Dreaming Fox

You hear it on the floorboards, but suddenly you can’t find it in yourself to turn to face him.

Not even when his steps bring him up close enough to stand behind you, and you feel his fingertips begin to trace their way up your arm as he peers over your shoulder with a sigh.

“Is that so? And you thought indulging in my research was the way to go about it? I must admit it may be a bit too ambitious given your current state of unrest but I admire your enthusiasm.” Ratio’s voice seems much more gentle now when it sounds from just short of your ear, as does his touch when it trails its way across your fingers and you give up the weight of the book to him quite easily as it settles in his palm.

It takes everything in you not to just melt back into his embrace aswell, especially when you feel the brush of his broad chest against your back when expands with his next inhale.

“It’s not my usual choice, but it’ll do.” You hum, a little quiet as Ratio crowds you there and you watch the way his fingers brush along the spine of the book as he offers you a low laugh at your response. It’s he’s admiring the cover, before bringing it over your shoulder and taking a step back from you.

But not without first leaving a gentle kiss across your temple. “But, if that is your wish. I shall see to it then.”

And that’s a movement you follow this time as you watch his broad figure retreat back towards the couch. The book’s still in Ratio’s hands despite the fatigue that laces his handsome features and it’s not long before he’s settling into his usual spot, before tapping the place next to him. “We best not waste any more of our precious time.”

His words make you look at him a little awkwardly as you take in his expression— it’s obvious he’s exhausted, somewhere behind the mused violet of his hair is a terribly sleepy expression. And you feel that guilt coming back again as you take it in, but he still blinks at you quite fondly regardless.

“I don’t want to keep you awake. You should rest, Veritas. You don’t need to worry about me.” You reply after a few moments of silence, gnawing on the inside of your cheek despite the way Ratio’s hand remains quite alluring on the space next to him.

But he seems to reply to you quite quickly, as if this isn’t an inconvenience for him at all and there’s something convincing about the way he says it. Shaking his head, “Oh please, if reading is what you seek— I, in my graciousness am offering to read it for you. Afterall, I am the one who wrote it and to pick this one in particular seems like a very elaborate way of asking for my help.”

“But… what about you?” You ask again but you take a step forward with the question this time, and Ratio waits until you’re crawling up onto the couch next to him before he answers. Until your head is resting quite comfortably on the broad muscle of his shoulder and he shifts you a bit closer before his palm rubs soothingly up and down your arm. It’s like he’s keeping you warm on a cold day despite the way his body temperate is doing a perfect job of that already.

“Well, it is not a complete and utter loss. I am with you, aren’t I? Consider it a pleasant moment of solitude.” His voice hums as he flicks through the pages, and already you can feel your body relaxing into the press of his. Maybe it’s the small confession of enjoying your presence or maybe it’s the chaste kiss that he presses into the top of your head before resting his cheek there.

And then Ratio clears his throat again, fingers pressing inbetween the pages as he finds his spot.

“So then, shall we begin?”

⭒ SUNDAY

You try your best to keep your movements minimal as you rest in bed next to Sunday, he seems to be sleeping quite softly himself but you, on the other hand haven’t been able to sleep at all. Even with his soft breathing and peaceful presence beside you, you feel as awake as you did hours ago— and you can’t help but feel a bit frustrated at yourself knowing how tired you’ll be tomorrow.

It’s probably not helping much, but you’ve opted to busy yourself by scrolling through your phone— catching up on your social media feed as you squint at the bright light of the screen. There’s not much on there that you haven’t already seen, considering you just scrolled through it a few minutes ago but it’s all you have to keep yourself entertained right now so it’ll have to do.

You grant yourself another sigh, followed by another nuzzle of your cheek into the pillows that rest beneath you and you try to convince yourself that your next blink feels heavier than the last one did. But then the next sound that disturbs the silence in the room doesn’t come from you this time,

“Having trouble sleeping?” Sunday hums from his place in the bed next to you, and it makes you jolt significantly despite the soft, drawl of his voice. The comforter over you rustles as he shifts and you send him a look from over your shoulder as you roll over to face him, meeting his mused and exhausted looking expression.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you, I was trying to be quiet.” You whisper as you roll over onto your side — facing your lover as you watch the way his wings seem to twitch themselves awake. But even despite the obvious fatigue in Sunday’s gaze, he still moves rather gracefully when he reaches out to pull you a bit closer, until you’re resting in against him and he props himself up on his forearm to look down at you.

“Ah, fret not, my dear. You have not disturbed me, I simply find it quite difficult to sleep soundly myself.” There’s a slight upturn to his lips as he answers you, and you watch the way the amber of his gaze swipes its way along your features. As does his touch a moment later when his palm rests against your cheek fondly.

“Any reason for your restlessness?” Sunday asks again, gently as if treading carefully. “If I could be of any help to you, without a doubt I will do what I can.” And there’s something about the way he cares for you that already makes you feel a bit more comfortable, as you send him an adorable blink from your pillow.

“No, I just— I don’t know what’s wrong. I just feel wide awake.” You huff, a little frustrated as you nuzzle yourself deeper into the fabric against your cheek and you feel Sunday’s thumb graze back and forth across the other as he listens to you. Though he gives your phone in your hands a quick look before sighing slightly.

“I understand.” He responds, quietly before his touch leaves you for a moment, only to softly take your phone from your palms and rest it on the bedside table. And you give it up to him quite willingly, knowing it’s probably no good for your already restless state. But he doesn’t chastise you for it, instead his hand returns to your waist this time. “Then would you like me to hum a lullaby to you?”

It’s a soft question, and it makes you smile slightly as you look up at Sunday. Even in the dimly lit room, you can make out the soft flush of his cheeks as he asks— you’re not sure if it’s how drowsy he seems or if it’s the idea of humming you softly to sleep. But you think it’s an adorable reaction regardless, you think he’s quite adorable as you nuzzle yourself in a bit closer to his chest.

“I think I would like that.” You reply after a few moments of silence and you feel an affectionate squeeze on your waist before the sheets over you rustle again.

“I must admit it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” Sunday exhales, almost humorously but then you feel him press into you a little tighter and there’s something about the close proximity that makes you melt. Your cheek is on his pillow now, and you feel the soft graze of his lips come to rest against your hairline for a moment before he retreats again.

And already, you feel like you could drift off with the way even just his words soothe you.

“Nevertheless, should it aid in your rest… I’m sure I can remember a few from when I was a child.”

⭒ MOZE

It’s around 3am as you find yourself in the kitchen now, or atleast you think it is as you squint at the clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. But one thing you know for certain, is that you can’t sleep— no matter how much you’d tossed and turned, and even beneath the press of Moze’s bicep you still felt terribly awake.

So because you felt a bit restless, and to save your boyfriend’s own rare moment of rest— you’d opted to pull yourself out of bed instead. There’s a chill to the air in the kitchen given the late hour but you’ve set out a mug infront of you as you ready yourself to prepare some tea — your movements feeling a bit heavier than usual as you try to quietly reach for the ingredients and utensils.

It is quiet, aside from your own breathing and the soft sound of the water boiling, but even despite the absence of any other sound— you don’t hear the footsteps that seem to call from behind you. There’s barely any noise to them at all, a trait that you still haven’t found yourself used to even when they come to settle into the space right behind you.

“You’re awake. It’s early.” Moze’s voice calls suddenly from over your shoulder, and it scares you enough to make you gasp for a moment before you’re whipping your head around to face him. There’s most likely a look of terror on your face, but it seems to settle quite quickly when you catch sight of the familiar colour palette of your boyfriend.

But still, you can’t help but press a palm over where your heart races beneath your chest, “Moze! You scared me!” You grumble— huffing a bit as you turn back to look towards your mug on the kitchen counter and Moze seems to take that opportunity to bring himself a bit closer.

“Sorry.” He murmurs as his chest presses up behind you, resting against your back this time as he peers over your shoulder to check what you’re doing. It feels like his body blankets you, and you can’t help but find yourself leaning back into it as one of his hands settle on your waist.

“You weren’t asleep?” You hum, softer this time now that your heart rate has returned to a regular rhythm and it’s quite quickly that Moze responds.

“No.” His voice a low drawl from where his lips rest next to your ear, and the sound makes goosebumps burst along the back of your neck. His straightforward answer makes you snort a bit, though you’re not surprised given his usual sleeping pattern— it still makes you melt when you feel him rest his cheek on your head as he continues. “I thought you would come back.”

And with that, you find yourself pressing back into Moze a little more, as if to apologise for making him wait. “Oh, sorry! I just couldn’t sleep but… you can go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.” You know it’s a long shot, given your boyfriend’s character and the person that he was — but still, you feel a bit guilty for keeping him here with you.

But as you expect, he responds to you quickly again, huffing from his space behind you. “It’s fine.” Just as his hand on your waist squeezes a bit, as if to reassure you that he doesn’t mind. But even if that wasn’t enough, he makes sure to add. “I can’t watch over you from there.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself at Moze’s words, but before you can say anything more— you hear your water reach its desired temperature to your left. The sound calls both of your attention as you remember the whole reason you were in the kitchen in the first place, but before you can reach for it— your lovers voice calls again.

“What are you doing?” He asks curiously, softly as you take a step towards the high temperature water and his body seems to follow quite closely behind you as he keeps you up against his chest.

