Happy Birthday Licht&Nokto!

Happy birthday Licht&Nokto!

⬥◇◆ Clothes Shopping with the Ikeprinces ◆◇⬥

With Act 3 and Silvio's route just around the corner, let's slow down, take a step back, and remember how we all ended up in here. Particularly, how we all ended up in these clothes.

Silvio’s Dubious Preorder ◆◇⬥

*the front door to the clothes shop opens in the middle of the night*

Shopkeeper: Who’s there?

Silvio: Your worst nightmare…

*Silvio drops a heavy bag of coins in the shopkeeper's hands*

Silvio: And your salvation.

Shopkeeper: What?

Silvio: Listen closely, tailor. Tomorrow you will be visited by a pathetic pack of princes with questionable fashion sense. They are in search of new outfits to wear for the upcoming story arc and have chosen your lousy shop as their genius loci. Lucky you.

Shopkeeper: …What?

Silvio: I’ll be in attendance as well, but I’m only interested in an outfit that’ll blow everyone else’s out of the water, so I’ll mostly be observing from the sides. All you gotta do is keep those other guys occupied and catch all the notes I send your way. You’re an experienced man, you’ll know when I’m dropping you a hint. But no one else needs to know about our little deal, capisce? 

*Silvio pats the coin bag and leaves. Shopkeeper puts on glasses and cleans out his ears*

Shopkeeper: WHAT?

⬥◇◆THE NEXT DAY ◆◇⬥

Judge Yves, Round 1 ◆◇⬥

Yves: As members of Rhodolite’s domestic faction, we are the pillars our citizens look towards to represent the values our kingdom instills in art, culture, and conduct. The outfits we select today must not only reflect the propriety expected of the royal family, but also that of our people for generations to follow.

Yves: Jin! Button your shirt all the way up right this moment!

Jin: You can’t cage the collarbones, Yves!

Yves: Leon! Too much detailing will overwhelm your conversation partners! You look like you’re drowning in gold.

Leon: But you’re talking to me just fine now?

Yves: Licht! You look wonderful, of course. But if I had to nitpick, the white on your lapels clashes with your black jacket. Try wearing more color, you don’t want to look like a walking chessboard.

*Sariel slowly backs into the dressing room*

Nokto Seeing Double ◆◇⬥

Nokto: No, this blue vest doesn’t bring out my eyes quite right.

*hands vest over to Licht. Licht tries it on*

Nokto: Hm… and these tassels make my face look too narrow.

*hands shoulder pads over to Licht. Licht tries them on*

Nokto: And these black gloves clash horribly with my hair, what was I thinking?

*hands gloves over to Licht. Licht tries them on*

Nokto: You look great, Licht. Ugh, nothing in this entire store works for me!

*a bag of coins flies across the store*

Silvio: Tailor! No vests, tassels, or gloves!

Judge Yves, Round 2 ◆◇⬥

Yves: Ahem! I’m only doing this because you four are an extension of Rhodolite beyond the borders, and I don’t want you messing up our image in front of our neighbors. It’s not like I particularly care how you dress everyday!

Nokto: Aww, Evie, you care~

Yves: Shut it! Ahem! For starters, the white theme you all have is a very nice choice. It’s a good idea to set up a visual indicator to let others know you’re working as a team.

Clavis: Oh, that wasn’t intentional. This humble shop is simply fortunate enough to have had enough pieces for each of us. Otherwise, these poor white coats would have been prematurely stained red! Hahaha!

Yves: Wha—?

Clavis: With strawberry jam, of course! Chev gets particularly pouty when someone wears white instead of him. I wouldn’t put it past him to “accidentally” sully that poor someone’s outfit with his toast.

Luke: That’s why I eat mine with honey instead!

Yves: No, that’s why we eat breakfast before we leave the palace! 

*Yves swipes the toast from Chevalier and Luke*

Yves: Luke! If you’re going to wear white, you can’t carry honeyed toast in your pockets!

Yves: Clavis! If you’re going to wear a coat over a jacket again, at least make them match in style this time!

Yves: Nokto! If you’re not going to button your vest all the way, you have to wear a shirt underneath!

