#ikemen prince licht fanfic

[ikemenlibrary]

The Beast in the Nighttime (Ikemen Prince)

Pairing: Licht Klein x MC (Belle) Summary: The beast that has lain dormant for so long finally allows himself to feel something.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst, pining, general Licht and Nokto Lore spoilers, any warnings that can come from Licht's route can also be implied here

A note from the author: A quick thank you to @readerinsertfanfiction and @justtuesdays for beta reading this even when you're not in the fandom and letting me know when things didn't make sense LOL. This takes place the first night Licht keeps watch over Belle in his route, based on something he said in his dramatic route ending. The thought of him sitting there pining after her night after night, the conflicting thoughts that swirled around in his head and heart was too much for me to handle, and I needed to write it out.

She was innocent. 

Almost too innocent, if Licht had any say in the matter. And now he did have a say, since he was designated to be Belle’s bodyguard during her stay in the palace. Leon, Chevalier, and Sariel had all came upon the agreement that he was best suited to keep watch over her and although Licht knew he could’ve refused, could’ve kept her held back at arms length, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that wouldn’t go away until he agreed to keep her safe.

He didn’t trust his brothers with her; she was so innocent, so naive, like a lamb in a field munching on grass while a horde of carnivores circled her menacingly. A quick flash of eye contact was all it would take before one of them pounced on her, ready to ravage in the dark confines of the night.

At least Licht could contain himself.

That’s what he told himself, and yet, as she tossed and turned in her bed only a few feet away, Licht found himself wishing he could close the distance between them and bury himself into the comforting warmth of her arms. He wanted to feel the compassion she had coursing through her veins and although it was selfish, he wanted to confide in her about what had happened with Mama when he was a child. Maybe then - finally - she would understand why he hated her, why he did things to keep her far away from him. She would understand why he was a man who wasn’t meant to be adored, but a man sentenced to a life of solitude and atonement. But more importantly, Licht secretly hoped she would hold him to her, bathe him in her sunlight, and offer to help carry the burden that he’s kept alone all these years.

And that thought made him sick to his stomach.

Licht Klein was a man of his word, and he promised he’d never let anyone get close enough to him to be hurt again. So nothing else would happen like all those years ago, on that fateful night when his family was torn apart by his own bloodstained hands. So why was it that every time he pushed her away, the pained look on her face only made him feel worse? Why was it that every time she sent a bright smile in his direction that his heart and stomach twisted, making Licht want to return to his dark room and cry himself to sleep, like he’d spent countless nights before when he was younger. He hadn’t cried in years.

No matter what he did in regards to Belle was safe; being near her was painful, and so was being away from her. 

Licht hadn’t been so reliant on someone’s company since he and Nokto were little, carefree and happy before Mama- No, no don’t think about it. Don’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry after what you did. And so he blinked away the tears that had sought solace in his eyes, and instead opted to let his gaze fall upon her. The rise and fall of her chest was almost comforting as he matched his breathing to hers, until his mind started wandering once again, to a conversation he had partaken in with Rio and Belle just a few hours before.

Once it had been decided that Licht was to guard Belle every night, he had told himself that he’d stay outside, only acknowledging her with a nod and quick eye contact, and then continue on with his duties the next day with nothing else left to say. But she was so insistent that he couldn’t stay outside, using the excuse that she wouldn’t sleep well knowing Licht was standing in the cold hallway all night. Personally, Licht didn’t mind. It wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever done to himself - in fact, he does far, far worse in the dark confines of his bedroom whenever that aching pull in his stomach starts to throb - but, he disliked the thought of her being uncomfortable, and so he had agreed to join her in her room every night.  

Rio had made a comment about how unsavory it was that she was inviting a man into her room every night, and Licht couldn’t forget the way her cheeks flushed and she avoided eye contact, saying it was fine because it was only Licht. She trusted him to not do anything unmentionable, and if she trusted him - if it wasn’t him who was watching over her - then who else would she invite into her room without any thought? He was doing it for her protection, and that was the only reason. Licht was just doing his duty; he was protecting someone he cared about, just as he had done when he shoved Nokto behind them and faced Mama with his blade. It didn’t make him feel any better though, not when these emotions were making him feel as fragile as his caged away heart.

She turned over, restless. Although she would never admit it, Licht knew she didn’t sleep well, her subconscious fretting over the fact he was sitting only a few feet away. That stubborn woman who fought so hard to get him to agree to come into her room, if only so he was comfortable while being on guard, would rather put his comfort over her own, and that realization brought a dull ache to Licht’s chest. This is why he wouldn’t - no, couldn’t - let her get any closer. It only hurt her as much, if not more, than it hurt himself. All he ever did was bring pain to the people he cared about the most.

Just like earlier, he quietly, swiftly, crossed the room. Perching himself on the side of her bed further away from the window - so the moonlight wouldn’t shine on his face and break him out of the trance he was currently in. Just like earlier, he slowly, clumsily, hesitantly moved the hair away from her sweaty forehead, caressing her smooth skin wrinkled with worry and he hastily pushed away the thought creeping in to lean down and kiss away the frown lines where her eyebrows had pinched together. Licht’s voice was soft as he started humming, the song Mama had used to sing to comfort him when he was crying over the pain Nokto took. Nokto took the pain for him, and in turn, Licht cried the tears that Nokto refused to. He used to be quick to laugh, and even quicker to cry, but after Mama died, he realized he didn’t deserve those emotions, and quickly shoved everything he had once felt under lock and key, buried deep inside his chest where the black hole continued to grow each passing day.

Her restless movements stilled as his hand traced from her forehead down to her cheek, and he wished he had taken off his gloves. Licht longed to feel her smooth skin on his worn hands, the hands that didn’t deserve to touch her the way he currently was. The hands that he vowed to never give to anyone else again, lest he brings pain once more. Yet here he was, quickly removing his gloves, his gentle fingers once again ghosting over her cheek. Human contact, after so long. He welcomed it as his heart burned with pain, each of his movements drawing more fire in his chest. He continued humming as he traced the slope of her upturned nose, the same nose that he’d seen her frown at in a mirror as they walked past it in a hallway together. He traced under her eyes, right beneath where her eyelashes lay casting a shadow from the moonglow. He traced her plush lips, a little chapped and raw from being worried in between her teeth over and over again. That simple touch, caused Licht to lose his ability to breathe. This felt too sacred, almost holy, and it wasn’t allowed of a lowly sinner such as himself. 

Licht was no better than Nokto. Here he was, a lonely beast basking in the solace of sleeping prey under the guise of comfort. And yet, Licht couldn’t tear himself away from her, his fingers sliding gently through her long hair, only pausing once like a deer in lamp light, as she nuzzled into his touch, sighing so sweetly in her sleep. And what a sound that was, so blissful, more like music to Licht’s ears than what he’s ever heard before. Now, a stab in his heart, from a sharp blade, at that thought. It was quick, and painless, but what hurt was the pain that he felt after he took his hand away from her, the metaphorical sword extracting as quickly as it pierced, leaving his blood to douse the burning embers engulfing his chest, starting to travel down into his stomach, flinching as the fleeting thought of how Mama must have felt when–.

“Licht?” Her eyes fluttered open, and he stayed still, unashamedly sitting at the side of her bed.

“I thought I heard something, but then I realized you were having a bad dream. I was just checking to make sure you’re okay.” He slid on his gloves, and he was grateful that the moon wasn’t bright enough to highlight the evenly lined scars that traveled up and down his arms. It didn’t stop her from looking on curiously. “If that’s all, go back to sleep.” He added softly, curtly. He removed himself from her bed, standing straight as one of his own soldiers were trained to do. 

“You look…” She trailed off, cocking her head to the side as she studied him. “Are you okay?”

No. “Yes. I was just thinking about how much I hate you. I’m tired and I can’t sleep because I have to guard you.” The flames stilled as she recoiled. The brazen burning started to diminish as she pulled her blankets back up to her chin. Closing herself off to him. “Well, I adore you. Thank you for staying here and protecting me.”

She was still trying. Another burning match was thrown into the flame. “Don’t say stuff like that. It just makes me hate you more.”

“That’s okay. Hate me as much as you want.” She replied, her eyes never leaving him as he made his way back to the small couch tucked against the wall. “It won’t change how I feel.” Why won't you understand that I am doing this for your sake? “Well stop it, and go to sleep.” Licht said, and then as his eyes met her own, his lips quivered into a soft smile, the muscles being stretched after so long of being forced to stay downturned. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Licht. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She replied, rolling over and pulling the blanket over her head. She wouldn’t see him once morning came, his nights were now what he had stored away for her. If this wasn’t a punishment sent directly from God, Licht didn’t know what else it could be.

Once again, even though he wasn’t alone, Licht was lonely, just like he thought he wanted, just the way Mama intended.

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

How the Rhodolite princes would react to their firstborn/newborn

Rating: PG-13 (?) Ikepri itself contains a lot of mature themes however, as such, mdni 🔞

Warnings: Brief mentions of (past) character death, grief, pregnancy/childbirth themes (no actual birth depicted), gn but implied afab, & the usual tragic Ikepri cannon.

A/N: Tried to write how they'd hold their kid and what they were feeling when meeting them. Spoiler warnings for the Rhodolite princes routes, tried not to bring up anything major though (Luke's is probably the most spoilery?). Tried to keep the princes' spouses GN, though implied afab bc newborns. (One very brief mention of Belle, but mc/reader is not Emma.) Might eventually make pt2 with the others..? Please read the warnings and proceed only if comfortable! :)

(Apologies for anything that seems ooc, I haven't written much in awhile and this is my first piece for Ikepri! I'm more used to fics rather than hcs, but I tried my best! o7)

JIN 🦅

There's so much Jin can't help but worry about. His past, his future, his country... and now he's got not one but two loved ones he would do anything for. The little bundle of joy in his arms reminds him of the times when his younger brothers were born, and how cute they used to be (well, some of them, anyway). The bleary, garnet eyes trying to look into his own have him wondering.. is this how he looked to his dear mother? There's so much he cherishes, and so much he fears, but he won't let the history of Belle repeat itself. He'd fight the entire palace if he had to, but for right now, he'll settle for tackling pesky burps and dirty diapers. Jin coos at his baby, baritone voice suddenly startling the poor thing, and he can't help but pout. The baby in his arms continues to fuss, feeling hungry.

Jin pulls something out of his breast pocket, looking over at his spouse. "So.. how much longer until they can have lollipops?"

CHEVALIER 🐅

Chevalier would likely be a bit awed upon holding his firstborn, much like the quiet way he takes in Emma's precence. Chevalier is known to be awkward with his affections, as he's far from practiced, but it's been shown on several occasions how he tries to gently pet an animal that dares to come close, or how he clumsily takes care of his love when they're feeling under the weather. He may look fine on the outside, but he's actually quite hesitant, trying to sort things out logistically at first, before sort of just settling for standing there and holding his newborn with both arms. He stares down at their gentle features, taking in every detail, making sure they're comfortable and warm in their sleep.

Looking over at his beloved in all their tired glory, in his very own Chevalier-approved affection he says, "You did well, Simpleton." While he only speaks four words aloud, his faint smile speaks the thousands he didn't quite know how to express.

CLAVIS 🐆

"Dearie me," Clavis says, holding his newborn, full of wide-eyed excitement. "They look so much like you, I can see the bunny ears already."

Being someone who values life so dearly, bringing a new one into this world, with the love of his life no less, is enough to send Clavis' heart soaring into the stratosphere. He just can't help but want to drown them in affection, but they're so small and fragile, and Clavis knows better than to risk scaring them now. He's so, so gentle with his child, unconditional love flowing off him in waves as they bond quietly (please don't get used to this, it will not last), and looks upon their splotchy tufts of lilac hair. The Lelouch genes live on through yet another generation, he smiles to himself. Clavis slowly comes over to stand by his love, placing a gentle kiss on their head.

"You're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband like me. But I'm even luckier to have you both in my life."

LEON 🦁

The happiest day in Leon's life. Second only to your wedding. Scratch that, the wedding is second.. he thinks. He's a bit frazzled from work, labor stress, and all the chaos, cut the guy some slack. No one is immune to this sweet lion's charisma, not even a newborn. They can't help but stare at his flowy hair and bright eyes, like a cartoon character come to life right before their eyes. Leon gently caresses their neck, very lightly pressing a kiss into their soft kiss to their temple. What kind of person will they grow up to be? Will they eat as much as he does? Will they fall asleep when they read too? There's a lot that runs through his mind, but ultimately, he is hopes for them to be healthy, and live happily. This child is going to be absolutely spoiled (within reason), and always have someone in their corner, rooting for them and ready to help learn from their wrongs. For now, he can worry about righting their posture instead. He tries to hold them like he read (how his partner read) in the parenting books, supporting their necks and all. It was really hard to stay awake during those, but the excitement of fatherhood helped him push through, and he's going to put it all into practice now.

"When do we start working on the second one?" (If not for the literal newborn currently in his hands, he'd be busy dodging several pillows.)

YVES 🐈

There's a lot of suppressed guilt for his mother's death in mind, and so many worries for his darling's health before, during, and after. He's a bit scared to hold his newborn, for fear of his clumsiness and "bad luck". With some assurance, he finally takes hold of them, and he could not physically be more careful with his firstborn. Clear eyes like the sky blink sleepily up at him, and Yves is fighting back tears solely for fear of them landing on the baby and somehow hurting them. The smile on his face could split his cheeks if it got any wider. The baby falls asleep in its father's arms, and he even tries breathing softer so he won't wake them. He's just trying his best, please reassure this sweet cat, he means well. (And he absolutely lost the battle against those blasted tears anyway.)

"Thank you for loving me, and for bringing our child into the world with us. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

LICHT 🐺

(Twins having twins cliché may seem redundant, I made 'em different for each brother, pinky promise.)

Licht was blessed with not one but two bundles of joy. Beautiful twin boys, who had what looked to be his vibrant silver hair and his beloved's eyes. He couldn't help the memories that surged, of happier times, and the worst of times. He knew all too well just how ruthless the court could be, but he had a chance to make things different this time. Licht seriously considered building that house he'd once mentioned, and moving you all somewhere much more peaceful. One twin in his arms, one with their other parent, he feels all thought subside when the one he's holding tries to grab at his sleeve. Licht's now-famous smile blooms across his lips much the way the sun's rays appear over daybreak; subtle, then all at once. He takes a gloveless hand, letting their tiny hand hold onto his finger as best they can, eyes gleaming from the sight before him. Licht looks over in wonder at his spouse, only to find them already watching with a tired, quiet smile.

"Things won't be easy but.. I know we can handle anything. I adore you. And I adore them."

NOKTO 🦊

(Twins for both may seem redundant, but I changed things up drastically ok, we got this.)

Nokto wasn't entirely surprised to have twins, but he had also hoped luck would be in their corner in avoiding similar fates. Two little girls, jewel-like eyes like his, and his beloved's hair color (or so it appears, though it's hard to tell for sure with so little peach fuzz). Nokto sits at the edge of the bed, holding one newborn in his arm, and reaching his other hand out for the one in his love's arms. Aside from the memories of his own upbringing, he's now having Typical Girl Dad thoughts about how to keep them safe and teach them how to stay away from cooties (boys), among other things. With a soft sigh, he gently burps his newborn after she's done feeding, rocking her slowly as she tries to chew on her father's lucious locks. Laughter bubbles past his lips at her cute antics, and Nokto feels the stress fade away, even if just a little. His heart is still getting used to receiving love and believing in it, but it's grown enough by now to love his 3 new favorite people in the world.

"If they like my hair this much now, just wait till they start to grow their own."

LUKE 🐻

Luke could not be more the picture of a teddy bear than with his newborn all swaddled up and snuggled in with their giant of a dad. He can't help but wonder if his sister is watching over them, laying next to his spouse on the bed, their newborn but a tiny dot among the two full-grown humans taking up most of the space. He promises to be there for his child the way he never really had anyone, and hopes to live more in the present now, the stakes feeling higher than ever before. A whole new life, created on purpose, gently resting in one arm and atop his broad chest, nestled comfortably and trying to suck on their thumb. Luke holds his spouse's hand with his free one, squeezing it gently, looking into their eyes with the intensity of his own emeralds.

"Look at 'em.. they're so small. Just like you," he jokes before letting out a big yawn, "But sleepy, just like me."

All rights for the characters and original intellectual property belong to Cybird. My writing belongs to myself, Maladaptivedaydreamsx, and shall not be reproduced elsewhere without permission. Ok to translate as a reblog to this post. Ok to reblog, no permission required (for those who like to be safe and ask first, all's good little homies) 💜

If you enjoyed these, I might try to make a pt2 with the other characters soon? Likes and reblogs appreciated, thank you kindly for reading! If you have any hc's of your own, please feel free to respond with them, I'd love to hear what you all think! 😊❤️ (If you'd like to be put on a tag list for any future works, please reply, though it will be a general list for writings as I'm getting back into things slowly atm,, 🙏🏻)

Also, to the lovely person who sent this in likely about 2 years ago (after I'd stopped writing on here bc life happens) ... if you're still somewhere in the fandom and end up seeing this post, thank you for your patience, and for sending something in. I'm finally trying to combat the writer's block again! 🙌🏻

[violettduchess]

A/N: A continuation of this headcanon, here is the same scenario with Chevalier and Licht, a small child entering their bedroom in the middle of the night

WC: 1.3

The child's white bedroom door, painted with a silvery moon and twinkling stars, opens slowly, a whisper in the still of the night. A small head pokes out, knuckling sleepily at eyes still heavy with the remnants of dreaming. A look left, then right.

The hall is empty.

Tiny bare feet tiptoe across plush carpeting.

One hand clutches a stuffed animal, the other reaches for the curved handle of your bedroom door and which, on a quiet exhale, opens.

Chevalier

The door slowly opens and a pale head of blond hair, silvery in the moonlight that spills through the bedroom window, peeks around the corner. Chevalier is still awake, reading by the warm glow of the oil lamp on his nightstand. You are sound asleep on your side of the bed, your feet stretched out and resting against his legs. It’s a small thing really, but he cannot deny the way it feels to know that even in sleep, you seek him out.

He lowers his book, making eye-contact with the little girl who is still peering around the door. “Yes?” It’s invitation enough. She enters, her stuffed white tiger tucked under one arm, both hands clutching a book to her chest. She approaches his side of the large bed, shoulders squared as she looks at her father, quiet determination in her expression. Chevalier glances at the silver clock, ticking quietly away on his nightstand, next to the lamp. “You should be sleeping.”