“I was just going to make some tea, thinking maybe it would help me sleep more!” Your words are a bit hopeful, and maybe that’s why Moze doesn’t seem to say anything in response to them before he’s reaching over you to grab a second cup from the counter. His movement is enough to press you in a bit tighter to his chest, but the warmth that comes along with his body is far too difficult to resist hugging yourself into.

“Here.” He grumbles as he sets his own cup down right next to yours, “Let me handle this.” And you seem to succumb to his wishes quite easily when his hands reach out to take your own away from their duties.

Instead Moze makes quite easy work of guiding you to turn around and hug at his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as you hold him closely and it’s almost immediately that you find yourself nuzzling into him. Though you can feel his muscles moving as he prepares the tea on the counter, you can’t help but give him a soft blink as you face him now, squishing your cheek against his body.

“You’re not tired?” You ask, suddenly feeling the most comfortable you’ve felt all night and despite the way you can hear the soft sound of utensils behind you. Moze still takes the time to give you a gentle look from where you’re resting against his chest.

“My work doesn’t favour being caught unguarded.” He hums, as neutral-toned as ever and it makes you breathe out an adorable little laugh before you pull away from him slightly, though only enough to look over your shoulder and admire how diligently he seems to fill your cup with your favourite tea.

“Your work doesn’t really call for you making tea either.” You smile, a little giddy despite the way the gentle atmosphere that surrounds you both makes your body finally appear to relax. And you hear Moze grumble from his space against you before his palm is coming to rest on the back of your head, gently guiding you back into his chest as he finishes preparing your desired drink for the night.

But even as you rest with your head nuzzled into his body, you can still feel the way his lips settle a kiss into your hair. And you hear his next words in his chest,

“Stay like this. I’ll take care of it.”

⭒ BLADE

It’s late as you flick off the light to the bathroom, taking your time in the hallway before returning to the bedroom and part of you casts a glance towards the living room as you consider retreating there instead. Its not that you don’t want to sleep beside Blade, in fact— it’s just that you can’t sleep at all and maybe it would be better to try a change of scenery rather than climbing over his body every few minutes.

The idea of it makes you sigh— you didn’t often struggle with sleep, not regularly anyway but the last you checked it was around 4am and you’ve barely gotten a wink since you got into bed. Soon, it will be light out and you know the Stellaron Hunter by your side will start asking questions when he notices your dark circles.

Even just the thought of it makes you grumble to yourself before you finally decide to just try sleeping elsewhere. So you plan to return to the bedroom to grab your things first, just your phone and a comforter for the couch and you outstretch your hand to steady yourself on the wall before making your way back down the hall.

It’s a treacherous path, but you don’t want to risk waking anyone up by turning on the light and Blade’s bedroom isn’t too far away for you to be bothered by it. You try to squint to see infront of you, but your gaze ends up following to the ground a moment later as you mind your step.

But before you can even take your next— you’re colliding with something hard and warm as you stifle your surprise at the obstacle, especially when it reaches out to steady you from falling a moment later. And you’d recognise that touch anywhere as you squint your eyes up at the man in your path.

“What’re you doing?” You try to whisper quietly up at Blade. He’s a bit daunting in the darkness— but you still find yourself unfazed by his presence. Well, past the obvious surprise of him not being in bed and you being pressed up against his chest now.

But he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all, infact— his hands on your body only serve to keep you held in close to him as he answers your question with one of his own. “Something the matter? You’ve been gone a while.” His voice sounds lowly, it’s quieter than usual but there’s no hint of fatigue to it. You wouldn’t think he was just asleep in bed next to you a few minutes ago, and it makes part of you wonder whether he even was to begin with.

But even then, you can’t help but huff out a response— driven by your own frustration at yourself, but also at the fact you’ve bothered him now as well. “You could’ve said something so I knew you were there!” You grumble, but Blade doesn’t seem too bothered by it as his hands squeeze in at your waist.

“It’s late.” His response is short and low, a bit obvious— but it settles you a bit to find yourself stepping in a bit closer.

“Sorry, I just can’t sleep. I thought i’d just let you rest instead.” You hum, sounding a little pouty as you squish yourself face into Blade’s chest and you feel the next breath he takes against your features before he’s hugging you in closer.

“I see.” His hands rub up and down the length of your back as he holds you there in the dimly lit hallway, and he stays there for as long as you let him before resting his chin on top of your head. Gently, as he mutters out a tender, “And why is that?”

The question makes you turn yourself a bit, to rest your cheek on Blade’s chest instead so you can offer him a clearer response. “No reason. I just…. can’t seem to get tired.” And he squeezes his hands into your back as if to tell you he understands.

“Hm.” His voice is still hushed, careful not to be too loud considering the time, and for the first time since you’ve been stood here— you feel a bit less guilty, and a lot more grateful as he brings you in a bit tighter. “Anything I can help with?”

You shake your head as best you can against his body, “Not really. I was just going to sleep on the couch, I think I’ve bothered you enough.” But before you can even consider pulling away from Blade’s warmth, he’s already gathering you up quite easily into his hands. Until he’s wrapping your legs around his hips and carrying you in the exact direction of the living room before you can even protest.

“Fine then. Let’s go.”

⭒ JING YUAN

It was unlike you to have trouble like this, especially when you usually slept so well next to Jing Yuan any other night. Maybe it was down to the comfort his huge body would normally bring you, his muscles blanketing you better than any comforter ever could and he’d always fall asleep quite easily while holding you close.

But tonight was a bit different, and for an unknown reason of sorts that you can’t quite put your finger on. Though it had been quite difficult for you to pry yourself away from the General given how tight he was holding you, you’d still managed to break off eventually— opting to instead retreat into the living room to make sure you don’t wake him.

But even as you rest there now, busying yourself by tidying away some things— you feel as awake as ever. And it makes you breathe out a long sigh as you press your palm up against your eyelids, as if willing them to feel a bit heavier with your next blink.

It comes up short, as you expect. But you don’t really focus on that for long when you hear a subtle rustle down the hallway by your next breath.

It’s quiet at first, followed by l a heavy footstep as Jing Yuan no doubt presses himself up from the bed— his huge body’s presence was quite hard for him to conceal, especially when he’s tired. And part of you stops breathing for a bit, as if to not alert him to the fact you’re still awake, as if the empty space in the bed next to him doesn’t tell him that anyway.

But it’s almost immediately that instead, those footsteps seem to be making their way towards you and quite quickly at that as soon enough, Jing Yuan’s body makes its way through the door of the living room. It makes your eventual exhale sound a bit guilt-ridden as you take in the exhausted look on the General’s face.

But still he smiles at you so fondly, “There you are, and here I thought you had run off early.” His voice sounds— low and deep given the fact he’s just woken up and even then, it somehow brings you closer. An action that he welcomes quite eagerly himself as he hugs you into his chest.

“Leaving me so soon, my dear?” Jing Yuan hums, a little teasing despite the drowsiness that wraps itself around his words and you feel the drawl of his voice vibrate against the crook of your neck as he nuzzles in there. Rocking you back and forth where you both stand in the living room.

“I was going to come back. You didn’t have to get up.” Your words are quiet, almost whispered with how tightly Jing Yuan squeezes you into his chest. And for a moment he’s silent, uncharacteristic of him but when he sways again a moment later you have to flick at his chest to make sure he’s actually still awake.

“Jing Yuan, you’re heavy!” You grumble a bit louder this time, and that seems to rouse him from whatever dream-like state he was in beforehand as he takes a long inhale from between your shoulder and your neck. He’s chuckling despite the way he’s almost falling asleep on top of you.

“Heh, apologies. It seems I find you far too comfortable. So, might I ask what’s keeping you awake?” Jing Yuan hums again when he finally pulls away to look at you, offering you a curious blink before he’s cupping your cheeks with both hands and you feel comfortable between the warmth of them.

You lean into his palms before answering with a pretty blink, pouting your lips. “Nothing in particular. I just can’t seem to settle, don’t let me disturb you— I’ll join you later.” You try to wave him off but he doesn’t seem to budge, instead he just leans in to peck you once on the forehead. A lingering sort of kiss before pulling back again— smirking.

“Nonsense. You’re not going to have me sleep alone, are you?” It’s quite amusing to see Jing Yuan like this, he could be clingy anyway— but he was like a big huge cat right now. Even then, you can’t deny that the attention is making your body settle more than it was prior, and feeling the way his body heat encompasses you when he pulls you back into his chest is hard to resist.

So you relent as the tension in your shoulders drops, and he takes note of that as his huge arms wrap around you again.

“So how about a little company then, hm?” Jing Yuan’s lips rest against your hairline this time, words lost in your skin but the steady hum of his voice makes your next blink linger closed for a moment longer.

And you feel yourself let your guard down long enough for him to begin guiding you back down the hall, as he satiates you with another kiss against your forehead. “Come now, let us go somewhere a little comfier, my dear.”

You’re still pressed up and warm against Jing Yuan’s chest as he all but carries you, and you think this is the comfiest you’ve felt all night as he holds you there— brushing his hands up and down your body as a means to soothe you. It’s like he’s luring you into a dreamlike state manually as you mirror his huge steps with smaller ones of him own. And you can only offer him a little nod in response that makes him coo.

“I assure you, I’ll see to it you sleep quite well.”

