#ikemenlibrary

[xbalayage]

if you’re inspired, silvio + insomnia ily

7.  INSOMNIA :  for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am.

It was late in the night, and definitely not planned for. Time had escaped him during a scheduled inventory sweep of a recent shipment; due to an injury caused by a worker of his, failing to follow safety protocols, the anticipated time ended up taking longer. Luckily, instead of it escalating any further than needed, Silvio was able to talk the guy into his silence and sent for a physician to check on his injuries which ended up not being life-threatening. He heaved a big sigh, brushing his hands together at a job well done, everything accounted for and a bullet dodged all in one night — all he wanted more than anything now, was just to lay up with the woman he loved and hadn't seen since early morning.

As the days grow by of finally accepting his feelings, you filtered through his mind more often than before, always wanting to spend every waking minute with you and as much as he love nothing more than that, he had responsibilities that needed tending to that he trusted no one else to perform than himself. Giving the dazzling sea of stars a glance over, he strode back towards an already called upon carriage to head back to his home of a palace. A home he shared with you.

Once arriving back, you've made him hyper aware of how his steps carry through the halls and the sounds of his jewelry echo with each step, so in times he comes home late like this, he tries to be sufficient at lessening those sounds; partially because surprising you was a fun endeavor as well, getting to see the sudden smile breach your features made his long day worthwhile.

Some nights, it was hard to really give a certain time of when he'd be back home, so you'd often stay up, awaiting for him to enter the doors to your shared room, curled up warm by the candlelight with a new book in hand and the moon's caress shining from the windows onto your body. He could already picture the beauty of the sight now— his ethereal, bookworm looking goddess. The sight was even more pleasing when you didn't hear him coming.

So when he approached the doors, he went to open them quietly. However, to his surprise, the butterfly feeling in his stomach twisted to a gut wrenching one when he didn't see you in bed, in the bathroom, or on the balcony. Anxiety and panic suddenly flooded his rational thinking, leading his thoughts into multiple directions: did you finally get tired of him, were you hurt somewhere alone or had a kidnapper come to use you for ransom? He had to shake his head and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Stop being pathetic and think. She wouldn't just vanish on ya even if she was tired of you. She'd give me a piece of her mind before that. There's no way in hell she's hurt, I have the best people to watch over and treat her in a worst case scenario. And if someone had the brain the size of Glumskull's, they'd leave a ransom note at least and I don't see shit anywhere. Think; where else could she be this late at night?

And that's when it hit him.

He didn't leave any more time to think and acted, making quick work leaving the room and heading down the hall with a mission in mind, not paying any mind to his footsteps and the jingle of his necklaces. He just hoped he learned you enough and his intuition was correct.

Once pushing the door open, he hadn't realized his heart had been racing as the minutes passed but it finally relaxed and fell to a soft rhythm again once his eyes reached your form in the corner of the library, curled up by a single light of a candle with your nose in a book. It must be a good read because you didn't even notice him enter the room, your eyes probably adapted to only the area around you. It was a little chilly tonight, why weren't you wearing anything more to warm yourself?

He mentally clicked his tongue, immediately moving to undo his cloak as he approached you, wrapping it around your shoulders. You jumped at the sudden presence of another person, finally relinquishing your gaze from your novel to look up at the man you'd been awaiting for his return. He could tell from the look in your eye that sleep was teetering at the seems and you had been trying hard to fight it back.

"Why didn't ya bring a blanket? Are you tryin' to get sick? How come you came to the library? The bed's more comfortable and warm than this cold room."

You rubbed at your eye and allowed a yawn to escape your lips. He couldn't help but smile at how adorable you were being.

"The bed was lonely without you. I was just trying to pass the time until you came home, I didn't want to go to sleep without you."

Ah, damn it. A blush crept to his cheeks upon hearing your honest words. It was crazy how bad you were for his heart. Without a second more, he scoops you from the ground and into his arms which you gladly allow him to do, finding yourself comfortable in his embrace. You breathed in a deep whiff of his scent before adjusting deeper into his arms. "Mmm.. I missed you."

How can you still say such embarrassing things? You say them even more when you're on the verge of sleep too. He hopes you know that one day, you were going to be the death of him. He couldn't help his smile. You were like a vulnerable child in his arms; so honest and innocent. He leaned in, leaving a loving kiss to your forehead that lingered a few seconds long before speaking once more.

"Ha, I missed you too, silly. C'mon, sweetheart, let's go to bed."

[belovedstill]

trick or treat! 🎃

perhaps this Kiro/MC touch-starved snippet? 👀 thank you c:

“Hey…” Kiro murmured as delicately as only he knew how and gently wrapped his arm around MC. She went pliantly—so willingly, in fact, that he had to wonder if there was any strength left in her body. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

He stroked her back over the blanket, only pausing when she froze and tensed against his shoulder.

“Don’t stop?” she asked, barely above a whisper, voice fragile and higher-pitched than normally. And so he continued.

send me a writer's 'trick or treat!'!

[sunnyikemen]

REPEAT AFTER ME: WE LOVE BRYN. WE LOVE YUKI AND MAI. WE LOVE WHEN BRYN WRITES YUKI AND MAI.

