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Chapter Text

Moments like these were rare once, but after peace has been restored in Fódlan, it isn’t that uncommon for Hubert and Jeritza to take a walk in the royal gardens, hand in hand, either in silence or discussing some trivial matter.

They never discuss anything serious during these moments, because even if they always make sure they’re alone, spies could be anywhere, and nobody needs to know about their next moves.

In truth, there’s a hidden meaning behind the nonsense they’re speaking about: it’s a code, a code that Hubert himself came up with, that allows them to share sensible information without having other ears also getting to know about it.

Some may say this is too much, but for people like them, idleness is not an option.

Still, sometimes they would allow themselves some actual idle chatting, like in this exact moment as Hubert complains about one of the nobles he had to deal with during this morning’s council.

Apparently, he did all he could to get on Hubert’s nerves, even though he remained as cold and polite as ever, lest risking a scandal.

Jeritza listens to him, occasionally nodding when Hubert expects it, but otherwise he’s silent. Still, he doesn’t object when Hubert reaches for his hand and holds it. He isn’t saying anything about it, so he might’ve done it instinctively, but Jeritza doesn’t particularly care about finding out, so he doesn’t ask.

Hubert’s hand is strangely warm.

It doesn’t happen often that Jeritza gets to feel his charred, ruined and blacked skin either: Hubert always wears gloves, but not that day, or at least, not with him.

It is a hot day after all, and Jeritza knows how hot it feels when you wear too many layers – he does the same, not wanting people to look at his scars. Under this aspect, they’re the same.

If he looks down, Jeritza can see how soaked in blood they both are.

The number of people they kill gets higher day by day. Is it right for such dark people to share such a simple and warm contact?

The blood is dripping on the ground, painting red the grass they’re walking on. If he concentrates, he can even hear the screams of their victims.

He wonders if this happens to Hubert as well, but he suspects he knows the answer. They are both messed up people, there’s no denying that.

Even for people like them, however, there must be a place in this world, and why shouldn’t it be at each other’s side?

It may not be what they deserve, but why wasting time wondering about it, instead of simply enjoying it? It would be, as Hubert would say it, “a pointless waste of time and energy that could be well spent for something else”.

He pushes his thought deep down within himself and turns with his attention back to Hubert, who seems still intent on talking; if he had noticed something wrong with him, he doesn’t mention it.

And so the pair keeps strolling through the royal gardens, seemingly unaffected, thought Jeritza feels a gentle squeeze at his hand from Hubert.

He squeezes back.

Chapter Text

It’s been a long time since Eliwood admitted his feelings for Lowen, but the knight still feels quite hesitant about this; not that he doesn’t love Eliwood – quite the opposite in fact – but… wouldn’t it be scandalous? He’s Marquess Pherae and what is he? Just a lowly knight.

He thought from the start that this was not going to last, but it’s been a couple of years since the war ended already, and Eliwood is still his. He can’t even describe how happy he feels about it; even if this seems too good to be true, he intends to enjoy it while it lasts, even if one day he might wake up and find out this was all a pleasant dream.

When Eliwood takes his hand, smiling at him with those soft lips and kind eyes, he always feels about to pass out  at any second for how good it feels, even if it’s one of the simplest gestures that exist in this world.

What he loves more than anything, however, is when they can hold each other, like they’re doing in this exact moment.

They should get some rest, as the next day Lord Hector is going to visit and it will surely be a busy day, but sleep doesn’t come to them easily. It’s weird: with the quiet and peaceful atmosphere that surrounds them, it shouldn’t be that hard, but instead they both are pretty awake, enjoying the warmth that is coming from the other as they hold each other close, with Lowen resting his head on Eliwood’s chest as the other plays with his hair, caressing it.

To tell the truth, Lowen actually feels more asleep than awake, but he still feels the faint sensation of Eliwood’s touch, keeping him awake along with his voice. He’s humming a song, a motive that sounds familiar to Lowen’s ears, but that he can’t identify for the life of him.

Eventually, he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

- Eliwood, that song… -.

Those words snap Eliwood out of thoughts, and he looks at Lowen almost sheepishly, being caught while he was doing something absentmindedly.

- O-oh… It’s something Nils used to play -, he replies then, only to add, - Was I disturbing you? -.

- Not at all -.

- Alright -.

Silence.