Your lack of response makes Sunday hum— he picks up on the tense feeling in your body despite your words, but he opts not to press out of fear of making you feel worse. So he continues instead, “Nevertheless, if you are having trouble sleeping, would you like me to read something for you?”

You meet your eyes with his question and you feel that familiar pull towards him again. Maybe it’s the tender tone in which he speaks to you, but it takes everything in your body not to really roll into him this time. You can’t believe you’ve wound up cursing yourself for such a playful prank.

Sunday goes on when you don’t answer him, in that same affectionately gentle drawl. “At one point I too found myself in the same predicament. So if I can be of any assistance to you, we could even go for a stroll if you so please.” His words make you swallow loudly, almost guiltily, and you have to break the way his gaze holds yours before you reply.

“No, I just don’t think I want to sleep next to you.” You respond quickly, an almost jumble of words that you had to press out before you backed out.

Though it makes something in your chest hurt when you see the way they change Sunday’s expression anyway. He chuckles, though not as humorous as it normally is — sounding a little more awkward than anything. “Ah, well. If you’d much prefer — I can sleep elsewhere. There is no absence of spare rooms here if you would like to make yourself more comfortable.” He says quite flatly though you can tell he seems a little hurt when you watch the feathers in his wings wilt.

But even despite all of that— his hand doesn’t leave you as it still rests on your shoulder. Instead, you feel him offer you another affectionate, warm squeeze before he’s turning to look away from you, and part of you wants to reach out to pull him back as he pushes himself to the edge of the bed.

Your body feels suddenly cold when his touch finally leaves you.

“Though, I apologise if I have upset you in any way. Should you not desire to be around me anymore, I can see to it that my schedule keeps me preoccupied until you feel better.” Sunday doesn’t look at you when he lets his legs rest over the edge of the bed, he keeps himself turned away. Yet, you can still hear how quiet his voice sounds as you push yourself up on your forearm. You’re watching him as he rests on the mattress, “If you prefer, we can discuss it more after a good night of rest.”

Then he does look at you, only for a glance, but he still has that soft look on his features despite the way you’re kicking him out your shared bedroom. “Though I doubt I will sleep much without you by my side, heh.” And despite the way his words are a low mumble, you realise that you don’t really sleep well without him either.

So you only last as long as the time it takes Sunday to rest his hands on either side of himself to push himself off the mattress before you’re reaching out to stop him. Almost pulling him back down with how quickly you grab onto his wrist. And you’re wearing a pleading look when he turns to ask what’s wrong.

“I was just kidding.. I was joking.” You say quietly, like you’re ashamed of your words — it was only a harmless prank, yet you’re left grabbing onto your lovers sleeve in the hopes he won’t leave you.

You had never expected it to back fire quite like this, but there’s a warm sort of relief that washes over when the next expression Sunday sends you is adorable. He smiles despite how upset he seemed a moment ago, and seeing that in itself makes you slump back down into your pillows as you send him a pout. Like this wasn’t all your own doing.

He sits himself back down on the bed, and this time you do roll yourself a little closer like you’ve been wanting to— until you feel his palm rest back against your shoulder again and he still squeezes. His wings return to their usual relaxed flutter as he offers you a chuckle, and you’re glad he’s atleast being a good sport about it as he taps his fingers on your skin.

“Hm, then might I assume you wouldn’t mind me coming a little closer afterall, my angel?”

౿ DR RATIO

You’re finishing your nightly routine as you reside in the bathroom, though were you to look to your right you’d be able to see where Ratio is waiting for you in bed already. He seems to be quite comfortable, his chiselled physique shirtless and tempting — which in a way makes you want to rush yourself back to him but… there’s a teasing part of you that wants to try out something before you do.

It’s more of a curious affinity than anything else. Though you can only hope it doesn’t backfire, the genius in your bed right now wasn’t particularly one for pranks. So you can only hope that he lets you sleep in bed again with him afterwards,

You try not to think about it too much, trying not to lose your already dwindling courage. But you have to settle your nerves with a swallow as you take your first step into the bedroom, and almost immediately Ratio puts down the book he was reading to give you his full attention.

Except instead of climbing into your side of the bed and up against his chest like he expects, you rest at the bottom of it as you give him a carefully neutral blink.

“I think I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight.” You say suddenly, and you half expect Ratio to laugh at you, maybe snort and call you an idiot for even suggesting as much. But instead — he offers you a gentle response, in a tone that makes it seem like he’s being careful as he watches you.

“Oh? Something troubling you?” His words ask quietly, there’s no hint of annoyance or impatience in his tone, but you hear the way the sheets rustle as he pushes himself to sit up a little straighter.

“No, nothing.” You have to answer quickly before you lose your courage again. It’s hard enough to keep eye contact when Ratio’s before you in this half-nude state, so you end up turning to gaze at something unknown in the corner of the room instead. He mirrors that look as he tries to figure out what’s going on, but when he finds nothing of interest in that direction— he turns his attention back to you.

“Then what ever is the matter?” He asks again, another low question and you have to swallow to respond to this one.

“I don’t want to sleep there tonight. I’ll sleep somewhere else.” You shrug, feigning disinterest but it’s almost immediately that it earns you a sigh. The sheets rustle again as Ratio reaches up a hand to itch at his brow, and it almost appears like he’s trying to smooth out the frown on his features before he looks at you again.

“Don’t be so ridiculous. Come here, won’t you? I’ve made your pillow as you like it.” His hand urges your attention to the pillow on your side and you take note of the way he must’ve fluffed it up. It makes it look particularly comfortable by his side, so you have to tear your gaze away with a tilt of your again before your self control snaps like a flimsy string.

You just opt to shrug instead, and that’s when Ratio really seems to be at his wits end as you watch him pull back the comforter over him from your peripheral vision. It doesn’t take him long to push himself to full height before he’s approaching you, and despite the way you know it’s a bit late for games — he doesn’t raise his voice or yell as he comes to rest opposite you.

Instead, he reaches up to guide your attention back to him, tilting your head forward with one finger and forcing your eyes to meet his as he gives you a neutral, curious look. It’s like he’s trying to examine you hard enough to peek into your mind, though only for a moment before he ultimately gives up and decides to question you instead.

Though Ratio finds himself signing again before he speaks, there’s no hint of irritation to it as he watches your face. “No matter the hour, if something is troubling you — I would much rather we discuss it sooner rather than later, so we may come to a resolution together. Would you not agree that is the most rational course?” He punctuates his sentence with a soft graze of his finger across your cheek before it rests back by his side.

And you decide to hold his gaze this time when you answer, “Nothings wrong, I just don’t want to sleep there.”

“Very well then.” Ratio mutters to you before he turns to make his way back to the bed, and part of you wilts a little at the idea of him giving up so easily, accepting that he’ll be sleeping alone tonight instead of by your side like he normally is.

But before you can find yourself feeling sorry for yourself (which would be a product of your own doing), you watch as the genius instead begins to gather up his belongings. He takes your pillow, a blanket and then his book from the bedside table, and by your next blink — he’s making his way over to you again to give you another hard to read look.

Ratio sighs when you don’t say anything, you only rest infront of him to gape— mouth opening and closing as you try to ask what he’s doing, unable to find your words suddenly. So he speaks instead, “Go on, feel free to show me the way. I do hope to actually get some rest tonight, so if you would be so kind.” And he notions towards the door with his hand as he holds your things, urging you to take a step you never even planned to take in the first place.

“W-what? What’re you doing?” You finally manage, yet it’s far too late for you to back out now. You’re already walking out of the room as he follows behind you.

Ratio scoffs, “What does it look like I’m doing? You didn’t think I was going to actually let you sleep alone, did you?” And then he offers you another sigh when his words are met with silence, as if he’s offended you would even believe he’d ever let you do as such. “How ridiculous. If you wish not to sleep in the bed, then we can sleep elsewhere. Your decision.”

It only takes a few steps before you come to rest in the doorway to the living room, the only place you could think of now that your prank has gotten a little out of hand. But you can’t handle the embarrassment of taking it back now, especially not when your lover is walking over to the couch to begin setting it up.

Ratio fluffs your pillow again before resting it down, followed by his book on the coffee table and then the comforter as he positions it comfortably on top of the cushions. And then he looks at you, beckoning you over with a mere blink before he’s guiding you in first — then following you underneath as you get comfortable. “Well, we’re here now. So I hope you don’t mind a little company.”

It’s quite silly the way it’s played out you think, but you can’t help but still find yourself comfortable as Ratio presses himself up into your side. He even makes sure to rest his arm over the back of the couch behind you, should you opt to snuggle yourself into his side — and it’s an invitation you accept quite eagerly.

He seems quite pleased with that when you press yourself up against his chest, and he lets his lips rest against the top of your head as he murmurs. “Just do tell me next time should you wish to move before I get myself comfortable. Though, I must admit — it has become increasingly more difficult to do so in your absence.” Then he lets his arm fall to rest flat against your back next as he smoothes it across your spine soothingly, like a wordless lullaby as he traces his fingertips against your skin.

“Anyway, do try to get some rest. This was your location of choice afterall, was it not?” You can feel your eyes closing at the movement of Ratio’s hand, so you can only nod at his question before thinking about how you’ll probably keep this little prank to yourself for the rest of your life.

