediately gravitate towards the snowy haired striker on the field like a strong magnetic pull. his smoky dark eyes sweep over the seats until they fall on you, his face contorting to a conflicted one; eyebrows furrowed, mouth pulling into a slight pouty frown that he himself probably doesn’t realize. oh, right. you’re not wearing his jersey. you watch as he jogs over to where his team’s manager is standing while holding a bag that seemed to be his. digging into it, he pulls out a spare jersey with his number and name on it before walking over to you. huffing slightly, you ignore the stares of almost everyone in the stadium with a blush on your face as he helps you put the jersey on. slowly blinking his eyes like an affectionate cat, he kisses you on the cheek with a murmur of “now you look even cuter, pretty thing.”
rin where the two of you got invited to a party by a friend, and you decide to dress up a little more than usual. twirling yourself in front of the mirror, you catch the teal gaze belonging to a certain striker in the mirror. “what do you think?” you inquire. he doesn’t say anything, only opts to intensely stare at your figure before he approaches you. opening a drawer nearby, he pulls out some decorative pieces before wearing them on his lithe fingers. “rings?” you ask with a confused tilt of your head. he only nods at your outfit, “just feeling like i’ll be knocking out a few guys tonight.”
barou where you accidentally got yourself injured to the point you have to limp your way to places. leaning your weight on the wall beside you, you warily eye him as he turns his back to you and squats down. you chuckle nervously, "no, it's fine, shouei. i'm heavy anyways." after hearing your absolutely ridiculous statement, he glances back to give you the stinkiest glare known to mankind. "y/n, you're not even half my warm-up weight. now get your ass on my back right now."
“Don’t let go…”
It breaks B’s heart that A says it like a question. Like there’s even the smallest chance that they would leave.
“I won’t.” B says, barely holding their sobs in. A is shaking like a leaf in B’s lap and they shift to pull the jacket closer around them. The blood is starting to seep through the makeshift bandages and B can feel it staining their own skin and clothes.
“I won’t leave. I’m not gonna let go, I’ll stay, I’ll-”
A tear slips down and lands on A’s face and this time B can’t hold it in. They sob and whimper in the same breath, curling over A like they’re nursing a wound of their own.
“Why are you crying?” A whispers, slurring on the words. They sound sleepy.
“I’m… I’m not, I- … You’re going to be fine.”
B takes a shaky breath and collects themself and then says again, more firmly.
“You’re going to be fine.”
A looks up at B, searches their eyes sadly for a moment before giving in to their heavy lids and closes their eyes.
“Ok.”
AN UNEXPECTED REPLACEMENT. ayato
pairing; ayato x fem!reader
genre; strangers to not-so-lovers au, slight crack, fluff and angst (only if you squint hard enough).
word count; 11.6k (i've spent too much hours on this omg)
summary; who would have thought that you, the younger sister of a lowly clan far from inazuma city, would end up in a blind date with the kamisato ayato? the instructions were simple; make an appearance on the behalf of your sister, do what she requested you to do, and pretend as if nothing happened the day after. the main objective? leave a bad impression on him.
content; nobleman!ayato, mentions of some inazuma characters, slight mentions of death, some made up inazuma lore (especially of the reader clan), mentions of manipulation, sir kamisato is whipped, some kissing is thrown in there, there's a tension between these two idiots btw and uhh, this fic has so many clichés and is so unrealistic so please bear with it :3
notes; the main theme of this fic is heavily inspired by a business proposal because i am obsessed with the show except that all of these are happening in inazuma settings and i am an ayato simp. also, this is heavily unedited ;;
"brother," the soft voice of his younger sister was all too familiar, the way she called him since they were young made him knew instantly that it was indeed ayaka's voice. well, he technically did have ayaka as his only sibling, and maybe, thoma was also considered as his partner in crime and his brother in some way.
he hummed, slightly acknowledging his sister presence in his room. although the paperwork was too much on days like this, especially when it was nearing the annual inazuma festival, he didn't let his stress took over his exhausted state. instead, he stood up and went to ayaka, leaving his study a mess, patting her head multiple times and gave her a small smile, because hearing someone's voice after a tiring day made his mood a little bit better, precisely when it came to his own family.
"is there something you would like to talk about?" the slight croak in ayato's voice made ayaka looked up at him, pitying his brother even more than her own self. on days like this, both of them had a lot of works to do, but nothing could compare with the burden her brother had to carry alone.
the tiredness was very much evident in the way ayato took a heavy breath from time to time, waiting patiently as to what she would like to voice out, and this made ayaka questioned her decision.
still, she had already discussed what had been weighing her mind from the start with thoma, and now that thoma was also on the same team as her, might as well she braced herself and quickly went through her thoughts over and over again before ultimately told ayato what she and thoma had been planning all this time.
"brother, i would like to discuss.. some things with you. and please, take this with a grain of salt," how could ayato say no? when his sister looked at him with a look he always had a soft spot in his heart, "i am all ears."
"thoma and i.. have been arranging some affairs regarding our clan and uhm, it heavily involves you and mother's last request," the way ayaka stuttered because of her nervousness and when he heard the last words came out from his sister's mouth, he immediately knew, what affairs she had brought up into her hands.
specifically, marriage affairs.
of course, ayato didn't actually hate the idea, the only thing he slightly disliked was how almost everyone he had been set up with only came to him because of his social status, and it looked like he would be going to yet another date with some random girl in inazuma.
sensing how quiet and awkward the air was, ayaka quickly regretted killing his mood. mentally blaming herself, she should have known better than telling ayato about this matter once again, even at times like this when the clan was super busy.
"i am sorry if i acted carelessly when you are currently rushing out to fulfil your duties, but thoma and i think you should unwind once in a while and—," ayaka stopped herself from blabbering too much, seeing how ayato looked at him lifelessly, she couldn't read his expressions and this was definitely a bad sign, "brother, i'll just cancel our plan. is that okay with you—
"no," ayato cut her off, knowing ayaka too well as if he knew himself, he knew that his little sister slowly taking the blame onto her, and he hated that the most, especially when ayaka actually came with the efforts of making him having his own family as per their mother's wish on her deathbed although he knew she was busy as him and still made her time to do what the best for him, as well as for the clan.
"i will go. you are right after all. i should definitely come out and socialise, it has been quite a stressful week for me too," he gave ayaka a timid nod, "you and thoma have done so much to me, why should i turn down you and mother's request, right?" a sudden, small hug by ayaka was comforting enough for him. the pain of losing their mother suddenly resurfacing and ayato pushed the negative feeling, he knew ayaka tried her best and so did he.
the way ayaka looked up at him with a mix of joy and pain at the same time made his heart shattered into pieces.
both of them were strong, those were the last words from their mother.
"so, who is this person i'm meeting up with?" he chuckled into the hug, and he definitely didn't want to disappoint his mother from above.
the loud slam from the door behind you almost left you flinched and hurt yourself from banging your knees with the lower part of the wooden table. a sigh escaped you momentarily and you quickly thanked the archons that your reflexes were fast enough.
"what brings you here? i almost have a heart attack because of you," who would barge into your room other than your own sister? the supposedly head of your family clan—which wasn't really that powerful—was the only one who loved interrupting your privacy, even in your room. she was unlike any other ladies from other clans, so petty and sometimes, you were so sure that your sister didn't like the idea of being the one who should take care of the things in your family.
the duty of overlooking the shrines at the southwest part of the whole yashiori island was divided to three other clans beside yours. to say that your family clan wasn't that influential like the six main clans, including the tri-comission, in inazuma was an understatement and you were perfectly fine with that.
"y/n, my beloved little sister," her whiny voice resonated through your small room and you ultimately could practically see why your sister suddenly acted super childish, hugging you almost too tight and choking you to death.
you didn't want to exaggerate, but honestly, sometimes her behaviour made you felt slightly ashamed being a part of her sibling. at least she was the mood maker in the household.
"what do you want? i can sniff your hidden agenda from miles away," pushing her away was a bad move, not when your sister turned to you with such a dramatic face and faked her teary eyes after that.
"y/n," you almost cringed at the clinginess your sister exerted, something about this made you thought of what had possibly came up when your sister was so desperate like this.
"how to end this?" she sighed, frowning seeing you acted uninterested when the problem was way bigger for her than you would have initially thought, "well, you see," her hands grabbed your shoulder, slightly forced you to listen her storytelling about what happened, "i just came back from lunch with mother."
"and?"
"for god's sake, listen to me thoroughly on this one. it's not like i am wasting your precious time," she, indeed, was wasting your precious time, but again, she was your sister, and her stories often peaked your interest when you actually decided to hear her words.
"she told me to go to a blind date," your eyes couldn't stop themselves from widening, shocked at hearing the news came out from your sister's mouth, the one and only who you knew was the first person who objected the theme of blind dates and arranged marriages.
"what?!" you half-screamed when her words were finally registering inside your brain, "are you saying that you aren't going to stay single anymore?" your unfiltered words came out before you could actually comprehend what you had accidentally said, and for the first time in your life, you couldn't believe that your sister was going to actually go on a blind date.
a slap to your back was felt and a heavy glare was sent towards your sister, "haven't i already said it is a blind date? that doesn't mean i am going to accept ayato," she rolled her eyes, annoyed that you said something too truthful and hurt her pride.
"what do you mean ayato? is it kamisato ayato?!" you shouldn't freak out more than you already were, but you just couldn't help yourself when shocking news came tumbling to you, "lord kamisato who you hate for more than twenty years?! the yashiro commissioner?!"
"calm down," seeing you panicked now made her day felt much more worse than the uneventful day of ayato being her first childhood enemy back when your family was still living in inazuma city. your sister suddenly felt irritated recalling all the memories of ayato stirring around her life back then, and now she was set up with him? oh, what a cheery on top!
and although ayato might not remember your sister anymore, the deeds he did back then—embarrassing her in front of ayaka, laughing at your sister demeanor and appearance, and worst, making a mess with the first pair of good shoes she had—weren't something she could easily shrug off.
and no matter how drastically ayato had changed from what she heard so far—humble, kind, mature, basically unlike the ayato from her livid memories—since he became the commissioner and took the people trust he was forced into at such a young age, your sister would always scoff every single time she heard someone praising ayato.
"what's the point of me going to the date when all i have always believed in is fate," her shoulders dropped, hands clamping at your face, her eyes somewhat shone in a mischievous light and you were a little confused as to her response to this.
but something about this made you almost rolling onto the floor, you just couldn't imagine how awkward the date would have been and imagining your sister comical face made you snorted, "well, i wish you a really have a nice day to you, wait, i mean have a nice date," you couldn't contain your laugh anymore, chuckling halfway when she once again palmed your face in her hands, while sending back the infamous mischievous smile of her to you. uh oh, you thought.
"what insane plan have you think of this time?" your sister was cunning as a fox, you knew her trait since day one, but the nervous laugh you let out seeing her eyes turned suddenly brighter made your stomach churned at the sight. something about this was off.
"my kindest sister in the whole world," you definitely didn't like where this was going, something was definitely off when her tone changed, "i've made up my mind, so please, go to the blind date in my regards."
you almost, almost pushed your sister hard enough for her to fall. luckily, your body was too stunned. unluckily, you accidentally hit her arms too hard that she winced in pain.
"are you out of your mind?!" your voice might have been heard throughout the whole house, because the next moment your sister asked you to keep silent and begging her eyes out for you to do what she intended at the first place.
"no," you shook your head, "no, no, there's no way i am the one going to that date when i barely know lord kamisato. and from what i have remembered correctly, you are the one who should go. not me," you emphasised word by word, covering up your panic when all you wanted to do was cursing your sister and let out inappropriate words.
"it is a blind date, y/n. you shouldn't know that much about your date partner, right?" she still didn't back down, giving you those eyes that made you having the urge to rip them out of their sockets, "no! i said no, and that's enough," you could be stubborn if you wanted to, "there's no way i am going to help you. when mother literally told you about this on her own," you ignored her pleading, smoothly went to your study and continuing what you had abandoned before your sister came into your room without your approval.
now that you thought of it, how rude of her.
you didn't mean to stay mad at her, but a blind date with the head clan of another, in which a much more powerful clan, didn't sound a great idea to you.
you huffed, scrunched your nose before ultimately attempting to kick your sister out of your room, "wait, wait. i'll reward you!"
"do you really think that this type of manipulation is going to work out on me? get out of my room, sister," you dragged her body with you and opened the door, "don't you have any bits of sympathy left in you? because you have always knew of my hatred towards ayato—
"no, no, no. guilt tripping isn't going to work out on me either," you nudged her body forward and closed the door, the continuous banging surely gave you a headache but you decided to just ignore your sister.
it should be easy, you were born for it.