Lowen shifts under the covers, trying to get to a more comfortable position. He can’t help but to feel a bit uneasy at the idea of having ruined the atmosphere – now colder than before – but it actually takes him some time to get able to speak again.

- Can you sing again? -, he asks, voice soft.

Eliwood turns his head to look at him.

- You really want me to? -, he asks, with a bit of hesitation in his voice.

Lowen smiles, raising himself on one elbow to be able to leave a kiss on his nose – adorable, truly adorable.

- Yes. I liked it -, he admits, and Eliwood smiles.

There it is, that expression that Lowen loves so much. He’d do anything to see Eliwood smile like that every day.

Eliwood’s voice fills the room again, and Lowen relaxes his body again, closing his eyes and enjoying the performance.

He sighs, truly happy, even though it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake, and no matter how hard he’s trying, it’s only a matter of time before Lowen falls completely asleep, with a happy smile on his face.

Still, Eliwood still follows him in his dreams, and Lowen swears that he can hear his voice sing for him.

It’s truly a wonderful dream.

Chapter Text

Today neither of them want to go out, but this doesn’t mean that they won’t do anything, in fact they’ll do something Forde’s been bothering Kyle about for a while: a Disney movie marathon.

To be quite honest, although he did like some of those when he was a kid, Kyle doesn’t particularly remember any of them, something that, according to Forde, is “unacceptable”. Thus came the idea for a marathon, something Kyle wasn’t really looking forward to, but he knows Forde’s very passionate about it – he wishes to get into animation, so this is kind of his bread and butter – so in the end he could only say yes.

- Didn’t you hate Disney? -, he asks though, because Forde’s very outspoken about his dislike of the big company.

- The fact that I hate that the company has basically bought the entire entertainment market doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate the artistry of the classics -, Forde replies.

Fair enough.

They settle on the couch. They have snacks, they have a sheet to protect them from the wintery night, and they have the movies carefully chosen by Forde.

They’re ready to spend an entire night watching TV like a couple of teenagers, but hey, things could be much worse.

As soon as they put the first movie on, however, Kyle tunes it out.

He doesn’t do it out of malice, let it be clear, but Forde has this little thing that, as soon as something he’s interested in comes up, he begins rambling about it and info dumping, and Kyle would rather listen to that.

He may not understand more than half of what Forde is saying, but damn if he doesn’t love listening to him. He can hear his passion in the way he talks, and he’s more than happy to give him a chance to express himself.

He may not be interested in the argument by himself, but he can’t help but to be influenced by Forde’s enthusiasm.

After all, isn’t one of the first rules of being a good boyfriend to always listen to your partner? And of course, Kyle wants to be a good boyfriend.

- Are you even paying attention to the movie? -, Forde asks at some point.

- Yes -, answers Kyle, lying without shame.

To be quite honest, he doubts he’d find anything on the TV screen more interesting than the sound of Forde’s voice, the movements of his mouth, the way his eyes flicker with excitement when he recognizes an animation technique that he likes, the way hair would get on his face and the way he’d tuck it behind his ear again and again.

That is something that is truly worth watching.

Chapter Text

Naesala has joined Pelleas on the caravan after it left the capital.

It’s weird looking at a laguz trying to fit his wings inside such a small space, but somehow, Naesala always manages. Practice makes perfect, as they say, and this isn’t the first time they do something like this: it has happened already, in fact, that they’d join in their travel towards the occasional diplomatic council.

At first, they just talked. After the first few times when Pelleas could almost only feel a big deal of intimidation, he found himself at ease with someone who, despite being so different from him, has lived through similar experiences.

They have much they need to heal from, and even though Pelleas could never fathom the reason why Naesala sought him in the first place, it must be for this, right?

Then… Things started to change.

They got closer, much closer, and these became occasions to see each other without anything else bothering them.

One time, Naesala jokingly called these “our secret little dates” and Pelleas chuckled with mirth. If this had happened some time ago, he would’ve blushed and looked the other way, but times have changed, and Pelleas with them.

Now that an entire country’s weight has been lifted from his shoulders, Pelleas doesn’t feel a sense of dread every time he has to make a decision. Not to say that diplomatic work isn’t important as well, but it’s definitely better. Besides, he’s learning a few tricks on the go, and every council is an occasion from him to put his skills to the test.

