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lorei-writes · 9 months

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HC: Chevalier & Esther - Morning Routine

Chevalier x OC (OC Chart: Esther) Fluff Word Count: ~800

Content Warnings: none

Morning Routine

The routine differs, depending on whether Esther's illness is in a remission or a flare up period.

Remission Period

Esther opens her eyes as soon as the sun rises. Her day starts soon after.

Her first "proper" duty is to force Chevalier out of the bed. That being said, Esther has long given up on the thought of it ever going smoothly. She knows what scenario is likely to unravel if conventional means were to be employed.

It'd follow as such: After stopping at far enough distance from the bed, she'd call Chevalier, to which he'd reply with hiding his head below the pillow (the pillow and the covers if she were particularly loud). Past that point her only option would be to step closer, until inevitably she'd find herself within his reach and be dragged into the bed.

Checkmate. She'd lose. Again.

That being said, this awareness is what has enabled her to conjure a plan -- one that works reliably and produces satisfactory results.

It all starts roughly an hour and a half before Chevalier needs to be awake.

Esther enters the room quietly. She removes the chatlaine from her belt and sets it on the desk, careful as not to encourage its clatter. She drapes her capelet over the back of the chair, takes off her shoes, discards her skirts and shirt... and climbs onto the bed.

It has never been productive to aim for instant victory.

It has to be her and her alone that Chevalier reaches for once agitated. Having led to that scenario, Esther brushes his hair back.

"Good morning," Esther whispers.

"...Be quiet," he grumbles out after a short while, perhaps roused by her touch, her fingers still lingering in his hair. Nevertheless, he is yet to complain.

"The sun's already up."

He does not say a word as he drags her into his embrace. Has he not spared her two already? Not that she'd demand anything more.

Some days Chevalier nuzzles into her, other times he cradles her against his chest. The former indicates he may be more willing to get up once the time comes.

The duvet seems to whisper as Esther pushes it further up Chevalier's arm; any sound is loud, too loud, in this space and time. Her breathing stops the moment his muscles twitch. She watches her love closely, fearful that if she as much as blinks, she'll ruin what little rest he has left.

It is only once the tension leaves his limbs that she knows all is well. Chevalier's heartbeat is strong, at times to the point that she thinks its echoes spread within her body -- and perhaps in a way they do, the very palpable contractions of the muscle somehow resulting in surges of something as intangible as affection.

It isn't uncommon for Esther to kiss Chevalier on the forehead and temples right before he has to wake up for good. Perhaps that makes it more bearable for him.

Flare Up Period

Chevalier has never been particularly willing to rouse instantly... but if it is to let her rest, he will force his sluggish body to cooperate.

Esther doesn't generally get much sleep at nights during the flares. The symptoms she experiences get the strongest then, peaking sometime between 2 and 4AM. It leaves her exhausted, but being her stubborn self, she still wishes to continue on with her routine for as long as possible.

Provided that it is at all possible.

His days have been filled with listening -- listening to quiet footfall that tries to disappear at nights, to muffled down complaints, the water running in the bathroom... to the peaceful puffs of air emerging from her lips come dawn. It's been the sole sound he's been hoping for.

Chevalier is reluctant to move, but he does. As nimbly as humanly possible, he climbs out of the bed, dresses himself to then just as soundlessly turn his steps towards the door. He stops, however. He cannot leave just yet.

Perhaps attracted by some strange magnetism wielded in hands of purely not-quite-obligations, Chevalier approaches the bed. He circles it, a predator searching for his prey, or conversely, a beast fearing an attack of a greater threat than himself. He observes, he assesses.

He acts. Esther has lost weight. One blanket is not enough to keep her warm.

Chevalier may rouse by himself, however, it does not mean he's any more palatable in the mornings.

Any person who enters his room with the intention of disturbing his (and by extension, Esther's) rest can expect for punishment to be delivered swiftly. Chevalier is overprotective and it is hard to convince him to change his approach.

You've seen a typo? Please, tell me!

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86 @rinaririr @keithsandwich @cheese-ception @bis-enti @claviscollections @queengiuliettafirstlady

+ @ochrosia , because I've mentioned this and you said you'd like to see it ^^"

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

#chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series #chevalier x oc #ikepri oc #ikepri esther #ikemen prince oc #canon x oc #oc x canon

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violettduchess · 4 months

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A/N: This is an official entry for the @flash-exchange In a Flash Creation Challenge. A huge thank you to @lorei-writes for all her help with organizing this so that I can post the whole thing at once.

Ikemen Prince OCs and their Suitors. Thank you to everyone who shared their OCs with me and trusted me to write them. It really is an honor! 💜

WC: 3.3 k

Esther x Chevalier (@lorei-writes) Bright fingers of sunlight try to push their way through the hazy white curtains, but even their insistent prodding isn’t enough to wake Chevalier. Esther, propped up on one elbow, takes a moment to study him, sunlight washing across his features, brightening the pale blond of his hair, gilding his long eyelashes, caressing the sharp line of his cheekbone. She smiles, allowing her fingertips to brush the soft, fair strands away from his forehead before leaning down, her own hair falling in curls over her shoulder like a curtain of ringed sunshine. “It’s morning, Chevka.” Her voice is brimming with affection, rounded with love. He grunts, the only sign of life aside from his steady breathing. Warmth blossoms in her heart and Esther knows what she must do. Cupping his face in her hand, she lowers her head until her lips touch his. She lingers there, reveling in the feel of his mouth, the scent of him, remaining still as a marbled statue until she feels him respond: there’s the curve of his smile against her lips and the sudden, secure wrap of his arms around her. In a voice thick with sleep and purring with tenderness, he kisses her back through the following words: “Good morning, my Ragdoll.”

Imogen x Nokto (@yarnnerdally) Nokto watches from the bed as Imogen rubs a towel through her damp chestnut hair, expressive green eyes narrowed in concentration. She catches sight of him in the mirror and turns, hand on her hip. “Something funny?” Slowly and shamelessly he sits up, allowing the bedsheets to slide down his lean torso and gather enticingly around his hips. “You….being so annoyed at having to bathe.” Imogen shakes her head, huffing out a breath. “You try getting all that chocolate out of your hair!” He grins slowly. “When I suggested we use chocolate, I believe your response was something like ‘Show me what you mean’ in a very seductive voice.” She rolls her eyes and his heart echoes the motion, flipping about in his chest as if he were some lovestruck youth. So what, he thinks. So what if he is? With a flourish he throws the bedsheets back and stalks towards her, relishing the way her expression goes from startled to heated in a matter of seconds. Nokto slides his arms around her, pulling her against his naked body, and dips his head so his lips brush the shell of her ear. “How about we take a bath together?” He kisses the sensitive spot just below his whispers and Imogen’s breath catches in her throat. “But…I’m already clean,” she murmurs, towel slipping from her hand to the floor. She feels his huff of laughter against her neck, the sharp nip of his teeth before he kisses the pink skin. “Then I will just have to dirty you again.” The words are throaty, a soft growl. She sighs happily, her body already saying yes as it yields itself to his kisses and his touch.

Melinda x Chevalier (@dododrawsstuff) “I have something to show you.” With these words, Chevalier reaches for Melinda’s hand, threading his fingers through hers tightly, and leads her through the winding halls of the palace and into one of the salons. “What...?” she murmurs as he drops her hand a bit quickly, a bit awkwardly. She watches, perplexed, as he makes his way to the elegant white piano and lowers himself onto the bench. There is no sheet music in front of him. What is he.....and then he places his hands on the ivory keys and begins to play. At first she is simply captivated by the movement of his beautiful hands, the dexterity of his elegant fingers, but then the melody breaks through and she gasps. It is a song from her home country, one she sings to herself when she feels the lonely pangs of homesickness echo through the corridors of her heart. It is a song made famous by a woman who sang from the very depths of her vibrant soul, whose voice not only comes from Brazil, but IS Brazil. Melinda’s vision blurs as she makes her way over to the piano. She never knew he was listening, let alone that he was mentally recording every note she sang. His hands still as the chords fade and he turns towards her. “I had to infer certain musical elements but I believe this was an adequate—” He stops speaking as Melinda leans down, capturing his face in her hands and kisses him, words unable to convey the gratitude and love for this man who sensed her sadness and tried to bring a piece of her home to her. He relaxes under her touch, eyes only opening when she pulls back to rest her forehead against his. “Obrigado meu querido.” Thank you, my love.

Beatrice x Yves (@bicayaya) The kitchen is filled with the smell of cinnamon and sugar. Humming to herself, Beatrice carefully uses the flat end of her knife to spread the thick, pink cream across each of the cookies that have cooled enough for decoration. She leans down, concentrating as she makes sure the spread is even, each cookie matching the one before. She doesn’t notice that Yves has returned from the small garden just outside the kitchen, nor does she notice the way he’s paused, simply watching her with sunny affection dancing in the bright blue skies of his eyes. “There,” she says, straightening up again, staring down at the sea of pink frosted cookies proudly. Glancing over her shoulder, she spots him and smiles. “Don’t they look wonderful?” He pushes off the doorway he’s been leaning against, his smile curving into a grin. “They do, little bee, but….” He stops in front of her and with a small laugh, touches the tip of her nose, his finger coming away pink. “It looks like you decorated yourself.” Beatrice gasps softly, touching her nose and then starts laughing when her fingertip is also pink. “I guess I got too close!” Yves sets down his small basket of edible flowers, reaching for a clean dish towel. Gently, he cleans her nose and then leans forward, giving it a light kiss. He starts to straighten up but she catches the back of his neck. “Ah ah….not when I have you so close.” He melts into her touch, sighing happily as he slides his arms around her and meets her lips for a kiss sweeter than all the cookies in Rhodolite.