Damn he really came for her abnormally long and curvy neck with that comment lmfao Yuki that is not flirting.

I just know “boo bear” absolutely KILLED him inside and that Shingen marked that day in the diary for the best day in his damn life. Not only was he finally getting some crumbs for his otp but got some Soft Yuki™ to go with it.

Shingen being an absolute menace one of the finer enjoyments in life that I will ALWAYS indulge.

AND HIM AND SASUKE HAVING A PROUD PARENT MOMENT AT THE END. The way that nothing will ever top that for me and that I now have to come to terms with never feeling that same joy from anything else again.

WELCOME BACK BESTIE GORGEOUS PRINCESS BEAUTIFUL we are so lucky to have you🫶🫶🫶

The Act (Ikemen Sengoku)

Pairing: Yukimura Sanada x MC (Mai) Summary: Mai seeks out Yukimura's help for something that she feels only he can help with - tricking Shingen.

Word count: 1.1k

Request:

51.🤞 must pretend | spy | secret identity | identity reveal | undercover | fake dating | secret relationship | fake-married | fake [insert role] | essentially, they must pretend to be somebody they’re not/to be in a dynamic they’re not

A note from the author: Not me returning from the dead after a year away LOL - anyways, this was written as a request from @/belovedstill's prompt list. Requests are still open if you would like to send something in for ikevamp, ikesen, or ikepri! Thank you @belovedstill for this lovely list and prompt, I loved every second of this!

“What do you mean, ‘Yukimura, I need you to pretend to be my fake lover to get Shingen to take a hint.’?” Yukimura and Mai were enjoying some late afternoon tea in his room, when Mai had proposed this idea to him rather nonchalantly. “Are you crazy? He can read me like an open book. He also knows I’d never date an ugly boar woman like you.”

Mai huffed, blowing air out of her hair, making her bangs fly up and lay askew on her forehead. “Don’t say it like that Yuki! Learn some tact, wouldya?” 

“Oh shaddup Mai,” Yuki said, gesturing at her with his full teacup. “You know it’s true!” 

“It isn’t true and I’m not a boar woman!” Mai argued, her brow furrowing in frustration. “I happen to be a very graceful woman. Like… like a swan!” 

Yuki snorted into his teacup. “Yeah, that works.” He leaned in closer, glancing at her neck. “You do have an abnormally long and curvy neck.”

Mai’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment, the way they always do when she gets into a heated argument with Yukimura. He always found a way to get under her skin, and she usually finds herself wondering just why she chooses to spend so much time with him when he’s back in Kasaguyama. This time was no different. 

“Yukimura, I’m serious! Shingen won’t leave me alone. He’s constantly calling me a princess, or a goddess, or his angel. I want him to stop!” Mai slammed down her teacup a little too hard, forcing the table to wobble more than Yukimura would’ve liked. “He’s all bark and no bite. Just smile nicely and move on.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, almost panicked - like a deer in headlights. “But he has tried to bite me! Quite recently, might I add.”

“He’s old, probably turning senile too.” Yuki responded, reaching for more hot water to warm his tea that had turned cold. “And shouldn’t we do everything we can to make sure grandpa’s are happy in their old ages?” There was a hint of sadness in Yuki’s eyes as he looked intently at the floor, and Mai dropped whatever retort she had as Shingen brazenly waltzed into Yukimura’s room, pausing only slightly when he noticed Mai sitting nonchalantly on his friend’s floor. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Yuuuuki, you didn’t mention anything about having any female visitors this afternoon.”

Shingen’s shark-like, suave grin had Mai rolling her eyes, biting her lip so as not to snap back at Shingen. She was in Yukimura’s room, and they were good friends so she wouldn’t disrespect Yuki like that, as much as she wished she could. So, Yukimura’s response to Shingen had Mai, whipping her head up to stare wide eyed at her friend. “Please don’t disrespect Mai like that again, Shingen. The woman I love is more than just a female visitor, maybe you were mistaking me for you?”

Shingen faltered slightly, his grin slipping for a moment before returning. “The woman you love, eh?” He questioned, bringing his hand up to rub at his chin. “And don’t think I didn’t hear you insult me. I’m just in a particularly good mood today and will let it slide.” His gaze fixed on Mai now. “Mai, you didn’t tell me that you and Yuki had this… relationship. No wonder you never took me up on any of my nightly invitations.”

Before Mai could lose her courage, she shoved her hand into Yuki’s, gripping his calloused hand in her own sweaty one. “Yup! I couldn’t betray my Yukimura like that. Sorry Shingen, I should’ve been more honest. My sweetie pie is just very shy, as I’m sure you know well. Right Yuki?”

“Hey! I’m not your–” He cut himself off as Mai dug her nails harshly into her skin, shooting daggers at her before plastering the fakest smile on his face she had ever seen. “You’re right, boo bear. I was a bit embarrassed to admit my feelings for Mai to you, Shingen. That’s why I asked Mai to not mention anything. We’ve been meeting late at night every night, but today I couldn’t bear to wait any longer to see her, so I asked her to meet me for some afternoon tea.”