She nods, drawing a breath. “I know, Papa. But I have a dilemma.”

He forces himself not to smile at her very serious expression but the warmth is there, winding its way around his heart as he regards her. “Do you?” 

Carefully, she lays the book she’s been holding down onto his lap. He recognizes it as the book of fairy tales he has been reading to her for the past few nights, the one you had gotten for her birthday a fortnight ago. “I would like you to finish the story we began this evening. The one about the fae and the knight.”

Chevalier tilts his head, regarding her. “I believe we had this discussion an hour ago when it was your bedtime and I told you we would finish it tomorrow night.” 

She clears her throat, looking at him with eyes as blue as the endless sea, eyes that perfectly mirror his own. “I know and that is my dilemma. However…I’ve thought about it. And I have a good reason why we should continue now.”

His eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “Go on.”

She takes a moment, gathering her thoughts. “You see, the story was so interesting that I have not been able to sleep. In fact, I have been kept quite awake wondering what is going to happen. As you said Papa, this has already cost me an hour of rest. But…” She takes a deep breath, reading herself for the heart of her plea. “If you were to read me the last three pages, it would take you approximately fifteen minutes. And then I would know how the tale ends. And I could go to bed. If not, I worry I may continue to toss and turn and my sleep will be further interrupted.” 

He does not answer a moment. His words momentarily robbed by the strange and heady mixture of pride and love for his daughter that is squeezing his heart, an emotion she so often evokes and that never fails to leave him amazed. She waits, the only sign that she is eager to hear his response is the impatient wiggling of her toes. Finally, the corner of his lips lift in a soft smile.

“You make a very compelling argument.” He sets aside his book and then gets out of bed, taking her fairy tale book in one hand and holding out his other to her. “We’ll finish the story in your room, in our reading chair so that we don’t wake your mother.”

She smiles, brighter than the full moon, and suddenly he sees you, his beloved wife. There you are, the echo of your warmth and joy painted across her young face. The warmth and joy that reached through the walls around his heart and gathered him close, taught him not only was he worthy of love but he could love back just as fiercely. 

And here, your daughter, the living embodiment of that very love, grips his large hand happily as she leads the way back to her room. Impulsively she turns her head and kisses the top of his hand. “Thank you, Papa.” Chevalier answers her affection with a tender smile and a squeeze of her hand in return. “You are very, very welcome.”

Licht

He stirs the moment the bedroom door opens, having not quite sunk into the well of dreaming yet. Pushing himself up, his first instinct is to reach for the nightstand drawer where his dagger is waiting to bite into any intruder. But his hand stills, midair, when he sees who is peeking her pale head around the door. “Papa?” 

He murmurs her name and motions for his daughter to come in as you sleepily rub at your eyes, rolling over to see what’s going on. She rushes to the bed, her stuffed wolf held by its bushy tail. It’s only when she’s close that he notices the watery eyes, the rapid way her small chest rises and falls, the paleness of her cheeks.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” She climbs onto the bed and launches herself into her father’s arms, burying her face in the soft white linen of his sleepshirt. “I had a bad dream,” is her muffled reply. 

Licht’s breath hitches in his throat. He is far too familiar with the phantoms that still sometimes haunt his nights, the dark tendrils of fear and terror and pain that wrap themselves around his mind at its most vulnerable. Noticing the way he’s frozen, you reach over, placing a reassuring hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently even as you reach with the other hand to touch your daughter’s bare foot, letting her know you are there for her.

Licht breathes in, your touch bringing him back from the shadows. He adjusts his arms around her, then strokes her moonlight-hair with a steady hand. Your touch on his back soothes him, sending calm waves of warmth through him, the same steady flow of love and reassurance he is giving to your child.

“Dreams can feel very real,” he murmurs, speaking slowly and tenderly, his lips resting on the top of her head. “And it’s ok to be scared.” You nod, resting your chin on Licht’s shoulder and brush the back of your fingers against her round little cheek. “We’re here for you, my love. Always.”

She leans back, sniffling and Licht tenderly brushes her hair away from her flushed face. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He nods immediately, a smile gracing his lips as she climbs her way over the both of you to wiggle herself under the covers. Her wolf tucked close to her chest, she throws herself against her father, eliciting a soft laugh before snuggling up against his side, her head on his chest. 

Licht glances at you over her head, his eyes the soft red of sunset as he extends his arm in invitation. You slide closer, curling up against your daughter, your head pillowed by his arm. 

No nightmares trouble any of you for the rest of the peaceful night.

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@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet

@silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton

@ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp

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@sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny

@chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

[judenostopwaitkeepgoing]

IkéPrince's Favorite Kinks 😈

18+ | MDNI! | IkéPrinces x Fem!Reader

CW: Some kinks are not for everyone! Mentions of (consensual!) power imbalances, bodily harm/violence, Dom/Sub dynamics, humiliation/taking advantage, mentions of cutting/blood, some slight CNC (somnophilia), (consensual) controlling behavior, mentions of fingering, p-in-v sex, and more!

AN: These are just my opinions on which kinks the princes/other Rhodolite court members would be into! Some of them are a little more on the extreme side of things! Haha! This post is for all you fellow freaks out there! Enjoy!!

Jin Grandet – Sensation Play / Sensory Deprivation (blindfolding)

Jin is a slut, it’s true, but he doesn’t strike me as the kinkiest guy in Rhodolite. However! He likes to spice things up now and again! I feel like he would get a kick out of being lightly tickled with a feather as foreplay—even better if it was happening while he was blindfolded. Anything to draw out the anticipation and tension for this guy who usually doesn’t have to work that hard at getting someone into bed with him lol. Also, imagine lightly tracing a finger or a butter knife or a feather or literally anything over those shoulder and chest muscles....? And he might even let out a little low-toned nervous chuckle...?? Yeesh. 😮‍💨

Chevalier Michel – Overstimulation/Edging

Chev loves to have the power! He loves to make you squirm! He thinks it’s hot but also it genuinely amuses him! Lol. What a monster this guy would be. He’s written in his route/canonically as having awkward, fumbling movements when it comes to romance/intimacy, but I’m sorry, I do not buy it! Sorry to you, Ikéwriters! You’re wrong! This dude is so confident it is almost scary! He would be so commanding in bed!! For real!! Like, he is perfect at everything and has read so many romance novels...??? Like he would be lethal??? Imagine him fingering you so deftly that you are about to come, and then he extracts himself from you so suddenly that your heart almost falls out of your chest, but you look up and he’s just smirking at you??? King Chev needs to unwind too okay!!

Clasvis LeLouch – Bondage

Another member of the Rhodolitian Sluts Committee! However, Clavis is a “gentleman.” He “respects” you or whatever. Haha, I actually don’t think he would be that kinky, but I do think that he knows his way around some rope lmao. He’s always setting traps! He’s bound to set a trap for you in your bedroom one of these days. And that trap would be designed in a way that some rope would happen to pull you up by your wrists, leaving you helpless and writhing like a little worm on a hook for him. What is he supposed to do? Not toy with your body and tease you until you come?? He’s so considerate though! Always just thinking about your pleasure... What’s the problem?? 😇

Leon Dompteur – Breeding Kink

Okay, don’t come for me, but I genuinely think that Leon is the least kinky of all of the princes. He’s so noble and so egalitarian that I can’t really picture him getting into sexy stuff that requires power exchanges or pain or too much tension even. There’s a world of kink beyond those things, of course, but he just reads like a sweet vanilla boyfriend to me! But! I can see him getting particularly excited by the idea of putting his babies inside you haha. He would come inside you one time and then not be able to stop thinking about the possibility of you getting pregnant—imagining your belly swelling up, your glow as you carry his child... he’d get all embarrassed by how much the idea turns him on! He’d sheepishly bring it up at first, but before long he’d be whispering in his husky daddy voice about how he’s going to fill you up with his seed. Teehee!

Yves Kloss – Food Play

I mean, chef Yves feeding you his delicious treats? Or eating off of your naked body? Treating you like his personal little buffet? Yves would be so sensual with this. He would get off on watching you eat, loving the facial expressions that you make while you savor something that he made just for you. He’d also be into eating off of you—whipped cream play comes to mind! He’d hand-make some deliciously sweet and fluffy cream, first putting it somewhere cute and innocent like on your nose and licking it off, and you guys would tease each other until he gets all flustered and frustrated and decides to put it on your nipples and your bare stomach and your fingers and... everywhere! He'll show you who can make who flustered!! hehe cutie Yves. 🤭

Nokto Klein – Exhibitionism

Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got another huge slut over here! Ugh, I love Nokto haha. He’s such a problem lmao. He wants the whole world to know that you are his and his alone. He also wants the whole world to know how hot and sexy you are! He’d take any opportunity to fuck you in semi-public. Or at least make out with you. He knows how to get you so distracted with his tongue, his hands, his murmurs in your ear... He’d be fingering you in the palace gardens or in a back corner of a ballroom before you even knew what hit you. He’d be all like “Look at her body, look how beautiful she is, haha but don’t ever touch or I will kill you! While smiling! Teehee!”

Licht Klein – Pain/Blood Play

(This kink is not for everyone! Proceed with caution! Also PLEASE be careful if you try this IRL!) Licht gives me masochist vibes. I can see him lying in bed with you, both of your naked bodies softly touching, you lightly running your fingers over his muscular arms, until he cautiously broaches the idea of you using a knife/small razor blade to make small cuts on him or a needle to pierce his ears or skin... You would hesitate at first, but after he reassures you and you see just how flushed and excited he gets from being at your mercy like that, you’d realize that it’s something he gets off on and enjoys. You guys would talk about it a lot to make sure that you’re going about it in a safe way! Part of the appeal for him is you treating his wounds afterward! He would only trust you with this activity.

Luke Randolph – Somnophilia

(All of this is consensual!) Luke loves to nap, and I feel like napping together would be a staple in your relationship. He loves nothing more than slowly fluttering his eyes open to see you lying next to him, still asleep. You look so beautiful and delectable, and since you guys have agreed that it’s okay—you even have a system in place, where you put on a certain bracelet or ribbon that signals your consent before you go to sleep (if you’re not wearing it, he won’t do anything)—he’d slowly slide his hand between your legs, trailing soft, wet kisses along your neck and collarbone while you’re still sleeping, gradually beginning to stroke your clit... the sensation of you getting wet while you only start to stir awake makes him hard as a rock, and before long you’d both be up and at ‘em lol.

Sariel Noir – BDSM / Impact Play

The Devil of the King’s Court!!! Oooohooohoohoo. Sariel, Sariel, Sariel... Hahaha, I can’t with this man. He definitely has a secret torture dungeon somewhere in the castle, filled with all kinds of beautifully designed whips and paddles and chains. You’d be his little plaything, no question haha. Sariel is for the masochist girlies lol. He would find excuses to “punish” you all the time, and honestly you would do the same—he would be so excited at the sight of your pretty skin getting redder and redder as he spanks you or whips you. He’d reward you for good behavior by making you come over and over again and being very sweet with his aftercare. Ugh, kinky king!

Rio Ortiz – Getting Fem Dommed / Puppy play

Biggest! Sub! In! Rhodolite! Haha. Rio is canonically referred to as the MC’s “pet” or “mutt” or “dog” across multiple main story lines lmao. And he would be such a good boy! Imagine his eager little face as you boss him around. He wants nothing more than to please you. You could be a mean mistress or a kind mistress, it doesn’t even matter! He’s at your beck and call no matter what. He’s your personal little bitch now, so use him! He likes it! Buy him a collar and leash and everything. He’ll do literally anything for his beloved mistress. Ugh, it would be equally fun to yell at him or reward him for his good behavior. Rio is the ultimate puppy material!

Gilbert von Obsidian – Total Power Exchange

(This kink is not for everyone! Don’t forget that Gilbert is pretty much a dictator! Proceed with caution! This is a consensual activity! Don’t put up with this shit IRL unless it’s thoroughly agreed upon!) Gilbert would love to control every single aspect of your life haha. He likes to see the anxious look on your face when you need something but know that you have to ask for his permission. Like, you even have to ask for his permission to go to the bathroom or eat food. He likes having all of your needs at his mercy. It makes him so horny for you. Of course, you have to ask for his permission on what to wear, who you can talk to even... Your entire life belongs to him, just like he likes it. Occasionally, you would do something without his permission and he would have to punish you!

Keith Howell – Wax Play

My thinking here is that wax play would appeal to both “Keiths.” Dark Keith would like it for the danger/tension and Kind Keith would like it for the softness/sensualness of it after the wax dries. They would go about it in different ways. Dark Keith would hold you down and pour hot wax over your most sensitive areas, making you yelp. Kind Keith would slowly drip wax along the less intense erogenous zones, like your collarbones or feet, then sweetly peel it off of your naked body. The temperature play aspect of it would be really exciting for him, and he’d love to praise your beautiful soft skin after it’s been dipped in wax.

Silvio Ricci – Getting FinDommed

This kind of breaks from MC’s canonical attitude toward Silvio and his wealth, but this is what is in my heart lol. Silvio likes a brat! He’s a tyrant and has a difficult personality, but he actually likes it when someone doesn’t back down from him. He’s so used to getting whatever he wants, the idea of being at the mercy of his little bratty baby's whims and needs would be so thrilling to him. Literally he’s your wallet now. He’s the richest man in Benitoite! Take advantage of him! He doesn’t get a choice. He's there to buy you new clothes, new shoes, as many treats as you want, a new house even! He’s got the money, babe! And that money is YOURS now. Not his. Muahahaha. 😈

[xxsycamore]

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝟔𝟗

↬ 📜 The Belle Covenant, Clause 69: "A just king ought to give his country as much as he takes. Belle is to oversee his equal sharing, for he must learn to treat his country the way he treats a lover." Emma initiates 69 with each prince. You know, for political reasons.

Leon x Emma; Chevalier x Emma; Yves x Emma; Nokto x Emma; Licht x Emma; Jin x Emma; Clavis x Emma; Luke x Emma • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: 69 (Sex Position); Oral Sex; Rough Oral Sex; Cunnilingus; Bathroom Sex; Gentle Sex; Rough Sex; Deepthroating; Blow Jobs; Face-Sitting; Multiple Orgasms; Vaginal Fingering; Vaginal Sex • wordcount: 2,241 • masterlist

a/n: Welcome to my personal kinktober challenge, Visions of Temptation 2022 - that's right, last year's one. You can find the new one, Visions of Temptation 2023, here. DAY 1: ORAL SEX | SIXTY-NINE

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

The Belle Covenant, Clause 69:

"A just king ought to give his country as much as he takes. Belle is to oversee his equal sharing, for he must learn to treat his country the way he treats a lover."

"Now, Prince Leon, let's see if you're more of a taker or a giver…"

Propped up on his elbows on the bed, Leon had just told Emma he's hers to play with. He's so casual as ever, always there for her, ready to give a shoulder where she needs it. From how well they clicked it was bound to happen sooner or later, ending up in the same bed. Seeing Emma turn around and straddle his torso, Leon is pretty sure she's taking him for a ride.

Until she gets all comfortable with his cock in her mouth, retaining this position.

Now, Leon is not the one to idly sit and be pleased by someone without returning the gesture. It just doesn't sit right with him, when all it takes is a swift maneuver and Emma's leaking pussy would be right in front of his face and ready to be ravished.

The vigor with which Leon swirls his skilled tongue inside her depths can only be rivaled by the way hers wraps around the girth of his cock, tracing the delicious vein that protrudes on its side. She switches for teasing the slit of his tip, and Leon groans; the pleasure ricocheting right back to her core in the form of a sultry vibration.

"Suck it harder. Damn it, Emma, just like that… I'm going to cum, Emma. Cum with me."

They're locked in this loop of giving and taking all the way until their mutual peak hits. Hard.

Leon surely is a master of this trade, in addition to guiding her and praising her. She hums in bliss and takes a mental note of his skills, for future reference.

Chevalier is a tough nut to crack. First, he needs a good reason to cooperate regarding any of the clauses in the list. Why would he care? Second, he needs a good reason to comply specifically with the absurdish idea that Emma poses about 'testing his justness'. So she gets a little creative and a little mischievous, and gives him the necessary push.

In a little game of (big) cat and mouse, Emma jumps from the sofa to the bed before Chevalier can put his claws on her. Backed against the headboard of the bed, she has nowhere to escape, but the book that started it all remains in a secure hold against her chest.

"I'll give you your precious book back if you give me something in return. Or does the mighty future king of Rhodolite not see it fit to give in order to take?"

"The 'mighty future king of Rhodolite' doesn't fancy anyone touching his property with their dirty little hands," He looms in closer, caging Emma's body with his own, knowingly intimidating her, "And he has nothing to negotiate with thieves."

The book is snatched from her hands without much fight, and Emma sinks further down the headboard in defeat. The wise thing to do would be to retreat and rethink her strategy - and definitely not to try and seduce an angry Chevalier by letting out an accidental whine while she's still trapped sprawled beneath him in his lair.

Chevalier remains there, only raising an eyebrow - he shouldn't be too surprised by her open provocations at this point, but it's like he senses something genuine in her supposed act.

"You're hopeless, simpleton."

A sequence of Emma's half-spoken questions and puzzled sounds is merely background noise to the rapidly changing pace of events, as the big cat in front of her lies down and turns on his back. It's not exactly the equivalent of it trustingly showing its belly for rubs.

Emma's slightly trembling legs are gotten a secure hold of, as Chevalier drags her closer and on top of him - almost trying to be gentle but failing - until she's practically straddling his face.

Her pulse quickens rapidly as if she's been granted a throne she is unworthy of.

Just for tonight, she shuts her eyes and accepts the empowering pleasure it entails.

Sucking on her aroused nub until she sees stars, he almost makes her forget the idea behind this ordeal, until she has to remind herself about working for his pleasure too. Chevalier almost doesn't let her - at first, she thinks it's an additional dragging on of things for him, a bother. Once he lets her play with his intimidatingly big cock, though, it proves to be something different. The prideful second prince catches up with her heightened arousal shockingly quickly. His ministrations become sloppier. Such an exchange of pleasure, Emma concludes, is unfamiliar to him. He masks it very well - because by the time she reaches her own orgasm, it feels euphoric. He gave her a lot, and he took a lot, too.

Yves is almost too pretty right now. Emma laments not having him eat her out in a pose where she can watch his pretty face, his perfect features pressed into her cunt, his cute little nose squished against her clit.

His cupid's bow kissing her glistering, swollen pussy lips.