"i'll give you some mora for you to pay your compensation to the kujou clan," your mind stopped functioning, and before you knew it, you instinctually opened the door to see her standing tall in front of the door, "i know you aren't really having a good financial recovery after all you did to oppose the vision hunt decree and when your name was up there in the most wanted list. but now that the almighty shogun has abolished the decree, i'm sure it is the right time for you to pay back the compensation you promised a long time ago when you accidentally hurt one of the soldiers from that clan," your sister definitely knew how to play her cards well, because you were now hesitant and didn't like the way how she was smiling winningly.
you didn't mean to hurt that poor soldier, it was just that you didn't bear to see the vision of your mother's was ripped out from her, and you accidentally awakened your power to scare the unfortunate soldier.
only to know that the soldier was under the kujou clan and a representative was sent for you to prove your loyalty towards the shogun in form of compensation after all the ruckus ended.
the fact that you were undergoing a financial problem didn't help you at all. the price of paying back what you had done to the soldier was worthy more than your monthly allowance.
you had promised yourself to not drag any of your family members into this matter, no matter how many times your mother insisted that she could pay on your behalf, you often rejected her offer which resulted in her giving up to persuade you.
so now, when you really needed it the most, and the chance was right there in front of your very own eyes, you were hesitant.
"it's fine," you whispered, not more towards the figure in front of you but more to yourself, "it's alright, i can handle this on my own."
"are you sure? a blind date isn't that bad. a high rank official like ayato wouldn't even bat an eyelid towards us," your sister convinced, and maybe, she did have a point.
"imagine if you have finally paid the compensation, you could buy that one kimono you've always dreamt of, but seeing how you are so aware of your own money, it scares me honestly," she nodded, slightly comforting your sudden trembling figure, she knew she hit a jackpot with this one, "only if. what a pity. i want to see you enjoy yourself again like before."
"fine."
your sister broke into a smile, "what did you say again?"
"do i really need to repeat myself?"
"come on now, don't be so gloomy. shoulders up like a real inazuman lady," you coughed at her words of teaching you etiquette when she herself didn't follow the etiquette quiet well, "and don't consider this as a type of your so-called manipulation, let's say that this is my form of gratitude towards you," you gave her a calculating gaze, pondering over and over whether you were sure about your wavering decision just now.
"make sure i don't regret this, sister," you sighed, all emotions came up to you at once when she hugged you and gave an affirmative nod, "i'll tell mother about this, she would be super delighted hearing that you are going to the date!" her happy voice made your heart thumping against your ribcage so badly, mentally blaming yourself that you weren't strong enough to resist the tempting offer she gave to you and silently fell into her trap.
at least you were going to get out from the burden that was eating you alive for the past week.
just what mess did you have gotten yourself into?
reality hit you really hard when the weekend came by. the moment you opened your eyes upon seeing some light penetrated through the window, you instantly knew that you would regret this.
just by thinking about what you were going to do today made you almost lied to your mother and sister that you were falling ill, but then again, your sister knew how to read your body language, and that excuse inevitably checked off from your list of last minute getaway from the situation you somehow indulged in.
it's do or die, do not disappoint me, your sister words replayed themselves in the back of your head. you didn't really find out why she took this too serious. not when you were the one meeting up with lord kamisato as his date instead of the older one. the audacity of your sister was something else, you gave that.
"listen."
you sat across the small wooden table, straightening your back to look at her directly into the eyes.
"let's cause a scene."
when your inner self was trying to be nicer of your perspectives towards your sister, that was the time she proved you wrong. oh, she was way crazier than that, "let's scare him away."
"are you insane? why should i be partaking in this? if this is your way of getting that revenge on lord kamisato, i promise you i'll quit right this instant. honestly, why did i even agree to your stupid plan in the first place?" you glared at your sister, and for a moment, your sister scowled at your behaviour towards her as the eldest sibling, "little sister, you are so boring."
"think about this twice," she continued, knocking her knuckle repeatedly to get your focus whilst skilfully dodging your fiery state, "first, if the date goes bad, no one would dare setting themselves up on any blind dates with us anymore, right?"
you unknowingly rolled your eyes—while you who also didn't like the general idea of blind dates too, because love couldn't be forced by setting strangers up with each other, at least you weren't this devastated as much as your sister—and for sure your sister took notice of this, "second of all, trust me, if you act with little to no manners towards that rascal commissioner, he would definitely believe that we aren't interest in the date at all."
she gave you a grin, too wide for your continuous unsupportive attitude at her unconvincing reasons, "lastly, i will treat you for the rest of the weekend. how's that sound?"
you breathed out heavily, she was really keeping her stance in this matter.
who was your sister even kidding? she could say that carelessly without a single care in the world to your own face when you were the one who would be meeting up with lord kamisato. you were the one who would say that your sister clearly didn't want to be on that date, and instead, put you as her replacement.
not when your own mother put you in the finest kimono you'd ever laid your eyes on, even your first time got to wear the beautiful pair of shoes, perfectly styled hair and those hairpins and ornaments you had always drooled over seeing they decorated nicely on top of your mother's head were now placed on yours.
because she kept on insisting that you should always look your best for the rest of the day. your date partner was the kamisato ayato, there was no doubt that she wouldn't want her own daughter came at the estate with a bad first impression.
you had to admit, this was the best look you'd ever tried for the longest time.
unbeknownst to her, you had agreed to your sister plan accordingly upon countless times of her begging you to do what she wanted you to do.
"one, introduce yourself as the younger sister. two, pretend as if you're uninterested. it would be much better if you are being impolite from the start. three, tell him that i couldn't attend the date. make it clear that i, or even you, against it. four, end the date quickly and do what you want. you could finally put your acting to a good use. the main objective? leave a bad impression on him by the end of the date."
and now that you were here, in front of one of the most elegant buildings throughout inazuma, all of these finally sunk into your unprepared mind. you were nervous.
travelling here back from your own small hometown was taking a toll inside you, and you were already gasping for air before the real deal even began.
"greetings," one of the servants bowed down to you, probably intimidated by your looks. if only she knew, how shaky your legs were underneath the kimono, she would definitely judge you right this instant, "welcome to the yashiro commission headquarters, or informally known as the kamisato estate."
despite your mission of exacerbating the date, you couldn't help but stare in awe at how truly big and spacious the land was, noticing few beautiful details here and there, before you felt something—or rather someone—behind you.
"lady y/n?" you pivoted on your feet, turning your whole body to face somewhat a familiar face. oh, you were no lady alright but this man kept on calling you with that title which didn't suit you by any means.
the blond-haired yet humble figure introduced himself as thoma, the housekeeper of the estate, "it's nice seeing you here, miss," he gave you a welcoming smile. what an odd hair colour for an inazuma man to have, but you decided to not dive further into your own curiosity of his background.
you gave him a small nod, confirming to yourself that you didn't want to come out rude at him when all he gave you was a cheerful smile that put you at ease, despite your sister's last advice; be rude to almost everyone at the estate, if you are brave enough to do so of course.
"miss y/n, i believe my lord is waiting for you inside. i hope it goes well for the both of you," if only thoma knew, what kind of act you were going to put up afterwards, he would instantaneously regret saying that to you.
you felt bad for not saying anything towards thoma all this time he escorted you, but the way everyone looked at you during the whole time since you had arrived until the very moment the two main guards were opening the main door for you, you were feeling uncomfortable. this feeling of being the center of attention made you felt so cautious of your behaviour. everyone was judging you, and you were highly aware of that one fact.
"i'll take my leave. i must say, it isn't the best for me to interrupt you and my lord," you mentally thanked the archons for thoma wise choice. if not, he would see your acting and thought that you were being such a—
the doors opened wide in front of you, no cue or signal was given, and behind them, standing the man who you had been thinking about for the past few days, and the first thing you saw was the kamisato ayato greeting you with a bow and gave you a charming smile.
now that was a rare sight to see, especially in front of your very own eyes.
he was smiling, and you cursed silently under your breath at how good-looking this man was, mentally told yourself to calm down, because you were nervous as hell and almost tripping yourself the moment you stepped inside before you collected your confidence and self-esteem.
if your sister succeeded manipulating you for the damned money, might as well you did your best and got your hands on it.
you were finally determined to do what your sister had asked you to do. something about actually being in this private household, with only lord kamisato in front of you, made you gained so much believe in yourself.
yes, if you were going to get the money, you should just go for it.
cue.
ACT I
pretending in fixing your kimono theatrically—like a typical arrogant, rich lady—whilst looking up directly into his eyes, you firmly put some pressure on ayato's shoulder, and the way his eyes were quick enough to look down at your hand touching his formal wear made you felt half satisfied.
you smiled, only one side of your mouth curved upwards, "hello, ayato," throwing his title aside, you brushed him off with the palm of your hand, "let's sit down, shall we? my legs are tired after all that exhausting trip to this stuffy place."
you can finally put your skills in acting to a good use, your sister words constantly replayed themselves at the back of your mind.
if you had earned the award for the best play back in your school theatre once, you shouldn't doubt yourself, right?
you sat before ayato could, something that you knew, was so rude to do, especially when the person in front of you was someone with an immense power in the politics and official affairs.
no one likes a woman who is too whiny, who often complaining over little things and rude, this sounded about right for you to worsen the date.
ayato sat down gracefully across the wooden japanese table, bowed down once again and for a moment, your heart dropped at his mannerism, were you being too rude whereas this person still acting like you didn't?
no, there was no way you should think of that when there was a generous amount of money on the line.
"greetings, lady y/n. i hereby acknowledge why you are here today instead of your sister. it's a pleasure to meet you—
"oh my, it's so hot in here," you abruptly cut him off, confidence taking over you for the second time. you fanned yourself rapidly, fingers silking through your hair slowly as if putting a show and ultimately loosened your kimono sash.
you could see ayato lifted his eyebrows at your brave attempt from the corner of your eyes, and you were confused as of why he didn't bring out any sorts of reaction because if you were in his shoes, you would get anyone who dared to do this kind of unholy and embarrassing thing in front of you out of the room.
however, you weren't going to expose your bare skin in front of the expressionless eyes, and instead exposed the undergarment underneath your loosening kimono, just enough for him to see the skin in between your collarbone and the bridge of your shoulders.
the length you were willing to take and make him disliked you was even beyond your own initial plan.
no nobleman likes someone who's exposing the skin, even the slightest.
"ah, that's more like it. what did you say again, hm?" you put your arms comfortably onto the surface, hands reaching out to the cup of tea that had been served prior your entrance.
the way your hands were trembling to act natural made you gave a nervous smile to the silent man, "ah, yes," you let a faint laugh at your own involuntary actions, stopping yourself before you sounded like an idiotic maniac. the other unoccupied hand slapped your head gently, as if you were slow at catching up with his words, "i am the younger sister," you took a sip, let the bittersweet taste engulfed your taste buds, "she didn't want to come as she is very much losing her interest in you and the date."
ayato tilted his head, eyeing you with such curiousity, "and so she sent you here because you are interested?" that was the only logic he could put out after waiting for you to take some time saying quiet unimportant things to him.
"sir—" the ceramic cup in your hand was long forgotten, and you accidentally called him by his dedicated title, "i assume that you are fairly mistaken. indeed i came here as a replacement of my sister but, by any means, i am nowhere interested in the date," you took a bite of the delicious dango in front of you, didn't even bother to offer him to dine in together.
"i understand."
you knew lord kamisato was a serious person and didn't like small talks from countless stories you'd heard, but you didn't know he was this serious.
you pointed him directly with the dango stick, mouth still chewing the remains inside and simultaneously voiced out, "i am not that eager just like what you had said earlier," you sighed heavily, shoulders visibly dropped pretending to be upset when all you could feel was cringe to do such things at him, "let me get my point across, i am not fascinated by the blind date," you took his portion of the dango that had been served for you two with the emptied stick, smiling slyly at him observing you with his arms now brought to his chest, plopping the said food into your mouth, "and you."
now that should hit him right on his face, a man will lose interest if the woman isn't, right?
ayato couldn't contain but chuckle lightly at your demeanor, something about you definitely entertained him and the said date. he signalled you to come closer, the black gloves definitely caught your sight as ayato fingers curled, and you did, not expecting anything from him, "i do prefer an honest woman over hypocrite who lies."
for a brief moment, you were stunned at his sudden commentary about your talks, eyes glued to the ethereal face he had, lavender eyes hinting such amusement at you who caught off guard. you didn't expect to see the beauty mark underneath his lips this up close. he was beautiful, might be the most beautiful man you had ever seen—
before anything, your rational side quickly took over your fuzzy mind, pushed him away playfully and slowly brought the strands of your hair behind your ear.
totally didn't expect ayato to make a comeback with those words.
