#mage hand tickles

[thelavendersquid]

*The M9 trying to figure out if Halas is unconscious or faking*

Me, thinking: “Try tickling him.”

Jester, seconds later: “Try tickling him!”

Me: 👉😎👉

[pursuitseternal]

“Lend You a Hand”

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader | E | 1.6K

🎨 by @kowashites (full nsfw in ao3 link)

Summary: His Consort has been away all day, and Lord Astarion has plans for some fun to be had in public… and in the privacy of your skirts. One Mage Hand, one Vampire mating bond, and it’s going to be a long walk back to the Palace.

CW: Inappropriate use of Mage Hand, dirty talking you through it, orgasm control and delay, vaginal fingering, aka the DnD Vampire equivalent of a remote vibrator and a phone.

Inspired by OGY’s amazing NSFW audio “In Public, Darling?”

Ao3 link | Astarion Masterlist

It had been a long day of meetings and social calls, of new important and powerful people to influence and bribe. Astarion didn’t expect you back at the palace quite so soon, so a few drinks with a couple of your old companions back at the Elfsong shouldn’t be a problem… should it?

After an hour of hearing how the Selûnite encampment was progressing, how the once Blade of Frontiers had settled into rubbing elbows politically, you felt a ringing in your ears, a tingle up your spine, and a voice in your head.

“Not so desperate to return to me?” Astarion, purrs down your bond. “Not upset at me, are you?”

His laughter is warm and taunting. He’s up to something, you can tell just by that tone. “I was just about to leave…” you think back at him. Only to receive a tickle of laughter in your ear.

“Step outside,” he commands, “I have a surprise for you…”

You obey, knowing his games are always… satisfying. Well, teasing and merciless until they are oh, so satisfying. As you exit, you look around for that head of tousled curls and those glinting red eyes. Nothing.

“Not here, darling, somewhere less public, but not by much…” his voice seems to creep from the alleyway, sounding in your ear as if he’s around the corner. You follow, a suspicion flickers in your head, one that’s confirmed when you see the glowing blue Mage Hand beckoning you closer. It presses a single, tingling digit to your lips before wandering that ice cold touch down the lines of your dress.

“You’re so good at hiding your thoughts, your desires… Why don’t we play a game? I’d hate to think you’d been out having all sorts of fun without me…”

“What sort of game?” You smirk as you reply.

“Hmmm, I’m going to make you come before you get into the door. Doesn’t that sound delicious, darling? Just to remind you how desperately you need me, how desperately you depend on me…”

That Mage Hand instantly flies under your skirts, sliding up your thigh until it sinks two magic digits knuckle deep between your thighs.

You squirm; a groan, a gasp, a noise of pure desperation slips from your mouth.

“Ahh, there it is, one of my favorite noises, that little bit of a gasp. Don’t fret, darling. Start walking… keep it together, and get home to our palace, dear Consort…”

“You can be such a controlling prick, you know that?” You taunt him back as you start to walk, your legs splayed a little to make room for those magical fingers digging in your cunt.

“Isn’t that part of the fun? Part of the game?” He purrs his taunt in retaliation. “Just think of all the fun things I can do to you in public… in the privacy of your skirts…”

“Fun for you, perhaps,” you grunt back as he digs those remote fingers to stroke you in just that right spot, the one that makes your knees go wobbly.

“Oh darling, I’m hurt. I thought we had something special going on here. After all, I’m doing all the hard work. All you have to do is keep that polite smile on your face and walk.”

Your breathing is rapid, and even your pale cheeks are beginning to flush with excitement. With every step, you feel the thrusting and prodding and burrowing inside you. A short walk, you console yourself. So close, it’s just… a bit more as you head down the bustling street, a hair closer with every step to the Central Wall and then to the tower entrance.

But that’s when his thumb joins the myriad of sensations between your thighs. “Fuck,” you curse aloud, your knees buckling until you have to catch yourself on the wall beside you.

And then that purring voice tickles inside your ear again. “Desperate, pet? I do so love to hear when you’re desperate.” His presence fills your mind, even as those fingers thrust and crook, thrust and crook in time with your air. Except now, you stand stock still, just trying to catch your breath and not fall. “That’s it, darling, steady yourself, I wouldn’t want you to trip.”

Your thighs shake as that hand catches you just right, your fangs biting through your lower lip as you quake and fight with all your strength not to puddle your mess on the stone streets.

“Mmm, delicious, I can hear your breathing, feel your heart racing. Hells, you’re desperately close, aren’t you? You’re just outside Sorcerers’ Sundries, aren’t you? Tell me, do all those innocent mages think something is wrong with you?” His voice grows more excited, frenzied, as if the idea of you getting caught with his literal hand up your skirts is getting him hard… which it undoubtedly is.

You can taste blood, a welcome distraction from the constant movement in and out… in and out… “Damn you to the hells!” You curse, your hips rolling on what looks like nothing. Your secret pleasure source, those deft, dexterous fingers show no mercy as you go careening towards your peak.

“My lady,” the kind vendor nearest you offers gently. But you just round on them, baring your own set of teeth in agitation to scare them off.

Your ferocity is rewarded with a warm laugh in your ear and a perfect circle of that magic thumb over your clit. “I’m sure you’re quite a sight by now. How sweet of them to come to your aid… my damsel in distress. A pity I’m the only one who can save you…”

He pulls those fingers out entirely, and you keen into your palm, crying tears at the absence and burning denial.

“Walk, pet. Get to the gate before I continue…”

It’s a promise and a threat, all in one velvet, sugar-sweet phrase.

You focus, feeling that cool shimmer of magic hovering over your skin, just brushing your thighs as you force yourself, will yourself, to take one step… then another. You have to tell your brain, as lust-hazy as it is, to breathe, to move, to smile and look demure. Even if on the inside you’re raging, blistering hot with need. You can’t even weave two words to curse your love, to snap at him for how much you’re suffering at his hands with this little game.

Suffering… and loving it.

A few more steps, and you managed to climb your sorry ass and slick thighs up to the walls of your home…

“Good darling… good Consort,” his praises pour over you, soothing and stoking your desire afresh somehow all at once. You almost tumble up the stairs in your delirium, the rush of pleasure as those fingers sink their cool touch inside you makes you moan, caught off guard, loud enough to bounce off the stone walls of the tower.

A few quick, shallow movements and you’re near the brink again, so quickly.

“Sweetling, tears already?” His satin syllables caress your ear, only adding to the rush of heat and wet between your thighs. “You sound… frantic, desperate. Desperate enough to beg.” That wicked, rumbling chuckle races down your spine and tickles your brain. “Beg for it, my love, what do you want from me?” The Mage Hand slips out mid stride.

“Come! I want to come!” You scream aloud as you make it to the parapet, one hand on the door to the palace as that Mage Hand sweeps its thumb perfectly over your clit and those cool smooth fingers crook just right.

You can hear his laughter from the other side of the door, the wooden panes barely muffling that annoying, perverted, deep-chested giggle. You grit your teeth, pushing on your bond as you come undone, as your slick soaks those magic fingers and your belly clenches and spasms until you lose your breath.

It’s all you can do, to dig deep and force your feelings back at your love, the bastard that he is. A smile turns your panting, slack-jawed lips as you hear his own groan. That’s all the encouragement you need. You throw your debilitating lust and mind-numbing pleasure through your linked minds… and the gut rending thud of a fist against the door, the way the Mage Hand disappears as he loses concentration… the way you hear his breath ragged and voice rough as he comes too….

You grin, feeling your mutual pleasure and delight shimmering between you, it makes your walls throb and your mouth smile.

Just a twist of your wrist, and you open the door to see him, the great Lord… the Vampire Ascendant… with sweat on his face and a cheeky, annoyed grin as he hunches forward to catch his breath. One hand grips his own cock at the head, cum leaking between his fingers… The other rakes his silver curls back, a meager attempt to regain some semblance of control. “Well, here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed and her thighs just soaked for me,” he croons, content even as he smirks at you, breathless. “To bed, I think…”

You give a brazen smirk. “This time, I want your real fingers without the distractions of your little game in public…”

He laughs, his true lips whispering in your ear. “Oh well, I suppose, there’s fun to be had in private, darling.”

[littlejuicebox]

Naughty or Nice?

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x F!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: The first winter post-BG3 / You became Astarion's consort and you're at a ball... he likes to toy with you. Rating/Warnings: M+ / Smut / Spoilers for the game / Cursing / Improper use of mage hand / BSDM vibes / Dom Astarion vibes / teasing, masturbation, overstimulation, exhibitionism, mentions of flogging, etc. Word Count: 3K Notes: This is 3/5 "Days of Star-mas!"

Click here to see my master list.

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Yet another holiday ball, how dreadfully boring.

You sigh as you tug on your dress for the millionth time before a sharp pinch on your rear stuns you into stillness. You let out a soft hum as you feel the warm breath of your lover against your ear, tickling your neck before he playfully nips at your ear lobe.

“Now be a good girl and quit fidgeting, my treasure. I want everyone to see how beautiful and desirable you look in that dress, and your hands keep getting in the way of such a delectable view.” Astarion chides, running his fingers down your bare spine, leaving a tingle of excitement in their absence.

You’re sat, as always, on the Vampire Ascendent’s lap; it’s quickly become a well-known peculiarity of your coupling that your ornate throne beside him hardly sees any use. You wriggle as the elf continues to wander his pale fingers up and down your spinal column. Apart from your neck, your back was Astarion’s favorite part of your body to display. Almost every gown he dressed you in nowadays, as his perfect, beautiful little doll, left that sinewy form around your spine well-exposed.

Tonight, he’d dressed you in another one of his custom, ridiculously expensive and more ridiculously provocative pieces, commissioned by one of Baldur’s Gate’s most revered clothiers.

The gown was a deep burgundy, hand draped to your curves and covered in countless glimmering crystals. A deep sweetheart neckline was barely held up by two dainty, useless straps. The back of the gown left your muscled form on full display; the final bits of your lower spine were partially obscured by a crossed set of laces, tied neatly in a bow and not leaving anything to the imagination as the skirt of the dress clung to your hips.

The Vampire Ascendent had called you the “perfect present” for his Midwinter Ball, and you were expected to play the part of his perfect consort as he presented you to several of the Guilds this party hosted.

Astarion’s hand grazes up your leg, fully exposed to him by the thigh high slit cut into the gown. You writhe as your lover teases you, letting out the softest gasp as his hand just barely brushes under the slit of your gown before traveling back down toward your knee.

“My perfect little present,” He murmurs as the music from the band swells, “Take a turnabout the room for me, little love. Let everyone feast their eyes on your beauty and covet what is mine.”

You knew the Vampire Ascendent always aimed to use you as a status symbol at these silly parties. You were quite the spectacle as the renowned hero of Baldur’s Gate turned into his obedient, and always provocatively dressed, consort. It was such a stark change from the heavily armored warrior woman you had been less than a year ago. The statue in the town square, made to your likeness, truly looked nothing like you anymore. You had been a fearsome, rugged, warrior… always caked in dirt and blood; but now, you were a perfect doll, always pristine and well-kept.

You groan, not really wanting to partake in the charade tonight, but Astarion gives you a little tut, and the sharp warning look on his face was enough to force you out into the crowd. The Vampire Lord may have a soft spot for his consort, but he was not above punishing her, if need be.

You slink off your lover’s lap and saunter about the Great Hall, gold chalice in hand, politely nodding here and there to several of the guild members that meet your gaze. More of them, you notice, are too distracted by the high cut of your gown and the spilling of your cleavage to actually meet your eyes. Typical.

Soon enough your pathway is interrupted by the leader of one of the Mercantile Guilds, a tall blonde human woman with an accent, whose name you’ve all but forgotten. You truly had no interest in the elbow rubbing and political chess matches that occurred at these soirées.

“Lady Ancunin… I was hoping for a moment to speak with you.”

The woman begins to ramble on, promoting her Guild, which currently holds control over majority of the sea trade to and from Baldur’s Gate. She is expressing concern over a smaller, but growing, faction and asking for support from the Ancunin House. You find the entire thing unbelievably boring, and barely stifle a yawn.

Suddenly, you hear Astarion’s voice in your ear, and your attention shoots to the high table where the vampire is lounging in his throne, sipping from a chalice, his scarlet eyes locked on you. It’s clear the lady merchant is none the wiser as she babbles on, and you soon realize the Vampire Lord is communicating to you through your blood bond.

“Now, now, little love. Pay attention and look interested. You know as well as I do that Lady Beauchamp prefers to use you as the middle person in our dealings, hoping your supposed “mutual alignment” as the "fairer sex" works in her favor. Perhaps you require a bit more… stimulation to keep you from looking so terribly bored.”

His voice reverberates through your mind, enveloping your psyche in a lover’s caress that quickly causes you to become slick with desire. You watch Astarion subtly snap his fingers at the high table, and shudder as you feel the cold tracings of a finger along your spine — an invisible mage hand, no doubt. Your eyes widen and flicker from Lady Beauchamp and back to your lover, where he is smirking in twisted delight before he turns away from you to laugh at some comment made by another one of the nobles.

The tall guild leader continues, “So, as you can see, Lady Ancunin… this faction is cause for— are you alright?”

You’re trembling as you attempt to hold some level of control over your reactions. How could he toy with you like this? The invisible mage hand has now trailed underneath your gown and started petting your barren slit with two cold, invisible fingers. Damn Astarion for never allowing you to wear undergarments and compelling you to take them off every time you tried to preserve a modicum of your own dignity.

You cough, trying to cover up the gasp that so desperately wanted to escape your throat. “Y-yes Lady Beauchamp, my apologies, it’s a bit cold in here what with the winter air. Please do continue… w-what is it you’re asking of our House?”

Lady Beauchamp’s eyes flicker over your scant, silken gown and you catch a glimpse of judgement in her eyes; you know she thinks you improperly clothed for the season. But she’s wise enough to hold back any comments and instead continues on with her end of the conversation, pleading her case for aid to you.

You are held as a hostage to your own arousal, thighs trembling as you are held on an edge your lover will not allow you jump off of. You wring your hands on the stem of your goblet, nodding at the merchant woman and trying your hardest to feign interest.

Gods you were dripping. You absently wonder if the signs of your arousal were becoming visible through your gown. Your eyes flit back to Astarion, and his gaze is fixed on you once again, a cocky eyebrow raised as he traces the rim of his goblet with one slender finger. You’re silently pleading with the Vampire Ascendent for mercy with your wide eyes and all he does is chuckle and shake his head, eyes crinkling in dark delight.

No. There would be no mercy. You feel the slickness dripping down your thighs as the mage hand plunges into you and you roll your eyes up to the ceiling as you stifle a moan.

“So… what do you think?” Lady Beauchamp asks, her head tilted in confusion. You realized too late that she’d been waiting for your answer, and that the pause in conversation had become uncomfortable enough for her to prompt you.

You nod your head slightly, barely able to breathe as you form the next sentence. The mage hand was back to stroking between your folds, and as you barely catch the scent of your own arousal, you worry that Lady Beauchamp would soon smell you, too. “I-it is much to consider, but I will plead your case to Lord Ancunin. Now I apologize but if you’ll excuse me, my husband has beckoned for me at the high table.”

Astarion has, of course, done no such thing. But you swiftly exit the conversation with the Guild leader and head back towards the Vampire Ascendent.

When you finally make your way back to your lover, he grabs your trembling hand in his own solid, strong one. He possessively tugs you closer to him, and then the Vampire Lord plants a kiss to your knuckle. He smirks mischievously, eyebrow cocking as he flits his hungry eyes to your groin. The mage hand is still continuing its ministrations and has now started to lazily circle your sensitive little nub.

“I can smell you, my treasure… and see your little trembles as you try so hard to be a good girl and keep it together. Absolutely delicious. What a tempting little treat… look at you, with your cheeks all flushed.” He coos, scarlet eyes moving up to look into yours. When you meet his gaze, you see hints of dark, possessive desire in his eyes... and a bit of sadistic pleasure as he witnesses your suffering.

You moan as the mage hand plunges into you once more, and even though the high table is now barren as everyone else has swarmed to the dance floor, you feel the pricked heat of embarrassment spreading across your face.

Astarion chuckles and drops your hand before running his fingers up your exposed thigh. “I think you’ve been a good little pet tonight. And you will soon get your reward. Go to the bedchambers and wait for me... I’ll send the mage hand with you to keep you company, of course.”

All you can do is nod your head, before turning on your heels and swiftly exiting the ballroom. You nearly sprint to your bedchambers, certain now that the evidence of your arousal is seeping onto the gown. As you enter the bedroom, you move to rip your gown off, but the mage hand swats your hands away from the laces. It seemed the Vampire Lord wanted to be the one to unwrap his little present tonight.

For a moment you consider touching yourself, but as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you hear Astarion’s tut of disapproval within your psyche.

“Now, now, little vampling. Be a good girl and wait. Before I’m forced to have the mage hand bring out the flog."

You whine in desperation again and hear that dark chuckle within your mind. The mage hand is continuing its ministrations, now aggressively teasing your nipples as you settle yourself on the bed to wait for your lover. Your entire body is wracked with overwhelming desire, every inch of you trembling as the invisible hand continues its torture.

“How long will I have to wait?” You breathlessly ask to the air, but you know that Astarion is always listening. There is a beat of silence where you think perhaps the Vampire Lord is purposely ignoring you, but then he responds, clearly entertained by your little predicament.

“Oh… not much longer, my treasure. Patience is a virtue. I’ll see you at the end of the party.”

The party wasn’t set to end for another hour. You nearly scream in anguish as another dark chuckle caresses your mind. Pinpricks of frustrated tears begin to form as you wiggle with the mixture of anticipation and overstimulation. Gods you wanted to touch yourself so badly; you were wringing your hands together to avoid the temptation.

“Little love… it is up to you if you’re going to be naughty or nice. But you know what I will be forced to do, should you choose to be naughty.”

You whine again. An hour… you could withstand the torture for an hour, couldn’t you? Surely you could choose to be nice.

And hells, if you chose to be naughty… the pain was always worth the pleasure, in the end.

[thegnomelord]

Got an idea for prompt #20. Ghost, Price and male reader for monster au with reader wanting to try giving up control for once

Sure thing mate! I kinda got ahead of myself lol. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Trusting enough to give up control

CW: NSFW, Dom dragon Price, Switch wraith Ghost, Sub male mage Reader, Monster au, collars, blowjobs, Dom/Sub, praise kink.

You don't have a right to feel apprehensive; you suggested this after all, but your fingers tremble as you trace the leather inscribed with anti-magic runes. The collar should feel comfortable around your neck, you know because you touched the leather a thousand times before even humoring the idea of putting it on... but the idea of being without magic — completely defenseless — arouses and scares the shit out of you.

A blackened hand grips your jaw almost too tenderly, tilting your head up so you meet Simon's gaze. "Havin' second thoughts?" He presses closer to you until he's bullied his way between your legs with his knees spreading your own, boxers retaining all of your modesties for now.

You give a small sound, neither confirming nor denying. It earns you a weak slap to the inner thigh from Price's tail, his chest and your back fitting together like puzzle pieces. "There's no shame in backing out." He purrs, sharp talons gently massaging the sting out of your thigh while his tail curls around your shin. "But we need you to be vocal lad-" He takes the collar from your hand, "-do you want this?"

"Get on with it." You snap before you can chicken out, breathing in to calm your nerves. "...please."

The last word has Price rewarding you by groping your cock. "Good boy," Simon looks at him for permission, his lips sealing over yours to swallow your groan as soon as it's given. Your teeth click together, his kisses always so aggressive and demanding that you almost forget about the collar until you feel the cold buckle against your skin.

The effect is immediate; an unpleasant jolt rushes down your spine to flood every vertebrae with a bone gnawing cold, a heavy fog settling over a portion of your mind. The leather puts resistance on your throat as you breathe as if to mock you for your choice, reminding of how weak you are, how useless-

Price places a gentle kiss on your cheek, his beard tickling your skin and claws carding through your hair. "Color?"

Simon's hands grope your sides, the collar turning even the wraith's freezing hands blessedly warm. "Go on, use that pretty mind for us." He orders in a gruffer voice, his lips still close to yours.

"Green," You suck in a small breathe, goosebumps spreading across your skin. "Just cold."

Simon presses even closer to you, burning lips taking your breath away so he can nibble on your lip. "Can't have that, can we Captain?" He smirks, ignoring you to look at Price. "'specially when our boy's being so docile."

"'s that so?" You notice how Price keeps a possessive hand over your throat, one finger hooked underneath the collar. "D'you think you've earned a reward?" He asks, his other hand tracing down your front to play with the band of your boxers.

"Please." The word escapes your throat before your mind can even finish processing the question.

"Good boy," Prices loves the way you shiver, loves the sight of you so open and vulnerable just for them; he catches Simon licking his lips. "Go on then Simon," His hand slides beneath your boxers to push the band down until your cock springs out. "'m sure you're hungry." Just seeing your rock hard cock throb when he swipes his roughly scared thumb across the head has Price's own dick go hard.

"I'm not the only one." Simon rumbles and bites your collarbone, leaving a trail of dark hickeys and teeth imprints across your front until he's face to face with your aching cock. "Fuck, such an adorable thing." He growls against the meat of your thigh, biting you there just so he can see a drop of pre-cum bead atop your cock head. "Should keep a collar 'round your neck all the time so you can be pretty and pliant for us."

"Simon-" The width of his shoulders and Price's tail around your shin keeps you from closing your legs, embarrassment making your cheeks burn hot. "-you fucker," You growl and attempt to grab his hair so you can get his mouth where you need it.

You yelp when Price slaps your cock with his tail, pain and pleasure flaring up your spine. "None of that." Price growls, keeping a hand on your collar and pinning your hands to your stomach with the other. "Play nice-" His eyes shift to Simon's. "-both of you."

"Yes sir." Simon relents, grabbing a hold of your cock your eyes close as he licks from your base to the tip of your cock. A little squeeze of Price's hand has your eyes snapping open just in time to see Simon's monstrously long tongue loll out of his mouth, wrapping and stroking your shaft as he suckles your head, drool and your pre-cum staining his chin.

"Good boys." Price rumbles as your head falls back on his shoulder, barely able to keep your eyes open as Simon sucks you like a trained whore, leaving fingerprint bruises while he holds your hips down from bucking. "Simon feels good, doesn't he?" You nod your head, hissing when Simon suddenly swallows you down to the base; Wraiths don't need to breathe and Simon takes full advantage of that fact by swallowing around you, hot throat spasming and long tongue stroking the sensitive veins along your cock.

"Go on sweetheart." Price nibbles on your ear as you shake and try not to cum quickly like a teenager but it's a loosing battle, Simon's hot mouth and the dark look he gives as he stares at you has you tumbling towards orgasm faster than anything else. "No need to hold on." He lets go off your hands to push Simon's head even further down on your cock, until your tip's pocking the back of his throat.

Price's permission is all it takes, the building heat in your stomach spilling over the sides as you cum, your hips uselessly bucking against Simon's hold as you cum down his throat. Simon doesn't even choke, throat constricting and milking you for all you have, continuing to suckle until you grow soft in his mouth.

You're barely lucid when Simon finally pulls off, cum and drool bridging his lips with the tip of your cock, your body completely boneless but still able to twitch as Simon licks the residual cum from your oversensitive dick.

"Good boy." Price praises and you can feel his own hard cock poke into your ass. "I think he can go again, don't you, Simon?"

Simon smirks and raises to give you a sloppy kiss, your brain too melted into mush to care about the taste of your cum on his tongue. "Oh-" Simon's hand sneaks down to stroke your soft cock back to harness, ignoring your pitiful whining. "-I think he can."

[meownotgood]

let us live, if we must die. / chapter four: scarlet wings

You are a witch, and since the purging of all magic, you've been forced to live a life of solitude and secrecy. Your destiny was always beyond your control — until, by a pure twist of fate, you unknowingly fell for the kingdom's only prince. 