“I see,” Shingen nodded, eying their tightly clenched hands. “It seems as if I’ve interrupted something, so I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Yuki, you know where to find me if you need any tips or suggestions on how to keep a woman happy.” “Goodbye, Shingen.” Yukimura dismissed his elder, his eyes not once leaving Mai’s face as his grip on her hand loosened into a gentle hold.

“Goodbye, you two.” Shingen turned away, and as he exited the doorway, he called over his shoulder. “By the way, if you want anyone to actually believe you two are in love, you better start working on your acting.” 

Shingen’s laughter could be heard from down the hall, and Yukimura hastily jerked his hand away from Mai’s rubbing it on his kimono. “Your hand was so sweaty! It was gross!” 

Mai recoiled, shoving her finger in his face to point at him. “Yeah well, we wouldn’t have had to hold hands if you didn’t decide to pretend to be in a relationship with me!”

“You asked me to, woman!” Yukimura swiped Mai’s hand away from his face, capturing her hand in his once again, and clumsily interlocking them. “And this is how you hold hands! Not whatever you tried to do before!”

“Why are you always so critical of me?!” Mai asked moving to stand up and rip her hand out of Yukimura’s. He didn’t let go though, instead opting to use their linked hands to tug her back down, tumbling into his lap.

“Because you’re a boar woman, and someone’s gotta keep you in check.” Yukimura’s voice was deeper now, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Plus, you seem to like it. Always asking to spend time with me.” 

“I–” Mai faltered, turning to meet Yuki’s gaze, not realizing just how close he had gotten. “You’re just sometimes more tolerable than the rest, is all.” Yukimura squeezed her hand, and a surge of electricity shot through her body. “If I’m tolerable, you should reevaluate your taste in company. Sounds like we need to get you more air.” “Hey Yuki,” Mai muttered, their noses so close they were almost touching.

“Yeah?” He whispered back, his eyes searching her own for any sort of clue as to what she was gonna say next. “Shut up!” She exclaimed and shot up from his lap, escaping from his grip as giggles bubbled from her lips while he scrambled to chase after her, muttering under his breath that he was gonna get her when she least expected it. 

On the other side of the wall, unbeknownst to Yukimura and Mai, Shingen and Sasuke stood shoulder to shoulder, exchanging knowing looks as they heard their two friends’ laughter ringing through the hallways of the otherwise quiet castle.

[violettduchess]

A/N: I don't know where this came from. I just had an idea for it and wanted to write it down. A small, quiet moment with Gilbert.

Gilbert x Reader, comfort fic

WC: 500

Daylight wans. The sun begins its slow descent, acquiescing the reign of the sky to the night. The moon rises, regal as a queen, bringing with it a court full of cold, diamond-bright stars.  Your slippered feet move silently across black and gold carpeting, the lace hem of your nightgown brushing light kisses against your ankles. You pause outside his door, the massive dark wood carved with prowling tigers as if protecting the study and all of its secrets.

But you are not afraid of their claws or sharp teeth.

With a steady hand, you press down on the gilded handle and enter.

He is sitting at his desk, writing, working, always working. He’s shed his cloak, his gloves, his belt, his cravat, all the golden ornamental trappings of his authority. The sight of him, stripped down to his gray shirt, his dark pants and socks, flattens your lungs, swells your heart. One elegant hand is pushed into the midnight silk of his hair, his head tilted away from you as the dark feathered quill scratches continuously along the parchment. Moonlight spills like ethereal paint through the arched window, fighting with the soft, orange glow of the chamberstick over who is allowed to illuminate the planes of his face, which type of light is allowed to tenderly caress that pale skin, the gentle slope of his neck.

One step into the room and the quill freezes, his head turns and he sees you there. There are shadows under his brilliant, blood-red eye. You worry he is not feeling well, he is pushing himself too hard, he is drawing on a finite source of energy that may run out.

“Come here.”

The command is still a command, however gently he may speak it. But you go willingly, crossing the room until you are at his side. He shifts his body, pushing the heavy desk chair back slightly and then pulls you onto his lap, sighing when he feels your weight against him, as if it is relief, as if it is oxygen.

You are here.

The quill lies abandoned on the desk, losing its last few drops of ebon ink.

You are here and everything else will wait.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you so tightly against him that every breath you take pushes against his hold. You don’t mind. He nuzzles against the silk of your robe, roughly pulls it until it drapes off of you, leaving him your bare shoulder and one thin silken nightgown strap. He buries his face just there, hides his unearthly beauty away from the world so that he may get lost in your darkness, your scent, the warmth of you. Your hands slide across his shoulders where you feel the tension coiled within, the serpentine stress that bites at him daily, sinks its gleaming fangs into him over and over without remorse. Your hand comes to rest on the back of his neck and you cradle him, loving and secure, against you. His breath is hot, unsteady as you tighten your grip on his nape, firm and unyielding.

I'm here, it says. I have you. 

The Conqueror Beast can finally, finally rest.

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

@tele86 @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen

@myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @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 @bubblexly @joiedecombat

@ozalysss

[pillowpillowillo]

Love Potion for Two

For @kalims-pessimist-bestie for the My Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange! One of your prompts was cooking, and who better to stir up a mysterious concoction than Clavis? Thank you @ikemenlibrary for hosting such a wholesome event! ^^

[pondlilies00]

@alydra Here's your gifts for the Ikepri Gift Exchange! I hope you like it, Sariel defiantly needs a nap lol

Thank you @ikemenlibrary and @sunnyikemen for hosting this event! It's been fun participating ^^

[keithsandwich]

A Sweet Taste

Pairing: Silvio/MC (Emma)

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: Swearing, bickering, a brief mention of seasickness.