ACT II
"anyways," you fixed your sitting position, smiling once again at the sharp gaze he sent to you. a sudden wave of nervousness approached you now that you knew this lord did know how to play around with his words. if you weren't aware of your acting, you would drop off the act and might ask ayato for his forgiveness as you were being unreasonable throughout this supposedly blind date.
"i have been with multiple men before," you continued, "total of five, or, wait, was it six already?" you tried your best to emit the red flag aura at him, even lying about your relationships when the truth was nowhere near, "all of them didn't last long though. the longest would probably be two months," acting like a random playgirl should be easy for you, and you were convinced that a man would ultimately push a girl away if they knew that the girl casually coming from a man to another as if hopping around to test the water without a single care in the world.
now that should be an easy toxic trait.
ayato casually picked up the boba drink beside him, and you were quite baffled to see lord kamisato nodding to himself, as if he was approving mentally at the sweet taste of the drink, "hey, listen to me while i am talking," you knocked the surface of the table repeatedly, and it was proven enough for ayato to look directly into your eyes. lord, did he even know how much confidence you were losing when he gave you that look, because you were indeed losing your sanity over his cold eyes.
"ah," he sure loved bringing his arms to his chest, eyebrows lifted up, as if he was mocking you, "you are telling me that you are aware of your wavering love life, and you aren't interested in me and our date. that says much that you are changing for the better," he tilted his head to the side, resting his amused face on the back of his palms, "you did some progress."
you almost coughed, why did he have to be so positive even in this current situation?
you said that not to tell him that you were finally serious in your fake love life, you said that to scare him off with how your fake previous relationships ended.
you almost groaned in distaste, it was harder than you thought it would.
unknowingly picking up the food, you kept on chewing and chewing, one after another, mind was racing with lots and lots of thoughts before you suddenly realised how stupid you might have looked in front of lord kamisato, maybe akin to a homeless man devouring the leftover food with such speed as if it was his last meal.
ACT III
"ah!" your high-pitched voice caught ayato attention to the fullest, if he was casually staring at you the whole time you were eating while his untouched portion was still there in front of him, this time around, he looked at you with a serious face.
the question of, "did something happen?" left his own mouth before he could filter his words, but the moment you looked up at him, faking your sad face, he knew you were playing with him yet again.
ayato was a genius for reasons. he literally knew how to read people easily as the outcome of years he was exposed to the dirty politics behind the scene since he was young. unfortunately for you, you were no exception.
the moment he saw you pulled up your hand, pecking 'your' diamond ring multiple times as you went, "oh honey, are you okay? does it hurt clashing with the plate?" he knew he was in for another scene.
"oh, i am so glad you aren't being scraped by this stupid glass slab. need to maintain your shine, okay? i spent a whole whopping millions on you," you cringed at your own words, pretending to be super into your mother's marriage ring she lent to you for the sake of your presentation on the date.
a woman who is crazy over luxurious things, no man likes that.. right?
only to see that lord kamisato wasn't even questioning your whole dramatic scene and he only reassured you with a small smile.
he was unbelievable, truly.
you couldn't think of any other things to act out, all cards had been played, yet the results by all of them were much more disappointing.
it was hard to make up your own stories here and there when lord kamisato genuinely asked you questions about your life, and because you were so clueless of doing anything to 'scare' him away from you, you followed along the conversation before the situation turned more tensed and worst.
of course, with some fake acts and complaints in between your answers.
"thank you for entertaining me," even after all those crazy acts you had put up with, he was still being respectful to you, accompanying you until the outside of the estate, sending you by himself while ignoring all the prying eyes. instantly, guilt came crashing down at you all at once.
despite feeling horrible doing all of the things to make the date unlikeable to lord kamisato, at least the money was guaranteed to be yours and the date was finally over! nothing could compare with the relief that washed you all over, it was definitely the best feeling you had ever felt once in a while.
however though, you still couldn't break the chain of acting you did throughout the date, you suddenly thought of a final card to make him remember that you were such an awful woman with an awful attitude.
the last card you could think of, here goes nothing.
ACT IV
"ayato," saying his name casually all this time actually made you felt less awkward now, and you immediately reminded yourself to keep yourself in check because lord kamisato was still the head clan of the known yashiro commission, and he was way superior than your humble being, "while you're thanking me for my fun presence," you twirled your hair, and winking at him, "i want to thank you for the free, magneficent food."
you didn't know how you becoming braver than usual, but you did, and the way you actually closed the gap between you a little bit closer for you to reach his ear, you knew he could feel your breath on his neck, because the space left felt too close even in your own consciousness, "and for the view of your handsome face too," you pulled away, faintly caressed his slight flushed cheek and his formal attire.
the way ayato slightly caught off guard seeing you acting like this, when he heard from the shuumatsuban that you were a dignified woman in their eyes, baffled him to say the least.
but the way your trembling hand came up to him just now, and the way you almost tripped yourself once again before you left his sight, ayato knew something wasn't right and it amused him.
you knew how to run your mouth, he gave that, and this, you being like this the whole time, actually peaked his interest.
ayato didn't like wasting his time in such things, and although you came into his life not so long ago, he couldn't help but have to admit that you definitely delighted him in many ways.
"my lord," thoma greeted him when he walked back to the main garden, relishing himself within the pleasant view in front of him. he didn't miss the way thoma eyes shone bright under the sunlight, and instantly knew, that his unofficial right-hand man wanted to ask him how the date went, like how he always did to him with the previous ones.
"how was the date? lady y/n seemed very nervous the whole time i walked her to meet you. it might have been nerve-wrecking for her to replace her sister as your date," thoma laughed when he was brought back to the memories and the loud silence between you and him a few hours ago, "she must have been very shy when she met you."
"oh?" ayato's voice sounded much more cheerful than he intended to let out. he found it more interesting hearing aloud on thoma opinions about you which in any case, was way more different than his, "is that what you think so?"
"yes, my lord," he paused, "in my opinion, she was very awry throughout the walk and she didn't even say a word to me. you could say that we were pretty awkward with each other as she was being very cautious about the whole situation and to me," thoma added.
ayato hummed upon hearing thoma further opinions regarding you. was it terrible that he found the date way more interesting than his own work?
if he was tired because of the preparations for the annual festival beforehand, then keeping up with your antics had been such a stress reliever for him. in some twisted way, he actually did mean his last words to you. you are entertaining him, even until now with you aren't even in his sight.
"thoma."
"is there anything you would like me to help, my lord?"
"no, thoma, it's not that," ayato smiled, the way he just remembered all those not-so ladylike things you did made him felt much more at ease now, "the date went well."
"my lord?" thoma couldn't stop staring at how the head clan answered him with a smile he never thought ayato would show after a date, "..what you meant is?" he just couldn't believe his own eyes, whether this was some sick illusion for him to see ayato smiling after all those frowning and serious mode he had set himself in within the past weeks for the sake of carrying out a successful celebration near in the future, for the sake of inazuma.
"the date," he repeated, fully turned himself towards thoma who was still in disbelief, "the date went well."
the words were the only confirmation thoma needed, maybe to ayato, the date went well as if 'went smoothly like all the blind dates he had been set up with before'. after all, ayato was known for saying two different things yet had the same meaning behind them.
"at least the date wasn't boring."
now that left thoma speechless, as ayato heading back to the estate, leaving thoma behind with more questions than ever.
seconds turned to hours, hours turned to days, and it had been more than two days since the date and all you could hear was how your sister convinced you that you shouldn't worry because lord kamisato wouldn't even bat an eyelid towards you. which, in all honesty, was the truth and the most logical thing to calm you down.
you were hopeful that you wouldn't come across the path with lord kamisato anymore, because remembering the acts you put out for a show towards him were haunting you even more than you liked.
a mere lady from an unknown clan wouldn't have a chance to meet lord kamisato again, that was what you had been saying to yourself for the past hours.
up until this moment, you wished to bury yourself underground and never saw the light of the day once again. you were so embarrassed, it was insane how you even had the courage to be such a low woman in front of lord kamisato.
on the brighter side; your compensation was settled and now you were finally, finally free from this burden.
on the darker side; your mother was so happy that one of her daughters apparently had been going through a date with an amazing man himself. if only she knew, how misbehaved you were, she might make you never stepped inside of the house anymore.
only the mere thought of it made you shivered.
"lady y/n," the call of someone made you snapped back from your tired mind and into the reality, too caught up in the past when you shouldn't, "you have been staring at the sakura tree for a long time now. what's the point of you taking turns with your sister to assist the shrine maidens when all you did was daydreaming the whole time?" the oldest shrine maiden gave you a lengthy lecture, and you bowed for too many times to count when you should be the one who took up this responsibility for the day.
the woman in front of you coughed, maybe she was too harsh on you. your status didn't define where you were currently standing in the sacred shrine, age and experiences did. that was probably why she often took you as if her own child, although your family clan was the one behind managing the shrine affairs here in this humble village.
"archons above, and in the name of the almighty shogun, please focus on your duty, lady y/n," she sighed exasperatedly, "tell me if you ever need something else," the woman gave you a bow before heading back towards the shrine, ultimately ended her scoldings onto you as you nodded your head followed after with a sincere apology.
with the shrine maiden out of sight, you took a stroll outside of the shrine for a while whilst looking up at the purple decorating across the canvas up in the air. today was unlike any other usual day of rains and storms, it was clear and fresh, and you basked into the momentary feeling.
here, on yashiori island, normal weather wasn't always sun and calm skies, thunders roared and heavy downpour were the norm to the people here, so to see that even the weather wanted you to ought peace put your heart at a more contented state.
this village and its people were those few who lucky enough to not affected by tatarigami decades ago, unlike how stories about the curse swept across the land and caused sickness and calamities to every living things on this island. sometimes, you were so grateful and taking such great pride of your ancestors for holding out and survived.
"y/n!" one left, and here comes another. the cheerful voice almost left you glaring at the person behind you, interrupting your peace when the mind went haywire was what you definitely needed the most right now. however, upon seeing the little boy who you so much adored waving at you, all your bad intentions died halfway.
"big sister! i totally don't expect to see you here," he ran to you with his little feet, grinning widely at seeing your face. the little boy was the son of the head village, often sneaking around knocking at your door to invite you playing a game of temari and a round of hide and seek.
he hugged your legs, and you quickly softened at the sight, "now, now, why are you here?" you patted his head. it was odd, but his little hug succeeded in slowing down your overthinking.
"father and mother are praying but it was so boring!" the mind of a child was so pure and fragile, you slightly chuckled at hearing his naughtiness, "good children pray too, you know? so, next time, if you go to the shrine with father and mother again, pray with all your heart. you might even get what you wished for!"
he looked up at you, his eyes were sparkling, showed that they were the most innocent pair you'd ever seen, "does that mean i can get to own a new toy?"
"yes, you can," confirming his statement with a thumbs up at the young kid, he then excitedly jumped up and down, "i have to pray well to get a new toy!" the way he was so joyful made you suddenly missing the feeling of doing what you wanted without thinking its consequences. ah, it would be so nice to feel that way again.
you watched him carefully, thinking that it would be a while for his parents to be done with their prayers. maybe you could watch over him for a moment, at least his presence brought comfort to you.
as if he could read your mind, the little boy took out a slip of bamboo from his kimono sleeves, "look at what i got today!" he said cheerfully, too eager to share the thing he mentioned within his hand to you.
you accepted the small piece of slip nonetheless, it read great fortune on it and you shook your head multiple times, "did you go and try your luck when your parents are praying?" the thing in your hand was in fact a fortune slip visitors always tried their hands on to know what they might encounter for the day at the shrine.
"yes! the big sister there told me that i will get super lucky today," he closed your hand with his own, as if giving it away to you and you tilted your head in confusion, eyebrows slightly raised at his actions, "and now i am going to share my luck with big sister y/n! now you and me will get super lucky for the rest of our life!" you heart warmed at his words, how much purer could this boy can be? you just felt the need to protect this boy from the dangers of the world.
wiping his face gently, you carried him on the back of your shoulders, and he opened up his arms, as if mimicking the flying birds he learned back in his class, "let's head back in. your father and mother must have been searching for you," you giggled when feeling him holding onto your shoulders dearly, "let's go!" he exhilaratingly swung his feet back and forth. it was really nice to not think about it for now, as your fullest attention was now on the boy on your back.
you settled him down once everything was safe, his little hand intertwined with yours before you spotted a group of shrine maidens—from what you saw with the outfits—grouping together at the front of the shrine, but what stood out the most was even the boy's parents were there amongst the crowd. it looked like as if the shrine maidens were paying respect to the two powerful figures around the village—the head village and his wife, with his son still clutching his hand with yours—that what you had assumed.