Yves maneuvers his frame swiftly over her body, just-bathed porcelain skin smelling of expensive oils and silky-to-the-touch caresses ghosting over Emma's equally cared-for body, as they shared intimacies in the bath beforehand. 

Their exchange of pleasure is harmonic; voices joining together in a melody as they moan, aromas entangling in the air and delicate sensations as they roll in the clean, luxurious bedsheets. Yves softly guides Emma's body sideways before laying down the opposite way, muscles relaxing all over, safe for the ones of their sexes which are maddeningly pulsing in a chase towards a mutual peak.

Yves' love would trick you with tasting rigid demand coated with egoism; then reminiscent of a dessert with soft-crème heart, upon a bolder bite you'll discover what having your senses spoiled really feels like.

From someone with a mouth as big as Nokto's, Emma expects nothing but a big performance to come. She's in for a little more than she bargained for, she finds out as soon as her world turns upside down.

Looking at Emma now, Nokto connects the dots rather quickly as to why she's suddenly feeling coquettish like that - lounging on his couch whenever he's around is one thing, but getting so comfy that she's basically dangling her legs over the backrest, her best bedroom eyes following Nokto upside-down… He wonders if his antics are rubbing off her, or if she's giving him a taste of his own medicine. Hands folded casually on her belly, she finally poses the question that's been hanging heavily in the air, while Nokto dresses himself for another night out. It's now or never.

Emma is suddenly the fox's appetizer when he leans down and buries his face between her legs, the hem of her dress conveniently ridden up on her waist as if to clear his way. 

She's never before given a blowjob upside-down but she likes a challenge. Nokto's crouch is right there in front of her face, so she makes quick work of his belt that he hasn't even fastened all the way earlier during his preparations for going out. It works out surprisingly well, a quick and explosively pleasurable deal sealed with a gush of fluid on their tongues.

Nokto works swiftly when there is gain for him, and surprisingly plays fair, too.

Like the carnivore he is deep inside, Licht loves taking his pray to his den. His room is mostly veiled in darkness and Emma's eyes are not well-adjusted to it by the time Licht begins ravishing her, but there is no fear in her heart. His tonguing on her heated core is calculated and it's nothing greater than what her body can take - and it comes naturally to her to want to give him something in return.

They're in no hurry, taking turns pleasuring each other, usually one being breathless and halting ministrations because of those of the other party. Emma feels shy being so vocal with a partner that only occasionally grunts every now and then. His giving is silent but evident and abundant, and she feels like putty in his strong hands. Licht takes long sweeps of his tongue on her sex, dragging her whole body back and forth with the impact, not caring that the bobbing of Emma's head turns sloppier. Once he releases his pent-up desire whole in her mouth, he tells her to spit if she wants - and feels his blood rushing forth hotly when she doesn't. In the much-appreciated post-sex cuddles session afterward, Emma catches a glimpse of a smile and dozes off contently.

Everything Emma learned about Jin's sex life, she learned against her will. Though it would be a lie if she said she wasn't once curious whether the rumors were true.

Her observations so far are that as many women the first prince has taken to bed, he is in the habit of behaving like he hasn't been with one in ages. Paying attention to every naked millimeter of her skin, Jin's hands never stop roaming, pleasuring, loving. He also eats her out as if he hasn't put food in his mouth for decades, she notices - a deep masculine grunt leaving his throat at the first taste of her hot juices on his tongue. He is a big boy who doesn't mind getting dirty, and that might be the best thing about him, as much as Emma refuses to admit. His technique is worked to perfection - the youthfully needy opening act serving just to trick her. It's funny how she attempted to blow him first and then turn it into a hot sixty-nine from there, when in reality he was the one to initiate that. Jin always struck her as the person who likes to sit back in his seat, one hand propping up his chin, one on her head, as he's been serviced. But he is a giver, a damn good giver.

Emma doesn't know why she had expectations of Clavis doing this straightforwardly and fairly, when he's already a well-known menace outside the bedroom. Being naked and open for his cruel teasings, for the touch of those wicked fingers that aim to irritate and to never satisfy, it drives her crazy. Clavis demands to be the one touching her and not the other way around - after all, there are so many ways to play with a bunny like Emma, why limit themselves to some boring position? Clavis has Emma climaxing twice on his fingers before he finally allows her to return some of the pleasure, guiding his flushed tip past her thoroughly kissed and swollen lips. She then understands - for all Clavis is worth, he's prone to becoming an absolute mess once pleasured. The little delicious gasp falling from his beautiful curved lips soon turns into a hearty moan, laced with desperateness and lust as he pushes Emma's head to urge her to take more of his cock inside her tight, warm throat. His little plan of turning her into a pliant, overstimulated pile of limbs is unsuccessful when he possesses a voice so erotic it sees her hunger awaking once again, head full of thoughts about riding him until sunrise. In addition, Clavis seems to enjoy the rougher manner of Emma seating her dripping cunt directly on his face, leaving him almost no room to breathe. Maybe riling her up was all in favor of receiving her harsh command of "Shut up already and pleasure me properly!"

The chances of coming with the upper hand when bargaining with Clavis are low, but the headaches are always worth it in the end.

Luke should have been the gentle giant who lets Emma catch a breather even in moments of burning lust. That's how she always imagined him to be with a lover - barely-there touches exchanged between relaxed sighs, lying down in some secluded napping spot that would once again serve its true purpose once every last drop of pleasure is squeezed out of their bodies.

Well. While it does sound good enough to Emma, she wouldn't trade her current position for anything in the world.

Adrenaline rushing all through her body, Emma's heart is about to leap out of her chest with the sheer lasciviousness of how Luke has her right now.

Someone as tall and strong as him, she should've prepared herself to be putty in his hands. To be folded in positions she couldn't paint with her imagination… or, like right now, to be picked up with her ass up and held in the air as Luke shamelessly devours her cunt.

With pleasure rendering her silly, she can't possibly hold back from attempting to suck his cock while in this position, even if its massiveness in its full erect glory intimidated her at first. For the timid, vanilla experience she expected, fucking like animals is the last thing she saw coming from Luke - and she suddenly finds himself at his mercy as he has complete control over her body.

The aftercare is more reminiscent of her initial thoughts, and coming down from her high never felt better. Once you awaken the slumbering monster inside the youngest prince of Rhodolite, you're in for more than you bargained for.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @princess-pray-a @claviscollections @aceuuuuu Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[aquagirl1978]

Hellooooo! Can I request HCs for Chevalier, Yves and Licht with a really ticklish MC please? 😊

Hello there! Thank you for this request, anon - this idea was too cute, I had to write this and I think it pulled me from my writer's block.

IKEMEN PRINCE HEADCANONS - SUITORS REACTIONS TO A TICKLISH MC (Chevalier, Yves, Licht)

It could barely be considered morning when you were still cuddling with Chevalier under a cocoon of blankets.

Your back was pressed against his chest, his heavy arm draped around your torso. His breathing rhythmic and soft in your ear.

His hand drifted along your ribcage. Until he found it. Your ticklish spot.

You knew your lover well -- he was a bully who took pleasure in tormenting you.

You had done well hiding this secret; while he had touched you in this spot before in past, it had been while you were in the throes of passion and well, your body and mind were elsewhere.

If Chevalier were to discover you had a ticklish spot, you'd be a goner. He'd torture you. Forever.

Covering your mouth, you feigned a yawn. It was still early enough, he could still be sleepy enough that he couldn't discern the soft giggle hidden in your yawn.

When he made no sound, you let out a sigh of relief and considered yourself safe.

Until he touched you again. This time, his thumb stroked your skin roughly, much like how he so often tickled your tongue.

Squirming in his arms, you clamped your mouth shut. Praying.

The bed sheets ruffled, and before you knew it, you found yourself lying on your back, a pair of ice blue eyes piercing yours.

With his eyes locked on yours, he tickled you again, his smile smug as he watched your expression.

"You're enjoying this too much," you huffed in between peals of laughter. Writhing under his ministrations, your eyes never left his, watching his expression with as much interest as he was yours.

"Indeed. And so are you." He gave you a knowing smile as he lightened his touch, giving you a much needed reprieve. "Lucky for you," he added, his grin turning wicked, "I have no where to be today."

Yves' head was resting on your chest, your heart still racing, your bodies still coming down from their highs.

He was idly tracing circles on your skin with his fingertip, the sensation soothing, helping slow your breaths.

His pinky finger grazed your arm. It was an unintentional touch, gentle on your skin. But it was enough to get a reaction.

Instinctively, you pulled your arm away.

Yves lifted his eyes to meet yours, pulling his hand away. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you whispered back, "it's just, ah....I'm a bit ticklish there."

Yves gazed at you curiously, and returned his hand to where it was. He rubbed your arm, testing to see your reaction.

"Don't move," he said as he continued to tease you. Waiting...

"There..." he whispered, pleased when you began to laugh. It was light and free, much like a child's.

When you caught him smiling at you, you turned your face, your cheeks feeling flush.

Removing his hand from your arm, he tilted your chin with his thumb, wanting to see your face.

"Don't look away. I love your laughter and your smile."

"You have a petal in your hair. Lemme get it..."

Licht lifted his hand towards your ear to brush away the stray pink petal, his thumb inadvertadly grazing your neck.

"Are you...?"

"Ticklish?" You finished his sentence in between a bubbly burst of giggles. "Yes. Ever since I was a little girl, I've been ticklish there."

"Interesting," Licht commented in his soft voice, his crimson eyes fixed upon the column of your neck.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, fully exposing your neck to him. He pressed his thumb along your sensitive skin, searching for that special spot. Waiting for your laughter to tell him when he's found it.

"There..." He continued to stroke your skin lightly, the touch just enough to get you laughing.

Your sweet laugh was infectious, enough to make Licht laugh with you.

After he removed his hand from your neck, you missed it immediately. It was an odd spot to be ticklish, one that wasn't often tickled, but you liked it when he did it.

Most likely because it was Licht who was doing the tickling.

Once you both stopped giggling, you took his hands in yours.

"Are you ticklish, Licht?"

He thought for a moment. " I dunno." He gazed into your eyes, a soft smile spread on his lips. He lifted your joined hands and placed your palms on his chest. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Tagging: @starlitmanor-network

[rjthirsty]

The Mistress

A/N: A series of one shot shorts about MC/reader being the chosen king's consort as he marries a queen for political reason. It's not all angst, guys, I promise. CW: Smut under cut. Not all are smut.

There was once a time you were Belle, and you fell in love with a beast. Your love, however, changed the beast and he became a human, a human you thought worthy of ruling over the kingdom you resided. The king loved you, too. So much so that he made it possible for the two of you to continue seeing each other.

But the Royal court is not a place for commoners, and despite his power and protection, a wife had to be taken for political gain. You understood and stood by him, staying his adored mistress while another became queen. The past would not repeat itself. The noble line would continue. And you two would stay together no matter what came your way.

A knock at your door sends your heart racing. It's him. He has finally come to see you today. He doesn't announce himself and you don't have to answer, knowing he'll enter of his own wishes, he is the king of course. You try not to seem too eager, waiting to see his face and taste his lips and hear his voice. Holding yourself back as the door opens and there is your king, your lover, the man you can't live without and who can't live without you.

Chevalier

Chevalier always enters calmly, seemingly put together every evening he visits - and he does visit every evening. But as soon as the door is closed, he's a different beast altogether. He's starving for you and his hands are on you immediately. Clothes are pulled off as lips are pushed together.

There's no time to think, no time to breathe. There is only his tongue and mouth and teeth touching every part of you that he can, tasting you, devouring you. You'd think you two had been separated for weeks, but it has only been hours.

Your cunt is used to these nightly calls, already wet from anticipation. Already throbbing to be filled by his cock. He directed you towards the bed and you gladly fell onto it, clothes removed, panting heavily, and desire filling your eyes.

His eyes burn with need. His dick is stiff and dribbling. You get the modicum of a respite before he crawls on top of you and sinks into you fully with one long stroke. A gasp turns into a groan as he fills you up.

Your fingers that had clenched the comforter moved to his back, fingertips pressing into his skin as you pulled him closer to bring your lips together once more. The kiss was sensual and slow and full of sweet sighs and silent loving words shared between parted lips with tongue and gentle nibbles.

It is bliss. But it hardly sates his desire for you and he knows he can make you feel so much more.

Chevalier pulls his hips from yours, thrusting back in with enough speed and force to make your skin clap as pelvis meets pelvis. Another gasp sucked in by you as you prepare for what is to come. A second thrust just as rough, almost a warning, then his speed picks up and there’s no more time to brace as he fucks into you.

Moans erupt from you. Your sexes smack together. His pace is relentless and rough and– it feels so good. He fucks you like a man obsessed, needing to be deep inside you. Wanting to make you moan and come and scream his name.

Licht

One hand holding your hip to keep you from bouncing too far away from him with every enthusiastic thrust. His mouth on your shoulder, your neck, your breasts, leaving blooming promises across your skin. He marks you and claims you, again and again. The only woman he’ll ever love.

As soon as Licht shuts the door, the two of you are drawn together like you were made to hold one another. While embracing each other, whispered “I missed yous” and “I love yous” are desperately shared though you have shared them hundreds of times already. It doesn’t matter that you said those words only hours earlier, or that you repeat them each night, they still need to be expressed every time you two touch.

You stand there for an immeasurable time, lost in each other, until finally one of you pulls away so Licht can make himself more comfortable. It’s not enough to be near you, to hold you, there are too many layers between the two of you. Once those layers are discarded, you both find a place where you can wrap up with each other, whether that be the couch or bed, it doesn’t matter as long as you can be together.

Every night, Licht comes to see you. And every night, he stays until morning, claiming he sleeps better with you at his side. His own room is hardly used these days, and very rarely does he pay the queen a visit in her quarters. It was arranged with politics in mind after all, you’re the one he loves.

Some nights you spend content just being near each other. And some nights his needs pass into the carnal, with lips on skin and fingers tangled in hair. He can’t imagine life without you, and when he does think about it, he buries himself in you, pours his love into you, and drowns in the unconditional love you give him.

[le-chat-sofi]

Nokto: C'mon, MC can't be good at everything! Clavis: Yeah, who knows, she might be a terrible kisser- Yves: NO, MC is good at that too. Nokto:(ᵔ.ᵔ) Licht passing by:(O.O) Clavis:(¬‿¬ ) Yves:(＃＞＜) MC: My poor boy...

[eventinelysplayground]

This is my entry for @aquagirl1978 Leon sequel release event. I used more than one prompt, though some are just touched on while others are a bigger part of the fic overall. I hope everyone enjoys it and gets a good laugh out of it, it was interesting to write interactions that don't normally happen and with side characters too. Leon's attitude is turning what should be a special ball into a frozen landscape. Just pure fluff and fun, WC approx 1420.

Growing Up

There's no question that a ball is a magical world unto its own. The dazzling jewels, bright dresses and outgoing dancers accompanied by delightful food and intoxicating music. It was enough to fuel little girls' fantasies for years until they were old enough to partake at which point this same magic world fueled their fathers nightmares.

This ball was no different really to the hundreds that had come before or those that would follow after except for the fact a Princess was making her debut tonight and a King who normally smiled like the sun now stood to the side glaring daggers.

“Seriously now Leon, you can't just keep standing here like this all night!”

Yves let out an annoyed huff and Leon just folded his arms across his chest.

“Oh yeah, watch me.”

Yves sputtered and nudged Licht in the arm.

“You're scaring them all Leon.”

“Good, they should be scared.”

Those last words were uttered in a low growl.

“Well I tried.”

Licht turned to the table behind them plucking a tart from a tray and taking a big bite of it.

“That is not trying! Leon, listen to me, I know you're just being protective but if you keep acting like this then nobody will dance with Sophie and you know how that will make her look and feel.”

For just a moment a flicker of regret passed across Leon's face but he shook it off.

“She has all of you to dance with, she'll be fine.”

“That's not, argh!”

Yves was clearly becoming frustrated and had just placed his hands on his hips when a big hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“Now now Yves, a ball is no place for a lecture.”

“But Jin, Sophie has put so much work into preparing for tonight and-”

“I know Yves but he's clearly not gonna listen to any of us so let's just go enjoy ourselves and let him stew.”

“But-”

Yves turned around ready to lay into Jin but although he was smiling it was a smile that told him he wouldn't be argued with.

“Fine, but I hope you know what you're doing!”

Yves stormed off and Jin quickly followed behind with Licht. Once they were far enough away Licht turned to Jin.

“You have a plan right?”

“Nope, not this time.”

“Then?”

“Just because I don't have a plan doesn't mean there isn't one.”

Licht looked over his shoulder and saw that Clavis was closing in on Leon and he sighed knowing full well this wasn't going to go well.

“Well this is certainly entertaining, did you know you look just like Chev right now?”

“I do not.”

“Hahaha, deny it all you like little brother but you could freeze water with your glare right now.”

Leon shifted uneasily at the comparison.

“It's just…”

“It had to happen sooner or later Leon, all children grow up.”

“Why did she have to grow up so fast?”

Clavis shrugged.

“I should have made a new decree about children not attending balls. Or one about boys and girls having to keep at least a hundred feet apart. Maybe it's not too late-”

Clavis was laughing hysterically, almost doubling over in the process but it was enough to draw Leon's attention away from his daughter.

“Do you hear yourself right now? You sound positively insane!”

“Mad I'm infringing on your territory?”

Leon smirked at Clavis, the first change to his expression all night and Clavis feigned a wounded expression.

“I may be eccentric, dashing, handsome, cun-”

“Clavis.”

Leon's tone was taught, clearly he was in no mood for Clavis' games.

“I am not insane, and neither are you. You and Emma have been fair and just rulers, beloved by everyone in the kingdom. Would you really throw it all away now because you don't want to face the fact that your baby girl has grown up?”

“That's just it she hasn't grown up, she’s still-”

Leon's words were cut off by a firm smack to the back of his head. It was Clavis who recovered first.

“Did you really just slap your King?”

“No, I slapped my son in law who's acting like an idiot.”

“Oh my this night is turning out to be quite entertaining! How deli-”

“Be quiet or you're next.”

“Dear me.”

Mr. Akatsuki glared at Clavis who couldn't help but gulp.

“I didn't know you were coming tonight Pops.”

“Of all the things you could have picked up from that mutt….”

Mr. Akatsuki sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Listen here, I know what it's like to watch your daughter grow up, to not want her to grow up but you're annoying brother-”

“Hey! I object to that.”

“Did you forget what I just told you?”