But then he takes another careful breath before he offers you a soft kiss against your head, “I do hope you will rest better for it”

౿ MOZE

You don’t know what urges you to prank Moze like this, maybe it’s knowing his good nature or imagining the adorable, oblivious reaction he would have to your request. But you decide to do it anyway as you rest in your bedroom now — nuzzling yourself deep into the comfortable hug of your comforter as your lover readies himself to get in beside you.

His steps are silent as he approaches the bed, followed by the tilt of the mattress as he pulls back the comforter to slide in beside you. It’s an almost fluid movement, and he offers you a gentle sort of look from where you’re nuzzled into the pillows before he rests on his own.

“You look quite comfortable.” Moze mumbles beneath his breath as he reaches out to cup your cheeks, trailing his thumb along the skin there before you’re leaning into the touch. Sure you’re going to prank him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this little moment for a bit longer before you do.

Your next blink is slower than the last and he takes another breath before he speaks again, “Are you falling asleep?” Asking softly as he inches himself a little closer, and it’s almost immediately that you feel his body heat begin to consume you.

It takes everything in your body to mutter out your words before you end up slinking into a very comfortable deep sleep. “No, I don’t think I want to sleep here.” You lie, almost terribly so but Moze doesn’t seem to question it anyway as he offers you a curious look.

“You’re not comfortable?” He doesn’t mean to frown, but he’s looking at you so intently it just seems to naturally rest on his handsome features. Part of you wants to kiss out the crease in his brow but you opt not to, choosing to turn away instead so you can keep some semblance of control on your will power.

His hand retreats from your features as you do, and you press yourself up against your pillow as if to make up for the loss. Though it’s not quite as warm, “No, not really! I just don’t want to sleep next to you.” Your words muffle slightly as you speak and Moze meets them with silence for a moment before you feel him shift again.

“I see..” It’s a quiet sort of response, one that makes you consider turning back round to face him. But then the weight of the mattress leaves again as he mutters out a “That’s fine.” and you turn to check over your shoulder to see him retreating from beneath the comforter again. You can’t even deny the way it makes something in your heart sink, to the point where you almost reach out for him.

But then Moze seems to just perch himself on the edge of the bed instead, and he doesn’t say much else except an accepting. “I’ll just sleep here then.”

That’s what really urges you to turn back around to face him again, more curiously than anything and he’s already watching you when you do. “Hm? Why there?” You ask, resting your hands beneath your head on your pillow as you watch him sit upright with his feet on the floor.

But Moze’s expressions remains neutral, not even a hint of annoyance at his predicament now. Like you haven’t just kicked him out of bed. “So I can keep watch. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.” Even his words remain comforting and reassuring.

In a way that makes your brows furrow as you pout. “But that won’t be comfortable.”

“As a Shadow Guard I’ve dealt with far worse than this.” His response is quick, and though it was unlikely given who Moze was — part of you hoped he would beg to sleep next to you. So now you’re just left pouting up at him in the hopes he’ll come back.

You sigh, and you feel his hand reach out to smooth along your cheek again “Now sleep.” he pinches at your chin, and the warmth of his touch makes your lashes flutter. “Aren’t you comfortable now?”

“Not really.” You never knew it was possible to regret a prank as much as you do now. But part of you gets your hopes up when Moze leans over you a bit with your response, though he doesn’t climb back underneath the covers unfortunately. Instead, he makes a show of tucking them into your sides, trapping the warmth in as his fingers linger on your silhouette for a moment longer.

You already miss him when pulls away again, “How about now?” He asks again, and it’s so adorable that it almost makes you jump out of bed and on top of him. The expression he’s wearing is enough to have you throwing your self control to the wind with your next breath.

“I changed my mind, can you sleep with me?” You speak softly, like you’re trying to convince him but Moze only looks at you.

“I thought you weren’t comfortable.” He states quite fairly given what you said only a few minutes ago, but he doesn’t seem to argue much when you shrug and mumble out your next response.

“I was when you were here.” That’s when he gets moving, and it’s quite quickly that you find yourself surrounded by Moze’s warmth once more as he pushes himself back beneath the comforter. And this time, you don’t hesitate to press yourself up against his chest — a movement that he welcomes almost instantly as he wraps his arms around you to hug you close.

“It’s easier to keep you safe from up close.” You feel his lips press against your temple as he gives you a gentle kiss, and his hands smooth against your skin as he exhales against you after. You can almost feel the way he relaxes with how closely he holds you, he seems to be quite comfortable himself. “So you can sleep now that I’ve got you.”

౿ BLADE

Blade wasn’t much of a sleeper, he normally teetered on the edge of being asleep and awake, but he still liked the act of resting in bed next to you. Even just your presence alone served as a form of relaxant and having you as close as you are now — makes him actually feel somewhat comfortable as you rest with your cheek against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close.

But maybe that’s what makes you feel bad about the sort of prank you’re about to pull. It’s not meant to be bad spirited — but you’re just curious to how he would react were you to say you didn’t want to sleep by his side tonight.

You find even the idea of Blade’s reaction to be quite hard to imagine as you rest facing up at him now, your finger is twirling around a piece of his longer hair and he’s looking down to watch you quite intently as you lose yourself in thought. He can tell you’re considering something — it’s obvious as he reaches his hand up to cover your own.

And he gives it a squeeze as a wordless call for your attention before he’s resting them both on his chest, “Something the matter?” He asks earnestly— in that same ragged, low tone of voice that he always used and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of the sound.

But when Blade is met with silence for the first few moments, he continues. “You’re tense.”

The opportunity for your prank to commence has been presented infront of you, but when you feel a long stroke of his hand along the length of your arm— it makes you shudder. Your self control almost fumbles for a moment before you quickly respond, almost struggling to lift your gaze up to meet his.

“I don’t want to sleep here.” With you— is what you mean to say, it’s the whole point of the prank but there’s something about the tender tone of Blade’s voice that makes your sentence waver at the last second.

Especially when it’s purring along your hairline a moment later as he opts to pull you a little closer, curling his arm around you until you’re almost pulled into the crook of his neck. “And why is that?”

Another low drawl makes you shudder, eyes fluttering as Blade presses you up against him and even despite your response, it’s quite obvious that you’re lying with how relaxed your voice sounds. “I’m just not very comfortable.”

But still he hums like he’s acknowledging you anyway, and he leaves you in your comfortable position for a few moments longer before he’s groaning out a stiff, “I see.” And with his next breath, he’s moving you almost too easily— pushing you up onto his chest with only the strength of the arm that wraps around you.

And as much as the sudden movement makes you shriek as you try to balance yourself on top of Blade’s body, he doesn’t seem too bothered at all when he reaches out to steady you himself.

“Then is this better?” He asks casually as you rest on top of him now, though you’re still there gaping like a fish with how quickly he’s just moved you — it’s like your brain is still trying to catch up to your new found position. But he doesn’t look phased by it at all… clearly unaware about how easily he seems to have foiled your sorry excuse of a prank.

Part of you had already forgotten about it, “Maybe a little bit.” You opt to shrug, a little defeated. But you still rest your chin down on his chest to give him a look that seems like exactly the opposite when you snuggle into him again. You almost relax enough to fall asleep actually, until Blade decides to ultimately respond after a few moments of silence.

“Well then, would you prefer if I leave afterall?” His question makes you splutter,

“I didn’t ask you to leave.” You only thought about it actually— but only as a prank, though you admit that your reaction to him bringing it up makes you look as guilty as ever. Part of you almost considers the idea that maybe Blade could read minds, but before you can fall down that rabbit hole he speaks again.

“Is that so? I must’ve misunderstood then.” His drawl sounds again and by his next breath, both of his hands are on your hips, smoothing beneath the fabric of your t shirt before they’re reaching up to trace the length of your spine. Even if he’d found you out, you can barely find the energy to argue your innocence with how suddenly sleepy you feel now.

You’re really doing nothing to fight your case when you can barely fight sleep.

Though Blade would argue that you do seem more than comfortable now as he watches your eyes flutter and close with every stroke of his fingertips. Until he feels your breathing slow from where your chest is pressed against his and he sighs,

“Then I’ll stay with you afterall.”

౿ JING YUAN

Part of you doesn’t want to prank Jing Yuan, mostly for your own sake — the man had a peculiar way of turning everything back on you and somehow making you feel like you were the one being pranked everytime you tried. But you’re not going to let that stop you from trying anyway, even if only for a slight opportunity at getting back at him.

Afterall, he teases you so much already… it’s only fair that you retaliate.

So you bide your time and you wait, until you watch Jing Yuan groan as he drops down onto the mattress by your side and it’s almost immediately that he presses himself up against you— until you’re chest to chest. He always slept much like this, with you right up against him and as much as your body finds it hard to not just melt into him and relax — you try to keep yourself tense and awake.

So you press both of your hands up against his chest and you push until you’re far away enough to look up at him. But he’s still holding you tight despite that.

“I’m gonna sleep somewhere else tonight, I think.” You watch Jing Yuan’s expression as you tell him but there’s no frown on his features, no look of confusion or curiosity. Instead, he just tilts his head down at you and appears just as handsomely lax as always when he speaks.

“Oh? Is that right, my dear?” His tone is honey-like and you hate the way it makes your fingers almost twitch where they rest against his chest — almost sinking into the plush muscle. He holds your gaze there, “Something troubling you?”

And you have to reply quickly, before your self control wavers— so you try to turn your head away from him to ensure he doesn’t make sure of that. “No, I just don’t feel like sleeping here with you anymore.”