"father, mother, big sister y/n is here too!" he shouted, the child's voice caught everyone's attention and he let go of his hold, running towards his parents playfully.
you bowed down respectfully towards the parents from afar, giving them the nicest smile you could give out, legs continuing in hurry steps to catch up with the little kid that had long forgotten you behind him.
the closer you'd gotten, the air felt more suffocating than ever. something didn't sit right with you, not when everyone looked tensed and rigid the more you came closer. their postures told you everything.
you were about to question what happened, or why everyone was dead serious within the radius, but all you words died in your throat when you saw a certain blue-haired, tall and slender figure among them all. the white and pristine suit looked nothing but too familiar in your eyes and he was definitely the last person you would want to meet face to face.
his lavender eyes bore straight into yours and your steps halted midway from joining the crowd.
why does lord kamisato is here?
you were on the edge, panicking even more when he actually made his way towards you, was it too late to disappear now? you should have known better the moment you saw how the shrine maidens fidgeting their fingers from time to time. but then again, how would you even know it was him? out of all people?
"greetings," you just couldn't move your own feet, as if you had been glued to the same position all this time, even when your mind mentally told you to run away because the look lord kamisato gave you was screaming to you that he recognised you.
it was too unreal, your eyes must have been delusional and playing tricks on you. it could be it, yes, it was.
"lady y/n," the head village interrupted, as if trying to break you free from your stoic state, "this is the yashiro commissioner, sir kamisato," he introduced him to you when you didn't even flinch seeing the person messing up your mind and stared at him in disbelief. the people around you must have thought that you were just staring in awe when the reality was opposite of it.
"thank you all, for such company, but i would like to talk with lady y/n here. excuse us, as we need some privacy to discuss important matters," the way he punctuated those last words made your stomach churned oh so badly. why did he even instruct them to leave you two alone? you were dying of nervousness out in the open.
you wanted to curse, wanted to rip your hair apart, wanted to throw tantrum at the guy in front of you, he remembered your name, and now you were doomed.
a command was given, and everyone left scurried off, bowing to lord kamisato before the last one told him that if he ever needed anything, called her or any of them, only for the lord to shake her off, and said it was alright as he solely came here to visit the shrine.
you pleaded with your eyes to not leave you here alone with lord kamisato, but the young shrine maiden seemed to not catch your hidden intention.
getting anxious was the perfect way to describe this inexplicable feeling, there was no way lord kamisato wanted to discuss any matters with you. you never played an important role with the tri-commission, never really heavily involved with them except for your mother.
ayato, on the other hand, was thrilled to see you again. the desired feeling finally met its own end, the feeling to meet you again, because the only thing that made him lost interest in his works for the last two days was you, the only subject in his mind.
he never ever gotten off from his own tracks, or even strayed that far from his multitasking. people around him said that his mind was full of workloads, yet you, the ordinary lady from afar who he barely knew, was the one occupied his current state of messy mind.
often came up with questions about your whereabouts even when he didn't intend to, were you fine? did you eat well? because the last time he saw you eating at his place, the image of you devouring your—and his—portions made him smiled at the thoughts.
or, perhaps, did you miss him, just like how he did to you? he missed your intriguing presence, maybe even more when he just liked the idea of you entertaining him.
his speculation was right after all. you were just trying to ruin the date. the way you only looked at his black, shiny leather shoes convinced him that it was all an acting. you couldn't fool him, he knew it since the blind date.
the way you didn't dare to make an eye contact with him right at this moment convinced him that you were just an ordinary lady with a manner, and something inside him made him flustered looking at you smiling genuinely with the son of the head village back then.
"m-my lord," you finally greeted him properly after a moment of silence and the sounds of birds chirping, and ayato thought your stuttering was adorable, with the fact that you addressed him with his title.
it was such a sight to behold, the you from his own memories wasn't this attentive of her attitude.
while you were making a deep obeisance towards him, he never felt such triumph, the you from his mind wasn't this careful of her words and actions yet here you were stuttering, looking at all things beside him. all those feisty and bold words, they were gone.
"i beg your pardon, sir," you just couldn't stop shaking, mind went blank in seconds when you looked up at him silently pursuing you to continue with his observant eyes, "with all my utmost respects, what's the purpose behind your sudden appearance, sir?" you finally let out a sentence, it was taking ages and this was just not it if you wished to talk out with him any further.
ayato couldn't stop staring at you, from your less fancy kimono to your hands clasping together, he couldn't.
before he could respond to your question, he could hear the faint whisperings of others, did they know about the blind date? or you shut your mouth about it? because the look they gave to you was nothing less than analysing you, and maybe him.
that look a lot of people gave him once he took the name of his clan on his shoulders when he was younger.
"are you, perhaps, forgetting my duty as the yashiro commissioner, hm?" he brought his arms towards his broad chest, a sly smirk forming on his lips and you couldn't help but gaping at him, once again making yourself an utter fool.
all of the memories about your fake acting and the past blind date disintegrated within thin air along with the falling sakura, you were that shocked to see lord kamisato was actually in front of you again.
"the yashiro commission's duty is in charge of managing shrines, festivals and cultural events," you felt like a middle schooler when he gently reminded you again, only with that stupid, charming smile you wished to wipe off of his god-like face because it certainly did something inside you.
"i came here to supervise what is needed to be done, whether by the village or the shrine," he gave you a knowing smile, making you almost convinced that he knew you were here today, but it could be another trick your mind wanted you to fall into, "the summer festival is right around the corner. it would be such an inconvenient if you, and the whole village, missing out the festival. am i right, my lady?"
he talked as if this was his yearly routine, yet you didn't remember the stories of lord kamisato came to the village for such things, let alone the shrine. if he did, news must have reached your ears as quick as a flash.
"but it doesn't make any sense," your curiosity overpowered your anxious feeling, needed more detailed explanations from the man in question.
how much denser could you be? did he shall directly told you that he wanted to meet you, for his own personal matters? he lied to you, partially for covering the intentions behind his words, and the other was to make people surrounded him to be less skeptical.
it was funny, how he lied to you, when he was so sure that he hated lies and fake promises.
"oh? which part in my words that doesn't make any sense?" he leaned in, you didn't know how or when, but the space between you was slowly decreasing since the start of this conversation. his eyes zeroed on you before you turned red in embarrassment, "my lord, i-i don't think it's a good idea to act carelessly out here in the open," you turned your head away because having him this up close was too much for your heart to handle.
"and what's the reason, my lady? enlighten me," you swiftly increased the intense gap by taking a baby step backwards. his little actions irked you so much, it was definitely not a good sign for you to feel this flustered and shy. at this point, you knew he was messing with you.
"people are going to get suspicious, my lord," you gave out the best reasoning you could form, words after words came out of your mouth of why specifically he was the one who should be more careful, trying in convincing him to not stain his image, and all he thought was how adorable of you to becoming a stuttering mess, and it was all because of him.
if he only did this much, he wondered what would be your reaction if he did more, and why would you be so cautious anyway?
when lady guuji said he was a yashiro rascal, never would he thought that those words could be truer, especially when he went over such length to find you again here in this such modest village.
"i don't mind," all your words died, cheeks flushed upon hearing him, "it is quite pleasant to stumble across you once again, y/n."
did lord kamisato just, dropped all of his formalities in front of you? did he really call you only by your name so causally?
did he ever do this to somebody else?
you panicked for a brief moment, turning your head left and right before the line was clear. you didn't know why you were acting so recklessly in front of him, but the moment you pulled lord kamisato aside, far enough for other eyes to see and hear his last words that could rise suspicions and brought so many butterflies in your stomach, you were confused, either of your instantaneous actions, or even to your own feelings.
you didn't notice how long you held your breath, only to realise once you pulled your hand away from lord kamisato's and you regretted almost immediately at how sweltering the current situation was, a sigh of relief soon followed after, thinking that it would be safe to seek some explanations from him.
"sir, deepest apologies for interrupting you," you were really having a hard time to make your erratic breath steadier, it was harder when lord kamisato was taking his sweet time diverting his focus more on your words, "i am afraid if i misunderstood your words back then," you were at least trying to calm down, almost as if there was a war raging inside your brain telling you to behave at your best now that you had the only chance to sort things out that had gotten more bewildered as time went forward, "...and i truly think saying such scandalous words wouldn't get the best reactions out of public eyes."
ayato leaned onto the nearest flat surface behind him, intently hearing your apology and explanations as why you were quick to do beyond your thoughts, his arms crossing and he brought them towards his broad chest.
it was really entertaining when you tried to be alone with him, he thought. didn't you know if he being all alone with only you in front of him, hidden from prying eyes and gossips about him, that this made him wanted to just say out loud a more controversial topic to stir you than just those words he said beforehand? he only dropped your title, and you were already this alarmed.
he was definitely smitten, which weirded him out when his reasonable side took over his head.
again, he barely knew you, but why did he have the urge to make you his already?
"must i repeat myself, i don't mind, not even the slightest," you almost lost your footing hearing his direct answer, almost fell into his arms if not for the wooden fence that had been fenced throughout the outside of the whole shrine.
"w-what did you mean by that, sir?" he swore his heart melted seeing you became so bothered by his straightforwardness.
"let's just say that i am taking quiet a liking towards you, lady y/n," you were left speechless, as if someone took your breath away and you just couldn't believe what you were hearing. your sister words suddenly becoming more and more loud, he wouldn't even remember you, lies, she lied. she lied to you.
the plan, it actually backfired.
"i-i think you've gotten all wrong, sir—
you were sputtering nonsense, heart somewhat racing when you told yourself that this wasn't real, it wasn't the reality, "there's no way—
there was no way lord kamisato actually—
"relax, little one," you almost gasped hard hearing him addressing you, you didn't want to overthink. what did you hear again? were you this delusional to hearing nonsensical things? no, were you even fine in the first place?
"my lady," he should stop staring at you with such a gorgeous face, body towering over you. even when you were outside, the cold air added more red to your cheeks, you were literally burning, "are you alright?"
you were too stunned. eyes widening seeing how close you were with his figure, another step and there wasn't any space left. were you this close all this time?
why were you feeling so anxious? you were confused about your own feelings, but the way lord kamisato ultimately closed the little gap with a step forward, closer to you, your heart was beating so fast, it was the only sound you could hear beside your ears. it was piercing and you almost shying away before the warm feeling of his arms lingered around your waist.
if a passerby did come across seeing the both of you in such a questionable position, no, you didn't want to even think about it. it was already took a toll inside you to maintain focus on your overwhelming thoughts when his calm breathing beside the shell of your ear was the only thing you could give your attention to.
"ten dates," he whispered, low tone that never thought would awake something deep inside you, "go out with me for another ten dates. ten dates for me to prove myself, my lady," he sighed, tightening his hold with you in his arms, it was crazy how you fit him like a perfect puzzle piece, it was funnier that he would chase you, the girl who tried to leave a bad impression on him, only made him wanting for more, "i'll keep asking you out again and again, until your heart, too, has been settled in such decision."
with that, he pulled away to appreciate the beauty he saw within you, you were such a beautiful mess in his eyes. if he didn't maintain his composure, he might want to plant his lips on your forehead, he never thought he would be this stupidly craving for a little taste. this reminded him that he was still an ordinary man with such desires, only to be masked with a much more powerful and respectful title.
ayato was determined, and what he wanted, he often found a way around to achieve it.
it was a mistake to look at his face longing for you, too close, and you unknowingly melted in his arms, lost in his gaze, palms on his chest, fisting his suit a little bit too rough to calm your inner self.
butterflies dancing inside you, heart skipped a beat every single time he caressed your hair to the side to look at you more, to take in the sight before him because two days without your presence suddenly felt infuriating to him, the days after that date were bland and ayato thought to himself, was he always had been living such a dull life?
tensions multiplied the more you lost in his intense, ethereal, lavender orbs. you could practically feel the strong strings of attraction, and it was more than enough for it to swipe your balance away from your feet when lord kamisato took in a sharp breath, followed by his words of, "they said silence means consent, lady y/n. are you telling me that you are agreeing to my proposal, hm?"
you neither gave him a nod, nor denying his words, it was just too much. too much for your beating heart, and for your flustered state.
all you could do was gulping down the invisible lump in your throat for keeping such an intense eye contact for the longest time. you could see how serious he was about this, and your head thought that this might actually work for the both of you.
after all, you didn't know how, or why it happened, but you were just naturally attracted to lord kamisato more than you'd like to admit. ten dates weren't giving you any harms, right?
he leaned in, way closer than ever, and you eyes trailed down onto his pretty lips. it was hard not to stare, when he was a hair's breadth away from touching his lips with yours and—
"may i kiss you?" he asked you gently, securing his arms even more when he saw your eyes hinted a slight shock and yearning.
never in your life you would agree to such things impatiently, but you lifted yourself. somehow being in his arms felt too safe and brought you such comfort that you badly wanted to indulge in. you were freaking yourself out for behaving immaturely to this man, but all thoughts vanished once you felt his lips on yours.
gentle as breeze, soft as silk, the peck he gave to you was nothing more, or nothing less. it was perfect to not crossing the line, yet you knew there was no turning back when you pushed yourself more into him.
he smiled into the soft kiss, wishing to deepen the kiss, but he knew to be patient. was it bad that he wanted to cross all the boundaries just for you? it was ridiculous to feel this type of thing so early.
the way he held your face as if you were such a fragile being melted you in the inside, you unconsciously titled your face to feel more of him. all logical thoughts were nowhere to be found, all you could think of was how this man in front of you kissing you with such gentleness, and for a fleeting moment, you might have a tiny, minuscule crush on him.
to you, and to kamisato ayato, both of you might have to rethink the terms of love at first sight, because it definitely did work out its magic on him, and maybe, to you too.
taglist; @kazu-topia @sussydemon @hamayumis @a-fairytale @mouchie @achilleas-dream @stuckindreamland06 @nvicvi @kailluaken (usernames in bold are the ones that couldn't be tagged)
a/n; omg it has been such a long ride for me to push this fic out of the drafts. if you, the beloved reader, have reached this very end, thank you so much for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated as always <3
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the cutest livestream intro
An Encore of Betrayal
Summary: The devil with no sin nor memory and he who has held them all for centuries.
Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)
Tags: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic, SMUT, NSFW, Historical AU, Fantasy AU?, Reincarnation AU, cursed!neuvillette, dragon!neuvillette, reincarnated!Reader, human!reader, Fluff, a lot of fluff, Melusines doing their best to play cupid, ex-lovers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers? ANGST, he's trying his best, dragon x human dynamics, Monsterfucking (two... I have no defense), cunnilingus(long tongue), marking, size kink? breeding kink, heat, overstimulation, hate sex? kinda?, slightly unhealthy dynamics (past life), dubcon, trust issues, immortal x mortal, slightly possessive!neuvillette, slightly yandere!neuvillette, TW: mild mention of blood, TW: descriptions of drowning, sin, and sacrifice. TW: Trauma from betrayal, themes of resentment, Infertility.
Author's Note: Wanted to try out a historical fantasy from Neuvillette's pov. I struggle with fantastical settings, so overlook any world-building confusion. Mihoyo won't give me his real name, and it's eating away at my sanity. Enjoy!
Somewhere deep beneath the waves, away from the omnipotent watch of false divinity, lies a village. A bustling home carved into an outcast cove nestled under the cover of suppressive tides.
One littered with tiny houses surrounding an impressive estate modeled much like the ones seen in those novels abandoned from capsized ships.
Would you believe that such a place exists?
Decorated with curious trinkets which sunk beneath the surface which had forsaken them, kept in this cove for so long that it was challenging to remember the azure hues.
Ornaments decorating the expanse of this once lonesome cave, almost enough to conceal its true origin: A prison.
A fool sentenced to this penitentiary masquerading as a home, now affectionately named ‘Merusea Village’.
Within that attentively built estate, a looming figure stood in front of a wall lined with neatly organized novels, lilac eyes running along the titles printed along each spine.
A collection saved from watery abandonment after falling overboard by the curious hands of Melusines. Amassed throughout the years until the shelves of this humble library were without vacancy.
Stopping a finger on a spine, he decided on the novel to pass the ever-plenty time bestowed upon him. He’s aware that each book amongst these shelves has been thumbed through by him.
But with enough years, the recollection of the contents contained within each one tends to become foggy.
It's fate that the novel selected in his hands just so happens to be a collection of tales.
Humans have many strange behaviors, one might even call them traditions. One particular tradition mortals seem to indulge in often is that of storytelling.
Lilac eyes browse through the pages, refreshing himself on the tale held within its faded covers.
----------
There once was a lovely kingdom amidst lush pastures and fertile lands where the townspeople sang and danced under the bright sunlight.
But one day the sun disappeared, concealed behind ashen clouds that cried a lonesome hymn, plaguing the unfortunate kingdom with rain.
The origin of the rain stemmed from the lonesomeness of a great dragon of water.
Thus, to stop the rain, the king sent out a princess to the dragon, declaring that the kingdom gates wouldn’t welcome her back if rain fell from the sky. She was sent off in a white gown.
Down below a flooded loch, the princess was offered to the weeping dragon. Looking up the princess saw the sorrowful pools in the beast’s eyes.
‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, why do you cry?’ She asked.
Intrigued by the bravery of the young princess, the dragon answered: ‘Because I am lonely, I have no brethren left.’
Feeling pity the princess responded: ‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, don’t cry. I will be lonely with you.’
So the princess befriended a lonesome dragon under the hymn of softening rain, with his loneliness soothed, the sun peeked back out from ashen clouds. But one day, pitiful tears fell from her eyes and the princess wept so bitterly.
The dragon could not bear seeing those tears stain her cheeks. He offered her pearls, jewels, and gold. Yet those bitter tears still fell, tainting the pristine water.
‘Beloved princess, why do you cry so bitterly?’ He implored.
‘I long to go home, I miss my kingdom,’ she revealed.
But she could not go home, for if she stepped foot away from the riverside the lonesome rain would start again. The colossal dragon could not leave the loch, but he could not bear seeing those bitter tears.
So he relented, telling the princess a secret. A secret all dragons buried deep within: His true name.
‘If you speak my name, my true name, then I can grant you one wish. But be careful, for there can only be one wish.’ The dragon whispered.
‘Do you wish to return to your kingdom, beloved princess?’ He asked.
The princess was silent for a long while, weighing the choices in her hand. She longed to return home, but she also longed to be by the side of her kind dragon.
Confident in her decision, she beckons the great dragon closer, until her lips could reach the side of his large head where his ear lay. After whispering his name, she tells the beast her wish.
‘I wish for you to become my prince, so we can return to the kingdom together, that way you won’t ever be lonely again.’
A clever wish he grants with a nod. Scales and claws shedding away until a handsome prince stood in front of her. Thus, hand in hand they returned from the loch to the warm welcome of the kingdom.
And they lived happily ever after.
----------
Ah, so it was that tale.
Judging from the age of the novel, he guesses it must be a rendition of a rendition.
Words and events twisted, embellished, and simplified. Until it became nothing more than a mere fable told to entertain the wandering minds of children.
A beloved tale of a maiden who got a dragon to give up his grand authority, stopping the flood of vengeance from drowning Fontaine.
This is what the origin of his damnation has turned into. The tales of the heroine’s feats sung and written throughout the narrative of time, passing from one generation’s lips to another’s ears.
However, he supposes this is expected of humans. It’s their tradition of storytelling, after all, mending a fallacy into a tale palatable to their conscious.
Or perhaps, these embellishments were added to compensate for the hollows caused by the frailty of mortal memory.
Patching over the holes with flowery words to distract readers from inaccuracies that were only compounded upon from the last.
Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the dragon all that well, considering that they thought the proud dragon would bow to the whims of a meek human.
Placing a secret so simply in her hands at the mere sight of tears.
Did Fontainians not realize that the land they reside on once belonged solely to dragons? How preposterous it is that a sovereign couldn’t set foot upon his own land. Or did they forget why he couldn’t?
What a naive ending, did mortals truly believe that blood and water could dwell together without consequences? That simply wishing the dragon to become a human could resolve all troubles?
To overwrite everything with a ‘happily ever after’ which never happened?
Regardless of his reservations toward such fables, the Melusines always seem eager to gather around for such stories. The towering figure lacked the conviction to deny such requests.
From down the hall approaching closer came the pitter-patter of steps, he turned his tall frame toward the direction of the sound just as a few familiar faces revealed themselves from the library entrance.
“Monsieur Neuvillette! Come quickly! A human! A human appeared!” A group of Melusines tugs on the fabric of his slacks while pointing toward the phenomenon.
A mortal in this domain? A cavern hidden deep under the land and waters where the warmth of the sun couldn’t grace. How did such a being find their way into this sanctum? It’d be best that he alleviates their worries.
“Please lead the way.” Neuvillette closes the novel, returning it to the confines of its shelf.
His swift movements in time with the melusines’ frantic patter as they made their way out from his estate.
Soon the tops of the Melusines’ cozy homes of Merusea Village came into view, as did the murmuring of a distraught crowd.
“Excuse me.” His steps made their presence known, their heads perked up to look at him before parting a path for Neuvillette.
Upon the maroon pasture of Merusea Village was a blanket of silk and woven lace, snowy fabric surrounding the still figure of a human.
Treading closer Neuvillette kneels down while reaching out a hand, weaving his fingers under the fabric which obscures the mortal’s face.
“We found her while gathering offerings from the waters … Is she…” The anxious murmuring quiets to await his verdict.
“She has a pulse,” he reveals, fingertips detecting wisps of warmth along cold skin.
It was faint, but his attentive eyes caught onto the slow movement of her chest. The snowy fabric had greedily drunk up the essence of the sea. Cursing her to sink deeper below the tides.
To leave a mortal in such a state would be too cruel of a fate.
Neuvillette moves his hand to support her covered head as his other arm gathers the damp fabric under her legs.
Carefully, he stands back to his full height, cradling her limp body in his hold. An audience of fretful gazes follow his motions.
“Do not fret, she only requires some rest and a change of clothing, I’ll take her to my abode. Could you gather some cloth to dry down her body?” Neuvillette’s melodic voice just barely above a whisper, so as not to stir the figure in his arms.
His expression softens to offer the compassionate creatures some reassurance. With firm nods the Melusines scatter, determination alight in their bright irises as they sought the necessary items to care for their newfound guest.
The dampness of the heavy fabric seeps into his own attire as Neuvillette turns the knob to grant him entry into his abode.
Quietly ambling through the spacious halls, the master bedroom came into view. Neuvillette lays the limp form upon his sheets, ensuring that her head rests slowly upon the soft pillows.
Just as her figure sinks into the mattress, a chorus of metallic clinks catches his attention. Glancing down her body his lilac eyes discover the origin.
A pair of silver shackles encased around her ankles, the unforgiving metal digging into defenseless flesh.
Gingerly, he takes one ankle into his grasp to better observe the shackles.
This time he couldn’t fight against the deep frown as it debuted upon his lips. His eyes hone on how tightly those heavy chains were bound along the flesh.
Soon the unforgiving metal crashes down to the floor, he soothes the freed skin with his thumb while checking for any other possible wounds.
Lilac eyes travel up to her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be reminded that her face was concealed behind a shroud of lace.
How uncomfortable it must be to have a cold piece of fabric to cover one’s face. Neuvillette places her ankle back onto the bed.
His large hands took hold of the damp veil to lift it from her resting frame, revealing to his draconic eyes for the first time their face.
The veil stays suspended in the air as his hands cease all motion. Hardened gaze tracing over her features, the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, and the structure of her face.
Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness.
Within those mortal tales, there’s a wide variety of beasts and fearsome creatures. Dragons were depicted as such omnipotent beasts. But there’s a monster all other beast falls secondary to, the devil.
They didn’t possess the sharpest talons nor the largest fangs. No, what made them so horrifying is that they dawned the most enchanting faces.
He’s staring at it right now. The face of the devil who deceived him.
Those gods must be laughing at him right now. Those false idols, with their capricious fate and whims, who once must’ve shook hands with you to carry out their schemes all those years ago.
The scheme which imprisons him here in this humiliating form of the mortal creatures those false idols loved so much.
Yes, a devil, that must be what you are. For how did a meek mortal trick a dragon who once held the full authority of the tides?
His chest expands with a deep breath before a long exhale leaves him. Ah, yes that must be why this white gown has appeared before him again. He removes the senseless scrap of lace, checking once more for signs of discomfort before he turns his body away.
Finding himself outside the threshold of his bedroom as he closes the door behind him. He should wait here for the Melusines to arrive with a change of clothes and towels.
It’d buy him enough time to steadily return the tempestuous loch to a subdued ripple in a pond. His chest expands once more with a deep inhale.
A second cruel rendition unfolding once more in the narrative of time.
The crisp turn of a page resounds through the room. Lilac eyes glanced up from the text every so often to watch the steady rises and falls of your chest from his vantage point of a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside.
Heavy lashes still shut just as they were the day your drenched figure was pulled from the tides by merciful hands.
The journey to wisdom is lined with mistakes, mistakes providing teachings one must ingrain into their very being if they don’t wish to repeat such blunders again.