Leon was still rubbing the back of his head from the smack and Clavis put his hands up in surrender.

“Good. Now as much as you don't want Sophie to grow up she is and there's nothing you can do about that.”

“I know that, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.”

“Well of course you won't like it, no father likes it! I didn't like it, I'm actually still mad at you for taking Emma away from me.”

Mr. Akatsuki was the one frowning now and he crossed his arms across his chest mimicking Leon's stance from earlier.

“That's different, Emma was an adult whe-”

“Says you. To me…she was still the same little girl she had been. We have to let them grow up though and hope we taught them well, so that when the time comes they make a good choice. Not like some women.”

Mr. Akatsuki stuck his chin out gesturing to where Nokto was currently engaged in seducing a noblewoman. Leon sighed, running a hand through his hair and that's when he noticed it. Sophie was being escorted to the edge of the dance floor by a boy with familiar red hair. He wanted nothing more than to walk over there and pull them apart but his still faintly throbbing head was enough to make him restrain himself.

“I had always wished we had another girl but now…one is definitely plenty.”

Mr. Akatsuki nodded his head in agreement to Leon's words. The three men watched in silence as Sophie twirled her way around the dance floor, a smile as dazzling as the sun lighting up her face. As soon as the song ended and she had been escorted off the floor another young man came up and offered Sophie his hand which she gladly took.

“Hahaha it seems Cedric's courage has spread to others.”

Leon grumbled something under his breath before he walked away from the other two. Clavis waited for awhile to be sure Leon was out of ear shot before he spoke.

“You know I was curious how my darling sister had planned to deal with this but I admit calling in her dear old Papa to handle it was not on my list.”

“Seems like I wasn't entirely needed though. Not when you can order around your knight to order around his son. What did that cost you anyway?”

“Oh I didn't have to pay, as it turns out dear Cedric finds the Princess quite enchanting. I did have to stop his father from discouraging him but anything for young love.”

Mr. Akatsuki groaned and Clavis' expression turned serious.

“Leon still has a lot to learn doesn't he?”

“Yes, but he’ll get there eventually. At least my granddaughter is also making sensible choices.”

“True, she could have been led astray by someone like Jin, or Nokto.”

“Or even worse, you.”

“Dearie me, that hurts my feelings.”

“You'll be fine and so will he.”

“Of course, but will you be fine?”

“Huh?”

There was a devilish grin on Clavis' face as his gaze settled on Emma and Leon who had now joined the other dancers on the floor.

“Well Sophie is still pure and innocent after all but Emma isn't. I mean they have eight children after all and the direction Leon's hands are currently going in it looks to me like he may be anxious to try for numb- ow!”

Clavis began rubbing the back of his head, he was honestly surprised the old man still had so much strength in him.

“Clearly Emma learned her famous, or should I say infamous, slap from you.”

“Nope, hers is even worse.”

Clavis shuddered at the thought while Mr. Akatsuki began to laugh, taking what solace he could in Clavis' pain.

[wistfulwanderingone]

The Fated Macaron

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Characters: Yves Kloss, Licht Klein, Cassandra (OC); (Clavis X OC story AU)

Summary: After embarrassing herself in the palace ballroom, Cassandra meets two young men

Timeline: 2 years after Bloodstained Rose Day, 8 years before the "Belle" year.

Thank you @dododrawsstuff for the art piece of Cassandra with her friends. Be sure to check out her page if you haven't! She's amazing!

@aide-falls @candiedcoffeedrops You will hopefully enjoy this!

The Fated Macaron

Standing in the entryway to the palace ballroom, Cassandra Bellerose smoothed the pale pink fabric of her gown for the umpteenth time. This room alone was more regal and elaborate than even her family’s own ballroom. Crystal sconces lined the wall, casting a warm glow over the room and reflecting off the polished marble floors and gilded mirrors. The air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers and expensive perfume, and the hum of conversation buzzed like a hive of bees from behind the immense double doors before her.

She glanced at her reflection in one of the mirrors and frowned. Her emerald eyes, framed by long dark lashes, stared back at her, wide and anxious. They reminded her of a doe caught off guard in the woods. Freckles, a rare and despised trait among nobles, dotted the bridge of her nose despite her mother’s attempts to cover them with face powder. Her rosy cheeks, flushed from the nerves and heat of the room, seemed to expose her every nervous thought. She wore the family colors of pastel pink and gold, her gown a delicate confection of silk and lace that shimmered with every step. The dress was beautiful, but it felt like a stiff costume, a mask used to distract from her own flawed true personality. She noticed a stray strand of brown hair escaping her meticulously crafted updo, stubbornly refusing to stay in place despite her best efforts. Tucking it back with a sigh, she couldn't help but feel the familiar sting of insecurity. Was she pretty enough? Graceful enough? Worthy of the attention that would fall upon her and her family tonight? Would she embarrass them? Disappoint them? Fail them? Would the perfectly crafted mask slip and reveal her true self and ruin her family?

As she followed her family toward the broad doors, each step felt like she was walking a tightrope. The doors opened, and she watched as her sister and her husband stepped into the light and the herald announced them. “Presenting Comtess Evangeline Bellarose-Toussaint and her husband, Comte Tristan Toussaint.” Beautiful Evangeline glowed like the confident, radiant rose she was, and her handsome, aristocratic husband smiled as all eyes turned to look at them.

Cassandra knew she couldn’t even begin to compare to the beauty and perfect grace her sister personified. Still, she took a deep breath and stepped forward beside her parents. It was all she could do not to jump as the herald’s loud voice boomed beside them. "Presenting Marquess and Marchioness Bellerose and their daughter, Lady Cassandra Bellerose."

Her parents led the way, their posture perfect, their expressions serene. Cassandra, bringing up the rear, felt every gaze in the room turn towards them. The walls seemed to close in on her, but she kept her head high, the lessons drilled into her by her parents echoing in her mind. Be graceful, be poised, be perfect. Do not frown. And absolutely do not trip on your dress. The weight of their expectations pressed down on her, making her shoulders stiffen, but she forced herself to smile, her emerald eyes scanning the crowd. The room was filled with nobility; each face more resplendent than the last, adorned in jewels and silks that shimmered under the chandeliers. But all she wanted was to find a quiet corner where she could disappear, avoiding any chance of causing ignominy for her family.

As they made their way deeper into the ballroom, Cassandra's gaze drifted upward, taking in the grandeur of the space. Brilliant crystal chandeliers, each of their facets catching the light, cast a warm, heavenly glow over the entire room. They hung from a high ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes, each depicting scenes of Rhodolitian myth and legend. The polished marble floors gleamed underfoot, reflecting the light in a way that made the entire room sparkle. The centerpiece of the floor was an elaborate mosaic of a rose, its petals unfurling in exquisite detail. Tall, arched, gilded windows, each framed in ornate gold, allowed the moonlight to stream in, adding a cool, silvery touch to the warm glow of the chandeliers and the myriad candles.

Everywhere she looked, there were fresh, fragrant roses adorning every surface, from the tables laden with fine china and crystal to the mantels and window ledges. The air was thick with their sweet scent, mingling with the more subtle notes of expensive perfumes the guests wore. It was a room designed and decorated to impress and awe, every detail meticulously crafted to create an atmosphere of elegance and splendor. Cassandra was in awe of the sheer beauty and opulence surrounding her. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale, but her anxiety overshadowed her ability to appreciate it like she would have liked.

Her parents glided through the crowd with practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and nodding at acquaintances. Evangeline and Tristan followed suit, basking in the adoration and admiration of the other guests. Cassandra, however, felt like an imposter. Her fingers brushed the delicate emerald necklace at her throat, a gift from her parents meant to enhance her beauty and status. But all it did was remind her of the expectations she could never quite meet. The necklace, though beautiful, felt like a chain binding her to a role she had never wanted, a constant reminder of her family's relentless ambition and expectations—things that she couldn’t even begin to desire.

Her eyes scanned the crowd again, looking for any familiar face, any friend who might offer her a moment of genuine connection in this sea of superficiality. The room was a blur of pastel gowns and dark suits, each person more resplendent than the last, yet all blending into a tapestry of indifference.

She knew it was hopeless—it always was. Everyone who spoke to her did so because of her family’s status or to secure a good deal on gems from their mine. Since her debut earlier in the year, men had begun to shower her with attention, but it was all for her family’s wealth and title, not out of any real interest in her. The polite smiles and flattering compliments felt hollow, their words thinly veiled attempts to curry favor with her influential parents. And why wouldn’t they use her in such ways? The only ranks higher than her parents in the kingdom were the royal family and the dukes. With her sister married into a count’s family, her family's wealth and title would eventually fall to her and whichever man married her.

Cassandra's heart ached from it all. She longed for true, heartfelt affection, someone to see beyond the glittering facade and see her soul—a soul that burned with passion and fire. She wanted to be free to be herself, chase her dreams, and be with someone whom she could love deeply and thoroughly and who would love her just as much in return. She hated this world of calculated alliances and strategic marriage. She wanted not part of it. But what other choice did she have? Such dreams seemed naive and unattainable. The reality of her circumstances was suffocating, where her every move was scrutinized and her every word measured and where no part of who she truly was could ever be permitted or welcomed.

As the evening wore on, her thoughts became unbearable. Cassandra's pulse quickened, and she desperately sought an escape from the overwhelming crowd. She needed a quiet corner to collect herself. Her steps became more hurried, and her breath came in short, anxious bursts.

Just as she spied a quieter corner, she collided with a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes. The tray tipped, and the delicate glasses tumbled to the floor, shattering with a loud crash at her feet. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, and suddenly, all eyes were on her. The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence deafening.

Cassandra's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of their stares, the judgment in their eyes. She dared to glance at her parents, whose faces were masks of polite disapproval, their perfect composure a stark contrast to her own flustered state.

Whispers of her clumsiness spread like wildfire through the room. She could hear the hushed words, the snide comments disguised as concern.

"Poor thing, always so awkward."

"Such a shame, considering her family's status."

"Perhaps she shouldn't have come out so soon."

Cassandra's vision blurred with unshed tears as she bent down to help the waiter pick up the shattered pieces. Her hands trembled, the sharp edges of the glass pricking her fingers. She forced herself to breathe and calm the storm of emotions within her.

A hand grabbed hers, squeezing gently. "My lady, I can take care of this. Are you alright?" the waiter asked, his voice filled with concern.

She nodded, unable to trust her voice, and managed a weak smile. "Yes, thank you. I'm so sorry."

As she stood, her gaze once again met the disapproving eyes of her parents. She could see the disappointment etched on their faces, a silent reprimand before they turned their noses up and walked away. Their scrutiny and judgment made it even harder to breathe.

Desperate to escape, Cassandra made a quick curtsy to the crowd before heading to the small alcove at the edge of the ballroom she had spotted before her collision with the waiter. The whispers followed her, but she forced herself to keep moving, however unsteadily, with her head held high, longing for a moment of solitude where she could gather what little remained of her composure.

At last, she pressed herself into the corner behind a large potted plant, desperately trying to keep her tears at bay. She took deep, shaky breaths, her fingers trembling as they traced the delicate emerald necklace at her throat. The fronds provided a fragile barrier between her and the bustling ballroom. Leaning back against the wall, she gazed up at the ornate ceiling, the intricate patterns blurring as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She felt like a fragile vase, carefully displayed and polished, yet always on the verge of shattering. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, shimmering like raindrops on the brink of falling.

The incident with the waiter replayed in her mind; the sound of splintering glass mingling with the murmurs of the guests, her parents’ dismay. Each one of their disapproving glances and words felt like a sharp dagger piercing her heart. 

Why do I care so much? She clenched her fists as her internal voice became harsh and unforgiving. Why does it matter what they think? Why do I try so hard to please everyone? But then, the reasons came flooding back, each one a tether that bound her to this life. The innate desire for her parents’ love and approval, the importance of the family name and it’s historical significance, and the fact that she was a seventeen year-old woman with no other prospects or ability to provide for herself. What other choice do I have? If she ran away, she'd be destitute, wandering the streets with no means to provide for herself. 

Over and over again, she reminded herself that this was her duty, her role to play, her only option, even if it felt like a prison. The thought of escaping, of living a life free from these constraints, was a tantalizing fantasy. But it was just that—a fantasy. She was trapped in this gilded cage, her wings clipped by obligation and reality, the bars forged from the iron of familial duty and societal pressure.

Finally, she began to feel a little bit calmer. Taking a deep breath she peered through the fronds of the potted plant, her eyes landing on a young man standing by the dessert table. He was the picture of flawlessness in his elegant pink attire, exuding an aura of nobility and refinement. His outfit was impeccable, every detail meticulously arranged. The tailored pink coat, adorned with intricate gold embroidery, complemented his delicate and beautiful face. His honey-blonde hair framed his delicate, porcelain features, and his sparkling blue eyes held an air of aloofness. Despite his haughty demeanor, a subtle unease flickered in those eyes. He stood there, a delicate statue of perfection, yet there was a fragility in his stance, a hidden vulnerability that resonated with her own feelings.

Cassandra recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same unease she felt in social gatherings. Her heart went out to him. The urge to comfort him, to offer some semblance of understanding, welled up inside her. Maybe no one would help her out of her own situation, but helping others had always been her refuge, a way to distract herself from her own struggles and to make someone else’s day better.

Then she noticed something else about him. No one approached him, no one spoke to him. They glanced at him with a strange mix of judgment and unease. Once they had receded a few steps, they whispered. He remained aloof; the only sign he noticed was the faint movement of his Adam’s apple each time it happened. And suddenly, she felt even more akin to him.

As she watched, another figure joined him. Clad in blue and gold, his military-style outfit was simpler yet equally commanding. His silvery hair, tousled and slightly unruly, framed his pale, porcelain-like complexion and highlighted his sharp jawline and piercing red eyes. She couldn’t hear the words they spoke to each other, but he stood close to the blonde man, his eyes scanning the room with a protective intensity as he spoke. Despite his solemn, almost detached expression, there was a warmth in the way he stayed close to the first man as if giving him a sense of assurance.

Gathering her courage, Cassandra stepped out from behind the plant, her movements tentative. She reminded herself that helping others always made her feel better, and perhaps offering a kind word to these strangers would do the same. She made her way across the room, her eyes never leaving the blonde man. As she approached, she noticed the faint lines of tension around his mouth and the way his fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve. 

"These desserts look amazing, don't they?" she said, her voice soft, attempting to break the ice.

Both men turned their gaze to her. The blond one’s crystal blue eyes were wide and childlike before he narrowed them suspiciously. "If you’re going to compliment the desserts, at least have the decency not to spill anything on them," he replied, his tone brusque but not entirely unkind, as he turned back to the other man.

Cassandra felt a momentary sting at his words, but as she looked closer, she sensed something beneath his haughty exterior—almost like he was trying to hide his vulnerability. His eyes, despite their sharpness, held a flicker of uncertainty, a guardedness that intrigued her.

“I’ll be careful," she promised. “You seem to be guarding these sweets. If I didn’t know better…I’d think you had made them yourself.” She offered a gentle smile, hoping to break through his defensive facade.

Wide child-like eyes again, then a frown and rosy-red cheeks. “What did you say?”

The silvery-haired man beside him regarded her with a wary gaze. His striking red eyes seemed to bore into her as if he were assessing her intentions. Despite his guarded demeanor, Cassandra sensed a deep sadness and a fierce protectiveness in him, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Who are you?" the silvery-haired man asked, his voice low and guarded, as though bracing for a threat.

"Cassandra Bellerose," she replied, striving to keep her tone light and non-threatening, yet she felt a twinge of anxiety under his intense gaze. "I didn't mean to intrude. I couldn’t resist these desserts. It's not often I get to enjoy such fine sweets."

As she appraised the table, her eyes landed on a perfectly pink macaron sitting on a plate like a tiny, edible jewel. The delicate confection was too tempting to resist. Just as her fingers brushed its surface, the blond man nearly jumped at her.

"How dare you!" he squeaked, his voice a pitch higher than she expected. The blond man’s eyes were wide with shock and indignation, his perfect features contorted in a way that was both intimidating and oddly endearing. 

Cassandra froze, the macaron poised precariously between her fingers near her mouth, her heart pounding in her chest.  She could feel the tension crackling in the air, and for a brief moment, she was sure he was going to grab a cake knife and end her life.  The vibrant ballroom seemed to fade around her, the chatter and music muffled as if submerged underwater.

"I’m sorry," she managed to stammer, her voice barely audible over the roaring in her ears. "I didn't realize...I just thought...it looked so delicious." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Maybe coming over here wasn’t her brightest idea. No wonder her parents were always so nervous when they brought her to social events. The vibrant ballroom seemed to close in around her, its opulence and grandeur becoming suffocating as she stood there, the weight of her social faux pas pressing heavily on her shoulders.

"Yves," the silver-haired man said, laying a hand on his companion’s shoulder with a calm, steadying presence. “She didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” Cassandra asked, her hand trembling slightly as she tried to decide what to do with the macaron. The delicate treat now felt like a burden, her fingers itching to put it back.

Yves didn’t seem capable of speech, his face a fiery red, eyes wide with indignation. He looked utterly scandalized, and Cassandra could see his lips moving wordlessly, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

The silver-haired man’s crimson eyes landed on her. Despite his stoicism, she felt an unexpected kindness radiating from him. "Yves made that for me. He said it would be my reward for attending this ball," he explained, his voice low and measured yet carrying a warmth that put her somewhat at ease.

Cassandra felt her cheeks warm even more as guilt filled her chest. She looked at the macaron, its vibrant pink mocking her, and then back at Yves, whose mortified expression tugged at her heart. “I am so so sorry,” she said earnestly, her voice quivering. She extended her hand to return the macaron to the silver-haired man, her movements tentative and apologetic.

"It’s alright," he said gently, taking the macaron from her hand. "Yves puts a lot of effort into his baking, and it means a great deal to him. Thank you for understanding."

Cassandra nodded, feeling relief and lingering embarrassment. "I do understand. And for what it’s worth, it looks absolutely exquisite. You have a real talent," she said, offering Yves a smile, hoping to convey her admiration and regret for the misunderstanding.

Yves's cheeks remained flushed, the fiery red slowly fading as he finally found his voice. He took a deep breath, his eyes flickering between the macaron in the silver-haired man's hand and Cassandra's apologetic expression.

“It’s...fine,” Yves managed to say, his voice still edged with irritation but noticeably softer. He ran a hand through his blond hair, a gesture that seemed to steady him as he smoothed it. “Just...be more self-aware next time.”