Your lips pout as you sound out your words, and you do your best to put some space between you and the General in bed as you do — but he seems to have no trouble wrapping his arms around you to pull you right back. It’s almost too easy as he deliberately tilts his head down to meet your line of sight, humming like he’s considering your words— you know he’s not.

But then you feel Jing Yuan’s hands rest over your hips, smoothing along the surface and you feel your body almost curl into him as he works at you. It’s like he’s smoothing any discomfort right out of you as he sends you a lazy smile.

“Well, I can’t be expected to sleep without you by my side now, can I?” It’s a teasing purr of his voice and he deliberately closes the space you’d made between you both as he pulls you back in. Until you’re close enough now that you can hear every syllable almost vibrate through your skin. “What a cruel fate that would be.”

The strength that you were using to push him back previously seems to falter, and you hate the way you can hear Jing Yuan chuckle at that. The smooth sound almost motivates you to kick him right off of the bed, if you had the strength to you actually might.

But instead you just give him a particularly cross look, and opt to continue with what you believe seems like a losing battle already.

“You heard me.” You mutter beneath your breath, just as Jing Yuan smears a little kiss along your cheek and you grumble to yourself as you try to push him away again. Except he doesn’t budge this time as his hand smooths up to hold your waist next, and he pushes himself up to lean over you a bit.

His new position urges you to roll over onto your back and you’re aware at how disadvantageous this position is for you. Especially when you’ve got him looking down at you like you’re his dinner. But his grip on your waist is quite tight that you don’t think you’d be able to break away if you even tried, which leaves you completely at Jing Yuan’s mercy when he leans down to pepper you in kisses.

“Would you like me to do something to make you more comfortable, my dear?” He asks slowly, dragging out every letter between long presses of his lips— from your cheeks to your temple, to your chin. And as much as you hate the way your prank has turned out, you can’t say you don’t love it either.

The General seems to pick up on that too when his fingertips tease beneath your shirt to squeeze at your bare skin, “No ask is ever too great when it is for you.” And the touch alongside Jing Yuan’s low tone makes you shudder.

“You are insufferable, do you know that?” You huff, because he truly was — part of you wants to ask if he knew it was a prank and was playing with you all this time. But the other part doesn’t want to accept the possibility that maybe you just bend to his will this easily, so you just allow yourself to be bathed in his kisses and the pets of his palm.

A truly unspeakable punishment.

But you hear Jing Yuan really laugh at your little outburst, in that cruelly-smooth type tone before he’s giving you a quick kiss against your lips next. “And your pranks are far too obvious, my dear.” Before he hugs you close this time and you just let yourself melt into his chest, albeit offering him a stubborn little huff knowing you’ve been found out.

Again.

Though he must admit, he finds your acts of defiance to be quite amusing. “You’ll have to try a lot harder than that next time, you know I rest much more soundly having you beside me. It’s not a luxury I would give up so easily.”

"i see."

two short, dismissive words. not a smile, not a frown —just two clipped words. you tilt your head, expecting some form of elaboration, but instead he just turns on his heel, his coat swishing behind him as he starts to walk away.

(what you don’t see is the way his hands curl into fists as he walks off, how his steps falter just around the corner, or the way he presses a hand against his chest to steady the sudden, overwhelming ache blooming there.)

…must this guy really be so blunt?!?!!

you sigh, a little laugh escaping despite your current situation. of all the possible responses you could’ve imagined, ‘i see’ definitely wasn’t one of them. you shake your head, a part of you wonders if elio is watching, silently laughing at your predicament right now.

it’s fine. really. you should’ve known better than to think he’d say anything different.

though the big problem now is, blade knows about your silly crush on him, so facing him in the future is going to be a total nightmare that you’re not ready to accept. you can already feel the embarrassment creeping up like it’s going to suffocate you.

“where's [name]?” 

blade steps into the base. silver wolf, tucked in the corner, engrossed in her console, raises a hand in greeting without looking up. blade nods in acknowledgment, before replying to kafka, "i went ahead of them," his voice sounds a little more strained than usual, before quickly turning to make a beeline for his room.

but kafka, ever perceptive, senses something’s off. she tilts her head with a smirk, "bladie, did something happen?"

he denies it with a quick shake of his head before slipping past her. having no other option, she resorts to… unconventional methods. 

with a flick of her wrist and a soft, almost melodic whisper, she purrs, "listen to me.”

the moment those familiar words hit his ears, a wave of calm washes over him, and against his will, he halts mid-step. "now tell me what happened, will you?"

he sighs and he rubs the back of his neck. “take your time, bladie.” after a long pause he speaks again, "[name] said they... they liked me."

kafka watches him closely, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "and then what happened, hmm?" she teases.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees silver wolf perk up at his words, but he pays her no mind as his thoughts are too tangled in what he’s about to say next, the words barely scraping past his throat.

...

the next hour consists of him being ‘lectured’ by his fellow coworkers.

he tries to tune out the barrage of teasing, but something about  “bladie, that's not how you reciprocate,” to “ain’t no way bro fumbled that badly,” managed to stick with him, unfortunately. (he looks over to firefly standing to the side, but she only giggles and shakes her head at him.)

but really, how was he supposed to tell them that he panicked? that he was so stunned by your confession, so overwhelmed, that he could barely form a coherent sentence? that his awkward, dismissive reply wasn’t rejection, but a pathetic attempt to mask his own vulnerability?

the thought of you avoiding him, of thinking he doesn’t care, makes his chest ache with a pain he hadn't experienced for the past few centuries. 

blade makes a mental note to find you as soon as possible. he doesn’t know how to explain himself, not entirely; words have never been his strong suit, but somehow, some way, he’ll make it up to you.

later, you return to the base, your steps hesitant as you walk in. the moment you enter, the group falls silent, all eyes snapping to you. there’s an awkward stillness in the air, like they were caught in the middle of something. your gaze sweeps over the room, and it lands on blade. when you lock eyes with him, a flush creeps up your neck, and you quickly avert your gaze.

"excuse me!" you blurt out and almost sprint to your room.

...do they all know?! this has to be the most embarrassing day of your life.

you agreed to meet kafka at a bar near your current mission to discuss your next task. the magenta haired woman had mentioned it casually when you’d asked, cryptic as usual, only revealing that the task was important but leaving out certain key details —such as conveniently leaving out the part about blade being there too, of course.

(“bladie,” kafka’s voice took on a singsong lilt, her playful smile unmistakable as she glanced at him. “you’re going to use this chance to make it up to them, ‘kay?” 

blade only kept his eyes trained on the entrance, silently waiting for you to arrive.)

running late, your prior mission having dragged on longer than expected, you found yourself hurrying to the bar, weaving through the sparse but lingering foot traffic of the evening.

after what feels like hours, you finally make it to the bar. stepping in, your eyes scan the room for kafka, when suddenly, a man steps right into your path.

the man smiles warmly, though you could tell he’s had a few to drink tonight. his tone is friendly, with just a hint of flirtation as he strikes up a conversation, casually asking if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink sometime.

he’s polite, respectful even, and there’s nothing about him that feels overly forward or aggressive —just a man who’s trying his luck, that’s all. still, you can't help but feel a slight annoyance at the timing.

as you try to figure out a way to decline his invitation, you remain oblivious to blade’s gaze —specifically, how it's fixed on you, or rather, more pointedly on the back of the man’s neck.

“you’re going to snap his neck if you keep looking at him like that.” kafka’s voice cuts through the tension, her tone teasing as she watches the exchange from the side.

“i don’t like what he’s doing,” blade mutters, his voice low and filled with an edge that suggests far more than just mild annoyance.

kafka chuckles softly to herself, already knowing where this is headed. it’s not an outright confession of jealousy, of course —he would never admit to something as petty as that, and she knows better than to push him on this one. 

nevertheless, she still catches it, her lips curling into a knowing smile. even if blade would never call it jealousy, it’s enough to push him into doing something completely out of character —something he’ll never, ever do (until now).

kafka notices immediately. her eyes widen just a fraction before she sets down her wine glass with a graceful motion, amusement dancing in her eyes. and perhaps to make sure he doesn’t look too foolish, she decides to play along and help him act the part.

a sharp clang of glass hitting the table catches your attention. your brows knit in confusion; you glance over instinctively, your eyes meeting kafka's for a brief moment. her expression is unreadable, but the faint curve of her lips makes you wonder what’s really going on.

curiosity pulls your gaze lower, to the drunk figure slumped over at her table, seemingly drunk, his head resting heavily on his arm. the spilled drink pools on the floor beside him, glinting under the dim light. 

at first, you only catch a glimpse of dark, tousled hair, streaked faintly with deep crimson at the ends —so strikingly familiar it makes you pause. then, as your eyes trace over the sharp line of his jaw and the stiff set of his shoulders, realisation dawns on you. 

wait a second.

your jaw nearly drops as you piece it together. the man lying there, seemingly drunk out of his mind, is none other than the last person you would want to see right now.

blade.

your gaze darts between him and the polite man still standing awkwardly in front of you. blade, on the other hand, never lets his guard down, so this... state of his? unprecedented. 

apologetically, you offer a small smile to the man before rushing to blade’s side, urgency in every step as you push past the tables, heart hammering in your chest.

blade’s eyes subtly flicker over to you as you approach, and you can almost sense the slightest shift in his demeanor, the thought of you giving your time to someone else, especially someone so... ineffectual —grates at him.

he swallows the ugly feeling down his throat. perhaps he’s let this irked him more than it should. but it’s too late to back out now that you’re standing right beside him, the weight of your presence making the tension in his chest only more pronounced.

as if on cue, kafka’s voice breaks the silence, “as you can see, [name], our dear bladie here has gotten himself a bit... roughed up,” she says, casually catching the wine glass that had been teetering on the edge of the table.

her lips curl into a playful smile as she glances at blade, whose jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “drinking doesn’t seem to suit him, wouldn’t you agree?” kafka continues, her tone light but unmistakably amused. her eyes flicker between the two of you, as if she’s thoroughly enjoying the situation unraveling before her far more than she should.

you blink, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected scene. your worry only deepens as you shift your attention back to blade, who remains uncharacteristically silent, his head now resting on his arm as though he really had overindulged. 