Just as how a burn seared into skin is a forever reminder that fire indeed burns indiscriminately.
A scar ingrained deep within him cries out for Neuvillette to withdraw from the fire which scorned him so long ago.
Alas, it’s duty which has sat him down beside your sleeping form. You’re the first guest this cove has seen in a long time, thus bringing you under the responsibility of the host, Neuvillette himself.
A stir brings his stoic gaze back away from his thoughts. Your chest rises with a long inhale as leaden lashes flutter open.
The cadence of your breaths begins to rise as more of your senses return to you. Fatigue evident in each slow drag of breath.
“Ah, I see you’ve awoken.” Neuvillette observes.
Your muscles momentarily forget their fatigue as your head snaps toward the owner of the deep voice. Eyes now wide and alert.
“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.” He casts a glance toward the steaming bowl on the nightstand.
He could feel the weight of your stare travels up his figure. Do you perhaps remember him? Can you recall his lush snowy locks streaked with azure? Irises that held an all too familiar hue, a multitude of lilac shades much like a field of lavenders.
Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled?
“W-who are you?...” Your gaze was too cowardly to meet his.
Ah, have the cycle of death and rebirth washed those sins and memories?
The tonality of your trembling voice filled with puzzlement instead of recognition. He should’ve expected this much.
This you is nothing more than a stranger who shares the face of a devil.
“Where am I?” Another question leaves those lips in the absence of a response.
Just give him a moment, allow him to pacify the surging torrent within so their bitterness doesn’t seep into his words.
“You’re in our village!” A cheery voice joins the conversation.
Two pairs of eyes land upon a short figure with a pair of pastel horns. You blink once, then twice, then slowly thrice. Inquisitive eyes stared right back at you.
“W-what… are you?” Instinct commanding your body to retract deeper into the sheets.
A sharp cough halts your actions, drawing your attention back to the man as he lowers his hand down from his lips.
“She’s a Melusine, they prefer to be addressed using she/her pronouns,” he elucidates, an ever so subtle chastise in his tone.
“Oh…” You advert your gaze again, shame creeping onto your cheeks from your unintentional discourtesy.
A few breaths of silence follow, he observes you studying everything but the two figures just beside the bed.
Your fingers soothing over the soft cotton nightgown against your skin, a change from that restrictive and ornate dress.
“We, Melusines, helped you change out of that wet dress. Big sister Sedene said you’d get sick if we left you in that.”
It looks like your diverted gaze wasn’t as subtle as you originally thought. Sheepishly you extend your gratitude.
“Thank you…” Your words draw out, a brow quirked as your stare reminded on her short form.
“Kiara!” She points to herself with a mitten hand.
“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish.
Her mittened hand then gestures to the towering man beside her.
“This is Monsieur Neuvillette! He’s the one who carried you here,” she announces.
“T-thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You could only gather the courage to glance at the wall behind him.
“Just Neuvillette is fine,” his tone melodic and calm. “Are you able to sit up?”
Nodding your head, you attempt to fight through the fatigue of your muscles. Neuvillette and Kirara offer their assistance, his firm hands guiding your body up as Kirara adjusts the pillows to support your back.
Once you were situated, he reached for the bowl placed down earlier. A light clink sounds out from a spoon clattering about the porcelain dish. You glance at the contents, noting the clear amber broth.
“This should be kind on your stomach while providing you with some much-needed hydration and nutrients.” He holds out the soup.
A quivering hand attempts to reach up for the bowl, only for muscles to lose to fatigue as your arm limply falls back down to your side. Your strength has yet to return.
Another clink from the spoon resounds in the room as it gets taken into the grasp of an attentive hand. He holds out a spoonful of the warm soup, but your lips remain shut as a skeptical gaze meets his.
“Please forgive this inconvenience, but it’s best that you eat something to regain your strength.” The spoon remains unmoving in his hand.
There’s a rumbling stir within him. A voice snarls into his ear, interrogating him as to why his hand is feeding the very devil who once bit it.
“If you don’t eat you won’t get better.” Kiara’s eyes are riddled with concern as she observes your sealed lips.
That was his rebuttal to that snarl.
The Melusines simply don’t wish to see a human in such a pitiful state. Blissful in their ignorance of events that conspired long before their birth.
Dignity overpowered by the guilt of seeing such pure eyes marred with worry.
Soon your lips part, accepting the spoonful of broth delicately offered by him. After he observes you swallowing the first sip, Neuvillette holds out another spoonful. You part your lips again.
Neuvillette overrides the clamorous warnings of his instincts with the duty of being a ‘good host’, bringing another sip to your delicate lips.
With a regular diet of warm broth with servings of Bulle Fruit on the side, you were soon able to pick up the spoon yourself. The fatigue that plagued your bones finally leaves, allowing you to support your body off the mattress which had your shape imprinted into it.
The Melusines, seemingly born infatuated with humanity, would often gather about your bed.
They were curious about you just as you were about them. To them, you’re the creature from those fairytales he’s read them.
In exchange for your recollections of warm Summer days and descriptions of lush lilac fields swaying in a gentle breeze, they reveal more about this village.
About how the estate you were currently residing in was refurbished by their own-mittened hands, taking inspiration from the various books depicting what human abodes looked like.
The beds, drapes, and even rugs are all arranged by them to create a lovely abode. A drastic change to the worn and rampaged shell it once was before their meddling.
Perhaps if he never filled their naive minds with those tales, they wouldn’t be enamored with you and humanity.
Or maybe it’s the vibrance of your smile that drew their naive souls closer. A warmth like a flickering candlelight beckoning a moth closer.
What are the odds that the hands of fate stayed so faithful to the details of a heroine from so long ago?
From your image to your bewitching mannerisms, and alluring voice, they’re all identical replicas. You and the ‘devil’ from that tale.
Wisdom from a lesson learned long ago, he must not repeat the same mistake. He must not be enchanted by the same flame which scorned him. He must ensure a breadth between you and him, just as those tiresome voices call for.
However, Neuvillette understands he has a responsibility as a host. Thus, he regularly checked on your condition, then when you were well enough to stretch your legs he accompanied you on strolls. Maintaining a respectable distance away.
He guided you through the marble halls of the estate, showing the library and bath which were yours to access whenever you wanted.
Rooms illuminated with the muted glow of luminescence gems and pearls. Water sourced from a hidden freshwater spring.
Impassive eyes observe yours as you look in awe at the facilities and commendations hidden deep under the tides. Were they comparable to the ones you’ve encountered back on the surface?
This estate, these wide stone halls, those pearls and jewels once scattered about, were all made just to please the bitter tears of a mortal. Perhaps his first attempt was too subpar to quell the longing to return to the sunlight.
But gauging from the glimmer reflecting off your eyes, it seems the Melusines attempt was satisfactory at least.
Today’s stroll took you outside of the estate, Neuvillette accompanying you about a routine walk, watching from behind as your eyes scan the dim realm.
The lanterns lining the path of Melusine's home grace the maroon pastures and rocky walls in place of the faint wisps of sunlight offered by the depths of the sea.
Very much expected for a village beneath the waves and earth. Were you reminiscing about the warm grace of the sun you felt up there?
It’s not fair to compare the vast sky of the surface to their cavern hidden away from the eyes of the mortals, perhaps even the divine themselves.
“Monsieur Neuvillette?” You began today’s attempt at a conversation.
“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment.
He keeps sentences brief, but informative. Counters to your attempts at conversation.
“I’m aware this might sound strange, but is there a dragon down here?” Turning back to face him.
His strides stop as a lull of silence falls over the both of you. The weight of his unshaken gaze upon your shoulders caused them to tense up.
Your hands find each other for comfort under his oppressive stare as he awaits the reason behind this odd inquiry.
“W-well you see, Fontaine has been having awful weather for years now. Saltwater running crops and persistent heavy rain, it’s because the Hydro Dragon is crying from his loneliness. I was selected and offered as his bride, to stop the rain, that’s what The Oratrice instructed,” you babble out.
“So…do you know where he is?” Sheepishly you glance up.
The lilac hues of his eyes connect with yours as his lips remain unmoving. Staring into your eyes as he contemplates what you have just revealed to him. Your hands fumble together as you await his response.
“So humans are still telling that local legend…” He sighs.
He has to rein it back. The torrent which threatens to brew within him. Deep breaths to remind himself about the nature of mortals.
Humans are fickle and meek creatures who constantly yearn for something divine to worship, a figurehead to guide them in the turbulence of life.
When faced with hardship and destitution, they believe such concepts to be punishment from above.
Thus, they invent traditions to appease those false idols. Going to great lengths in attempts to pacify those unseen forces, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own.
Perhaps this was the trait of mortals that made them so favored by the usurpers, their naive devotion feeding into the greed of selfish gods.
Maybe that’s why those false idols uprooted the land that belonged to dragons.
“I wonder just how far that fable has spread by now,” he sighs again.
His lashes flutter shut in exasperation as a huff leaves him. It was a moment before they flutter back open to hone in on you. There’s no use in keeping his identity from you any longer.
“Do I seem lonely in your eyes?” Baritone voice steady and low.
No sounds fall from your agape lips as your eyes reexamine his features, this time shamelessly ogling the peculiar details you’ve brushed off previously.
Do you notice it now? How his ears were a bit too pointed, or those two particular cerulean strands of ‘hair’ poking out from his snowy locks.
As you study the specifics of his eyes, do you now comprehend the sharp dark pupils that cut through the multitude of lilac shades? Much like a shadow cutting through a field of lavenders.
“You’re the Hydro Dragon,” you deduce.
He nods in confirmation. Only causing your eyes to scan over him again as your mind reels back from this revelation.
In those stories you’ve read back on the surface, how did they depict him? As a towering scaled beast with fangs and claws? Are you wondering why he’s not matching that description?
“I’m aware that my current shape might not convey such a presence, ” he answers your unspoken question.
He fights for his lips to remain stoic, not allowing the weight of a frown to pull them down. You don’t know, you don’t need to know, he reminds himself.
A detail excluded from the pages of that tale, the ‘princess’ would only ever look at him, would only ever smile at him when a dragon took on this shape. A form which mirrors humans.
In fact, she was so fond of this human shell of his that she cursed him to dwell within it for the rest of eternity.
Neuvillette takes another deep breath, quelling the stir once more. You look like you had more questions.
“So… does that mean the need for a bride is fictitious?” You clutch your hands tighter.
Some years ago, the Melusines were born from spilled blood. A new generation of successors of the brethren he once forsaken. Making this prison much less lonesome, voiding the accuracy of the sentence in that tale.
If that was the case, then why did the waters still rage? Why did the pittering of rain drown out all bird songs and tumults of perplexed citizens? Is there a way he could simplify the details missed by storytellers for generations?
After that ‘happily ever after’, a dragon cursed his devil just as she cursed him.
No, such expositions would be an unfair burden upon your shoulders.
“It’s not fictitious.” Turning to gaze out at the depths of the underground realm, he takes a breath before continuing.
“The land which your nation, Fontaine, resides on is stolen land,” he reveals. “More accurately all of what you know as ‘Teyvat’ was stolen from the dragons, my fellow brethren.”
The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on.
“My brethren were banished to the depths for the sake of humanity. A dragon’s rage isn’t something that can be easily quelled.” He glances back at you.
“A union between a dragon and a human, a show of peace between the two species. Even if the origins of this ritual have been embellished heavily, it serves the same purpose to pacify the ancient dragon’s rage,” he concludes.
Neuvillette wonders if this tale was enough to satisfy your inquiry, if his attempt at the human practice was enough to simplify the events muddled and twisted by time.
Impassive eyes scan over your expression, not missing the glimmer ever so bright within.
“So… has the rain stopped?” Your hands almost clasped together in prayer.
He nods, the shine growing ever so luminous in those blameless irises, one he couldn’t resist the enchantment of. That all too familiar look in your eyes.
“That’s good.” A slow smile made its appearance upon plush lips.
Ah. He remembers what that look was called, voices of recollection pulling him away from the edge. Just before he fell into bewitchment once more.
That look wasn’t relief, nor was it salvation. It's duty. He takes a slow and deep inhale.
Just as it was all those years ago, the narrative of this tale did not stray away from the plot. He must be more careful.
There’s been a still lull engulfing the atmosphere down in a hidden cavern. So still in fact that walks amongst maroon patches of grass have stopped. Your body was well enough to explore the corners of the state without assistance.
No reason for him to remain by your side throughout the day, and no reason for you to shadow him.
Neuvillette and you keeping mostly to one’s self. It was just the natural progression of things. After all, the ritual had been completed and the tides had receded. You’ve served your duty once more.
A foreign aroma was wafting through the estate, strange enough for Neuvillette to leave the library to investigate the origins of this aroma.