Cassandra nodded fervently, her own cheeks still burning with embarrassment. “I promise. I didn’t mean to offend you. I truly admire the effort and skill it takes to create something like this.” She glanced at the pink macaron with a newfound appreciation for the care and precision behind its creation.

The silver-haired man gave Cassandra a reassuring nod, his crimson eyes conveying a silent message of understanding. “I’m Licht, by the way,” he said. “And this is my brother, Yves.”

Cassandra smiled, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. “It's a pleasure to meet you both.” She gave a small curtsy, hoping to convey her sincerity through the graceful gesture. “Again, I’m truly sorry.” 

Licht cleared his throat and reached out to take her hand in his. “We can share this.” He placed the macaron gently into her hand, his crimson eyes looking so soft and sincere, if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was smiling.

Cassandra’s heart fluttered at the unexpected kindness. She met Licht’s gaze, feeling a strange connection form in the silent exchange. “I’d like that,” she said softly, breaking the macaron in half and offering one part to Licht. The delicate treat crumbled slightly in her hand, releasing a subtle fragrance of rose.

Licht took his half with a nod of thanks. Yves watched the exchange, his expression softening further as he saw kindness between them. 

As they each took a bite, the rich, floral flavors mingled on Cassandra’s tongue, and the macaron fairly melted in her mouth. “Mmm!” She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips. Yves truly was talented! “Rose and lemon…and is that a hint of lavender? I love lavender!”

Yves eyes widened, and his perfectly pink lips dropped open. “Yes it is. I can’t believe you could tell after one bite.”

Licht’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Everything Yves makes is really good.”

As he spoke, Cassandra noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—a longing, perhaps, for simplicity or joy. A sudden urge to understand him better and offer comfort or companionship welled up inside her.

"I believe it!" she exclaimed sincerely, her voice warm with appreciation as she turned back to Yves. "Baking requires a lot of skill and patience. You have quite the talent; this is the most delicious macaron I’ve ever tasted. And it’s so light and airy. I’ve never had success with making macarons, but I can make a mean mille-feuille.”

Yves’ cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, making him look utterly embarrassed and, to her, even more endearing. He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. "Here," he said gruffly. "You’ve got a bit of...something on your dress, Lady Cassandra."

Cassandra took the handkerchief, a bit startled by the unexpected kindness. "Thank you," she said, dabbing at the small spot she hadn’t even noticed. "You can just call me Cassandra, by the way."

"Don’t think this means you can just take whatever you want,” he stated, though his tone was much softer, almost teasing. “I’m very particular about who gets to eat my desserts and you’ve yet to pass the test."

She couldn’t help but smile at his haughty tone, sensing the warmth beneath his stern exterior. "I wouldn’t dream of it without your permission," she teased lightly, hoping to see more of his softer side.

His blush crept even higher up his cheeks, and he looked away. "Well, you’ve got my permission for now. Just don’t make a mess," he said turning back to her, his tone softer than before.

Cassandra took the last bite of the macaron, savoring the exquisite balance of flavors. The delicate shell gave way to a burst of rose and lavender, making her close her eyes and hummed to herself briefly in appreciation. 

She wanted to prolong the conversation and delve deeper into the lives of these intriguing strangers. But the crowded ballroom was stifling, and the weight of curious eyes felt like a tangible pressure on her shoulders. She glanced toward the tall windows, their glass panes reflecting the warm light of the chandeliers, and saw the garden beyond, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The thought of escaping to the tranquility of the garden, away from the prying eyes, was too tempting to resist.

"This room is getting rather stuffy," Cassandra said, her gaze shifting back to Yves and Licht. "Would you two like to join me for a stroll in the garden? It's much cooler out there, and we could continue our conversation..."

Yves looked hesitant, glancing at Licht for confirmation. Licht gave a barely perceptible nod, his expression unreadable. "Alright," Yves agreed, his tone begrudging but not unfriendly. "I suppose some fresh air wouldn't hurt."

What began as an attempt to make someone else feel good, to distract herself from her insecurities, had quickly blossomed into curiosity. She sensed that beneath their facades, these two young men harbored great depths of character. From Yves, she sensed a profound loneliness and vulnerability, carefully masked with his sharp tongue and haughty demeanor. Licht, on the other hand, exuded a subtle melancholy that intrigued her, hinting at a past filled with grief and unspeakable burdens. His silence and reserved manner suggested a heart that had endured far too much.

The cool night air was a welcome change from the oppressive heat of the ballroom, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation. Cassandra found her heart opening up to them. She wanted to break through the walls they had built around themselves and offer something more genuine—friendship, perhaps, or understanding, whatever it was they needed. Her own struggles and her family’s expectations faded into the background. In that moment, she sensed a familiar yearning in them, one that mirrored her own desire for something deeper than the hollow exchanges of the ballroom.

Yves led the way to a secluded corner of the garden and a stone bench nestled under a flowering arbor. The scent of roses filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the garden. 

"It's so peaceful out here," Cassandra said, looking up at the stars twinkling above and inhaling deeply. "I feel like I can breathe properly for the first time all evening." She settled onto the bench, gesturing for Yves and Licht to join her. 

Licht remained standing, his posture relaxed but alert, while Yves took a seat beside her, his expression softening slightly. The moonlight bathed his features, making the tension lines around his eyes less severe. "It is less insufferable out here," Yves remarked, his voice quieter. "I can't stand these grand events."

Cassandra nodded in understanding. "Neither can I. It's all so...overwhelming at times. But it's nice to meet new people, especially when they're as interesting as you two."

"You have very peculiar taste," Yves remarked, his voice carrying a touch of dismissiveness.

Cassandra laughed softly, feeling more at ease. "Well, I mean it. You both seem so...genuine. It's rare to find that in these circles."

Licht, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "You're not like the others," he said, his tone contemplative. "You're different."

Cassandra looked up at him, surprised by the observation. "Different how?"

Licht's red gaze was steady, piercing. "You actually care. Most people here are only interested in appearances and status. But you...you're sincere."

Cassandra felt a blush rise to her cheeks and a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude swell within her. "Thank you," she said softly. "That means a lot. I don’t want to be like them.” She gestured towards the glass doors where they could see the nobles dancing. “Honestly, I feel out of place. I don’t want to lose who I am or what I feel…” but she trailed off and bit her lip. She was starting to talk too much, revealing too much of her inner emotions.

"It's exhausting, pretending to be something you're not,” Yves stated softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

Licht nodded solemnly. 

“With us, you can just be yourself," Yves assured her, his voice softening with warmth.

Cassandra smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Thank you." As the words left her lips, she felt a rush of vulnerability, almost embarrassed by how quickly she had opened up to them. The sincerity in their eyes reassured her, but the sudden rawness of her emotions left her feeling exposed.

As if sensing her discomfort, Yves cleared his throat. "So, Cassandra," he began, his tone taking on a conversational lilt, "what's your favorite dessert? I assume someone who enjoys sweets as much as you must have a preference."

Cassandra blinked at the unexpected question. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she was grateful for the diversion. "Oh, that's a tough one," she replied,  a smile forming on her lips. "I think I'd have to say lavender shortbread cookies. There's something about the delicate floral flavor combined with buttery sweetness that I just love."

Yves's eyes lit up with interest. "Lavender shortbread cookies, huh? A unique choice. Maybe... maybe you'd like to join us for afternoon tea next week? I could make some for you then." His cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink once again and he glanced away as if regretting the hasty invite.

"I'd love that." Cassandra's smile widened, feeling overjoyed at the invitation to spend more time with them. "And what about you, Yves? What's your favorite dessert to make?"

Yves leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face as he gazed up at the night sky. "I enjoy making all sorts of desserts, but if I had to choose, I'd say éclairs. There's something satisfying about getting the choux pastry just right and filling them with rich, creamy custard."

"Yves's darioles are my favorite," Licht, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. 

The conversation flowed more easily after that. They shared stories, laughter, and even moments of comfortable silence. Yves’s sharp wit and Licht’s quiet strength became increasingly apparent, and Cassandra found herself drawn to their authenticity. The garden, with its fragrant roses and whispering trees, became a haven for them, a place where they could be themselves without the pressures of the ballroom. Cassandra felt an even stronger connection forming, a friendship that seemed to blossom under the stars.

It was only later, however, when a passing servant bowed deeply and addressed Yves and Licht as "Your Highnesses," that the realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened in shock, and she turned to them, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're...you're princes?"

Yves gave her a rueful smile, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I suppose we forgot to mention that part."

"Does it matter?" Licht's expression remained unreadable as he watched her with his crimson eyes, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his silver hair. 

Cassandra shook her head quickly, a smile spreading across her face. "No," she said softly. "It doesn't matter at all."

As they continued their walk through the moonlit garden, Cassandra felt a warmth spread through her, grateful for the unexpected camaraderie and the genuine interest they had shown in her. The night seemed to wrap around them like a comforting blanket, making her feel, for the first time in a long while, truly at ease. Under the starlit sky, she had found kindred spirits in the most unexpected of places, and for the first time in a long while, she felt hope for what the future might bring.

[ikemenlibrary]

Ikémen Prince Gift Exchange Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who chose to participate in this event and helped make it a success! Everyone is so talented, and I am in awe of all of you <3 Going through all your pieces have been truly enjoyable and I've loved every minute of it!

Prove It To Me | Jin Grandet x Reader | by @nightghoul381 for xxsycamore

They Say Distance Makes The Heart Grow Fonder | Nokto Klein x Emma (MC) | by @xxsycamore for nightghoul381

Unaccepted Together | Clavis Lelouch x Reader | by @nightghoul381 for scummy-writes

Autumn Daze | Gilbert Von Obsidian x MC | by @scummy-writes for daegupaksu

A Starry Tryst (Artwork) | Nokto Klein x Noele (OC) | by @daegupaksu for drachonia

Sea at Sunrise (Artwork) | Silvio Ricci x MC | by @drachonia for nightghoul381

Bookmarked Dialogue | Keith Howell x Julie (OC) | by @ikemenlibrary for queengiuliettafirstlady

The Gentle Stag Rewrites The Stars | Keith Howell x MC | by @queengiuliettafirstlady for ridiculouslly-ridiculous

Princess Picnic Pick Me Up | Rio Ortiz, Clavis Lelouch, Silvio Ricci, Gilbert Von Obsidian, MC | by @ridiculouslly-ridiculous for misty-moth

Peter Clavis and the Lost Boys (Artwork) | Clavis Lelouch, Nokto Klein, Luke Randolph | by @misty-moth for pondlilies00

Take a Rest (Artwork) | Sariel Noir x MC | by @pondlilies00 for alydra (bluejay-writes)

This is fine. | Chevalier Michel x MC | by @bluejay-writes for randonauticrap

Ember Glows the Heart | Leon Dompteur x MC/Reader | by @randonauticrap for myonlyjknight

A Clavish Day Off | Clavis Lelouch x MC | by @myonlyjknight for claviscollections

Petrichor | Yves Kloss x MC/Reader | by @claviscollections for pillowpillowillow

The Voyager Prince (Artwork) | Silvio Ricci | by @pillowpillowillo for aquilapolariz

In Business, In Life | Silvio Ricci x Hyacinth (OC) | by @aquilapolariz for tacogawa

La Belle et la Bête (Artwork) | Leon Dompteur x MC | by @tacogawa for kokorokai

The Tyrant's New Wife (Artwork) | Silvio Ricci x Airin D'Avalos (OC) | by @kokorokai for airin-queenz

Chilly Morning's Date | Licht Klein x MC | by @airin-queenz for ikemenlibrary

Read to Me | Chevalier Michel x MC | by @ikeromantic for aquagirl1978

What Was I Made For | Gilbert Von Obsidian x Rosemary (OC) | by @aquagirl1978 for prisoniclover

Return | Leon Dompteur x Emma (MC) | by @prisoniclover for chirp-a-chirp

Cat-astrophe | Clavis Lelouch x MC | by @chirp-a-chirp (with art by @aide-falls) for katriniac (ohtomatotome)

Getting There is Half the Fun | Keith Howell x Emma (MC) | by @ohtomatotome for violettduchess

Practical Magic | Clavis Lelouch x Emma (MC) | by @violettduchess for ikeromantic

[shatcey]

Licht's sequel 3ch (Bite. part 2)

I hate the King of Tanzanite. Do you hear it Ennis? I hate you!!!

That's it. That's all I wanna say.

No, that's a lie, but I won't show any screenshots. Only… I call it the practice of writing silly dialogues. To understand what they are talking about, I suggest reading this first.

Just in case it's not that clear: Sariel, MC, Licht, Ennis (the king), Azel

Sari… could you give me your knife?

Why would you need it?

Without taking my eyes off the king.

He... asks for it…

I assure you, I understand your feelings completely. But we are here to establish closer ties with this country, so… it would be unwise for you to harm him.

I took a deep exhale.

You're right… I represent the country no less than Licht.

Are you discussing what to share with me?

I moved in his direction, intending to strangle him at least, but was stopped by Licht, who hugged me from behind.

What are you intend to do?

He's from the bloodline of that damn god, and it doesn't really matter if I hit him or kill him… the result will be the same.

He turned me around, still refusing to let go.

I'm fine. See? You shouldn't react like that.

This guy is… very…

What are you whispering about?

Don't! - Licht stopped me before I could open my mouth.

The commotion in the crowd gave me a pretty curtain idea who appeared there. I looked in the direction from which the noise was coming and met the gaze of the starry eyes.

I thought you have no desire to help?

I desided your last offer to bite me wasn't that bad…

...

It was a while ago…

Don't tell me you don't want it anymore.

...

Bite?

Oh, it was in a different version of that… day… I'm surprised Azel remembers.

I'm a God!

Agh... that joke of yours not funny anymore.

What's going on?

I'm trying to save your life, so shush.

Could someone please explain what prince Azel is talking about?

I don't understand either.

One day I said I wanted to bite his waist.

When? In your dream?

No, honey… It was…

...when…

I looked at Sariel.

When she was Sariel's fiancée.

Thank you, Azel. I didn't meant to say it out loud.

But nothing stopped you from saying that you saw me in a dream.

I look at him angrily.

Hey! When were you his fiancée?

In another... life?

I'm at a total loss…

I'm the king, you know! I can't be ignored like that. With all due respect to the current god…

We are strengthening ties between our countries.

Yes, by biting…

Wha?

Maybe we should look for a more private place.

No! I don't allow it.

Licht tightened his grip on me.

I'm not going to bite her, you know, it's the other way around.

I still don't like it!

Can I excuse myself from that conversation?

No, you are not. You were her fiancée at the time. You have to witness it.

Stop it! It's getting weirder and weirder.

You suggested it, not me.

Back then you didn't say a word.

I was shocked back then.

It took you a while to get over it…

What can I say...

You're slow!

How dare you say such a thing to God!

I moved towards him again, but Licht was still holding me.

I'm trying to save your life, Ennis. Can you at least not interfere?

Maybe we should find a more private place after all.

Sari bows to the king of Tanzanite and heads for the exit.

Licht finally lets go of me and repeats after Sari. I just follow Licht without any reverence and feel the gaze of this strange "definitely not God", who was walking behind me. He seems to want to make sure that I don't try to kill that damn king. I take a deep breath.

I warned you, didn't I?

I just nod.

Dividers @.sister-lucifer 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[scorchieart]

Double Deflection

Genre: Slice of Life, Comedy

Characters: Maron, White Horse, Licht Klein, Chevalier Michel

Wordcount: ~6400

Prompts: Blue: Loyalty, Yellow: Friendship

Summary: A late-night chat between horses and humans. Each has the potential to offer something, but gestures and facial expressions and mind reading aren't enough to tell when someone is asking for help.

A/N: My entry for the Wish Upon an Aide CC hosted by @lorei-writes and @wordycheeseblob. This story may borderline crack with its execution, but I hope it's an enjoyable read regardless.

If you were to ask Maron what he most wanted in the entire world he might respond with an enthused neigh, throwing back his mane, and a clop clop from his front-right hoof. If Maron could speak, he could say it was to eat carrots fresh from harvest, or to race through the fields outside the palace with the other horses, or to snooze indoors on a rainy afternoon while his rider Licht sang him a lullaby. Or something along those lines. In truth, it is difficult to say. The intricacies of horse communication cannot be covered comprehensively through text alone—tail swishing and muzzle twitching can easily get lost in translation, you see—but an attempt will be made to relay the events of this particular evening from both the equine and human perspectives to most accurately depict the story from all participating views.

Now, as we were saying, Maron, much like yourself and I, often finds it difficult to express his desires when asked on the spot. Any manner of things could affect the answer, from the place to the weather to even the time of day. Indeed, a much simpler question to ask (man and horse) is what he dislikes the most. And in the palace stables on that muggy summer’s eve, Maron was confident he was experiencing the absolute most dislikable thing imaginable.

“By the way, the kitchens were out of carrots.” 

Licht ducked his head in time before Maron whipped his tail.

“There’s no use taking it out on me,” Licht said, straightening up and resuming brushing Maron’s flank. “Believe me, you do me a favor eating them. But I swear this time they were gone before I could get to them.”

Maron snorted once and rubbed at his muzzle in what one would believe to be a contradictory manner.

“I doubt it. You should’ve seen the way Yves’s eyes lit up when he read about that new carrot cake recipe from Jade. He ordered double the monthly stock of carrots. And Leon approved it without even batting an eye.” At this, Licht covered his mouth and let out a small groan that on the surface appeared as though he was repressing a gag. Maron wiggled his nose in circular motions in response, which I am told is the horse-equivalent of scoffing and rolling one’s eyes.

“Don’t give me that. I said I’m fine,” said Licht, but both he and Maron knew he wasn’t. 

It is at this point I must confess that while I myself am not proficient at human-horse translations, my ineptitude is not a universal ailment. If you were so far unaware, there exist in our world a gifted few interspecial interpreters across the ages. Perhaps you have seen a dog warmly protecting a flock of chicks while the hen takes a bath? Or maybe you witnessed a squirrel rushing to call a goose to save a kitten from drowning in a lake? Sometimes this communication is as implicitly universal as a mother cares for her young, while in more curious cases gesture and sound bind common souls together. On exceedingly rare occasions, such a bond can manifest from one source to multiple different species with zero previous contact, as is the case with the Eighth Prince of Rhodolite. But just as special can be the connection built upon years of collaboration and struggle and trust, and Licht and Maron checked all these boxes multiple times over. Why, when Licht wraps the reins twice around his hands, Maron understands to hurry home because Yves is baking something special. And when Maron bonks his jaw against Licht’s head, Licht knows he’s being chastised. And whenever Licht says “I’m fine,” Maron learned it always to be a lie.