There is little time to think when he feels a pair of lips against his, pressed in that familiar smirk that Pelleas now knows very well, but he doesn’t let himself be completely overtaken, and he presses back.

It isn’t even half as aggressive as it actually sounds; this time, they’re taking things slow. The voyage will be long, so there’s no rush.

It looks like, this time at least, Naesala wants to also strike a conversation, and in fact between one kiss and the other, he asks:

- So, what are your plans for this meeting? -.

A small smile appears on Pelleas’ lips.

- Forgive me, but it would be unwise to reveal this information this early -.

He hears the other chuckle, but it isn’t a mocking laugh; Naesala’s genuinely endeared.

- Good. You’re learning -, is what he says before going back to kissing without leaving Pelleas not even one option to retort, but in all honesty, he doesn’t mind.

As he feels the other’s dextrous hands first on his thighs, then on his hips, he can only confirm this: he doesn’t mind at all.

Chapter Text

Sylvain really loves kisses. Not that Felix is surprised.

At first, he doesn’t really see the appeal of it: what’s so good about exchanging saliva with another person?

He especially hates when Sylvain tries to kiss him right after waking up, those days when Felix has agreed to spend the night with him in his dorm, so much that he always has to push him away. Not that it stops Sylvain – it never does – but at this point Felix does it more to prove a point than anything else. It’s just… how hard it would be to wait until they’ve brushed their teeth? Morning breath isn’t something Felix is particularly fond of after all.

With time – and habit – things change, however.

It must be the absence of that sweet and soft contact at the beginning of the war, but once they meet again at Garreg Mach, Felix can’t get enough of Sylvain’s lips. It’s one of the things he missed most, much to his own surprise – and Sylvain’s too.

Luckily for him, Sylvain never has a smartass comment to make at Felix’s eagerness; if anything, he seems glad he missed him – as if he wouldn’t have. In the end, however, Felix thinks he understands him, because he felt the same way too, so he leaves it alone – and unsaid.

Even so, they don’t really need to speak when they way they move tells them anything they need to know: the way Sylvain gently picks him up, the way he’s almost always hesitant before starting contact, as if he was afraid that this was a dream, the way Felix eagerly closes the distance between them, tired of these little games, the way the both open up to each other.

Felix might’ve not liked kissing at first, but after years of loneliness and war we can safely assume that it has grown on him.

He’ll never admit it, of course, but he doesn’t need to. Sylvain knows and understand, as much as he himself does.

Besides, who has the time to talk when their mouths are so busy?

Chapter Text

Gerik kind of guessed already that this was going to happen, but after a year of being officially together with Joshua, he can say it with certainty: that guy is a little clothes stealer.

A king should carry himself better than this, but Joshua of course doesn’t particularly care about behavioural rules; he doesn’t care if people see him wearing his most trusted guard’s clothes. Not that anyone would dare to speak aloud about it, not in his presence at least, and Joshua always has an adorable smirk on his face whenever someone in court eyes the obviously not his clothes but doesn’t say anything about it.

Besides, there’s something particularly intimate in wearing each other’s clothes, and Gerik feels a surge of warmth every time this happens. It’s not even in a possessive sense, but more in the “I’m really in a relationship with this human being” sense.

There’s also the fact that Joshua looks extremely good like this, if Gerik is allowed to say. He looks even better when he takes those clothes off - and Gerik knows for a fact that sometimes he’d go around wearing his clothes exactly to rile him up - but that’s another story…

It’s always been Joshua wearing his clothes, at least until now.

- I don’t think they’d fit -, Gerik tries to protest.

- You’ll never know until you try -, Joshua replies, even though he is a few sizes smaller than Gerik, - Besides, it’s not like you’d have to go around wearing them. I just want to see -.

Gerik ponders his options, then he sighs. In the end, it’s not like they’re going to hurt anybody, and even if he manages to tear some of the clothes, it’ll be Joshua who has to deal with that not him.

It still feels a little disrespectful to do something like this, but if Joshua - who let’s not forget, is the king - doesn’t mind, then he supposes it’s fine. After all, he can’t deny a certain curiosity regarding how he’ll look wearing his clothes.

He can barely move.

Joshua seems appreciative of the way his clothes looks on Gerik; it has to be because of the way you can definitely see his strong physique - his eyes are practically glued to his abdomen region - but it still isn’t entirely comfortable.

And to make things more ridiculous, there’s something more, at least according to Joshua’s words.