Summary: During Silvio and Emma's first voyage together, Silvio decides to make her a surprise for Valentine's. However, nothing can stop her curiosity.

Notes: Written for @goustmilk for the My Ikémen Valentine Gift Exchange, hosted by @ikemenlibrary. This was my first time writing for Silvio, and I really hope you like it, Dani!!

Emma was getting used to the sway of the waves and the creaking sounds of the ship. They didn’t disturb her anymore while sleeping, especially when Silvio made a habit of enveloping her tightly in his arms every night. They were heading to another continent where her lover had business to attend to, and he had decided to take her with him for a little adventure of their own. She couldn’t be happier; their days were always filled with new lessons as they sailed together on the open sea under a bright blue sky, the sun unusually warm for February. And their nights were always filled with love, and now also with rest, since she could fall into a deep sleep in his arms until morning came, finding herself still within his grip as she woke up.

Emma let out a groggy sigh that morning, anticipating the warmth of his presence, ready to tease him about being as needy as a puppy for cuddling her all night long. However, to her surprise, there were no arms around her this time.

Emma turned quickly in bed, patting his side of their bed, but the sheets were cold, and there was no sign of Silvio in their quarters. Emma sat up straight, frowning; it wasn’t like him to let her sleep in without even letting her know he was leaving. He knew she would be worried, and if it weren’t for the gentle swing of the ship and the peaceful sounds outside — the closest semblance of silence within the ever-noisy wooden vessel at sea — she would be downright alarmed. Still, she wondered what could have been so urgent that made him leave without his typical, brazen, yet sweet “Oi! Sleepyhead! I have business to take care of, but you stay and sleep some more”.

Emma dressed quickly before emerging from the captain’s quarters. The door creaked softly as she stepped onto the deck, her eyes squinting against the sunlight. Her gaze swept across the deck, searching for her lover, but she saw no trace of his pale-blue hair being tousled by the sea breeze, a perfect match to the sea waves. There was no jewelry shining under the sun. No haughty voice giving off commands to the crew, no jangling sounds. She bit her lip, growing more anxious to find him. Moving towards the nearby navigator’s area, she slowly pushed open the door and scanned the room for Silvio. As she did, her heart clenched. There, between maps, charts, compasses, and astrolabes, she could only find Carlo behind the desk, absorbed in his work.

“Good morning, Carlo…” she announced her presence with a gentle knock on the door, which she was still holding.

He seemed startled by her voice and looked at her apologetically.

“Good morning! Ah… I’m sorry I hadn’t noticed you there, I was too caught up with calculations, and…”

“That’s okay, really,” Emma waved her hands placatingly. There was no need for apologies or explanations — especially when she still couldn’t understand his work entirely — and she wished he could focus on her words instead. “I was just wondering if you know where Silvio is.”

“I-I-I… he…” Carlo stuttered, looking around as if searching for something — maybe his words. “Actually, he asked me to tell you to wait for him here. He’s… taking care of something important below deck…”

Emma couldn’t help but furrow her eyebrows suspiciously. Carlo was hiding a secret, that much was obvious. Silvio was up to something, and he was covering up for him. But what could he possibly be conspiring in a ship?

“I see.” She nodded in agreement, but in her mind, she was weighing two possibilities: either let it go and wait for Silvio as he intended, or... “Below deck, you say?”

“Lady Emma, you don’t know the passageways well; you’ll get lost if you go after him,” Carlo moved from his desk to dissuade her from her intentions. “I can show you how... how to use the astrolabe if you please. Or we can discuss any matter you would like.”

It was too late, however.

“I’m sorry, Carlo,” it was her turn to smile apologetically, although Emma didn’t truly regret her decision. She set herself on the move, knowing full well Carlo was exasperatedly following her steps. “If I am to become familiar with this ship, I must also learn the ways my lover has of being secretive with me here. Or did he honestly expect me to sit still and wait for him?”

Granted, he would whine about it, but Silvio knew her. And he wouldn’t love her so much had she been obedient to his whims.

.

The recipe had been carefully written down on paper by Emma’s favorite confectioner. Silvio had made sure to pay him a visit the last time he went to Rhodolite. How Silvio managed to keep that recipe a secret, as well as his trips to the palace’s kitchen to practice under the guise of attending business meetings, remained a mystery, and he was proud of his deeds so far. Spending their very first Valentine’s Day together on the ship would be necessary, but he was determined to make that day special for Emma. Since cakes would spoil during the trip and chocolate boxes would melt in the storage room, the best option was to learn how to bake and do it himself in the galley.

She used to cook and bake for him all the time, and he felt good doing the same for her — although he would never say it out loud. But was Silvio still feeling confident now that he was covered in flour and ingloriously trying to beat the batter while double-checking the recipe and attempting to ensure the oven was at the correct temperature all at the same time? His grumbled profanities revealed a man far less confident than he was while conducting his tests in the palace. But a full kitchen with a steady floor was different from a galley swinging along the sea waves; and having a considerable amount of time was different from trying to rush things out to surprise Emma before she woke up.

Asking Carlo to stall her in case she did — because she definitely would look for him first thing — and trusting he could actually do it were two different things. For all that was worth, Emma was stubbornly obstinate and couldn't behave for shit. The thought of her irritating antics made Silvio blush. Unbeknownst to him, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips formed a little pout. He beat the batter harder, causing it to spill all over the place.

“Cazzo!” Silvio couldn’t help but shout angrily, leaving the whisk in the bowl as he made an indignant hand gesture.

He sighed heavily, looking down at the chocolate batter in the bowl, its sweet scent a harsh contrast to the salty sea air. Silvio’s haughty expression softened little by little as he remembered why he was doing this, and soon he took the whisk again and resumed beating the mixture. “The more you beat it, the fluffier it’ll get after baking!”, the confectioner had said. “And Miss Emma loves fluffy cakes,” he added.

Fluffy, sweet, covered in sugar that melted in your mouth. The thought of Emma’s delight warmed his heart and brought a smile to his lips, the silly rush of emotions making his cheeks warm with a blush again.

Good thing no one was there to see it.

.

Emma navigated through the narrow passageways of the ship, with Carlo trailing closely behind. While she was aware of what lay below the deck — the crew’s cabins, the galley, the storage rooms — most of it remained a mystery to her. Despite her limited familiarity, there was one place she felt more comfortable with than others. Although it didn’t make any sense for Silvio to be there, her feet naturally guided her right to the galley.

“Lady Emma,” Carlo persisted, trying to reason with her. “If Prince Silvio doesn’t want to be found, don’t you think it's better to wait for him on deck? I'm sure he has a good reason…”

“Carlo, let’s make a deal,” she said, slowing down and turning to him. Her voice was hushed, mindful not to reveal their presence in case Silvio was nearby. “Just show me where he is. All I want is to know what he’s up to. We can return to the deck before he even notices us.”

Suddenly, the faint scent of salt and dried fish in the air was overtaken by a sweet aroma. Emma inhaled deeply, confused by the captivating scent she wasn’t expecting to encounter there. Was it... cake? Could it be that Silvio was baking her a cake? She threw an inquiring glance at Carlo, as if she had voiced her doubts, and he looked back at her with a conflicted expression.

“Porca miseria!” Silvio’s frustrated curses echoed from somewhere nearby, dismissing the need for Carlo’s guidance. Emma’s heart quickened with anticipation as she followed the source of the sound and that amazing scent, her senses guiding her through the labyrinth of corridors of the ship.

With Carlo never leaving her side, she rounded a corner and saw Silvio surrounded by flour-dusted surfaces and the warm glow of the galley’s oven. His brow furrowed in concentration, his hands a flurry of activity as he wrestled with the batter before him. She halted and took a step back, almost colliding with Carlo in the process. But she had promised him she wouldn’t let Silvio know they were there. The image of her lover working with such dedication made her smile uncontrollably, though, and she wished she could let out a giggle.

“Can we head back now?” Carlo whispered urgently.

Emma hummed softly while considering, peeking from behind the corner to watch Silvio struggling to put the batter in the baking pan while the ship swayed more forcefully. “Why is he baking a cake, though?” she murmured to herself.

“Don’t you know?” Carlo whispered a little louder in surprise. “Oh, right, sorry. You must’ve lost track of time here. It’s Valentine’s Day today, Lady Emma.”

“Is it?” Her whisper was even louder, and she immediately covered her mouth, hoping Silvio hadn’t heard her. “You should’ve let me know; I wanted to do something for him, too.”

She had believed they would have already reached land by the 14th, but apparently, she had miscalculated the duration of the trip when Silvio told her about it. She had been so excited and touched by the sight of Silvio baking her a cake, but now she was starting to feel guilty for not doing something special for him too.

“He had mentioned he wanted to do something for you this time, since you’re always doing so much for him. Not in those exact words, of course, but I know him well enough to understand.”

Emma knew exactly what Carlo was talking about, and it only made her heart race faster for her lover. “Carlo, I’m sorry, but I have to go there.”

“You told me you wouldn’t…”

“I know, but I have to. Besides, he seems like he needs help, and-”

Emma turned to peek at Silvio again to check how he was doing, but what she saw was the glistening gold of the necklaces on his chest. Really close. She raised her eyes sheepishly and met his annoyed stare.

“Who the hell told ya I need help?” Silvio stood with his hands on his hips, chocolate smudges staining the fancy fabric of his clothes, telling another story. “And you? Thought I told ya to keep her away from here. How come you both ended up like damned rats nosing around and chattering in my galley?”

“You left me without saying a word!” Emma retorted boldly, matching Silvio's assertiveness and cutting off Carlo before he could start apologizing. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You couldn’t possibly have expected me to sit still! Besides... you’re obviously in need of help,” her eyes roamed from his messy clothes to the messy galley.

“You’re impossible, woman!”

They pouted at each other, forming a pair of stubborn, hot-blooded fools. Their cheeks flushed even more by the second as they engaged in a stare-down. The moment Emma’s gaze wavered and she looked away from Silvio’s sea-blue eyes, he felt a pang in his heart. With an unintelligible mutter, he shook his head.

“Fine! Damn it! It’s Valentine’s Day, so stop spouting nonsense and come help me already!”

.

Emma was getting used to the sway of the waves and the creaking sounds of the ship. Silvio noticed it in the way she danced around the galley completely undisturbed, mixing the batter with light movements, taking care of the oven, and ensuring the cake pan was ready before pouring the batter into it. She moved as naturally as she would in the palace's kitchen, quite the evolution for someone who had experienced seasickness like Valerio usually did during her first days at sea.

She really was amazing.

As it turns out, his first attempt didn't go well. The batter got stuck in the pan, and the cake didn't rise, so she was working her magic to ensure that they would have something for the day. And for as long as he wished to do that alone, helping her out while she baked felt like they were already celebrating Valentine's Day together. Good thing Emma decided to stick her cute little nose in his business, and that he decided to let her in. Carlo politely left them alone — he definitely didn't want to be involved in their mess in the first place. And now, everything felt in the right place.

Except for her lips, when, after they placed the pan in the oven, she suddenly leaned in not only for a simple kiss but also for a tiny lick on his cheek. The surprising sensation made Silvio shiver and blush uncontrollably, flinching away from her touch. Emma giggled shamelessly at her bold actions.

“There was still some batter on your cheek, and I wanted to taste it,” she explained nonchalantly. “Silvio, you taste so sweet right now, you know that?”

“Sh-shut up!!” He spat, frowning at her, but her annoying behavior, and the way she glowed brighter and warmer than the oven in front of them, were simply too endearing to him. The fact was that he loved her, and she was the only person in the world who could evoke such feelings in him.

As suddenly as she kissed him, Silvio wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed their bodies together. His kiss was on her lips, stronger, with a hunger no cake could satisfy. When he rendered her breathless, Silvio broke the kiss and smirked at her.

“Now, you,” he murmured, his fingers gently brushing back a lock of her hair behind her ear, tracing a delicate path through the strands. Her beautiful eyes shined in anticipation, and he smiled honestly. It was Valentine's Day, and there would be no real celebration if he wasn't true to her. “You taste sweet all the time…”

Taglist: @bicayaya @queengiuliettafirstlady @olivermorningstar

[chirp-a-chirp]

Flickering Light

Fandom: Ikemen Prince • Character Pairing: Leon Dompteur X OC (OC Named Carla) • Other Characters: Gilbert Von Obsidian, Chevalier Michel • Tags: Established Relationship; Angst; Hurt and Comfort; Angst and Feels; Memory Flashbacks (if stories featuring physical fights/abuse trigger you, don’t read); PTSD; references of slavery and refugees; Leon route spoilers • Word Count: ~2950

Synopsis: The Sunshine prince battles darkness in Obsidian with the help of his fiancé Carla. A crumbling tower triggers childhood flashbacks for Leon he’s tried to forget.

Alternate Synopsis: With the amount of trauma associated with Leon’s childhood, coupled with an inability to discuss it out loud due to circumstance and *insert hero archetype tendencies to not easily admit weakness*, I’m convinced Leon would have some significant PTSD. And memories he’s suppressed. This is a story about how he might deal with that with a loved one.

Want to learn more about Carla and Leon? Check out these stores: Seeker and Simmer

Folks Who (Might?) Appreciate This Story: @reborn-elven-spirit @candied-boys @wistfulwanderingone @x-daedalus-x @ikeprinces-stuff @violettduchess @aide-falls @animehusbandharem @the-bird-and-the-flute @sh0jun @5mary5 @queengiuliettafirstlady @sonicsquid3000 @ikemenlibrary @eventinelysplayground @lorei-writes @dear-sciaphilia

…

“A rather bold request. I’d expect nothing less from his lioness.”  

Leon’s arm wrapped protectively around Carla at Gilbert’s needling. She and Leon, along with Yves and King Chevalier, were in an audience room within the Obsidian Castle, serving in Rholodite’s delegation finalizing a cooperative agreement with the nation of soldiers and steel. Carla stared unblinkingly back at the world-wide disaster. “Not really. Rhodolite is about to enter a peace agreement with Obsidian. That agreement is with the country, not just you.”

“But I am Obsidian.” Gilbert tapped his ebony cane on the floor to emphasize his point. “And so are you, little cub. You’re as much Obsidian as the half-mast mongrel there.” Gilbert did not bother to contain his disdain of Yves, whose cheeks flushed irritably. 

“Hey, leave my fiancé’s mother and Yves out of this. Your conversation is with me.”  Leon shot a challenging glance at Gilbert. “And by the way, it’s Carla. My fiancé’s name is Carla. Not little cub.”  

“Ah, so Rhodolite’s lion marks his territory.” The corner of Gilbert’s mouth quirked in amusement. “No need to roar at me.” 

“I can’t really help it. She’s like the sun that I stand beneath.” Leon asserted with pride, the tension in the room lifting temporarily as he looked fondly at Carla. He turned back to Gilbert, his voice warm but with a firm edge. “So, of course I’m gonna have an opinion on how you speak with her.”

“She’d have to stand on a pretty large chair to stand beneath her. Heehee.” Yves bristled at Gilbert’s words. Carla squeezed Leon’s hand reassuringly, refusing to appear ruffled.

“Our agreement allows Rhodolite to visit medical and military facilities. I don’t see how Leon and I touring your southern regions contradicts that agreement.” Carla was taking a risk in asking, but another opportunity to freely explore Obsidian—including areas near the underground network she led for refugees escaping into Rhodolite—would not happen again soon.  

“Access goes through me. Paths to freedom are available because I allow them to be. Including those near the border.” A crimson eye narrowed slightly. “Things can always be worse. Networks…vanish.” Gilbert grinned, as if he hadn’t just hinted at knowing Carla’s secret.   

Who does Rhodolite belong to—the people that live there, those that wish to live there, or both?  That one question from Carla before they had become a couple had expanded Leon’s perspective. And without kingly trappings ensnaring him, Leon felt emboldened to lean into that perspective through unofficial channels. Including the underground network he now helped Carla maintain. The fact that Chevalier, who sat at a nearby table surrounded by paperwork, had not interrupted thus far gave tacit leeway for Leon to continue. “The agreement is between our peoples. As such, Carla and I should get to know your people. Including those outside the Castle. We can’t exactly do that cooped up here.” 

“And what is more important? Me or the people?” 

“The people.” Carla and Leon spoke in unison.   

“A pair as pure as ever. I just might puke.” Gilbert smirked. “A pity you wear black Prince Leon. White suits you and the little cub—ahem, I mean Lady Carla—more. Certainly, more than him.” Gilbert inclined his head towards Chevalier. “I see why you two gravitate towards one another.”

“We are like candles, each lighting the other.” Carla’s voice softened for the first time since talking with Gilbert. Leon’s hand curled towards her waist, pulling her close. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” Leon whispered.     

“Ridiculous.” A deep sigh penetrated the air. “Can we get on with negotiations?” Chevalier lifted his eyes from the stack of papers.      

“Your beastly king censures you.” Gilbert sneered, tossing a rolled-up piece of parchment in Leon’s direction. “Here’s the map of our southern lands. And passes granting permission to travel there. I’m sure you’re both eager to get going.”

“Just like that?” Leon lifted an eyebrow, catching the parchment. 

“I have more fun things to play with here.” Gilbert gestured to Chevalier and Yves in poorly concealed amusement. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he offered a final comment to Leon. “But remember this: Obsidian is a land known for darkness—even the brightest candles can burn out from what they see.” 

…

A week had passed since Carla and Leon’s meeting with Prince Gilbert. They were well-beyond the neat and orderly confines of the capital. Towns and villages were scattered across the increasingly barren landscape, with poorly maintained roads connecting them. 

The pair traveled by foot on a dusty trail, a smattering of gnarled trees dotting one side of the trail. The path meandered over mostly open land, littered with dead brush and dry grasses matted down from perpetual wind. Carla opened the map as they trekked along, head buried in the folds of paper. With a sudden THUMP, Carla found herself walking straight into the broad back of Leon. 

“Oomph!” Carla rubbed her nose and took a step back. She folded the map, placing it in her travel pack. “You OK?” 

Leon stood silently in the middle of the trail, a solemn gravity emanating from him. His expression was faraway and dark. 

“Is anyone there?”

A tiny hand reached towards the sky. Blistered fingers grasped at the emptiness around him before curling into his dirty palm. His hand fell to his side, brushing against the immoveable boulder he was tasked to transport to the Lord’s tower. The boy’s back flinched in anticipation of the abuse his handler would reap for not moving the rock in time.    

“No,” the boy murmured. “Like that’s gonna happen.” A part of him wanted to scream, but why bother. 

The boy’s world tumbled into darkness. He would always be lost. Trapped. Alone. A piercing voice broke his train of thought, causing him to whip his head around.

“Leon?!”

Warm fingers grasped Leon’s hand, squeezing tightly. The faded blur of that childhood memory scattered as Carla’s fingers twined with his, anchoring him to the present. The heavy, bleaker emotions associated with the memory lingered still—clear, distinct, and real.   

Carla’s eyes followed Leon as he stared intensely at the horizon. In the distance stood a dilapidated tower, crumbling with age and decay. Several sections of the tower were missing, sooty stones tossed about the ground. 

“That tower. I’ve…I’ve been there before.” Leon’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper that faded into the wind.  

Carla’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. They were in a part of Obsidian neither had explored previously in their rescue missions. Most Rhodolite royalty had not been in Obsidian for non-war or espionage related activities for years. There was no way in which Leon could have been near this place before, unless…

Unless as a child. A slave. Carla’s eyes widened, comprehension dawning in rapid alarm. Leon’s jaw clenched, tightly ticking in a subconscious attempt to swallow the emotions burning inside. She turned her body, placing herself in front of Leon as if she could block the barrage of horrendous thoughts assaulting him.  

“Leon? Leon!”

He did not hear her. Leon’s body stiffened, his free hand clinching the hem of his traveling cloak to the point that his knuckles turned white. The little boy in rags reaching towards the sky was a memory Leon’s heart refused to let go. It was an incomplete memory—one that had battered him inside for years even as he tried to shut it out. But with the tower in sight, Leon now recalled more. His eyes were distant, as if watching a scene only visible to him.  