Viva x Leon (@lorei-writes) Being king means many responsibilities and one of them is dealing with ambassadors. Most are skilled at what they do and therefore polite, but every now and then, one comes along who believes that rudeness may prove more advantageous than civility. Leon watches one such man walk away and sighs heavily into his champagne glass, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. The man was arrogant, condescending and above all, an idiot. At least Viva didn’t hear some of the insulting things he had said– “How dare he speak to you like that!” He winces inwardly, turning to see his beautiful wife puffed up with indignation. Her eyes are narrowed, her shoulders squared and she’s about to chase down the man and possibly cause an international incident. Leon quickly sets down his glass and catches her hands mid-raise, turning her away from the gathering so that she can only focus on him. “Viva, my love.” He smiles, tenderness welling up inside him at the sight of the indignant fire blazing her eyes. “That boar of a man–” she rumbles, ready to let loose a storm. Leon gently tugs her towards him and places a calming kiss on her lips. “Forget him, my beautiful, valiant rooster.” Her attention snaps to her husband at that and he laughs, triggering her own, answering chuckle, deflating the cloud of umbrage. He twirls a curl of her golden hair around his index finger, head tipped as he regards her. “How about we get out of here?” Viva grins slowly. Never has she heard a better idea.

Romarin x Leon (@ikeprinces-stuff) He follows the sound of music, the soft, mournful notes that guide him away from his study and up the winding stairs towards the salon on the third floor. It is a room he does not visit all that often. The walnut-colored door is open, just a crack, and he slowly pushes it further, peering inside. She’s standing by the window, magnetic jade eyes closed as she plays her beloved violin, that constant companion that saved her in so many, many ways. He watches her from the doorway, his heart aching in his chest at the story her music is telling. A song of sadness, of loneliness, of the dark, secret shadows that haunt a person’s heart. Her whole body bends as she plays, one with the instrument. The final note fades, leaving the room in silence until Leon clears his throat. Romarin’s eyes open, at first startled, but when she sees who it is she relaxes slowly like a skittish feline that needs a moment to recognize a kind face. “I didn’t know you were there.” He doesn’t answer with words but crosses the room to where she is standing. She notices the way he swallows, emotion balling in the back of his throat, before he places his hands on her shoulders and bends to place a kiss on her cheek. She breathes in deeply, the cool scent of him flooding her senses and steps closer, her violin hanging by her side as she rises onto her toes and kisses him, marveling at the way his mouth fits perfectly against hers. He sighs her name, sliding his hand along the silken moonlight of her pale hair. That sound, her name from his lips, feels as romantic and full of longing as any serenade, any sweet piece of music, could ever be.

Carina x Leon (@fang-and-feather) The campfire burns a warm orange, crackling steadily as it releases tiny red embers up into the night. The forest trees stand tall, reminding Leon of gentle, peaceful guardians keeping watch over the campsite he and Carina have built. Speaking of his love…he pulls his gaze away from the flames and stands, frowning. Where has she gone? Squinting, he looks beyond the tent towards the water. Moonlight glints off the smooth surface of the lake, silvery and idyllic. But there is no sign of her. A tiny tendril of concern sprouts in his heart and he’s about to call her name when suddenly, a dark shape explodes from behind several trees and leaps into the water, shattering the peaceful silver and filling the air with a loud gasp of laughter. He grins slowly. Of course. Carina waves from the water, still gasping from the shock of cold on her bare body. She watches, sapphire eyes alight with mischief and anticipation, as Leon makes his way towards the water, shedding his clothing piece by piece as he goes. Only when he is as bare as she is does he pause with a leonine grin on his face and then takes a running leap into the water, diving towards her. Their laughter fills the isolated area and when she holds out her arms in welcome, Leon swims to her and accepts her embrace. Moving aside her damp curls, he begins pressing kiss after kiss to her cheek, her neck, the curve of her shoulder, his mouth so very warm against her cool skin. Above the stars gleam brightly, tiny diamonds in a black velvet sky.

Ciel x Rio (@floydsteeth) Rio adjusts the straps of Ciel’s quiver on his shoulder as they walk back through the fields. He listens, bright blue eyes alight with adoration, as she explains the characteristics of the mushroom she is holding, a beautiful brown and pale green specimen she spotted on the way back from archery practice. “They only grow for a period of two weeks and then they’re gone. We’re so lucky we found—” Her words cut off and they both stop in their tracks. Just ahead, grazing upon the lush grass in the field, is a massive horse. It’s easily seventeen hands high, with powerful muscles that roll underneath its glossy silvery coat with every movement it makes. Ciel freezes, the little mushroom tumbling from her hand. “Rio.....” Her voice is small, shrunken with fear. But he’s already moving, walking towards the huge beast, calmly, fearlessly. “You seem to be in the wrong place, fella.” His tone is soothing, gentle. The horse lifts its great head and nickers. Before Rio can say another word, a red-faced stablehand comes huffing and puffing over the mound of tall grass. “This one got away,” he manages between deep breaths. “C’mon now Llwyd, let’s go.” He leads the horse away and Rio quickly returns to Ciel’s side. She’s pale but breathing steadily. Setting down the quiver of arrows, he reaches for her, pulling her against him and embraces her lovingly. “It’s ok.” He presses gentle kisses to the beauty marks on the side of her face. “It’s ok.” One final kiss, this time to her lips, soft and reassuring, a candle in the darkness. “Let’s go home.” He bends down, picking up the quiver and the tiny mushroom which he presses gently into her palm once again. “Let’s go home and you can keep telling me all about this little one on the way.”

Oliver x Sariel (@olivermorningstar) The sun has long since set, sinking into darkness, as Oliver adjusts the focus of his microscope. He wants to observe the bacteria he’s been cultivating just a little bit longer. The door to his study opens, the hinges squeaking softly, but he is so focused on his subject that he doesn’t even look up. The sound doesn’t even register. He’s muttering to himself, his black quill scratching against the parchment as he records his observations and questions they spark. It’s only the surprising sound of someone clearing their throat that breaks through, letting him know that he isn’t alone. He turns, eyes wide behind his glasses and then relaxes instantly when he sees Sariel. “It’s late,” the minister says as he approaches Oliver. The researcher sighs, turning to look over his shoulder at his instruments and his notes. “I know, I know but I just wanted to finish collecting my observations on this particular–” Sariel reaches up, gently taking hold of Oliver’s chin and turns his head back towards him. His eyes, an arresting dark violet, are full of something soft, something admiring. Still holding Oliver’s chin, he leans forward and presses a delicate kiss to his lips. Oliver’s breath catches in his throat, any and all protests crumbling immediately. Sariel kisses him again, then lets his fingers trail down his neck before falling back to his side. “I’ll wait here while you finish.” A rush of warmth colors Oliver’s cheeks. Sariel is so patient, so considerate….and somehow, in the greatest mystery known to mankind, he has chosen him to love, to care for. He nods, reaching out to briefly squeeze his hand. “Just another minute.”

Maeve x Keith (@keithsandwich) Maeve’s emerald eyes are closed, her head resting comfortably in Keith’s lap. The grass is soft beneath her bare feet and every now and then, a bird chirps, adding its music to the soothing sound of Keith’s voice as he reads to her from a new collection of Jadean poetry. In one hand he holds the slim volume, the other is holding hers, reveling in the feel of her slender fingers entwined with his. He’s reading a poem about love and nature and fate, about stars in the night sky that bless those who have found the sacred bond of lovers. Then he feels Maeve’s hand squeeze his and he lowers the book to find her looking up at him, those eyes wide open and bright, green as springtime, beautifully wild. Under that loving gaze he feels his heart unfold like a flower beckoned by sunshine and he can’t help himself, he has to kiss her. The book falls to the soft grass as he leans down just as she reaches for him. Gently he shifts her, pulling her into the warm circle of his arms, his lips moving over hers with wordless declarations of love and devotion. It is moments like this, enveloped in the safety of her love, that he understands a poet’s desire to try and capture the enormity of what it means to love and be loved in return. Maeve kisses him and the world is born anew. She smiles and it is daylight illuminating a field of wildflowers. He loves her and she loves him. There is nothing more natural or more beautiful.

Céline x Gilbert (@celiciaa) Céline slashes her way through the underbrush, single-mindedly heading towards the narrow dirt path that runs through this part of the dark Obsidian forest. Her sword bites into bushes and brambles, an extension of her fury. Gilbert knew they were being followed and went without her to take care of it. Damn it. Damn him. Her blade hacks through the last scattering of vegetation, revealing the earthen road and she stops when she sees the sight laid out before her. Gilbert, face flecked with crimson drops, pistol still in hand. Several bodies are laid out like fallen petals before him. He glances up from the havoc and offers her a bright smile. “They made poor choices.” Céline throws her long white braid over her shoulder, her sword falling to the ground as she crosses the space between them in several long strides, throwing her arms around him and kissing him fiercely. She catches his lip between her white teeth and bites down. The sound he makes is fire to gunpowder, sending a wash of heat straight through her body, every nerve feeling like it might explode at any moment. He pulls her tightly against him, their mouths restless and searching, rough and savage. She tastes blood, but it doesn’t matter. There’s blood everywhere anyway.