- More? What more should I wear? -, Gerik asks, but Joshua, instead of replying, just smirks as he gets closer to him.

It’s only then, as Joshua puts his old hat on him, that Gerik understands.

- Ah -.

- Now it’s complete! -, Joshua says, barely able to hold back a laugh, not that Gerik finds himself in such a better position.

- Are you happy now, at least? -, he asks, a smile on his face despite everything. And how can he not smile, with the way Joshua is looking at him.

- Yes -, the king says then, - I’m very happy -.

So is Gerik.

Chapter Text

It took some convincing from Wil’s part, but he’s managed the impossible: against all odds, he’s convinced Rath to cosplay with him for the next convention! Isn’t that the best? He always dreamed about doing a couple cosplay, and now that he’s found The One, he finally can.

To be quite honest, he expected it to be harder, but it really didn’t take much for Rath to agree. Turns out, he actually is curious about cosplaying, he just never had the courage to ask.

And now, the real deal: what should they cosplay as? It seems like such an obvious question, but that isn’t the case, not to Will at least. For Rath to enjoy it plenty, it must be perfect.

After the second day of still not having chosen, Wil decides to put things into Rath’s hands. It may be for the best, so he can choose what he’s more comfortable with.

- Which one do you prefer? -, he asks, showing him some images he had saved in his phone gallery.

Rath observes them silently, brow furrowed in concentration. Wil wasn’t expecting him to take it so seriously, but he’s happy about it; it’s feels good not being brushed off or made fun of for his interests.

After moments of careful inspecting, Rath shows Wil what he has decided.

- These two -, he says, pointing to their outfits.

- Ooooh, nice choice! -.

The characters come from a lesser known game, but one that Wil loves. One could even say that Blazing Blade has been his first love, so to cosplay its characters with Rath means a lot to him.

- You should be this one -, he says then, pointing at the tallest of the two.

- The one with the bandana? -, Rath asks, and Wil nods.

- He’s an archer. Best unit in the game for me -, he says. There’s something more however, and he slightly looks away, suddenly embarrassed, - And… I might’ve had a crush on him -.

At those words, Rath chuckles. At this point he’s gotten used to Wil’s weird side, which now also includes getting crushes on fictional characters apparently, but Rath finds it cute more than weird.

- So you’ll be this other guy, right? -, he says, pointing at the short character. He looks like an archer too, - I bet you’ll look good like this -.

A brief laugh escapes Wil’s lips. He still gets flustered when Rath compliments him, and it’s truly adorable. Maybe Rath does this on purpose in order to see what face Wil will do next.

- Well, there’s only one way to know that -.

- Getting to work? -.

- Getting to work -.

It’s a learning curve, but with Wil’s help Rath manages to make a pretty decent costume.

- You did so well! I’m so proud of you -, Wil says, pretending to dry tears from his eyes. Rath jokingly rolls his eyes at that.

- I had a good teacher -, he replies, making Wil blush.

And what else can Rath do, if not kiss him on the lips?

The con is a complete success. They’ve even been recognized by a few people! Given how little known the game is, it’s a very nice victory.

The best part, however, is when they did a photoshoot. At first, Rath was quite shy about it, but he gained confidence as they kept going. Besides, it’s not like he needed an excuse to hold Wil, even though they were being photographed. Wil, on the other hand, was ecstatic throughout the entire process and maybe, just maybe, Rath has fallen even more in love with him.

Sure, at the end of the day they’re both dead tired, but as they finally make their way back home, they’re smiling, happy with how the day went.

- Rath, thank you for going along with this. It really means a lot to me -, Wil says eventually, right after arriving to their destination. Rath smiles as he goes to open the door, finally stepping inside the familiar place of their shared house.

- It was fun. More than I could’ve imagined -, the other replies, honest.

Will approaches him, smile on his face, and he goes for a hug, hug that Rath returns immediately.

- What about you? -, he asks, - Are you happy? -.

- With you? Always -.

Chapter Text

It’s not that Claude isn’t familiar with fashion - after all his whole appearance is careful constructed as to give people the impression that Claude wants to give them - but this doesn’t mean that he’s fond of the shopping process, at least not of Hilda and Lorenz’s shopping process.

Claude is the kind of guy that arrives at the mall with a clear idea of what he wants, so he goes straight to looking for it. He doesn’t check every single thing like the others do. It’s not like there’s a prize for inspecting every nook and cranny.

They know that his shopping method is different from theirs, and yet they always insist on taking him with them.

Claude swears, they’re doing it only so that he can hold their bags.

At least the AC is on at the mall, so he can’t say he’s dying because of the hot climate, but still, how long have they been here? Too long if you ask him.

- We still haven’t found something for Saturday’s party, come on! -, Hilda incites him, giggling with Lorenz. They look so cute, holding hands, but then Claude remembers that this means that they’re going to stay here for at least another hour, and he groans.

- Do we have to? -.

- Of course, my dear Claude -, Lorenz replies, - Our appearance must be perfect! Otherwise how will people know who the hottest trio in town is? -.

Truly a vain statement, but Claude still can’t help but to chuckle.

- Lorenz, everybody knows already that we are the hottest trio in town -, he points out, and maybe he’s a bit proud of it, but he’ll pretend that he doesn’t care about what others think of him. At least that statement makes his gain a quick kiss on the lips from Lorenz, so he can’t say he minds that much, at least until Lorenz speaks again.

- That only means that we have a status to maintain, thus we need to find something! -.

There really is no getting out of this, isn’t it? Claude sigh.

Well, the more he stalls the more they’ll have to stay there, so might as well get on with it and, since he’s at it, might as well get something really nice. As much as he loves Lorenz and Hilda, he doesn’t want them to completely outshine him.

Who knows, maybe he’ll actually enjoy it this time.

They’re still here, and Claude might be losing it.

Good thing this time he gets to try out some things too, so he has some fun instead of just waiting around like a fish out of the water.

He wants to be mad at Lorenz and Hilda for making him go through this and yet, as he sees the happy tingle in their eyes and hears their laughter when they go and try out some outlandish fit, he can’t help but to feel happy as well despite everything, glad that he has met them.

Chapter Text

It’s been a while since Felix has begun hanging out with Hubert’s friends and he has to say, he doesn’t mind the change of company. To tell the truth, he needed that: things with his old friends aren’t exactly great. Too much resentment, too much trauma.

This feels like a breath of fresh air.

Well, not that he has completely warmed up to all of them, but still.

They are an eclectic bunch, that’s for sure, though Felix doesn’t find himself minding it that much, at least not as much as he would’ve if these were his friends. Knowing Hubert it’s difficult for him to understand why he hangs out with them, only to come to the conclusion that he does only because he likes some of them: he clearly has a soft spot for Edelgard, Bernadetta, Petra and Dorothea, while for the others… well, he seems to tolerate them just fine.

Felix supposes that’s fair, after all even with his own friends you could say that he just tolerates them.

It takes him time to understand how much Hubert cares for his friends. Like everything about his partner, it’s subtle, and Felix has to spend a lot of time with his friends to realize it.

In his own sarcastic way, he cares about all of them. It reminds Felix of himself… No, that isn’t true: he doesn’t care, no matter what his traitorous heart may suggest him.

He comes back to reality when a hand covers his, squeezing it. It’s Hubert’s.

There’s no need for him to ask any questions; a simple gaze is enough to convey his message: are you alright?

- I’m fine -, Felix nods, realizing now that he has spaced out staring at Ferdinand and Caspar loudly arguing about who knows what. It should be annoying but, as time has passed, Felix has begun to find these discussions… endearing.

Hubert returns the nod, but his gaze hasn’t moved from Felix. He’s thinking about something, he knows it, and he has the confirmation when he speaks again.

- … Want to leave for a while? -.

Felix looks at Hubert, then at his friends. Even though he’s grown to like them more and more with time, they still are a bit overwhelming to deal with. Besides, would he really pass up an occasion to fuck right off with Hubert, and maybe make out somewhere more isolated? Absolutely not.

- Please -.

Chapter Text

There’s a reason why Ranulf keeps his ears covered, and no it’s not in order to pass off as a beorc since with his tail out he surely wouldn’t succeed in that anyway.

Kyza finds out only after the war, when she finally gets closer to him like she’s always wanted.

It happens accidentally, while Ranulf is talking to her about his last diplomatic expedition, without any reservation on how tiring it was, as Kyza sits behind him, busying herself with giving him a shoulder massage to help him relax. His muscles are so tense.

- I just can’t believe they’d put such dense people for such an important job! -, Ranulf exclaims, completely at his wits end, - And they didn’t know anything about our customs! You’d figure they’d try to at least do some research beforehand… Yes, that’s the spot -.

Kyza hums, smiling as she keeps pressing against the spot between Ranulf’s shoulder blades. He has a particularly tight knot there, but nothing she can’t take care of.

It goes on like this for a while, but eventually Ranulf runs out of things to say, so he ends up pressing comfortably against Kyza’s chest, letting her pet his hair. He feels so good and relaxed that he could easily go for a nap now, and wouldn’t that be a nice idea…

All it takes is a brush against his ears, and Ranulf jolts, suddenly very awake and aware of his surroundings.

- Something’s wrong? -, Kyza asks, surprised by Ranulf’s reaction. She clearly wasn’t expecting that.

After a moment, he calms down.

- It’s nothing -, he lies, going back to his previous position, smiling happily as Kyza resumes her ministrations.

She touches that spot again, but this time Ranulf only twitches, not wanting to set a precedent. If Kyza notices, she doesn’t mention it. She does brush against the spot another couple of times, but apart for that, nothing changes.

Then she begins rubbing behind his ears, making Ranulf all twitchy. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling however; it feels good.

- I didn’t know… -.

Kyza’s voice breaks the silence, and Ranulf turns with his head around to look at her with an interrogative gaze.

- What? -.

Another light scratch.

- That your ears were this sensitive -, Kyza replies. It’s easy for Ranulf to pick up the amusement in her voice, and he grumbles, a visible brush spreading across his face, that makes her chuckle.

Ranulf tries to stay mad at her, because he doesn’t like being made fun of, but she’s back to scratching his ears and it feels so good that he can’t help but to melt at the contact. Fine, she gets a pass.

It’s when he begins to purr that things go downhill - but not really.

By the way Kyza throws herself at him, lying kisses all over his face, she must’ve liked it.

- Kyza c’mon! -, Ranulf laughs, jokingly trying to push her away but to no avail. Well, time to change strategy.

He rolls both of them over until he’s on top, and now it’s his turn to attack her with kisses, which he does happily until he captures her lips with his in a soft kiss.

Soon he feels that scratching sensation behind his ears again and he smiles in the kiss, letting Kyza pet him to her heart’s content.

Now Kyza knows why Ranulf keeps his ears covered.

This is a secret that he would’ve liked to take to the grave, but in the end he has to admit that it’s not so bad that Kyza knows it. He’s more than willing to make an exception for her.

Chapter Text

Of all things Raven expected, Lucius coming back with those… things, wasn’t one of it.

- This is ridiculous -, Raven grumbles. He doesn’t know whether he’s more embarrassed, angry, or simply a combination of the two.

Lucius, who has become far too used to his moods, doesn’t seem bothered by this, and he chuckles.

- Commander Anna sold them to me -, he explains, - She said that people wear them at night to do something she called “pyjama parties” -.

First, Raven has no idea what the hell a pyjama party is, second, does he want to know how much that harpy has made poor Lucius pay for these?

- How are you even supposed to wear these? -, he asks then, only so that he doesn’t think about those things. He only sees a hole for the head, and it looks like it’s all one unique garb, so how is he even supposed to fit there? Also, are these things supposed to look like animals? Because he can see them having cat ears and tails too.

- Oh, there’s a zipper on the back -, Lucius explains, - I can help you wear one them if that’s what you want -.

It really is not what Raven wants, at all, but the way Lucius is looking at him… Damn him, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

It takes more than expected to actually wear this ugly thing, and Raven is greatly uncomfortable. It’s hot, so hot, and he wants to take it off immediately. He also looks outright ridiculous, come on - orange isn’t his color at all.

- How do you like this? -, he asks Lucius, because he really doesn’t understand.

- They’re supposed to be comfortable, and warm -, he replies, looking at Raven with eyes so full of fondness that if he could he would’ve looked away, but he can’t.

- Besides -, Lucius continues then, stepping closer to Raven, - You look cute -.

He leans closer, pressing a kiss on the tip of the other’s nose, and Raven doesn’t blush, at all. He just doesn’t.

- Quiet -, he says, pulling away, trying not to look flustered under Lucius’ knowing and amused gaze.

… Fine, maybe these things aren’t that bad after all, but nobody needs to know.

Now, more importantly, he needs to see how Lucius looks wearing one of these. He bets he’ll be adorable.

Chapter Text

It’s always a joy for Legault to come back from a mission and finding dear Lloyd waiting for him; it’s starting to make him feel like he could actually call the Black Fang home.

He hasn’t been out for long, just a couple of days, and it shows, because this time Lloyd is patient, this time he lets him debrief with the chief before pulling him against the closer surface available - a table, a wall, even a bed sometimes - and kissing him breathless.

This is what is supposed to happen, at least, but Lloyd manages to surprise him with how patient he’s being, and Legault can’t help but to be slightly annoyed at this, even though he does his best not to show it. He’s gotten so used to feeling so wanted that he’d make Lloyd throw away all caution that now that things are different he doesn’t like it.

Thankfully, at least, he doesn’t have to wait for long. Turns out Lloyd simply wanted him in his room, away from any prying eyes.

- I missed you -, he says, before kissing Legault, who can’t help but to smile into the kiss. Finally.

Lloyd’s quick to press him against the closed door, lavishing at his lips. They’re getting close to what Legault actually wants. However…

- What do you say if the move this to the bed? -, he asks. It would be a waste of a perfectly good occasion, after all.

Lloyd looks at Legault, then looks at the bed. When he goes back to the other, he’s smirking.

- You’re right -.

He doesn’t even wait for Legault to say anything else that he picks him up and lands both of them on the soft mattress.

- Better? -, he asks then, settling between Legault’s legs, who giggles as he pulls him closer.

- Much better -.

They kiss again, and here Legault goes to immediately slip his tongue in, but Lloyd doesn’t mind at all, and actually the eager way with which he responds makes everything even more fun.

Things get even better when Lloyd begins to make his hands wander around Legault’s body, getting familiar with it once again. His touch is soft, delicate, at least for now, but it still elicits a small shiver out of the other. He has really missed this close contact.

Maybe later they’ll get on with more, but for new they keep it pretty simple. It’s enough.

Chapter Text

Ice cream after training seems counterproductive to Felix, but this doesn’t stop Jeritza to take him to get one after their fencing practice.

- It means he really likes you! -, Mercedes told him after he recounted her what’s happening, with that gentle smile of hers, and since she told him that Felix hasn’t stopped thinking about it.

What has started as just a way to blow off steam is slowly becoming something more, and Felix’s afraid of it. He’s not good at this relationship stuff, and he’s certain that Jeritza isn’t either - someone like that can’t be good at anything regarding emotions. How are they supposed to fair?

He could ask his friends, but on second though he better not: Dimitri and Ingrid suck at this, Sylvain is ever worse, and if he goes to Mercedes it would be too awkward, since he’d be asking for advice about how he should date her brother.

One thing that he enjoys about this little “dates” of theirs - though he’s not even sure he’s supposed to call these dates - is that at least they don’t have to act all lovey-dovey in public; most of the time they don’t even talk much. Enjoying each other’s presence is more than enough.

It’s not exactly the textbook definition of romantic, but Felix couldn’t give less of a fuck about that, and he’s sure that Jeritza doesn’t either. He should be creeped out about how in sync they are for this kind of stuff, or maybe is it just normal? Maybe the “opposites attract” thing is just bullshit. Whatever, who cares.

Realizing that he’s been zoning out, Felix shakes his head and turns towards Jeritza, who looks very intent on eating his ice cream.

It’s so different from what he usually see from Jeritza, so… cute. Agh! He can’t deal with this!

He moves on instinct, paired with the frustration Felix always feels during these moments - because he never knows what to do. He moves to grab the back of Jeritza’s neck with his hand, snapping him from his focus on his ice cream, something that Jeritza wouldn’t be happy about if only Felix hadn’t pressed his lips against his.

Mh, he can taste vanilla.

When they pull away, they’re both out of breath. They look more like they’ve just gotten out of a fight rather than kissing, but this is how things are with them.

Felix thinks that this is going to be it, that Jeritza will get back to his ice cream and he’ll get back to watch him, but this is not what happens: with his free hand Jeritza grabs him by the collar of his shirt, bringing him close again for another kiss.

For a while at least, nobody thinks about ice cream again.

Chapter Text

Edelgard will forever resent Those who slither in the Dark - that’s how Hubert calls them - but even she can’t deny that the science that they possess is far superior to the rest of Fódlan, something that she can use to her advantage.

A plan is already forming in her head, a plan about justice and revenge, but for now she keeps those thoughts stored for later. Now there’s something else she and Hubert need to do, something for which they need that hated science that has already signed her life, but now it’s going to do it in the way she wants it, with her full consent.

She can’t help but to smile amused, at the thought that once she and Hubert were known with different names, each other’s names actually. They’ve decided to exchange them long ago, a sign of mutual trust, friendship and… something more.

She still has to fully analyze her feelings for Hubert; she obviously loves him dearly, but is there more?

In another life, she would have all time and focus to figure it out, but not in the one she lives now, not in this unkind world she’s forced to live in.

Of his complete devotion, she has no doubt. After all Hubert has made if clear time and time again that he’s hers; his presence brings her great comfort. He’s the only one she truly trusts.

She wishes she could offer him more.

Maybe with time…

It’s not an easy process, but ironically Edelgard thought it would’ve been even worse.

It takes time, a lot of time, but eventually she and Hubert are finally beginning to look like the image of themselves they have in their head.

It feels good.

Even as the years pass she still thinks about her and Hubert’s exchange from time to time, like now, after everything’s done, as she’s enjoying her - well deserved according to her humble opinion - retirement with the man that has accompanied her throughout the entirety of this taxing - but just - journey.

To take each other’s names like that… It’s something that has always stuck with her.

A sign of respect and friendship…

She looks down at Hubert, resting wish his head on her lap. She softly goes to tuck one strand of hair behind his ear, unable to hide a soft smile on her face.

… A sign of love.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this suits us?” Tobin asks, uncertain, looking at himself in the mirror.

“I am certain,” Clair replies. “This is an important event. You have to be dressed appropriately.”

Indeed, there’s a ball at the castle, and of course the three of them are invited. Despite the fact that both Tobin and Gray - more Gray though - have dreamed about similar circumstances, now that they’re about to live through them they’re unsure.

These clothes are tight, Tobin thinks, and it’s so difficult to move in them! He must look ridiculous…

Despite his confidence not being at the same level it usually is, Gray seems to have an easier time with them than him. Tobin tries not to feel envious of this quality of his, but he can’t help it, at least a little bit; even under this front he bests him…

Looking at Clair is even worse: she was born a noble, so of course her clothes fit her like a second skin. She’s beautiful, ethereal even. How is he supposed to compare?

A pair of hands settling on his shoulders shake him from his thoughts. His eyes settle on the figure of Clair behind him, looking at him with an affection gaze that almost makes him look away.

“You look stunning, my dear,” she says, her voice full of affection, which does manage to make Tobin look away this time, at anything but her, anything but his image on the mirror.

There’s nowhere he can escape to, however, because soon Gray steps in his space, leaning against his shoulder.

“Aw, is Tobi-poo embarrassed?”

“I-It’s not that!” Tobin exclaims, trying, and failing to push him away. He wonders how they haven’t understood his problem yet; he can’t be the only one who sees it.

Gray and Clair exchange a gaze, suddenly more serious than they were before. It’s just for a moment, but it’s enough for them to reach an agreement.

“I do not believe you’re seeing what we are seeing,” Clair begins, leaning her head against Tobin’s. He’s barely able to contain a scoff.

“And what do you see?”

“I see someone who’s grown a great deal, and trust me Tobes, I’ve known you since the start, so I know what I’m talking about,” Gray replies, looking at Tobin straight in the eyes with such an intensity that all Tobin can do is to lower his gaze to his feet. Too bad that Clair gently guides him by his chin to look at himself again.

“I see an upstanding young man, who fought for the right thing and was awarded with the title he deserves,” she says, voice proud.

Tobin tries really hard to understand, to see what they see, but he’s got to say, it doesn’t change much. At least it’s heartening to know that they think of him in a positive way, especially considering that he still feels like the third wheel - even though they’ve made it clear that he’s not multiple times.

Then Gray grabs one of his hands, while Clair takes the other, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“C’mon, Tobes, this is a party! You can’t be sad during a party,” Gray tells him, with his usual smile on his face that Tobin can’t help but to return.

“Besides, we cannot be late,” Clair adds, and well, she’s right, like always.

… Fine. He can do this.

He looks at himself again. Mh, he doesn’t look so bad after all. Maybe they are right…

“Yes, let’s go.”