The morning sun shines through your half closed blinds, a faint chill lingers in the air from the cracked window. As Astolfo walks into your room and right beside your bed, his pink braid swinging over one shoulder. He yawns wide, stretches his arms high until his short black dress rides up, then drops them with a sleepy grin. He leans in and pokes the lump under the covers, right where your side is.

“Rise and shiiiiine, sleeping beauty!” His voice is bright and still a little husky from whatever counted as sleep for a Servant. “Alright, alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy!”

He doesn’t wait. As a mischief feel sparks in his eyes as he yanks the blanket back just enough and crawls underneath. The mattress dips with his added weight. His fingers poking your ribs, your sides, the soft spot under your arm, tickling without mercy, his warm breath puffing against fabric as he giggles right along with his poking.