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pairing: prince!aki x witch!reader

word count: 14.6k

tags: fantasy au, royalty au, reader is fem, some very small mentions of violence, aki is getting better at flirting, way too many metaphors, two idiots who don't realize they're obvious being totally obvious

notes: this chapter is my favorite so far... I hope you'll enjoy it... thank you for your kindness and your patience as always! the next chapter may take a bit because I have some other writing plans for october, but I promise to return again soon :)

masterlist read on ao3 join the taglist here!

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soft sky, bleeding sun

I'll cradle your fear until

the clouds make it theirs

—

Growing up in the kingdom taught you to fear the color red.

Red was a staple of the seals worn by the knights and soldiers — the men you needed to be wary of, in order to survive. It symbolizes power, fear, violence. Red served as a reminder of the empire's scarlet, mage-seeking birds, of the crimson blood that would spill after every war, each brutal execution.

The same sort of bird rests in your palms now.

Kneeling, you sit in the center of a clearing, damp dirt and blades of grass tickling your bare knees, the forest's trees whispering in the faint, post-storm breeze. The air is cool and humid; it tickles the back of your neck, making the hair on your arms stand on end. The sky is obscured by a canopy of trees, and by knots of thick, dark clouds. Rain will fall again soon, most likely. You should head home. Yet, you can't seem to move. Your gaze won't tear itself away from the small, red-feathered bird you have held in both your palms.

A scarlet songbird. They're harmless, although quite rare to find in this area. Your books have told you they used to be much more prevalent, native to almost every area with the right weather conditions. Since the kingdom tamed them, they've mostly been captured — sometimes hunted. It's unlikely to find them in a place like this, departed from captivity. To the kingdom, the songbird's affinity for seeking out magical traces is too valuable to let roam free.

A particular book you read on local wildlife noted how the birds like to nab magical items to decorate their nests. They were trained to spot mages for the kingdom's benefit, to follow the traces left by spells and trail them to their source. Normally, they are timid, and try to avoid predators whenever possible. The kingdom turned them into hunters themselves.

Though, in this forest, they are finally free. From danger and captivity, from the kingdom's everlasting grasp. And so are you.

This one has seen better days. The bird's tiny body barely dwarfs one of your palms: a juvenile, most likely. It can't be more than a few months old. Most of its right wing appears to be damaged, with clusters of feathers missing, exposing a deep, fresh injury. Its breathing quickens, causing its body to shake. You brush your thumb over the bird's head, and it coos quietly in response, nuzzling further into your hand.

"What's up? Why are we stopping?"

Aki's voice rouses you from your thoughts, and you glance up to see him curiously peering over your shoulder, leaning down, his hands on his knees.

Aki reminds you of the color blue. Like the sparkle of royal sapphires, with the same sort of gleam reflected in his eyes. Like the colored sketches of the sea you've memorized from your books, and longed to one day see for yourself.

A handful of days ago, he brought you a bundle of bright blue peonies, which he found near the edge of the clearing surrounding your cottage. You placed some into a vase on the dining room table, and took the rest with you to have in your bedroom. Your eyes caught on their vibrant petals each and every time you entered. Since you first met and came to know Aki, you've never noticed so much blue. The blue of the sky, the blue of the river, the blue of butterfly wings and puffy flowers and shimmering stars.

Aki is blue; he's become synonymous with the word. With the blue of veins, instead of the ache that comes with flashes of bright, red blood.

You sigh slightly, glancing away from him, and back to the bird.

"Her wing is busted," You explain simply, clear frustration present in your voice, in the way your brows slightly pinch. "I doubt she'll be able to fly again."

Aki's eyes narrow. "A magehunter bird," He muses, "I didn't know you could find them this far out."

"There's plenty in the forest, they just like to keep themselves hidden," You reply with a shrug, your voice remaining soft and low, to avoid startling the small songbird. "I think they avoid the cottage, mostly. They don't like people."

Your words are a half-truth; before Aki, you'd often spot the birds gathering close to your home. Perching in the trees and sometimes on the roof, singing their little pleasant songs, or pecking at the mushrooms that encircle the clearing, just to flutter away when you got too close. With the addition of your new guest, and with the lack of spells you've been casting lately, they've been reluctant to continue hanging around.

The bird in your palms, however, is completely pliant. She doesn't even attempt to peck at your fingers or flap her injured wing. Her sharp breathing would lead you to believe she's still fearful, but she lacks the energy to fight or run, to do anything but timidly watch you, and hope you aren't a threat to a creature who is already dying.

It makes your heart ache, truly.

Aki examines the sudden strain in your expression. He hums in thought, and he kneels down to sit by your side; the bird shudders, drawing its wings close to its body. Almost as if it's trying to shrink away.

"You're fond of birds, aren't you?" Aki says calmly.

You huff a playful breath, and reply with a lilt of intrigued half-sarcasm, "How could you tell?"

"I kind of guessed, with all those wood sculptures," He answers, taking the question completely seriously. You think back to your living room, to the shelf of wooden birds you've hand-made, and although you're already pre-planning your rebuttal — it was just to pass the time, that's all — Aki seems to see right through you.

"I figured you liked animals, but birds were probably your favorite." He brushes a palm over the back of his neck awkwardly. His hair is up and out of his face, but his bangs still fall in front of his eyes as he tilts his head. "When I saw all those little sculptures, I thought it was… I don't know. Sort of cute."

His compliment makes you freeze up slightly, your face burning with warmth. You should be used to this, considering how open Aki has swiftly become, especially in the past few days. Still, as though it's simply effortless, he always manages to make you feel flustered.

A thin droplet of rain plops onto your arm. You shiver. The air carries the scent of a coming storm; it has your heart feeling heavy, reminding you of the day you first met him. It hasn't stormed like this since then. This time though, you won't have to return to your cottage alone.

Aki glances at you, then to the bird in your palms. "Should we take her with us?"

You know it's unlikely for the bird to survive, even if you brought it home and attempted to nurse it back to health. If it cannot fly, if it can't regain strength and let its wing heal, it'll be doomed.

And what about you? Unless the birds are trained to sniff out mages, they aren't typically a threat, but it could be drawn to the magical items you have hidden in your cabin. Aki must know their purpose better than anyone — he's from the kingdom, after all. It could give you away, if you aren't careful. The logical side of you says you should leave the bird behind, regardless of what your heart might believe.

But since you met Aki, when have you ever done what you should do?

Rising to your feet, you cup one palm over the other to shield the bird from the falling raindrops. Aki follows, standing back up in turn. Your cottage won't take long to return to. The bird's wound will need to be tended to immediately, before you start preparing dinner. It'll be thirsty and hungry. You're sure you can root around and find something to feed it.

It's settled, then.

You're smiling on the way back home, and when Aki asks you why, you tell him it's nothing, instead of admitting the truth — that you find it amusing, to have already picked up another poor thing to nurse back to health. Another him. You can't catch a break, can you?

—

With each passing, precious day, trying not to become too friendly with your new cabin-mate has been steadily becoming more and more difficult. Impossible, even. Honestly, perhaps that plan was always doomed to fail.

Aki is easy to talk to, and conversations between you flow like a river's calm stream — despite your inexperience when it comes to such discussions. Part of you worried things might become awkward after the night he comforted you, but surprisingly, nothing seems to change. Aki doesn't bring it up, nor does he act any differently. It's as though you've been friends for years, not weeks. It's nice, actually.

Your days are spent gathering ingredients and herbs from the forest, leaving early in the morning to avoid crossing paths with any devils. While your nights are spent relaxing, talking, and eating together. He's learned to make plenty of meals with your assistance. Aki swears he'll remember how to prepare them for his next adventures, should he find himself in a forest like this one.

Your greatest hurdle, at first, was getting used to his presence within the magic circle; a constant source of energy, wavering between the sensitive threads of the spell you've learned to constantly maintain.

It felt — he felt — like a persistent coolness on your skin, a knot within you that couldn't be untangled. A rift in your heart, and in your mind. Now, the ripples surging through your spell hardly bother you. They're comforting, even. Aki's presence, formed by the inner shape of his soul's mana, is calm. Deep like the ocean, frozen over like ice.

Aki is tidy, but his corner of the living room quickly begins to flourish with his belongings. His cot is always made neatly, the pillows straightened.

Books are stacked up beside the cot: various stories he's borrowed from your collection, based on your recommendations. His notebook and the jar of ink you prepared for him are set precariously on top of the stack, a bookmark poking out from the pages. Crafted from a thin strip of wood and one of the songbird's stray crimson feathers, you made the bookmark and gifted it to him.

After Aki's wound stopped bothering him — for the most part — he suddenly forgot all of your previous instructions to rest.

He does relax somewhat, when it's at your request. As his health improves, so does his level of energy. He usually stays up reading when he can't sleep — which is often, you've noticed. And as you've come to learn, Aki is a fountain of energy, and he can hardly stand to be cooped up for long.

You blamed it on the elf in him, initially. The points in his ears don't lie.

Truthfully, you haven't interacted with many elves. They were quite a rare sight in the kingdom. They're known to be on the curious side, requiring little amounts of sleep. Either way, they tend to prefer spending as much of their time as they can on their own pursuits. Novels usually paint elves as cold and stern, often taking up leadership positions because of their intelligence and status, but Aki differs from most of those stereotypes. He isn't cold towards you, anyways.

He reminds you more of a playful side, like the nature-loving elves in adventure stories. The sort of person who gets themselves into all sorts of trouble with their unbound knack for adventure.

Recently, Aki has been promising he'll stay still for a while and lie down, but once you return to the cottage, supplies in hand, he's nowhere to be found.

The first time it happened, you panicked. You felt even more anxious when you couldn't find him outside. The darker parts of your mind decided to spin some story where Aki returns with knights to apprehend you, and an army to face you.

Yet each and every time, he'd return alone.

Sometimes covered in dirt, apologizing for his absence as he interrupts your dinner preparations, dropping a palm-full of the songbird's favorite berries on the counter. We were running out, he explains guiltily, glancing away at the sight of your pout. He's already expecting you to scold him. For acting recklessly, for possibly putting himself in danger. It took me a bit to find them. Sorry if I worried you. I won't get lost next time.

In other cases, he'd return much sooner. He's a sweaty mess as he swings open the front door, slightly out of breath. He runs a hand through his hair to push it back. I was exploring, lost track of time, he says, through ragged gasps. I ran home when I realized how late it was. Got some exercise, at least.

You believe him, because why wouldn't you? Aki is kind and polite, perhaps too much so. He has always been honest. About most things, at least. He's charming, in a way. Though, you'd never admit those things to his face. You have a hard enough time admitting them to yourself.

Aki radiates this strong, fiery sense of warmth that perfectly contrasts the sensation of his aura: cool, deep, and still. A glittering sun on the surface, and a somber moon within. It's incredibly, addictively intriguing.

At this point, you've known him longer than anyone, besides your own family. His presence in your cottage has begun to feel natural. And yet, you feel as though you haven't even scratched his surface.

Nevertheless, the days continue to pass — although they definitely feel faster than normal. Your time with your elven, secretly royal guest slips by effortlessly. Most of Aki's depth continues to remain hidden, but your talks together become longer, your moments shared are always treasured.

And between the gaps in your usual routine, you continue caring for the poor scarlet bird.

Turns out, Aki might be more fond of the little thing than you are. It's endearing, to see him frequently check up on her. He helps you out with her care whenever he can.

The two of you prepared a small area for the bird together, creating a makeshift nest near the fireplace with moss, leaves, and the leather scrap that remained of Aki's old bag. You gathered some seeds and berries, and you placed them close, along with a shallow bowl of water. She was lethargic at first, but thankfully, once the sun rose, the bird began to move and eat. Since then, she's been recovering gradually. You've woken up earlier than usual a few times already, roused by the sound of her pleasant chirping.

That's a good sign, at least. Even if she can't fly yet.

Today, you and Aki rarely separated. You spent most of the morning away from the cottage, and most of the afternoon outside, on the outskirts of the clearing. You've been attempting to grow a garden there, and it needs to be tended to. Hopefully, you'll have your own berry bushes once they're in season next year. It'll make gathering them for dishes much simpler. Aki learns the process quickly, and he has no problem helping you pull weeds and treat the soil.

Once the sun finally began to lower, the trees obscuring its fading glow, the sky hued in bright shades of orange, you both headed back inside, and followed the same routine you've built up over the past few days.

You sit near the fireplace, Aki close beside you. The both of you enjoy the fire's steady, flickering warmth. Today was hot, but the night has grown cold. Dinner was simple to prepare, as was the process of cleaning up, especially with Aki's help. You watch the bird take careful breaths as it draws its wings close, settles into its nest, and closes its eyes.

Cross-legged, you rest your elbows on your knees, and your chin in your hands. Aki leans back, getting comfortable; he glances between you and the fire, the same way he does when he obviously has something to say. Firelight frames his face warmly, his handsome features lit in bright hues, his long, dark hair gently brushing his shoulders.

You'll speak first, if he won't.

"How are you liking the book I lent you?" You're inquiring, your head tilting slightly with your question.

Aki raises a brow. He brings his glass to his lips, and takes a sip of the cherry-red homemade wine. It's more like juice, really. The combination of berries make it sweet and refreshing. Considering the limited resources you have in the forest, it's one of your most impressive recipes.

He sets his glass back down on the floor when he's finished, right next to yours.

"It's good," Aki replies simply, his tone completely earnest. "I'm about halfway through."

Recently, he's been reading one of the many books you recommended to him, usually making progress after you've gone to bed, when he can't sleep. You specifically chose something you thought he would like: an adventure book, about a traveler following his father's old treasure map. The story is carefree and whimsical. You'd hoped Aki might sleep if he read a book before bed, but when he gets terribly engrossed, it just seems to keep him up for even longer.

He reminds you of yourself.

"Are you at the part where he gets to the waterfall?" You ask, recalling the last time you read that particular novel. You've read everything in your collection hundreds of times, but it's been a few months.

"With the sirens?" Aki answers, placing his hands in his lap.

"Yeah," You hum, a stupid grin tugging at your cheeks. Your gaze sparkles, and you hardly attempt to keep it at bay. "With the sirens."

You aren't sure what makes you happier. The fact that Aki is genuinely reading and enjoying the book you chose, knowing he's currently reaching one of your favorite parts in the story, or the pleasant spark you get in your chest when you imagine talking about it with him once he's finished, finally being able to share something you love.

All of those feelings are lovely enough to keep, but nothing compares to the warmth you're drowned in as Aki flashes you a quick, gentle smile.

"You better not spoil what happens," He murmurs through a small laugh, "You've gotten me invested."

"I would never, I promise." You raise your hands in the air innocently. Dammit, his smile is so contagious. "We probably shouldn't talk about it until you're done, just in case. You've gotta finish all of it. The ending is the best part, for sure."

"What about your book?" Aki asks; his gaze stays on you, as he watches you take a quick sip of your wine. "Have you finished it yet?"

You swirl the contents of your glass. "The Holy Knight? Yeah, I finished it yesterday."

"Did you like it? Or, I suppose you said you've already read it, right?" Aki corrects. "How does it compare to the last time you read it?"

Thinking to yourself, you breathe a soft hmm, and tap your index finger idly against your cheek.

"It was good. I mean, I enjoy the whole story no matter how many times I've read it. The ending always makes me tear up."

You recall the final chapter, the book's somber ending. At the very end, the knight saves the land, and as the curse is lifted, flowers and trees finally begin to grow. He inherits the kingdom, he is surrounded by wealth and beauty. But even after becoming king and marrying his love, he isn't satisfied with his accomplishments. In one final battle, the knight sacrifices himself to save the princess. He departs from her with an embrace, and then kisses her hand, her cheek, and finally…

Aki's smooth voice breaks you out of your haze. "My brother owned that one. I've read parts of it to him before, countless times. Though I can't remember if we ever wound up finishing it."

"Maybe that's for the best. It's kind of a sad ending."

You shrug, your gaze drifting away from him, and back towards the fireplace, flames flickering and wavering. The small scarlet bird rests in her nest. She appears to be sleeping, her eyes closed and her head tucked close to her patchy wing. You adjust your position, sitting with your knees drawn up, your arms around them. The living room smells like the fireplace's crisp ashes, mixed with the lingering sweet scent of crushed berries and juice.

For some odd reason — or perhaps there isn't one — you change the subject to abruptly state, "The knight in that story. He reminds me of you."

Aki's eyes grow slightly wider. Then, he lets go of an amused huff, he points to himself with his thumb; "Me? Honestly, I haven't read that story in a long time. I think you'll have to explain."

He's glancing at you now, back straightened, pointed ears slightly perked up.

"Uhm, it's like-" You shake your head, trying not to stutter. "It's just with how he is around the princess, you know? You remember the scene where Vincent meets Edith, right? Before she gets captured?"

Aki's brows furrow, as though he's trying to remember. "Vaguely."

"Where Edith says she hates him, and swears they'll never marry, even if the entire kingdom was at stake. But Vincent vows he'll win her heart?"

"Ah. Well-" Reaching for his drink, Aki tilts his head back to take a good long sip. His warm, confident gaze meets yours. "I don't think I've won anything yet."

When you promptly elbow him, he offers you a slight, almost nervous grin. Thankfully, he gives your heart a bit of reprieve, glancing away to carefully set his drink back down.

"Not like that," You're scoffing, shuffling with embarrassment. You drop your knees to place your hands in your lap and fiddle with your thumbs. "It was just… with how he's so nice to her, and then their dialogue changes so much as they grow closer-" You shake your head. "Ugh. Nevermind."

"No, no. I'm listening." Aki peers at you, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease you. I understand what you mean. We are similar."

Too similar. You're starting to wish you hadn't spoken, or even made the connection, because you can no longer stop yourself from picturing the novel's scenes with you in place of the princess — and of course, with Aki in place of the knight.

You imagine Aki hugging you close, his strong, safe arms around you, before he pulls back to kiss your hand, soft lips delicately brushing your knuckles. You think of Aki sweeping you into his arms to carry you away from danger. Aki reassuring you on late nights spent in one another's bed chambers that he wouldn't leave you, not even if the world deemed it so. Aki offering you his sword, so you can tap it to his shoulder as he says his vows, those pretty blue eyes on yours, his smooth voice echoing through your dizzy thoughts.

Miss Edith, I do swear for as long as I draw breath to never allow my fealty to waver. I do swear to offer my life for yours, and my heart for you to bear. If I am to fall, you will be my final thought, as you are my first and last dream before sleep, my love.

You've memorized so many lines from that damn book, and paired with how vividly you can picture Aki's voice, your mind is practically whirling.

You shake your head firmly, and give your flushed cheeks a couple light slaps. Aki cocks a brow, and casually leans closer as he glances at you, hoping to catch your eyes once more.

"Are you alright?" He murmurs, his soft tone not-so different from the one you were imagining, "Don't force yourself to stay awake if you're getting tired."

"Oh," You blink, and try your best to meet his gaze without looking away. Without picturing one of your favorite scenes from the book, a moment not too different from this one. The knight and the princess are in her quarters, sipping wine from fancy goblets. Suddenly, the princess suggests she's been hiding her true feelings all along, she believes she's fallen for him, and then —

"Yeah, I'm a bit tired," You mutter, clearing your throat. The fireplace is suddenly interesting enough to catch your eyes and keep them there.

Aki waits a moment, before he gathers both of your nearly-empty glasses, and reaches forward to set them on the edge of the fireplace, placing them out of the way.

All of those moments, those scenes, those dreams, often felt as though they'd be impossible. They are just fiction. Books to get drawn into, to take you somewhere far away from here, and nothing more. Because in your heart, you know those stories were never written with you in mind. Magic and mages would often be portrayed as what people thought of them — as the evil force the heroes needed to combat, as the villians that were meant to be vanquished. You accepted them for what they were, and accepted your loneliness. You had no other choice.

Perhaps you should start dreaming again. Perhaps this new dream, the one Aki has begun to lead you into, will pave a path to a warm, blossoming future. As long as you are willing to finally let yourself trust.

"You should get some rest," Aki encourages, his tone kept low. He gestures to the bird with a flicker of his gaze and a tilt of his head. "I'll keep an eye on her."

As if led by his instruction, you promptly stretch your arms up, and struggle to form an answer through a long yawn. "Alright."

Aki awkwardly rolls his shoulders back. He gnaws on his bottom lip, and avoids meeting your eyes as he rubs the tension from his own hands, squeezing his palms, flexing his fingers.

"There was… something I wanted to do," He begins, "But I wasn't sure if I should propose it."

"Huh?" You question, "Why?"

"I thought it might upset you."

Knowing Aki, it surely wouldn't. You don't hesitate, and barely fault your budding curiosity.

"Show me. And if I don't like it, I'll tell you." Your gaze on his is sure, unwavering. You reflect sparks of fierce firelight. "I'm okay with giving anything a chance, as long as it's with you."

Aki looks away, swallowing. He seems nervous, in a certain endearing way, in a way you're sure you haven't seen from him yet; he shifts uncomfortably, his palms already sweaty. Finally, he sighs, and forces himself to not only meet your eyes, but to get the words out.

"Do you remember this one scene from the middle of The Holy Knight? When they're-" He cringes, his teeth gritting. "Riding in the back of a carriage?"

Vincent and Edith had just finished tending to affairs at a fancy dinner party. The chapter leaves out most of the details, but describes them as they traveled back to the castle. They sat together in a fancy horse-drawn carriage, and as Edith's weary eyes began to droop, Vincent guided her to rest against his shoulder.

Oh. You don't answer, but you're sure you've made your realization obvious by the look on your face.

You watch him curiously as Aki takes a deep, motivating breath. He doesn't meet your eyes, but he does begin to shift a bit closer. He ever-so slowly and ever-so tentatively places his arm around you, barely touching. You follow the rest of the way, as he guides you to carefully lean your head against his shoulder.

It's stiff, a bit cumbersome. Your cheek doesn't quite rest perfectly on the bony, hard edge of his shoulder. You have to lean over a bit too much for this to be truly comfortable, and Aki is surely sitting way too straight, clearly still awkward.

But honestly, it's perfect. It's authentic, it's warm — and when you steal a glance up at him, his pretty expression makes it all worth it. Aki is smiling. He's flustered, perhaps more than you. You doubt the light from the fireplace is all that's flushing his skin in shades of red and pink.

You smirk, and nuzzle further into his shoulder, finally closing your eyes.

"Awfully bold of you," You're murmuring in a tired tone, trying your best to mimic the fancy cadence of the princess' line from the novel.

Aki shrugs. "It's probably the wine."

It isn't, it's fruit juice you've been calling wine, but your fuzzy thoughts begin to fade away as the fire warms you, and as Aki's faint touch comforts you — his arm around you, his palm brushing from your shoulder to your back — guiding your mind to drift off into a quiet, gentle slumber.

—

When the night sky meets the trees, the moon illuminating the clearing's whispering blades of grass, and the stars shimmering with their own faint promises, you find your favorite space to be alone.

It's been a few weeks since Aki first began staying with you, and a few days since you first took the bird in. Tonight, the foggy air that settles on your skin is cool and crisp. The forest is calm and quiet, save for the sounds of rustling trees and cooing cicadas. You sit in the clearing just in front of your cottage, cross-legged, gazing up at the brilliant canopy illuminating the surrounding darkness.

This was your usual routine, before Aki. You would spend each night looking up at the stars, when it was far too late for anything to disturb you. The night often gave you peace. It allowed you to think. When it was just you and the crickets and the wind, and the smell of the dirt and the trees, you felt as though you could finally breathe.

Inhaling slowly, and then exhaling carefully, you let the night's cool air fill your lungs. Wind brushes across you ever-so faintly. At first, while Aki was resting, you took every opportunity, slipping away to enjoy this whenever you could. When your mind was racing and you just couldn't sleep, the lonesome silence helped to calm your worries. This time, it isn't helping much.