“blade,” you say softly, your voice carrying just the slightest edge of concern. “what happened?” 

before he can answer —or before he’s forced to lie —kafka chuckles, waving a hand as if to dismiss your worry. 

“oh, nothing serious. he just got a little too carried away with his drink.” she leans back in her chair, a sly glint in her eye that you’re too preoccupied to notice. your gaze falls back to blade, his hair slightly tousled.

without thinking, you reach out, gently brushing a strand strand from his forehead. his eyes flutter open at the contact —those striking, sharp eyes you’ve always found yourself drawn to, dark yet you can’t bring yourself to look away from. 

you notice the faint redness creeping across his cheeks and the line of his jaw, down to his neck. his skin hot to the touch under your fingers. “you’re warm,” you murmur softly, assuming the alcohol is to blame.

if only you knew the warmth searing through him has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with you. 

“ah,” kafka hums, pulling you out of your thoughts. “it seems something urgent has come up that needs my attention.” there’s an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes. “i’ll leave you two to it.”

you glance at her, startled. “wait, what about—?”

“don’t worry about it,” she interjects, already getting up from her seat. “the bill is already on my tab.” 

well, that wasn’t what you were about to ask anyway! 

a sly smile curls her lips, and she tilts her head ever so slightly. “hmm, it’s rare to see him like this. [name], you’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” her tone is light, but the underlying implication is clear, leaving you flustered as she turns on her heel, striding off, leaving the two of you alone.

blade leans heavily against you, his tall frame making it an awkward challenge to keep him upright as you guide him out of the bar. one arm is slung over your shoulder, while his other hangs haphazardly against his side.

his head is tilted forward, strands of his dark, crimson-tipped hair brushing against your cheek, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him —whether from his predicament or his proximity, you’re not sure.

you shift your grip, looping an arm around his waist for better support, and his body tenses slightly under your touch. for someone playing the part of drunk so convincingly, he’s strangely aware of your every movement, his hand tightening just faintly on your shoulder when you stumble over a crack in the pavement.

“blade,” you murmur under your breath, trying to shift his weight more evenly as you inch forward. “you’re not making this very easy, you know.”

casting a glance his way, you’re met with a low, almost lazy hum in response. his expression is nothing short of a hazy indifference, though you swear you catch a flicker of clarity in his eyes —a brief, focused intensity that seems out of place, before he looks away.

you can feel the heat of his breath against your temple as he wavers with every step. the night air is cool, but the warmth radiating from his body is undeniable, pressing against your side in a way that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. the closeness between you feels almost intimate in a way that will surely have you screaming into your pillow later that night. 

as you continue down the empty street, blade’s mind races; this is his chance. he knows it. he should say something now, anything, to make it clear —to tell you how he feels. (and how it’s been eating at him for longer than he cares to admit.)

this is it, the moment he’s been waiting for, but all he can do is breathe in the scent of your skin and the warmth of your touch. the sensation is all too familiar, like the pounding in his chest —but this time, it’s not from the heat of battle.

just how much longer he has to deal with this utterly insufferable feeling?

it’s worse now, because as you navigate through the halls of the base, he’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means to care for someone —to be vulnerable. 

“here,” you say softly as you stop in front of the door to his room.

he doesn’t want this moment to end. 

you glance at him then, finally meeting his eyes, and the look in them knocks the breath from your lungs. they’re hazy, yes, but there's a sharpness beneath the mask of drunkenness, a quiet intensity that makes your heart beat a little faster.

you clear your throat, breaking the silence. "do you need anything else?"

"no," he answers, almost reluctantly. "i’ll be alright."

a twinge of disappointment surges through you. right… it was foolish to expect anything different. he’s already rejected you, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous for thinking it would be any other way.

you stand there for a moment, the silence between you growing thicker with each passing second, before you force yourself to nod, your voice soft as you try to mask the heaviness in your chest.

“goodnight then."

just as you turn to leave, you feel a sudden pull on your hand, your wrist tugged back with surprising gentleness.

"wait," blade suddenly says, and this time, there's no mistaking the sincerity in it. "thank you.”

his bandaged hand rests over yours, and a soft breath escapes you; flustered, you open your mouth to respond, ready to brush it off.

"oh! It's no pro—"

but you’re cut off before you can finish. he raises your hand, pressing his lips to the back of your palm in a soft, lingering kiss.

"—blem..."

your voice falters slightly as a rush of warmth spreads through you. every nerve in your body seems to spark awake all at once, making you hyper-aware of the spot from where his lips brushed against your skin. you freeze, your breath caught in your throat, unable to do anything but stand there, your hand still resting in his.

then, as if nothing happened, he steps back into his room and shuts the door behind him, leaving you standing there, still processing the unexpected moment.

safe to say you got little to no sleep that night. you roll over, staring at the ceiling, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. it feels ridiculous, embarrassing even, how many times you've replayed that scene in your head every time you close your eyes.

you couldn’t help but smile to yourself like a fool. 

(“so bladie, how’d it go?” / “...”) 

you hadn’t even planned on leaving the base today, let alone stepping foot into the brightly lit chaos of an arcade, but silver wolf had insisted —no, nagged, until you caved. and somehow she’d managed to drag blade (of all people) along, her smug grin all too telling as she pushed the two of you together and skipped off to “go play some gachas”

now, you stand awkwardly by blade’s side, the flashing lights casting a colorful glow over his impassive face. it’s hard to ignore how out of place he looks, his dark coat, sunglasses, and the mask covering his lower face a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere. 

yet, somehow, he doesn’t seem to mind the sharp sounds of arcade machines beeping nor the kids screaming in excitement. he just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you fumble with a stack of game tokens.

“you look thrilled,” you mutter, a sarcastic tone in your voice as you glance at him.  it’s strange, though —there’s something oddly endearing about the way he’s standing there, the dark lenses of his sunglasses reflecting a faint outline of your own face. you catch yourself staring for just a moment too long, wishing you could see beyond the lens, wishing you could read his eyes—

you shake the thought off, it’s all just wishful thinking.

behind the shield of his sunglasses, blade’s eyes tracked your every subtle movement, almost unconsciously. he caught the way your expression softened as you turned toward the claw machine, how your lips curved ever so slightly when your gaze settled on that… thing.

it was maddening, how effortlessly you held his focus, how even a trivial moment like this could stir something deep in him. he told himself it was nothing, but the tightening in his chest said otherwise. 

he wasn’t one to indulge in sentiment, yet something about the way you stared at that silly plush made him restless, made him want to do something about it, if only to keep that smile on your face a little longer.

would your smile grow brighter if that plush were in your hands? 

“let’s go.”

“to where…?” you asked, glancing back at him, the curiosity evident in your voice.

he didn’t answer immediately, but you felt the familiar tug at your hand once again, gentle and insistent, as his gaze slips toward the claw machine where you had been staring earlier.

it’s not hard to imagine the scene as a sweet little moment, with him focused on the claw machine, trying to win you a plush like a doting partner would. 

with a soft click, the claw tightens around the plush, and before you can react, it’s being lifted out of the pile, swinging toward the prize chute. you can't help but stare as he pulls the soft toy from the machine with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

(you pocket the rest of the tokens. guess he won’t be needing those…  for a first-timer, he sure got lucky —must be beginners' luck, huh?)

you blink, slightly impressed. “wow, you’re good at this,” you remark, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. 

without a word, he hands the plushie to you. 

you tilt your head slightly, a bit unsure. “for me...?”

“it's yours. take it." he looks to the side; suddenly thankful for the mask —if it weren't for that, you'd surely see the crimson tint creeping up his cheeks right now.

you hesitate for a second longer before reaching out to take it, your fingers brushing against his, a tingle of heat pulses through you, leaving your hand feeling strangely warm.

“th-thank you," you manage to spit out, and your eyes dart away, suddenly very aware of how close he is. surely, this isn’t good for your heart!

the twilight sky stretches wide, the clouds are heavy, and you’re looking oh so earnestly at him. his heart beats a little faster, louder now, as if his body knows exactly what he wants but refuses to let him act on it.

but then, he blinks —once, twice; snapping himself back to reality. he can feel the space between you growing smaller, your presence growing closer.

his eyelids flutter shut instinctively.

and then, the soft press of your lips against his cheek.

a soft sigh escapes him, and his eyes crack open. if you could see his expression right now, you'd catch the vulnerability that flashes in his gaze. he swears he can feel the warmth of your kiss in his very bones.

though not quite the kiss he imagined… it was something. (re: you got his hopes up)

the shock of your own actions hits you like a wave. you swallow thickly, “sorry —i'll go find silver wolf.” avoiding his gaze as you fumble with the tokens in your hand. "i… i’ll pass the extra tokens to her."

without waiting for a response, you turn and hurry off, your pulse pounding in your ears, praying that the ground would swallow you whole.

that night, you lay in bed, the plushie clutched tightly in your arms. the softness of it contrasts sharply with the rush of confusion filling your chest. 

why was he being so kind to you? after everything, after the way he rejected you just a few days ago, it made no sense. his actions felt contradictory.

you try to push the memory of the kiss out of your mind; impulsive decisions… often lead to mortifying outcomes. though when you glanced at him afterward, you could’ve sworn his ears were tinged with red, just peeking out from beneath his hair. nevermind, it’s probably your mind playing tricks on you.

blade, who’s as cold as the frost-kissed dusk, walks beside you through the lively festival, his dark coat a striking contrast to the vibrant reds and greens around you.

the faint scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant carolers. he doesn’t say much, but there’s something about the way his gloved hand brushes yours, intentionally or not —that makes the chill in the air feel less biting.

you swallow, focusing on the festive stalls ahead, the decorations glittering in the night. “you don't have to stick around, you know. i can manage by myself.”

his steps slow just slightly, and he turns his head toward you, finally speaking. “you think i’d just leave you here?”

the words catch you off guard, and you fumble for a response. “i-i just meant—”

“relax.” he interrupts, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips; his hand grazing yours again. this time, his fingers linger for a moment longer, almost as if testing the waters, before retreating back into the safety of his pocket.

your cheeks flush, and you pretend to be deeply interested in a nearby stall selling hand-knit scarves. just then, his voice cuts through the festive hum. “last week… when you said you liked me,” he starts, and your breath catches.

you whirl back to face him, your heart pounding. “don’t worry about it! really, i—”

“i wasn’t rejecting you,” he says, with an unexpected gentleness in his gaze. “i like you too, [name].”

blade removes his coat, the fabric warm against the cold air as he drapes it around your shoulders, pulling you closer. you stumble, your hand instinctively pressing against his chest to catch your balance.

you look up at him, your breath quickening, as his face draws closer, his eyes locked on yours with that familiar intensity. you let your eyelids flutter shut, lips trembling, heart pounding in your chest as the space between you narrows.

but instead of the kiss you were anticipating, you feel the gentle warmth of his lips brush against your forehead.

your eyes snap open in confusion, only to meet his smirking face. oh... this asshole!

“what?" he teases, his tone deceptively casual. “you seem pretty eager,” his voice drops an octave, hand gently tilting your chin as he leans in just close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin.

you glare up at him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. the way your lips quiver, unable to hold his gaze for long; the fact that he actually adores that flustered expression on your face... well, that’s when he realises. he’s too far gone.

what a dumbass lmfao

He’s drawn to a balance between practicality and elegance—someone whose style is functional yet carries an artistic flair, a quiet rebellion against conformity.

A piercing gaze, sharp and confident, mesmerizes him. He loves the challenge of eyes that seem to see past his charm and into the broken truths he hides.

Scars, blemishes, or physical imperfections catch his attention. They whisper untold stories he aches to unravel, providing a glimpse into the person beyond the surface.

Personality:

Aventurine seeks a partner who thrives in the dance of words and wit. He’s fascinated by someone who can keep him guessing—playfully resistant to his charm and never predictable.

He’s drawn to people who’ve endured hardship and emerged stronger, finding common ground in shared trauma or survival instincts.

While Aventurine guards his vulnerability, he craves someone with the emotional intelligence to see past his bravado. Their ability to intuit his needs, even when unspoken, creates a sense of safety.

He admires a grounding presence—someone self-assured yet humble, who can counterbalance his more dramatic tendencies without overshadowing him.

Compatibility:

High-stakes situations invigorate him, so he appreciates a partner who thrives under pressure. Whether it’s in a game of strategy or a tense negotiation, he seeks someone who can match his composure and cunning.

Trust is a slow-burning process for Aventurine. His partner must be patient, willing to navigate his walls without forcing him to open up before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Aventurine doesn’t just want a lover—he needs a partner-in-crime. Someone willing to embrace the thrill of calculated risks, whether it’s a dangerous gamble or a perfectly executed scheme.

They balance his indulgent tendencies, providing a steady hand when he flirts with self-destruction. Together, they form a dynamic duo—equal parts chaos and control.

Appearance:

Blade has little concern for traditional beauty, focusing instead on the feeling someone evokes. He’s drawn to understated traits that exude calm, mystery, or quiet strength.

A serene or enigmatic aura captivates him, especially in those who seem like they’ve weathered storms of their own. Scars or imperfections are less flaws and more badges of survival—silent testaments to a shared pain.

There’s a certain poetry in subtlety that Blade finds magnetic, such as the way someone carries themselves or a fleeting, knowing glance.

Personality:

Blade’s ideal partner must embody gentle resilience—a quiet strength that offers stability amidst his chaos. He’s not drawn to overt displays of power but rather to those who endure with grace.

His partner needs to respect his emotional distance and allow their bond to deepen organically. They provide solace through presence, not pressure.

Understanding his guilt and anger without pitying him is crucial. He needs someone who offers comfort without trying to “fix” him.

He admires individuals who remain true to themselves, even in the face of his volatility. Their grounded nature becomes his anchor.

Compatibility:

Blade struggles with verbal affection and grand gestures. His partner must value actions over words—small, meaningful gestures like a shared silence or a comforting touch.

Loyalty is paramount. Blade often tests boundaries, whether intentionally or not, and needs a partner who remains steadfast in their care.

Dynamic:

Blade seeks a relationship built on mutual protection. His ideal partner isn’t there to save him but to walk beside him as he confronts his demons.

Their love is a slow-burning fire, marked by quiet moments of vulnerability and unspoken understanding. They don’t demand his trust but earn it, piece by fractured piece.

Appearance:

Sunday gravitates toward those with an ethereal or graceful quality—a beauty that feels otherworldly yet grounded. He appreciates the quiet elegance that reflects his Halovian heritage.

Symbolic trinkets or meaningful accessories, like earrings or pendants, resonate deeply with him, mirroring his love for intricate details and subtle meaning.

Personality:

Sunday is drawn to those who counter his melancholic worldview with a hopeful, compassionate perspective. He needs someone who gently challenges his ideals without dismissing his emotions.

His partner must possess a quiet, unwavering self-confidence. They confront his twisted philosophies with patience and understanding, offering a grounding presence.

A partner with a playful streak appeals to him, especially when it contrasts with his solemn demeanor. Their lightheartedness reminds him of life’s simple joys.

Compatibility:

Sunday needs a partner who can understand his lofty ideals and gently challenge them, offering a grounded perspective that helps him reconcile his desire for a perfect world with the imperfections of reality. They should help him navigate his philosophical struggles without dismissing his emotions.

Sunday thrives in a relationship where emotional depth is paired with moments of lightness. His ideal partner balances serious conversations with a playful streak that brings joy and reminds him of life’s simple pleasures, helping him reconnect with spontaneous joy.

Trust is built slowly for Sunday, so his partner must be patient, allowing their bond to deepen organically. They should provide stability and comfort, supporting him as he works through his emotional walls and guiding him toward growth without forcing him to change before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Sunday’s ideal relationship thrives on emotional intimacy. His partner navigates his philosophical struggles with care, providing warmth and optimism without trying to fix him.

They challenge his tendency to idealize perfection, helping him rediscover beauty in imperfection and spontaneity.

Appearance:

Boothill is drawn to raw, unrefined beauty—someone who’s lived and survived, marked by the stories their body tells. Scars, tattoos, and bold fashion choices are a reflection of resilience and adventure, and he admires individuals who wear their history as a badge of honor. He’s captivated by those who can rock vibrant, contrasting colors or mismatched styles with confidence, projecting a sense of strength and individuality.

He’s particularly fond of eyes that burn with fire and determination—eyes that match his intensity, yet hold a vulnerability only the right person can see. Confidence is key, but it’s that unpolished confidence, the kind that’s earned through hardship, that pulls him in.

Personality:

Boothill craves a partner who can match his fierce energy and boldness. He’s drawn to those who share his burning passion for justice and fighting for what’s right, even if it means breaking the rules. He admires fearless individuals who challenge authority and embrace a world of gray, not just black and white.

A sharp, witty partner who can banter with him is essential—they need to hold their ground in arguments, but still know how to make him laugh. Beneath his hard exterior, he secretly yearns for warmth and loyalty, someone who sees past his rough exterior and recognizes the vulnerabilities hidden underneath.

Patience is a challenge for him, but he seeks someone who can balance his impulsive nature, tempering his decisions with wisdom while never dulling his fire. The ideal partner doesn’t just soothe his rage—they fan the flames in the best way possible, stoking the fires of his passion and his purpose.

Compatibility:

Boothill’s partner would have to keep up with his relentless pace, matching him in the heat of battle as much as in life. They must be able to stand beside him during intense moments of action, yet offer solace and understanding in quieter, more reflective ones. His ideal relationship is built on equal footing—where passion and respect for one another fuel their connection.

Their dynamic would never be boring—full of challenges, shared adventures, and a fiery bond formed through trials, risks, and the occasional reckless decision. They would push each other toward greatness, not with soothing words, but through daring acts of loyalty and love.

Dynamic:

Boothill wants a relationship full of intensity, one where his partner isn’t afraid to stand by him, even if it means navigating chaos or defying the odds together.

This is not a relationship where either party is passive—it’s a partnership of equals, where each individual’s strength and spirit fuel the other. Their love would burn brightly, fueled by both passion and unshakable loyalty, with both of them walking side by side through any storm, ready to fight for each other and what they believe in.

Appearance:

Jing Yuan is drawn to elegance and grace—someone whose appearance radiates composure and quiet strength. He appreciates fine details and a refined aesthetic, as he values artistry in all aspects of life. A partner who can carry themselves with quiet dignity, with clothing that flows or intricate designs, would catch his attention.

However, while Jing Yuan admires serenity, he finds himself captivated by the unexpected spark in someone’s personality. A playful glint in the eye or a mischievous smile is enough to unsettle his calm demeanor, drawing him in even more. He appreciates someone who can maintain their elegance but isn’t afraid to reveal the more unpredictable, adventurous sides of themselves when the moment calls for it.

Personality:

Jing Yuan is in search of a partner who has a calm, patient demeanor—someone who understands the complexities of his strategic mind and the burdens he carries. His ideal partner is not only compassionate and wise, but also someone who can see the long-term view, matching his ability to think and plan for the future.

At the same time, he’s charmed by a partner who can bring a sense of spontaneity to his life. While he thrives on stability, he appreciates the occasional touch of unpredictability—someone who can light a fire under his more sedentary tendencies, adding a dash of excitement to the otherwise peaceful routines he enjoys. He values a balance of tranquility and energy, where his partner’s playfulness can bring joy without overwhelming him.

Compatibility:

Jing Yuan’s ideal partner would have the patience to stand by him through quiet moments of reflection, as well as the capacity to engage with him in deep, meaningful conversations. They would respect his thoughtful, strategic nature, while also encouraging him to take moments of respite, enjoying the beauty of life’s simpler pleasures together.

They would need to understand his need for a sense of long-term stability, yet not let him become too withdrawn or passive. A deep intellectual connection, rooted in shared wisdom and mutual understanding, would lay the foundation of their bond. Their connection would be built on the steady progression of trust and affection, growing subtly over time.

Dynamic:

Jing Yuan seeks a partner who can offer emotional intimacy without pressuring him for more than he’s ready to give. They’d share moments of serene companionship, where quiet silences are comfortable, and words aren’t necessary to convey their bond. However, his ideal partner wouldn’t shy away from challenging him, nudging him out of his intellectual ruts and helping him see the world in a new light.

The dynamic would be one of mutual respect, with his partner both grounding him and adding an unpredictable spark to his life. While he values peacefulness, he enjoys the occasional adventure or light-hearted moments that break through his more serious demeanor, reminding him that even in the pursuit of wisdom, life can be full of wonder.

having meandered around the foresty northern borders not too far from where your family estate is, you certainly were not expecting to stumble across a rotting corpse smack-dab in the middle of your path! okay, well, rotting may not be the most suitable term, but the slumped body, battered and bruised and bloodied, you accidentally kicked was very much a corpse.

you had contemplated leaving the body there but, upon seeing a bloodied insignia of an all-too familiar ducal household, you decided you wanted to live a little longer. of course, this led to you lugging a slumped, muscle-packed warrior of a man all the way to where your estate was, heaving and huffing with your body trembling under the weight.

(to say you were just about ready to collapse when the family knights spotted your emerging figure was no understatement!)

whisked away into a guest room near your own, your parents called for the family doctor immediately. when the blood was cleaned and his wounds were wrapped, the sight of his injuries mending themselves was sure to be a sight you would never be able to rid your mind of. it was a strange but intriguing phenomenon to see his skin stitched anew, that horrid sight of him collapsed in the forestry almost like that of a dream.

your father immediately sent word to the duke’s estate to notify them of the circumstances. in the meanwhile, the man of the hour was unconscious for three days. seeing as how you were the one to find him, you took it upon yourself to help look after his well-being. changing his bandages, regularly wiping the accumulating sweat with a freshly damp cloth, ensuring the room is well-ventilated — you did the lot!

(sometimes you would stare at his resting face, wondering just how much more handsome he would be with his eyes open; only to retract that sentiment when recalling the tales about how his eyes could burn a man alive. exaggerated or not, he is still a dangerous individual you would rather not further entangle yourself with.)

with his people having retrieved their master from your care, promises of hefty compensation for taking care of their lord ringing in your ears, you were ready to sweep the whole ordeal under the rug and never get yourself involved with a man like him again! after all, he is the fearful duke responsible for your region, while you’re just another noble within his domain.

so, naturally, when you first heard of your soon-to-be marriage, you thought your parents did something to offend him and were sending you as a sacrifice meant to appease his wrath.

because, well, why else would the very same duke infamous for having zero interest in romantic and political marriages be sending a letter for your hand in marriage of his own accord? being unconscious the entirety of the time made him unable to see you, let alone know your family, so of course that meant his staff had filled him in on what happened. but why would he initiate this proposal without even knowing who you are first???

(did you get a say in this? no. would you have refused? yes. did your parents care about you and your well-being? aside from their apologetic gazes at your slack-jawed reaction and somewhat rational reasoning of “his grace may have an infamous reputation, but he is not a cruel ruler nor man,” you would like to deny the parental affection they have given you thus far in favour of objecting the claim.)

well, no matter. there was little time to prepare for his arrival to your estate, as the letter stated he would be arriving to escort you himself.

after much fuss over your clothing and luggage, the day arrived; you were going to see him again, except this time, he would see you as well.

a regal carriage entered the estate’s gates. the door swung open. a black gloved hand was the first to appear, followed by a ducked head of long navy hair, a familiar figure donning a freshly pressed suit and black overcoat, and finally — finally — a pair of burning crimson-marigold met your own gaze.

you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline of your fight or flight response kicking in or the butterflies which ruptured within you that caused your heart rate to increase, but you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him.

he stopped in front of you, the features you once saw up close felt more complete than ever with the addition of his eyes open.

and thus, with your palm settled atop his outstretched gloved one, your fate was sealed.

(man. was this the compensation the staff were saying to you as they left…?)

that was two years ago.

savage. cold-blooded. inhumane. brute. monster. these were some of the ways in which duke blade was described. the man who currently sits on the edge of the bed watching you dress his wounds, however, is much different than the public opinion.

ever since exchanging vows at the altar and slipping sacred rings of matrimony onto each other’s fingers, you have come to know many sides of blade you never thought possible.

and while he rarely spoke in the beginning, his actions spoke louder than any voice could ever hope to measure up to. and, eventually, he became more vocal in regards to his feelings for you, just as you have with yours upon witnessing firsthand his true character.

from his battle-haggard, near manic state when on the verge of succumbing to the curse before falling into your healing embrace, to his tender fleeting touches and ever-adoring affection repressed within his gaze when in the presence of others, you have seen it all.

the process of getting to know and understand the intricacies of his life is almost like unravelling layers upon layers of thin bandage wrapped tightly around a gaping wound, hoping to block out the vulnerabilities which could be exposed. it was rocky at first, you being in an unfamiliar environment while he had his own inner battles to deal with first and foremost, but time carved its path for the two of you to partake in talks lasting late into the night, a subtle fondness growing more pronounced as familiarity grew alongside it.

and, of course, the time he returned from a subjugation battle-worn and mind having been overriden with mania. it was the first you’d seen him in such a loss of control. knights were rushing to subdue him while the servants desperately tried to usher your bewildered form some place safe, as though this had been a common occurrence well before you came into the picture. that hadn’t gone as planned, however, as the moment blade’s heaving figure locked eyes with you, a state of chaos ensued the moment he broke through the wall of knights with ease and appeared in front of you. no time was wasted when he lunged, a panic chorus of cries following suit as you remained rooted in place.

while you would never forget the blown-out, near-animalistic look in his eyes as he drew closer at an impossible speed, the gentle — almost reverent — manner in which he embraced you then, rigid body instantly relaxing against you, would forever be the turning point of your relationship, as well as a long-cherished memory of his first true feelings.

a dull sensation poking the space between your brows snaps you out of your thoughts. “stop frowning. i’ll be fine like always.”

your hands pause in their ministrations, hovering over his bare torso where you finished tying up a bandage. a blink and a sigh, another swab of disinfectant is in your hands working at the wound on his bicep.

“but that doesn’t mean i like seeing you return to me wounded,” you mutter bitterly, blatantly ignoring his stare. “i know you can take care of yourself, what with that regenerative ability of yours, but i still worry over you. you can still feel the pain, after all, and not to mention that curse—”

a swift tug forward abruptly cuts you off, your words fizzling on the tip of your tongue as a familiar warmth encases you in its entirety. instinctively, your hands grip onto his shoulders, the coarse material of bandages not unfamiliar to your touch, while blade’s hands are splayed across the expanse of your back as he holds you against his seated form.

his nose nudges along the slope of your neck, the shape of your jaw, the contours of your face, a trail of soft kisses leaving searing imprints in its wake.

a deep breath, a ticklish sensation, a thrumming heartbeat.

and when he rests his forehead against your own, crimson-marigold eyes dyed with devotion and seeping ardour, you think the world will be okay.