âKyryll.â Youâre already pouting, arms crossed so haughtily across your chest as your stare pins onto the man entering his own residence.
âYouâre unfair.â
A deep chuckle as the door shuts behind him, his head tilting curiously to the side as he begins to shrug his coat off, the heavy fabric shuffling in his hands before it was hung up.
âOh my.â A gloved hand comes to rest atop your head, patting gently. âAnd here I thought I have been spoiling you.â His hand drags itself down the side of your head, brushing against your ears and tracing your jaw before it cups your chin.
âDo enlighten me on what Iâve been doing wrong,â A pause as that easy smile settles onto his face. âDearest light of mine.â
And it almost sways you. Such pretty words, spoken in such a soft, gentle tone. His charm was unfair, the hold he has on you far heavier than you would like to admitâ
But thatâs not your goal. No, no. You have a vision, an objective you wish to pursue; lest he somehow kisses your purpose away before they were ever in your reach.
âCould you please take more clothes off?â
And you watch as your dearest presses a scandalized hand against his chest, before his arms outstretched themselves to invite the you into his embrace.
And amusement glimmering in those pretty, pretty eyes of hisâ Just makes it stupidly enticing; the feel of his hard body enveloping your own never something you would dare to reject.
âI didnât know you were so eager to see me in such a vulnerable state, my light.â The feigned surprise does little to lighten the embarrassment; not even as he so effortlessly leans down to press the faintest of kisses to your forehead, this time lightly tracing his lips down the side of your head until his cold breath ghosts just above your ear.
âBut you must be careful to ensure,â He even pauses to teasingly blow a breath of air against your heated skin, chuckling when he hears you yelp in surprise.
âThat I am the only one to ever hear those perverted words of yours.â
(Damn this perverted fae!)
âI-I justââ Want to see the Raknik naked. Possibly. Noâ Definitely. Youâve felt his embrace, felt his passion; felt his love. Yet, an astonishing thing about Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins is that he had a preference for the darkness; an obscured vision where he could so lovingly whisper into your ears, every touch of his hands leaving you yearning for more, every lingering kiss searing themselves into your skin as you call out his name over and over and overâ
So, it isnât fair that heâs the only one with a lovely view.
âMm.â You can feel how his eyes practically rake over your form, how they trace over your curves and lingered on sensitive areas, lovingly relishing in the way you were so pliantly hiding your face into his chest, obscuring his view of the cute, embarrassed blush upon your cheeks.
(Whoâs being unfair now?)
âIf my eyes do not deceive me, I would say you are currently wearing around 4 articles of clothing.â
You slowly pull back from his chest, eyes tracing up the unbuttoned dress shirt that you had personally undone, up towards his Adamâs apple before looking up at him through your lashes before your gaze quickly turns downwards towards your own clothes.
âI-I guess?â It should be around thereâ
âHow about this?â The low whisper of his voice against your ear sends shivers down your spine, coupled with the icy cold hand that settled on the small of your back, slowly; slowly sliding down your spine to hold your waist as his fingers danced just beneath the hem of your shirt.
âFor every article that you discard, I will do the same.â Heâs breached the thin clothing of your pajamas, gloved hands tracing shapes upon bare skin as his voice begins to turn into a sound alike a purr.
As a maid of the esteemed House Ragnvindr, you take pride in your work.
There is much to do around the Dawn Winery estate. Sheets to hang so that they could dry in the cooling winds, shopping for ingredients for breakfast, lunch and dinner, stopping by Good Hunter when Adelinde requests specific meals, managing deliveries to Angelâs ShareâŚ
Itâs quite a tiring ordeal.
Butâ There is respite. There is rest for the mind, for the body, for your eyes. Hell, you could even describe it as healing for the soul if you truly give in to all of those less than appropriate whims and thoughts.
And that soothing rest for your very being came in the form of Master Diluc himself.
The crimson-haired gentleman, the dashing claymore-wielder, the strikingly handsome Master of House Ragnvindrâ Goodness, you could go on and on for forever.
He was just so attractive.
â(name), whatâs Master Diluc really like?â Mocoâs question is far too offhand, far too unexpected for the you who was too busy trying to swallow your lunch.
âAhh, thatâs right!â Hillie cuts in, her hands clapping together in thought. âYou usually attend to him for the night shifts, right? Adelinde said that youâd fit perfectly since youâve known him since young.â
âUhmââ A hurried swallow. âNormal, I suppose?â
âAhhn! Thatâs not what we mean, you know?â Moco huffs, an elbow on the table as she leans forward, a pout on her face. âSince youâve known him for so long, I thought weâd hear something juicier.â
âMoco, pressing for things like that wonât get us anywhere. Itâs rude.â Hillie has to apologize on both of their behalves, it seems.