Your mind has been a mess all day today, and the day before that. Perhaps it has never truly untangled. All the usual worries you've had about Aki and the kingdom and the future have been piling up, filling your head with no way to discard them. Quietness helps you think, but you don't want to think; you've been lost in your thoughts for way too long.

Nothing works. It's a lost cause, clearly. You sigh to yourself.

The best you can do is try to relax out here for a while, underneath the pale moon, and hope your mind eventually tires itself out enough to let you sleep.

Though, the night has other plans for you.

The cottage door opens from behind you with a wooden creak, and you swiftly turn around. Aki carefully closes the door behind him. He gives you a soft, acknowledging smile when your eyes meet, before he walks down the stairs of the front porch, and comes to sit beside you. He matches you, crossing his legs; faint breaths of wind rustle his crisp white tunic and flutter through the long, dark strands of his hair.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" Aki asks smoothly, and you quickly shake your head.

"No, no. It's fine. You can stay." Your gaze travels back to the glittering stars, as they watch over the both of you with distant admiration. "I'd like it if you stayed, actually."

So, Aki does.

He folds his hands in his lap, and falls into silence alongside you. Once again, you are no longer alone. He stays while you stare absently at the moon and the sky, continuing to think to yourself. He stays when the night seems to grow colder, the breeze nipping at your arms and the back of your neck, your eyes heavy, while your heart keeps thudding in your chest.

Finally, you let go of a small sigh in frustration. It doesn't go unnoticed; Aki's gaze flickers back to you. In the corner of your vision, you can see him eyeing you up and down, carefully considering, calmly examining.

"Are you alright?" He asks, far too gently. "It's pretty late for you to still be awake."

You shake your head. You glance down, focused on your hands and the shadowy blades of grass tickling your knees. "I can't sleep."

"Why's that? Are you cold?" Aki's brow raises as he notes your small shivers. "I can move, if you want to be by the fireplace. I'll sleep on the floor or something."

"I'm not that cold." You rub your goosebump-filled arms with your palms, somewhat contradicting your words. "I've just been thinking. Thinking too much, probably. That's all."

Aki quiets. He runs a hand through his hair to push it from his face, he idly taps his finger against his knee.

Suddenly, thinking becomes so much more difficult. It always is, whenever he's around. Yet, this is a welcome change. The night feels warmer with him near. His presence alone helps your mind find its footing. You can breathe, but you didn't need the night to teach you — you just needed him.

Foolish, isn't it?

A few moments tick by. Your thoughts drift to lighter subjects. Dreams and soft hopes. He waits for you to speak, never pressing, never pulling. And so, you do.

"I've always liked how bright the stars are out here," You murmur, almost talking to yourself, with your gaze still caught on the sparkling array in the sky. "They shine brighter where the forest is darkest. Almost like they know there's someone out there who might need them to light their way home."

On your first night alone, when you escaped from the kingdom, when you ran as deep into the forest as your tired legs could take you, with only some books in your pack and a demon-warding amulet around your neck, the stars were there. They lit your path through the trees and into the clearing. Hundreds upon thousands of steady glowing lights watched over you when you collapsed, and they made sure to look after your rest until morning.

Aki listens intently. He looks only at you. When you're content like this, staring at the sky, your pretty gaze seems to sparkle, too.

"They're gorgeous. It gets harder to see them the closer you get to the city," He says. "In the kingdom, we have this phrase about stars. It's quite famous. I'm pretty sure some poet came up with it a thousand odd years ago, and now people use it in stories and plays and such."

You turn towards him. "And that phrase is?"

"Per aspera ad astra." Aki pronounces each syllable perfectly and purposely, with a certain sense of wonder. "It means, 'through thorns, look to the stars.' But phrases in old tongue can honestly be interpreted in a thousand different ways."

"The stars will never stop watching over us, even through hardships." You give your own interpretation, while admiring those very same stars. "What a beautiful phrase."

He smiles. "Yeah. I thought you would like it."

Those stars and this moon watched over your family ages ago. They foresaw the very first mages, they looked upon their devastating downfall. No matter what future they might hold for you, their presence above your head will never change, they'll never waver.

They've been watching Aki, too. When you were younger, young enough to gaze up at the sky and dream of a brighter future, where was he? Learning to fight the devils you'd soon have to run from, pacing the halls of the castle you dreamt of visiting?

You take another deep, grounding breath, taking in the crisp night air, and you draw your knees up, getting more comfortable. Glancing at Aki, you see him intently looking at the sky, this time. For once, he isn't staring at you.

"Could you tell me another?"

Aki glances towards you with a hint of surprise. "Another phrase?"

You nod. "I didn't know the kingdom still spoke in old tongue. It's interesting."

Aki hums, considering. He holds his chin, his brows pinching as he thinks. Eventually, he continues, allowing you to hear his smooth voice once more — just as you wanted.

"Okay… let's see. Fortis fortuna adiuvat. 'Fortune favors the bold.' All the knights in training have to learn that one." He smirks, his eyes rolling slightly. The kingdom's chivalry must fail to impress him. "Devil hunters prefer morior invictus. Death over defeat."

"I think I've heard the first one." You pause to dwell on his words, before you turn back to him, eagerly questioning, "And what about the kingdom? Could you tell me more about it?"

Aki pauses. He breathes a small laugh. "I'm… not sure what you mean. What did you want to know? Just…" He shrugs. "Anything?"

"Yeah. Can you tell me what it's like?"

For a moment, he hesitates. He takes a deep, thoughtful breath. A soft, clearly excited smile forms on his features. He gazes at you like you're sparkling more than the sky.

"Well, I- I thought you might like the kingdom's gardens," He explains, a bit awkward and stuttery at first. "The castle's garden, especially. The front entrance is surrounded by huge weeping willow trees. Each path is decorated with every bright color of flower you can imagine. They flourish in the spring, and in autumn, the trees turn the richest gold hue. There's rose bushes, daffodils, tulips, orchids. Orchids are your favorite, aren't they?"

When you brought home a bundle of orchids, he watched as you carefully trimmed their stems to place them in a vase on the dining room table, and he listened as you explained how you've always found them beautiful. They're a symbol of elegance and grace, a common motif in your favorite poetry books. You've always admired them. Aki promised he'd remember.

You nod shyly. "That's right."

Aki smiles. He places his hands in his lap, slightly fiddling with his thumbs. The moon and stars form a bright halo above him, glittering down onto both of you. "I'm sure you'd find orchids in every shade. Or if you wanted some for yourself, I could buy them for you. Ah, you'd like walking through the town square, too. There's lots of flower vendors."

"Flower vendors?" You're scoffing, donning a grin of disbelief, "People are spending gold on flowers when there's thousands they could pick without emptying their pockets?"

"Well, they're usually selling flowers you can only get in certain regions. They grow them themselves," Aki explains matter-of-factly. "Besides, it's tradition. You're supposed to buy flowers as gifts. For your loved ones or your family or your partner. Something like that."

You try to ponder the implications, your mind and your heart stuck on his specific choice of words; your partner. Does Aki have a spouse? Perhaps there's someone he's already interested in. He's royalty, surely he has admirers. Or maybe, just maybe, offering to buy flowers for you meant something more — but Aki stands, pushing himself up and rising to his feet, instantly halting your surging train of thought.

"Wait-" You glance up at him swiftly. "You're leaving?"

"Only for a moment," He answers. Your expression softens. The rush of relief that fills you must be palpable.

Aki gestures towards the cottage. "I was going to get a blanket for us. Unless you'd prefer to go back inside?"

"Oh. No," You murmur in response, shaking your head. "No, it's fine."

He isn't gone for long. Aki brings one of the blankets he was using for his makeshift bed: a large, handmade quilt, messily sewn from different patches of fabric. Delightful warmth fills your body as he drapes the blanket around you, but for good measure, he shifts closer. Close enough to let the both of you share the blanket, close enough to have your legs brush and your shoulder press to his.

And as the night stretches on, Aki tells you about the kingdom. He details everything you would want to know, he provides illustrations for all of the fantasies you have wondered and dreamt about — the luxuries you wished you could afford. He makes all of them seem real.

It's late. You need to sleep, you know you'll be exhausted by the time tomorrow comes, and you're sure he knows this too. But you stay as you are. You don't want this moment to end.

For as long as the night allows, you live through what he shares with you, as though this life were different, and you were much more fortunate. Honestly, you are more fortunate than you've ever been to have this, to have him.

Aki describes the kingdom's beauty to you. Cobblestone pathways, ornate churches, bridges that overlook the entire city. The castle is placed upon a hill; you can spot its grandeur from miles away. A river runs through the city, providing canoes you can take, pooling into a beautiful sea with an abundance of fish to catch. The streets are always busy. There's merchants and performers, vendors and dancers. Nightly parties and fancy outings, and a life you could only ever dream of.

If Aki offered to take you, to show you, to give you such a life, you can't quite decide how you'd answer.

At some point, the descriptions he's painting for you blend together. The bustling depictions of the ferry port jumble with his explanation of the town's most famous grand library. Your head slips to his shoulder, and you're fading away. You can't remember the last thing you heard before you fell asleep.

Briefly, you wake up while Aki is carrying you inside, but you drift off once again the moment he places you into your bed, drawing the warm, comfy covers over you, and quietly closing your bedroom door behind him.

—

Days pass. Nights spent looking upon the stars together become more frequent.

After a while in your care, the injured scarlet songbird begins to show some positive signs. She's been leaving her bed on her own to hop around the living room, or to perch on the end of Aki's cot. Although her wing still seems weak, she's been trying to flap it, stretching and waving both wings in the air at every opportunity.

An excited Aki drags you into the cottage a few days later. You were in the clearing, tending to the garden, but you follow along when he begins tugging you by your arm.

The songbird flutters around the room, floating freely from the edge of the fireplace, to the kitchen counter, to the top of a sculpture-filled bookshelf.

Look, Aki says, exuberant. She's flying.

—

The flickering fire in front of you radiates steady, calming warmth. As you carefully tilt the small chunk of wood in your hands, your sleeves rolled up, a blanket in your lap to catch all the shavings, you can no longer feel the chill of the night.

An almost-full moon watches over your technique. Your eyes narrow in focus. Your thumb presses to the blunt side of your blade.

You've been working on this sculpture for a few days now; you have to be careful, you wouldn't want to make a mistake when you're so close to adding the finishing touches. This sculpture has to be perfect. After all, getting the chance to study a scarlet songbird up close is hardly an everyday occurrence.

Slowly and meticulously, you refine the head of the sculpture, smoothing out the bumps in the circular shape. The end of the head is spiked slightly, to form the shape of thin feathers. You've recently learned from your hours of study that songbirds have large, thick beaks, perfect for cracking open the shells of seeds. You curve your knife, and refine the simple shape of the beak into a dull, triangular point.

Aki sits across from you, one leg crossed over the other. The both of you have already finished dinner, and you now rest in the middle of the clearing, in front of the fire, sitting on some large fallen logs you dragged in from the forest. His hair remains the way it was this morning: tied back to keep stray strands out of his face. He leans backward, head tilted up as he gazes silently at the glittering sea of stars.

Normally, you would join him. You'd set your sculpture down to complete later, and you'd come to sit beside him, so the two of you could count the constellations together. But tonight, your mind is elsewhere. You're focused on the pounding of your heart and the movement of your hands, because tonight, Aki finally won.

There's a game the two of you have been playing, ever since the nights have begun to grow warmer.

To your surprise, when you brought up the idea, you learned Aki has never caught fireflies before. He's hardly ever seen them, he explains, outside of a handful of times when he was a kid.

They're useful to light up the kitchen, so you can clean up after taking your time at dinner. Most of the time though, you'll catch them in your palms, you'll place them into jars and admire the performance of their synchronized glow, just to watch them all fill the sky once you set them free. You showed Aki how he could catch them, his own hands mimicking the cupped shape of yours. And now, each night, you've been playfully competing to see who can catch more.

At first, it was to decide who would wash the plates and pans. When a few days went by with no success, Aki decided to raise the stakes. If he wins, he gets to ask you three questions, and you have to promise to answer.

You were confused. Perhaps even the slightest bit shocked. You silently mulled over his proposal as the two of you washed dishes together, a jar filled with ten busy fireflies on your side, and a jar holding just two of them on his side — both fireflies conversing, gently flickering their bulbs.

I won't ask anything too personal, I promise. And if I ever did, you wouldn't have to answer, Aki explained. His expression was soft and reassuring as he glanced up at you, while scrubbing some silverware with a worn-down rag. I feel I don't know much about you, is all. And I'd like to.

You aren't used to someone wanting to learn more about you, nor would you know precisely what you should tell them. What if you wind up saying too much? Or perhaps, you would only be able to tell him far too little?

No matter how foolish, some part of you believes it wants to tell him.

In all honesty, you weren't expecting much to come out of the deal you just agreed to. You believe him; Aki wouldn't ask anything out of the ordinary, he wouldn't press you, or put you in a situation you can't get out of. He also happens to be particularly awful at catching fireflies. He's never caught more than you, and with his lack of experience, you wouldn't expect him to — until tonight, of course.

Once you lit the firewood and a fire began to spark, you both sat down to compare how many you collected. You counted, and as the fireflies fluttered around, you recounted. Aki counted them as well before you set them free, just in case you were mistaken. He met your gaze with a sure, satisfied smile.

He caught one more than you.

Now, here you are. You wouldn't call this feeling worry. As you sit by the fire, busying yourself with your diligent work on your wood carving, your heart comes alive — with warmth that burns the chassis of your chest from the inside. You swear your fear has been swallowed by the flames, because this feeling is more like excitement, unwavering and true.

You have never revealed what lies beneath your surface, not ever before. Not to anyone but the starlight.

Gods, how you have waited for this.

"So," You begin, breaking the silence first. You drag your attention away from your wood carving, glancing up at Aki with an eyebrow raised, "What would you like to know?"

Aki finally looks away from the sky, and you try not to falter when his deep gaze meets yours. He flashes you a small smile. Then, he breathes a soft, obvious hmm, as if he's pretending you'd caught him off guard.

"Your name would be a good place to start."

Ah. After all this time, you still haven't told him. You consider the possibilities, nervously running your thumb over the grooved shape of the sculpture's unfinished wing. Your family name would be dangerous for him to know, of course. In any other circumstance, you'd consider giving him something fake, or possibly your middle name, since it'd be more difficult to trace. But this time, your first name is fine. If it's Aki who knows it, you have nothing to fear.

So, you answer. Aki grins, lacing his delicate, scarred hands together, and resting his elbows on his knees.

One question down, two more to go.

"A very pretty name. It suits you," He muses, in a tone smooth enough to make you shudder. His words feel like thick liquid gold, tingling in your veins and dripping down your back. "You already know mine. But perhaps there's something else you'd like to know about me?"

"I- I mean, maybe," You reply, trying and failing not to stutter. There's plenty of things you've been wanting to know, but nearly all of them you couldn't just say. You can't suddenly blurt out, Are you really royalty? as casually as he just asked for your name. "But I thought you were the one asking the questions. Not me."

"It'd be fair to let you ask some too. Right?"

Your fingers drum idly against the hilt of your knife.

"Okay, uhm…" You glance him up and down, trying to come up with something. Your gaze catches on the pointed ears sticking out from his hair; "You're an elf, aren't you? Is your family from the kingdom? I heard there weren't many elves there."

That was two questions in one, but Aki doesn't seem to mind.

"Half-elf," He corrects. The firelight dances in his eyes, forming fuzzy warmth in the edges of your vision. "My mother was an elf, and my father was human. My brother and I were both born and raised in the kingdom, as was my father. But my mother was considered an outsider. She left her village when she was twenty."

Was. Your eyes widen. Although you already had your hints and suspicions, you can't help but note his specific choice of words. Still, your gaze drifts back down to your sculpture. You glide your knife forwards to thin out the delicate shape of the long tail feathers, and you move along without mentioning it.

"Ah," You reply, nodding, "Sorry. You're a half-elf."

Aki cocks a brow. "You seem surprised."

Half-elves aren't exactly common, considering the tension that can still linger between both parties. Elves have always been known for discovering magic; their magic lineage leads some to distrust them. They're often blamed for past troubles. Humans are the ones revered for stopping them. A half-elf would surely face judgment from both sides.

You know what that feeling is like. Has Aki also felt like an outcast, did part of him gnaw from within, promising he would never find somewhere he truly belonged?

"I thought half-elves were a rarity," You reply quietly, "But I don't know, maybe I'm wrong." You give a heavy shrug of your shoulders. "It's been a while since I left the cottage."

If only he knew.

"That's alright," Aki answers calmly, folding his hands and placing them in his lap. "Half-elves are uncommon, but in recent times, not so much. The, uh," He clears his throat rather abruptly. "The old king and queen set a new precedent, I suppose."

You squint as his gaze meets yours, matching his coyness with curiosity and confusion.

The old king and queen. An elf and a human ruling together was unheard of, at the time.

Unfortunately, your memories of the kingdom are vague. When you were much, much younger, you heard many stories about the famous king and queen, your mother's embellished retellings filling your mind each night before bed. A few weeks before you fled the kingdom, you learned of their passing. The details weren't revealed to the public, you'd imagine. You suppose you were too young to know what was true and what was just a tale.

Before you can ask anything else, Aki is continuing, as he nervously drums a hand against his knee.

"A lot has changed in such a short time. Elves have always been welcome in the kingdom, but it's rare for people to judge them these days. The king and queen were very well remembered."

Then, he breathes a short laugh. He points to his ears, his star-shaped earrings sparkling when they catch the flames of the fire. "In some other places though, these ears have gotten me into an awful lot of trouble."

This, in fact, does not surprise you.

Your eyes roll playfully. Setting down your sculpture and your knife in favor of resting your chin in your hand, you shoot Aki a teasing glance. "Really? What kind of trouble?"

"Mmm, you know. The typical sentiments. Lots and lots of dirty looks. Whispers about magic and mages and the like. Most half-elves have smaller ears, but you can't exactly hide these." Aki taps his pointed ear, making his earring rustle. "I owe you many things- my life, for one. But I'm grateful you've never judged me, even when you saw what I was."

You shake your head and scoff, your jaw tightening, "Come on, you don't owe me anything. You needed help, that's all. So I provided."

You've told those words to yourself at least a thousand times. Oh, but it's so much more than that now, isn't it?

Aki sighs. "Gods, you're sweet, you know that?" He smiles, his gaze sparkling with saccharine sweetness. "You could have turned me away, you could have easily kept me at arm's length. But when I'm with you, I never feel anything less than welcomed."

Your heart stirs, thudding within your chest like a performer's drum, fluttering like the flap of a bird's wings, and warming your face until it feels hotter than the flames of the fire.

"Stop, you're just…" You rub your arm shyly while you glance down at your boots. "You're only saying that."

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," Aki answers softly. "There's good in you, more than most I've met these days."

Good? When was the last time anyone thought of you as good? Mages have never been regarded with anything but contempt, and you have embodied that fact for so, so long. It's become who you are. You have defined yourself as a witch, you've embodied the terrible things you've heard people say and do. You aren't allowed to be anything more than that. Your life isn't worth anything more.

Aki makes you think differently. He's reminded you of what you thought you couldn't have, he's made you think that you can be you — clipped wings soft, and outstretched.

You glance down once more at the sculpture. You hold it in your palms, and run your thumb over the details: the pointed beak, the smooth body, the small feet. Carefully, you take hold of your knife. Your eyes narrow as you guide the blade, adding faint notches to the bird's thin talons.

You sigh to yourself, your brows knotted in focus. "I'm sure not everyone you've met is terrible."

"You'd be surprised. A lot of towns are still pretty intolerant towards elves. Towards mages, in specific. Even if I explained I was there to help them, to fight devils for them, sometimes they'd simply refuse to listen." Aki huffs in frustration, leaning forwards, rubbing the tension from the joints in his fingers. "I felt lucky whenever they denied me entry. At least then, I wouldn't have to deal with them."

You can definitely sympathize. Quietly, you reply, "That sounds… unfair."

"It was. My mother often tried to rationalize it. 'Those people are afraid, Aki. They don't want to be hurt again.'"

His shoulders slump when he lets go of a weighty, built-up breath. His gaze has found itself drifting, first focused on the fire, and now stuck on his hands. "I understood that. I've known since I was young. It's just… you know." A choked bite finds its way into his tone. "Frustrating."

Frustrating is a light way to put it. You certainly, undoubtedly know. Aki doesn't realize how acquainted you are with that very same feeling of hopelessness.

He pauses, brows furrowed as he thinks, and you set your knife aside. Your fingers return to trace the curves of the nearly-complete sculpture.

When Aki speaks next, he's glancing back up at you. "Could I ask about your family? Or… is that…"

He trails off, but you know precisely where he's headed. It isn't too much, not if he's the one listening. You shake your head, glancing between him and your hands.

"No, it's alright," You reply, your voice weaker than intended. "There just isn't much to say. They've both been gone for… Gods, ages now. I wasn't as close with my father, but my mother was very important to me. Losing her was difficult."

Sadness lingers in your tone, along with something anxious, something uncertain. Aki watches your hands, fiddling uneasily with the small wood carving.

Like a quiet eclipse, there's meaning behind your words, a gentleness you prosper when you give Aki a knowing, pained glance. You know the pain he's felt. You've shared it once, perhaps without realizing.

When he speaks, his voice helps to ground you.

"I'm sorry. I understand. My mother and father are gone. I lost my younger brother with them. It's a terrible feeling."

You breathe deeply, steadying yourself.

No one knows about your family. You rarely even think about what happened, you prefer to move on rather than dig up old wounds; it's what you needed to do to survive. And yet, in the face of Aki's soft expression, his calm gaze meeting yours, the words seem to spill out before you can stop them — your breath catching, your hands clenching the sculpture tight.

"I lost them. And when I did, I… I lost everything," You're murmuring, your shoulders tense as you try not to shrink in on yourself. "I was alone for the longest time. I felt… afraid."

Aki's leg bounces. For a moment, as you glance up at him quickly, before avoiding his eyes to look down again, you think he might stand up. You wouldn't mind if he came to sit next to you. Against your better judgment, you might find yourself pulling him closer, latching onto his arm or dragging him into an embrace just to savor the way your heart would skip. Instead, he forces himself to still, his hands folded and his knuckles locked.

You sigh, and continue before he has a chance to speak. "Sorry. It's difficult to… to put everything into words. I'm not used to this. I haven't really… talked about it before. Not until now."

Aki glances you up and down, noting the discomfort in your posture. He swallows, and he leans back.

"Don't apologize," He says, his tone soft. "You're doing just fine. You don't have to speak if you don't want to."

As your reassured gaze catches on his own, he brushes a palm over the back of his neck, and hurries to fill the air with something other than the crackle of the fire and the chirp of crickets.

"My dad and I- my mother always said we were the same," He begins. The fire's flames wash over his face in faint orange hues. "Stubborn. Fearless. He was an adventurer when he was my age. The kind of man that never wanted to be stuck in one place. But when he married, he finally settled down. He was… a well-respected man. Many people disapproved of him marrying an elf."

You stay frozen in place, your eyes softening at the sound of his voice. He takes a deep breath, laughing a bit.

"You know, when I was young, I was one of those kids that never stopped to think before they spoke. Ardentis is what my mother used to say. It means… filled with fire. Impulsive. When I was ten, I asked my father why he would ever marry my mother, if it made things so difficult. Thank the Gods I said it when we were out on our own, visiting another province. I can't imagine how they would've scolded me if I said it in public."

Filled with fire. Aki always burns bright, but the outline of his soul — floating and flickering within your magic — feels cold, in comparison. Like pressing your palm to the smooth surface of a frozen lake. Like falling through to drown in deep, cool waters.

Aki can't look at you. "My father answered, when you love someone, you'll find a way to bend the world to fit their shape." He pauses. He clears his throat, his shoulders slack; he glances up at you, finally. "It was one of the last things I remember him telling me, so I guess it always stuck."

You listen in silence. Everything converges and stops, your entire world pinpointed on this singular moment. The songbird sculpture rests in your hands, your grip tightening, although your gaze is unable to tear away from his. The fire crackles gently, the wind brushes your skin like a kiss.

Leaning back, Aki crosses one leg over the other. "I'm onto my third question now. Right?"

"Yeah. Right."

And what of the shape of your own soul? Would his fit with yours? Would they press together like the softness of hands interlocked, or like the sting of a knife to your throat?

Aki flashes you a warm smile. "Which do you prefer? Sunrise, or sunset?"

—

Sunset was your answer.

You adore the beautiful hues the sun paints across the sky, dying light shining through the trees in desperate rays, only for everything to fade into the alluring darkness of the night. Sunsets mark new beginnings, before the sunrise returns to embrace them. Both are beautiful — and to be honest, you weren't sure which you preferred.

When Aki asked you that night, you put little thought into your answer. You've always had an appreciation for both, but you've never thought of picking a favorite. You pondered it for a moment, before simply choosing one, like flipping a coin, like relying on a hunch. Sunsets are your favorite.

The night was stretching on for a bit too long, and since the two of you still needed to get some sleep, you left it at that. Aki thanked you. He gave you a simple, you'll see, when you questioned where he might be going with this. You yawned, watching the fire flicker weakly, and decided it'd be best to call the night there.

You slept peacefully and dreamlessly. Busy with the chores of the coming day, you nearly forgot about the conversation and the night you shared — until Aki returned to surprise you.

He'd been out for a while. You had some cleaning to do around the cottage that day, and so he promised to tend to the garden while you finished everything you needed to. You cleaned your bedroom and the living room. You washed all of the blankets and linens, hanging them up on the line out front. When you glanced towards the garden, the sun high in the sky and a crisp breeze at your back, Aki was nowhere to be found.

At last, just before sundown, he returned — along with the scarlet songbird in tow. You set down the dish you were washing as he tossed open the door to greet you in the kitchen.

In just one day, the bird has made immense progress. She's been following me all day, Aki explained earlier this afternoon. The bird flew out of the cottage when he left, and proceeded to follow Aki into the garden, perching on his shoulder whenever she needed to rest.

The bird flutters back inside, settling in her makeshift nest, and Aki holds the front door open, gesturing for you to follow.

A faint pout forms on your lips, your brow raising, arms crossing. "You're letting all the warm air out."

Aki lets go of a half-laugh, half-sigh. His hair is tied up, his sleeves are rolled slightly, but his tunic is otherwise neat. If he'd been working out in the garden, usually he'd return with his shirt and his palms covered in dirt; he's cleaned himself up already, it seems.

"There's something I want to show you," Aki says simply, "It's a surprise."

You shift from foot to foot. "What about dinner?"

"I'll help you make something afterwards. It won't take long, I promise."

You give yourself only a moment more to consider.

Following close behind, you allow Aki to lead you behind the cottage, through the clearing, and into the edges of the forest. With the end of the day fast approaching, the air is cooling down; it nips at your arms and your neck with gentle, icy teeth. Your boots crunch on leaves and fallen branches. Shadows envelop the forest floor, the thick canopy above watching over you. A large hill rests just behind your cottage, and you spot it as the whispering trees start to thin.

"Aki," You murmur, staring at his back, your chilly hands shoved in your pockets. The hill is clearly where he's leading you to, but why? "How far is whatever you wanted to show me?"

"Not far. It's right here," He replies, turning around to face you, offering you a reassuring glance. "We're just heading up this hill. I scouted the area already, pretty sure the devils have no idea this spot exists. We'll be able to run back home if anything happens, okay?"

You come to a stop at the foot of the hill, and you glance down. You watch, as you delicately step over the line that forms your magic mushroom circle. The spell splinters, losing its shape, leaving your veins in a rush. Aki is already halfway up the hill, and you hurry close behind him, following him to the top — where the sky finally comes into full view.

The sight you're met with is brilliant.

From the very top of the hill, you can see the clearing and your cottage. You can feel the breeze rustling your clothing and floating through your hair, almost as if you could fly, if you had wings. You're surrounded by hues of bright orange and pink that color every inch of the sky, vivid shades pooling around the edges of the clouds. If you squint, you can just barely glance at the line where the sun meets the horizon, glowing brightly as it begins to dip into the endless line of trees. A fierce dot of radiant yellow, alighting everything it touches in the very same hue.

The wind tugs at your clothes. You place a palm on your forehead, shielding your eyes to look at the sky clearer. You remember climbing this hill when you first made your cottage, but Gods, you've never seen anything like this.

Aki walks further, guiding you to the furthest edge of the hill — and that's when you spot it. A large log placed for the both of you to sit on, with a few blankets draped across it, and a delicately-picked bundle of flowers placed on top.

"Oh- you-" You're talking without thinking, your breath caught in your throat, your eyes wide as you glance between him and the arrangement. Aki is smiling stupidly. He looks at you and then towards the horizon, as though he's still waiting for you to follow.

"You did all of this?" You sigh. "Aki, you didn't have to-"

"I know," Aki interrupts, soft and assured, far too tender. Of course he didn't have to, but this is what he wanted.

"Come here," He says, gesturing once more for you to follow. Your hands clutch the front of your shirt absently, but you trail close behind with unsteady steps. "Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a blanket?"

"I'm okay," You answer. You sit down on the log, awkwardly resting your hands in your lap. Aki swiftly sits down next to you, a foot or so of distance still kept in between.

You shake your head. "I'm not that cold."

"Alright. If you'd like one, just say the word."

Your heart pounds in your ears to a fervent melody. As you fiddle with your hands, you barely notice Aki reaching for the flowers that were resting on the other side of your homemade seat.

They're bundled delicately, stems secured by a thin piece of twine, tied into a messy attempt at a bow. Orchids. Exquisite white blooms, with petals splattered in shades of purple and pink. Your gaze catches on his, something unreadable but surely shy flashing in his expression. The sun's low light makes him look so warm. Aki's grip tightens on the stems, and he clears his throat quietly.

"I've wanted to show you this for far too long, now. And after you mentioned it yesterday, I thought this would be a good place to watch the sunset," He explains, his tone kept smooth, despite the unsureness to his movements as he sets the flowers in his lap. "Hold on-"

Aki chooses one of the smaller orchids. He pulls at the middle of the stem, breaking it off from the rest. Your gaze follows him, as he shifts closer, closing a few threads of distance between you. He reaches forwards, then up, tucking the flower behind your ear, his fingers brushing your jaw as he does so.

He smiles — a terribly soft, utterly lovesick smile. His fingertips linger on the side of your face for longer than they have to. He admires you, the wind pulling faintly at your hair, the flower's colorful bloom practically glowing in the vibrant light of the fading sun. You feel warm, down to your veins; you can hardly think, can't hear anything besides the pound of your own heart. Aki pulls away, his gaze still caught on you, and you find yourself missing the brush of his touch.

"You're so pretty." Aki breathes a low, calm breath. "Prettier than the sun."

Oh. In your vision, Aki seems to glow brightly, outlined by the blues and pinks of the sky. His unkempt bangs brush his eyes, his earrings twirling in the gentle wind. Your hands shake slightly when you take the bundle of flowers from him, your face feels warm — and he swears, more than the flowers, you seem to blossom. A smile crosses your features, fading into the faintest, most perfect laugh.

"You're ridiculous," You chide playfully, shaking your head. Holding the orchids in your lap, you brush your thumb over the soft petals of one of the blooms. You can feel the flower that rests behind your ear, tickling your face when the wind makes it rustle. "I can't believe you did all of this."

Aki hums, "It's nice though, isn't it? You can see the sky so clearly from here."

He's right. The moon is already visible — a thin crescent that plans to usher in the night to come. Crisp cool air fills your lungs with each breath, and as the sun dips lower, the horizon shimmers in fading shades of red. It's lovely on its own, but knowing Aki thought of you, planned this for you, has your mind in such a mess, you can hardly focus on the view.

Aki is no better. He rests his chin in his hand, his gaze on yours, his smile clumsy and endearing. The fading sun and the trees and the sky could never be as captivating as you.

You steal the smallest glance towards him, and when you see him still staring, your shoulders go slack with your light laughter. "You're not even watching…"

"Oh," Aki turns away, trying his hardest — and utterly failing — to hide his smile. "Yeah. I wasn't."

The sun blends into the distant sea of trees like butter melting on a skillet, and although he promised the opposite, Aki finds himself glancing at the sparkle in your gaze once more.

He rolls his shoulders backward. His voice sounds unsure when he speaks.

"I know this isn't much. But I hoped I could do something nice for you, to… I don't know." Aki sighs, struggling to put his words into place. "To thank you, for all the kindness you've shown me."

You glance towards him again, almost forming a rebuttal, but he promptly interrupts.

"And I know I didn't have to. None of this was necessary, I didn't have to do any of the things I've done. But you-" His hands are tense, and he squeezes his own fingers, trying to alleviate his growing tension. He seems so earnest, like his words are more than words, but shimmering stars simply begging to fall — "You deserve more than words could say. You're important. I thought this might be… something you'd find important, too."

Aki stalls, brushing his thumb over his own knuckles. You want to say so much, even though you're sure you shouldn't. Aki, it's lovely, this is beautiful. And this is so, so perfect. I can't remember the last time I felt so happy, if there was any time at all. But words come as stuck constellations whenever Aki has you like this; your heart skips, and you couldn't possibly pick out everything, you can only manage to utter some of them.

Your breathing wavers. "I'm important to you?"

Aki sighs, his gaze meeting yours. "You are everything to me."

Your heart thrums in your chest, iridescent in your throat, drumming firm against your ribs. You're speechless, for more than a few moments. The rest of the world — the shaking trees, the smoke billowing from your distant cottage, the dying sun — pleasantly fades away. Aki weakens, his expression soft and his voice gentle.

"And it's- it isn't just because you saved my life," He explains, "You are kind and thoughtful, and so, so special. There is so much I could tell you. Gods, every time I talk to you, the words- everything flows effortlessly. I've never felt that before. Not once."

Not once. Not with anyone. You shift, trying to catch your breath — trying not to let those words consume you.

Aki's hand rests at his side, mere inches away. His fingers nervously drum the rough wood.

"It's been a pleasure to share these days with you. To learn more about you, to talk and to just- to just be." He goes quiet, before he laughs, his gaze now focused on the distant view. You swear the lightest trace of pink dusts his face, his pointed ears. "You remember that word I taught you yesterday?"

You nod shallowly. "Ardentis." Your head tilts as you try to catch his wandering gaze again. "You aren't talking too much, though."

"Really?" Aki breathes a soft hum, almost in disbelief. "You did say you enjoyed the sound of my voice, once."

Once, and each time after. Your reply comes in the form of a slow, uneven breath, along with the subtle movement of your hand; until your pinky finger is able to brush his just slightly. Barely tender, nothing more than a faint touch, a silent promise. Still, you steady, savoring the feeling of him close to you, and melting in the heat of the thick, molten warmth inside your chest.

Glancing down, unable to face you, Aki hesitates for a fair stretch of time. You're barely able to catch the conflicted look on his features before he moves his hand away, like it'd been burned. His jaw clenches. Your hand craves more of his touch in his absence.

"That- that was too much, wasn't it?" His brows pinch, he almost sounds pained. "Maybe I should-"

He starts to stand, but you stop him halfway. You grab his hand and squeeze it tight — like the action is natural, like it isn't the first time you've tried this. His skin is soft, his palm is rough, his knuckles are ragged with crosshatches of scars. You refuse to let go, even as Aki follows your gaze, slowly sitting back down beside you.

"Don't go," You murmur simply. "Please."

Aki's expression goes terribly, dangerously soft. If you had planned to let go of him, if you hoped that your judgment could guide you and in the interest of caution, you would keep some distance — all of those ideas are rendered useless when he squeezes your hand back. Gentle yet firm, tight enough to make you think he never truly wanted to leave in the first place.

"Aki… I-" Oh, it's so much harder to talk when he's inches away, and when the only thing your mind and pounding heart can focus on is his hand in yours. His hand. You never want to let go. "There's so much I want to tell you, I just- I can't. I don't know if I ever can."

"You don't have to," Aki returns when you falter. "It's alright."

"I know, but I want to. I guess- I would miss you, if you left. So terribly. And-" You stop, sighing. Your bottom lip quivers, everything failing, converging, all of the feelings you shouldn't hold onto and the lies you've told; "I'm sorry."

Aki shakes his head, and softly coos, "You have nothing to apologize for."

You look away, glancing towards his hand in yours. Each inhale and exhale comes quick and sharp. The wind brushes the back of your neck, complimenting the heat that runs through your veins. Aki shifts. His hand is soft and warm, his palm is large, but his fingers are deft and delicate. When they lace with yours, fingers fitting perfectly between the gaps of your own, hands intertwining together, you can't help but wish they would forge. Like a stone statue. To always stay just like this.

"I would miss you more than you know," Aki admits, offering your hand a gentle squeeze. "The days have gone by so fast. It feels like I've hardly had a chance to savor them."

You nod. "I remember when we met. Like it was yesterday."

"Do you?" He smiles, exhaling with an ever-so slight laugh. It wasn't exactly the best introduction. "I was supposed to return to the kingdom that very same night. Ages ago, I should've been back. At every turn, I would tell myself… just a few more moments with you, and then I would leave. Just one more day. And now look at us."

"Oh," You glance back up at him. "Am I keeping you?"

"Of course not." Aki reaches up, and he doesn't hesitate to brush his free palm over your cheek, cupping it gently; the orchid's white petals tickle his fingertips. It takes everything within you not to lean into him. "It was my choice. Besides, I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

The silence that begins to stretch between you is long and thick. Glowing in hues of orange through the darkening sky, you're illuminated by the almost-set sun. Aki's thumb caresses your cheek, and you give in; leaning close, you sigh, you press your hand over his to keep it there.

"If we went to the kingdom," You start; your gaze flickers up to meet his, your words trying not to tremor. "What would we do?"

Aki answers, his tone low, "Whatever you want to do."

"I'd like to visit the sea. And the town square. And the grand library."

"Then let me take you there." Aki's voice is full of conviction, laced with an intensity that strongly shudders through you, "I can show you everything you want to see. I won't leave your side, if that's what you want. We'll make things work- I'll do whatever it takes. I promise."

The impossible odds you've let define you seem meaningless when you let your gaze flicker across him, trying to put the pieces he's given you into place. Instead of the orange in the sky, the green in the trees, the red on the horizon and the red that has painted the back of your vision since you learned how to speak, you see in shades of blue. You dream of the ocean — white waves and rocky seas underneath your fingertips, as you lose yourself in the blue of his gaze.

In every romance book you've ever read, the novels you busied yourself with when you summoned them instead of something factual — sometimes on accident, but then, on purpose — this is when the two main leads would tilt closer. This is when the knight would caress the princess' cheek, whispering how fortunate he is to be together once more. His eyes would flutter shut before they kissed, lips desperately crashing together like sinking ships. Like this is the last time they ever would.

You almost grow lost in those daydreams. Almost. Almost is far too risky of a word, when it is the only thing that separates you from dragging Aki close, running your fingertips along his jaw, and forgetting all reason to press your lips to his.

Thankfully, Aki slowly pulls away. He brushes your cheek one last time, before he shifts back, letting go of your hand. Recognizing the both of you might've grown carried away, you don't attempt to reach out again. You place your hands in your lap, and look elsewhere to catch the final glimpses of the sun's vibrant edge.

You feel cold now. It'd be wise to return home soon, before the forest gets too dark to navigate. Aki seems to have the same idea. Yet, even as you glance back to him to watch him stand, you can't seem to convince your own legs to move.

"Come on," He gathers the blankets he'd brought and keeps them under his arm, before he reaches to you, offering you his hand once more. "We should head back."

Like a book snapping closed, fluttery pages pressed back together, the moment lingers, but fades. You take his outstretched hand, and allow him to guide you to your feet. You grab the bundle of orchids, holding them in front of you, staring down at the dainty, delicate petals.

"But-" You look up. "What about…?"

Aki continues once you trail off. "Don't answer. Just think about it, okay?" He drapes one of the blankets over your shoulders, carefully wrapping it around you. His gaze focuses on his hands as he ties the ends together to keep it in place. "About your choice, or about where you'd like to go first. Whichever comes easiest to you."

For now, you can ponder neither of those. When you head down the hill together, leaving the sky behind, all you can think of is how you were definitely, most certainly wrong.

Sunsets must be your favorite.

—

The scarlet songbird takes her leave a few days later.

Her wing has healed, and she's grown strong enough to fly wherever she pleases. After eating her fill of seeds and enjoying the warmth of the fireplace one last time, she patiently waited until morning, before she drifted out the front door and into the forest, her red wings disappearing amongst the trees. She didn't return, even once nightfall came. You're thankful. Her life will continue, as it was always meant to.

Tonight, Aki had promised to collect firewood and start the fire outside, so it'd be ready by the time you were finished with dinner. The cottage is quiet with the absence of his voice and the bird's chirping. The orchids he'd given you rest in a vase on the dining room table. You take your ladle, and continue to stir the warm, nearly complete pot of stew. Then, you reach up and into the cupboard, searching for the seasoning.

You ran out with the last meal you prepared, but you always keep some extra in the very back. Standing on your tiptoes, you fumble blindly, making the various jars clink together as you try to find what you're looking for.

You grab one, unsure if it's the jar you're after. When you set it on the counter, you unfortunately realize it isn't. This was where you were storing your last few shavings of white hazel.

The thin, white leaves have begun to crumble due to age. They're much less potent like this. They should be safer to handle, but a dosage of this size would be much less effective.

Gently, you pop the lid on the jar. A soft, thick scent wafts from the contents, before disappearing almost immediately. The leaves would need to be ingested to serve their purpose. And it would take all of them, most likely. You'd only have one chance.

If you touched them, infusing them with your magic, you could make their effects much stronger. All you would need to do then is dish out the bowls — one for him, and one for you — before dropping all of them into his dish, stirring for a moment until they dissolve. White hazel is tasteless. Besides, Aki never wastes your cooking.

You could make Aki forget all about you. About everything you've told him, and everything that's happened here. He'd forget your cottage, and each moment you shared; they'd all be lost on him. Meeting you, your gentle touches as you brought him back to life. Your late night talks, your days spent growing closer. Everything would be gone, even up to the bird, and that fateful, sunlit, all-too tender evening.

You sigh.

Grabbing the jar, you stroll over to the fireplace. You kneel down to dump all of the leaves into the flames. They crisp up in mere seconds, before they fade away into nothing but dust and ash.

The sea would be nice to visit first. It's the one thing you've always wanted to explore, more than anything else. The sea, and the castle. Briefly, you wonder if visiting the royal castle would actually be a genuine possibility. With the benefit of his royal status, Aki might be able to get you in — perhaps in a few months to a year, depending on when he can get the both of you a party reservation. Oh, but for a royal party, you'd have nothing to wear. Would the shops in town sell dresses?

Maybe you should save your first visit to the sea for a more special occasion. You wouldn't want to go without Aki. Would the harbor look more beautiful at night, with the lighthouses and boats casting glittering lights that rival the stars, or in the morning, when everyone is yet to wake, allowing you to hear nothing but the calm lull of the waves?

Or perhaps, you should see it at sunset.

[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟗 | 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"He quiets you with the sound and your smile falls. You are captain of the guard all dressed in red, training squires on spring mornings. He is the king who rises at dawn to watch you."

cw suggestive, kissing among other things, tooth tongue saliva, fingers and lips, manhandling, grinding, disregarded injuries, an audience if you squint. a beleaguered team regroups in the castle underbelly and someone is a flight risk. yn is thrilled and itching to fight but her prince can't focus. he can't let her go 5.2k

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Autumn in Takoba is hell everywhere else and even with the first ticklings of sunrise, the cold is immeasurable. Like the queen made a deal with grief and now her country becomes her heart. You wake first, tucked and folded into the space between your prince’s chest and the wall.

Your comfort is found between groggy thoughts, in the rough blanket someone has wrapped you up with, and in Bakugou’s arm that falls over your waist to keep that warmth inside of it. He’s dreaming, muttering something into the back of your head. He smells like home. Even unconscious, his bicep strains through the effort of holding something gently.

The night returns to you in pieces under the pathetic white light of a candle sconce. Something nearby reeks of the sea. A single roll of your shoulder confirms the bandages there, crusted in stiff blood and still too sore to stifle a wince because you were something not quite war fodder. A golden hand flexes broad across your stomach when you fidget in the dark. You were a guest at the queen’s ball, you were target practice, you killed Takobans. You underestimated your bloodloss. You are falling through the air into Bakugou’s arms again, dancing, glowing, bleeding, clingy. The king embraces his undead son. The mage. You fly up to sitting so quickly the world cannot react to you.

Bakugou is curled around the space you left in the dark, bloody and spattered with ash. His own blanket is pulled up over his jaw to ward off the chill and behind him is Mina, cheek flush to his back. Blood crusts down her temple in a path from her hair.

Sweat has soaked into the two places the prince held you most closely and chills now in the free air, heat and damp from his breath at the nape of your neck and down the small of your back where his hips cradled yours all bundled in good-enough blankets. The sweat is welcomed, it is ammunition, it is warm, it’s proof of your still beating heart. Don’t need a fucking babysitter. Cover yourself. Quit starin’. Don’t call me that. Eyes! You are mine. His eyebrows flex and knit in the seconds before he wakes up, but he is safe and he is exhaustingly whole.

It stinks like ocean foam because this hallway where you shelter is in the bowels of the castle, deep in its belly, tucked under the kitchens where your prince hid from you for weeks. Damp stone, fire in the air, the memory of this hallway from over the prince’s shoulder. Of stepping through the only red door here and returning to Aldera.

“Y/n?” A voice floats in whispers through the dark and down the hallway from the dim light of another candle.

“Who's there?”

There’s no response, no time, before one golden hand is flat across your chest and your prince raises his other to the sound, bristling with sparks. Bakugou startles from sleep and pushes you behind him. Mina groans, rubbing the back of her head.

In the dark, damp, and cold, he is made of starlight. When your prince exhales, the frost from him is tinged with tiny sparks.

“Calm down, Sleeping Beauty.”

You realize as the prince does that the voice is Shinsou’s and in the momentary relief Bakugou swings on you. Even before the Takoban guard can emerge from the dark he turns, hands snapped around both your wrists, apprehending his criminal. Red eyes, breath of smoke and a growl, the boy who laughs when he dances is back at home and you are left with the prince who hates your company.

“You.”

A defiant breath falls from you but you don’t dare voice it. No longer hidden in sleep, his still-beautiful face is marred at the jaw, a red burn in the lopsided shape of a hand. You would take his cheeks up in your fingers if he weren’t holding you steadfast. You would take the head of the man who hurt him. Your prince tightens his grip. He is staring strong enough to brand his fury on the backs of your eyes and without his chest, without your blankets, the chill creeps in like a tide. 

“Selfish fucking–”

“You're injured,” you try to dip closer in inspection but Bakugou riots.

In the ballroom he clung to you, in the shadows he invited you close, in this hallway he is the sun of your orbit. He is fire. Your prince jerks a hand over your bandaged heart without much mind to your company and seethes, “You are reckless.”

“I am exceptional,” you breathe without thinking. He is the brightest, angriest thing in the sky. He is arora and you’re a girl in golden fields, staring. His fingers warm your breast where dragontooth used to perch. Does he not get it? “I will die for you.”

Too much and not enough, he is spiteful and aggressive and alive, and maybe now he hates you enough for Takoba to have been a dream.

“Where is our company?” You speak again, nerves itching.

“Think they’re lost without miss martyr?”

Mina swats at him but he doesn’t let you go. “What’s wrong with you?” He glows at the edges like you haven’t seen since the forest outside Takoba. Bakugou’s teeth are bared but his wrath is different than before. He’s not picking a fight, he’s not forcing himself free of you. Your prince holds you tight in front of him where you cannot hide. He stares.

“Highness, where are they?”

“In the castle,” Shinsou interjects. He points up with a finger when he approaches your little group and emerges from the shadows in odd pieces of armor– greaves, cuisses, and faulds but nothing other than light padding on his chest. He yawns and he is bloodspattered. He looks like Uraraka and your panic begins to rise.

“Highness?” You turn back to the scarred prince who will not release you. Kirishima is not nearby, Kaminari and Sero, Uraraka, Fuyumi– “There’s no time, we–”

“We? We don’t have to do anything,” he drops you gently even though he is angry and you shake out your shoulders on instinct. “You need to sit the fuck down for once in your life and trust someone without a stab wound to shovel this shit.”

The hallway is different than you remember, it is colder without your fever, it’s taller. Shinsou yawns again and behind him you can just make out mixed voices in the dark. Your prince is orange amber, molten honey, chip and shoulder. He does not rise but tosses blankets away towards you like he no longer needs comfort. Mina glares over his back.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“It’s almost dawn,” she replies, helpful, not so much like magma. “We escaped down here with a few others but–”

A sudden scraping door overhead forces your group to lurch towards the ground. Shinsou drops to a crouch, hand on sword, and creeps forwards into the dark. Bakugou isn’t far behind, a warning hand outstretched to try and keep you down. “Fear not soggy citizens,” a voice hisses from the source of the sound and Bakugou straightens immediately. “We’re back.”

“Took you long enough,” Shinsou is firm but fond and you and Mina creep behind your prince to peer deeper into the dark. The charred remains of her white gown are stiff with mixed blood. Who’s out there? A few shapes catch light from a sconce past Shinsou’s shoulder and you have never been so unarmed in your life. The prince refuses to let you in front of him.

The light ahead flickers when someone handles it. Prince Natsuo– dusty but alive, thank gods– is illuminated clearly for a moment as he takes a candle from its sconce and a pair of footsteps descend from the kitchen door above. Kaminari and Shinsou stride down the last stairs into their prince’s hidden hallway and beam over a bounty of bread baskets.

More candles are lit by the Takoban prince and the hallway is quickly not so dark and not so lonely. A handful of Takoban lords and ladies lay scattered at the edges of the hall, all deep in sleep. It’s difficult to navigate but you rush past a golden arm and towards the Alderan boys, rejoicefully free of blood, as quickly as you might without stepping on sleeping hands so that your relief doesn’t overflow in loud noises.

“Where were you?”

“Pantry mission.” Kaminari shrugs to hoist his bread basket high enough for you to see, “Food and rest..” he grins Alderan.

You finish, “build blood.”

Sero starts speaking over your shoulder and you turn to catch the briefing for your prince and the Takoban guard, “There were no combatants in the kitchens. A few shuffling feet from the dining hall when we checked under the doors, otherwise,” he hands his basket off to a bloody and impatient Mina, “otherwise, I think they must be patrolling the exits.”

Bakugou grunts and chews at his cheek. It’s not lost on you how pointedly everyone speaks over your head, like you would throw yourself onto the nearest broadsword if given the chance to fight. Though, if you could see the amount of blood in your bandages you might hesitate to speak to you too. The cloth is stiff with it even if you’re no longer bleeding, but the wound that pinned you to the floor, the poison that knocked you from consciousness, no longer grip you with their icy fingers and you thank Shuzenji. You’re sore not a war casualty. Your friends are being hunted upstairs. If it takes the general’s voice to be noticed, so be it.

“Where is the mage?”

Soldier Sero instinctively drops his head to speak to you, “No sign of him since last night.”

“No new fires,” adds Kaminari, “he could be anywhere.”

“Where is the doctor?” 

“You’re awake.” You turn to the new rasp from the floor. Screaming her son’s name once used up all her voice like a long night singing and Queen Rei is scorched at the edges, but alive, in a pile of rumpled skirts. She sits among her sleeping people as Natsuo lights a candle for her to hold, “The doctor is upstairs, I’m afraid.”

“Still with the princess?”

She stiffens but nods, “We can hope.”

If that’s the case, you can also hope that they’re being protected by the two champions you left them with. You speak as you turn, “How,” and Bakugou’s silent eyes are the first you catch, full of something, “are all these people still asleep?”

The group gestures to Shinsou in their own ways– Kaminari cocks his head, Sero points with a shoulder– “We couldn’t know who was friend or foe,” the apprentice clarifies of the civilians the group managed to collect on their way down to the safety of this underbelly. “We still don’t know. It’s not safe to keep them conscious with the queen, not while we have so many injured.”

“How do we proceed?”

The group hums for a moment before Sero clears his throat, “We can’t escape with a group this big,” he looks to the bodies littered and pushed to the sides of the hallway, “we could be caught and with so few fighters, with so many injuries…we’d have to send a scout ahead and Shinsou’s the only one here besides His Highness and Her Majesty who knows this castle well enough to outsmart turncoat guards.”

Your ears perk at the claim and your prince bristles. Takobans are not the only ones here who have memorized cold hallways.

Kaminari interjects, “But without Shinsou here to keep the civilians out cold, if a potential traitor wakes up–”

“Worse– if the scout is caught upstairs with no way to communicate– overwhelmed in numbers– gods forbid the mage– we don’t know what weapons they have up there but we have to assume that it’s, it’s everything.”

No help’s come yet,” Mina adds to Sero’s point and drops to a seat on the cold floor to eat.

“So assume none will,” you exhale and she shrugs in agreement. You nod a few times and review your company. They are battered, all of them, and your breath inflates frost in stubborn puffs. Assume every enemy is dressed in Takoba’s full armory, how many survived the night? How many know about this secret Alderan hallway?

If the royals stay hidden here, Shinsou must stay too. Two exits, one to the kitchens and the other straight out to the beach where any mage worth their magic would keep a close eye. Too open. The only way is up, and more accurately, through. “We just need contact with the outside. Reinforcements.”

“Blasty could get out no problem, but we have to assume guards stationed in the city are working for the mage too.”

“Can we get word to Aldera? Another kingdom nearby?” Kaminari speaks with his hands like he’s grasping at thoughts “Carrier pigeon?”

“Not how those work.” You massage your knuckles with your thumbs, “We need the doctor.”

Mina’s magic hasn’t returned, what about Aizawa? Is Hawks alive? This party isn’t enough without the doctor’s magic, You need Kirishima and Uraraka, and the youngest Todoroki prince and his champion if you could manage it. Where is the useless king?

“If there were no injuries what would the plan be?” You roll your sore shoulder back and then freeze. There’s a weight under your bandages.

“Kill a mage, call for help, go the fuck home,” Mina grumbles with a moutful of bread. She rifles through Sero’s basket to find the softest pieces. Rolls are tossed to conscious members of the party, fresh and sweet, and you catch Bakugou’s eyes once more. His clenched fists give off the faintest popping. The prince you know wouldn’t be so quiet, he wouldn’t let his friends– wouldn’t let anyone– venture into the dangers of the castle without him.

“Highness?” you attempt as Mina pelts him with a pandemain. “Are you injured?”

Mina raises her hand, “I’m injured.”

The question unbalances Bakugou who simmers behind you, but he redirects his anger quickly enough with a gnash of rations. His burn almost glows under his jaw. “Course not, you are.”

“It’s my job to be injured, sir. What are your orders?”

He snaps forward but you are already palming your bandages. It’s still there. He glows in the remnants of his formalwear, stripped down to a bloody undershirt and charred white trousers. He glows in anger, he glows with something you don’t recognize and the prince who hates your company thrills you once more. You will kill the mage and you will take him home. You press your fingers to the shape tucked between your bandages like holding a hand over your heart.

“Then, I request an audience with His Highness Bakugou Katsuki.”

Hell can’t deny you. Bakugou reluctantly marches you down the dark hall and curses Alderan pride. A prince would never refuse his general’s audience.

You’re walking well, your breathing is even. He clenches his jaw instead of picturing the last time you came to his room, half on his back, half in his arms, all saltwater and sweat heartbroken with fever. The braids you keep neat at home fray in Takoba. The remains of your red dress are eaten black with burns and you are more phoenix than dragon ahead of him in this hellish castle.

“In,” he grunts when the red door is finally in front of you, “quietly.”

You turn around to confirm, turn into his chest and look up at him with those horrible eyes he loves to see watching. He rolls his own and pushes you both inside.

The air is iron with blood. You startle the second you enter because Captain Hawks is sprawled sideways on the bed under furs, back exposed to the cold air without life in the fireplace. His wings, wings, are a collection of odd scorched feathers protruding from his spine like boney fingers and a few feathers litter the pillows keeping him turned on his side.

They did their best posting him up after carrying him from the party, but even Bakugou concedes the scene is grim.

Candles are lit at intervals around the room, a few on the mantle and a dozen around the floor on mismatched candlesticks. Furs and tapestries are nailed over windows so that the light can’t be seen from outside. Aldera is three days away, home is only three days away and he can’t even get his people outside of the city gates– outside of the castle.

You take a deep breath and face him, “What’s your–” But he can’t let you speak.

“You’re not fighting. No more, you are completely reckless.”

“Me?” You almost snort. He tries not to let your amusement warm him, not an ember, not a spark. You begin fingering through your bandages again and he instinctively reaches to stop you. “You are not my queen to be doling out orders like that.”

“Stay here.”

“You are my job,” your voice staggers a bit when his hands take up yours to keep them from pulling at your bandages but you stare through surprise with glinting, obsidian eyes, “my purpose.”

Will you stay when this is over?

Bakugou is a cocky brawler on his first day of training with Jeanist and you are lugging weapons to the Keep. He is suffering through class and you are just outside the window, rushing to your lessons still trailing smoke and dragonfire. He is kneading dough before the holiday feast in roaring kitchens and you are armed, halberd and crossbow over your shoulder, collecting a plate the cooks put aside for you.You are supposed to be sleeping. He is supposed to be sleeping. You are both pretending to watch the stars and not each other in the library at midnight.

You stare through him and Bakugou stares at you in the candlelit chill of this makeshift bedroom. “Who mended your cape, Highness?”

He furrows both brows and sighs. He won’t win, “A friend.”

You’re smiling now which he should hate and in one jerk of your arm you tear a strip of bandage free. Dust of blood and the crack of its cast make him wince, but under the red material, soaked pink from your wound, is a small stitched square, a repair date, and a family seal. Yaoyorozu. “The traveling merchants Yaoyorozu don’t only mend capes.”

“And?” Of course they don’t. They’re the richest family on the continent, engineers, the lot of them.

“This seal is on half the tonics in the potions closet and on half more in the pantry. Weapons, clothing, ammunition–”

He stops you talking with a shake of his head and winces again when you rip another bandage free, “Will you stop it!”

“Aldera couldn’t study dragons without the tools that family designed– Takoba would succumb to winter every year without their insulation, without one of their boats in port. They are ubiquitous.” You continue unwrapping yourself, bare skin becoming raw scar until a piece of glass glints under the last of the wrappings. You tug it free before the stiff bandages even fall, and press it into Bakugou’s chest.

The glass is warm with the heat of your heart and you beam so close to him. He studies you. His hand closes over yours.

“Highness, we can fight with this. We can fight the mage and what we have left we’ll bring home. The Yaoyorozus can engineer something to reverse the effects– we have allies– not just them, we aren’t– aren’t–” You are swelling with Alderan fire, a pot boiling over, a hound, a dragon, a phoenix itching to fight. When you smile for bloodlust it is even more beautiful. He doesn’t know he is holding you until you stop speaking.

Bakugou cups both of your cheeks as you offer up the mage’s stolen vial of poison. You are formidable. You are terrifying. He holds you like you might go out candlefast in a breeze.

“We can still–”

“Y/n,” he quiets you with the sound and your smile falls. You are captain of the guard all dressed in red, training squires on spring mornings. He is the king who rises at dawn to watch you. “Thank you.”

The corner of your bodice has been cut away to expose your wound for the doctor and it is raw at its edges so close to your heart. Your collarbone shines with the new and mended skin there. Another scar from a wound that might have killed you, another injury you took in his place. You are reckless but that’s not the problem. Maybe derealization will hit Aldera after you die. Did you outsmart the ghost even as you were being raised from the dead?

“Highness–”

“Don’t.” Bakugou traces the shape of your pulse with his thumbs, “Don’t call me that.”

He’s hardly thought about home since you laughed with him on the catwalks. Since he gave you his hands to do what you’d like with and you told him they make something beautiful. He always thought he might not be able to hold things gently. He knows it’s hard, he knows his hands are meant to break and burst and destroy, but you are a relief. Your hands can kill, they can catch, they fold laundry, they break joints, and they tremble when sparks run through them.

“I don’t–”

“Anything but that, anything. Asshole, coward–” he wants to be upset with you, it is easier when you hate him. It is easier to fight.

“Bakugou.”

Closer. He knows there’s no time but he wants to be closer. You clutch the vial tight in one hand and rest the other over his bloodstained heart. He can feel your heartbeat in the curve of your jaw with his clumsy, heavy fingers. He shakes his head.

“..Katsuki,” you murmur, and he kisses you. You who are just like him.

Your back finds a wall smoothly this time when he dips low to catch your lips with his. There is no desperate grabbing, no stumbling, tripping, every push of his tongue against yours is deep and slow and starving. Your hand cups his chest in both protest and invitation, somehow you are scalding, somehow you are hungrier.

There is a thank you that chases every parting of your lips for everything he owes you. He owes you two lifetimes and a spar. More than that. He presses deeper. Blood flakes from his blond hair when your fingers rake through it and you pull just enough to make him growl.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps in correction. He holds your head in his hands like a gentle promise even as his bones break themselves to be closer.

You manage, “wait,” through the pause and when he jerks back you are no longer the nervous soldier crying in cold hallways. He is nervous, he is trembling, you are something else, something black and infinite. You lower your hand to his cheek and stare almost too close to see him clearly. The hand that kills becomes soft fingers that drift over his temple and push his shaggy hair from his eyes. You watch every part of him. Your eyes and fingers make shapes of his face as he stands above you, as he submits to your touch happily.

What else can he kiss from you? What will you offer him? Breath and tears, he wants more. Memories, exhaustion, boredom, tell him more about yourself, favorites and enemies, show him more tragedy, selfishness, joy. Take him to study dragons, not your soldiers, not your queen.

Your knuckle ghosts his burn and catches the swell of his lip and the wet there. Time be damned, blue mages, civilians, home and hell wait for you. He rumbles somewhere deep in his chest when your thumb presses just slightly harder, your breath catching, at the soft pink flesh and the tongue that darts out to wet you. Bakugou kisses the tip of your finger, again, again, you swipe saliva under your thumb and he kisses you there, again until you can’t take it anymore and lean forward to taste him. He has no such patience. Your prince takes your jaw back up between his fingers and molds his lips to yours like he might give his life to you. You knock hard against the wall and push against him with just as much force so that he must knock you back again to keep you where he needs you.

More of this, more of your greed, more of your desperation stolen in gasps, more of your body fitting perfectly into his hands. You pull at the neck of his undershirt, nails catching flesh. He’ll praise you. He’ll watch you. He only wanted to kiss you. He doesn’t know what it is to want, to be close to someone he needs to keep.

He can’t push any closer– chest to yours, legs between– you inhale sharply when he rolls too deep and he wants to apologize again but you arch your hips higher on instinct. It almost tips his head back. He thinks he says your name. You press warm and shaky against the thigh that pins you to the door while your lips keep him close, bobbing between sloppy presses and a tongue kneading wet against his. The friction of your hips stutters the yawning starving kisses. Where does he hold you? Sweat collects between his knuckles, the excitement soaks through him, you’re alive you’re alive, he grasps you under your thighs and up into his arms.

The pressure is worse here, you are a fire against the rawest parts of him. He catches your throat with his teeth in your surprise above him and lays as many kisses up your pulse as you will let him before cupping his stinging jaw back up where you want it.

He wants to dance with you. You nip where he offers himself, tongue and lip and neck, because your thrill never left you. He wants to fight, he wants to blow out all the candles and make magic for you in the dark. Bare, his shoulders beg you to find hold there, to grasp and scratch, draw blood, breathe fire, don’t let go of him. The swell of your thighs is unbearable in his palms. Your tattered dress parts for him– your damp flesh vibrates with his magic and he wants to sink so deeply inside of you– it is the only thing can could heal this ache, the one thing to make it worse. He wants to hear just one noise. Who taught you not to make a sound? Why can’t he stay quiet?

“Highness,” you breathe. He will break you of that habit, “Highness, I–”

He grunts the low sound of a question and pulls wet away from your kiss in strings of desperation. He wasn’t– he isn’t thinking. Bakugou loses half his halfgone composure when you stare into him with huge, burning eyes and bring an embarrassed palm up to your lips. His ears catch fire. Immediately he knows both of his cheeks and half of his chest are lost to flush. A chill through the air makes you shiver in his arms, back to the door, and he shudders, his own eyes widening at the crease of your brows and the sound you bite back.

“Your shoulder.” He blinks a thousand more times than necessary, “you–you’re– injury.” He almost drops you, almost falls over. Bakugou lets you to your feet– your braids catch on the wooden door above your startled bonfire eyes and it is too much the picture of you, laid out under him in half-torn clothes, overheating, breathless– inside, let me have you, hips grinding through this heat until–

“Highness,” a different voice drawls from the dark. It kills the thought and the silence of the room so suddenly both of Bakugou’s palms ignite in plumes of violet on either side of you. “Please,” Hawks groans, suffocating, into the Alderan pillows propping him up on the bed, “don’t fuck in here.”

“You’re awake!” You gasp because there’s nothing else to say.

“Not on purpose.”

Your prince cannot form a thought. He’s never had– never wanted the things he wants from you. He’s never been distracted from a fight. You begin patting yourself down, searching for a place to tuck the vial, settling the layers of your dress, pushing your hair back where you like it to lay, clearing your throat, catching your breath.

“Did I hear right?” Hawks grumbles again and the prince prepares to escape the end of the sentence, but both captains continue, “you need a Takoban scout?”

“You’re hardly fit enough for that.” Your tone is all disbelief but excitement shows through your embarrassment and he hates how readily you offer up all those sanguinary thoughts. Bakugou shakes his hair down from where you pushed it. He wipes his face with the back of a fist and sucks his teeth.

You will dive into the castle, you will cut down soldiers and dancers, and you will be killed by the mage before he can get you home all because you made a promise to a queen who is not here. He dreaded this. He should have taken Sero as his second. Kaminari would have done, why didn’t he just leave you?

“Can you walk?”

“I sure can’t fly.”

Bakugou bursts, all blush and bitten lips, “Neither of you are fit for reconnaissance and both of you will heel. We don’t have time to limp through the castle.”

You snap around, bright eyes, teeth shining, possessive and kiss swollen and wild. You turn to fight and then there is a crash. You are between your prince and the thrown open door faster than that injury should have let you.

He has half a mind to toss you over his shoulder when a blast of air so frozen it takes form, shatters through both of you in the doorway. You’re quick to bear through it and without waiting to cover Hawks’s hiding place you’re both down the dark hallway, longing, starvation, wet and warmth left behind you. The damp of the hall freezes over completely underfoot.

“Enemy?” You bark, death to stealth.

“The queen!”

The dim light of your meeting place is more pathetic than before, now that candles are dashed and sconces are punctured in awkward icy stalagmites. Mina and Kaminari are picking themselves up off the floor as their captain and prince race forward. Sero has Natsuo under the arm, “Shinsou.”

He throws his gaze over your shoulder to the wall in horror and you turn to follow it, past shining cobblestones, over clouds of breath to the Takoban guard, pinned half up the wall in a crashing wave of ice. Most of both legs and half his hip are trapped in the tide, leaving enough of his torso free to breathe easy. “She’s,” he grunts, thrashing against his restraints, “she’s escaped.”

Bakugou should hate the look on your face but he knows he looks much the same. Thrill makes you glow like he hasn’t seen in a long, long time.

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[captain-hawks]

DELICATE.

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

The Mage of Nekoma visits your bedchamber by moonlight after weeks spent away from the castle.

wc: 2.2k tags: 18+ only, fantasy au, princess!reader, mage!kuroo, forbidden relationship, feels, fingering, mirror sex, unprotected sex, creampie -> requested

“Princess.”

Startling, you whip around from your place in front of the tall, gilded mirror to find an unexpected visitor casually leaning against the wall, the door to your chambers left slightly ajar.

“Kuroo,” you breathe out in surprise, eyes going wide, heart stumbling clumsily in your chest.

Your father ordered the mage off on a treacherous mission in enemy territory three weeks ago. Three long, arduous weeks that have left you fraught with worry, pacing your rooms late into the evening by the glow of candlelight. A small, haphazard pile of books sits on the window sill, evidence of your long hours spent perched there anxiously waiting for signs of a rider approaching the palace gates. 

Left to agonize over his absence in secret, your handmaidens were convinced you had fallen ill as you quietly moved through the castle like a ghost for days on end. 

Tension leaves your body in waves as you drink in the sight of him, alive and unharmed, save for a fading bruise on his jaw and a cut on his cheek. But the dark circles under his eyes betray the easy smile on his face—he must have just arrived and immediately sought you out, rather than retiring for the evening first. 

He pushes off of the brick to stride toward you, one hand subtly flicking backward, and the dancing shadows of torchlight from the hall beyond disappear as the large wooden door quietly clicks shut. 

“Is it Kuroo now again?” he asks. 

His hazel eyes flicker with the rest of the questions he leaves unasked—

Have you grown tired of this? Of him?

Has Prince Daichi finally asked for your hand?

Has this fool’s charade run its course?

You step toward him—and he waits. 

Because for as much as much power as the Mage of Nekoma wields, for all the old, rich magick that hums from the soil of the earth into the grasp of his fingertips—

This is your choice. 

“Tetsurou,” you whisper, chin wobbling as your eyes begin to sting with the threat of tears. 

He will always be your choice. 

His embrace is warm like nothing else can ever hope to be, steady in a way that settles the trembling of your knees and the knocking of your heart. 

It is nothing like the efficient sweep of your handmaidens’ palms over the wrinkles in your skirts or the weight of your father’s heavy hand atop your shoulder. 

It is not the brush of a prince’s lips against your knuckles or the physician’s gnarled fingertips at your temple.  

His touch is deliberate and familiar and all-consuming, a torch at the pyre beneath your ribcage that sets your heart strings alight. 

Tetsurou holds you like he knows you. 

Like he knows all that you’ve been, everything you are, what you’re still yet to be.

Warmth seeps deep into your bones, 

You wonder sometimes if he’s aware of the way his magick sinks into you when you meet, soft, tickling tendrils that wrap around your ribcage like the vines that climb the western palace walls. It’s a tender feeling that bleeds freely into the marrow of your bones, that leaves your nerves washed gold and humming with energy. 

It rolls around inside of you like a lazy feline in the afternoon sun, belly up with trust. 

Lips buried in your hair, he murmurs your name, the sound of it on his tongue lovelier than the most divine of incantations. 

“I was worried that—“ you inhale sharply, throat tight. 

“I’m here,” he assures you, calloused thumb drifting against the hinge of your jaw. 

Tetsurou’s lips are soft against yours when he takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You dig your fingers in the front of his cloak, tears sliding down your cheeks as the side of his nose tenderly grazes yours. He drags his lips over the damp trails, hazel eyes meeting yours once more. 

“I’m here,” he says again, though you’re not certain if it’s to you or himself this time. 

A small laugh bubbles up out of you, the roiling emotions in your gut capsizing under the trajectory of his steady gaze. 

“You’re here.”

Tetsurou smiles. 

Nudging you back toward the ornate mirror, he tells you to turn around. You watch as he reaches into a pocket, pulling out a delicate golden chain. 

“I know you won’t be able to wear it out and about, but—“

Your heart flutters. 

“Put it on me, please.”

Tetsurou offers you a boyish, lopsided smile, the same one he gives you when you insist he spell your chamber door shut and remain in your bed late into the morning.

The one he gives when you tell him you’d sooner flee the country with him on horseback with nothing but a satchel, rather than be forced to let another man take your hand on the basis of status and decorum alone. 

Deft fingers brush over the nape of your neck, and you shiver at the sensation, watching as the chain comes to rest at the base of your throat. 

A tiny, sparkling ruby dangles at the center, and something tender rouses inside of you as you think of the similar red gemstone that dwells in the golden band that never leaves the middle finger of Tetsurou’s right hand. 

He catches you staring at said ring. “You don’t have to wear it if—“

“It’s perfect.” You cover his hand with your own, lacing your fingers together. “Thank you.”

Tetsurou grins, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Now the real question is, why are you still awake and dressed at this hour?”

Letting your head fall back against him, you sigh. “I told the handmaids I could manage on my own tonight, but now I can’t get this damned dress off.”

Thumb pressed against the small of your back, he asks, “Would you like some help then, my Lady?”

You roll your eyes fondly at the title. “I beg of you, sir. I ask you most ardently to employ the diligent use of the arcane to—“

Your words die on your lips as a pleasant, tingling feeling washes over you, your dress softly falling to the floor, the complicated hooks and ties giving way under the command of Tetsurou’s magick. 

Left only in the gauzy fabric of your shift, you look at him in the mirror, lips pursed playfully. 

“What ever would my father say if he knew what blasphemy the Mage of Nekoma wields his power for in the Princess’ bedchamber?”

Tetsurou’s breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he leans in. “What would the court say if they knew how their lovely Princess writhes and begs under the unbecoming touch of his mana?”

Your shift joins your dress on the floor, leaving you bare save for the necklace. 

“One should only be so lucky to know the feeling,” you whisper, cupping the hand currently tracing your jaw and pressing a kiss to his palm. 

“One should only be so lucky to witness it,” Tetsurou rasps back, tilting your chin to redirect your gaze back to your reflection as he traces the curves of your breasts. 

His hand slides down your chest, past your belly button, coming to rest in the valley between your upper thighs. 

He stares at you while he carefully moves his thumb across your clit, toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves as it swells and begins to throb. You watch him dip lower, two digits slotting into the slick heat of your folds, gliding wetly in your damp arousal. 

The touch of Tetsurou’s fingers here is a familiar pleasure, one that’s sent you toppling over the edge and moaning helplessly into the curve of his shoulder many times over. 

But it’s a wholly new experience to watch as he does it, to see the way his eyes darken as glistening arousal slides down the inside of your thighs. To see his thick fingers disappear as he sinks one, then two into the tight heat of your cunt. 

You moan, letting your weight fall back against his chest. 

“No amount of coin in my pocket could rival this luck, this fortune,” he breathes out, voice rough. “No title nor kingdom, not in this realm or the next.”

Tetsurou groans when you reach backward, fingers threading in his black hair, leaving the strands haphazard and mussed as you tug. 

He cups your breast, thumb dragging pointed circles over your pebbled nipple. Fire licks its way into your gut, your back arching with each subsequent plunge of his fingers into your slick entrance. A lewd, squelching sound fills the room, accompanied by your soft, breathy moans. 

A hand turns your drifting focus back to the mirror, where you tremble lust drunk in the carefully sculpted golden frame. And even with his fingers busy caressing the side of your neck while his other hand strokes your plush inner walls, a sensation seeps over your swollen breasts. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, a whine whistles up your throat as Tetsurou’s magick strokes them with the ghost of a touch. 

“Tetsu, please,” you gasp, all at once feeling woefully underfilled as your desperation blooms white-hot. 

His cloak slips from his shoulders, pooling on the floor, and you find yourself greedily drinking in the flash of his chest from the loose ties of his tunic. He shrugs off the black material as well, and it’s a battle in and of itself to resist the urge to spin around and trace your fingers over the carefully inked runes that permanently adorn his skin. It’s a ritual—the way you trace your fingers over the shapes, the way his eyes fall shut as you kiss the one that sits atop the jagged scar on his collarbone. 

There’ll be time for that later, beneath the whisper of moonlight that yawns through the glass panes as you lie tangled beneath the sheets. 

He hardly has his cock out of his trousers before you’re pressing back against him, too needy and impatient from  weeks spent apart. 

“Lean forward,” he murmurs, guiding you to grasp the edges of the mirror on either side. 

A thrill races up your spine as you look at your reflection, watching the reverent way he slides his palms over the globes of your ass. He gently nudges your legs further apart, one hand coming to rest at your hip as he slowly drags his length against your folds. 

Notching the head of his shaft at your entrance, he pointedly locks eyes with you before he begins to sink into your tight hole. Inch by inch, the pleasure inside of you expands rapidly until you can hardly breath, your cunt aching with the satisfaction of being filled so very deep. 

Despite all of the times you’ve looked into Tetsurou’s eyes while he beds you, it’s a wholly new experience here as you grasp the mirror and meet his lust-filled gaze. He makes you feel wanted and desired like nothing and no one else, but to see it reflected back in this gilded frame now like a spectator leaves you dizzy under a heady, abrupt wave of carnal desire. 

“Tetsurou,” you moan, careless of your volume since the day he spelled your walls blessedly silent. 

Stars prick behind your eyes as he rolls his hips into yours, his cock sinking deep into the damp heat of your cunt, gripped tight by your walls with each push and drag. 

Your fingers ache from how hard you’re clinging to the mirror now. Tetsurou groans, his own hands wrapped around your hips. Your toes curl tightly against the carpet when he buries his cock to the hilt, folding his body over yours and pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses to your back. 

“Harder,” you breathe out, a need, a plea. 

Tetsurou obliges, your sweat slick skin sliding against his as he begins to roughly pound into you. Your legs start to shake as you lose your grip on the searing feeling that’s been steadily building up in your abdomen. The tender caress of his magick spreads in your veins between one breath and the next, stablizing your trembling limbs. 

And then the pleasure inside of you explodes. 

Your climax punches through you like a northern gale, and Tetsurou’s name is a moaning sob on your lips as you slip past your melting point into a euphoric daze. Thick, hot ropes of cum spill into your tight channel a breath later as his cock pulses with his own release, your cunt milking him dry.

You hardly remember Tetsurou cleaning you up and carrying you to bed after, save for the warmth of his body curled around yours while you slipped into your first restful sleep in over a fortnight. 

When you wake the next morning, the mage is regretfully gone with duties to attend following his return. 

But a single red flower sits waiting in a vase on the window sill. 

An early winter frost creeps its way across the glass panes, a stark contrast to the vibrant life that remains in that single clipping.

Tetsurou told you once that the care of flowers is a delicate magick, for one must cherish each petal. 

[baldurs-gape]

Worry Worms

A little shared fact about the party was that the worms were in communication with each other. Even with the Emperor's protection, the group were bound in a way, their worms connected to each other. Sometimes it was awkward, other times funny and sometimes frustrating. Yet the worst were the moments where flashes of the past and the pain it held flashed through the group.

The first signs of a shared existence were the pang of hunger. It wasn't obvious to start with, everyone migrated to the supply packs for snacks and ate with more gusto. Yet the hunger was left unsated. Bickering turned to annoyed disagreements and huffy sulks. Lae'zel refused to even look at Shadowheart over the simple fact that the berries they'd had stashed away were now mixed with nuts.

"Perhaps we ought to ask Astarion to feed?" Wyll muttered to Karlach quietly. "It's driving me insane."

"Urgh, yes. I can't eat another mouthful but I'm still starving. Is this what being a vampire is like?"

"Like what?" Astarion sauntered up to them, thumb rubbing at the corner of his mouth as though wiping away the last dribbles of blood after feeding.

An awkward silence held them all in suspense until Wyll cleared his throat. "This hunger. Is this your day to day experience?"

Of all the thing they expected, an honest laugh was not on the list. Astarion wasn't even mocking them, he was genuinely tickled by the question.

"Darling, this hunger isn't mine. It has been dogging me as much as you by the sounds of it."

Which just left one real suspect. The one who had been most graceful at handling the sudden affliction. That evening Gale sheepishly admitted to his affliction. Once he'd consumed a locket, the hunger faded from all their minds.

If only things could be as simple. For a while it seemed like it was. The weather was gorgeous, sun bright and hot. It burned fiercely as they wandered along their path. Armour was slowly stripped, so were clothes where possible. Any stream they crossed, most of them dipped into it with sighs of relief.

"It's hot as the hells themselves." Wyll was neck deep in a clear pool, eyes closed and head tipped back.

Looking around at the various states of undress and sweatiness, Karlach gnawed at her bottom lip.

"Literally. The old engine's been getting a bit too much. My bad."

"This is your doing?" Astarion whirled to look at her. "I haven't felt like this in two hundred years!" Despite not sweating like the others, his hair looked a little lacklustre and flat compared to its usual near-perfection.

"As I said-"

"Don't. I've missed this. Don't change."

Karlach's mouth snapped shut as she nodded and made a mental note to maybe linger closer to Astarion on nights where he looked more cold and alone.

Their adventures carried on. They bore the shared echoes of neck pain and head aches as Wyll got used to his new horns. Gale's mage hand was perfect to for those who preferred not to be touched and Karlach was more than happy to put her rather warm hands to good use too. Given her own horn, she was all too familiar with what muscles could cramp and hurt. Wyll was especially grateful for such knowledge.

Along the way they collected Halsin who was more than happy to tag along on the quest. Nobody was tactless enough to mention how he and Astarion gravitated towards each other, circling in tighter and tigther circles. They all pretended to believe Halsin's reasons were purely altruistic and maybe with a small amount of desire to learn. Nor did anyone mention that Astarion's tent had a tendency to be set up and then abandoned as he spent nights in Halsin's. It was a small comfort and they all knew they needed as much of that as they could get.

Nights tended to be rather monotonous. Once dinner had been eaten, they all drifted off to their respective tents for rest. Sleep came easy enough, so did the nightmares. Flashes of pain and terror. Revulsion and depseration. Hopelessness that hollowed out everything which was only filled by fear tamped rage. Lae'zel was the first to wake, cursing Shar and all she made her followers endure. Determined to wake Shadowheart, she left her tent. Only, Shadowheart was already by the dwindling fire, haggard and scratching at her back.

"Is this not the doing of your goddess?"

"She's much more thorough in taking the memories." The disdain in Shadowheart's voice was a blanket to hide her own discomfort. While awake, the flashes from the worm were no less distressing but the light of the fire helped a little.

"So who-"

Gale stumbled out of his tent and retched as a particularly sordid kind of pain echoed through them all. They all shivered in unison at it.

"We need to wake him." Even as he spoke, the worm allowed more memories to play out in their minds. "He wouldn't want us to know this."

"I don't want to know this," Karlach's voice joined. Next to her, Wyll looked harrowed.

As one they traipsed to the edge of camp where Halsin's tent had been set up. He was dozing, curled around Astarion with a smile on his lips.

"Hush, he's finally trancing." Warm pride made Halsin's words drip with affection. "Said he'd not done it since before being turned."

"With good reason. Wake him up." Wyll winced as new pains from relieved memories curled through him.

Resisting, Halsin watched the group and pulled Astarion into a protective embrace. The broke 'please' from Gale was what did it in the end.

It didn't take much more than a gentle brush of lips to his forehead and Astarion blinked awake. His worm silenced but not before a flash of panic could be felt by all as he stared up at the gathered group.

"I know I'm in high demand, but could we keep it to one or two at a time so I can make sure you all have a good time?"

If only it had been a joke. Before it would have been taken as one. Now though, the truth of his fawning in face of fear was all too easy to see.

"We just-" Gale seemed at a loss for words.

"They wanted to wish you a good night," Halsin helped out, even though he still wasn't quite sure what was going on. "And to make sure you're okay."

Tight blankness smoothed out Astarion's expression. He knew the others saw the memories his trance he brought to life. "Was I-" breaking off, he steeled himself, "Did I make noise to wake you all?"

"You were very peaceful, little heart." Halsin smiled at him and tucked him back against his chest. "Rest some more. I'm sure the rest of this conversation can wait until the morning."

Dismissed, the others filed out of the tent. They didn't sleep easy, kept up by the nightmare fuel of what they'd seen. At least Astarion didn't trance again so no more memories bled through into their shared connection. Come morning, nobody said anything. But if they were a little more gentle with Astarion after that, that was their own business and nobody else's.

[intheticklecloset]

Intimate (Black Clover)

Summary: Leo accidentally hurts Yuno during a sparring match. While assessing the damage, he also accidentally discovers something rather adorable about the boy he likes.

A/N: This one is especially for @giggly-squiggily! I must admit, to this day this remains my favorite YunLeo piece I've written for you. I hope you enjoy it as well, friend! 💖

Word Count: 1353

~~~

Leo sprinted toward the heap on the ground. “Yuno! Oh my gosh, did I hurt you?”

The wind mage stifled a groan as he pushed up onto his knees. “Of course not. Takes more than that to knock me down. Ouch!” As soon as he put weight on his right knee, a sharp pain jolted through his body and he rolled over so he was sitting instead of kneeling, gritting his teeth. “I’m fine.”

“You are not! I hurt you!” Leo looked distraught, and it only made Yuno more determined to appear strong for him. The redhead knelt beside him. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine—” Yuno trailed off, his words abandoning him when Leo traced his fingers along his knee in a gentle caress. He swallowed.

Leo gave the tiniest squeeze, trying to determine how bad he’d screwed up, and Yuno jerked and let out a gasp, yanking his leg away. “Gods, Yuno, I’m so sorry. Let me see how bad it is.”

Yuno shied away from him. “N-No! It’s fine! I’m fine, just…don’t worry about it. I can always see Mimosa.”

Something flashed in Leo’s eyes and he frowned. “I want to take care of you too, you know.”

“I…uh,” Yuno stammered.

“Please, let me help.”

Well…crap. The wind mage swallowed again but nodded hesitantly, allowing Leo to grab onto his knee and press in gently, searching for the source of the pain. Yuno grunted and slapped a hand over his mouth, scrunching his eyes shut in a way that made Leo’s heart ache.

“I’m sorry,” the fire mage said again, his voice quieter now.

“I’m fine, I’m really fine,” Yuno insisted behind his hand.

It was only then that Leo noticed how red his cheeks were. “Yuno?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you…blushing?”

“No!” The reply was fast – way too fast.

Leo blinked, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Ooh, I got you flustered? How did I do that?”

Yuno scrambled for an answer. “Y-You…you’re caressing my leg like we’re…” He would not say lovers. He would not. “It’s…kind of intimate…”

“Ah.” Leo withdrew his hand and nodded. “Right…sorry.”

“I mean, I don’t…don’t mind,” Yuno muttered the last words so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.

“But you said—”

“I don’t mind,” Yuno insisted, grabbing onto Leo’s hand before he could think better of it.

For a moment, they were frozen like that, hands atop one another’s, staring at them like they were foreign objects.

Then Leo’s mischievous grin returned and he let go only to gently grasp either side of Yuno’s hurt leg, caressing with intention now. “You don’t mind, eh?”

Yuno’s eyes went wide and he forgot how to breathe, but he nodded. Leopold gently trailed his fingers up and down his calf and shin, but when he got close to the backside of Yuno’s knee, the wind mage couldn’t help but gasp and try to pull away again.

Leo chuckled, though his smile faltered. “Maybe this is too much too fast, Yuno…”

“It tickles.”

The words were barely a whisper – the softest of admissions – but the redhead heard it, and he stopped, staring. “Say what?”

“I’m not pulling away because I don’t like it.” Yuno was back to blushing furiously, averting his eyes in that way he did when he was nervous. “My knee…it tickles.”

“I thought you were hurt?”

“I…I am. But…”

Leo grinned. “I see. Tickles, huh? But I really did hurt you?”

Yuno huffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not that bad.”

“All right, all right. But your other knee isn’t hurt.”

By the time Yuno realized what he was implying, it was too late. Leo grabbed his other leg and held it firmly in place while skittering his fingers along his kneecap, and the dark haired boy gasped and burst into giggles, unable to help it.

“Nohohoho! Hey!”

“You’ve got ticklish legs? That’s cute,” Leo hummed, slipping around to his knee pit. He beamed at Yuno’s following squeal and harder snickering. “Where do you think you’re going? Can’t get away from me with a bum leg, can you, hot stuff?”

“Y-Yohohohou’re the one whohohohoho’s hohohohot!” Yuno cackled. Then he realized what he’d said and his eyes went wide. “I m-mehehehehean���! Your mahahahahagic!”

“Sure, sure. Just my magic.”

He kept up the light scribbling under Yuno’s knee for a few moments, then switched tactics by slipping between his legs and scratching at his thighs instead. The way the wind mage blushed and visibly sputtered at the intimate move was absolutely everything.

“Stohohohohohop!” Yuno cried, struggling to stay upright at this point. “Leheheheheheo!”

“Aww, someone’s a little sensitive, huh? Tickle, tickle~”

Yuno whined and tried grabbing onto the lapels of Leo’s uniform, but the redhead suddenly grabbed his hips and squeezed and Yuno finally fell back instead, giggling loudly and kicking his good leg in the air desperately. “Nohohohohoho!”

“It’s good to see you laughing,” Leo said seriously even as he grinned at the darker boy, pinching and squeezing his hips and waist mercilessly. “You’re always so serious.”

Yuno clamped shaking hands on Leo’s wrists as he squealed and cackled, shaking his head while that dark blush returned. “Leheheheheheo!”

“You know, you said you didn’t mind that I was being so familiar. I wonder if that means you don’t mind this, either? You sure don’t seem all that desperate to get away from my tickly clutches~”

“You mehehehehehehenace!”

“I’m not hearing a retort~”

Yuno had to admit, he really didn’t mind this. It was embarrassing and his right knee was killing him, but having Leo looming over him like this, making him laugh so freely like this, teasing him like this – he didn’t mind it. Not one bit.

“Plehehehehease!” he whined, still holding the redhead’s wrists but not trying to stop him. “Leo, plehehehehehease!”

Leo smirked and began clawing his way further up, squeezing his sides now. “Hmm? Is that a desperate plea for me to keep going that I hear, Yuno?”

Yuno couldn’t even answer for how his giggling was bordering on laughter now, his mind a happy mush.

“If you’re interested, I can always take it a little further…” Leo teased, leaning down so they were nose to nose. “Gods, I want to kiss that laughter coming out of you.”

“Leheheheheheheo!” Yuno pleaded, then – before he could hesitate – grabbed onto the redhead’s neck and pulled him down so their lips collided. Leo never let up tickling him, though, which was both the best and worst thing about this moment.

“Mmm,” Leo hummed happily, suddenly darting his tickling fingers up to Yuno’s ribs with no warning.

Yuno wrenched his mouth away from his and burst into laughter for the first time, arching into his touch and squirming wildly on the ground. “AHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO!! NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!”

“Ooh, not here? Not riiiiight here?” Leo teased wickedly. He latched onto Yuno’s ribs and drilled with a vengeance, leaning down to capture his lips again and silence his pleas.

Yuno screeched and laughed into their kiss, writhing in ticklish agony, able to withstand only a few seconds before tossing his head back to scream, “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP, LEO!! LEHEHEHEHEHEO!!”

The redhead had moved his kisses to Yuno’s neck, and that did it – the wind mage simply could not take any more. He frantically clawed at Leo’s uniform and laughed his heart out, begging for mercy all the while, and finally – after what felt like hours but was only another minute – Leo let up on his attack.

Yuno collapsed against the ground in a giggly heap, shakily prying his assailant’s hands away. Leo took the opportunity to lace their fingers together and push them above their heads, pinning Yuno in an entirely different way.

“You’re cute,” he said, once again hovering just above him so they were nose to nose.

Yuno chuckled. “Shut up.”

“You’re also hurt.”

“…yeah, I know.”

“So, what do you say I valiantly sweep you up in my arms and carry you to a healer?”

“I can walk just fine,” Yuno retorted, though his grin gave him away.

Leo leaned in even closer, eyes ablaze. “Not after I’m done with you.”

And he kissed him again.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

The king's gift

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 24

Prompt: Birthday

Rated: T

CW: veeery light dubcon if you squint really hard; mild blood and violence

Tags: Time Travel; Magic AU; Fantasy AU; Royal Eddie; Time traveller Steve

Notes: Continued from day 15

A bird is singing outside the window, a cheerful melody of trills and chirps celebrating the sunshine. 

Steve is gonna murder it. 

The sun, too, while he's at it. 

Even with his lids shut, the light feels like someone is trying to wedge a dagger into the space behind his eyes. Each new note from the stupid bird pounds in his skull like the blow of a hammer. 

Or the chime of a giant clock. 

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face as fuzzy memories trickle into his mind. Snarling monsters with giant fangs and claws, chasing him through the ruins of an ancient castle. A crumbling throne covered in vines, silver sigils glowing all around it. The sound of the clock in his bones, in his blood, and then … silence.

“Fucking hell … weirdest dream I've ever had.”

“Don't blame you,” someone says, and wait, he knows that voice. It was in the dream, too. “Making the acquaintance of those charming critters will do that to a guy.” 

Steve freezes.

Then, very slowly, he peers out from behind his hand. 

There's a guy in the bed with him, a vaguely familiar guy with long dark curls and eyes to match. He's lounging against the headboard, a book in his lap, but when he catches Steve gawking at him, he marks the page and puts it down on the nightstand. 

The very unfamiliar nightstand. Right next to the very unfamiliar bed they're in. 

“Hey, pretty thing,” the guy smiles, and one hand, heavily adorned in silver rings, tenderly smoothes Steve’s hair from his forehead. “Feeling better?” 

“The fuck?” Steve shoots upright. “Where the hell am I?” 

Because the room, as it turns out, is as unfamiliar as the bed. It looks like something out of the period pieces his mom watches - ornate furniture and plush carpets, walls covered in velvet tapestries. Like some medieval king's castle, and … 

… oh, no. 

No fucking way. 

“Careful now,” the guy chuckles good-naturedly and grabs him by the scruff of his shirt. “They did quite the number on you. My head mage patched you up, but you don't wanna overdo it.”

He makes to pull him back into the pillows, but Steve twists from his grip and jumps out of the bed, ignoring the wave of vertigo that comes with the movement. 

“Woah woah, wait!” he stammers. “What the fuck do you mean? That was real? What the hell is even- What am I wearing?” 

Because his jeans and tee are gone. Instead, he's in some sort of wide, billowy shirt. It flows around his form and ends somewhere around his very naked thighs. It has frills. 

He isn’t wearing anything else. 

“You were somewhat covered in blood, darling,” the man laughs. He languidly unfolds himself from the bed, one long limb at a time, and steps into Steve’s space. “Didn't wanna risk an infection. Also doesn’t befit my gift to run around like that, all dirtied and-” 

“Excuse the fuck outta me?” Steve squawks. “Your what?”

Anger flares low in his gut and he takes a step backwards. The man just smiles easily and follows, and then, suddenly, warm calloused hands are cradling his cheeks. 

“My gift, sweetheart,” he repeats, like that isn't something only a complete fucking lunatic would say. His thumbs idly stroke Steve’s cheekbones. “It's my birthday and the magic gave you to me, just like the oracle said it would. I've been waiting so long for you. Didn't expect you to be this gorgeous, but that's an added bonus, isn't it?” 

They're close, very close, so close that some errant strands of curly hair are tickling Steve’s flushed cheeks. And somehow the guy is still getting closer, head tilted ever so slightly, plush pink lips parted just enough to- 

Steve isn't a violent guy, usually, but … he's going through a lot right now and he's panicking, okay?

He doesn’t even consciously process what happens. Just knows that a stranger whose bed he woke up in and who just called him his fucking birthday gift is pulling him in for a kiss. One second later, his knuckles are hurting and said stranger is in a heap on the floor, wiping blood from his split lip. 

“Pretty and feisty,” he mutters. When he lifts his gaze, his eyes are full of awe. “You really are perfect, aren't you?” 

“What the fuck?” Steve blurts. Again. He's starting to lose count of how often it's been. “Who do you even think you are, you fucking weirdo?” 

The guy cocks his head in confusion, but only for a second. Then, that infuriating dimpled grin slips back on. He's handsome, in a dangerous and rugged way, with his wild hair and bruised lip. 

“Apologies, he rumbles. "Where are my manners?” 

And then, without getting up off the ground, he reaches out and takes Steve’s hand in his. Steve watches, heart in his throat and eyes wide with confusion, how the guy bends into a dramatic bow and reverently kisses his own blood off his raw knuckles. 

“The name is Edward. King Edward Munson of the Woodland Mountains. Also oh-so-aptly known as Edward the Banished, though my friends just call me Eddie. And you, my dear …” 

He looks up at him, all glinting eyes under dark lashes and Steve needs to swallow against the lump clogging his throat. 

“You're going to be the one who saves me.”

All my holiday drabbles

[smokesandsonatas]

can i have some headcanons of what our twisted wonderland boys will do after they graduate? you can choose only 4 if there is a limit, thank you so much

Twisted Wonderland characters after their graduation at NRC

- This really tickled my brain so I'm going to write assumptions for everyone. I drafted this around last year then only got to post this right now, haha. -

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

After his graduation from NRC, and bagging home the highest honor for an exceptional mage, I can see Riddle furthering his education. If there's such a thing as Ph.D. in Twisted Wonderland, Riddle will pursue that. I can also see him becoming a "Double Doctor," a medical doctor, and a doctor of Philosophy. Not only that but Riddle will also pursue law, along with magical medicine. A doctor and a lawyer, all in one. Riddle would go on to be an internationally recognized mage. He will also be an advocate of Mental Health education, fueled by his past and his mission to never let anyone experience what he went through.

Ace Trappola

I can honestly say I see him being recognized as a famous basketball player or entering the military enforcement of Queendom of Roses along with Deuce. Occasionally, Ace will perform magic tricks along with his brother, which is always a hit of course, someone even offered the Trappola brothers to appear in a reality show but Ace had other plans. In his 3rd year, he will become the Dorm leader of Heartslabyul, while Deuce will be his vice.

Deuce Spade

Will become a high-ranking magical enforcer, his salary will allow him and his family to live comfortably, especially his mom. Once the Queendom of Roses gave Deuce an award as the 'Hero of the Year,' he broke down into tears as he hugged his mom. Will be buddies forever with Ace.

Cater Diamond

Will be a famous vlogger. Be it traveling or fashion, Cater will be a famous influencer. He will also have a successful studio with workshops on how to run a magicam account successfully. If there's a fashion show, he would always be on the VIP list, as he is acquainted with Vil. If he feels burned out, he'll try to stay away from social media. If Cater can't form long relationships, he'll just leave his mark in the world with his vlogs. #LonelyButNotReally

Trey Clover

Owner of a famous bakeshop. His family's shop will prosper under his guidance. On every occasion, their sweets will sold out. One time a magazine listed Trey as the "sexiest pastry chef," and Cater and his other friends will never let him live with it. The Clover's Bakeshop occasionally partners with Mostro Lounge, and when they do, everything sells out within seconds.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

He does not need to work, but he is a genius as Leona is still a prince of a noble family. Have you seen those alpha males ads? Leona will be all of that. A CEO of his own company and at the same time a diplomat of Sunset Savannah to other nations. His business started out as a mining corporation, gradually expanding into construction. A noble man who many people - beastmen and beastwomen - fawn over with. A millionaire. A bachelor. Once, Farena, the current king and his older brother, called to meet with him and Leona put harshly down the phone. Leona's reason for doing this? When he realized that Farena tried to marry him off to a noble from some rich kingdom 'for his future'. Leona's reply? Is a simple scoff and a very deep, "Fuck off."

Ruggie Bucchi

Will be an assistant to Leona. The next generation of Hyenas will not experience poverty as Ruggie did. His all-around skills will come in handy as a secretary. Ruggie will be a finance speaker. He will sometimes get his hands dirty. What? Hyenas are used to it. Fear not, he's still the same old Ruggie, just a little more rich.

Jack Howl

After graduation, Jack will get a lot of offers to be a professional magift player. Leona will offer to sponsor him tho, so he doesn't need to worry about financial things. Will be an advocate of physical health, his muscular physique is no joke. I can see Jack being a well-known magift player and a track and field competitor, with the help of Prof. Vargas as a head coach.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

In every nation, there's a branch of Mostro Lounge. Azul will be listed as the "Top 100 most successful bachelors," along with Jade, possibly Floyd, Vil, and Leona. Azul would go on to accumulate a lot of awards for his splendid business skills. Will own a share in almost all known companies. He'll have to pull strings from Idia to let him invest or buy shares from Jupiter Enterprises. Azul will be compared to the Sea Witch due to how influential he is. Once his mother passed him their restaurant in the Coral Sea, Azul's work will quadruple, and so is his income. Because of him, the mermen's view of octomerpeople will change. But for a darker secret, Azul will be known as the Mediator, and every Mostro Lounge place will be known as a neutral territory for members of the 'other' world. Of course, the Leech twins will still stick with him.

Jade Leech

Jade will inherit their Father's mafia legacy, along with Floyd. The Leech family will prosper under the twins' rule. Jade will open a mushroom business, as to what kind of mushrooms he's selling Jade will smile in response and say it's a fresh mushroom from the mountain. Jade's favorite base of operation would be on land, it's just more fun and chaotic when he watches humans stutter and pass out once he interrogates them. Jade will work as Azul's concierge, working for both him and the Leech family. And in the morning, he'll be the vice manager of Mostro Lounge. But sometimes it does get a little boring. Once a company famous for being greedy with their demands easily relents when they realize it is The Jade Leech that will conduct business with them. Such a shame, Jade would've loved to see the look on their faces.

Floyd Leech

Floyd would be proud of his shoe collection! By now he would have a hundred pair of shoes. Of course, he's still with Jade and Azul, acting as the brawns of the trio. He will make it a point with them to only give him interesting jobs, if it's boring? Floyd would abandon that. One time he learned to drive, he brought his sports car to another country and accidentally got pulled over in the Queendom of Roses, to his surprise it is Mackerel (Deuce) who pulled him over! Floyd paid for the ticket and then went on to hang out with him. Floyd's favorite part of his job is squeezing everyone that owes them unpaid debts!

Though Floyd just doesn't understand why Momma Leech wants to introduce him to a mermaid. Jade is laughing at first, but not anymore once his twin realized that their Momma intends to introduce him to a mermaid too! Floyd will never forget the look on Jade's face - that's probably reflected on him - once their Momma gushes over about 'baby eels'. What? Mermaid eels have little populations. They have to do their part, don't they?

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim inherited his father's multi-million business. Through his easygoing personality, Kalim is well-loved by everyone. He established business trade routes with almost every nation, while still honoring his personal ones. An example is with the Felmier's, so that their apples will be enjoyed by everyone in Scarabia. The threats grew along with the Asim's already immense wealth. Don't worry, Kalim by now, will know how to defend himself using his unique magic. He just had to know how to reply with the various marriage proposals going his way, it pains Kalim to reject every single one, you know.

Jamil Viper

After his graduation at NRC, Jamil would take a year or two for himself. He will travel across Twisted Wonderland, and by this time Jamil's perception of the world would change. Finally prioritizing himself and is selfish for once. When he will come back, however, he will be met with a warm welcome from the citizens of Scalding Sands and the Asim and Viper family. Jamil would go on to become a successful businessman and bodyguard best friend of Kalim. But this time, they're on equal footing.

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit

There's no spotlight if there's no Vil Schoenheit. He will become the highest-paid actor for straight 5 years, until Neige just slightly beats him, running off a few hundred thousand madol. But in the same year, Neige surpassed him in pay, Vil went on to win the Best Actor award for his work in a movie as a misunderstood villain protagonist. His movie even screened in the coral sea! As if there's no stopping him, his successful cosmetics company took off Twisted Wonderland by storm, his eye palette alone is sold out within seconds.

Rook Hunt

Oh dear, Rook will also inherit the Hunt's family business. One moment someone can see Rook in Quendom of Roses then the next he would be spotted on Sage Island. Of course, Rook will not stop admiring beauty and arts! He will fund archaeological studies, theater, art museums, galleries, and even beauty pageants. Rook will be one of the art and beauty industry's most important benefactors.

Epel Felmier

Will be known as the "pretty boy of magift." Not in a bad way, but more like a compliment. His talent is honed thanks to his NRC club. Sometimes Epel would attend fashion shows that present him as a "manly man", you know wearing suits and all of that. Because of his new-found fame, the Felmier's apple business will bloom, in part thanks to Kalim.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

Will become the head of S.T.Y.X, but will also manage the Shroud's position in Jupiter Enterprises. On top of that, Idia will develop one of the best MMORPG and FPS games Twisted Wonderland had ever seen. Additionally, Idia won't just stop in developing games, he will also develop magic-infused medical devices that will drastically change the healthcare industry, crediting the Idia Shroud for its invention.

Once a magazine included Idia in their "Top 100 most successful bachelors," he almost sued them if not for Azul, Ortho and his parents convincing him it's a good thing. But Momma and Papa Shroud can't help but wonder when will they have grandkids, the Shroud's need an heir to continue their duties, you know.

Ortho Shroud

Ortho will stay at his brother's side! But his looks will drastically change, if the Ortho from before looks young, the Ortho from the future will have a much taller body, but he will still regain his childlike curiosity. Only the future Ortho is more mature and more open to take time for himself. He will ask Idia to send him off to faraway lands to gather information and to also satiate his curiosity about the real world. Ortho will become independent yet still close to his brother.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

Malleus' coronation is one of the most liveliest and solemn celebrations Briar Valley had seen for the last 5 centuries. Under King Malleus' rule, his kingdom will prosper. Faes and humans alike will come to a much more common understanding. Although the valley still heavily relies on magic, technology will become available, as a courtesy of the friendship acquaintanceship of Idia.

On some days, Malleus will truly get busy. Managing a country and it's affairs is no small feat. Through trades and partnership with every Kingdom, from Savanaclaw to the Coral Sea courtesy of his two alumni schoolmates from NRC, Briar Valley will prosper. It just gets annoying sometimes when the news reporters, the common folk, the fae senators, and even his own grandmother will ask him about an heir. Malleus still needs to find someone who will stay by his side, and it's not an easy thing to do.

Lilia Vanrouge

Sweet old man Lilia is on his way to retirement. In the chapter of Diasomnia, we learned that his magic is running out. Well, all good things must come to an end. Though his eventual retirement in the Land of the Red Dragon came true, he still returned. And Lilia had his fair share of adventures. Because Malleus is busy with the preparations for his coronation, Lilia is there to help him. On the occasion he's free to do anything, Crowley offered him a teaching position in NRC, which is the spot left open by Professor Trein. Lilia accepted, and for a semester he become a teacher, quitting right after to attend Malleus' coronation.

Lilia liked to think a had lived a full life. He was it all. A fearsome general, a caretaker of the young prince, an adoring father, and a good friend.

Sebek Zigvolt

No one dares to Disrespect the King under my watch! That is what he would occasionally say. If one of Briar Valleys' own Fae advisors disrespects Malleus, expect Sebek to speak, and even draw his sword. Yes, he's part human and half Fae but that doesn't mean he's not powerful enough to defend the king.

With this Sebek will grow in closer relationship with his grandfather and his mortal dad. His parents' dentistry business will expand, and for some time Sebek's face is the model of it, which made him embarrassed, yet he still loves his parents nonetheless.

Silver

I can see Silver honoring his promise to Lilia and staying by Malleus'side. However, that is considering if his feelings don't change. Silver will quickly become one of Briar Valley's most beloved humans, and for some reason, he always gets mistaken as an RSA graduate. Once Vil invited him to cover for a sick model in a fashion show and he declined but Vil already presented his picture to the photographers. For some reason, his picture was leaked to the public and Silver's name is trending for days. Some say he's a child of the king, and others compare him to Neige's beauty. His face was everywhere in magicam, with the hashtags "the most handsome sleepy prince," and the "dreamy prince of dreams."

[otomiyaa]

Day 30: Magic

Frieren x Himmel | Nim's Lovely Tickletober

Word Count: 700

Collab with @dokidoki-muffin! [Link to artwork]

It was nothing new of course, but Himmel couldn't help himself and secretly enjoyed it every single time: Frieren's chaotic encounters with mimics.

The elven mage's legs were kicking wildly as she tried to free herself from the heavy fake chest she got caught in this time, causing Himmel to rub his lips as if that could hide the smile on his face.

"Again... Alright. This might take a while. I'll explore the next room in advance," they heard Heiter say behind them. Eisen just followed the priest without a word, leaving Himmel alone with Frieren and her struggles.

Turning back around, beholding the elf’s lazy dangling legs, something crossed Himmel's mind. Something he had thought of already a couple of mimic accidents before this one. The blue-haired hero looked around, realizing this was actually the perfect opportunity.

"Frieren?" He took a step closer to stand by her side. Frieren stopped struggling, not seeming to be in that much of a rush to get herself out.

"Yes?" she chirped. Himmel chuckled.

"There's something I've been wanting to share with you. Actually, I've picked up a trick that can help you free yourself from mimics," he explained, trying hard to contain his anticipation.

Frieren hummed. "A trick? Like... magic?"

"Well… You could say that." Not really, but if she was buying it, he was more than happy to play.

"Hm... I haven't heard of such a spell. You learned about it?"

She sounded surprised and curious, making Himmel wonder if Frieren was really this easy to prank. Then again, this was the elf who got stuck in a mimic for the umpteenth time, because of her blind lust for discovering new spells.

"Yes. It went something like this," Himmel elaborated, as he carefully knelt down by Frieren's side.

"If you happen to find yourself in a pickle..." Himmel slowly took off Frieren's boot, observing her with a side-eye, but she didn't even seem to question it.

"...we can solve it... with a tickle!"

Proud of his homemade spell improvisation, Himmel immediately began to scribble his fingers over Frieren's foot. For a good second she didn't respond, as if she needed a moment to process those words and sensations. But all of a sudden, loud giggles could be heard from within the chest, and she started to kick and squirm.

"Hehehey!!! That's no mahahagic at ahahall!" the elf squeaked in surprise.

No kidding! Himmel smiled fondly and continued his tickly assault.

"Are you sure? Seems quite magical to me," the hero stated innocently while admiring Frieren's sweet bubbly laughter. It was so unlike her to laugh like this, and it was like music to his ears.

"Can you get out now?" he asked while she continued to giggle uncontrollably.

"Nohoho!"

"Then we will need to try harder~" Himmel reached for her other foot and took off that boot as well. He grabbed her ankle and tickled her sole with some more happy scribbles before wiggling his fingers into her toes, causing the mage to squeal.

"Heeeehehehey! Dohohon't!"

At last, Frieren's struggling was actually effective and Himmel could see her slowly re-emerge from the mimic trap.

"Almost there," Himmel sang, smirking at the sight of some new target space.

Quickly letting go of her foot, he leaned forward to give Frieren's sides some gentle squeezes.

"WOHAHA!"

With a surprisingly loud roar, Frieren finally popped out of the mimic and fell backwards… Right on top of Himmel.

Blushing like crazy at their sudden close proximity, Himmel could hear her wheezy breaths and feel her movements as she squirmed above him.

"That was the worst magic ever," Frieren pouted while she clumsily crawled off him, scrambling about on the dungeon ground to put her boots back on.

Himmel hurried to get on his feet before she did, and he held out his hand to help her up.

"But it did work," Himmel claimed victoriously.

Frieren looked up at him with a sigh, her cheeks still painted with a cute rosy color, and sparkles in her eyes.

She smiled and grabbed his hand.

"Well… That's true. I'll forgive you for now," she declared, but it was plain obvious how flustered she was, going the other way after a swift turn.

"Now where did those other two go? Thanks a lot for leaving me behind~" the elf mage murmured, sounding all shy and embarrassed.

Hehe. Himmel smirked and followed after her.

He indeed hoped she did forgive him, for he would actually love to do that again...

[angelatmidnight1]

A Helping Hand

A/N: This is just a self-indulgent fic I'm using as a springboard for another one. I'm in a Gale/Karlach/Astarion high right now. I'll get back to requests as soon as I can, and I hope you like the story!

Fandom- Baldur's Gate 3.

Pairing- Starts with Gale x Karlach (platonic, ler!Gale and lee!Karlach), and ends with Gale, Karlach, and Astarion (platonic, ler!Karlach, ler!Astarion, and lee!Gale).

Word Count- 2,532.

Warnings- Situated in Act 3 so potential for spoilers, also tickling and swearing.

Gale finally shows Karlach how to cast Mage Hand, another avenue of touch, and she’s thrilled by the doors it opens up. He invites her to explore touch with him and doesn’t account for her using it for more playful, nefarious reasons, like tickling. And, just when it couldn’t get any more chaotic, Astarion invites himself in on the fun, too…

“That’s it, Karlach. Try the incantation again.”

Gale spoke from behind the tiefling after he guided her hands into the right position. She was very warm to the touch, but touching her didn’t burn. Her engine was a source of curiosity for him ever since she’d joined the party way back when. But, instead of indulging that curiosity, he’d promised to show her how to cast Mage Hand. Karlach had gotten the incantation down more or less. He just had to make sure she had her hands in the right place. Magic was just as much a physical thing as a verbal one in Gale’s experience. 

Karlach rigidly held her hands in position and repeated the incantation. “Veniam Iuva Me..” Her eyes brightened when the spectral hand emerged in front of her. “I got it!”

“Excellent,” Gale smiled. “Now, with a flick of the wrist, or a thought even, the hand will do as you command. You can pick things up, throw them, push the unfortunate goblin to their death…”

Karlach wasn’t fully listening; instead, she flexed and curled her fingers, and the mage hand mirrored her. “Yeah. Woulda been nice to have one of these when I got back to the Sword Coast.” She replied. “At least I’d have been able to touch something..”

She guided the hand across the Elfsong Tavern and picked up a tankard. She brought it back over to her and took a sip of the ale, exhaling deeply. “Aw, man. A girl could get used to this..”

Gale chuckled and picked up his own glass of wine. “Learning cantrips are only the beginning of a lifelong journey with magic. Cheers to taking that first step.”

Karlach happily clinked her tankard with his glass. She took another sip, her eyes sparkling with genuine wonder and curiosity. “So, I can touch anything with this hand, right?”

“Most things,” he corrected. “The mage hand can take damage just as our own. So, you couldn’t grab, say, the blade end of a sword. But you could wield said sword as an extension of yourself. It’s very handy in that regard.”

“Gods, the puns.” Karlach snickered. “And yeah, I’ll be sure to have one of these around when we beat the Absolute’s ass. But uh, I was thinking more along the lines of being able to, you know, hold someone’s hand? Maybe caress a face or two?”

“Of course. Here, if you’d like, you can explore the mage hand’s capabilities with me.” He finished his wine and stood in front of her. He extended his own hand. “I’m more than willing to offer myself as a test subject in the pursuit of knowledge.”

“Really? That’d be awesome!” Karlach brought the hand to Gale’s, palm to palm. She interlocked her fingers and the mage hand, as well as Gale, followed suit. “Thank you, Gale.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Gale allowed Karlach to explore his hand with the spectral one, watching it stroke across his fingers. The barbarian hummed in thought and moved further up his arm. 

“So, what does this feel like?” She asked, moving the touches up to his wrist. “Doesn’t beat the real thing I suppose. But it is nice to have options.”

“Well, it’s very similar to the touch of another, minus the warmth of course.” Gale turned his palm towards the floor so she could go up his arm. “Maybe it is a lighter touch, too. Almost feather like..”

“Yeah?” When she reached his upper arm, she curled the fingers on the mage hand, gently squeezing into his skin. Gale fidgeted a little bit and exhaled through his nose. She raised a brow. “What? That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, quite the opposite, actually.” He chuckled. “Bit ticklish is all.”

“Huh.” Karlach hummed again, continuing to kneading into his upper arm. She smiled. “I didn’t really pick you as the ticklish type, with you being all proper and scholarly and whatnot.”

“Y-Yehehes, well…” Gale chuckled a bit more and tugged at his arm, but the mage hand held strong. After a few more attempts, Gale managed to get his arm free. “I can say with confidence that ticklishness doesn’t have a face. Why, even the strongest warriors can be—hey!”

 Instead of going for his arms again, Karlach brought the mage hand towards his torso, prodding into his side. Gale again jumped away from the ticklish touch and giggled louder. He backpedaled and wrapped a protective arm around his torso. “Now, Karlach,” he warned. He suddenly felt a bit playful and grinned. “Choose your next actions carefully. Should you try to tickle me again, I will have no choice but to retaliate.”

He stepped further away from her, his hands glowing with magic. Karlach followed after him, snickering. 

“Oh really?” Karlach challenged, returning the grin. “Heh, I’d like to see you try!”

Somewhere else in the tavern, sitting on his bed, was Astarion. His brow was knitted together in concentration as he sewed up a split seam on a shirt. Not his shirt, but Wyll’s. Now that they were back in Baldur’s Gate, Astarion believed looking the part was a high priority. He wouldn’t stand for his companions walking around in tattered clothes. Ideally, he’d find a clothing merchant and just steal their stuff, but he was willing to pace himself. He flinched when there was a sudden roar of laughter, Karlach’s laughter, and he grumbled under his breath. Did she always have to be so damn loud?

“Karlach, can you keep it down?” He called sharply. He refused to look up from what he was doing; he was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to sewing. “Some of us have important things to do, and I need to concentrate.”

But instead of quieting down, Karlach’s laughter only got louder. A thud accompanied this wild laughter, and Astarion’s patience waned. He got up with a heavy sigh, putting his work on his end table. Then, he followed the source of the racket. 

When he got to the next room, Karlach was prone on the floor, laughing her head off. Gale sat beside her with a smug smirk. Karlach’s mage hand was gone, and there was a purple aura emanating off of her: Gale’s variation of a Hold Person spell. Instead of completely immobilizing her, she was able to squirm around, though she didn’t get very far. The first place he squeezed was her hips, a terribly ticklish spot, and he was still kneading into them when Astarion entered the room. 

“I warned you,” Gale was saying as he skittered his fingers across her torso. He honed in on her sides, and her loud laughter calmed into not as loud giggles. “We could’ve handled this civilly, but you forced my hand!”

Karlach squealed and wrestled with Gale’s hands, but her laughter had weakened her, and she was honestly having a blast. “Fahahahaha! I-I’ll gehehehet youhuhuhu bahahack! Youhuhuhu juhuhust wahahait!” 

“Unlikely,” Gale snickered. “But I do admire your resolve.”

That’s when he summoned another mage hand and used it to poke at her ribs. Karlach’s frantic giggling mingled with snorts. Astarion fondly shook his head as he watched from afar. 

“Having fun, darlings?” Astarion soon spoke over Karlach’s laughter. He stepped further into the room. He was initially annoyed,  but Karlach’s laugh was highly contagious. He had to expend a good deal of effort not to giggle along with her. “I was wondering why Karlach was laughing so hard. I figured someone told a joke, fell on their arse maybe. But no, you’re just…tickling her. Adorable I suppose, but why?”

Gale looked up, joining the mage hand in pinching and scritching over Karlach’s ribs. She yelled and rolled from one side to the other, trying to dodge the hands. “Because I made the generous offer to teach her a spell, and she decided to turn on me,” he explained.. “I responded in turn by giving her a taste of her own medicine.” 

“So I see,” Astarion hummed. “Well, I’d tell you two to keep it down, but that’s impossible with her hyena call. Maybe you’d like a hand?”

“NAAHAHOHOHO!” Karlach protested, shrieking when Gale’s hand jumped to her armpit. She immediately brought her arms down, trapping his hand, and her laughter went up two octaves. Gale continued to wriggle his fingers along her armpit, but having her arms down didn’t make it easy for him. He sent the mage hand to wrestle with her arm to try and pull it up. Gale regarded Astarion with a quick glance, nodding. 

“I certainly won’t turn down the help—”

“Not you, Gale.” Astarion scoffed. He walked towards the duo. “Why, our poor fiery friend is in stitches, and you have the advantage of having literal magic at your fingertips. Helping you wouldn’t even begin to even the playing field..”

 Gale’s gaze snapped back to the spawn. He halted his tickle attack, giving Karlach a break. “Now hang on, I wasn’t the one that started this.”

“But you are the one indirectly causing the noise, in a manner of speaking.” Astarion stepped with a purpose towards them. “I couldn’t even sew in peace.”

“That hardly seems fair!” Gale protested. Since he spent a lot of effort keeping Karlach in place and now had his sights on Astarion, both his concentration and his spell slots waned. That didn’t stop him from popping up from the floor and pointing a warning finger at him. “Don’t you dare, Astarion!”

Karlach  wrapped both arms around her torso as they bickered. She didn’t mind tickling in the slightest, but Gale wasn’t going to weasel his way out of her well deserved revenge. Especially when she now had a partner in crime. While she was laying on the floor, she grabbed a fistful of the end of Gale’s robe and pulled him down with her. Gale screamed and, before he knew it, Astarion was on him, too. 

“Get him!” Karlach shouted, easily tangling the wizard up in her arms. Astarion smirked and knelt beside them. He waited until she pulled his arms over his head to poke into his sides. Gale flinched and tried to lean away from the poke, but he only leaned further into Karlach’s arms.

“Nohoho no no! AhAHah! Wahahait!” Gale yelped and squirmed as Astarion continued to prod into his sides, his frantic giggles already threatening to jump to laughter. “Two against one is nohohot fahahir!”

“Who said anything about fair?” Karlach grinned and clawed her way down his forearm until she could burrow into his exposed armpits. Gale bucked and giggled harder, trying and failing to bring his arms back down. “Nope, you’re not getting out of this one, Gale.”

Astarion climbed on top of Gale’s kicking legs, fingertips fluttering into his sides with more purpose. The wizard twisted from one side to the other, but his fingers stayed on him. “You really thought I’d help you? And end up on the receiving end of Karlach’s fury?” Astarion snickered. “No, my dear. Unlike you, I know how to pick battles that I can win, haha.”

“Y-Youhuhu opportunhistic leehehehehech!” Gale squealed and curled in on himself when Karlach circled her thumbs along the outer curve of his armpits. The barbarian smirked, following the curve of his back and ending with swipes of her claws at the back of his ribs. Gale yelled and jerked forward, only to press his back into her chest when she kept scribbling. 

“Where ya goin’~?” She giggled. She let go of his arms for the moment so that she could use both hands to attack his rib cage. Gale immediately brought his arms to his sides and batted at her wrists. 

“Awahahahay frohohohom youhuhuhu!” He yelped and squeezed at her wrists when she tickled faster. “KAhahahaha! Lehehehet mehehehe gohohoho!”

In truth, Gale enjoyed tickling every now and again. It’s not something he’d go around talking about, but he definitely appreciated a good laugh. But Karlach and Astarion together were probably the most mischievous ticklers on the Sword Coast. If anything, they fed off of each other’s skills. Astarion had the dexterous fingers and teasing taunts, and Karlach had the strength and boundless energy. Together, they left Gale a laughing mess.

“Why? We’ve only just started,” Astarion teased, gently pinching the sides of his stomach. Gale jolted and belted out a laugh. Astarion did it again, earning another frantic laugh, and he grinned knowingly. Gale’s arms flailed as he tried to grab the spawn’s hands. 

“NOHOHO AHASTAHARION!” Gale wrestled with his hands, now full-on laughing. Astarion clicked his teeth as he tried to keep tickling his tummy. He gave Karlach an expectant look. 

“Ahem, little help here?” He asked, having to halt his tickle attack in favor of trying to move Gale’s hands. Karlach stopped tickling his ribs and reached over both men’s arms.

“Right, I’ve got ‘im.” She looped her larger arms around Gale and drew him back into her chest. Gale continued to squirm until his arms were trapped under hers.

“Thank you,” Astarion chuckled. He smirked at the wizard in front of him and made a big show of flexing his fingers. “Now, where were we?”

He put one hand on Gale’s tummy and Gale flinched again, nervously giggling. 

“Nohohot thehehre…” Gale jumped again and squealed when the spawn flexed his fingers. “AHAhastariohohon! Anywhehehre buhuhut thehehehre!”

“My, so sensitive..” Astarion continued to gently flex his fingers against Gale’s tummy, chuckling more at his squeals and cackles. “I’m hardly touching you. Our resident wizard is just a magical bundle of nerves, isn’t he?”

“Sure is,” Karlach grinned. “But hey, who said you’re gettin’ all of the fun?” She readjusted her hold on Gale, now using one arm to keep him against her chest. She joined Astarion in squeezing and poking into Gale’s tummy, and his loud laughter echoed throughout the tavern. 

Astarion wrapped his legs around Gale’s to not get thrown off but, even then, he almost went flying. Karlach laughed along with Gale as she alternated between the side of his stomach and just above his hip. 

“Gods, I love your laugh,” she giggled. “It’s so fuckin’ cute.” Despite her strength, even Karlach had to make sure she didn’t let go of him. Gale bucked and cackled in her hold.

“NAHAHAHAHA! DOHOHON’T TIH-AHAHA! AHAHA!” Gale struggled to get a full sentence out; he could only laugh himself silly as he leaned into Karlach’s shoulder. 

Eventually, the duo eased off of him. Karlach let go of his arms, and Astarion slowed his tickles down to gentle pokes and stroking. Gale inadvertently slid down Karlach’s lap, finally able to bat at Astarion’s hands.

“Plehehease, truhuhuce…” He gasped, sighing with relief once Astarion finally stopped. The spawn snickered.

“Alright, alright, I’ve had my fun. I’ll leave you in the capable hands of our mutual friend.” Astarion patted Gale’s stomach and climbed off of his legs. Once he was gone, Karlach pulled the wizard up into a seated position, holding him close.

“No hard feelings, right Gale?” She asked, rubbing her warm hands over his torso. Gale exhaled and shook his head. 

“Not at all. I believe we settled our score,” He replied, leaning further into her warmth. “Astarion, on the other hand…” 

[dumbistsmartass]

Every Hatchetfield song explained badly in ten words or less

spoilers and also this is only the main trilogy not nightmare time.

The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Yeah, he didn't like musicals

La Dee Dah Dah Day - "the dogs are my meal"

What Do You Want, Paul? - "please god have an I want song"

Cup of Roasted Coffee - If I had to sing working retail I'd kill someone

Cup of Poisoned Coffee - oh hey, they killed someone

Show Me Your Hands - this is what cops think 24/7

You Tied up My Heart - gaslight, gatekeep, girl bossing your way to mariticide

Join Us (And Die) - Guts Magee and Brainiac explain why you should KYS

Not Your Seed - "it's your fault your daughter is dead bitch"

Show Stoppin Number - He had a point but like no

America Is Great Again - you know what it's a joke about

Let Him Come - they know he's the main character

Let It Out - Is it an identify crisis or possession

Inevitable - a beautifully haunting ending

Tickle-Me Wiggly Jingle - what the actual fuck is this?

What Tim Wants - what can I say, it's sad

Califor.M.I.A. - they really want you to bond with these characters

What Do You Say? - everyone is too invested in these twos relationship

Our Doors Are Open - "shopping will fill the hole in your heart"

Feast Or Famine - this is real footage when the new iPhone comes out

Monsters and Men - He's fucking back!

Deck The Halls - we got a full working boys, we could get this

Take Me Back - I'll be real I skipped this one on rewatch

Adore Me - haunting when you don't say the shit part

Do You Want To Play? - a reversal of who you're told to trust

Made In America - we let him in via consumerism, amazing capitalism critique

Black Friday - me singing a musical as I'm being choked out

Monsters and Men (Reprise) - This guy is so cool

If I Fail You - "are we the baddies?"

Wiggle - Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle

What If Tomorrow Comes? - So she is seeing the other Hatchetfields right?

High School Is Killing Me - they really spoil the people who die first song huh?

Literal Monster - shove yourself in your locker

Cool As I Think I Am - you think you're cooler then you think you are

Dirty Girl - makes me genuinely uncomfortable, skip it

Bully The Bully - interesting plan, let's see how It plays out

Bury The Bully - oh... that got dark fast

Go Go Nighthawks! - everyone is happier now that this bitch is gone

Nerdy Prudes Must Die - to be fair, you did kill him

Hatchet Town - mass panic is so hip

Just For Once - we all though the light was gonna fall on her

If I Loved You - they are in so much denial

The Summoning - Wiggly want you to kill your crush

Cool As I Think I Am (Reprise) - really tragic, trying to convince the other to sacrifice them

The Best Of You - I'm so glad it didn't end with everyone dead again

Dirty Dudes Must Die - When you give a Christian a little dark magic

[thegnomelord]

was thinking about drawing Ifrit from "Hell has a basement floor" and had some headcanons on his appearance.

on one hand i was thinking to make him tall and burly, built big to store all the mana and power he has, make him built like a volcano.

on the other.... what if and hear me out.... Ifrit.... skinny. tall and gangly, long limbs, underfed, outlines of bones poking out from underneath the skin, sunken eyes for that extra unsettling factor. besides magic does have a cost. maybe it's just your body that needs to be exchanged.

now i thought of the second hc because tall and skinny isn't exactly associated with the kind of brute force Ifrit has but he's still strong even if his lifestyle is gonna put him in an early grave. now imagine when he's finally part of tf 141 they notice that he's not very well in the food and weight department for his height and the amount of energy he spends so... they start feeding him (especially Price and Soap because protect and care hoard/pack)......

i've also been getting into the trope where characters gain weight as a sign of health and living a better life. so yeah tell me what you think

and maybe share your hcs on Ifrits appearance because i don't want to butcher your creation on accident

Okay 1: you have no idea how happy it makes me when I hear ppl want to draw fan art of my stuff :DD, internally I'm like that dog video where the dogs happily tapping his paws lol bc he can't contain his excitement lol. And also yeah, I'm a huge sucker for the trope and your little idea with Price amd Soap tickles my brain.

And 2: man you did some mind reading bc your hcs are actually very close to what I've made up for the lore of the whole au. While I want to overall leave Ifrit's body type ambiguous to give readers some space to imagine themselves in Ifrit's place, Ifrit is 100% underweight with more of a volleyball/basketball player type build, as mages focus on stamina and endurance rather than raw strength bc that can be augmented with magic. Also has stretch marks because their weight fluctuates a lot lol

Okay lore spoilers so if y'all want to find out through the story skip this-

Okay so— magic is increadibly taxing on the body, not just by eating away flesh and creating mage marks as a Mage's power grows, but just by simply existing inside the body magic stresses the body. Because fundamentally magic is toxic to humans, and even mages who have the needed adaptations to utilise magic are no better than our ancestors when they were first learning to stand on two legs.

The best metaphor I have for magic is chemo drugs. They're used to kill a cancer but they also damage healthy cells. Magic, similarly, damages the body by existing inside it, but also is used by mages to heal the damage as soon as it happens. This uses a lot of calories and also why mages have really irregular weights, losing 10kg in a week isn't an uncommon thing.

Someone possessing even half of Ifrit's capabilities would need to eat 3x that of a regular human of the same height and weight. Mages are literally Shaggy from Scooby Doo lol. And that's only to get the bare minimum their body needs, caloric need becomes much bigger if they're active like Ifrit is. So you'll find that many mages, but especially military ones, are underweight and need to regularly get Iv fluids and nutrients to help their body recover from using magic. They also need to eat a lot of highly caloric food, which isn't easy when one of the most common side effects of magic use is puking your guts up.

Most military mages don't reach 30. The average life expectancy is around 25, with active duty (i.e. constant missions and daily magic use) mages lasting on average 3-4 years before their body basically breaks down, but they can last longer depending on how conservatively they use magic.

Now, knowing all that, Ifrit has been actively using strong magic on par with military mages since they were 14-15 years old and while they're not the healthiest, they're healthy as a horse when compared to most mages. The reason behind their continued survival — their mage marks.

[giggly-squiggily]

The Tickle Demon: First Strike (Black Clover)

Happy Sunday! Heyo everyone- I hope y'all are having a great weekend, and for those who work on Sundays I hope your day has been smooth! This is a collab with the amazing @intheticklescloset! The Ler!Liebe brainrot is strong within us jkarkjeajrkjaew Thank you so much Nym for collabing with me; I had so much fun!

For Nym's Part: The Tickle Demon: Second Strike

Summary: Liebe is familiar with tickling but has little to no experience actually doing so. Lucky for him, and not so lucky for Yuno- Asta decides to help him change that.

“Yuno!”

Said boy turned to find Asta waving at him, running down the paved roads leading away from the capital. It was their first real day off in months; no missions, no training- just a handful of hours to relax and explore the town like before.

And to start shit. “Hey, Shortsta.”

“There you go, making jokes!” Asta rolled his eyes fondly as he caught up, pulling him into a warm embrace. “I missed them, though. Really- it feels like it’s been forever since we’ve caught up! Look at you- you’re…huh?” Asta narrowed his eyes as he leaned back, taking him in. “Oh no way..did you get even taller?”

“Maybe. You’ve certainly gotten wider.” He poked at Asta’s arm, the muscle dense beneath his fingertip. “You’re like a miniature version of your captain.”

“Ha! You think so?” Asta let him go properly as he flexed, posing like one of those action figures the kids back in Hage played with. “I’ve been- OI!” He suddenly flustered, irritated at yet another short joke! “You’re really hung up on my height today, aren’t you?”

Before Yuno could reply with another playful jab, a small giggle was heard. Snickery and loud, and also kinda squeaky. The brunette furrowed a brow in confusion. It didn’t sound anything like Asta.

“Liebe, shush! Don’t laugh!” Asta cried indignantly, looking over his shoulder. Only then did Yuno finally see him.

A tiny black ball with hair like Asta’s- no bigger than a mouse. Right now, the tiny ball was laughing in its even smaller hands, one eye squeezed shut with mirth as it poked at Asta’s cheek. “He called you short! Hahahhaha!”

“That’s rich coming from you! You’re even shorter than me!”

“Take that back, you mortal!”

“You son of a-”

“What’s that?” Yuno cut in before what he suspected to be a bloodbath could erupt, tilting his head curiously. “Or should I say- who’s that?”

“Oh!” Asta’s face lit up, reminded once more his friend was before them. “Yuno! I want you to meet someone!” He gestured for the small blurb-Liebe, he said?- over so he was floating between them. “This is Liebe! He’s my demon!”

“...Huh.” Yuno nodded. That makes sense.

“Wha-You’re not shocked?” Asta was sure this was some world renowned information.

“Not really.” Then again, this was Yuno. He was rarely ever shocked. “You’re not exactly known for normalcy.”

That…was true. If Asta were being honest, Yuno’s lack of surprise at this revelation was comforting. He’d be rather sad if Yuno suddenly stopped wanting to hang out with him due to it.

The other part however was a bit peeved. He was hoping Yuno would at least drop his jaw! “Fine then- lemme show you something really cool! Liebe!” He shot his arm out to the tiny demon, watching the skin turn black as their pack formed. “Devil’s Union!”

“YEAH!”

A boom of magic, a swirl of a grimoire, and Liebe…was not fused with him. It was only after he came to full size that they remembered Captain Nacht’s words of warning.

If I come to find you two unionizing outside of battle, I’ll kill you both.

Instead of a new form, Asta…stood with Liebe on his shoulders. Stacked. They struck what they hoped would be a cool pose for the wind mage, sparkling in the sun. “How do you like us now?”

Yuno took them in, expression unchanged. Then he clapped his hands slowly-the sound soft.

“Don’t you dare pity-clap us! Whoa- Liebe stop moving!” Asta yelped as they were thrown off balance, wobbling about.

“You’re the one moving! Stay still- AH!” Liebe yelped and clung on tighter, accidentally choking Asta. The pair swirled about before coming towards Yuno- the other boy reaching out to steady them.

“Just stop here-Eeh!” He twitched when Liebe grabbed onto his shoulders, thumbs far too close to his neck. “Careful.”

“Hm? Why do you make that sound?” Liebe asked, his grip on Yuno unyielding. “Asta- what was that?”

“What was what?” The shorter mage asked, looking between them.

“Nothing. It was nothing at all-hmmmph!” Yuno shivered when Liebe dragged his thumb against his neck once more. Asta’s eyes widened, and he began to grin. “D-Don’t!”

“Don’t what?” They asked in unison. Yuno tried not to roll his eyes. Twins indeed.

“You know what.” He poked Asta in the belly for emphasis, making him step back with a giggle. “There, you’re stable now.”

“Asta- Asta! Why did he make that noise?” Liebe asked again, pointing at Yuno while the other sought his footing. “Tell me!”

“He laughed. He’s ticklish.” Asta nodded, grinning again when he saw Yuno’s ears get all red. “Humans are like that, you know?”

“They are?” Liebe hummed, looking thoughtful as he rested his folded arms across Asta’s head. “I see, I see…”

They stood there, lost in thought briefly before Asta gestured for him to lean down, voice low. “Wanna try something?”

More whispers, and the demon let out a string of giggly snickers, nodding rapidly. Yuno raised a brow in the back, already knowing where this was going and not liking it one bit.

“What are you two snickering about- Whoa!” Yuno didn’t have a chance to react. Asta came running at him, Liebe still on his shoulders. “Oh no you don’t!” He went to run, but Asta was always just that much faster than him without magic. Seconds later, they were on the ground, Yuno groaning at the weight of two Asta-sized beings landing on him. “Oof.”

“Asta! Asta we got him!” Liebe cackled, cheering from his seat on Yuno’s butt as Asta scooted out of the way, quickly grabbing Yuno’s wrists. “Do we do it now?”

“Not yet, Liebe- give him a second to catch his breath.” Asta insisted, watching Yuno’s ears burn as the anticipation began to set in. “You ready?”

“No.” Yuno peeped up while Liebe shouted “READY!”

“Not you, Liebe!” Asta held up a hand, stopping his demon. “Yuno, are you ready?”

“Hang on, let me up a second…” Yuno squirmed some until he was on his back, wiggling a hand free to wipe at his mouth with his hand. “My face hurts from lying like that. Okay..” He tried for a firm glare. “Ready.”

“Oh ho ho, I like him!” Liebe grinned as he readjusted, wiggling his fingers high. “Now I can do it?”

At one last look for reassurance from his friend, Asta nodded. “Go for it, my tickle demon!”

“Yeeee!” Liebe cheered before grabbing onto Yuno’s sides, worming his fingers into his ribs. At first, the brunette was wincing, his jaw gritted and brows furrowed. Asta waved down the other once more.

“Lighten up, Liebe. Gentle.”

“Oooo!” Liebe nodded, doing so, changing his deep burrows for a more gentle tap. The change was almost immediate- Yuno’s pained expression faded for one Asta was familiar with, grabbing onto the demon’s wrists as he tried flattening out his mouth. The classic stubborn Yuno look!

Not today! Asta decided to give Liebe his next lesson in tickling Yuno.

“Oo, what’s this? Does it tickle? Huh?” Asta cooed, daring to wiggle a few fingers overhead, worsening his friend’s defenses. “Is the big bad demon getting at your ribs? Is he? Huh? You gotta tease him too, it really works on him!”

“Huh? Okay! Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle!”

“Yeah, like that!”

Yuno didn’t dare open his mouth- lest he lose control and start laughing. Instead, he gritted his teeth and turned to look the other way, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid the sight of those dastardly fingers. He should have known better- Asta wasn’t one for empty threats.

“AH!” He squeaked when he felt them touch down on his neck, tapping against his pulsepoint that had him scrunching up and giggly. “A-Ahahahahhahahsta! Aheahahha shohohohohohot! Gheahhahhaha dohohohon’t!”

“He’s laughing! Geehehehehehe! That’s right, human! Laugh before me!” Liebe cried dramatically, doubling his efforts as he walked his claws up Yuno’s ribs. The effect was working- Yuno went from barely grasping his wrists to trying and failing to catch them completely, squirming beneath their grasps as he laughed and wheezed. “He’s so sensitive! Hehehe!”

“Right?, That’s our Yuno- he acts all cool but really, he’s super ticklish!”  Asta giggled as he wormed his hands beneath Yuno, gently prodding into his armpits. Yuno shot his arms back so fast he bruised his elbow on the concrete, arching as he let out a whimpery laugh. “Careful! Don’t hurt yourself!”

“Aheahhahaha! Dihihihidn’t feheheheel a thihihihng! Gheahhaha- AHHA NOHOHO!” He cried again when Asta wormed his fingers into his neck once more, making him scrunch and curl up. “Ahehahahahahahhah dohohoohohn’t! Nohohohot thehehehehhere!”

“Why do you move? He laughs more there?” Liebe mused as he watched Asta giggle and move somewhere else again, prodding at his upper ribs and forcing Yuno to thrash. 

“Cause he asked! Plus, I don’t wanna tire him out too quickly. It’s not as fun.” Asta kept up his playful attack, relishing in Yuno’s giggle fits. “That’s important, you know? Gotta make sure he’s still having fun!”

“Fun…” When was the last time Liebe heard that? He tapped his claws into Yuno’s sides like how Asta curled his own, noting the different ways he reacted. “What does this do?”

Yuno let out a startled gasp before bursting into fresh giggles, his feet kicking helplessly against the pavement behind Liebe as he swatted at their hands. “Gehahahhahaahha! Cohoohohhome ohohohohohn!! Whihihihihy is he gohohohohod at thihiihihs?”

“Beginner’s luck?” Asta snickered, a bit amazed. He didn’t think  Liebe would pick up the whole tickling thing so fast. Liebe was like a fish to water, cooing at Yuno the way Asta did earlier and furthering the rosy blush on the wind mage's face hidden behind his hands.

Despite all this, he could tell Yuno was having fun. He wasn’t fighting back nearly as hard as he could, nor did he beg for mercy. If anything, he  was letting Liebe have his fun, just as he did with their brothers and sisters back home.

It made him smile. Yuno had accepted Liebe.

Eventually though, all good things must come to a close.

“Ahehahahah! Ohoohokay, oohohohkay- I’m dohohohone!” Yuno called out, reaching out and grabbing Liebe���s wrists. “Stahhahap!”

“Liebe.” Asta called out, gaining the demon’s attention. He cut a line through the air, signaling him to end. With some reluctance, the demon backed off, pulling his hands back as he looked down at the giggly mage. “Good.”

Yuno was a mess of laughter, cheeks pink and hair more askew than normal. He took slow giggly breaths as he pulled both arms across his face, hiding in his sleeves. Carefully, the demon climbed off of him, sitting beside Asta as they watched slowly recover. 

“Ugh..ehehe..Iihih’m stahahrting to feeehehel it now.” Yuno gestured to his bruised elbow, wincing some when he touched it.

Asta snorted, ruffling Yuno’s hair. “Sorry about that. Want me to kiss it better?”

“No way- you’d infect it.” Yuno swatted at him playfully, shaking his head. “It’d get all bulgy like yours- then I’d have one normal arm and one tree trunk one.” Asta laughed harder at the visual, making Yuno grin. Eventually, he sat up, facing the other two as he watched Asta cough and choke through his mirth. “Did you have fun?”

Liebe figured he was asking Asta, but when he saw Yuno’s eyes on him, he put on his best grin. “Of course I did! Humans are so sensitive! Hehehehehehe. I should tickle you more often!”

“Heh, yeah…Liebe,  did you know Asta’s ticklish?” That cut off Asta’s giggle fits, making him pause with wide eyes.

“He is?” The demon’s eyes got big with wonder, his attention snapping to the other and making Asta squirm. “Is he just as bad as you? Worse? Tell me!”

“I could.” Yuno smiled, a devious glint in his grin. “Or I could show you instead?”

To be continued in Nym's part!

Thanks for reading!