“Really, I am,” insisted Licht. “Let’s go for a ride in the morning. You’ll see.”

Not in the mood for an argument (they always ended up with them going in circles), Maron turned to look out the window and the two resumed their brushing routine without communication. The dewy night air hung thick and silent around them, and several times more Licht had to cover his mouth and cough as he worked. Maron’s ears twitched at the sound, but he never commented further. 

Just allergies, Licht told himself. Horse doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

And the night would have continued on unyieldingly so, as it always did when they disagreed in private, were it not for an unexpected development. The hairs on their limbs shot straight up as a cold, prickly sensation overtook the summer warmth, and Licht and Maron spun their heads towards each other in unison. Someone was entering the stables. 

Stubbornness forgotten, Maron slowly lifted his head and peered over the high walls. His stall was located in the back corner of the stable, but even through the darkness he could make out the tall cloaked figure leading a horse by hand through the entryway. 

Licht tapped his knuckles against Maron’s neck. What do you see?

Maron raised a hoof up and down twice. One human and one horse. Both look male.

Got it. Stay low. Licht quietly reached for the sword he lay on the ground beside Maron’s grooming tools. A prince wouldn’t be so foolish as to wander the palace unarmed, and Licht knew better than most how easy it was to sneak past the grounds undetected through the stables.

Be careful. Maron gently rubbed his muzzle against Licht’s back and ducked low behind the wall. What was meant to be encouragement consequently had the opposite effect on Licht. Maron, like all who lived at the palace, knew of his rider’s unparalleled mastery of the sword. It is said that his skills were only rivaled by two, but Prince Leon was presently knocked out on his couch after a full day tidying up the faction office, and to even consider Prince Chevalier to sneak around at night like some common hoodlum was simply unthinkable. So Maron’s warning made Licht grip his sword more forcefully as he took a defensive stance by the door. 

What need would a talented fighter have to visit the stables at this hour? Licht pondered the question as the foot-and-hoofsteps steadily approached their stall. Was it a spy fleeing into the night to relay royal secrets back to his master? A horse appraiser here to kidnap (horsenap) a prized palace stallion to sell off for exuberant riches? An enemy of the royal family who knew the swordsman Sixth Prince was an equine enthusiast and would therefore hesitate to fight back with a defenseless horse on the battlefield?

The truth, as I am sure you have already deduced, was none of the above. Unfortunately, the only living thing in the vicinity that could steer Licht’s thoughts away from the bizarre was currently pondering whether he could fight with a flat brush between his teeth if things became too dicey. And with the intruders now only a couple of stalls away, Licht did not have the agency to think rationally and burst out from his stall ready to swing.

What followed was a short, anticlimactic confrontation that I am sure Licht would prefer never to see the light of day. Unfortunately for him, Maron found the whole affair rather amusing, so I shall provide an abridged account.

No sooner than Licht exited the stall did an overwhelming cough threaten to overtake him. Midway through winding his arm for an attack, he had few options to steady himself from the conflicting forces of his limbs propelling him forward and his lungs pushing him back, and in the heat of the moment he elected to toss his sword upward into the air and simultaneously tackle the mystery man. He had hoped the shock of it all would stun his opponent long enough for him to recover and strike again, but this plan came to an early stop when his midsection was caught by a pair of taut arms and he found himself flipped, lifted, and staring upward into the displeased face of Prince Chevalier.

If you have ever been caught by your elders for sneaking out of your room past your bedtime, you would understand only a fraction of the dread coursing through Licht’s nerves in that moment. Aside from the obvious fact that he ambushed (with the intent to at the very least incapacitate) the Second Prince of Rhodolite, Licht was physically in a state he would best describe as Yves’s Fashion Nightmare™. His eyes were redder and less alert than usual, his frown curved down farther than it had in years, and his typical restless bedhead stuck out at wild angles, not in the least bit aided by the fact that he was currently suspended upside down. But oh, the worst offense of it all was his wardrobe! When the coughing fits had extinguished any hope of getting sleep, Licht slipped into the muckiest boots in his closet, tossed on a tattered old coat from his teenage years, picked up his sword, and headed straight for the stables. He could only pray Chevalier was too distracted by his annoyance to notice the wrinkly, hay-infested, cough-stained mess of his nightclothes. 

Chevalier’s stern gaze followed Licht’s to his outfit. Whoops… I forgot to mention Chevalier could read minds as well as narrations. 

“Please put me down,” said Licht, his voice barely masking: and spare me some dignity. Behind them Maron let out a sound almost like a chuckle, and Licht shot him a warning look he was sure lost all credibility of appearing threatening.

“What purpose have you here at this hour?” asked Chevalier, still holding on. It took a great deal of fortitude for Licht to not give in to his embarrassment and wiggle his way out of Chevalier’s clutches like a worm, but in the end he swallowed his discomfort and strained his neck to look back up.

“I could ask you the same,” Licht replied, and instantly regretted it. The blood flow to his brain must already be making him hysterical. Is that how blood worked? How long was he upside down for, anyway? 

Chevalier’s expression twisted into a deeper frown that easily topped any of Licht’s personal records. “Employ deflection at your own risk, mime,” he warned. But just as Licht was calculating the combined punishment for assaulting and backtalking Chevalier, a sudden gallop echoed across the hall, the pressure on his stomach lifted, and Licht fell head-first onto the mucky stable floor. 

Once the pain and shame faded enough, Licht opened his eyes and sat up expecting to find Chevalier towering over him. When all he saw was Maron merrily rolling on the floor whinnying, apparently now fully recovered from the intruder fiasco, Licht wondered if it was all just a sick-induced hallucination. The figures cloaked in night, the galloping, this headache; surely it was all in his mind and he merely tripped and fell from exhaustion. Bothered and bitter, he buttoned his coat and rubbed his bruising head, wondering if anything like this had happened recently, when Chevalier appeared once more in the entryway patiently guiding White Horse back inside.

“You frightened him,” he said when they reached the back stall. 

“Me?” said Licht, forgetting his headache and rising to face the pair. In all the years he’d known him, White Horse proved a stallion who did not know fear. Chevalier selected him to be his trusted steed from among all the foals—even passing up baby Maron and his adorable wobbly knees—because he was the first to fully stand on his own and the quickest to wean off from his mother. As the years passed, he only grew more magnificent and intimidating among his peers, heading fleets into battle like the gleaming helmet of the army. White Horse admitting he was afraid seemed the equivalent of Chevalier admitting defeat.

“Indeed. He was shocked to see you bursting out of the stall like a lunatic,” said Chevalier.

Licht felt his eye twitch, and not from the returning pain. “He’s a war horse. He’s seen far worse than that,” he said.

“True,” said Chevalier, “but you have never appeared before him looking so disheveled.”

A knot swelled in Licht’s throat. Was Maron right? Surely he hadn’t neglected his condition so carelessly that he let his appearance grow abominable enough to scare White Horse of all creatures. Yves, perhaps, but that was exactly why Licht had been avoiding his brother like the plague. 

“You do have some manner of plague,” said Chevalier.

“It’s only allergies,” Licht countered, muffling a cough into his arm.

“Strange how the clown never developed the same.” 

It was only then that Licht noticed Chevalier carried a bag across his shoulders when he pulled something out and tossed it. Licht caught it and looked it over; it was a newly washed towel, like the type soldiers used during training, but the stench it gave off was far more repugnant than even a shirtless, sweaty Prince Jin in the height of July. An earthy smell that lay buried deep in the back of his mind, but Chevalier was not intent on giving him the time to dig it out.

“Clean your face, it is offensive,” he said, then moved past Licht to look in the stall. Maron instantly sobered and stood. “And you, get out.”

“What for?” Licht asked. He held his breath and quickly wiped the sweat and grime from his face.

“This is White Horse’s preferred stall.”

“We were here first.”

“And I asked you first what you were doing here, and you have yet to answer me,” snapped Chevalier. “Our needs supersede yours unless you can prove otherwise.”

Licht and Maron each glared back at him, simmering in place. It wasn’t as though they didn’t have their reasons for choosing that particular stall; Maron enjoyed the bit of extra leg room the corner stall provided while Licht favored it for its distance from the entrance and ease to hide away in. But the other corner stall on the opposite side of the hall provided the same advantages, and Licht and Maron wondered why Chevalier and White Horse couldn’t simply occupy that one.

Normally, Licht would either frame his suggestion of the other corner this way or simply agree to move out to avoid confrontation, but he was ill-feeling courteous tonight after Chevalier banged his head like a boiled egg.

“What’s so special about this one that the others don’t have?” Licht asked. If by now you’re thinking Licht was playing his luck talking back yet again to Chevalier, you’d be right. But ever the megalomaniac (as Prince Clavis would insist), Chevalier acknowledged an informative rebuttal to his authority as a worthy challenge and allowed the conversation to continue for just a little longer.

Chevalier rolled his eyes at this insinuation. “The window,” he responded.

“They all have windows,” said Licht.

“This one provides the best view of town,” said Chevalier, then he huffed. “I grow tired of this chatter. Vacate yourselves before I do it myself.”

Licht was not satisfied, but he knew better than to argue with Chevalier once a discussion was deemed concluded. Though Maron would take some more convincing to leave. They were still midway through grooming and all the tools were laid out and ready after all, but to Licht’s surprise the horse walked out without any prompting, passed Chevalier, and lowered his head to sniff the towel in Licht’s hand.

“Don’t lick that, Maron. It’s dirty,” said Licht, pushing him away. But Maron pressed his nose to the towel and began chewing at its edge. “It’s not food. Stop!” Licht grabbed the other end and pulled and pulled, but Maron’s chomp was firm and refusing to yield.

“Haybrain,” Licht said, tugging harder. “You’d think you were munching on a bunch of—” And then the pain in his head nearly completely vanished as a wave of realization surged through him. Sometimes it takes a little longer for Maron’s messages to reach Licht.

Still maintaining his grip, Licht steadied his stance and asked, “Prince Chevalier, what else is in your bag?”

Chevalier, who had been leading White Horse into the newly emptied stall and therefore took little notice of the tug-of-war behind him, curled his hand around the straps on his shoulder at the sound of his name. “Has your condition also turned you excessively chatty?” he said. “Perhaps some rest will restore your quietude, mime.”

Licht and Maron exchanged a glance across the towel and nodded. “Employ deflection at your own risk. Now!” yelled Licht, and the two charged towards the stall. 

If you have been at all paying attention to this unwieldy tale, you may recall the last time Licht attempted to ambush Chevalier earned him an unsavory bump on both his pride and his forehead, and you are probably wondering what on Earth would lead him to believe a second attempt would fare any better. You may also remember in that little skirmish Licht threw his sword up in the air and have probably been questioning this story for the past few pages about where it landed. Rest assured, these inconsistencies shall be answered in due course. But first we must discuss strategy.

In addition to being a gifted swordsman, Licht was also a budding tactician. And while his brothers agreed his open-fighting battleplans leaned excessively self-destructive, no one could deny Licht’s acumen for sneak attacks. Even Maron trusted Licht on this front, which is why he made sure to match Licht’s speed in their charge even though his trajectory would knock him into White Horse. As soon as Chevalier noticed their approach, he whipped around, grabbed the towel with both hands, and ripped the fabric in midair. 

The force of the rip wobbled the two off guard, and while Maron quickly managed to steady himself to a reasonable halt before colliding with White Horse, Licht surged forward and knocked his side into a pillar separating two adjacent stalls. But before his fall, he made sure to wrap his remaining half of the towel around Chevalier’s wrist and drag the man down with him. The impact of the hit shook the entire building, causing a certain misplaced sword that was previously precariously balanced just above the princes to slip out of its place and fall. Chevalier, still stuck in the hand trap, roughly shoved his and Licht’s bodies out of the line of descent and replaced them with his bag. The bag cushioned the fall and prevented the sword from ricocheting into anyone, but not without sacrificing itself to the cause as the blade cleanly cut through the linen and deposited the contents within. Dozens of bright orange carrots, of different sizes and thicknesses by the bushel, spilled out from the tear and rolled across the stable floor.

This narrator now takes this chance to inform the audience (and Prince Chevalier) that Licht is also very skilled in deflection. And in humility.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut if you do,” Licht offered once the two managed to pry as many carrots as they could away from the hungry horses’ mouths. They piled the saved carrots into the bag and lifted it together to keep them out of the horses’ reach and from spilling again.

“The information I have on your condition is far more significant than a simple carrot heist,” said Chevalier, unperturbed by the turn of events.

It was the truth. Licht nabbed carrots from the kitchens loads of times before, and the response from the cooks never extended beyond an angry rant to the domestic faction office about coordinating supply every few months or so. Jin always claimed it was probably a herd of hungry rabbits sneaking into the kitchens at night, and that was enough to placate the masses. Missing carrots didn’t spell the end of the world, after all. Surely they would treat this incident in the same way. On the other hand, Chevalier still lorded Licht’s illness over his head like a carrot on a stick (which in Licht’s circumstance meant the exact opposite of that saying). Any moment now he could decide to leave the stables and tell Sariel about Licht’s total lack of self-care. Or worse, he could tell Yves.

No, Licht had to gain some leverage over Chevalier right there and now. If only he could figure out why he was there in the first place.

The bag seemed to increase in weight with each passing moment, and the orange poking out from the rip goaded Licht like a heckler in the audience. He shut his eyes and breathed through his mouth to stave them off. Just their presence muddied his mind—why did there have to be so many carrots? 

The best he could do for now was to keep up the deflecting. Even if that meant he had to keep up the talking.

“If White Horse eats this many, he’ll have an upset stomach in the morning,” he said.

“They were not all meant for him, obviously,” Chevalier explained. “When dealing with animals, extra precautions must be taken to guarantee a successful transaction should any anomalies arise.”

Licht pondered over those words. Couldn’t Chevalier ever say what he meant directly? (“No,” said Chevalier.)

“You’re saying you needed hush money—er, food in case other horses saw you two? Were you expecting to wake up the entire herd?” asked Licht.

“Precautions taken for the worst-case scenario naturally account for any hypothetical.”

“Except for my being here, apparently.”

“No, I had accounted for this as well. Though I had expected you to have fled from the vicinity of all these carrots by now.”

The tear gaped slightly as Licht’s hold tensed. Did Chevalier view him as a child who still couldn’t look foods he disliked straight on? Was Chevalier basing his reactions on tests he performed on Nokto, he wondered? He recalled a time years ago when Nokto returned from a diplomatic trip to Benitoite complaining about how their boasting of their recent super successful carrot harvest forced him to cut the trip short. It was the first time in ages Licht felt so strong an urge to console his twin when he heard the news, but what if Chevalier had a different reaction? Something seemed off about it all.

He decided to test his theory. “You’d need a boat-load of carrots to do that. And strand me on a deserted island first,” he said.

“I shall keep that in mind for the next order and charter a vessel from the Jangler,” said Chevalier.

“Nokto already asked us to halt carrot orders to the palace once. Leon told him to submit a lengthy request form with evidence and justifications and we still voted against it, three-to-one. Unfortunately.”

“My word supersedes the clown’s, as well as it does yours.”

“I wasn’t implying otherwise. Only that palace supply orders are under our faction’s scope, not yours,” said Licht. This time the rip tore larger from Chevalier’s end.

Licht really was only speaking fluff at first, but now he felt he was on the verge of uncovering something scandalous.

“In fact, food orders are specifically handled by one of us four princes to prevent showing favoritism to any one noble or grower. And we keep the records of all orders locked in our office,” he continued. “Strange how you were able to run your worst-case scenario calculations when supply was different this month. Was it just a happy coincidence?”

“Enough stalling,” said Chevalier. “Speak your mind directly.”

“Prince Chevalier.” Licht paused and inhaled. “Have you been illicitly influencing the domestic faction’s operations behind the scenes?”

The stables went eerily quiet. Even the horses, who stopped following the conversation ever since the carrots came into view, could tell an intense weight had dropped, and this time Chevalier was on the receiving end. Maron silently cheered for Licht, while White Horse ground his teeth impatiently.

Slowly, purposefully, Chevalier’s mouth widened to a grin. One that simultaneously filled Licht with a sense of victory and unease. “You speak it as though it was a laborious effort, when in truth it does not take much to influence you buffoons. A cursory inspection of your office is proof enough of your dullwittedness, which made it exceedingly simple to send the clown over on his futile carrot prohibition request to peer pressure your lot into establishing a cleaning routine. Even simpler was it to determine which days were Black’s, considering he wakes with an obvious imprint of his couch’s pillow embroidery plastered across his cheek. But simplest of all was slipping the latest edition of Jade’s Renowned Recipes onto the showoff’s desk the morning after one of Black’s cleaning days.” 

The only thing preventing Licht from completely tearing up the bag was the understanding that it would drown him in those awful carrots, and that would only make him more upset. “There’s no way Nokto would agree to that,” he said to release some of the anger. “Your plan ended up with double the order of carrots in the end.”

“I never deigned to have co-conspirators,” said Chevalier.

It didn’t make sense, and yet with Chevalier it could. But it took such precise managing and calculating of everyone’s opinions and behaviors to have carried out so perfectly.

“But… but you still miscalculated,” Licht said in a small voice. “With me.”

“An unfortunate side effect of your seclusiveness. Lack of data points skews the probability of success. But this defect is of little consequence in the grand scheme of things,” said Chevalier, dropping his face to a frown once more. “Very well, we shall agree to never speak of this encounter beyond this night.”

A victory? Against Chevalier? On a mental battlefield? By all accounts, Licht should have been thrilled, even if this arrangement meant no one would ever know of his triumph. But a hollowness still dominated inside, different from the betrayal he felt from Chevalier’s reveal. He looked to Maron for support, and even his horsey smile wasn’t enough to satisfy his troubled thoughts.

“You still admitted political subterfuge, even if this is an admittedly minor instance of it. How can we guarantee you haven’t done it in the past, or won’t do it again?” asked Licht.

“You have my word that I have not nor shall I ever plot such an endeavor again without the knowledge and approval of the eight,” said Chevalier.

That should have sufficed, but Licht shook his head. “I’ll need some collateral to prove your sincerity.”

Chevalier narrowed his eyes. “What do you require?”

“Half your remaining carrots,” he said. “And tell me why you did it.” Maron perked up and licked his lips greedily while White Horse snorted and rushed beside Chevalier.