Butâ Interesting things about Master Diluc? What information could you possibly have about the little boy youâve grown up with? Itâs all run-of-the-mill, normal everyday things despite your familiarity with the Young Master.
(Normal only because it was you, you suppose. But there is one specific thing youâve had a gripe with latelyâŚ)
âUhm⌠Master Diluc doesnât know how handsome he is?â
âEh?! Really?!â
ââ
âWelcome home, Master Diluc.â You smile, bowing as you greet him by the door.
âMm. Iâm back.â You can hear how the door shuts behind him, how he had gripped at his shoulder as he rolled his arm, soothing the potential ache there as you take a mental note for Adelinde later.
âAnd just Diluc is fine.â
And you bow once more, choosing to ignore his little comment before you move forth to help him shed his coat, watching the way his biceps flexed even when hidden under his dress shirt, how the dim lights of the mansion just so perfectly highlighted the hidden muscle just beneathâ Just barely out of your reach.
(Oh, how you would die just to get a chance to feel him up to your heartâs content. You do already get to brush against him when helping to do up his ties, or brush his hairâ But; oh, those musclesâ)
âMaster Diluc.â Your gaze is still politely pointed downwards, his coat already in your hands as you secretly marvel at the warmth of his clothing. âWould you like dinner first? Or would you rather have a bath prepared?â
And he takes a moment to think, messing with the hairtie of his low ponytail as he undoes the knot, letting crimson red flow down his shoulders and cascade down his broad back.
(Master Diluc is so unsparingly sexyâŚ! Please, please undress even more!)
âAnd, please, (name). Weâve known each other long enough for you to not have any formalities with me.â
âOh, but Master DilucâŚâ You want to pout, to complain that it isnât right. But you have a plan to enact, no? One concocted by the brilliant minds of Hillie, Moco and yourself.
âYouâre just too handsome for me to address you casually.â
And you bow once more, seemingly a bit too happy as you hum, daringly dismissing yourself before you cringe and cry about this dumb plan later.
(Unfortunately for you, you missed the sight of a far too stunned Diluc Ragnvindr, too lost in what he just heard that he had frozen still, hands halfway undoing the cuffs of his sleeves, and ears so red that it blended into his hair.)
ââ
And this plan continuesâ Even in the early mornings when Adelinde was the one overseeing duties, somehow roped into this silly plan.
âMaster Diluc, you look rather dashing today.â She nods at him in approval as she bows, politely watching as he partakes in breakfast. âEven more so now that youâre eating properly.â
âI see.â Strangely unaffected so far, it seems. Youâre peeking out from a hallwayâs corridor as you watch the exchange, curling your hand into a fist as you pump it into the air.
Itâs time to work hard again today! For Master Dilucâs sake!
âOld folk like us do love it when you handsome youngâuns have such drive in the vineyards, Master Diluc.â
A curt nod from the man himself as he continues to assist the more elderly of his employees.
âItâs not a big deal. Quality checks on the inventory are due in time.â
âMaster Diluc! Thereâs no need for such a good-looking lad like you to help with those!â
A blink, and a tilt of his head as he lifts the heavy crate like it was nothing, sleeves rolled up to reveal deliciously thick forearms.
âIt seemed that you were struggling, though. Do file a formal request to Adelinde, Iâll have more helpers hired.â
âOh, oh! Even though Klee thinks Big Brother Diluc is kinda weird and grumpyâ!â The Spark Knight herself even makes an appearance before him. âKlee still thinks youâre handsome!â
âIs that so?â He had kneeled down to her level on one knee, so politely receiving the sweet flower that she had picked as he held it gently in his hand. âI thank you, then.â
This plan⌠Doesnât seem to be the most effective. And you nearly want to sulk even as Klee rapidly blinks at you with both eyes from her distanceâ Her signal to you after you both found out she couldnât wink.
Which prompts the crimson-haired man to turn aroundâ Only to see absolutely nobody there.
So, the only way to confirm if your silly plan did any good?
âOh, Master Diluc!â Itâs you who plops down on the seat right in front of him, dressed down into your civilian wear at the Angelâs Share as you smile up at him, all happy grin and upturned eyes.
âHow was your day today?â
âIt wasâŚâ You even watch as his pretty eyes narrow, the frown on his features ever present as he wipes down the glass. âNormal.â
Thatâs it? Thatâs all you get after all that effort?
(Master Kaeya did teach you to be careful with your words, after all. But to be honest; you like being straightforward with your handsome Master Diluc.)
âYouâre so handsome, Master Diluc.â A dreamy sigh as you touch your cheek, taking the time to admire your all too attractive employer.
âIf only I had more off days so that I could come watch you moreâŚâ
And Diluc was already certain you had a hand in today beforehand, but hearing you directly confess something like that to him isâ
âI just think itâs a shame youâre unaware of how handsome you are, Master Diluc.â Thereâs a twinkle in your eye as you say it, still smiling; yet quickly turning into a cute pout.
âYouâre just too beautifulââ
And Diluc Ragnvindr himself thinks he might overload, the heat starting to creep up his spine and grip at his shoulders, towering up his neck and spidering to his ears.
âOh, Master Diluc! You look really cute like thatââ You didnât even know he could make that kind of expression.
And, if it was even possibleâ He had grown even redder. His ears practically burning as the cloth he was holding in one hand alights with a flame, the smoke being the first thing you wouldâve noticed had the glass in his hand not shattered.
âM-Master Diluc?!â
It seems your plan is only effective with you involved.
ââ
(âOur Master Diluc cannot feel that way! We must assure him!â
âArchons, thatâs easier said than done.â
âWhat about convincing Adelinde to place mirrors everywhere?â
âNobody wants thatâŚâ
âPhotos of Master Dilucâs loveliness?â
âThat sounds⌠Almost stalker like.â
Ah. Your hands clap together as an idea pops into your mind.
âThe sun is rising.â A whisper as your eyes struggle to blink, struggle to feel. Thereâs an ache, a strain in your body. It felt heavy, daunting.
It hurts.
âDonât worry, my love.â His breath feels warm, felt like the caress of the morning light against your freezing skin.
âIt wonât be cold anymore.â Because he was here with you. Your starlight, your sanctuary. You wonât be alone in this moment, wonât disappear all on your lonesome.
Yet, why does it hurt so much?
âDonât cry, my dear.â His forehead presses against yours, the strain in his voice barely even perceived by you as you hear only the slightest of laboured breaths. âIt wonât be long, okay?â
He comforts you, soothes you. Xavier lets you wait in his arms, holds you close, holds you tight. Itâs not odd that heâs reassuring you, not odd that heâs holding you so intimately.
But his eyes. Those comet blues of starlight slowly, slowly fading as they keep what they can of your gaze on him, lets your shivering hand come up to graze against his bloodied cheek.
Ah, you finally realize as your thumb brushes against a tear that couldnât be held back, racing past the grime and dirt on his face to patter onto your skin, wetting it with his regret, his yearning.
Youâre both not going to make it, it seems.
Yet, you donât want him to cry. You donât want him to be in pain. Itâs not his fault, you want to tell him, not his shame that fate lead you both to this end.
But you canât say even that.
âDearest,â He begins once more as locks of his hair enclose the both of you close, acting as curtains to hide away from this dreaded world, from this sorrowful end. âItâs okay.â
âYou donât have to try so hard anymore.â
Why? Why does he sound so soft even in these final moments, even in this painful time? Please, you want to beg him, beg of yourself. Just stay, even if itâs just a few more seconds, just a few more moments.
You donât want to leave him all alone. You donât want to leave him all by himself. You canât, you wonâtâ
âI love you.â Whispered so soft even the breeze felt like it was too much, too cold. âIâll see you when you open your eyes again, okay?â
Please. You want to scream, to beg any god up there to give you the strength to last just for that little bit more. You know, can feel it in the way his heart was beginning to slow as he holds your head to his chest, as his arms seem to loosen ever so slightly.
Caleb likes you. He really, really likes you. To the point that it would even be considered too much, to the point that he could drown the world out at just the sound of your voice calling his name.
That was exactly the reason why he was so disciplined, so hard on himself. He was used to yearning, used to being so close to the object of his affection, the apple of his eye. Itâs precisely the reason why heâs soâ Immune to you.
Because if he didnât, if he was a lesser man who couldnâtâ he wasnât so sure if he could control himself, wasnât sure if he could hold himself back from drowning in the most depraved of his desires.
Not even if they were dangled like low-hanging fruit right before his very eyes.
âCaleb!~â Youâre hugging his arm tight, pressed inbetween your chest and purposely rubbing the firm muscle between them. âHow is it? Isnât this dress pretty?â
The size doesnât matterâ It doesnât because he has your bra size memorized down to a T. He could calculate the surface area that was touching his arm, the volume that was enveloping the muscleâ
âItâs pretty.â His hand even reaches up to pat your head ruffling your hair as he lets an easy smile take over his face, completely, utterly unaffected by your coy ploy. âBut Iâd go with the lighter dress, though. Donât you usually prefer wearing those colours in spring?â
You: 0
Caleb: 1
ââ
The next move you pull is a little obvious, a little more mischievous with little room for miscommunication. Thereâs no way, right? Definitely not when youâre straddling his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and cuddling your face against his shoulder.
âCaleb~ Pay attention to meâŚ!â You even pout and bury yourself closer, taking a little too much delight in pressing against his well-built body and even playfully biting at his skin.
Surely, thereâs no doubt this time, right? Surely, even the densest of men would be able to tell, right?
âJust a little longer, pipsqueak.â Heâs ignoring you as his fingers fly across the holographic screens floating around him. âI didnât expect this to take so long either,â A sigh escapes him as his eyes meet yours momentarily, an apologetic hand coming up to stroke against your cheek.
âIâm sorry for making you wait longer than usual.â
It should make you feel badâ And it does. That usual genteel and softness that youâre used to, the pretty shine of his twilight eyes and the way he spoke to you oh so gently⌠It makes you feel bad for ignoring him.
Yet, you just canât help but be annoyed at the fact that he had a hand on your hip, had you balanced on his lap as he held you close. It would only take a small movement of your hips, a maybe unintentional adjustment of your position to brush against sensitive areas, to be able to be skin-to-skin with regions that youâve neverâ
But youâre still mad he canât even notice that a pretty girl was on his lap and waiting for him.
You: 0
Caleb: 2
ââ
Maybe it was a culmination of eventsâ From that night that you âcouldnât sleepâ so you had an excuse to cuddle him in his bed, to the time you âaccidentallyâ slipped and fell into his armsâŚ
Nothing seemed to work.
So you can only stuff your face with another spoonful of the parfait he had made for you, sitting across from him as he sat there, watching you with a far too cute smile on his face and his pretty upturned eyes.
(Curse his good genes. Curse his good cooking. Curse his damn discipline.)
âIs it really that good, pipsqueak?â Heâs chuckling, a napkin lightly dabbing at your cheek to get the spot of cream that had been erringly left behind after you had so angrily partaken in the sugary treat before you.
What should you do now? When youâve lost so badly, when there is no way to winâ
âCaleb, close your eyes.â
Maybe the answer wasnât in hintingâ Maybe the answer wasnât all that complicated. Itâs just a thought, a pebble that created a ripple that was the still pond of your mind.
So he does, with that ever so carefree smile, hiding the pretty purple of his eyes behind his pretty eyelids.
âI hope youâre not thinking of rubbing the cream all over my face, pipsqueak. That new cleanser you got for meâ Mmph!â
A kiss. Something soft, something sweet. And as abruptly you had started it, you pulled away just as fastâ Minus the larger hand that was already reacting, tugging you back in the moment you had even dared to leave, your lips captured once more without even a moment for you to breathe.
He finally breathes when you pull away, painstakingly separating him from your sweet, sweet lips as he meets your now slightly embarrassed eyes, your face tinted with that he feels through the palm of his hand, rivalling the heat of his own face.
âCaleb!â You hurriedly pat at his shoulder, your smaller head peeking over the top of his own as he piggybacked you around, hands doing their best to gently support the back of your knees as you point past his cheek.
âThe candy shopâs having a sale!â
Cute. The 7 year old you who he could toddle around with as he acted as your one and only stead, the chubby-cheeked you who awed and oohed at everything in your sight now that youâve gained the advantage of height upon his back.
So who was the only slightly older Caleb to deny you your wants?
Youâre cute even as you clamber off of him with a triumphant huff, patting the pockets of your shirt as you search for the secret pouch you always kept on handâ
And the one that you keep leaving in your clothes on accident when you put them in the laundry basket. But no worries, that just gives him a reason to make you indebted to him.
âCaleb!â Your teary eyes are only filled with glimmering gratitude as you hug him tightly, your small, small arms around his waist as your snot wipes against his shirt.
âThank you, thank you, thank you!!!â
Itâs still cute all the same.
So he chuckles, lets that easygoing smile of satisfaction settle on his face when you finally pull it out, hand high up in the air as you look on with triumphant gleeâ
That only grows when you see his amused chuckle.
âDonât worry! Itâs gonna be my treat tâday cause ya helped me!â You even have that cute, childish grin, showing off the missing tooth in your mouth and the thin layer of sweat on your skin from the afternoon sunshine.
Itâs all so cute. So you canât blame him for teasing, right?
âAww, pipsqueak, ya sure?â That boyish look. âI eat quite a lot, you know?â
âHmph!â Your grin only grows even bigger than before, a small hand patting his arm as if to reassure him. âDonât worry, Iâve been helping Grandma clean lots and lots to get extra sweets money!â
A hand on your hip as your bag of savings sits heavy upon your palm.
âThereâs nothing I canât afford, so do your worst, Caleb!â
One coin, two coins, three, four⌠Ah.
âNot enoughâŚâ You pout as you tiptoe at the counter of the register, staring and puffing your cheeks at the little display that showed your total as the nice lady at the counter looked⌠Slightly apologetic.
Maybe that whole chocolate bar was too much? But you really, really wanna try it with Caleb! Ahh, but you canât remove the soft peaches either because Granny would like them andâ
âWeâll take everything, please.â A jingle of coins and the flapping of a note causes your eyes to nearly bulge out of your head.
(How did he get so much money?! But waitâ Youâre supposed to be the oneâ!)
A pat to your head as your eyes hurriedly shoot towards the culprit who dared to pay for his own treat.
âItâs okay, pipsqueak.â He even chuckles as his hand stays upon your shorter self, patting you to keep you sated as
âIâm your big brother, no? Let me do it.â
âB-But I wanna treat you too!â Youâre tugging his arm off of your hair, trying to pull at the hand that was trying to pay the poor old lady manning the register. âItâs my turnâŚ!â
âA bag wonât be necessary, thank you!â
Youâre ignored. So it shouldnât be a surprise when youâre glaring and pouting up at him, all puffed up cheeks and cute, narrowed eyes.
âIâm buying next time, okay?!â
âWhatever you say~â
âA-Andâ Ya didnât let me pay, so you have to piggyback me home too!â
(That didnât make any senseâ But itâs okay. Heâll oblige you.)
What you didnât have to know, howeverâ was that Grandmaâs allowance for this week seems to have ran out again⌠But you donât have to know that. You just have to be happy, just have to keep smiling and grinning and eating together with him to your heartâs content.
(And youâll be happy if you get to save even more, right?)
Caleb has always been patient, always willing to waitâ Always there for you.
He was kind, he was patient. He never went beyond what you wanted, never pushed your boundaries.
(Because he never wants to see you cry. Never wants to watch you struggle.)
You are everything to him, everything that the world didnât deserve. But, even he has a limit when exposed to the temptations of a being far too good for this universe.
âHey,â Thereâs a nibble at your ear, his hot breath fanning over your warm skin and your fingers digging into your palms out of sheer nervousness as you feel another kiss to your neck.
âDidnât I tell you that you shouldnât do that?â Itâs whispered, breathy and hot and stifling as warm hands slither their way up to your waist, pulling you ever closer.
âYou just canât sit still, canât you?â Fingers trail your waist, the soft sensations making your skin tingle and your breath caught in your throat, making you feel your heart race and your stomach swirl.
(Was he always so big?)
A hand catches your chin just before you turn away out of shyness, out of embarrassment. He gently guides your ashamed, flushed face towards him once moreâ To face an anguished twilight.
âDonât look away from me.â It even comes out almost like a desperate growl, eyes strained with a hurt you canât fathom, a want you canât even begin to imagine.
âPlease.â
He has to hold himself back, he reminds himself. Has to watch as you swallow and steel himself when your hand reaches up to hold his cheek as you lay beneath him, letting himself get lost in the twinkle of your eyes and the softness of your touch.
(Something he canât have. Not in the way that he wants.)
So close, yet so far away as you stare up so innocently at him, your head tilted to the side in an innocence he just canât bring himself to taint.
Youâre just out of reach as his necklace dangles over your heart, the cold metal a contrast to your heated skin and your embarrassed face.
(But even the saints can be tempted by desire.)
âY⌠You canââ He can see you flush, see you hesitate. âKiss me more, i-if you wantâŚâ
Itâs a sentence heâs never thought he could ever hear, something that makes his adamâs apple bob when he swallows. Hard.
(The world was testing him, right?)
âYou say things like that,â He sounds defeated, voice teetering on a break as he lowers his head, hiding his face away into the crook of your neck, your arms hesitantlyâ Yet so excitedly wrap around him as he comes within your range.
âWithout expecting me to break.â Youâre testing him. He swears you are as the sweetness of your shampoo makes him take in another deep whiff, the softness of your skin an ever present allure that tempts him.
His teeth itch as he softly nips at your collarbone, a desire running deep into his veins to claim every patch you so generously exposed to him.
âI wonât be able to hold myself back anymore⌠So forgive me, wonât you?â
Itâs not often that the stone-faced, impassive, rumoured to be emotionless, well-known for his lack of tact, overtly serious and self-proclaimed âfeeble scribeâ of the Akademiya be so demanding.
âAh!â You didnât even notice the time. âIâm going to be late for drinks with Kavehââ And youâre already climbing over his lap, being careful to not press against the book he was holding up for the both of you as you try to reach the nightstand for the house keys.
The once Acting Grand Sage was infamous for his lack of emotions, for the cold look in his eye and the clear disinterest in others once he was off his working hours.
But heâs none of that now.
Not when his arm is tightening around your waist and dragging you back onto his lap, making you lose your center of gravity and surrender to the all too taut muscles of his arm, with your head landing upon a just as well-muscled chest.
(Not that youâre complaining.)
âNo.â Thereâs a clear furrow of his brow, his hair shifting as he sits up to better support the you who was enjoying this situation all too much as you slowly piece the puzzle that was your husbandâs thoughts together.
ââŚand why not?â Your hand places itself on his shoulder, steadying yourself as you adjust this pseudo-straddle heâs holding you in.
You donât get a response after that, only the one avoidant eye that wasnât hidden behind his bangs as he dodges your gaze entirely, too âengrossedâ in the book that you both were reading together mere seconds ago, with your head lovingly cuddled up on his shoulder and his arm around your waist.
(And even he himself is starting to get grumpy at that knowing look in your eye, no matter how cute he found it.)
So he avoids you. Freezes up and tries to process an excuse with that brilliant mind of his, cerulean-gold eyes flickering off to the side even when your hand pushes his bangs back to reveal the reddening tips of his ears.
âI donât have to explain it if you already know why.â Itâs muttered, mumbled. Softer than your giggles and gentler when he feels you peck his cheek.
âHmm? What was that, dearest husband of mine?â You poke at where you just kissed, finger gently prodding into the soft parts despite his chiseled face, a grin all too smug paired with the fluttering in your heart.
(Heâs so handsome even when embarrassed. Cute, adorable, so sweet, soâ)
And a larger hand catches yours, squeezing and pressing it against his face as those familiar eyes of his narrow at you despite the kiss to your hand.
âI wonât respond to questions you already know the answers to,â His breath is hot as it fanned over your fingers, his lips trailing over your skin with a faraway adoration in his eyes that youâre entranced by. âDarling.â
You feel your body move before you even know it, obediently settling against the lap that you had considered leaving as he readjusts the blanket over the both of you.
âNow stay.â His lips ghost your ear, tickling the sensitive area as you feel a shiver up your spine and his hand splaying out against your midriff to pull you closer against him. âPlease.â
Well, if your dear husband insists⌠Who are you to deny him?
Neuvillette has lived for centuries worth of lifetimes.
âSay, Neuvillette,â Itâs a voice that teeters upon a whisper as it gently floats into his ears. It caresses his skin in a way so soft that it felt weak, felt like a desperate question amidst the deprecating words.
âDo you⌠Not like being around humans?â
He has seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations, witnessed the daily lives of people from many cultures, have seen buildings that towered high and mighty and so prominentâ Only to be reduced to mere rubble and ruin, losing every last bit of the history it once proudly stood for.
Everything returns to nature once it has run its course, and the cycle will repeat, over and over and over again until this world tires and the ceases to exist.
The wind in his hair feels so gentle, the grass brushing against his coat as heâs kept close, his arms tight around your waist and only the scent of your hair fills his senses.
âYouâre so hard to read, Neuvi.â
Yet, it makes him wonder why the average human lifespan was always too short for his liking, makes him scorn the fact that with all the power that Celestia heldâ They had cursed the so-called âlesser raceâ with only mere decades of life.
It was unfair, unjustified in these long-lived eyes of hisâ But he has to consider consider himself biased no matter how heavy those unreasonable laws laid.
Because even he wasnât immune to the unsparing grains of the pitiless passage of time, no matter the immortality he had been âblessedâ with.
âMonsieur Iudex?â Playful. Endearing. With your head tilted to the side and that twinkle in your eye that he had so regrettably familiarized himself with for years upon years. âYou havenât said a word since Iâve been here.â
It makes his breath hitch, makes him have to remember to breathe. A voice that was something so utterly familiar, yet so bittersweet that it left a lingering aftertaste in his mouth that he was sure was hanging open, that he sure was going dry.
He has to rapidly blink himself out of his dazed stupor, cough into his fist to regain any semblance of self-control, to maintain any last bits of his dignity as the Ordainer of Inexorable Justice.
âSimply Neuvillette will suffice, MadameâŚâ Unsteady breath sucked in through his teeth.
â(name).â It feels almost sinful to say your name like this.
Beautiful. So beautiful. No matter how many times he had seeked you out in the cycle that never seemed to end. The âfirstâ meeting never failed to take his breath away, no matter how many centuries of life heâs experienced, no matter how many times heâs relived this moment.
Every last feature was just as he remembered, just as he had loved. The shy smile on your face and the ever present sparkle in your eye. Your fingers that held onto sheets of paper so tenderly that he just canât help but watch every flutter.
âPray tellââ Focalors, please save him from another awkward slip of his tongue. âHow may I help you today?â
âOh my. You are quite well-informed, Iudex, sir. I havenât even told you my name yetâŚâ Your giggle is ever so sweet, like a wind chime in a gentle breeze. Yet, your words prick into his skin, making the once steady smile upon his face waver and nearly wear thin.
Alas, it hits him once more that time can be so cruel. Perhaps, he was in over his head, simply too blinded by the fact that he was all too familiar with the you of the past, not yet fully administering in his mind that you, were not the same as you once were.
Because you wonât remember, no matter how many lifetimes have flashed through these eyes of his.
âI think Iâll love you forever, even if you canât understand it.â Your hands that were so tenderly held in his felt so warm, felt so right. It was like the gentle ocean waves were brushing against his palms and sending odd tingles into his nerves that made his heart race.
And he had hoped, so dearly and deeply for the next time. Over, and over and over again like a cycle that never seemed to stop, that never seemed to be come to an endâ
The first meeting was accidental, one that he didnât care for as you trailed after the reincarnated dragon on the beach, bombarding him with a curiosity that he wasnât familiar with, a warmth he thinks heâs never experienced.
(Yet, the villagers claimed that you hoarded a monsterâ His clawed hands and sharp teeth, his bulking stature and his slitted eyes. A beast, a lowly creature; one that surely didnât deserve a home, one that surely belonged to a witch.
He returned that day to a charred, ashen land you both once called home.)
The second was coincidental, the empty loss in his heart leaving him to wander for decades upon decades, mere grains of sand in his eyes that passed in an instantâ Until you bumped into him, your hat flying off your head as you apologised through heaved breaths and a heavy luggage.
(Hilichurls, they said. The calm afternoon walk you had taken that spiraled into something that was unforeseen, something that he could have prevented entirely had it not been for his negligenceâ Why? Why? Why?)
The third was his final straw. Grasping your hand as you withered away, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as your condition worsenedâ You were born weak, born fragile; it wasnât any of your faults, wasnât something that could be judged or blamed on someone.
Everything has its breaking point.
âSo I promise, NeuviâŚâ His name whispered on your lips sounded so pleasant, your cold hand touching his cheek as you started to fade away.
âThat Iâll fall in love again with you each and every timeâŚâ Until he could finally understand how you felt as the light in your eyes started to dim, when your pitiful hold on his hand faltered and turned limp.
âI⌠I apologize, Madame. I seem to have recognized you fromââ Another awkward cough into his palm to mask the embarrassment and the glowing red of his cheeks. âI was informed of your visitation earlier today. Iâm hoping your trip here was a pleasant one?â
He didnât know he would already mess up on the fourth cycle. And most importantlyâ He didnât know that it would be you that would be coming today, especially not simply to drop off documents pertaining to the Fortress of Meropede.
âOh!â Itâs a pleasant thought, you think. To have such an important man know your name, to know of your existenceâ And to even ask you how the travel was. âIt was quite pleasant, Monsieur Neuvillette. It was a nice change of pace fromââ
A clap of thunder cuts you off, the drizzle that had slightly inconvenienced your trip here starting to pour and drench the surface with its ruthless reign.
âGoodness me, thereâs quite a storm out there!â
He didnât mean to. Neuvillette swears it wasnât something that he could help as his face stays ever blank, stays ever unchanging. Perhaps it was the whiplash of meeting you once again, the bittersweet emotion on his tongue that refused to leaveâ And the way you called his name with so much familiarity that it started to hurt.
Has it really been that long since he had heard your sweet voice utter something as simple as his name? He truly was pathetic.
âIf it isnât too much trouble,â Heâs already standing up, pushing the neat stacks of paper aside as his shoes clack against his carpeted floor.
âWonât you stay a little while? Just until the storm passes.â
Neuvillette has lived for centuries worth of lifetimes. Yet, he doesnât know if he can ever get over the feeling of meeting you again.
Perhaps this time, he could give you the life you never got to live with him.
âAre you done?â Alhaitham is thoroughly unamused, his arms feeling like they were going stiff from trying to keep themselves still and in place for so longâŚ
Especially when heâs in the middle of reading and youâre too preoccupied with tying ribbons upon the thick biceps of his arms.
âRibbons are meant to make you prettier, not grumpier.â You pout, fixing the final few loops and tightening it slightly out of spite in efforts to make him wince even the teeniest, tiniest bitâ
But he doesnât even budge.
âIs that so?â He says it without even sparing a second of a glance towards you, eyes immediately flicking back to his book now that he had enough free reign to turn the page.
âMhm.â Youâre sighing as you hug his free arm to your chest, your head flopping onto his shoulder as you endear yourself to his arm. âBut your grumpy face made alllll the prettiness fade away and left behind all these muscles instead.â
Because you wouldnât even allow him to twitch even the slightest bit whilst in the midst of your handiwork; that being the elegant red ribbon fastened onto his arm, tight and only uncomfortable enough to make the muscles bulge the slightest bit.
âItâs okay, Haitham,â He thinks youâre about to spout something endearingly nonsensical again, as you tuck his non-preoccupied arm around your waist and settle yourself comfortably against his chest. âEven if your muscles stole all your prettiness away, Iâll still love you~â
âI love you too.â
Always so sweet, even if he was still confused as he feels you mess with the prettily tied ribbon, a smug look on your face and a mischievous sparkle in your eye.
âIf you love me lots, and lotsâ Youâll let me do anything, right?â
A furrow of his brow as his head finally tilts down to properly meet your gaze.
âWithin reason.â
(Thatâs a lie. He indulges you too often to deny you anything.)
And he, still has absolutely no idea what you are trying to pull. He can feel your finger trace a line down his arm, can feel your head cuddling itself against his shoulderâ And can feel you kiss around the pretty satin and even daringly biting down.
Several times, at that. Not hard enough to draw blood, not hard enough to harm himâ But enough for him to feel how badly you wanted to mark him as your own as you kiss over your own bites.
And your administrations causes him to tense, causes him to subconsciously flex and tighten the muscles in his arm all too suddenly, causing the ribbon to break under the tension and eject itself off his arm, off of the bedâ And somewhere into the room.
âYouâŚâ A sigh of defeat as he hears you giggle, feels you press a kiss to his jaw in an apology of sorts as he meets your playful, satisfied gaze.
Itâs cute. Too cute, if he was being honest.
So he really, really just canât help but to try to fight the blush on the tip of his ears that slowly cascaded onto his cheeks.
Alhaitham is more than willing to simply let you kiss him wherever you want.
âWhat⌠Are you doing?â
âSaying good morning to you.â You say it so nonchalantly, like it was the most common thing to do as your hands push the fabric of his shirt up just that little bit higher, fingers dancing along the defined lines of his abs as you humâ Innocently.
âI donât remember my face being on my stomach.â
âMaybe you should start putting it there next time.â
And all your grouchy, bookworm of a husband can do is sigh, the one eye that wasnât hidden behind this morningâs messy bangs twitching slightly before closing as he feels you kiss his cheekâ And grope at his abdomen once more.
Weekends are definitely your favourites.
So you cling onto him, crawling onto and straddling said tummy and smiling at how soft it felt when he was relaxed and not at all tense, your face buried into his pectorals as you pout up at him and use his soft, relaxed chest as a rest for your chin, eyes growing purposefully soft.
To bait him in.
âBut I think my favourite part of you is this, after all.â Your palms tap against his cheeks, pulling at the skin and laughing at the unimpressed look in his eye and the reddening flesh under your fingers. âYouâre so cute, honey.â
ââŚdo as you like.â
And all he can do is blankly stare back, blinking at you, watching you when you shift his hair aside to kiss at any surface area that you had sorely missed out on.
âAhh! Youâre always so stoic! Your face is gonna be stuck like this if you keep it up, yâknow? I want our kids to be pretty!â
âMy face being stuck like this will not affect the genetics of our offspring.â
And you just canât help but laugh, honestly. Always so nonchalant no matter the situationâ Even if his wife was barely dressed, sitting on his lap and trying her best to smother him silly with love.
âCan I get kisses for doing my best to wake up my grumpy husband at least?â
âAnd how many would be enough to satisfy you, exactly?â Heâs already bringing you closer, a hand on the back of your head as his lips hover over yours, and the other resting on the small of your back as his intense gaze meets yours.
âMmâŚâ You think for a little bit, teasingly trailing your hand down his exposed chest and tapping against the muscles you like to admire so much.âEnough to last me the rest of my life?â
âAs you wish.â
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