Steps slowing as the clacker of pots and pans becomes more distinct. The entrance of the estate kitchen comes into view, and he peers in to see a few familiar faces.
“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence.
An assortment of vegetables, spices, and even some meats from fresh catches were spread about the table as a pan sizzling over a crackling fire.
Ingredients gathered from offering dropped down below the tides. The recent influx could be attributed to how the hymn of the rain has ceased.
“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette.” Your smile greets him.
Ah, he’s found the explanation behind the foreign aroma and why the variety spread of ingredients was being utilized in a kitchen that was once mainly created just to match those diagrams drawn in novels.
“I hope you don’t mind my use of the kitchen, I wanted something other than…Consomme Purete.” Wiping your hands with a rag.
Yes, Consomme Purete.
It was the dish served when you had first woken up, a light but nutritious soup that was kind on your stomach. It had the right amount of hydration balanced with nutrients to sustain oneself, a perfect dish.
The only dish cooked in this kitchen, that was until today.
Removing a pan from the heat, you carefully transfer the contents onto a plate then place the pan back on the wood stove.
The rich aroma caused an audience of bright-eyed stares from the Melusines to center upon the steaming plate. Their tails make their excitement clear as they gaze upon a dish they’ve never seen before.
Was this a new passion of this life?... Or was it just one he never got the chance to witness?
Was this the devil before the role of a bride was forced upon her? A devil he’s never known, for all he saw was her performance to stop the deafening rain all those years ago.
His attention was brought back as the chime of cutlery against porcelain was heard, cooked veggies stabbed between the teeth of a fork.
Cupping a hand under the fork, your body leans down to the Melusine’s height, feeding them a bite of the fragrant dish. The wags of their tails increase in cadence as they chew.
“This is Tasses Ragout, tasty isn’t it?” The corners of your lips curl as you watch their little heads nod eagerly.
The suspicion melts from his gaze as he observes to the delight in their expressions, a few mitten hands tugging at the skirt of your gown for a bite. A giggle bubbles from your throat.
A scene mirroring that of a mother trying to appease the appetites of her ravenous young.
Soon your eyes connect and he straightens his posture. Brushing away the nonsensical musing, lilac hue advert away momentarily to recompose themselves before returning.
“Would you like a taste?” A fork offered in his direction, beckoning closer to take a bite.
There’s a myth he’s read about, of a forbidden apple held out by the tempter of all tempters, an apple so red and lustrous it made any mouth salivate.
“Thank you for the offer, however, I’ve already had my lunch.” He refrains.
A bite from that forbidden fruit was the genesis of disgrace and banishment. A betrayal of commandments once promised. Neuvillette won’t be deceived again.
--------------------------------------------------------------
“Monsieur! Monsieur! Come look!”
Mittened hands grasping upon his coat and gloved hands as a circle of Melusines guides him through the winding halls, anticipation amping their voices.
There’s a chorus of giggles resounding through the halls, a joyous clamor of pattering steps against the marble floors.
The estate has been lively ever since your arrival in that white dress, a liveness which reaches his pointed ears even from behind closed doors.
Regardless, he allows himself to be towed by their skipping steps. Leading him to a room he recognizes as a space where many fabrics and gowns were collected and stored.
Garments made with the intent to be sold to Fontainians, but their crates were capsized over by the ravenous tides. Saved from watery abandonment by curious hands.
While this form of his could wear a few of those garments, the Melusines had statures much too short for pools of fabric to not drag along the ground. Thus, that collection of fabrics found themselves collecting dust.
Their steps abruptly stop just at the threshold of the door, mittened hands pressed up against their lips signaling for him to remain silent.
Soon their sights glance into the room as he follows, lilac eyes opening ever so slightly wider as they process the scene in front of him.
Evening gowns crafted by skilled tailors to be sold to Fontanian ladies, you had the right frame for those garments as well.
A trail of lustrous sapphire silk gathered behind your figure. The artistic stitching and pleating draping the silk around each curve of your body as if you were the only person meant to wear it.
A few Melusines fussing about the silk train, ever so curious of humanity, they must’ve requested for you to dawn the gown.
Just as they often had requested for him to dawn those fickle suits and coats for their enjoyment.
It seems you bent to their childish whims just as he does.
“How do you like it?” You ask your audience, twirling about in front of a mirror.
It’s different from those hardier dresses for when you wandered about the village and estate, in comparison this dress was much less practical.
“It’s beautiful, Madame!” Their round eyes were enamored.
“I’m glad, who knew you had such an aesthetic eye.” Your expression softens.
Bending down to Carole’s height, you scooped her up. Cradling her as your forehead touches her horns gently.
“Thank you for such a lovely dress.” Placing tender pats along her head, careful to not disturb her horns and hair.
Carole leans into your touch as your smile widens. Twirling once more with her in your arms, giggles ringing throughout the room.
Until your head peeked up, finally aware of the silent spectator just behind the door frame.
“Oh, hello Neuvillette,” you greet him with a smile he doesn’t return.
A tense lull creeps in, and a chill begins to mix with the quiet atmosphere. Lilac eyes pass over your form as Carole remains sat in your arms.
“Monsieur! Isn’t Madame pretty? Look!” Cheery and oblivious voices chime returning the warmth to the air.
Mitten hands release your skirt as they skitter toward his towering figure. Pride shines in their beaming smiles, awaiting validation of their handy work.
Steadfast eyes lowering themselves to the level of their short statures until the sharp edges gradually dissipate.
“A fine effort indeed.” A gloved hand extends to rest atop their heads.
Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment
A warmth in those lilac hues, endearment no word could ever encapsulate fully.
“Are they your daughters?” Your head slants to the side.
His body stills, strictness reinstated in those violet irises just as they met yours. Studying that look within your polite smile, one which didn’t seem to reach your eyes.
Gloved hand ceasing all movement, his concentration now elsewhere. That expression ghosting your face, what does it mean?
“My apologies, was it too impudent of a question?” Your gaze adverts away, searching for reprieve in this heavy hush.
A deep breath as he formulates his response.
“I don’t share blood with them if that’s what you’re inquiring. However, they are the successors of my brethren.”
“Oh, I see,” you hum.
Neuvillette returns to patting their heads, while you readjust your hold on Carole. Subtly bouncing her, while turning back to face the standing mirror.
Casting a glance, he could discern the softness returning to that polite smile. Yet, the dragon has yet to unravel that luster in your irises.
An audience of bright eyes switches between the Monsieur and Madame.
--------------------------------------------------------------
“Bring these to her, you should greet the Madame!” Tiny hands push against Neuvillette’s back.
The traitorous clicks of his shoes against marble expose his approach.
Your head peers up from the book resting upon your lap, in the midst of reading a tale aloud to an audience.
Just in time to catch the tall figure of Neuvillette emerging into the library at the behest of the Melusines.
Lilac eyes meet yours ever so briefly before his gaze averts elsewhere. Gloved hand adjusting a bundle hidden a broad back, brings the other hand up to clear his throat.
“The Melusines found these when retrieving some offerings from the water, I believe you’ll enjoy them.” He presents their trinket.
A simple collection of dainty petals clustered together, pastel hues contrast against vivid virescent leaves. A quaint ribbon tied around the stems holding the bunch together held out in front of your face.
The recipient stares in round-eyed astonishment at the fragrant blooms before a smile melts into your lips.
“Thank you.” You accept the bouquet from his hand.
Admiring the rustic arrangement and the saccharine aroma as the Melusines sat around you leaned in closer to catch a whiff too.
“These are called Pluie Lotus up on the surface, they smell nice right?” Giggling lightly as you held the bouquet closer to their noses.
Grin ever present upon your lips as your soft eyes watch their marvel of such simple weeds. A bloom foreign to this realm abandoned by the sunlight.
There’s subtle slack in his posture, a budding smile just about to unfold just as your head peers back up. Every fiber in Neuvillette’s being tenses, goosebumps slithering up his nape.
Frozen there only able to witness your eyes study back and forth the hues of his irises and the periwinkle color tinting the fragile petals.
He watches an epiphany light up in your widened eyes as the bouquet was lifted higher, turning back to face him.
Don’t. Don’t say the words he knows are hanging off the tip of that honeyed tongue.
“They are the same lovely color as your eyes, Neuvillette.” You beam at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling from the stretch of your lips.
His posture returns to its rigid and upright state, a hand hidden from view balls up into a fist.
A sharpness threatening to break through leather confines and into his palm, as if they were attempting to grapple the surging torrent stirred up within himself.
Why? Why was this line from a script being recited word for every damn word? All said with that saccharine smile plastered over those wicked lips?
Indecipherable eyes narrow ever so slightly before he catches himself. Reining in the torrent just before it seethed out.
He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness.
“Do excuse me, please return to your reading session,” he utters his parting.
Promptly turning to return to his secludedness, stepping past the Melusines gathered by his side.
Swift strides through the empty halls leaving you to your peace and him to his peace, just as it should’ve been. Much to the pouts of a disappointed audience.
However, he didn’t have the mind to contemplate their discontent. Not when these rabid bellows drown out every other thought in their rancor.
Like a sea starved for vengeance, ravenous to settle a debt against those vile gods and their beloved creations.
A brass knob was abruptly twisted, hinges squealing in surprise as at the force as Neuvillette shuts it behind himself.
Ragged breathes resounding through the reprieve of his bedroom. Away from innocent bystanders and the devil who showed her face again after all these centuries for an encore.
Has he not been humiliated enough? He tugs at his cravat, freeing himself from the fickle decoration constricted about his neck in this already imprisoning body.
A form which binded him no matter how violently talons and fangs clawed and chewed, unable to leave a singular dent upon this damn curse.
This was humiliating enough, bound to this cove that separated him from the sea which cries for their sovereign.
He once believed this penitentiary was obscured away from the peeking eyes of capricious gods. Perhaps, he’s wrong.
Why is this fantasy being played out right in front of his eyes now after all these years?
To have you by his side, to have you reside in the home he craved out and inlaid pearls into, to see you smile and cradle young against your bodice. It’s insulting.
Because this was all he ever wanted. This was all he had ever wanted.
The lonesome dragon only ever yearned for a maiden’s endearment. He once believed she adored him back just the same.
Because while she lay within his arms under silken covers, her bare skin pressed against his mortal shape, her enchanting eyes always regarded him with such tenderness as her delicate hand stroked his cheek.
A glimmer he once believed was love.
The tale written along the parchment implied that the ‘princess’ loved the dragon. However, that was inaccurate. She never did.
For if she loved him, then she wouldn’t have deceived him.
She wouldn’t have ever whispered his secret to the town’s folk. Those foul creatures who then used his secret, which was once reserved solely for ‘you’.
Why? That simple question taunted him for decades as he rotted in this mocking solitude.
Why did ‘you’ yearn for the sun more than him? Was his love not enough to replace the warmth of a star? Was the home he made not enough when compared to the extravagance of humanity?
Or was it because blood and water, no matter how much they intertwine and mix, could never produce wine?
If… if the Melusines had been born just a few centuries earlier, then would you have been satisfied by his side? An answer he could already discern.
Because after his decades of solitude within these deridingly hushed walls, he finally accepted the truth.
She loved her people, they took up all the space of her heart, leaving no room for a prideful leviathan.
What a clever plan it all was, to distract a sovereign from his duty, cleansing stolen land with a flood of vengeance, by sending a maiden.
A woman so bewitching, so enchanting, and so lovely, that a proud dragon couldn’t resist bending to her whims. Spilling the secret hidden deep within him into her ear.
Abandoning his true form to be confined in the shape she favored the most. Then lured up to the surface, suspicions obstructed by the dazzlement of a false welcome from the nation of Fontaine.
Unaware until the scorching knife was already lodged in his back. Using the secret he had only ever told you, those meek creatures of the usurpers wished:
‘For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides’.
What a clever ploy, a masterly crafted master plan. Did that Oratrice bestow it upon mortals? Or was it your own little scheme? A devil in human skin who must’ve been enlisted by the god themselves.
That day when he was chained by that loch, you didn’t even bother to grace him with your presence.
You cruel, cruel devil whose heart only had room for her fellow citizens of Fontaine, whose eyes only ever glimmered with duty.
Neuvillette had finally comprehended the truth, he had made peace with the disgrace he brought upon himself.
So why did those vile false gods dangle you back in his face? They had already taken fragments of his authority.
Was his torment entertaining to them?
Lungs shaking with unsteady breaths, he could feel the pricks of scales dotted along his skin only for this body to swiftly reject it. A turmoil of draconic influence constrained by a mortal curse.
Like a beast kept in a cage much too small for it. If Neuvillette wishes for this agitation to cease, he must cease the stirred emotions.
Emotions don’t settle quickly once agitated like sand attempting to settle at the bottom of violent tides. He paces his shuddery inhales, biding in the solitude of his room until the storm dissipates.
To avoid the placid lake within him from thrashing violently to the woes from the throb of a wound which has yet to scar over, Neuvillette found it best to avoid your presence.
The lanterns outside the Melusine’s homes had long gone out as they followed their routine bedtime.
The expanse of the cavern dimmed to near blackness, the small creatures all tucked away soundly in their beds. A hushed ambiance provides a suitable environment for reflection.
His steps flatten the grass underneath as they accompany his strides with their rustling.
The absence of light had never bothered him, it’s within his nature to detest it. Any beast would withdraw away from the mere image of fire.
The rustle of the grass halts, a wispy aroma of smoke wafts towards him. It doesn’t take long to identify the origin. Only a small flicker broke through the shadows, candlewick fostering only a weak flame.
But it was enough to fend the shadows away from your frame.
The flame’s light caught on each subtle ripple of the pond you were kneeling over.
The seemingly unremarkable pool served as the sole entrance and exit to Merusea Village. Where the Melusines traveled through to gather food, fresh water, and trinkets swallowed up by the waves.
Cold waters catch the bitter droplets of your pained eyes in the reflection of the ripples upon the surface, the distorted silhouette of a weeping devil.
An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils.
Under the rich aromas wafting from the kitchen, behind the diligently tailored gowns, and hidden in the cadence of your voice as you read tales aloud, laid the yearning for the rays of a bright star.
You’re human, a creature fleeting and meek by nature. Blood yearns to be with blood just as every drop of rain yearns to return to a cloud.
A sharp rustle of grass under a heavy step jolts your hunched-over posture straight, head whipping around to face the uninvited audience.
Once those weeping eyes recognize the brooding figure in front of them, your face adverts away from his direction. Shame evident upon your expression.
A concerned hand reaches out only to retract away, contrition marring his shut lips as Neuvillette diverts his eyes too.
Fire burns indiscriminately, even the dancing flame of a candle can sear its mark upon skin. Neuvillette knows this all too well, for the lesion he received from embracing that flame once still festers even after all these years.
However, lilac eyes pan back towards the orange glow illuminating your melancholic face. Warm hues contrast against the wet trails down your cheeks. There’s an ache more agonizing than a festering wound.
His steps advanced closer until he was knelt down by your slump frame. A benevolent touch lands upon your shoulder. Guiding you away from the taunting waters and into his arms, hiding your face in his broad shoulder.
Offering you a semblance of warmth in a coven shunned from the grace of gentle sunlight.
With your face away from his gaze, the cacophony of your sobs returns, digging your fingers into the folds of his dress shirt.
Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.
Perhaps a foolish dragon has yet to learn his lesson, still lured in that the brilliant light of a flame.
A gentle hand traces up along your back, softly brushing your hair away to reveal the skin of your nape to his sharp pupils.
Honed in upon untainted skin, the courts of rebirth may have removed the proof of your damnation, but not the hex itself.
Or maybe, a foolish dragon feels some responsibility for being the one to curse you to this fate.
A mark once imprinted upon your nape by a lonesome dragon, a heavy oath sworn to you engrained into the very fabric of your soul amidst the first rendition.
One which then became the cursed chains that sunk you under the unforgiving waters.
It’s said that love is heavy, a weight greater than the density of water. A heaviness which could sink anything and everyone under salty tides.
A heaviness originating from this accursed prison where a disgraced being resided.
Even as the earth above welcomed new generations as they said goodbye to bygone times.
The solitude of a fool turning into ravenous waves which seeped into soil until its appetite was satiated by the return of its beloved treasure.
It’s his fault that the tides stole you from the sunlight.
The courts of rebirth had already forgiven you of this burden, not a single memory remaining of that tale.
What right does he have to place it back upon you? There’s no point in punishing one for a sin that had been cleansed by the tides of time.
You didn’t deserve to be held away from the warmth of a benevolent sun.
To have been dragged down below to these depths. To have been stolen away from the warmth of the sun by the command of fickles gods and ancient grudges.
It’s much too severe of a sentence for you, someone who didn’t deserve to repent for a sin that wasn’t truly yours.
Is it okay for his hands to wipe away your tears when this cursed dragon was the cause of your agony?
Even if it’s wrong, Neuvillette holds you closer. Even if he didn’t have the right, he pressed your face in his shoulder. Allowing the vehemence of your tears to scorch his skin as you buried your cries into him.
Glancing at the pool you had been leaning over, he watches as the ripples of the surface taunt you and him the same.
Two beings whose bodies couldn’t embrace the tides. Two cursed beings who’ve been trapped in repeated play.
“It seems you’re bound to this prison as well.” He scorns those gods and ancient grudges, but he scorns himself the most.
Confined behind a human face and a human body, a traitor who’s lost his birthright over the waters who couldn’t welcome him.
How can a cursed dragon quell those choking sobs of yours? How can he atone for his selfish sin?
Neuvillette takes a deep breath just your tears continue to soak his skin. Steeling his resolve, he meditates on the one resolution he can offer you.
“Fontainians still tell a tale about a princess who wished a dragon to become a prince, yes?” He begins.
After a pause filled with hiccups and shaky breaths, you nod your head as an answer.
“It was when she spoke the dragon’s true name that he granted her one wish,” he recounts the tale, feeling the trembles of your shoulders.
“That part of the story isn’t fictitious,” he reveals.
Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions.
However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs.
“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.”
Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes.
“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire.
“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.”
“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes.
He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing.
“That is what you must find for yourself.”
Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end.
The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead.
“Oh?”
“Oh?”
What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.
Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor.
“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you.
Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath.
“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up.
Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.
The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon.
He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly.
“Oh…”
It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight.
This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.
It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you.
It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his.
Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him?
“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws.
“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?”
Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?
The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions.
You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire.
Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs.
Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation.
“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen.
Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl.
“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over.
“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.
A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel.
This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup?
“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness.
Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat.
“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises.
A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space.
“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something.
As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders.
Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride.
You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return.
“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation.
The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips.
“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something.
After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.
Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup.
In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint.
--------------------------------------------------------------
“Is your name Édouard?”
Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.
You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.
Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.
However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?
Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows.
Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics.
Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.
He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name.
Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.
All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.
He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.
“There’s a tear in your coat…”
Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear.
“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams.
He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say.
“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer.
It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands.
To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment.
Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host.
“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.”
His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.
As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.
“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands.
Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.
Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him.
“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair.
Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.
However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture.
Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.
His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table.
The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences.
“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth.
Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.
Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.
Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long.
“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself.
Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.
Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body.
Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.
If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them.
Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.
Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure.
By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.
Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support.
Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.
The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands.
“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude.
He hums an answer.
“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows.
“Why did you say that?” You finish your question.
Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences.
The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool.
“Do you really wish to know?” He warns.
You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here.
Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat.
“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals.
The needle stops.
“A curse?…” you stammer out.
Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.
The answer was sitting just in front of him.
“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?”
To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.
But such hands could not touch a being such as him.
“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept.
“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber.
Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.
To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.
For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea.
Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse.
“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper.
Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears.
“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.”
Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale.
Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?
A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal.
Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape.
Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.
More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.
Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?
The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal.
A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool.
What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.
A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting.
“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present.
Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer.
“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.”
Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves.
He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.
Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.
“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap.
A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace.
However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice.
Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.
Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.
It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles.
Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame.
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“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor.
Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.
Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette.
“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.
“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.”
“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…”
There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt.
“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.”
She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face.
“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate.
You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel.
“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns.
A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets.
Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd.
“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress.
“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside.
“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted.
Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.
They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses.
He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.
For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison?
His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now?
“Could you be expecting?”
Huh?
Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.
Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation.
“Will there be a new addition to the village?”
“How long do we have to wait?”
“Are we getting a brother or sister?”
Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat.
“No,” he coughs out.
A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes.
“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement.
A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.
A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine.
“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps.
You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.
A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down.
“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles.
Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness.
Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time.
Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?
Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?
“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks.
Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down.
“Where does a baby come from?”
The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.
If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?
How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?
“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.
“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?”
At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.
The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve.
“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.
“Of course, Sébastien.”
His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts.
“Regrettably, that is not my name.”
“Was it at least a decent attempt?”
He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.
Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed.
His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.
Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.
Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.
No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.
“Do you miss the sea?”
Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.
Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response.
“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.”
After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.
Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight.
Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.
One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.
For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.
“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment.
Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips.
His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.
Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.
However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands.
When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle.
It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.
The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish.
A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.
An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…
Neuvillette clears his throat.
“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you.
“Oh?...” The comb stops.
At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone.
A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff.
“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly.
The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’.
Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily.
He needs to leave now. For your sake.
Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face.
Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?
The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn.
The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin.
How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering.
A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory?
Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.
No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.
Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct.
From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly.
But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity.
He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows.
Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought.
The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.
“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.
Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust.
“Neuvillette?”
He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust.
The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart.
Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure.
However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment.
So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets.
A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer.
“Neuvillette?…”
His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion.
He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face.
“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes.
The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form.
“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut.
“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown.
Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.
“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.
Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.
“...But I missed you…” You whisper.
Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth.
“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this.
“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.
Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body.
“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit.
“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder.
Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes.
Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.
“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours.
Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat.
And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy.
“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it?
Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long.
Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat.
The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.
His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air.
Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.
A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away.
Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?
They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.
Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right?
His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.
Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise.
His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections.
Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?
Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?
There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch.
Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper.
Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin.
Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.
A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.
Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit.
Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.
Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires.
A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.
Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well.
Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.
Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.
He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?
His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you.
There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.
Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up.
Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.
Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat.
Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds. Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.
The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.
Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.
The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.
They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried.
The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before?
Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows.
“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face.
This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils.
Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?
That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress.
“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him.
Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.
An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets.
Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?
A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.
His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit.
Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.
The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities.
“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort.
Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon.
“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice.
Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.
The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.
The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.
The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.
As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter.
A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.
It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.
Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him.
That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight.
Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life.
One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been.
Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.
Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.
His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.
Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for.
Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.
Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.
A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.
Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up?
“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear.
Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you.
“That’s too bad.”
His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms.
He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.
Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you.
The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.
Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.
Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him.
Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat.
A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.
Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity.
Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.
As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his.
In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?
Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.
He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.
Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface.
Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.
Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was.
Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.
He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.
A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.
He doesn’t want to see it.
The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues.
But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.
What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much.
It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.
As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin.
Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them.
How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick.
You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.
How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters.
You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition.
If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting.
Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.
The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.
Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?
There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.
Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame.
There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.
Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.
His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips.
The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.
The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head.
Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.
He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all.
Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.
The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges.
There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.
No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.
Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls.
You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.
Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body.
An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse.
Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.
An offering made to him.
So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.
Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body.
He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.
Why not renew it?
Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.
Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape.
‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.
Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.
No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well.
It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.
But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper.
Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon burly a hand.
Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.
An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his.
Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.
Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind.
A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.
However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart.
The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession.
For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.
No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles.
He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.
Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown.
Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.
To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged.
Oh, how could he not love you?
The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.
A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile.
The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.
Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was.
The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.
Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls.
Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing.
Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.
Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe.
Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same.
With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.
The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you.
Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality.
He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure.
Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.
Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.
Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes.
Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.
However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy.
However, this wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance.
The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin.
A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers.
A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness.
A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.
Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort.
“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel.
You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.
Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you.
“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.
Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom.
“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand.
Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism.
“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue.
“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind.
A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him.
“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”
A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water.
--------------------------------------------------------------
“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”
“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice.
Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.
Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.
“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support.
With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.
Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.
What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface.
“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone.
However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall.
“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues.
‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears.
“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning.
There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.
But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water.
To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.
However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?
To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.
Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?
Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth?
His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.
No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending.
Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.
The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before.
“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him.
Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace.
As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile.
Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.
Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time?
Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours.
Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors?
A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.
Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon.
“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?
“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away.
Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.
“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.
Why must you keep lying to him?
Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.
Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away.
Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called?
“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him.
A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.
For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale.
“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over.
This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that?
“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle.
Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.
“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation.
Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.
“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.
The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.
Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in.
He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve.
“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know.
But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity.
He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires.
“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands.
He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his.
“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.
His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish.
Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.
Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.
Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions.
He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses.
The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks.
“Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now.
Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could.
Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches.
Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks.
Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here.
What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil.
“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”
A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?
Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks.
“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.
“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.
Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue.
“How could I hate you?” he confesses.
Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation.
For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time.
Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.
Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours.
“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks.
That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you?
Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long?
“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict.
“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.
He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes.
Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.
Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge.
A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods.
However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition.
If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.
Fin~
©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.
(190911) the 9th s05e01 : hyunjin.
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