“White Horse says one-fourth and no more,” said Chevalier.

“Half,” Licht demanded. “Yves never would have put the double order if he wasn’t so intent on baking the carrot cake for me.”

Chevalier and White Horse stared intently at each other. You may have guessed correctly that these two make up another human-horse bonded pair, but unlike Licht and Maron, they mainly communicated through staring contests to determine the other’s thoughts and feelings. To the onlooker it is a curious sight, and Licht and Maron watched the pair mentally debate like statues for several awkward minutes until at last they broke apart.

“Agreed. But tonight you must vacate this stall and share your grooming tools,” said Chevalier.

“Fine, you can use them after we finish our routine,” said Licht, and the princes set out dividing the carrots equally among themselves and leading their respective horses into opposite stalls. Maron happily gobbled up his share before Licht could finish setting his tools up again in the new stall, and White Horse solemnly poked his head out of the window as Chevalier passed him carrots at regular intervals. A complacent tranquility settled in as the sounds of horse munching, hair brushing, and the late night summer breeze whooshed through the stables, calming its occupants and warming their hearts. While these two princes were inclined to introversion, the silent acknowledgement of horse care they shared bonded them on that night closer than they ever knew in the past.

Once the grooming session was completed, Maron shook his head satisfied as Licht patted his neck. Licht packed his tools neatly in their kit and crossed over to the other stall, ready to hear Chevalier’s story, when he saw his brother holding two long strips of ribbon, one bright yellow and the other bright blue, up to White Horse’s pearly mane.

“They’d both look nice on him,” Licht said as he entered the stall. He extracted a fine brush from the kit and began working out the knots in White Horse’s mane.

Chevalier watched intently, holding the ribbons closer so Licht could see. “But which will look nicer?” he asked.

Another ripple of warmth began to swell in Licht's cheeks, but a breeze hadn’t blown in a while. Did Chevalier actually value Licht’s opinion?

“Well, maybe the blue will look better in the daytime and the yellow at night,” Licht replied. Chevalier hmmed and took the ribbons back, tying them into different intricately shaped bows on his fingers. No doubt Yves would find them charming, and a small smile involuntarily crept onto Licht’s face as he pictured the three of them dressing up White Horse in tiny bows. 

What a ridiculous idea! As if Chevalier would ever agree to that! But still, even though Licht always spent time in the stables alone, the thought of inviting others once in a while wasn’t too indigestible. Is this what it was like to share hobbies? Could this be how Licht could cure his—as Chevalier called it—seclusiveness? They could have been friends all along?

The moment seemed right. He decided to shoot his shot. “Yves has lots more ribbon. And lace, too. Maybe we could all make bows for Maron and White Horse someday?”

“Perhaps,” said Chevalier, all ten of his fingers now bound by bows. “Tell me, do you think White Horse is attractive?”

Or maybe they were never meant to be friends after all.

“Er—” Licht stumbled. “He’s a healthy and well-kept stallion. I could ask for nothing more from him.”

“Not to you. A female.”

“Uhm… You could probably ask Nokto to grab a maid’s opinion?”

Chevalier clenched his fists, crushing the tiny bows. “A female horse,” he hissed.

“Oh!” Licht accidentally pulled too hard on a knot. White Horse turned to him and snorted sharply, dousing his face in chewed-up carrot. Yes, that tranquil moment had definitely passed.

Licht quickly unbuttoned his coat and wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. The very next morning, that shirt would be burning in the back of his fireplace. 

“Is White Horse trying to impress a mare?” he asked in an attempt to salvage the conversation. 

“We only agreed I reveal my intention for the carrot theft,” said Chevalier.

“Political subterfuge,” Licht corrected.

“Shall I send you to dreamland instead?” said Chevalier.

“I’ll be sure to ask for the story in the morning then,” said Licht.

Chevalier leaned against the wall and began undoing the bows as he spoke. “Do not interrupt. It began on a trip west last fall. Clavis and I were inspecting numerous citadels along the border, and as luck would have it I received word that the newest volume of a series I was following was set to release the day before our scheduled return to the palace.”

Licht swapped his brush for a flat bristled one and started on White Horse’s neck as he listened. He recalled Chevalier’s trip very clearly. Clavis had made a point to leave behind a timed-trap in his absence. On the morning of the twins’ birthday, hundreds of colorful paper airplanes were released in the roundtable room, each bearing a handwritten message like: “Thinking of you from so far away!” and “Big brother will bring home a bigger gift, just you wait!” and “Say your prayers, Sariel!” Licht occasionally still felt the ghosts of those paper cuts stinging his skin.

Unfazed by Licht’s cringing expression, Chevalier continued. “Despite Clavis’s bemoaning protests, we managed to reach the final location of our tour and complete the inspection with time to spare, albeit at the sacrifice of several nights’ rest. Our fool of a brother was at his wit’s end, but aside from his sanity we arrived back in town with zero casualties. He agreed to retrieve the book before returning to the palace as an excuse to finally be out of my sight, so he broke off from our party as we rode up. And seeing as White Horse knows the way to the gates I saw no imminent danger requiring my remaining alert and allowed myself to rest my eyes.”

Licht tried to remember the exact day of their return and if anything remarkable occurred, but his mind kept coming up with blanks. (He wasn’t allowed to interrupt, but the narrator can. Chevalier said he fell asleep.)

Chevalier finished removing the yellow ribbon from his fingers and crumpled it in his fist. “While resting my eyes, I could still sense the passage of time, and after an appropriate amount of time until when I knew we should have reached the palace had passed I opened them again but found we were in an unfamiliar area I had never visited before. We were near the outskirts of town where the cattle graze. Seventeen houses in total, each unremarkable in size and structure, yet White Horse perched at the fence of the red brick house watching a jet black mare race across the yard. Never before had I seen him so fixated on one task, even when we are in battle. I called his name and pulled his reins but he completely ignored me. I was about alight from his back to admonish him when the woman of the household spotted us from her window, and she let out a piercing scream that would have woken the entire town had it been dark. It was enough to startle White Horse, at any rate. More than seeing you tonight.”

At this, Licht instantly remembered the day. Everyone at the palace heard the scream, and the subsequent chill emanating from Clavis’s smile when he suggested Licht join him to wait by the gates could only be bested by Chevalier’s cold stare. Never before nor since was Licht so grateful for it to be his turn to clean the domestic faction office than on that day. Maron remembered the day because it was the only time Chevalier returned wearing robes stained not in red, but brown. And Chevalier remembered the day because there did not yet exist enough scientific literature in Rhodolite on lobotomy.

Recounting is all well and good, but White Horse preferred matters tending to the future. And while he was used to his master and his soft-spoken brother’s tendencies towards silence, this silence stretching on in their conversation soon bored the stallion. When at last it became too much to bear, White Horse sucked in breath through his teeth, pressed his nose against Chevalier’s head, and released a mighty sneeze that nearly shook the princes off balance. From across the hall, Maron whinnied at White Horse in disapproval, and Licht quickly steadied himself then began patting the horse’s white neck. This served two purposes: calming White Horse’s fury, and giving Licht an excuse to turn away as Chevalier picked globules of horse mucus out of his hair.

It seemed acceptable for Licht to speak now. “So White Horse likes Verona?”

“Who?” Chevalier raked the last of the snot out with the blue ribbon and tossed it onto the remains of the ripped bag.

“The mare. That’s her name,” said Licht.

“Don’t be ridiculous, they have never once interacted for White Horse to develop any feelings of ‘liking’.”

“Fine. He fancies her.”

“Such a useless emotion. Enough of it to lose his head at the screams of her owner,” scoffed Chevalier.

“He’s alright though, isn’t he?” said Licht.

“Only because I had the sense to steady us in time,” said Chevalier. What he conveniently neglected to mention was how after steadying White Horse, the woman raced out of the house waving a broomstick in the air because she didn’t recognize the Second Prince and assumed he was there to horsenap Verona. Before Chevalier could diffuse the situation, White Horse jumped at her advance and fell backwards, landing both himself and his rider in a puddle of mud. Prince Clavis was the only person standing at the gates to witness their soiled return, and he keeps the memory fresh in his mind for days when he feels blue. But there was no reason for Licht to know about it, so Chevalier said, “I have upheld my end of the deal. Pass me a brush.”

“But you didn’t explain the carrots,” said Licht. 

“Do not ask for a story if you are too bleary-eyed to follow along,” said Chevalier. He swiped the brush out of Licht’s hand and began grooming White Horse’s other side. White Horse neighed softly and went back to staring longingly out of the window. 

Rays of false dawn shone from the horizon, layering the first brush stroke of saturation on town. Licht followed White Horse’s gaze out the window towards the pasty colors of the pasture in the distance, just as the signs of a red house came into view.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion truly catching up to him, but Licht didn’t notice Maron trotting up to him until he felt his warm muzzle pressed against the small of his back. Even without facing him, he knew what Maron wanted to say.

“Maron’s friends with Verona,” said Licht. “We visit the horses there every month for a stretch. We could introduce White Horse next time we go, if you want.”

Perhaps the exhaustion caught up to Chevalier as well, because the small part of him that planned to find Licht in the stables tonight tingled with vindication. “What do you require?” he asked.

“I don’t need anything,” said Licht.

“And I do not desire to remain in your debt. Name your price,” said Chevalier.

It is a curious state to find oneself able to demand anything from Prince Chevalier. I can think of several princes who would jump at the opportunity and ask from him all manner of favors. But Licht was a simple secluded sword master equine enthusiast who when asked what he wanted most in the world would probably reply with the most seemingly mundane thing. And yet, it would still make him smile.

“Help me get rid of this cough. That way I can help disrupt the carrot supply chain next time.”

I once wrote a fic in the past when I thought Maron was a mare. If anyone else mistakenly thought he was a lady horse because of that fic, I take full responsibility, that's my bad.

With this fic I tried out a new narrative style. It was out of my comfort zone, but a fun experiment. If anyone has any constructive feedback about it (positive or negative, I want to learn) feel free to leave a comment or an ask. Did it engage you more in the story, did it slow it down, did it make you laugh, did it bore you... whatever you feel like sharing :) Otherwise, thanks for reading.

[otomefoxystar]

Blizzard

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Pairing : Licht X MC

Genre : Angst with fluff

TW : Mentions of blood .

Author Notes: Sorry this came out so long I went with the idea and couldn’t stop.

Sariel was particularly hard on _ _ _. Everything she did was wrong; everything she said was unbecoming of Belle. He made her repeat after repeat until she got it right with not so much as a break. She finally had enough. She had taken his verbal abuse for far too long. She threw up her hands, “I’m done! Screw this and screw you!” His eyes widened. “Wait-“He tried going after her, but she had already slammed the door shut. She huffed as she hastily walked down the hallway, stopping momentarily to get her winter cloak, feeling like she was suffocating in the castle. She had to leave, had to get outside.

Sariel chased after her but stopped when he saw Leon watching the interaction from down the hall. She walked briskly, trying to escape the castle as quickly as possible. When she passed each of the princes without so much as a smile, practically running, they looked confused. Nokto yelled out to her.

“Stop! It’s snowing.” She blatantly ignored him and kept going forward, opening the heavy castle door. The princes all gathered together to see what was conspiring. They watched her leave the castle and enter the bitter, snowy cold. Clavis stepped next to Nokto, “What just happened?” Leon stepped forward, “Something happened between her and Sariel. She was yelling and slammed the door, then stormed off.” Yves looked out the window, “I’m sure she’ll return when she gets too cold.”

They all went about their business as if it were a typical day, fully expecting her to come back soon in a better mood and hungry for a hot meal. No one thought the worst would happen. That wasn’t until Nokto heard the wind whistling out his window. He looked outside to see a full-blown blizzard coming down. He got up to look outside, seeing that a considerable amount of snow had fallen since _ _ _ left. He wondered if she had come back yet. She hadn’t come to bug him yet. He began looking around the castle. As time passed and he couldn’t find her, he started to panic, asking everyone he saw if they had seen her, receiving ‘no’ every time.

Licht was walking down the hallway, ready to meet Yves for their daily tea. When he saw his twin frantically searching every room as if he had lost Something important. “Nokto,” Licht said, trying to get his brother’s attention. Nokto turned his head upon hearing his name. “Licht! Have you seen _ _ _?!” Licht was curious why it was so crucial that Nokto wanted to find her. “No. Why do you need her?” Nokto’s shoulders slumped, “She was upset and left; it’s been hours.”

Licht didn’t want everyone to panic if there was no need. “Left, where?” Nokto slumped his shoulders. “outside,” Licht looked out the window in the hallway. “You let her leave in these conditions? You didn’t think to go after her ?” Nokto shook his head, “It wasn’t this bad when she left.” Licht dragged his hand over his face in frustration. He glanced outside again. Watching the blizzard made his stomach sink with worry.

He walked forward without so much as a single word to Nokto, “Licht, where are you going?” Licht returned to his bedroom, grabbing winter gear as if he were going on a mission. “I’m going to find her.” Nokto watched Licht prepare to face the storm. “What? How will you find her when you can’t see in front of you?” As Licht pulled his glove over his hand, “I have to try.” Nokto knew his twin had a bleeding heart. He knew his kindness could sometimes be his weakness, but this wasn’t just kindness. It was desperation.

Nokto saw the way _ _ _ was able to make Licht’s eyes smile, how the darkness that loomed over his twin started to fade, showing him a glimmer of light when she was near him. Nokto saw how Licht looked at her, even if he claimed repeatedly that he hated her and wanted her to never speak to him again. It was clear to Nokto that Licht held affections for her that he wasn’t aware of himself.

To go after her, though? To face Mother Nature herself as the wind howled and the snow fell, blinding whoever dared to face her wrath. “No, you can’t. It’s bad enough she’s out there, but for you to go after her? That’s madness. You’ll never find her. Then you’ll both be lost. It’s best to pray she found shelter and wait out the storm.” As Licht pulled up the hood on his cloak, he looked into Nokto’s eyes, his eyes. “Don’t forget what I am capable of. I will bring us both back alive. Have faith, Nokto.” Nokto put his hand on Licht’s shoulder; Licht put his hand on Nokto’s shoulder in a silent promise and nodded. Licht walked to the door with determination, with Nokto following behind him.

Licht opened the castle door, looking at the raging storm before him. Nokto ran behind Licht, holding the door as he took a long look at Licht. Licht nodded confidently, trying to reassure his brother that he would be okay. Nokto shut the door, fighting against the wind. Jin, Yves, and Clavis had seen the exchange between the twins. “She never came back?” Clavis asked, “And he’s going after her?!” Yves responded. Nokto looked out the window, watching Licht hold his hood as he walked into the distance. “Yeah,” Nokto said quietly.

Licht forced his body forward, fighting against the wind and snow and occasionally having to turn his head, feeling like the wind was suffocating him. Any trace of footprints _ _ _ had left behind had already been covered with inches of new snow. His ankles sank into the snow, it hitting just below his shins. Unable to walk normally because of the snow and the pressure from the wind, instead having to pick his foot up with each step he took. He tried to focus through the snow but could hardly see anything in front of him.

When was the last time it snowed like this? It had been years. At first, Licht yelled her name, but soon, he realized she probably wouldn’t be able to hear him over the whistling of the wind. He decided to save his breath and look for any place where she could have gone. Licht walked for what felt like miles upon miles until he looked to his right, seeing what looked like torn fabric stuck between some branches. Licht pushed against the wind with wide steps as he took the material out of the tree, holding it with both gloved hands, trying to study it without it blowing away.

He recognized the fabric; it was the same color as her cloak. “Where are you?” He asked out loud as he looked in the distance. He saw a cavern in the mountain wall. He inhaled deeply, preparing to face the strong winds. Ducking down, Licht entered the cavern, which led into an open area. He saw a slumped figure leaning against a wall. “ _ _ _?” He hoped it was her, but there was such minimal light that he couldn’t make out the features of the figure. “It’s okay, it’s Licht.”

“Licht?” Didn’t he just tell her it was him? “Yes, it’s me.” He kneeled next to her, taking her face in his gloved hands. “Are you okay, _ _ _? Are you hurt?” She looked into his crimson eyes in what little light they had. “My leg.” He sat back on his feet. “Let me see.” She stretched her leg out with a pained hiss. He took his gloves off and inspected her leg. Her calf was smeared with blood, with a deep gash. She made a makeshift tourniquet out of ripped material to stop the bleeding. At least she wasn’t completely clueless. “You really messed your leg up pretty good.” We need to get you back to the castle.” She snickered, finding humor in his words. “How would you like to do that? I can hardly walk, and I don’t think this storm will let up anytime soon. We’ll probably starve to death in here.”

He gave her a condescending look. “We aren’t going to starve because I’m going to get us out of here.” He brushed her bangs out of her face. When his fingers touched her forehead, her skin seared his fingertips, feeling like she had been sitting near a fire. Worry filled his eyes, and he put his hand on her head. “You’re burning up. I’ve got to get you back.” She shook her head. “How?” He brushed her tangled hair behind her ear. “We’re going to walk.” He teased. “Stop it, Licht. I’m serious.” His hand lingered on her ear. “I am, too. Your leg is infected. I have to get you back as soon as possible.” She nodded, realizing the severity of her condition.

He put his hat on her head, but she refused to use his gloves. He needed Something to keep the warmth in. “hold on to me tight the whole time.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she took hold of his arm as they braced themselves to go out into the blizzard. She hobbled along, letting Licht lead the way. They trekked through the deep snow with barely any visibility as day began to turn to night. She clung to him but fell just as the castle came into view. “_ _ _!” He gathered her in his arms, holding her legs over his arms and cradling her as they sat in the snow. She looked at Licht, placing her hand on his cheek; she gave him a weak smile and closed her eyes again. “S-stay awake; don’t you dare fall asleep.” His ruby eyes were locked on hers. For the first time in a really long time, he felt fear; it flowed through him, sending his heart into a frenzy.

She grabbed his hand, and he squeezed hers. She spoke with the little strength she had left in her weak body, “I’m tired.” he drew his brows together. “Fight it! Do not go to sleep. We’re almost there. You wouldn’t give up on me, and I won’t give up on you!” With renewed determination, Licht stood up and adjusted his grip on her, ensuring he held her securely. He started running as best he could in the deep snow. Adrenaline rushing through his veins, Licht kept going, kept moving forward. He was tired, but he wouldn’t let himself stop until he got her inside. Finally, Licht could barely see the castle and ran as well as was possible in the deep snow. He pushed against the wind harder, making his heart pump harder.