*Chevalier covers his chest and slowly backs into the dressing room*

Small Talk Sariel ◆◇⬥

*In a quiet corner of the store, Keith looks over himself in the mirror. Sariel notices and joins him*

Sariel: Ah, a modest choice, Prince Keith. Were you to show Prince Yves, I am certain he would impart nothing but praise.

Keith: 🙂

Sariel: Modesty is, of course, cornerstone for a prince to emblem. Although, with our continent so rife with rowdy royals, one would not want to appear too humble, lest he be trampled by his more verbally-inclined peers.

Keith: 😐

Sariel: But too loud a statement piece would have a similar effect of disfavor among colleagues. One would not want to appear too brash in company of those whose opinions matter.

Keith: 😟

Sariel: Finding that sweet spot in the middle is crucial to deduce, and this is the moment to do it. Tell me, Prince Keith, is this the outfit you wish to present to the world in the next act?

Keith: Excuse me, I seem to have misplaced something in the dressing room.

*another bag of coins flies across the store*

Silvio: Make it loud, tailor!

Multi-talented and Multi-purpose Luke ◆◇⬥

Luke: Hey, Yves! How about this? I keep the lid open just enough to stick a spoon in like this, and my pockets get to stay completely… Hey, you okay?

*Yves blushes in surprise*

Yves: Yes, yes! Why wouldn’t I be?

Luke: Well, you’ve been standing by the hair accessories for a long time now.

Yves: Because there’s no one else here. I need rest from evaluating all your outfits, obviously.

*Luke puts down the honey jar*

Luke: Hey, close your eyes for a bit.

Yves: What for?

Luke: Just trust me. Besides, you said you wanted to rest, right?

*5 minutes later*

Luke: Tada! Whaddya think?

Yves: How did you…?

Luke: My sister used to make me braid her hair all the time. I’d say I’m pretty good at it, eh?

*Yves blushes in joy*

Yves: Thank you. But how did you manage to keep it in place? You didn’t use any clips or anything.

Luke: Oh, that’s ‘cause I packed it tight with honey. It oughta keep its shape all week, plus it’s good for the scalp. Bonus!

*Yves blushes in rage*

Life Lessons with Big Brother Jin ◆◇⬥

Jin: Hey, Chevalier. Come try this cloak on, it’ll help cover your…

*Chevalier quickly wipes his mouth and hides his hands behind his back*

Jin: …

Chevalier: …

Jin: Chev…

Chevalier: I was merely inspecting them for poisons.

Jin: Come on, big guy. We’ve been through this.

Chevalier: The showoff apprehended my toast. 

Jin: You can’t eat the roses.

Chevalier: …

Jin: …

Chevalier: The yellow ones taste best.

Jin: So you’ve told me.

*yet another bag of coins flies across the store*

Silvio: Bring me the juiciest rose you have! I know you’re keeping it from me!

Gilbert’s Infinite Hyperspace ◆◇⬥

Gilbert: Are you sure the shopkeeper won’t mind you making alterations to his designs?

Clavis: That wonderful man doesn’t need to worry about a single hair on his rapidly balding head! I won’t be defiling his style because all the additions I’m making will be completely hidden from sight.

Gilbert: How like you to run your dirty work in the shadows. Such fun.

Clavis: I wouldn’t use that particular arrangement of words to describe it, per se. But considering Sariel has egregiously forbidden me from purchasing more than one belt today, I am forced to improvise my carry-on capabilities.

Gilbert: Ah, pockets! How very fun, indeed!

Clavis: Not just any pockets! Secret pockets! And just look at this enormous canvas I have to work with! Only… my hands were full on the way over here carrying Chevalier’s breakfast, so I wasn’t able to bring much of my usual tools to measure. I don’t like leaving the palace without at least a net or two on hand.

Gilbert: You can borrow mine!

*Gilbert produces a large fish net out of thin air*

Clavis: How fortunate, this will work nicely! I do wish I could have brought my trusty shovel with me, though. 

Gilbert: Regular or extra large?

*Gilbert produces two digging shovels out of thin air*

Clavis: Ah... R-regular is fine…

Gilbert: Anything else?

Clavis: You’ve been plenty helpful, I couldn’t impose—

Gilbert: No need to be shy. You still have plenty of space to work with, I see. 

Clavis: …

Gilbert: Try me.

Clavis: …Well, I do like to be armed with more than just my sword—

Gilbert: How about this?

*Gilbert produces a hatchet out of thin air*

Clavis: … Thank you.

Gilbert: What are friends for?

*Gilbert claps his hands, taps his cane twice, and pulls a tiny comb out of the heel of his boot. He combs Clavis’s hair out of his eyes and walks away smiling as the largest bag of coins yet flies across the store*

Silvio: Secret pockets! But don’t tell anyone where they are, you hear? Not even me!

Doggy See, Doggy Do ◆◇⬥

Leon: Find anything you like, Rio?

Rio: Lots! But I’m just not sure she’d like them, too.

Leon: Why not show me what you got so far? I may not be Yves or Sariel, but I’ll bet I can point out a stinker in the mix.

Rio: Okay then. What do you think of this gilded vest?

Leon: Awesome! The color matches your eyes perfectly. That’s good… I think?

*Coin bag toss #1*

Silvio: Tailor! Look into my eyes and get me a jacket that matches them perfectly! No, not a vest! We said no vests!

Rio: Huh, that was weird. Anyway, what about this broach?

Leon: She’d love it! The looped design brings out the curves of your smile just right. That kind of attention to detail is probably really important.

*Coin bag toss #2*

Silvio: Tailor! Bring me your loopiest jewelry! The more hoops, the better!

Rio: Did you hear something? Ah, nevermind. Do you think I should go with one earring or two?

Leon: Hmm… Yves rocks the one earring look—

*Coin bag toss #3*

Silvio: Tailor! I want your gaudiest single earring in my palm right this second!

Leon: —but earrings are supposed to come in pairs, right? So maybe two would be fine. For symmetry, and all that.

*Coin bag toss #4*

Silvio: Make that two!

Leon: Sorry, I’m not too sure, to be honest.

*Rio knowingly smirks*

Rio: Your advice is great, Prince Leon. Tell me, what do you think of these snow boots?

Leon: Well, it’s not exactly winter. But they’re really a statement piece, and she might appreciate a good conversation starter.

*Coin bag toss #5*

Silvio: I need the furriest boots you’ve got in this place, pronto!

Rio: And this zebra-print cloak?

Leon: Chevalier looks good in tiger stripes. I guess that’s basically the same thing.

*Coin bag toss #6*

Silvio: Where do you keep the darn striped fabrics, old man?

Rio: Great! What’s your opinion on oversized hats?

Leon: Uhh… go big or go home?

*Coin bag toss #7*

Silvio: GO BIG OR GO HOME!!

Leon: Hey, Rio, do you hear an echo?

Rio: Nope. Just the sound of a nation’s GDP falling.

I wanted to add a joke about their gloves, but this post is getting way out of hand, even without puns.

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"doubt thou the stars are fire // doubt that the sun doth move // doubt truth to be a liar // but never doubt that i love (you)" x gilbert (or whoever you feel fits this best)

-revassierum

A/N: Gilbert won the poll so the first fic belongs to him.

This is the fic that comes before this one but I think that you can read this on its own.

Gilbert x Reader

WC: 2.3k

Full quote:

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love you. I love thee, I love but thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old. -William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act II, Scene II

His knuckles, hidden under his black leather gloves, are white as he grasps the cold gray parapet. His eye, red as a hellish comet streaking across a midnight sky, surveys the shapes he can make out below, the ones revealed by the twin luminance of moonlight and torches: the shadowy lines of the encampment tents in front of the castle; light winking weakly off the metal of soldiers’ helmets as they move around. Beyond them the ribbon of pale gray road that disappears into the imposing darkness of the treeline, so dark it drinks in all the light without leaving a single drop.

The road holds his gaze, has every ounce of his attention so thoroughly that he doesn’t react to the man who joins him, the one who is silent as he stares at Gilbert, his expression as stoic as the stone Gilbert’s gloves are so tightly clenching. 

After a moment, he speaks.

“Yes, Doctor?”

Walter reaches up, adjusting his glasses.

“The night is chilled. You should be abed, resting for what is to come.”

Few people in the world can speak to Gilbert in such a way, telling him what he should be doing. But Walter is one of them. The man who carries the weight of Obsidian on his broad shoulders doesn’t answer his physician but the tightness of his jawline is enough of a sign that he has heard.

Walter finally turns his head, his pale gaze following Gilbert’s line of sight until he too is looking at the place where the road vanishes into black forest. He remembers a whispered conversation with Roderich, hushed and hurried, quick as a sparrow nervously jumping from branch to branch lest it be snapped up by the jaws of some far-quicker predator.

“If I may speak freely….”

Gilbert waves a hand. “As if that would be something new.” Though there is a faint glimmer of humor in his voice, his gaze is as intensely focused as ever and he does not glance at the doctor.

“You sent her away. Quite….forcefully, if I recall the story.”

That gets his attention. He turns away, a movement as quick and sleek as silvery clouds sliding across the face of the moon.

Walter knows him well enough to read his face. He sees the miniscule flash of surprise in the depths of his crimson eye, the slight drawing of his shoulders. Anyone else would think Gilbert had no reaction. The doctor knows that this particular subject has just set off a cascade of emotion within the Obsidian leader.

“I won’t ask how you know this or else I would be forced to deprive Obsidian of its best healer.” Annoyance lines his words as he turns back to the parapet, as if he cannot help himself, as if staring at the line between the encampment and the forest is necessary. Agitation dances across the tight line of his shoulders, the straight rod of his back.

Walter clears his throat, stifling the urge to place a hand on Gilbert’s arm. 

“Rhodolite may be the enemy. But it is where she is safest.”

His statement is met with silence, as cool as the night breeze winding its way across the battlement, Gilbert’s black cloak dancing in its wake.

“I’ve taken my tonic. I believe your presence is no longer required tonight, Doctor.”

The dismissal doesn’t bother Walter. He knows Gilbert has heard him. His dark head bows in deference.

“Gute Nacht,” he murmurs, casting one last look at the man whose life he is charged with keeping safe. He may be responsible for Gilbert's body but there is no doubt that his heart is within someone else’s hands.

Gilbert waits until the doctor’s footsteps fade into the other sounds of nighttime, the ebbing murmur of his soldiers as they retire for the evening, the faint clanking of armor as guards patrol the grounds, the lone, mournful hoot of an owl. Only when he is certain he is alone does he allow his head to drop, eye closing for a brief moment.

There is little that escapes Gilbert von Obsidian. He is three steps ahead of everyone, always, the human mind a complicated puzzle he is adept at solving. And yet, when he sent you away from his tent, you with your starlight tears and petal-soft mouth, when he watched you flee, eyes as wild as a fearful rabbit, when he told you to return home to your roses and your pale-haired king…..he was not entirely certain you would listen.

The doctor is right. It was the more rational choice. But it was not the one that his heart wanted, the one it is still screaming for. You belong with him. You should be his. 

He has tasted you, knows the sound of his name when it escapes your lips on a wavering sigh of want. His teeth have sunk into the soft skin of your shoulder, his tongue has traced the line of your neck. He has felt the waves of desire as they ripple through your veins, all because of him. All for him. It is all he has wanted for so very long, all that has consumed him….

And yet he had smiled, sharp as the edge of his sword, and told you to run. Sent you away even as your scent of lavender and roses lingered in his tent, settled across his black mantle like a ghost unable to find peace.

What is he even looking for, out here in the night, as the tents darken one by one like candles blown out by the wind. You are halfway back to your kingdom of roses. You chose home and you chose Chevalier.

So why can’t he tear his gaze away from the darkening road?

It becomes a phantom as the torchlight dims and the moon excuses herself, stepping behind a barricade of clouds. And still he lingers, even as the night air turns cold and unwelcoming, and he feels his muscles contracting in response, struggling to support the cry of his heart to stay….just in case.

Teeth clenched like a beast on the edge of growling, he is about to turn and head inside when he sees it. A shadowy shape bursting out of the black treeline, a spectral horse and rider charging down the ribbon of road. 

And he knows.

The castle walls blur as he flies down the spiral stone steps, down down down and then out, past the startled guards. He is a tiger honed in on its prey, eyes flashing with resolve and hunger. 

You’re already off your horse, speaking in that voice to a soldier with his sword raised in your direction. You are, after all, a stranger who has just flown into their camp like a banshee.

When he arrives at the scene, the soldier immediately lowers his sword and drops to one knee. Gilbert does not hear any of his stammered words. Instead he reaches out, his gloved fingers closing around your wrist as he pulls you towards the nearest tent.

“Raus,” he orders the soldier who was just getting ready to bed down for the night. The word is iron, undeniable and final. The man gathers his things quicker than he ever has before in his life and exits, the tent flap falling closed behind him with a soft whooshing sound.

It is a simple foot soldier’s dwelling with an oil lantern still burning next to the untouched bedroll. The wan light throws your shadows across the thick canvas walls, moving like images inside a zoetrope. 

Gilbert is breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath, but there is nothing unsteady about the way his eye, the color of wine in moonlight, is fixed on you. With trembling hands you push back the hood of your cloak, white with small red roses embroidered along the hem like drops of blood. Your cheeks are flushed with the urgency and speed of your ride. Your skirts and boots are splattered with mud.

“I know….you warned me to go and I started to.” Your voice is airy but uncontrolled, a tornado forcing its way past your throat. “I got just past the border and stopped at a tavern to rest the horse. Rhodolite soldiers were there, several tankards in, and they were bragging…they’re coming, Gilbert. At first dawn they’ll be here.”

You step forward, your hands reaching to gather the soft folds of his black cloak, fingers curling into it as it could steady you, a bulwark against the storm of information you need to tell him.

“They have weapons. They intercepted an Obsidian transport and they have guns.” He hasn’t said a word yet, hasn’t had a chance in the face of all the words you’re hurling at him but now you pause, searching his face. “Gilbert, did you hear me? They have-”

He finally moves, twisting his leather glove off his hand and tossing it aside fecklessly. The next thing you feel is the cool touch of his palm against your cheek, his fingers curling to cup your face.

“You’re here.” 

The words are husky, maybe because he is still catching his breath. Maybe because he can’t believe it.  Or maybe because he can and he’s basking in the confirmation of his prediction.

“I…..” You need him to understand the urgency of what you are telling him and yet his hand feels so good. The last time he touched you that hand was at your throat. Now it is cradling your face with a gentleness just as dangerous.

Your words drop to a whisper. “Gilbert…..they’re coming and they–” And then, as he raises his other hand to his lips, biting into the tip of his glove and removing it with his teeth, the truth hits you like an avalanche careening down a mountain. The encampment here. Gilbert occupying a castle so close to the border and not heading home.

“You already knew.”

And now he’s holding your face in both hands, the coolness of his skin paradoxically sending waves of something unbearably hot through your limbs. 

“But you didn’t. And you came back, risking everything to tell me.”

The world begins and ends in the red of his eye, the fall of dark hair across his pale forehead. Something inside you breaks, shatters like stained glass struck by stone. You reach up, curling your hands around his wrists.

“I….I couldn’t live with the thought that something could happen to you….I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to stop it, even if it meant-”

The rest is stopped by the savage press of his mouth against yours. He will not even allow you to finish that sentence. The grip of his hands tightens as he hungrily swallows any other words you wanted to say, as he drinks deeply from the gasps of your lungs and the moans of your throat. Over and over he devours you while still holding you between his hands, your own having gone slack at the very first kiss.

He kisses you until your lips ache from the crush of his mouth, the sting of his teeth. Your tongue is full of him, the rich, cool taste of him. It is the sweetest nectar, ambrosia as heady as the starlit sky. It leaves you spinning with satisfaction, dizzy with content. And yet, it leaves you parched, always seeking more and more and more of him as the hot winds of desire blow through your veins.

Gilbert is the one to break away, to gasp a lungful of air, feeling the absence of your lips as keenly as any ache. His eye burns like a singular star, swallowing up the darkness.

“Retreat to the castle.” His hands roam your body as he speaks the order, as if he can’t help but touch you even as he demands you to leave him. “The cellar is safeguarded. My men will go with you-”

You shake your head vehemently, capturing his hands in yours, holding them hostage in your own tight grip.

"I have turned against my country for you. I was ready to face whatever hell awaited me here if it meant keeping you safe.” Your voice is low, trembling as it skirts the bedrock of emotion in your chest. “I'm damn well not leaving your side now."

He recognizes a mind as sharp as his own, a will as iron. As much as he has craved your gentle heart, your kind spirit, those soft, beautiful parts of you, he is equally as drawn to the steel in your nerves, the forge of determination in your bright eyes.

He could have you sent away, dragged by his soldiers down to the underbelly of the castle where you would be safe. But as he reaches up, cradling the nape of your neck with one hand, he realizes you are right. After all, who could protect you as well as him? Who but him would trample the world for you? Would set the night ablaze before allowing anyone or anything to harm you?

One arm winds its way around your waist and pulls you close. He leans down, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. His voice is hushed, but rough, gravelly with emotion.

"When all this is over, my brave Häschen, I will reward you.” He catches your earlobe between his white teeth, his heart fluttering at your gasp. “Over and over until your voice is hoarse with the sound of my name." 

There is no time to catch the breath his words have robbed you off. The distant warning of cannon fire fills the night and the encampment is coming awake, following the carefully laid-out plan in preparation for what is coming.

“Come.” And with your fingers linked with his, you step out of the tent together, into the foreboding night.

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Hello Hello, I am back from my semi-permanent hiatus to share what's known so far about the 3 new foreign princes from Tanzanite, Achroite, and Kogyoku as shared from Chevalier Proposition of Love Chapter (a.k.a. Chevalier's Sequel which followed the event after the end of his True Love (Romantic) End)

Night and Light (Ikemen Vampire)

Pairing: (mentions of) Licht Klein x MC (Emma) Summary: Nokto only wishes the best for his big brother on their birthday Word count: 1.3k A note from the author: Dusted the cobwebs off of an old fic I started over a year ago, just for a chance to share my love for the Klein boys on their special day. They really do just deserve the best.

Night and Light.

Nokto and Licht.

Two twins who lost their way at a young age. The push and pull between them impenetrable, no matter how hard the other tries.

And believe Nokto, he tried. 

There used to be no use getting through to Licht. Nokto’d make a dumb joke at a meeting between the two factions and look to his other half, hoping to see a hint of a smile on his face. He was always met with an even gaze and downturned lips. If he tried to bribe Licht to have a brotherly chat with him with a plate full of sweets, Licht would accuse Nokto of having an agenda and walk away after grabbing a custard pie. Nokto did have an agenda, of course. But, he really just wanted to get through to his brother. When Nokto was around Licht for too long, he just wanted to grab his older brother by his shoulders and scream that He was hurting too. They should bask in the pain together, and help carry each other's pain. Nokto also knew that doing so was no good; forcing Licht to listen to anything he’s ever had to say only resulted in the black cloud of doom over Licht’s head to darken even more, the thunderstorm brewing more intimidating than any enemy Nokto has ever seen Licht off to face on the battlefield. 

But with Emma, Licht was different. She embraced his darkness, she didn’t try to get him to snap out of it, instead offering to show him everyone who would miss him, if he chose to leave them. Show him the things he was missing, such as love and kindness and sunlight - all things Nokto knew his big brother deserved more than anything. It wasn’t as if Nokto hadn’t tried to offer Licht those things; Emma was just… special. She went about things in her own way.

Nokto adored his sister in law. She was everything both of the Klein boys needed and more. She showed them both patience while they both worked to rebuild their bond, clutching tightly at Licht’s clammy gloved hands and offering Nokto encouraging smiles when Licht wasn’t responding. Thanks to Emma, the relationship had slowly started to regrow between the twins.  It wasn’t without problems though, since Licht knew Nokto loved Emma in his own way, there was tension there when Nokto would mention her unprovoked if they were alone. Licht would get pouty, and it was adorable, and Nokto would laugh carefree like he and Licht used to do when they were children and tease Licht about the fact that he was too easy to rile up. Licht would usually march off at that point, to find Emma and bury his pouty face into her chest, which only made Nokto’s heart swell with even more love for the both of them.

If the light in Licht's eyes went out on that day when they were kids, Emma flipped on the switch, once again bringing brightness to his blood-red eyes.

Nokto was currently being led down the hallway by Emma, Licht at his side. She was pulling them along, blindfolds secured tightly around their eyes as she told them how she planned something special for the both of them. 

“It’s your birthday so you can’t tell me no.” She pouted, tying the blindfold around Nokto’s eyes. It was the late afternoon, Licht was also in the room, and Nokto could hear him shift his weight from one foot to the other.

“I think it’s the other way around, Ems.” Nokto noted, his signature lazy smile falling onto his lips. “It’s my birthday so you can’t tell me no.” And just to get a rise out of Licht, he added: “We’re already off to a pretty good start though. Never knew you were into blindfolding. Pretty kinky if you ask–” Licht smacked the back of Nokto’s head, earning a soft tut from Emma as she pulled herself on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her sweetheart's cheek. “No one asked you, Nokto.”

“Behave boys,” Emma giggled, pulling Nokto up off the side of his bed with one hand, enveloping Licht’s with the other as she pulled them out of the room and down into the formal dining hall.

Light filtered back into Nokto’s blinded vision as Emma’s gentle hands untied the makeshift blindfold. Sitting at the table along Yves, Jin, Luke, and Leon were all of the sweets and pastries either of the twins could imagine. Nokto glanced at Licht, and he looked torn between fleeing, and wanting to sit himself down and indulge in the confectionaries his beloved obviously put her heart and soul into making that night after Licht went to bed.

“So this is where you went last night,” Licht murmured into Emma’s  ear, his arm wrapping around her waist as he led her over to sit at the table. Nokto’s brother was the perfect example of a gentleman, pulling out Emma’s chair and tucking her napkin onto her lap as she blushed. Nokto thought it was adorable that no matter how long they were together, they still made each other blush like it was their first date. 

It made Nokto wish to have something like that someday. 

“Well, happy birthday Licht and Nokto.” Leon mused after Nokto had taken his place at the table as well. “It’s been a while since we had a birthday party here for one of us, but Emma insisted.”

“Yeah, aren’t you two a little old for this?” Yves, haughty as ever remarked, and Emma snickered at his expression. 

“You’re never too old to have a lady dote on you, in fact, the older you get, the better it usually becomes.” Nokto noted, nudging Emma with his elbow as Licht shot daggers at his brother and moved to pull her chair further away from Nokto. 

“Does that mean you have evening plans tonight, Nokto? Because if you don’t, I was thinking we hit up that one tavern in town. You know, that one where I met that lady?” Jin put his hands in front of him, miming squishing, which made Leon and Nokto laugh. Luke was sitting quietly, pouring a little bit of tea into a cup full of honey. 

“Sure, I’ll take you up on that. All my drinks are going on your tab though. Maybe you can find me a nice lady to bring back tonight.” Nokto bit into a dariole - Licht’s favorite - and the flavor exploded on his tongue. “These are really good.” “Thanks Nokto. I made them special for today since I know they’re Licht’s favorite.” Emma remarked, placing her hand over Licht’s bare one that was laying on the table. Idle chat from there ensued, everyone careful not to breach the topic of conversation of previous birthday, instead focusing on the present.

Finally, Licht wiped his face with his napkin, a satisfied look adorning his lips as he stood up. “Thank you all for coming to join me and Nokto for some tea today. It was nice. And... thank you for the birthday wishes.” A small smile crept up on his lips and Nokto had to stop himself from clutching at his heart and exclaiming how cute his little big brother looked at that moment. “And Nokto?” Nokto’s eyes met his mirror, and he felt a similar smile crawl onto his lips. “Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday, Licht.” He raised his hand in a lazy wave and with their final goodbyes, Licht and Emma were gone. And as Nokto looked out the window of the dining hall, he realized that Licht really took the light with him when he left; the sun had set, and Nokto only hoped that the moon would glow bright enough tonight that there’d be enough light outside for Licht and Emma to make it wherever they planned on going. That thought was enough for him to shove back his chair, and meet Jin’s expectant gaze with his own as he nodded his head and followed their eldest brother out the door.