Leyla x Silvio (me) — The overcast sky matches the expression on Silvio’s face. He watches as the last of the crates are loaded onto Siren’s Call. Leyla’s ship. The one getting ready to leave the royal Benitoite port. “That’s the last one, Captain.” First Mate Kai clamps a large, reassuring hand on Leyla’s shoulder and she nods at him. He inclines his head towards Silvio, a begrudging sign of respect, before heading onto the gangway. The silence between Silvio and Leyla hangs as heavy as the gray clouds above. “I don’t get why you gotta go. You know I could–” Leyla cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head, her gold hoop earrings swaying with the movement. “I won’t be a kept woman. You know that.” She sighs heavily, brushing aside several wayward strands of hair that the wind has plucked free of her dark braid. Silvio’s fingers ache at the sight. He curls his hands into fists, fighting the burning need to touch her. “Besides,” she continues, “It’s not that long. Just a few months.” Her words are hollow with forced optimism. Silvio looks down at his boots, jaw clenched. “Fuck.” His voice is ragged. “Captain!” Kai’s deep baritone calls from the ship. “The tide!” “I know!” she barks back, her own voice scraped raw with emotion. Trying to ignore the vice squeezing her heart, she turns to Silvio. He lifts his head and in his eyes she sees all the words his mouth can’t form, all the storm clouds churning in his heart. At the same time they stumble towards each other. The kiss is messy and desperate, tinted with anger and sharp with longing. It’s Leyla who pulls away first, afraid she won’t be able to take a step towards her ship if she holds him a moment longer. “Good-bye.” He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He only watches as distance shrinks her figure, taking her away from him, with her kiss still lingering on his aching lips.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet

@silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton

@ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea

@chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja

@starlitmanor-network @sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381

@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @ozalysss @bestbryn

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri oc #ikemen oc #chevalier michel #leon dompteur #silvio ricci #yves kloss #nokto klein #gilbert von obsidian #keith howell #sariel noir #rio ortiz #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites #in a flash cc

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lorei-wrote · 5 months

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Various Works: Esther x Chevalier

Masterlist of various works (by @lorei-writes) regarding Esther, Chevalier, and their relationship.

OC Chart: Esther

Character Thoughts: Esther

Esther & viva: Relationship Charts

Sliced from Life - a relationship timeline (updating)

Art

Esther; Esther - redesign (post engagement)

Esther - crochet doll

sleeping embrace

Kiss

Esther in lingerie

Rosalie Michel (Esther and Chevalier's daughter)

"Who do you see?" (comic)

Writing

Roots of Deception [Masterlist Link]

Morning Routine [HC]

Library Quiet

Needless Need

To remember is a heavy burden to bear I

Language Practice

Prayers (smut; first time together)

Winter has its perks

Eidetism (smut)

Rock & Currents

Decade in Lilies

Lost Nightingale

My Dear Rag Doll

I, Your Rag Doll

Q&A: My Dear Rag Doll & I, Your Rag Doll

Confession

Peculiar 'I love you'

Luloj, luloj...

At Midnight (fic & art)

My Sunshine, My Starlight... Why?

Linen Topography (smut)

Four (Small) Feet & Curious Eyes (OC-centric)

Check out the #oc brainrot at @esther-viva-and-co for more. <3

#chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series #ikepri esther #ikemen prince oc #ikperi oc

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flash-exchange · 11 months

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In a Flash vol.1

Masterlist of works created for In a Flash CC. Thank you for participating!

Status: completed

October

Understaffed by @scorchieart (Magic Apprenticeship AU; Gen Fic; Comedy; Chevalier, Clavis, Jin, Leon, Licht, Nokto, Yves)

Viva & Esther by @lorei-writes (Masquerade; fanart; IkePri OCs)

Fae Clavis by @claviscollections (Fae AU; Romance; x Reader; Clavis)

Like the First Time by @venulus (Mythology AU - Vampire AU; Romance; x Reader; Clavis)

November

Hatter!Clavis by @claviscollections (Mad(ness) Hats; fanart; Clavis)

C. L. Hatter & His Invitation by @lorei-writes (inspired by the above; comedy; x Reader; Clavis)

December

Masamune fanart by @wordycheeseblob (In my... Clothes!? Challenge)

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laraleecupcake · 4 years

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11/50 - Pop Sugar Book Challenge 2021

Read / Currently Reading / To Read

Can’t repeat books, no Big Finish or dramatizations

Popsugar’s Reading Challenge for 2021!

A book that’s published in 2021 - “Ready Player 2″ by Ernie Cline (read by Wil Wheaton)

An Afrofuturist book

A book that has a heart, diamond, club or spade on the cover

A book by an author who shares your zodiac sign

A dark academia book

A book with a gem, mineral or rock in the title

A book where the main character works at your current or dream job - “Mistress Shakespeare” by Karen Harper

A book that has won the Women’s Prize for Fiction - Song of Achilles or Hamnet

A book with a family tree

A bestseller from the 1990s

A book about forgetting

A book you have seen on someone’s bookshelf (in real life, on a Zoom call, in a TV show, etc)

A locked-room mystery

A book set in a restaurant

A book with a black-and-white cover - "Down and Out In Paris and London” by George Orwell

A book by an indigenous author

A book that has the same title as a song - “The Invisible Man” by H.G. Wells (read by Wil Wheaton)

A book about a subject you are passionate about

A book that discusses body positivity

A book found on a Black Lives Matter reading list - The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

A genre hybrid

A book set mostly or entirely outdoors - “At The End of the Orchard” by Tracey Chevalier

A book with something broken on the cover

A book by a Muslim American author

A book that was published anonymously

A book with an oxymoron in the title

A book about do-overs or fresh starts

A magical realism book

A book set in multiple countries

A book set somewhere you’d like to visit in 2021

A book by a blogger, vlogger, YouTube creator or other online personality

A book whose title starts with Q, X or Z

A book featuring three generations (grandparent, parent, child) - “Snow White, Blood Red” by various authors

A book about a social justice issue

A book in a different format than what you normally read (audiobooks, ebooks, graphic novels) - “Divorce Horse” by Craig Johnson

A book that has fewer than 1,000 reviews on Amazon or Goodreads - “Splitting Heirs” by Lawrence Watt-Evans and Esther M. Friesner

A book you think your best friend would like - “A Whole New World” by Liz Braswell

A book about art or an artist - “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey - Chronicles I: Art & Design” by Daniel Falconer

A book everyone seems to have read but you

Your favorite prompt from a past Popsugar reading challenge (A book set in the 1920s) -

ADVANCED: The longest book (by pages) on your TBR list - Lord of the Rings trilogy

ADVANCED: The shortest book (by pages) on your TBR list - Creativity by John Cleese

ADVANCED: The book on your TBR list with the prettiest cover

ADVANCED: The book on your TBR list with the ugliest cover

ADVANCED: The book that’s been on your TBR list for the longest amount of time - “Shades of Grey” by Jasper Fford

ADVANCED: A book from your TBR list that you meant to read last year but didn’t - “Barracoon: The Story of the Last ‘Black Cargo’” by Zora Neale Hurston

ADVANCED: A book from your TBR list that you associate with a favorite person, place or thing

ADVANCED: A book from your TBR list chosen at random

ADVANCED: A DNF book from your TBR list

ADVANCED: A free book from your TBR list (gifted, borrowed, library) - “Now We Are Six Hundred” by James Gross

#book challenge 2021 #book challenge

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lorei-writes · 9 months

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Eidetism

Chevalier; Chevalier x OC (OC Chart: Esther) Smut Word Count: ~1.5k

Double smut for the price of one? I really love how this turned out in the end. A lot of thought went into this. :)

In short: the advantages (or troubles) that come with eidetic memory.

Contents: masturbation; marking, vaginal intercourse, mirror sex

Esther reaches for him despite the trembling of her hands. Her fingertips glide across his skin, trace his jaw, neck, to then map the outlines of his torso with the diligence of a true cartographer. It is as if she wanted to etch the image of him into a part of herself, to stash away this iteration of him in the safety of her mind. Brazen when in this state, she props herself on her elbow, to too mark him as hers… Her teeth graze his shoulder as her hand stops at his pants. She unbuckles his belt before reaching inside. And he lets her.

Those dreams, those pesky dreams that simply would not leave his head.

Chevalier turns onto his back, an upset sigh rippling the otherwise stationary air of the quarters granted to him. He stretches out his legs, the tension in his muscles feeling oddly comforting, much unlike the too empty bed and the too warm, or perhaps too cold, sheets. He breaths in deeply, quietly sulking over the absence of a certain familiar scent. His eyes shut by themselves.

Not a dream, but a memory; a fraction of a second stolen from a better day, the image of her lovingly spent smile, of her dishevelled hair and fiercely coloured roses blooming underneath her skin. Time does not follow the principles of physics in this realm, not when he is both the master and the slave, the yearning that claws at him stirring the most incomprehensible of desires in his loins.

Chevalier grunts, the very thought of revisiting the happenings of many nights prior a cacophony reverberating through his body. He frees himself from the duvet, the cooling effect of the night air hardly soothing his agitation, never mind easing the partially engorged need in his pants. He clicks his tongue… and gives in to the temptation. Chevalier thinks and lets his thoughts lead, his eyes closing for his mind to take him where he’d rather be.

Her body is properly flushed, from her face down to her shoulders and chest, a faint dusting of freckles adorning her lovely skin. Chevalier lowers his head to her collarbone. He plans to sample her, to caress her until her presence of mind deteriorates and it is only him that still lingers in her thoughts. Intentions are feeble things, however; her fingers find purchase in his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp just lightly enough for it not to hurt. She urges him to look at her, at her unfocused eyes half-hidden behind her lids, at lips that are much too soft not to be kissed. He needs to devour her before she devours him, not even fully aware of the threat she poses.

“Chevalier…” Esther whispers, his name an urgent plea. He presses her body into the sheets, but she is the one who allows it. Always allows it.

The nightly chill has faded. It is not in his nature to daydream yet he refuses to surface from the memory, the shallows surrounding the reality appearing rather treacherous. Almost mechanically, Chevalier pushes his pants down to release his hardened shaft. He grips it.

He can taste her on his lips, feel her body struggle against his as she writhes below him. Scent of lilac wafts from her hair, fresh and delicate, with a hint of floral sweetness. It electrifies his nerves. It is hardly like him to be this swayed, but he does give in and claims her breath, his tongue seeking hers with the urgent ferocity of a man possessed. He is precise; he shall not lose the sight of his objective, regardless of the circumstances at hand.

His throat feels mildly dry. Nevertheless, he does not stop the movements of his hand – up and down, Chevalier gradually increases his pace until he reaches a satisfying rhythm. The reality is of little importance right now.

His teeth rake down her neck. Esther shudders, her warmth turning scalding as crimson marks scatter over her skin. He sucks hard at her collarbone, hand brushing against the side of her breast; he cups it to then tease her nipple. Chevalier takes the other one in his mouth, but it is brief, his attention already moving towards her midriff. She’s gained some body back, and he cannot – or much rather, is unwilling to – wither the desire to cover it in his loving bites. Her impatience is palpable, however. Esther grips his shoulders.

Chevalier lets his head fall back against the pillow, a semi-transparent drop spilling from the tip of his shaft. It moistens his length, but he thinks nothing of it. Chevalier slows down a little, unconsciously drawing the moment out. There still is more of the memory for him to see. There… is no rush.

He looks up at her when she cups his cheeks. Esther doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t suppose she is exactly able to; regardless, it would be superfluous. His lips soothe the mark just below her navel while he considers her request. He’s feeling generous enough to at least let her try, so he pushes himself up and stares down at her, awaiting a reply.

And he lets her.

And he would let her again.

It is obvious she is initially lost. Esther knows neither how to hold him, nor how much strength to apply. However, she looks at his stoic face with those mellow dark eyes that can see him far too clearly – and whatever it is that she can read, she learns from it, until she needs no further instructions…

… and, were his hands not so rough, perhaps he could pretend that it was indeed her who pleasured him…

… and she discards her sight. Her lips seek his, over and over again, until he has no choice, but to push her back down, to her imminent discontent. Whatever he’s conquered, she now demands twofold for herself; lust whets her avarice, he – the sole object of her hunger. Chevalier positions himself between her legs and she hooks them behind his back, attempting to pull him closer, but… it occurs to him just how stiff her hips are. He clicks his tongue.

Liar.

Liar, although an honest one.

He pulls back from her. Esther cannot seem to comprehend why. She attempts to protest against his decision, attempts to chase after him and anchor him to herself, but the clumsiness of her movements only solidifies his judgement. It takes perhaps seconds; he reaches for a pillow, throws it towards the middle of the bed, and flips Esther onto it, to lay her on her stomach. Chevalier kneels over her legs.

“Cheva –” she’s meant to inquire, his name melting into a moan as he thrusts into her. Esther writhes below him, but does nothing to escape his relentless attention, even her arms refusing to support her weight. Utterly helpless, she grasps at the sheets and her knuckles turn white, whiter still the deeper their bodies join. Her back aches to arch.

Chevalier’s lips grow pale from how hard he purses them. His face is strung, thin layer of sweat covering his brow. He cannot stop now. No matter what, he cannot stop; not when his body demands he ceases to breathe for the sake of its own momentary bliss, not when he himself is too weak to refuse the relief. He strokes himself faster, faster, firmer —

— but he does know what he is searching for, he —

His fingers tangle in her hair, tame it to then leave it resting over her shoulder and expose the nape of her neck. Chevalier leans forward, his weight pressing her into the mattress. Esther groans when he bites her ear and —

She sees him in the mirror, exactly as he has been seeing them. He holds her gaze, smug against her surprise, any initial embarrassment she has felt giving way to lust. Esther dares not look away. Not even when her core begins to spasm.

His body jerks as lightning runs across his spine. Chevalier grunts, his hips jolting to aid his hand, his movements becoming all the more erratic. He is there, almost there, almost… He lets the image of her searing gaze burn the last of his reason away. His seed spills over his stomach.

In a few breaths, he will be able to think again. That, however, is of little importance.

***

Enough time has passed for the air of his bedroom to begin settling down. Nevertheless, they still stay as they were, hand in hand and fingers entwined. His weight holds her down, but Esther doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, it is almost as if she preferred this state of affairs. A crease forms between her brows when Chevalier pulls away from her, even if just to feather kisses over her shoulder.

“Give me a moment. It’ll spill out,” she mumbles out, his lips pressing against the side of her neck, cheek, temple.

“Am I not crushing you?”

“I like it.”

Perhaps he can stay a little longer then. Mildly unsure of what exactly he should do, he just allows himself to rest against her body. Esther hums in contentment. She squeezes his hand.

“The towel…?”

“On the bedside table.”

Esther nods in reply. “And…”

“Yes.” That is what the mirror is for. The reason for anything else she can figure out on her own.

You've seen a typo? Please, tell me!

Tag List is disabled for suggestive content and smut.

I personally don’t feel comfortable tagging people under the occasional suggestive / smut stories I write. I hope you understand.

#chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series #ikepri oc #ikepri x oc #chevalier x oc #ikepri esther

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violettduchess · 2 months

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Welcome to the Sunshine and Starlight Content Creation Masterlist ☀🌙

A huge thank you from @lorei-writes and myself for all the wonderful entries! These challenges only succeed if people create for them and it's gratifying as a host and even more as a fan to see how many creations were entered!

Ikemen Prince

Beneath the Silver Glow - @ikeprinces-stuff (Male OC x Reader)

Colors of Sunrise - @violettduchess (OC Leyla x Silvio)

Overheard [Transcribed] -@lorei-writes (OC Viva x Leon)

Symphony of the Sky -@ikeprinces-stuff (OC x Leon)

Luloj, luloj...-@lorei-writes (OC Esther x Chevalier)

New Dawn -@fang-and-feather (OC Maeve x Keith)

Surprise Confessions -@inkys-garden (Male OC x Reader)

String of a Long-Forgotten Melody -@ikeprinces-stuff (OC Romarin x Leon)

Lunar Phase -@kaizoku-musume (OC Aurelia x Yves)

Lullaby -@violettduchess (Chevalier x Reader)

A Taste of Bittersweet Memories -@venulus (OC Lorenzo x Leon)

Bonfire Night -@moonstruck-writing (Luke x Reader)

At Midnight -@lorei-writes (OC Esther x Chevalier)

Constellations -@dododrawsstuff (OC Melinda x Chevalier)

Festival at Night -@violettduchess (Headcanons: Cyran, Matthias, Clavis and Chevalier)

Ikemen Sengoku

Ambitious Plans - @queengiuliettafirstlady (OC Juliet x Nobunaga)

Festival Memories -@eventinelysplayground (Yukimora x MC)

Sweet Kisses of Love -@queengiuliettafirstlady (OC Juliet x Kenyo)

Magical Charms Under the Moon -@queengiuliettafirstlady (OC Juliet x Kicho)

Sweet Delights at Dawn -@queengiuliettafirstlady (Kicho x MC)

The Goddess of Dragon and Demon (NSFW) -@afi-writes (Nobunaga x Reader x Masamune)

Glow of the Moon -@otomefoxystar (Ieyasu x Reader)

Ikemen Vampire

Constellations - @violettduchess (Arthur x Reader)

Across Time -@eventinelysplayground (Arthur x MC)

Late Night Tryst -@violettduchess (Faust x Reader)

A Dance of Colors -@eventinelysplayground (Faust x MC)

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #sunshineandstarlightcc #see you for the next challenge 😉

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lorei-writes · 14 days

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Tutorial

Chevalier x OC (OC Chart: Esther) NSFW / Smut-adjacent Word Count: ~1.5k (total; ~300-450 words/part)

This is one of those works that I don't know how to tag. Generally speaking, it does touch the topic of sex, but... as much as it is definitely what is happening or what is being talked about, it isn't where the focus lies. It's a couple snapshots of their relationship, a couple glances at Esther and Chevalier as they're figuring out intimacy.

“You’re not enjoying it, are you?” she asked and he held her gaze. Something wavered in his eyes. “But…” Esther trailed off as his fingers combed through her hair. Silence enveloped them like a blanket, comfortable despite the words that still refused to be spoken out loud; their resistance hardly mattered, however. She was patient. They had time.

Esther looked up from her place between Chevalier’s legs, dim candlelight softly embracing her features, falling into the slightest creases formed over her brow. Exposed to the evening air and slick with her saliva, his shaft twitched as her lips parted from it with a kiss. Esther sat back on her heels, the lush carpet muffling the cold of the stone floor underneath.

“The act itself is pleasurable,” Chevalier admitted after a couple of breaths. “You, knelt before me, are simply not a pleasant sight.”

Her eyes opened wide, a budding understanding shimmering in those dark irises as she stood up. Esther swept her hair aside and locks tumbled over her back, unveiling the freckles scattered over her skin. The mattress dipped as she sat down beside Chevalier.

“It didn’t hurt.” His arm circled around her waist. “But… If you wanted to continue… We could always lie down?” she whispered, the fingers hooked below her chin preventing her from looking away even as her cheeks tinted pink. Chevalier scrutinised her down from the very tips of her toes, inquiring as he became aware of her reddened knees and soothed only by the persistent softness that marked the contours of her body; his gaze settled on her lips. Esther hummed as he kissed her, his tongue seeking hers with the fervent urgency she’d come to expect and love. Chevalier claimed her breath, any of her breaths… And left her gasping for more.

“Only if I have access to you as well.”

Esther only laughed as they fell over the sheets.

His lips followed a trail up the inner side of her thigh, branding yet delicate as they soothed the marks left over her skin. Esther shivered, half-hoping or half-expecting Chevalier to pull back and cease his teasing. His fingers stroked her mound, dipped into her folds just briefly, parted her… and he just watched. Intently.

Esther propped herself on her elbows. “Chevalier…?”

His head lowered slowly, his eyes meeting hers briefly as hot breath spilled over her sex. A glint lit up in his irises, sudden like a spark born from a piece of flint.

“What are you —” Words morphed into a chocked-down gasp as Chevalier flicked her sensitive spot with his tongue. Esther hid her mouth behind her palm. Furious flush coloured her cheeks to then spill down her neck, her eyes seeing yet not quite comprehending the sight. Another pleasurable tremor shook her from within the pit of her stomach, forcing her to lie back down. Chevalier hoisted her thigh over his shoulder, grabbed her hips, dragged her even closer… did things she had no name for.

A short eternity passed; the microcosmos of her body built up to its climax and came undone. Esther forgot herself, or forgot about even being, and her hips buckled, caught by strong arms as she shuddered, and trembled, and — And she and her dazed mind did not know what to think when Chevalier sat down beside her. She wanted to lean into his embrace, to protest against it, against him, against what he’s done. To ask for more. To scold him for doing something so – so – so —

His lips pressed against hers as his fingers combed through her hair. Tenderness gave way to hunger, however, his arm flexing around her waist as he deepened the kiss. Esther had her thoughts stolen away again. It was only the warmth around her, the thudding of her heart, the faint aroma of roses mixed with the scent of… her.

Chevalier touched his forehead to hers. “I’ve got nothing to complain about. Do you?”

“No, I — No. No,” she replied, a little too fervently, and Chevalier chuckled at her. Smug, so very smug… And she, worst of all, wanted to kiss those smug lips again…

“I… can’t get pregnant anytime?”

“Indeed.”

No further explanation.

His arms withdrew their warmth, let go of her, bared and all the more aware of the state of her undress as she lay among the sheets.

There were many things that Esther didn’t know, some of them more and some of them less obvious. The education she received – or much rather, lack thereof – left her disillusioned on the topic: for one to be aware, one would have to have been taught. She thought herself capable of accepting as much and of learning freely, if not vehemently, to make up for the lost time. It was objective, not personal, and should not have hurt... Yet she still could not deny the painful throb in her chest. The previously caressed places turned cold and her heart sunk as Chevalier sat at the edge of the bed, eyes searching for something in the dimly lit bedroom. The time, as thick as molasses, barely flowed.

Esther watched as Chevalier strode towards one of the bookcases. Shadows washed over his shoulders, spilled down the nape of his neck, his spine, dripped from his muscular legs. A wayward draught ruffled the overzealous candle flame, perhaps attempting to raise goosebumps over his skin as well… Chevalier, however, remained indifferent. He reached for one of the titles displayed on the shelf, deft hands soon browsing through the pages to finally arrive at the sought-for chapter. His eyes raised from the text.

It was perhaps a breath, perhaps two breaths, and he’d returned to the bed. Esther stared, rather dumbfounded, as he passed the book to her, the edges of its leather cover pressing into her thigh. A thick tome, it was much heavier than she initially expected, worm-like letters marking its fragile pages along a set of illustrations.

“Chapters seven to nine discuss the human reproductive system, although it isn’t until chapter eleven that the foetus development is discussed,” Chevalier explained, leafing through the pages. “The medical jargon tends to be purposefully abstruse.” His hands covered hers, some of his warmth returning to her body as he focused on her. Esther met his gaze. “If anything is unclear, ask me.”

Chevalier closed the book for her. She would learn, but not then, not when it was most important that he held her and soothed her concerns.

The meaning of sentences contained within the pages evaded Chevalier yet once again. It was a rather new occurrence… and one, ironically, prompted by nothing else but silence. His attention turned towards the flickering candle flame to then drift to the woman sitting by his side. Esther furrowed her brow, studiously focused on the book sitting in her lap. The paper did not rustle, however. Her eyes remained fixed on a single line of text, oddly insistent on unravelling its meaning without any assistance. Chevalier sighed.

The poke delivered to her forehead had Esther straighten her back. Mildly startled, she glanced around the room to eventually notice Chevalier’s unamused expression.

“And what have I told you?” he complained and took the book from her hands. “Which line was it?”

Esther shook her head. “It isn’t that I didn’t understand something. It’s just wrong.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow rose. “That’s quite some confidence.”

The temperature in their bedroom dropped. Words caught in Chevalier’s throat as he stared at Esther, both certain that it was her and unable to believe in as much. There was no warmth in her features, no gentleness, no —

“The paragraph about the clitoris.”

He didn’t need to read in order to know what it said. The clitoris is an immature organ that serves no practical function in adult women. Its removal may be advised in certain cases of prolonged treatment-resistant hysteria.

Chevalier closed the anatomy book.

“I do not need to know exactly how my body works to know that it does something, Chevalier.”

He had to do something to alter the atmosphere. “What does it do then?”

Her glare faltered, traces of the familiar softness returning to her eyes as Esther looked away, her anger dimming on behalf of… bashfulness? Chevalier put his hand on top of her knee and stroked her leg.

“It feels good when you touch it,” she explained. “So to forget about that and call it useless or immature instead… or to say that is has to do with hysteria… I don’t think any of that is true.”

The right words evaded him, but remaining silent was hardly an alternative; it was suffocating, the air turning as thick as the wax flowing down the side of the candle. Chevalier reached to hold Esther’s face, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he urged her to look at him. Anger melted out of her body, some residual uncertainty still flickering in her mellow dark eyes. She leaned into his touch.

“Show me,” Chevalier said, too proud to ask her to teach him. Nevertheless, Esther understood, and she kissed him, and he kissed her, and she guided his hand… and then he studied her body, over and over again…

Various Works: Esther x Chevalier

You’ve seen a typo? Let me know!

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @starlitmanor-network @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather

@tele86 @rinaririr @keithsandwich @cheese-ception @claviscollections

@queengiuliettafirstlady @sh0jun @lucyw260 @solacedeer @bicayaya

@faustianfascination @queengiuliettafirstlady

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

#chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series #ikepri oc #ikemen prince oc #ikepri esther

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lorei-writes · 3 months

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At Midnight

Chevalier x OC (OC Chart: Esther) Suggestive ~550 words Prompts: Midnight Sun + Full Moon + Festival After the Dark + Late Night Tryst + Constellations

Double entry for Sunshine & Starlight CC hosted by @violettduchess and myself... and a little something to celebrate the International Kissing Day >:) I wanted to touch as many prompts as I could with it.

Also, @wordycheeseblob , thank you for help with the art <3

Content Warnings: none

Full moon hangs on the faraway sky, excluded from the panconsuming void of a fledgling micro-cosmos. It shines, and it flickers, and it fades, hidden safely among the hushed haze of whispers. Brambles rattle, each blackberry a piece of obsidian hidden among jades. “Chevalier, we really shouldn’t.” “You’ve grown tired of the festival as well.”

“Chevalier, we really shouldn’t.”

“You’ve grown tired of the festival as well.”

The path narrows to disappear, lost somewhere among the swaying grass. Black darkness churns within three hollows, unsure branches huddling to obscure the stars, concealing that which should not be witnessed by the eternal eyes. Esther shudders, cold bark pressing against her back.

“Cheva —”

Her voice melts into a mewl, smelted by his very lips. Thorny scent of roses pricking her senses, Esther holds onto his coat, knuckles paling as nails struggle to fray the precious wool. Perhaps she could steal away a button if she set her mind to it; alas, too little of it remains unoccupied. It is just Chevalier and his lips and the steady comfort of his arms, the roughness of his hand where it cups her cheek. His fingers press into her side. Closer, closer still, for as long as their breath lasts…

But not a moment longer.

“You could have let me finished,” Esther complains after a pause, so quietly he can barely hear it. Their foreheads touch and Chevalier smirks. She can almost feel it on her skin.

“Unnecessary. I knew what you’d say.”

“And?”

He kisses her again, deeper now. Firmer. Voracious… Starved, starving, causing starvation, as humanely flawed as to require her to quench his thirst. Esther drags him into a nebula of need, the clasps of his cloak coming undone at her hands. It spreads over the ground and he has her fall, she the sole star he would ever entrust with his desires. Their garments are but stardust, but zodiacal light, so inconsequential neither of them realises when they scatter into the surrounding nothingness of a world.

Scalded, Chevalier grunts. Nightly dew vaporises off his skin, every of her gasps a budding supernova. Her fingertips brand him gently as they slide along his neck, and he leans down to kiss her, utterly blinded despite the dark. Esther burns at midnight, the sun, his sun…

***

Planetary bodies returned to flesh, thoughtful ululating of a long-eared owl has unsealed their universe. Esther sighs against Chevalier’s neck, a stray gust sowing goosebumps over her skin. It has tired of its blaze, what once branded now being defenceless against the elements, and he turns onto his side to be her shield again. A giggle whispers itself into what little space has remained between them.

“Please tell me you know where our clothes are. I can’t see anything,” Esther continues to laugh, her shoulders shaking as she nuzzles into his chest. Her curls tickle his chin.

“Who do you take me for?”

“Just making sure.”

Neither of them moves. Neither wants to. It is still too early, or perhaps it is too late… Too cold, too warm for them to separate… And the ground is too hard, so hard that comfort should not be disturbed… Yet it is also too fleeting, too impermanent. Esther sits up once the glow dims.

“Once we’re back at the embassy, we’ll have to check each other for ticks.”

Chevalier is more worried about her hair, or the leaves and twigs he’ll have to pick out of it before they can re-enter the light. Her remark, that he takes as a promise. He’ll be looking forward to that.

Various Works: Esther x Chevalier

You’ve seen a typo? Let me know!

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @starlitmanor-network @solacedeer @keithsandwich @bicayaya

@faustianfascination @sh0jun @m-mmiy @violettduchess @pathogenic

@fang-and-feather @tele86 @rinaririr @cheese-ception @bis-enti

@claviscollections @queengiuliettafirstlady @lucyw260

Tell me if you’d like to be added to my tag list :)

#sunshineandstarlightcc #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series #ikepri oc #ikepri esther #ikemen prince oc

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lorei-writes · 11 days

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Help Un-Wanted

Impromptu whatever-this-is; Chevalier x Esther (OC); Gen Fic; focused on Chevalier & Clavis; illness & medicine

Clavis... He doesn't "like" or "love" Chevalier. He most definitely doesn't "appreciate" him either. It'd be a stretch to say that he "tolerates" him, never mind any "acceptance". For all intents and purposes, his insufferable older brother is an unavoidable annoyance, or -- at times -- a necessary evil. Clavis wants nothing to do with Chevalier or his repulsive, inhumane ruthlessness. Clavis wants nothing to do with his heartlessness, with his foolish, blind genius... He wants nothing... And yet, first thing in the morning, he opens his door for his brother again. (Which is to say, he doesn't complain when Chevalier invites himself over unannounced. Details.)

A notebook is placed on top of Clavis' desk. He reaches for it, but he hardly needs to peer into the pages to know what's been written inside.

"No change?" he asks, a frown cutting across his brow at the silent non-reply.

"I don't think it would be safe to increase the dosage any further. The results hardly justify the strain on her kidneys."

Clavis nods. It isn't often that they are in agreement, but he can hardly argue against the reality. His gaze floats between the pieces of apparatus scattered across his room -- a test tube here, a volumetric flask there, vials sitting by the burner... Does any of his pipettes hold the answer? Clavis can only wonder.

"I hate to say it, but it seems we should focus on preventing malnourishment instead," he suggests.

Nothing has changed in Chevalier's expression, and yet everything did. The air around him grows heavy as he stares ahead, clearly considering something, or battling a certain possibility in his thoughts. The morning light has turned his pale complexion even paler, washed over the dark shadows shyly framing his eyes. Clavis purses his lips.

"Think of something for pain relief."

What in the...?

"You know that it makes her symptoms worse."

"We have confirmed that for oral medication only. Get the solution and I'll inject her."

A shudder runs down Clavis' spine and he winces against himself. Perhaps it will leave his hair rather dishevelled, but he still runs his hand through it, as if to smooth over his discomfort. Indeed, he can do as much... And Chevalier clearly can work with a syringe... But...

"I'll get one of the palace physicians to do that," Clavis sighs.

Chevalier scowls at him, his displeasure palpable as it floods and twists his features. "Don't think you can postpone it."

"I don't," Clavis argues, "I just don't think you can do it. Not when it's Esther."

The room is perfectly silent for but a breath. Not a moment longer.

"What drivel..." A derisive laugh falls from Chevalier's lips, cruel and mocking, although Clavis cannot quite tell who it is directed at. His brother's cape flutters, the doorknob turns. He's alone again.

Clavis opens the notebook.

"He's really changed."

Neat handwriting fills the pages before him to the very brim, each log line describing a different occurrence or observation. Clavis gets to work.

#chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen prince chevalier #clavis lelouch #ikepri clavis #ikemen prince clavis #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri oc #ikemen prince oc #ikepri esther

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lorei-writes · 3 months

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My Sunshine, My Starlight... Why?

Chevalier x OC (OC Chart: Esther) Esther's POV Comfort ~1.7k

Truth be told, when writing about illness, I tend to hold back. It's ugly. It's disgusting. I know the realities of dealing with it, and well, one of them is that people often would rather do anything other than seeing it, let alone be around it. Sometimes you just... wind up being discarded because of it. Happens. Prose of life.

This is utterly self-indulgent, the dearest fantasy. @venulus thank you for hosting this event (it is already July 1st in my time zone >:) ). Otherwise... Well, it'd always stay just inside of my head.

This works contains graphic descriptions of illness.

Our Father, Who is in heaven, hallowed be Your name. May Your Kingdom come. May Your will be realised. As in heaven, may it be on earth… ...And do not tempt us, but have us delivered from evil… … Father, may I take a little longer? I know I’ve asked You for plenty tonight and I do trust Your plan. I don’t need to understand it, but this time I am so afraid… Why does it have to happen now? You have never given me a cross I could not carry, yet this one is extremely heavy. Heavier than any before. And I am scared, Father, I am so pitifully scared of losing things I’ve gained. Father, I beg you, grant me the courage to see what is to come.

Our Father, Who is in heaven, hallowed be Your name. May Your Kingdom come. May Your will be realised. As in heaven, may it be on earth… ...And do not tempt us, but have us delivered from evil…

… Father, may I take a little longer? I know I’ve asked You for plenty tonight and I do trust Your plan. I don’t need to understand it, but this time I am so afraid… Why does it have to happen now? You have never given me a cross I could not carry, yet this one is extremely heavy. Heavier than any before. And I am scared, Father, I am so pitifully scared of losing things I’ve gained. Father, I beg you, grant me the courage to see what is to come.

Black night greys into a dawn as I drag myself out of the bathroom. I’ve had to do without a candle, but it is nothing. Flame still trembles over the wick where I left it on the table, like a cat fretting about wetting its paws in water-wax. What matters is that I’ve made it this time, and do not need to clean bloody diarrhoea off anything, including myself. I can just crawl between the covers and hope my gut has settled for now. I haven’t closed my eyes once. How can I be so tired? It’s only been a week so far… How did I make it in the past…

My bed is cold. I am cold. The pillows lie stacked against the headboard and I lean against them, press my face into the smooth satin and the soft down it contains. That’s somewhat soothing, as is the duvet and the woollen blankets, even if they hardly help my chills. I pull them higher still, bury my nose in the border of crocheted periwinkle saffrons. I know I should just get up, that I should just add to the hearth. The low buzzing of burning wood has long died down, the log I dropped still lying right outside the metal doors, as if to remind me that Vivochka will not come pick it up… Good. Thankfully, she’s free at last. This now is bound to end eventually, so I just close my eyes.

…

Clack.

…

Clack. Clack.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Sharp steps drop in the corridor, so familiar that my heart raises to my throat. I remain in my place, however, listen in as the doorknob clicks and turns. No, no, that is wrong — and so is the faint scent of roses, and so is the sighing metal and the dull scraping of the poker and the content purring that heats up the tiled heater once more. Chevalier… Chevka, my Chevka, why? Why are you home? I’ve thought I still had time.

The carpet eats the clacking of his shoes, and soon enough the mattress dips where he sits down, the frame sighing quietly. I cannot see him yet and I do not want to look. It is almost as if we were in the gazebo now, the warmth radiating from Chevalier replacing the sun. His hand strokes my cheek and he brushes his thumb against the corner of my eye, delicate to the point of hardly being there, as if he worried his callouses could grate away at my skin. It makes me want to laugh and weep at once. There’s no need to worry, I am not fragile, I —

“You haven’t slept,” Chevka states, as matter-of-fact as ever.

“I took a nap.”

I wouldn’t be convinced and neither is he; Chevalier pokes my forehead, so I finally dare look at him. He’s figured me out, hasn’t he? Not that I could hide anything… But that doesn’t matter. Dark circles frame Chevka’s eyes, tiredness dulling their brilliant blue. His lips look a little dry, a little pale, and he purses them too hard, and his jaw is set as firmly as if it was stone, his broad shoulders resembling more so granite than flesh. No… No, no, no, no. No.

“I thought you would be back at the end of the week.” My sunshine, what have you done?

“I’ve just returned. Marquisate wasn’t as ill-maintained as usual.”

My starlight, how hard have you worked?

I feel cold again when he lets go. However, I’m hardly happy when Chevka scoots into the space behind me and wraps me in his arms. It is warm, it is comforting, it is all I wanted… He is clumsy in his tenderness and so very calculated, as if it was a flower he was handling and not a person, and when his lips brush against the nape of my neck I near forget myself and cry. I am so selfish. I should tell him to go, to get proper rest, but I cling to his arm all the harder, praying that my stomach will not hurt and I will not keep him awake. And if I do… Let me make it in time. I am disgusted with myself as is.

***

It starts with a stab to my side, but there is no blood, not outwardly. I don’t fully know where I am, but I know that it hurts, that it wants to get out of me. It grates at my insides and they writhe, and each second I run I clench my buttocks hard. Harder. There’s no moment to spare. No moment to even realise where I am. Was I in bed? Now it is cold tiles and porcelain pressed to my skin, and it hurts. It hurts. It hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts. But I am there. My throat gurgles against me. It gasps and it groans. My back folds, it constricts, as does every muscle that’s been taken from under my control. I am a clump of clay moulded in somebody’s hands. And it falls. Relief comes drenched in cold sweat, hideous and sticky and reeking of blood. I want it still. I want it to last… I need a fresh chemise. I can only feel it now, but I am cold.

A moment or a few need to pass before I am able to get up, sunlight streaming into the bathroom through the small round window. It illuminates the tub, still wet after I’ve used it last. I shake my head, drag my heavy legs towards it… It is not much effort, it should not be much effort… and it so much more bearable once clothes do not cling to my back quite so tightly. The only issue is, now I have to go back.

Thick silence hangs in my room like a fog concealing a deceitful bog or another swampland. The oaken floor is more so a rickety bridge between the bathroom and the safety of the carpet, and it seems awfully loud now that Chevalier also is in the room. My knees shake as I move from one unsteady board to the other, some dizziness buzzing in my ears with persistence of a horsefly. It’d be easier if I could rush… However, it’d alert Chevka, and that’s the last thing I’d want. The bed is almost there, just outside the reach of my arms, just close enough for me to tumble into it before my heart bursts. My ribs tremble from strain.

But I don’t. I’m still standing. And I watch.

Chevka sleeps like a kitten with a belly full of milk; his chest raises slowly, evenly, not a stormy thought clouding his brow. His hair could be a proper pheasant nest, save for the missing chicks, and he hugs one corner of the duvet that he has hogged once I was gone. Bright against white covers, Chevka almost disappears, as if designed perfectly for the purpose of avoiding anybody who may wake him up. Who could blame him? Sleep, my prince, my dearest stars… Light shines through the gap in the curtains, a stray ray tickling his nose. Chevalier scrunches it up and his eyelashes twitch. Before I even manage to react, the skies hidden underneath his eyelids are revealed.

I am pulled down, dragged into the sheets and then trapped within his arms.

“Are you bleeding?”

This isn’t how I want our mornings to start.

“Only a little.”

Please, let me be.

“You’ve lost weight.”

It’s nothing! It’s nothing… It’s… I promise…

“It’s nothing.”

I’d rather walk barefoot over glass than let you worry. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it. I fear the time you finally see it.

Chevalier puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me away. His eyes bore into me as he strokes my cheek, his fingers then sliding into my hair… and no further. His surprise hurts.

I haven’t washed it in days.

I haven’t even combed it.

Dirty. Hideous. What a tangled mess…

I force a smile. “Ha…Haha. It’s impractical, I know… I’ll cut it short. It’ll be easier to manage.”

Something snaps, or perhaps it is just the air. Chevalier withdraws his hand.

“Sit up.”

I do. With my back towards the room, I at least do not have to watch his face. I imagine the disappointment. I was stupid to think I could measure up. I was stupid to think it’d be any different now. I am still just a burden. I still can’t take care of myself. I will only weigh him down… And yet… Chevka has taken a brush… and the almond oil… and…

…

By the time he is done braiding my hair I can barely hold back my tears. I just turn, fall into his chest, and wail. Chevka sighs, his arms closing around me at once.

“You are such a simpleton sometimes.”

And you’re a shoe off the left leg* when it comes to speaking your mind. Cholera**…

“Tell me when you need me. There is nothing I cannot carry.”

I suppose that makes us a pair.

*shoe off the left leg – Amberian idiom; to be dumb like a shoe off the left leg; to be stupid about something

** cholera – Amberian swear word; equivalent to “damn it”

Various Works: Esther x Chevalier

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lorei-writes · 2 months

Text

Linen Topography

Chevalier x OC (OC Chart: Esther) (Fluffy) Smut Word Count: ~1.4k

A little something sweet, tender and romantic. Because I love them so ;-; @keithsandwich thank you for being such a huge source of support -- while writing this, but also just overall. I don't think I could thank you enough for that.

Contents: morning sex; marking, vaginal intercourse

Soft light streamed into the room, just lukewarm despite its duty to dispel the tired nightly cool. Dressed in translucent gold, it draped itself over the floor, slowly creeping its way towards the bed and its endless topography of sheets. Tremors spread through linen plains, silently echoed in valleys and rumbled lowly through the satin hills, prompted by the even breathing of the tectonic bodies still hidden underneath. Sleep thinned, now barely a mist.

A muffled murmur rose above the bed. Esther scrunched up her nose, and although reluctantly, opened her eyes. A few wayward locks fell over her forehead, freed from the ruthless constraints of her braid, another handful tugging at the ribbon keeping them bound. None the wiser about their plans, Esther nuzzled into the duvet as an arm flexed around her waist to then pull her back. A familiar weight pressed up against her. Lured into the sway of dazing dreams, Esther let out a contended sigh, rocked only further by the steady heartbeat flowing into her wherever their bodies touched.

“Chevka…” she murmured, only half-awake yet fully aware that the sun had woken up. Freckles rode up her nose as she frowned, new ravines forming among the sheets… to crumble or close up completely as that dreadful, beloved arm reached for her and thwarted any of her plans to leave. Just alert enough to operate on instinct, Chevalier grumbled out a quiet complaint, his embrace tightening to then deceptively ease up. Esther turned around while still in his arms.

Dishevelled as a man can be after a restful night, Chevalier slept, not a crease marking his brow. Long lashes cast shadows over his porcelain skin, his lips parted just slightly; it was only his hair that was unruly, a few strands clinging to his profile. Esther held her breath. Her hand trembled lightly as she combed back his fringe, smoothed it, the very tips of her fingers brushing against the shell of his ear. Chevalier scowled in response. His arm twitched, hand venturing to the small of her back, her chemise creasing as he held her. And Esther? She laughed meekly, so very quietly, only to herself. What was she supposed to do with him… Oh, what stubbornness…

Her lips fell over his temple.

Her lips fell over his cheek.

Her lips fell over his eyelids, forehead, the sharp corner of his jaw, the space squarely between his brows, all until Chevalier could not decide whether to complain or praise her and opened his eyes. Hazy with sleep, they bore into her, ignited at once… closed, definitely and decisively, unwilling to hear even a word of protest. Chevalier nuzzled against her chest, teeth undoing the tie at the front of her chemise. Newly emerged roses pricked her collarbones, followed shortly by the soothing softness of his lips, his hand stroking her side to then caress her breast. Esther gasped as Chevalier rolled his thumb over her nipple, thin linen hardly shielding her from the heat of his skin.

He tugged at her neckline.

The seams strained.

Esther gasped again, exposed and scalded by his breath. And he kissed and he marked however he saw fit, a tiger toying with his prey. In a state of starvation, begging to be devoured, she held him closer still, nails grazing his scalp. Chevalier did not protest, too entranced with the cacophony of need rumbling through her chest. Creases formed over her undergarment where he grabbed her hip, too lost in the moment to consider his own strength. Esther whimpered and reached to pull at his shirt, to rush him. To beg. She needed him, naked skin to naked skin, needed to feel him inside of her —

Esther shuddered as Chevalier kissed a path down her sternum. Fabric stood in his way, and so he drew back, eyebrows furrowed with harsh displeasure. And she waited. She waited, waited with faithful and absolute anticipation, too preoccupied with the workings of his hands to bother with drawing in any trivial breath. The moment never came, however. Chevalier blinked, a devious smirk tugging at his lips before he nuzzled into her again. His arm snuck around her waist, their legs entangled, and it was only Esther’s heart that could not compose itself.

“Chevalier…?” she whispered despite the dryness in her throat. No reply. “Chevalier?”

Chevalier murmured something rather incomprehensible, something between a “later” and “that is enough for now”. Disbelief filled her eyes as Esther stared at him, so comfortably snuggled against a love bite he had just left. Chevalier had fallen asleep and showed no signs of being inclined to let her go.

***

The world swayed gently, rocked by steady breathing and enveloped in hazy warmth. Esther turned onto her side, a wave rolling through the bed to then follow after her, an arm wrapping itself around her waist to anchor her in place. She mumbled an inquiry, hard body pressed up against hers. Chevalier sighed. Close, so close, so close again…

The world faded in and out of focus as calloused fingers stroked the palm of her hand. Esther arched her back, a muffled groan spilling behind her as something hard pressed between her buttocks. The gentle caresses paused to gauge her intention, perhaps unsure of whether she understood the full extent of the effect she had on him. Another choked-down groan churned. Chevalier hid his face in her curls, his hips grinding against hers as she pushed against him with more certainty.

“Esther…”

Goosebumps raised over her skin as his voice washed over her exposed shoulder. Her eyes opened, and the sheets shifted, and he stroked her side, greedy hand cupping her breast. Still clearly insistent on whetting his desire, Esther leaned into his touch.

“Do you…?” she asked, although she did not have to.

His lips fell over her neck.

His lips fell over her nape.

His lips fell over her shoulder, every sweet freckle, every bit of dearly beloved skin he could reach, spurred only further by each tremor returned to him. Esther gasped, his body pressed tightly against hers and his need becoming all the more apparent. Expectant shivers scattered over her legs, the very tips of his fingers gliding up her thigh to then hook below the hem of her chemise, smooth linen sliding up so slowly the time itself could freeze.

His teeth closed around the shell of her ear, taunting the needy thunder coiling in the pit of her stomach. Esther reached behind herself, only one thought in her mind. The sheets trembled. Chevalier acted before she could, freed his legs from the constraint of his nightclothes, returned to her at once. Her nails grazed the skin below his navel, but he disregarded it, dragged her closer by the hips… Sunk into her, as deep as their bodies allowed yet not nearly deep enough. Her mewl clashed against his groan, and Esther squirmed, stilled as his arms embraced her and their fingers entwined. His hair tickled the nape of her neck, strained breath spilling over the plains between her shoulder blades, painfully delicate lips marring her composure with still dreadfully innocent affection. At a loss for words, for reason, Esther rocked herself onto him, needy warmth crashing against the firm rigidity of his muscles. Chevalier remained unmoved.

“Don’t tease me...” she pleaded, eyes half-lidded and still heavy with sleep. “I want more… Chevka, I want more of you…”

He couldn’t refuse her. Not when her skin flushed wherever he touched her, when the dishevelled chemise struggled to maintain what little remained of her modesty… Not when her moans took on a honey-sweet quality, when her body nestled against him so perfectly, and her thumb stroked his palm with such tenderness. The scent of lilac tickled his nose together with her hair, little remaining of the once tyrannical reign of the braid. Chevalier brushed the curls back, nuzzled against her neck. Time collapsed, stagnant yet flowing, just barely a woven cocoon padded with their muted pleasures and brimming with their gasps. Esther grasped his arm, and he understood, he understood…

White linen plains elevated into mountains, ravines crumbling as the sheets got cast away. Esther sat up briefly, the chemise sliding off her shoulder to soon be discarded completely. Chevalier pulled off his shirt, and she ran her hands over his broad shoulders, and he kissed her, and they fell —

It was only the comfort of his skin, the softness of his lips, the sway of their bodies as they joined again. It was the familiarity of his touch, the well-known curves of her body. Just them and nothing more, as nothing more was necessary.

You’ve seen a typo? Please, tell me!

Tag List is disabled for suggestive content and smut.

I don’t feel comfortable tagging people under the occasional suggestive / smut stories I write. I hope you understand.

#chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series #ikepri esther #ikepri oc #ikemen prince oc

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lorei-writes · 3 months

Text

Luloj, luloj...

Chevalier x OC (OC Chart: Esther) Family Fluff ~1.9k Prompts: Lullaby

Another entry for my and @violettduchess 's Sunshine & Starlight CC... and my part of a certain promise >:)

Italicised whole dialogue lines = Amberian

Content Warnings: food

“Yes.” Chevalier swallowed any protesting reason – the logic did not matter. The outcome would have to suffice. “I didn’t eat enough carrots, and now it is really hard to smile.”

The carriage shook under the weight of a trunk, two burly men hauling it up on their shoulders to then secure it in place at the rear of the vehicle, iron buckles straining alongside leather straps. Made impatient by the early hour, horses scraped the ground with their hooves, perhaps asking the gravel what change had occurred in their plans this time. The gravel didn’t know, however, for it all seemingly happened at once – first the moon brought over a human messenger, and the very next second a hell of hectic “I must go”s broke loose, suitcases becoming something of an inverted Pandora’s boxes, thematically filling up with appropriate personal belongings. Why some were left behind, or remained open, that was beyond gravel’s comprehension. It wouldn’t mean to pry either way… Although it would not mind overhearing a thing or two.

The step to the carriage croaked, four boots in two sizes stepping over it in brief succession, and the door shut with a creak, a loose spring trembling somewhere in the handle. Esther dropped into her seat. Her cloak billowed briefly, fluttered to then settle over the emerald cushions. It must have been uncomfortable, however, for it had her jolt right up — or it would have liked to, had it not been for the steady hand that pushed down on her shoulder. An uneasy smile spread over Esther’s face.

“Ask,” Chevalier sighed. “Question me until you have calmed down.”

An apologetic crease emerged between her brows. “Are you sure it won’t interfere with your work?”

“Yes.”

“And that I can go?”

“Yes.”

“And that you can handle packing them for two months on your own?”

“Yes.” Chevalier pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Make sure Tete doesn’t leave his duck behind. And that Rosa eats her vegetables and doesn’t share them with Miss Cat, and that she doesn’t pack any meat in her suitcase. Or the cat. Or Bambi. Is Bambi coming with us? He has to, but then — And make sure to have a spare blanket, just in case, because —”

“Esther.” His voice cut through the stream of words before it became too turbulent to be stopped. “You can go help your sister. It is a non-issue.”

“But —”

“I am their father. We’ll join you in about two weeks.”

Her shoulders slumped, Esther hung her head low, dishevelled curls falling over her eyes. It was just a momentary change, however, a poke to her forehead immediately straightening her back. Chevalier cupped her cheek and Esther leaned into his touch, his thumb brushing against the corner of her eye.

“You’re tired,” he observed. “Sleep while in the carriage. The devils will keep you on your feet.”

“I know,” she murmured.

“You must not exhaust yourself.”

“I know…”

“Get Clavis or Black to discipline them if you feel ill. Do not neglect your meals. If anybody —”

“Chevka,” Esther whispered against his palm, her dark eyes turning towards him. “Two weeks. I will see you in two weeks, so I’ll be fine.”

The step croaked again, rather surprised at being awoken after but a short nap. Watched by the stern gravel, it refrained from any further complaints, instead just watching carefully as Chevalier marched up to the coach-box. His sharp commands craved away at the shadows until Lucien emerged from it, the sword at his hip dragging through the ground as he knelt. Tangible and alive, almost a golem with a purpose, he joined the carriage and soon they departed for the royal palace of Rhodolite, where the Queen of the nation had just had twins.

***

“Papa, I don’t want no carrot.” Auguste poked the detestable orange stick with his fork.

“It’s ‘I don’t want any carrots’. And you have to try it.” Chevalier unfurled a napkin…

“But I don’t wanna.”

… and intercepted a piece of a roasted chicken before it fell to the floor. He turned his attention towards Rosalie, his daughter glaring at him with the entirety of her five-years-old might. Blonde curls bounced around her head as she swayed in her chair, legs kicking under the table in clear discontent.

“Bambi’s hungry too,” she protested.

“Bambi has already been fed.”

“Mama said that families eat together and Bambi is a part of our family.”

The tablecloth lifted as the dog raised from his place. Years settled over his fur in frost made him all the wiser, and so he set his hoary head over Rosalie’s lap, casting pleading eyes towards her plate.

“Bambi,” Chevalier reprimanded.

“Papa, I really – really – really! Don’t want no carrot,” Auguste restated his appeal.

“He’s hungry, papa! Hungry!”

“Papa, carrots!”

“Come here, Bambi!”

The knife shrieked against porcelain, unusually undignified despite being wielded by the most precise of hands. His brow furrowed, Chevalier retreated into himself from the storm of carrots, pets, and meat-related complaints… All to surface rather promptly, with a foolproof plan right in his palm.

“Auguste, do you know why uncle Licht cannot smile?” He set the cutlery down, serious as stormy clouds herded over the clear blue of his eyes. Little Tete tilted his head to the side. “He’s never eaten his carrots. Not once. A certain royal scientist, Oliver, later discovered that consuming carrots in early childhood is essential for adults to retain the ability to smile.”

Auguste raised his eyebrows. Rosalie, on the other hand, dropped her fork. “Papa, is that why you rarely smile?”

“Yes.” Chevalier swallowed any protesting reason – the logic did not matter. The outcome would have to suffice. “I didn’t eat enough carrots, and now it is really hard to smile.”

Little Tete not only bit into his carrot – he barely chewed it, swallowing it and then a few more as fast as he could. Meanwhile, Rosalie…

“And Bambi, I reckon Bambi would like to ask you to eat your food,” Chevalier mused aloud. “He’s a polite dog. He wouldn’t refuse an offered piece… But he’d surely rather not. Dogs don’t particularly enjoy parsley.”

… brought her hands to cover her lips.

The food on his own plate had long gone cold by the time Chevalier was finally able to eat. Nevertheless, he could hardly complain, the empty vegetable dish reminding him of his – purely personal – victory. Carrots did taste almost saccharine, although not sweetly enough to override the subtle bitterness at the back of his tongue. Chevalier swallowed it, however, Bambi staring at him with the persistence only achievable for a pleading dog.

“No.”

Bambi lay down by his legs. Perhaps he too could not rid himself of that taste.

The day went on exactly as expected, and exactly as promised, Chevalier worked undisturbed. Coloured pencils there, dolls here, building blocks, dry leaves, paint, picture books and Miss Cat the Meowing, the inventory of pawns at his disposal had expanded ever since Rosalie was born, the battlegrounds taking on the guise of nurseries and playrooms. There was not a war Chevalier would lose, not against a foreign adversary, not against a political rival, and most definitely not against the whims of either of his offspring.

Some, however, he was willing to forfeit.

Quiet knocking tapped away at the surface of Chevalier’s dreams, ripples forming over the somnolent nothingness until it all but fell apart, more alarming than any steel whispers that had ever sounded in his chamber. Chevalier propped himself on his elbows at once, and the door pushed open, a shadow of a shadow darting inside. Armed in a pillow-shield and his trusty crocheted duck, little Tete leaped onto the bed, just narrowly avoiding the monsters surely lurking in the dark.

“Papa, can I sleep here?”

Was it not too late to ask? Chevalier patted the covers to his right. “Put your pillow by the headboard.”

The duvet jolted up to then promptly embrace them, Auguste curling against his father’s side, as safe as a chick huddling to a hen. Chevalier closed his eyes, savoured the momentary peace while also being all too aware it would not last; the knocking returned nearly immediately, this time louder, more insistent, almost forceful… classically impatient. Rosalie weaselled her way into the room and broke into the bed to latch onto the one arm Chevalier still had to spare.

“Rosalie.”

Silence. Rosalie disappeared within her burrow, a ferret or more so a polecat, barely the top of her head peeking from below the covers.

“Rosalie.”

“I didn’t ask, so you can’t say ‘no’.”

They could discuss that some other time. A beast tamed turned beast tamer, Chevalier dragged Rosalie out of her hiding, hugged her ruthlessly before she had the chance to protest. A mane of soft curls spilled over his shoulder as she surrendered, another tickling (and ticklish) attacker twisting and turning together with his pillow. The heel of Auguste’s foot dug into Chevalier’s thigh, and as if synchronously, as if by some plan, Rosalie kicked his knee. The yarn beak pecked at his neck. All complaints stifled, Chevalier kept his eyes closed. No, he would not be disturbed, he would not be affected, he —

“Papa, will Bambi go with us?” Rosalie squirmed, one of her locks falling dangerously close to his nose.

“Yes.”

“And Miss Cat?” Auguste rolled onto his back.

“No.”

“But why?” He shifted in his place again and grasped his father’s shirt with newly emerged determination.

“Miss Cat needs to take care of her letter, duh." Rosalie shook her head, as vigorously as to make it noticeable even in the dark.

“Litter. Take care of her litter,” Chevalier corrected.

“Litre?” Auguste asked

“No, small kittens, dummy." A loud snort escaped his sister’s nose.

“You’re a dummy.”

“Then you’re an —”

“Goodnight,” Chevalier interjected, as resolved as if he had to overpower the drumming of thousands of hooves galloping through the plains. All premature complaints suffocated before leaving their nests in juvenile throats, strangled as he drew his children closer still, using the superior length of adult limbs to his advantage; Chevalier kicked the duvet up his legs in vain hopes of avoiding the uncomfortable heat that was sure to follow. A gasp met a grumble, both rocking the silence still huddled just below the ceiling. The quiet did not settle fully over the room, however, odd tension curling small hands into his shirt, arms straining to chain him down even though he had never had any intention to leave. Chevalier sighed.

One item still remained in his arsenal.

“Lay la luli la la la la lay.” The foreign tongue softened his speech, a hum more delicate than lilac petals spilling from his lips. The melody spread through his body, buzzed in his very lungs, honey sweet and rich. “Luli la lulu la lay… Sleep, for me, now sleep, my beautiful child… To see that you are mine, mine, that has me smile… Sleep, for me, now sleep, my beautiful child…. Lay la luli la la la lay… Lay la lay… La lay…”

The squirming ceased, as did the clutching and the kicking. Still resisting sleep, Rosalie hid her nose in the duvet.

“Papa?” she whispered after a little while. “Do you miss mama too?”

As long awaited as it was, the quiet became unbearable, or perhaps it was just the heat; regardless, Chevalier could hear every deepening breath, every sleepy murmur… So he kissed her hair, his little girl nuzzling into him.

“I miss her,” he admitted, more so before himself than anybody else. “I miss Esther too.”

---

Inspiration for the lullaby [link]

Various Works: Esther x Chevalier

You’ve seen a typo? Let me know!

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