Jin was passing by the window when he saw Licht in the darkness holding _ _ _ in his arms and fighting against the impossible forces of the wind and snow. “open the door! “Licht yelled, hoping someone heard him. “Open the door!” He yelled again. Jin rushed to the door and pulled it open wide. Licht didn’t stop running until he got inside, falling to the floor with her still in his arms. Licht was on his back, holding _ _ _ tightly.

He was panting and gasping for breath; everyone looked at him. Licht looked down at _ _ _, noticing she was unconscious in his arms. “S-she n-needs the doctor.” Luke went to Licht without a second thought and took her out of his arms. Exhausted, Litch’s head fell onto the hard floor as relief washed over him. His adrenaline started dissipating.

As Luke carried her upstairs, Licht’s breathing started normalizing; Leon hoisted him to his feet. Jin and Leon accompanied Licht to her room, where the doctor tended to her wound. The doctor poured some antiseptic into her wound as he talked out loud. “it’s a good thing you’re unconscious. Otherwise, this would really hurt.” Sariel joined them, and Leon glared at him. Deciding it was best not to make a scene, he kept quiet. The doctor began stitching her wound. As he finished, he washed his hands, then proceeded with the rest of the exam, seeing if she were wounded elsewhere.

“She’s okay now?” Leon asked. The doctor turned to look at his audience. “She’s far from okay right now; we’ll have to wait it out. I’ll come check on her later.” The doctor covered her up and packed away his tools. Leon turned to Sariel, crossing his arms. “What happened between you to upset her so much to make her storm out?” Sariel looked at her, and Nokto walked in, hearing the commotion. “I may have been a bit hard on her today.” Nokto stepped in. “She is a woman, Sariel, not one of us. She is not training to go to war. She is picking the next king! When she wakes up, you better apologize to her.” Nokto squeezed Litch’s wrist before he walked away. Leon looked over to Litch. “You need to take care of yourself, put on some dry clothes, and get Something warm to eat. Litch looked at her sleeping form. “I’ll watch over her,” Leon said as he moved a reading chair beside her bed.

Litch could leave knowing Leon would be there if she woke up. With clean clothes and a full stomach feeling sufficiently warmed, he walked back to her room. Leon was sitting in his chair, looking over papers. “She hasn’t woken up yet?” Leon looked up at Litch and shook his head with a frown. Litch walked into the room and saw her sleeping. Leon got up, “I’ve got some work to do. If you need me, you can come get me.” He left the room, heading towards the office, using the excuse to give Litch the privacy he needed.

Licht sat in the chair Leon had been sitting in not long ago. He put his elbows on his knees and folded his hands, leaning his forehead on his hands. Moments later, Licht looked up, feeling antsy. He shifted, sitting up, noticing how flushed her cheeks were from the fever. With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, Licht stood up and walked over to the window, seeing the ragging blizzard in the darkness of the night.

Licht was thankful he found her when he did. Who knows what could’ve happened if they were out there now. He didn’t like this feeling; he had been in wars, but Licht had never felt as powerless as he did now. This was a different kind of war, one he didn’t know how to fight. He couldn’t push through enemy lines with brute force like he could during combat. All he could do was wait for her to wake up. Not knowing what to do with himself, he sat back in the chair beside her.

Licht always thought that one day, he would lose his life, and he would accept it willingly, for he was a sinner. He deserved whatever death he was given, but as he was sitting here thinking of what it would be like if she lost her life. The thought alone made panic rise up; It would be too late to admit to himself what he knew was in his heart.

She was this radiant light that shone so bright it was almost blinding. At first, she drove him crazy; Licht just wanted to be left alone, but as he spent more time with her, things changed, and he wanted to see that smile. He looked forward to seeing her, even if she annoyed him to no end. As he gazed back at her, he noticed her shivering and beads of sweat forming on her brow. Licht left the room and quickly returned with a cloth and an extra blanket. Licht covered her up with the blanket, then sat on the edge of the bed, dabbing at her brow wiping the sweat away. Nokto quietly opened the door.

“How curious.” Licht put the cloth on the bedside table and stood from the bed. “What?” Nokto didn’t answer, “You need to go rest. I’ll watch over her.” Licht put his hands in his pockets, “It’s okay, I’m fine.” Nokto sighed. “I told Leon you wouldn’t listen.” Nokto looked into the eyes of Licht, the eyes that matched his own. “You aren’t fine. You need to rest. What good is it going to do her if you also get sick? Nothing is going to happen.” Licht sighed, knowing that Nokto was just as stubborn as he was. Nokto could see that Licht didn’t want to leave her. “This is my fault.” Nokto said, “I could have stopped her when she passed me. I knew she was headed for the door. I warned her of the snow, but she was determined to get out. I could have done more. Let me make it up to both of you by watching her while you nap.” Finally, Licht relented, “If anything happens -“Nokto finishes his sentence. “I’ll come get you.” Nokto put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “She’ll be okay; the doctor gave her some pretty strong pain medication. She’ll be asleep for a while. I’m going to do some paperwork.” Licht sighs and takes a long look at her. “It’s not your fault, Nokto,” Licht said as he reached for the doorknob.

Licht closes the door as quietly as possible and walks to his room. As soon as he settled under the covers, he felt the exhaustion seep into his bones. Licht had been so concerned about _ _ _ that he hadn’t realized how tired he was. Letting his body relax, sleep finally took him.

“Truding through the snow, Licht comes across the cave, but _ _ _ isn’t in there. He calls her name over and over again, but the howling wind is too loud. Walking further and further into the forest. He can’t find her anywhere. Somehow, he’s back where he started. Was he going in circles? Licht’s head was spinning. When he looked up, he saw the sky darken, and the snow blew harder. How would he ever find her now? Licht woke up suddenly.

He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his pounding heart. It was just a dream. _ _ _ was in her room sleeping. Once he felt calm, he put his boots back on and walked over to her room. He opened the door to see Nokto working at her desk as she slept soundly. “Nokto” Licht calls his name. “Oh, you’re back. Did you sleep?” Nokto asks, “Yes,” Licht replies nonchalantly. “She slept the whole time; nothing happened. But,”

Licht looks at his brother, now having his attention after saying ‘but.’ “She’s been coughing a lot.” Nokto began to gather up everything he was working on. “I’ll leave you be then.” Nokto grabbed the doorknob. “Nokto,” he said. He looked at Licht expectantly. “Thank you.” Nokto turned his head down in a single nod. “Yeah, it’s the least I could do.” As Nokto left, he shut the door behind him, and Licht sat in the plush chair again. He looked at her and noticed how ragged her breathing was. “You’re really sick, I hope you know that. I need you to get better because everyone is worried…I am worried.” Licht spoke to her as she slept. She turned toward him with a groan. _ _ _ whined and moved uncomfortably. “_ _ _,” Licht said her name, but she was fighting waking up. She began coughing, and Licht grew more concerned.

“ungh” she was in pain, he could see it on her face as she squeezed her eyes shut tight. Finally, after struggling a fair amount, she opened her eyes to find Licht sitting in the reading chair beside her bed. “Licht?” She said in a hoarse voice, “He squeezed her hand, and she winced. “You’re in pain. I’m going to get the doctor; I’ll be back.” He said as he gave her hand another squeeze. If her leg wasn’t pulsing with pain, and if it didn’t feel like there was a ton of bricks on her chest. She could probably go back to sleep, but the pain was too much for her to sleep. As the doctor entered the room, he shut the door, ensuring their privacy.

“You’re awake but don’t look like you’re quite with us. Are you still groggy?” She swallowed, “Yes.” Her voice sounded off, heavy from sleep and hoarse from being sick. “Your fever is pretty high, and Licht here tells me you’re coughing a fair amount, so I’d like to have a listen to your lungs. The doctor helped her sit up and pressed the stethoscope against her back, asking for her to take deep breaths. “pneumonia for certain.“ Licht remained silent as the doctor went through his examination, “Now, let’s see your leg.” The doctor gently uncovered it, exposing her leg to Licht. There was blood stained on the dressing wrapped around her calf.

“I’m going to change the dressing on this. The doctor unwrapped the dressing from her calf carefully, cleaned up the wound careful to not snag any of the stitches, and wrapped it back up with a clean dressing. The doctor looked down at her through his glasses. “You are very sick young lady. You need lots of rest and to stay off that leg as much as possible.” He eyed her, seeing her wince every time she shifted her position. “I’ll bring you some more pain medicine.” After the doctor gave her the medicine, he left, shutting the door.

_ _ _ looked at Licht. “Will you sit with me?” His lip lifted slightly at her simple request. “You don’t have to guard me, Licht; you can go after I fall asleep.” She took hold of his hand weakly. “Do you see my sword? I was not guarding you. I was waiting for you to wake up.” Without thinking, he entwined his fingers with hers. The act was so innocent, yet intimate. “I was worried. I thought I might lose you. The thought was paralyzing, and I couldn’t do anything to help except wait for you to wake up. I’ve never been so scared of losing someone.” He sighed, but she listened quietly. “I know I’m a sinner, and I don’t deserve your love, but I want it anyway.”

She squeezed his hand weakly, “You deserve it every bit as much as I do… I was scared. I was in that cave, bleeding, and it was so cold. I thought I was going to die in there. You were the one thing I kept thinking about, and then, like magic, you showed up.” She took in a ragged breath and coughed. “You brought me back, thank you, Licht. You saved my life.” He looked at her and the state she was in, and yet she was thanking him. “He touched a hot cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear. His face had come close to hers, and he kissed her forehead. “Will you accept my love and love me in return?” She gazed into his deep, ruby eyes. “You didn’t even need to ask. I already love you.”

He was surprised; how had he not seen that her affections were more than friendly? that she held a piece of him in her heart? “Then.” He looked at her lips and then back to her eyes. Her eyes fell shut, and his lips softly pressed against hers. He kissed her slowly and sensually as their mouths moved together. He put his hand on the back of her head as he kissed her, but Licht knew he had to stop. She was sick, but it felt so good to let everything he had been holding in melt away. She took hold of his hand and kissed him back with just as much ferocity as he was giving her. The door opened, and Yves came in with two hot meals and set them down on her desk.

“I brought you two some food -.” Yves looked at them as they pulled away from each other. “I see I’ve interrupted a special moment.” Licht pulled away, blushing. “Uh,” Yves put up a hand, “You don’t have to explain. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Just eat; that’s all I ask.” He left the room, shutting the door.

“That was terribly embarrassing; I’m sorry,” Licht said, but then he combed his fingers through her hair. “Your lips are hot.” She gave him a small smile. “I need to apologize to everyone.” His hand went from her hair to her hot cheek. “All you need to do is get bet. Let’s eat; you need your strength.”

After they ate, Licht took her plate, setting it down. He looked outside, seeing the dark sky; he looked over to her as she fought to stay awake. Licht went over to her. “Here,” He adjusted her pillows to make her more comfortable. “Sleep now; I’m going to take the dishes to the kitchen.” He kissed her forehead, and her eyes fluttered closed. His heart swelled as he looked at her before he left. It was unbelievable how much he could love another person, but he would never let her go after this. She was his, and he was hers; he had to fight to be better. She was his reason to live and to want to live. This was the beginning of his new life.

[xxsycamore]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐓𝐨𝐨

↬   🧡 Jin has been acting strange today. Before you can make a connection between all the strange things happening all day, he's got you head over heels for him once again.

Jin Grandet x f!Reader • rating: G • tags: Fluff; Established Relationship; Married Characters; Aged-Up Character(s)• wordcount: 1,111 • masterlist

For Cozytober 2023 by @randonauticrap . Prompt - No. 14: Lord Huron - The Night We Met Lyrics - "I had all and then most of you/Some and now none of you/Take me back to the night we met"

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MADAME L!!! Here too, I want to wish you a very happy birthday, may your day be filled with all things you love, and I'll help a little bit by offering you this humble gift... I hope you enjoy, our dear resident Jin lover 🥺❤❤❤

Jin has been acting strange today.

It was around noon when you began looking around for him, remembering the plans you two made for your day off. It's strange that he hasn't monopolized your time since the very second you opened your eyes in the morning... which made you all the more determined to be the first to find him and not the other way around.

Strangely, everyone you ask gives a different reply as to where they saw him last. Leon for one sounded very confident about seeing him in the training grounds - while Yves was sure he had stopped by the kitchen just a couple of minutes ago.

You stand helpless in front of the palace gardens, autumn leaves dancing in the air with a gust of wind, as if to highlight the lack of any presence in the vast open space stretching out ahead of you. You sigh, noting the position of the sun and how it's been following you in your quest to find your lover, rolling across the sky faster now that the days are getting shorter.

You reach the sitting area and a gasp comes out of your mouth as if you refuse to believe your eyes. There, on the pink settee, that's definitely Jin just casually lounging around...

"Did you get lost in the palace?"

Lost? In the place you've been living for so long now?

"You look as if you just saw a ghost. Come here... this was our meeting spot for today, did you forget?"

Oh.

"Maybe I did? I don't know. I'm a bit distracted these days."

Jin smiles sweetly at you, standing relaxed as you take a seat next to him. As soon as you're close enough, however, his demeanor changes as he almost pounces on you, stealing your breath as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips.

You guess he missed you?

What you expected to end as soon as it began becomes deeper and fiercer, and even though you chuckle and pull away to ask him what's with him today, he doesn't let go. He just keeps on kissing you.

"I think I could spend my life with a girl like you."

Face burning red, you decide not to pay too much mind to the oddness of it and to enjoy his showcase of love instead.

It's evening when you get summoned to Leon's faction room. The fourth prince soothes your worries but still insists all of you wait for Jin before starting.

At last, Jin shows up. Takes out a lollipop. Banters with Yves. Tousless Yves' hair. Attempts to tickle Yves.

"Do we really have to do this part as well?!"

Huh?

Leon is quick to steal your attention with a well-timed cough before he addresses, at long last, the reason you're all gathered here. Apparently, it's something about an upcoming gathering with officials from abroad and it has to do with making a good first impression when it comes to introductions. You suggest Chevalier's faction should be the one working harder at these, but Leon only gives you an understanding look before asking Jin to introduce himself first.

"Jin Grandet. 34 years old, still in the prime of my youth. I'd say my best feature is those charming eyes of mine."

Before everyone can roll their eyes, and despite the fact that you feel the urge to do so yourself, you chime in: "Well, he's right."

Jin winks at you and continues.

"My hobbies are my wife, my wife, and my wife."

"You're the worst."

"You never shut up about your wife."

Noting the mood of the other princes based on these comments, Leon uncrosses his arms and calls it a night. Just like that. You thought he was way more tolerant and used to Jin's antics by now... and you also thought you'd be stuck here for much longer. But in the next second, you find yourself in the room alone with Jin who looks as if he has no intentions of getting up from the couch anytime soon.

He shifts the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue, the hard piece of candy clinking softly against the back of his front teeth.

"Sooo?" You ask, approaching him. "Are you going to tell me what all of this is about, already?"

"Why don't you take a seat?"

You spend a whole two seconds considering his offer before you sit down close enough to him that your knees are touching. The question still present in your eyes, you hold his gaze demandingly.

"I was thinking about you a lot lately."

"Jin, you always think about me-"

"And about the night we met. Well, the night I introduced myself to you."

All the pieces fall right into their places. That day, two years ago... you got lost in the palace, wandering off until you accidentally witnessed Jin kissing a woman in the garden, and...

When your mind goes to that place, your new, fresh memory of Jin kissing you breathless right there just earlier today domineers over the initial one.

And then when night fell, you now remember, you were right here in this very room, and...everything was just as it happened just now.

"You...recreated that day? But why?"

"Because I hate myself for giving you a bad first impression like that. I was such a fool. I had no idea how special you're going to become to me and... I don't want you to look back at those memories and remember me by all those awful things. And I wish I could rewrite much more than that first day. But unfortunately, I can't."

You take hold of Jin's face, suppressing the urge to seal his lips with your own so he doesn't say another word. Emotion rushes through you, and you lay your forehead against his shoulder instead.

"Jin, I could never trade our first memories together for anything. You know why? Because they're the proof of the long path we walked towards here."

Jin is at a loss for words, evident by the way he freezes and only after a few silent moments does he shift a little so he can stroke your back. When that ceases being enough to communicate how touched he is, he gently guides you to look him in the eye again.

"I love you more than anything. I love you so damn much."

You chuckle, rubbing your thumb across his chin as you get closer.

"Do you remember your next line?"

"No, I don't."

"If you keep staring at me like that, you're gonna make me think the feeling is mutual."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[aquagirl1978]

Light - Licht Klein x Reader

A/N: Happy Birthday, Licht!

Pairing: Licht Klein x Reader (Licht POV)

Prompt: 4th Birthday Card

Word Count: 418

Tags: pure, sweet fluff

Light poured in through the windows, bright rays of sunshine that warmed my face, gently inviting me to wake up. I wasn’t the only one woken by the sun; when my eyelids fluttered open and I turned over on my side, I found you already awake, gazing lovingly at me.

“Good morning, Licht.” Your soft voice slurred with sleep as you spoke, your hand reaching out to find mine. Clasping our hands together, you squeezed my hand gently, a sweet reminder that you were here. That you were real. 

That this was real.

We smiled at one another; yours was soft and sweet, mine wistful. For I had to get ready for training my troops early that morning. 

“I have to be at training soon, but I should be done early in the afternoon. Meet up for lunch?”

Wriggling, you pushed your body up close against mine, your face tilting up towards mine, just waiting to be kissed. Cupping your cheeks in the palms of my hands, 

I let out a sad sigh as I threw the covers off my body; better to just get up and start the day and get it over with so I can come back and spend the rest of my day with you. Rolling out of bed, I began to get dressed and put on my pants. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I threw on my dress shirt and was about to start buttoning it.

“Let me help you.” Your voice called out to me, sweet like a bird’s song on an early morning. Your smile bright, you sat up in the bed and crawled over to me. 

“Hey!” You threw your arms around my neck, catching me off guard. I found myself laughing, enjoying your boundless energy, your body warm against my back as you placed a kiss on top of my head. Lifting my hand, my fingers curled around the  curve of your elbow. 

I found myself not wanting to leave the comforts of your embrace. There once was a time not all too long ago, where I threw myself into my training; I would go early and leave late, often not wanting to leave at all. Training served as a distraction from the noise of my thoughts. 

But the longer I spend time with you, the more you are replacing those old thoughts with new thoughts. Good thoughts. Happy thoughts. And I found myself, for the first time in forever, not wanting to go to training today.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu