- um my ask box will always be open for ideas or reqs i might just take years to do them but i love ALL IDEAS!! however pls refrain from extreme nsfw/dark themes as i want this blog to be mainly sfw!!
- but also.. minors dni at the same time i may interact with nsfw every blue moon
ā¤ļøā¬ when you catch 176 gumi out grabbing tans, you also get the invitation to let your hands wander...
ā¤ļøā¬ 176 gumi (chloe, rutile, heathcliff) x sage! gn! reader āŖ
ā¤ļøā¬ 2.4k/intro + ~600 words per character
ā¤ļøā¬ dividers by diviniyae
ā¤ļøā¬ yumemachi beat the heat prompt: "can i touch?"
āWhat do we have here?ā
Three pairs of eyes fly to where you are: pink, blue, green. You bite back an amused giggle. Itās like a parallel universeās version of the PowerPuff girls, but instead of three loveable little cartoon characters, youāve netted yourself three wizards who are clearly up to something. Chloe, Rutile, and Heathcliff are all sprawled out in the courtyard in various states of undress, and when you tiptoe over to get a better look, you think you can make out something smeared over their skin.Ā
āMaster Sage! Itās good to see you!ā Chloe pipes up. Like the good-natured young man he is, he immediately breaks out into a wide grin when he recognizes you. He motions excitedly for you to come closer, eyes glinting like gemstones.Ā
āO-Ohā¦! Master Sage, we werenāt expecting you!ā Heathcliff nearly stumbles as he tries to get to his feet. You dismiss him and reassure him that you donāt mind, and he sheepishly lays back down with a newfound flush to his pale cheeks.Ā
āYou should join us! Weāre trying something out,ā Rutile tacks on. His pretty blond hair is tied up in a makeshift ponytail, and his melodic voice instantly sets you at ease. He looks at home, seemingly sunbathing in between his peers.
āJoin you in doing what?ā You tilt your head. Judging from how pink their skin has gotten, youād wager that theyāre trying to get some kind of tanā¦ But that wouldnāt explain the white substance that theyāve painted over their skin. Donāt you normally skip the sunscreen step when youāre trying to sunbathe?Ā
Chloeās the first to pipe up. His excitement is contagious, oozing out of his words like the faint sounds of birdsong seeping through the window cracks in the early morning. āI read about it in a little booklet from some tropical islands! Apparently the locals there will get something they call āsun tattoos!āā
āYup! You apply some sunscreen in a specific pattern, and then when youāre done laying out in the sun, youāll have a pattern of untanned skin!ā Rutile affirms. He holds up his arm to you, and true to his word, heās drawn on various flowers, a smiley face that looks strikingly similar to Mitile, and other pretty patterns.Ā
You have an inkling Chloe was the one to draw them on. Rutileās art tends to be moreā¦ avant-garde, so to say.
āWe even modeled some after the lily mark we all have,ā Heathcliff shyly offers. When you step closer to him to get a better look at the place he gestures on his body, he lets out a shaky laugh from the sudden proximity. You take a quick glimpse and give an approving nod.
āLooks like Iāll have to come back and get a look when you three are all done later!ā You remark enthusiastically.Ā
You didnāt think it was possible for Chloe to brighten any further, but he somehow does. āOf course! I canāt wait to show you all of our pretty marks!āĀ
āYou'll be the first to see! Weāll even let you touch, if youād like!ā Rutile playfully tacks on. He winks when you pretend to swoon.
Heathcliff looks like he wants to bury his head in his hands at Rutileās bold offer. ā...Only if itās Master Sage. I donāt know if I can let anyone else touch me so casuallyā¦ā
CHLOE COLLINS
āCan I touch?ā
The question feels so much more loaded than you had intended, and the effect it has on sweet, bubbly Chloe is enough to make you flush with shame too. Heād been so eager to show you his new marks, acquired after many hours of strategically baking in the sun, that he had practically shepherded you into his room and thrown his clothes off before common sense regained its hold on him.
You donāt think youāve ever seen someone break down into apologies faster. Lucky for him, youāre more than willing to let it slide, and besides, you were curious about seeing the new sun tattoos he was so excited about.Ā
His round cheeks turn into the same color as his lush pink hair, but he nods, his eyes brimming with anticipation. His patterns of choice are emblematic of his newfound family: an overflowing wineglass for Shylock, the moon for Murr, and a bird in flight for Rustica. Thereās a mimicry of the midnight black Sageās lily next to them, and your heart fills with warmth at the sight. He considers you as one of his loved ones, and like a moth drawn to flickering flame, your fingertips gravitate towards the new lily.Ā
The outline of the new lily is brushed a florid crimson, bathed abundantly in sun. When your fingers brush gently over the silhouette, Chloe gives an audible gasp. You flinch backādid your touch somehow hurt him?
āOh-,ā realization seeps across Chloeās face, and another generous blush takes over his face, ā-I didnāt mean to scare you, Master Sage. Itās justā¦ This whole thing feels so intimate. I know Iām the one that said it was okay to touch me, but I think youāre the first person toā¦ to touch me like this. While Iāmā¦ shirtless and all nervous.ā
You blink owlishly, and this time, the implication makes your heart do a somersault. Heat explodes in your face, and you can barely meet his gaze. Chloe gives a squeal and shakes his head.
āIām sorry, Iām sorry! I just meant that- I canāt help but get nervous around you, Master Sage! I didnāt mean anything untowardly! I would never!ā He gives an embarrassed groan before burying his head in his hands. A second passes in silence, then another. Amusement pricks at the sides of your face, and you canāt help yourself any longer.
When you burst into laughter, Chloe slowly lifts his head. His curious amethyst eyes find yours, all crinkled up at how flummoxed the two of you have gotten over nothing, and after realizing that you could never truly hate him despite his social blunders, he offers up a sheepish smile too.Ā
āTheyāre so prettyā¦,ā you murmur. You press your fingers over the tanned pictures sprawled out over his skin again. The warmth of his body, the stress as he unconsciously tenses up and flexes part of his muscles, the blood rushing hot at work inside his veins: you can all feel them thrumming with so much vivacity under the pads of your fingers.Ā
You lift your eyes to meet his, and only then do you notice why Chloe had gotten so flustered to begin with. You two are so close to each other, your contact minimal but close enough where if either of you wanted it, you could be touching each other so much more. Your throat tightens as desire worms in your stomach.
āSo pretty.ā Youāre unable to stop yourself from repeating your words. When Chloe looks back at you with his big, innocent doe eyes, youāre no longer sure if youāre describing his tattoos or him as a whole.
RUTILE FLORES
āCan I touch?ā
Rutile casually drags his loose linen shirt over his head with a deep exhale, almost as if the very act of ridding his clothes fills with relief. Youād expect nothing less out of the idyllic Southern wizard: he doesnāt make a big show out of it in an attempt to seduce you or anything. You asked him something, and heās taking the steps needed to get there.
But still, a tinge of shyness worms its way through your chest at the expanse of his bare back. His blond hair just barely brushes the tops of his shoulders when he shakes his head, earrings swinging in arcs through the air with the motion. His shoulders themselves are sun-kissed, and the sunscreen patterns he and his friends have drawn on run rampant all over his torso. You can tell which ones are his by the squiggly lines that are unmistakably drawn with his confident yet unconventional hand, and when he lifts his arm like an offering to you, your hand reaches forward in a magnetic tug.Ā
His green eyes stay locked onto your trembling fingertips as they press into his skin. It feels reverent, the way he doesnāt shy away from letting your hands wander over his flesh. You feel almost greedy, going from gingerly pressing the pads of your fingers against the tanned patterns to fully grasping at his forearms and biceps with both hands.
āPretty, arenāt they?ā Heās the first to break the mounting silence, the impenetrable spike in temperature that grips the inside of your throat. As if he can read your mind, the ends of his mouth tip up into an affectionate smile. āI couldnāt stop staring at them once we were done. Iām glad someone else appreciates them just as much as I do.ā
His voice is hushed. Itās at times like this you have to remind yourself that thereās more than meets the eye when it comes to the pacifistic, altruistic Southern wizards. A deep streak of passion is engraved in each and every one of them. Venture too far with your guard down, and you might find yourself drowning. Or at least, thatās how you feel right now. His body heat radiates off of you, and your mouth goes dry, throat constricting as an infernal want careens through each and every one of your straining veins.Ā
You want to say something in response, comment on how itās great that heās cultivating friendships with other wizards across the manor. Itās what you should say, the respectable thing as the Sage. But right now, with him peering into your eyes with a look that reads more like a tempting invitation more than anything else, the Sage dissolves.
Itās just you. You, with him, laid out bare under your grasp.
āWorks of art, really. I think the fact that theyāll disappear with time makes me want to appreciate them so much more,ā he murmurs softly, for your ears only. The ambiguity makes your head spin in the best way possible, and all subtlety on your end goes flying out the window with reckless abandon. You donāt trust yourself to speak, not if you want to at least retain the faƧade of temperance that youāve fought to establish, but youād be lying if you said you didnāt want to dive headfirst into whatever flavor of hedonism Rutileās quite literally placing into your hands.
You squeeze his arms greedily, your hands tingling when you can feel the soft, warm flesh morphing into the contours of your knuckles and palms.Ā
Thereās an amused lilt in his next exhale when he opens his mouth to speak again. āSee? I knew you had an eye for fine things too, Master Sage. Soā¦ wonāt you admire them with me?ā
HEATHCLIFF BLANCHETT
āCan I touch?ā
A delicate flush stretches across his pale cheeks, and Heathcliff gives a ghost of a nodāone so quick and faint that if you knew him any less, you would have thought it was a trick of your eye. But his hands are firm and donāt shake at all when he undoes the intricate buttons on his shirt, and when it falls to a heap of fabric on the floor, youāre greeted with the untouched expanse of his newfound tanned skin and the untanned patterns that skate across his chest like wandering ivy.
His throat bobs when your curious fingertips brush against the gentle panes of his chest and shoulders. You donāt ever want to be cruel to Heathcliff, but even you have to admit that you get a bit of a kick out of setting him on edge. Itās in the way his eyes cloud over when you drag a fingernail over the blurred edge of a tanned silhouette, the way his pink lips part slightly in an all-too-sensual exhale when you press down, the way his voice wobbles when he chokes out, ā...Master Sage-ā
āYes, Heathcliff?ā You pause. You lift your gaze from wandering shamelessly over his body to his eyes. You control your blinking, not wanting to let go of whatever electric tension is running over between the two of you. In contrast, his vision seems to be swimming, the vibrant blue of his irises melting like a pool of trembling ocean waves under your heat.
āIāve never had someoneā¦ see me like this before. Iām a littleā¦ shy,ā he confesses breathlessly. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin when you walk your fingers up the curve of his biceps and land them on his shoulder with a spin for a flourish.
āDo you want me to stop? If youāre uncomfortable, Iāll back off,ā you reply back, āYouāre allowed to refuse me whenever you want, you know. You donāt have to indulge you because Iām the Sage.ā
Heathcliff shakes his head. Blond strands fly across his forehead, contrasting perfectly against the heavy flush that keeps dyeing his face. Itās as if heās somehow gotten tipsy, but you both know that heās too lucid to even make that excuse. He hasnāt had a drop of alcohol, and even if he wanted it, Nero and Shylock would wave him off as too young.
āI donāt want you to stop. Please keep going,ā he whispers quickly, the words pushed out of his mouth as if heās afraid that his own courage will fail if he hesitates any longer. āI wouldnāt do this with anyone, butā¦ you arenāt just anyone. I hope you understand.ā
You crack a smile that feels too innocent for whatās happening, a wolf in sheepās clothing. If he allowed you to, youād swallow him whole until not even a bone remained. You canāt help him. Something about him strokes your appetite just right, and with each mouthful he allows you to taste, you grow so much more insatiable.Ā
But in a way, maybe heās aware of that push and pull. Itās why he keeps indulging you bit by bit, fiending for this game of chase, the pursuit that keeps both of you on your toes. After all, it would be so novel for him, the sheltered golden boy of the Blanchett Mansion, one of the respected Sageās wizards, doing all kinds of illicit things together with the Master Sageā¦
āOf course I understand.ā Your response comes out so easily, a confession with your real intentions sewn discreetly into the hems. Your fingers trace up the side of his neck, and his throat bobs when he swallows thickly.
You greedily fill up the watery reflection in his eyes. And with a satisfied smile, he acquiesces to your touch and lets his eyelids flutter shut.
ā¤ļøā¬ when you catch 176 gumi out grabbing tans, you also get the invitation to let your hands wander...
ā¤ļøā¬ 176 gumi (chloe, rutile, heathcliff) x sage! gn! reader āŖ
ā¤ļøā¬ 2.4k/intro + ~600 words per character
ā¤ļøā¬ dividers by diviniyae
ā¤ļøā¬ yumemachi beat the heat prompt: "can i touch?"
āWhat do we have here?ā
Three pairs of eyes fly to where you are: pink, blue, green. You bite back an amused giggle. Itās like a parallel universeās version of the PowerPuff girls, but instead of three loveable little cartoon characters, youāve netted yourself three wizards who are clearly up to something. Chloe, Rutile, and Heathcliff are all sprawled out in the courtyard in various states of undress, and when you tiptoe over to get a better look, you think you can make out something smeared over their skin.Ā
āMaster Sage! Itās good to see you!ā Chloe pipes up. Like the good-natured young man he is, he immediately breaks out into a wide grin when he recognizes you. He motions excitedly for you to come closer, eyes glinting like gemstones.Ā
āO-Ohā¦! Master Sage, we werenāt expecting you!ā Heathcliff nearly stumbles as he tries to get to his feet. You dismiss him and reassure him that you donāt mind, and he sheepishly lays back down with a newfound flush to his pale cheeks.Ā
āYou should join us! Weāre trying something out,ā Rutile tacks on. His pretty blond hair is tied up in a makeshift ponytail, and his melodic voice instantly sets you at ease. He looks at home, seemingly sunbathing in between his peers.
āJoin you in doing what?ā You tilt your head. Judging from how pink their skin has gotten, youād wager that theyāre trying to get some kind of tanā¦ But that wouldnāt explain the white substance that theyāve painted over their skin. Donāt you normally skip the sunscreen step when youāre trying to sunbathe?Ā
Chloeās the first to pipe up. His excitement is contagious, oozing out of his words like the faint sounds of birdsong seeping through the window cracks in the early morning. āI read about it in a little booklet from some tropical islands! Apparently the locals there will get something they call āsun tattoos!āā
āYup! You apply some sunscreen in a specific pattern, and then when youāre done laying out in the sun, youāll have a pattern of untanned skin!ā Rutile affirms. He holds up his arm to you, and true to his word, heās drawn on various flowers, a smiley face that looks strikingly similar to Mitile, and other pretty patterns.Ā
You have an inkling Chloe was the one to draw them on. Rutileās art tends to be moreā¦ avant-garde, so to say.
āWe even modeled some after the lily mark we all have,ā Heathcliff shyly offers. When you step closer to him to get a better look at the place he gestures on his body, he lets out a shaky laugh from the sudden proximity. You take a quick glimpse and give an approving nod.
āLooks like Iāll have to come back and get a look when you three are all done later!ā You remark enthusiastically.Ā
You didnāt think it was possible for Chloe to brighten any further, but he somehow does. āOf course! I canāt wait to show you all of our pretty marks!āĀ
āYou'll be the first to see! Weāll even let you touch, if youād like!ā Rutile playfully tacks on. He winks when you pretend to swoon.
Heathcliff looks like he wants to bury his head in his hands at Rutileās bold offer. ā...Only if itās Master Sage. I donāt know if I can let anyone else touch me so casuallyā¦ā
CHLOE COLLINS
āCan I touch?ā
The question feels so much more loaded than you had intended, and the effect it has on sweet, bubbly Chloe is enough to make you flush with shame too. Heād been so eager to show you his new marks, acquired after many hours of strategically baking in the sun, that he had practically shepherded you into his room and thrown his clothes off before common sense regained its hold on him.
You donāt think youāve ever seen someone break down into apologies faster. Lucky for him, youāre more than willing to let it slide, and besides, you were curious about seeing the new sun tattoos he was so excited about.Ā
His round cheeks turn into the same color as his lush pink hair, but he nods, his eyes brimming with anticipation. His patterns of choice are emblematic of his newfound family: an overflowing wineglass for Shylock, the moon for Murr, and a bird in flight for Rustica. Thereās a mimicry of the midnight black Sageās lily next to them, and your heart fills with warmth at the sight. He considers you as one of his loved ones, and like a moth drawn to flickering flame, your fingertips gravitate towards the new lily.Ā
The outline of the new lily is brushed a florid crimson, bathed abundantly in sun. When your fingers brush gently over the silhouette, Chloe gives an audible gasp. You flinch backādid your touch somehow hurt him?
āOh-,ā realization seeps across Chloeās face, and another generous blush takes over his face, ā-I didnāt mean to scare you, Master Sage. Itās justā¦ This whole thing feels so intimate. I know Iām the one that said it was okay to touch me, but I think youāre the first person toā¦ to touch me like this. While Iāmā¦ shirtless and all nervous.ā
You blink owlishly, and this time, the implication makes your heart do a somersault. Heat explodes in your face, and you can barely meet his gaze. Chloe gives a squeal and shakes his head.
āIām sorry, Iām sorry! I just meant that- I canāt help but get nervous around you, Master Sage! I didnāt mean anything untowardly! I would never!ā He gives an embarrassed groan before burying his head in his hands. A second passes in silence, then another. Amusement pricks at the sides of your face, and you canāt help yourself any longer.
When you burst into laughter, Chloe slowly lifts his head. His curious amethyst eyes find yours, all crinkled up at how flummoxed the two of you have gotten over nothing, and after realizing that you could never truly hate him despite his social blunders, he offers up a sheepish smile too.Ā
āTheyāre so prettyā¦,ā you murmur. You press your fingers over the tanned pictures sprawled out over his skin again. The warmth of his body, the stress as he unconsciously tenses up and flexes part of his muscles, the blood rushing hot at work inside his veins: you can all feel them thrumming with so much vivacity under the pads of your fingers.Ā
You lift your eyes to meet his, and only then do you notice why Chloe had gotten so flustered to begin with. You two are so close to each other, your contact minimal but close enough where if either of you wanted it, you could be touching each other so much more. Your throat tightens as desire worms in your stomach.
āSo pretty.ā Youāre unable to stop yourself from repeating your words. When Chloe looks back at you with his big, innocent doe eyes, youāre no longer sure if youāre describing his tattoos or him as a whole.
RUTILE FLORES
āCan I touch?ā
Rutile casually drags his loose linen shirt over his head with a deep exhale, almost as if the very act of ridding his clothes fills with relief. Youād expect nothing less out of the idyllic Southern wizard: he doesnāt make a big show out of it in an attempt to seduce you or anything. You asked him something, and heās taking the steps needed to get there.
But still, a tinge of shyness worms its way through your chest at the expanse of his bare back. His blond hair just barely brushes the tops of his shoulders when he shakes his head, earrings swinging in arcs through the air with the motion. His shoulders themselves are sun-kissed, and the sunscreen patterns he and his friends have drawn on run rampant all over his torso. You can tell which ones are his by the squiggly lines that are unmistakably drawn with his confident yet unconventional hand, and when he lifts his arm like an offering to you, your hand reaches forward in a magnetic tug.Ā
His green eyes stay locked onto your trembling fingertips as they press into his skin. It feels reverent, the way he doesnāt shy away from letting your hands wander over his flesh. You feel almost greedy, going from gingerly pressing the pads of your fingers against the tanned patterns to fully grasping at his forearms and biceps with both hands.
āPretty, arenāt they?ā Heās the first to break the mounting silence, the impenetrable spike in temperature that grips the inside of your throat. As if he can read your mind, the ends of his mouth tip up into an affectionate smile. āI couldnāt stop staring at them once we were done. Iām glad someone else appreciates them just as much as I do.ā
His voice is hushed. Itās at times like this you have to remind yourself that thereās more than meets the eye when it comes to the pacifistic, altruistic Southern wizards. A deep streak of passion is engraved in each and every one of them. Venture too far with your guard down, and you might find yourself drowning. Or at least, thatās how you feel right now. His body heat radiates off of you, and your mouth goes dry, throat constricting as an infernal want careens through each and every one of your straining veins.Ā
You want to say something in response, comment on how itās great that heās cultivating friendships with other wizards across the manor. Itās what you should say, the respectable thing as the Sage. But right now, with him peering into your eyes with a look that reads more like a tempting invitation more than anything else, the Sage dissolves.
Itās just you. You, with him, laid out bare under your grasp.
āWorks of art, really. I think the fact that theyāll disappear with time makes me want to appreciate them so much more,ā he murmurs softly, for your ears only. The ambiguity makes your head spin in the best way possible, and all subtlety on your end goes flying out the window with reckless abandon. You donāt trust yourself to speak, not if you want to at least retain the faƧade of temperance that youāve fought to establish, but youād be lying if you said you didnāt want to dive headfirst into whatever flavor of hedonism Rutileās quite literally placing into your hands.
You squeeze his arms greedily, your hands tingling when you can feel the soft, warm flesh morphing into the contours of your knuckles and palms.Ā
Thereās an amused lilt in his next exhale when he opens his mouth to speak again. āSee? I knew you had an eye for fine things too, Master Sage. Soā¦ wonāt you admire them with me?ā
HEATHCLIFF BLANCHETT
āCan I touch?ā
A delicate flush stretches across his pale cheeks, and Heathcliff gives a ghost of a nodāone so quick and faint that if you knew him any less, you would have thought it was a trick of your eye. But his hands are firm and donāt shake at all when he undoes the intricate buttons on his shirt, and when it falls to a heap of fabric on the floor, youāre greeted with the untouched expanse of his newfound tanned skin and the untanned patterns that skate across his chest like wandering ivy.
His throat bobs when your curious fingertips brush against the gentle panes of his chest and shoulders. You donāt ever want to be cruel to Heathcliff, but even you have to admit that you get a bit of a kick out of setting him on edge. Itās in the way his eyes cloud over when you drag a fingernail over the blurred edge of a tanned silhouette, the way his pink lips part slightly in an all-too-sensual exhale when you press down, the way his voice wobbles when he chokes out, ā...Master Sage-ā
āYes, Heathcliff?ā You pause. You lift your gaze from wandering shamelessly over his body to his eyes. You control your blinking, not wanting to let go of whatever electric tension is running over between the two of you. In contrast, his vision seems to be swimming, the vibrant blue of his irises melting like a pool of trembling ocean waves under your heat.
āIāve never had someoneā¦ see me like this before. Iām a littleā¦ shy,ā he confesses breathlessly. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin when you walk your fingers up the curve of his biceps and land them on his shoulder with a spin for a flourish.
āDo you want me to stop? If youāre uncomfortable, Iāll back off,ā you reply back, āYouāre allowed to refuse me whenever you want, you know. You donāt have to indulge you because Iām the Sage.ā
Heathcliff shakes his head. Blond strands fly across his forehead, contrasting perfectly against the heavy flush that keeps dyeing his face. Itās as if heās somehow gotten tipsy, but you both know that heās too lucid to even make that excuse. He hasnāt had a drop of alcohol, and even if he wanted it, Nero and Shylock would wave him off as too young.
āI donāt want you to stop. Please keep going,ā he whispers quickly, the words pushed out of his mouth as if heās afraid that his own courage will fail if he hesitates any longer. āI wouldnāt do this with anyone, butā¦ you arenāt just anyone. I hope you understand.ā
You crack a smile that feels too innocent for whatās happening, a wolf in sheepās clothing. If he allowed you to, youād swallow him whole until not even a bone remained. You canāt help him. Something about him strokes your appetite just right, and with each mouthful he allows you to taste, you grow so much more insatiable.Ā
But in a way, maybe heās aware of that push and pull. Itās why he keeps indulging you bit by bit, fiending for this game of chase, the pursuit that keeps both of you on your toes. After all, it would be so novel for him, the sheltered golden boy of the Blanchett Mansion, one of the respected Sageās wizards, doing all kinds of illicit things together with the Master Sageā¦
āOf course I understand.ā Your response comes out so easily, a confession with your real intentions sewn discreetly into the hems. Your fingers trace up the side of his neck, and his throat bobs when he swallows thickly.
You greedily fill up the watery reflection in his eyes. And with a satisfied smile, he acquiesces to your touch and lets his eyelids flutter shut.
ā¤ļøā¬ when you catch 176 gumi out grabbing tans, you also get the invitation to let your hands wander...
ā¤ļøā¬ 176 gumi (chloe, rutile, heathcliff) x sage! gn! reader āŖ
ā¤ļøā¬ 2.4k/intro + ~600 words per character
ā¤ļøā¬ dividers by diviniyae
ā¤ļøā¬ yumemachi beat the heat prompt: "can i touch?"
āWhat do we have here?ā
Three pairs of eyes fly to where you are: pink, blue, green. You bite back an amused giggle. Itās like a parallel universeās version of the PowerPuff girls, but instead of three loveable little cartoon characters, youāve netted yourself three wizards who are clearly up to something. Chloe, Rutile, and Heathcliff are all sprawled out in the courtyard in various states of undress, and when you tiptoe over to get a better look, you think you can make out something smeared over their skin.Ā
āMaster Sage! Itās good to see you!ā Chloe pipes up. Like the good-natured young man he is, he immediately breaks out into a wide grin when he recognizes you. He motions excitedly for you to come closer, eyes glinting like gemstones.Ā
āO-Ohā¦! Master Sage, we werenāt expecting you!ā Heathcliff nearly stumbles as he tries to get to his feet. You dismiss him and reassure him that you donāt mind, and he sheepishly lays back down with a newfound flush to his pale cheeks.Ā
āYou should join us! Weāre trying something out,ā Rutile tacks on. His pretty blond hair is tied up in a makeshift ponytail, and his melodic voice instantly sets you at ease. He looks at home, seemingly sunbathing in between his peers.
āJoin you in doing what?ā You tilt your head. Judging from how pink their skin has gotten, youād wager that theyāre trying to get some kind of tanā¦ But that wouldnāt explain the white substance that theyāve painted over their skin. Donāt you normally skip the sunscreen step when youāre trying to sunbathe?Ā
Chloeās the first to pipe up. His excitement is contagious, oozing out of his words like the faint sounds of birdsong seeping through the window cracks in the early morning. āI read about it in a little booklet from some tropical islands! Apparently the locals there will get something they call āsun tattoos!āā
āYup! You apply some sunscreen in a specific pattern, and then when youāre done laying out in the sun, youāll have a pattern of untanned skin!ā Rutile affirms. He holds up his arm to you, and true to his word, heās drawn on various flowers, a smiley face that looks strikingly similar to Mitile, and other pretty patterns.Ā
You have an inkling Chloe was the one to draw them on. Rutileās art tends to be moreā¦ avant-garde, so to say.
āWe even modeled some after the lily mark we all have,ā Heathcliff shyly offers. When you step closer to him to get a better look at the place he gestures on his body, he lets out a shaky laugh from the sudden proximity. You take a quick glimpse and give an approving nod.
āLooks like Iāll have to come back and get a look when you three are all done later!ā You remark enthusiastically.Ā
You didnāt think it was possible for Chloe to brighten any further, but he somehow does. āOf course! I canāt wait to show you all of our pretty marks!āĀ
āYou'll be the first to see! Weāll even let you touch, if youād like!ā Rutile playfully tacks on. He winks when you pretend to swoon.
Heathcliff looks like he wants to bury his head in his hands at Rutileās bold offer. ā...Only if itās Master Sage. I donāt know if I can let anyone else touch me so casuallyā¦ā
CHLOE COLLINS
āCan I touch?ā
The question feels so much more loaded than you had intended, and the effect it has on sweet, bubbly Chloe is enough to make you flush with shame too. Heād been so eager to show you his new marks, acquired after many hours of strategically baking in the sun, that he had practically shepherded you into his room and thrown his clothes off before common sense regained its hold on him.
You donāt think youāve ever seen someone break down into apologies faster. Lucky for him, youāre more than willing to let it slide, and besides, you were curious about seeing the new sun tattoos he was so excited about.Ā
His round cheeks turn into the same color as his lush pink hair, but he nods, his eyes brimming with anticipation. His patterns of choice are emblematic of his newfound family: an overflowing wineglass for Shylock, the moon for Murr, and a bird in flight for Rustica. Thereās a mimicry of the midnight black Sageās lily next to them, and your heart fills with warmth at the sight. He considers you as one of his loved ones, and like a moth drawn to flickering flame, your fingertips gravitate towards the new lily.Ā
The outline of the new lily is brushed a florid crimson, bathed abundantly in sun. When your fingers brush gently over the silhouette, Chloe gives an audible gasp. You flinch backādid your touch somehow hurt him?
āOh-,ā realization seeps across Chloeās face, and another generous blush takes over his face, ā-I didnāt mean to scare you, Master Sage. Itās justā¦ This whole thing feels so intimate. I know Iām the one that said it was okay to touch me, but I think youāre the first person toā¦ to touch me like this. While Iāmā¦ shirtless and all nervous.ā
You blink owlishly, and this time, the implication makes your heart do a somersault. Heat explodes in your face, and you can barely meet his gaze. Chloe gives a squeal and shakes his head.
āIām sorry, Iām sorry! I just meant that- I canāt help but get nervous around you, Master Sage! I didnāt mean anything untowardly! I would never!ā He gives an embarrassed groan before burying his head in his hands. A second passes in silence, then another. Amusement pricks at the sides of your face, and you canāt help yourself any longer.
When you burst into laughter, Chloe slowly lifts his head. His curious amethyst eyes find yours, all crinkled up at how flummoxed the two of you have gotten over nothing, and after realizing that you could never truly hate him despite his social blunders, he offers up a sheepish smile too.Ā
āTheyāre so prettyā¦,ā you murmur. You press your fingers over the tanned pictures sprawled out over his skin again. The warmth of his body, the stress as he unconsciously tenses up and flexes part of his muscles, the blood rushing hot at work inside his veins: you can all feel them thrumming with so much vivacity under the pads of your fingers.Ā
You lift your eyes to meet his, and only then do you notice why Chloe had gotten so flustered to begin with. You two are so close to each other, your contact minimal but close enough where if either of you wanted it, you could be touching each other so much more. Your throat tightens as desire worms in your stomach.
āSo pretty.ā Youāre unable to stop yourself from repeating your words. When Chloe looks back at you with his big, innocent doe eyes, youāre no longer sure if youāre describing his tattoos or him as a whole.
RUTILE FLORES
āCan I touch?ā
Rutile casually drags his loose linen shirt over his head with a deep exhale, almost as if the very act of ridding his clothes fills with relief. Youād expect nothing less out of the idyllic Southern wizard: he doesnāt make a big show out of it in an attempt to seduce you or anything. You asked him something, and heās taking the steps needed to get there.
But still, a tinge of shyness worms its way through your chest at the expanse of his bare back. His blond hair just barely brushes the tops of his shoulders when he shakes his head, earrings swinging in arcs through the air with the motion. His shoulders themselves are sun-kissed, and the sunscreen patterns he and his friends have drawn on run rampant all over his torso. You can tell which ones are his by the squiggly lines that are unmistakably drawn with his confident yet unconventional hand, and when he lifts his arm like an offering to you, your hand reaches forward in a magnetic tug.Ā
His green eyes stay locked onto your trembling fingertips as they press into his skin. It feels reverent, the way he doesnāt shy away from letting your hands wander over his flesh. You feel almost greedy, going from gingerly pressing the pads of your fingers against the tanned patterns to fully grasping at his forearms and biceps with both hands.
āPretty, arenāt they?ā Heās the first to break the mounting silence, the impenetrable spike in temperature that grips the inside of your throat. As if he can read your mind, the ends of his mouth tip up into an affectionate smile. āI couldnāt stop staring at them once we were done. Iām glad someone else appreciates them just as much as I do.ā
His voice is hushed. Itās at times like this you have to remind yourself that thereās more than meets the eye when it comes to the pacifistic, altruistic Southern wizards. A deep streak of passion is engraved in each and every one of them. Venture too far with your guard down, and you might find yourself drowning. Or at least, thatās how you feel right now. His body heat radiates off of you, and your mouth goes dry, throat constricting as an infernal want careens through each and every one of your straining veins.Ā
You want to say something in response, comment on how itās great that heās cultivating friendships with other wizards across the manor. Itās what you should say, the respectable thing as the Sage. But right now, with him peering into your eyes with a look that reads more like a tempting invitation more than anything else, the Sage dissolves.
Itās just you. You, with him, laid out bare under your grasp.
āWorks of art, really. I think the fact that theyāll disappear with time makes me want to appreciate them so much more,ā he murmurs softly, for your ears only. The ambiguity makes your head spin in the best way possible, and all subtlety on your end goes flying out the window with reckless abandon. You donāt trust yourself to speak, not if you want to at least retain the faƧade of temperance that youāve fought to establish, but youād be lying if you said you didnāt want to dive headfirst into whatever flavor of hedonism Rutileās quite literally placing into your hands.
You squeeze his arms greedily, your hands tingling when you can feel the soft, warm flesh morphing into the contours of your knuckles and palms.Ā
Thereās an amused lilt in his next exhale when he opens his mouth to speak again. āSee? I knew you had an eye for fine things too, Master Sage. Soā¦ wonāt you admire them with me?ā
HEATHCLIFF BLANCHETT
āCan I touch?ā
A delicate flush stretches across his pale cheeks, and Heathcliff gives a ghost of a nodāone so quick and faint that if you knew him any less, you would have thought it was a trick of your eye. But his hands are firm and donāt shake at all when he undoes the intricate buttons on his shirt, and when it falls to a heap of fabric on the floor, youāre greeted with the untouched expanse of his newfound tanned skin and the untanned patterns that skate across his chest like wandering ivy.
His throat bobs when your curious fingertips brush against the gentle panes of his chest and shoulders. You donāt ever want to be cruel to Heathcliff, but even you have to admit that you get a bit of a kick out of setting him on edge. Itās in the way his eyes cloud over when you drag a fingernail over the blurred edge of a tanned silhouette, the way his pink lips part slightly in an all-too-sensual exhale when you press down, the way his voice wobbles when he chokes out, ā...Master Sage-ā
āYes, Heathcliff?ā You pause. You lift your gaze from wandering shamelessly over his body to his eyes. You control your blinking, not wanting to let go of whatever electric tension is running over between the two of you. In contrast, his vision seems to be swimming, the vibrant blue of his irises melting like a pool of trembling ocean waves under your heat.
āIāve never had someoneā¦ see me like this before. Iām a littleā¦ shy,ā he confesses breathlessly. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin when you walk your fingers up the curve of his biceps and land them on his shoulder with a spin for a flourish.
āDo you want me to stop? If youāre uncomfortable, Iāll back off,ā you reply back, āYouāre allowed to refuse me whenever you want, you know. You donāt have to indulge you because Iām the Sage.ā
Heathcliff shakes his head. Blond strands fly across his forehead, contrasting perfectly against the heavy flush that keeps dyeing his face. Itās as if heās somehow gotten tipsy, but you both know that heās too lucid to even make that excuse. He hasnāt had a drop of alcohol, and even if he wanted it, Nero and Shylock would wave him off as too young.
āI donāt want you to stop. Please keep going,ā he whispers quickly, the words pushed out of his mouth as if heās afraid that his own courage will fail if he hesitates any longer. āI wouldnāt do this with anyone, butā¦ you arenāt just anyone. I hope you understand.ā
You crack a smile that feels too innocent for whatās happening, a wolf in sheepās clothing. If he allowed you to, youād swallow him whole until not even a bone remained. You canāt help him. Something about him strokes your appetite just right, and with each mouthful he allows you to taste, you grow so much more insatiable.Ā
But in a way, maybe heās aware of that push and pull. Itās why he keeps indulging you bit by bit, fiending for this game of chase, the pursuit that keeps both of you on your toes. After all, it would be so novel for him, the sheltered golden boy of the Blanchett Mansion, one of the respected Sageās wizards, doing all kinds of illicit things together with the Master Sageā¦
āOf course I understand.ā Your response comes out so easily, a confession with your real intentions sewn discreetly into the hems. Your fingers trace up the side of his neck, and his throat bobs when he swallows thickly.
You greedily fill up the watery reflection in his eyes. And with a satisfied smile, he acquiesces to your touch and lets his eyelids flutter shut.