“BOY!”

His handler came rushing from the work site, face ruddy, shaking with fury. The workman did not call him by name. A name implied worth and meaning. The boy had none. The boy tried to fix an impassive mask on his features. 

“I’m almost done. See? See!” The boy barely suppressed the rising warble in his voice. 

Don’t show fear. Don’t show weakness. Don’t feel it. Don’t. Don’t.  

The boy pushed with all his might against the boulder, his shoulders and back scraping painfully against hardened jagged edges. The rock, as if mocking him, moved a scant few inches forward before lurching back to its original spot.  

“I see.” His handler rasped, eyes gleaming. “I see a need for motivation.” A massive fist came barreling from the sky. 

Don’t cry out. That’ll make things worse. So, so much worse.     

The boy crouched in a ball, hands covering his face in a feeble attempt to block the blow.

“Leon! Talk to me. Please.”

Carla’s voice was distant, echoing in the far reaches of Leon’s mind. Leon was crouched up against a tree, one of his hands gripping the roots of his hair. Where was he? How did he get here? He shrank into a tighter coil, bracing against an invisible threat. Leon’s golden eyes were dilated, nearly replaced with orbs of black.

“We walked away from the tower. You’re on the outskirts of a nearby forest. You’re safe.” With difficulty, Carla got Leon to a sitting position on the ground, his back leaning against the tree. His shoulders remained hunched, as if trying to make himself a smaller target.   

This…this was not her Leon. Present Leon Carla corrected to herself. The charismatic hero with a ready smile carried hidden darkness that dwelled deep in his mind. She had seen similar scenes play out before with others she had rescued from Obsidian. The most innocuous objects—teapots, riding crops, a lady’s red hat—could induce terror, pull people into harrowing pasts. Carla mentally added crumbling towers to clear blue skies, raw hide whips, and the smell of pine bark as triggers for Leon. 

Carla lowered herself so that she straddled Leon’s lap, her eyes the same level as his. Carla’s hands framed both sides of his face, stilling his movements so that all Leon saw was her. Leon blinked repeatedly, his shallow breathing eventually slowing, his glazed stare re-centering towards his beloved.   

“Carla…”

Her name fell from his lips, half despair, half hope. Not wanting to sink deeper into darkness, Leon reached out and crushed Carla to him. He wanted to drown in her, soak into her being. His hands grasped at her curves, seeking comfort and safety.   

Trauma. It was more visible to Carla than usual. Leon’s anguish was painful to witness. Leon claimed he felt nothing when he reflected on his pre-palace childhood. But Carla had never truly believed he was as numb to those experiences as he acted. His eyes had always clouded over, shadows flickering, with each person she and he helped through their underground network. Especially children. The mightier the hero, the greater the fall. Carla’s eyes watered as she sniffled loudly. Leon stopped his movements, his eyes widening at her expression. 

“Leon…” She pressed her lips against his shoulder, caressing a scar so faded it was nearly invisible. Her hands grazed the contours of his upper back, fingers tracing muscles previously lanced with marks of a whip. “I’m here sweetheart.” 

Emotions beyond language’s ability to express them filled Leon as he clung to her. Carla could feel the thrum of Leon’s pulse against her skin, her lips connected to him in an act as spiritual as it was physical. Her presence was life giving—to the prince he was now and the boy he was then. Carla sighed softly and leaned slightly back. She wrapped her fingers through Leon’s wind-blown locks, attempting to coax him. “Do you want to talk?”

“Of course. It’s you.” 

There was sincerity in Leon’s words. “Don’t worry about me. I was just thinking earlier. That’s all.” His voice was casual, nearly dismissive. Dismissive of himself and the need to unburden his mind. 

“I’m your fiancé. It’s my job to worry about you. You don’t do it enough yourself.” 

The rebuttal that flitted to Leon’s lips vanished under the directness of her gaze. His eyes wavered with emotion. “I’m sorr—”

“If you say I’m sorry for the gift of knowing you—ALL of you—I’m going to have words.” Carla’s vivid blue eyes pierced straight into his soul. A wounded soul that did not know whether it was safe to reveal itself yet. “Your heart cries out even if your eyes don’t.”

Don’t cry out. It’ll be over soon.

The boy uttered not a sound, even as clinched fists and hardened boots collided against his arms and aching ribs. His handler had done this before. He knew it would happen again.

Nothing. He willed himself to feel nothing.      

“You hold back. Stop carrying that weight. Let it out.” Leon flinched reflexively as fingers grazed his ribs. But these touches were light, soothing, did not batter and bash. They lingered on him, as if trying to lance away the pain he held onto.  

Pain. He learned to live with it. Numbness and resilience intersecting into a blur. A blur that had him drowning on dry land. But now he sought air.

Leon let out a shaky breath. “I…I was here.” Another breath. “I looked at the sky. I couldn’t move a rock.” Another breath. “And then…fists came down.” 

Love—an emotion so sweet yet fragile. Something to protect and be protective over. Driven by the force of that emotion, Carla threw her arms around Leon, cradling his head to her as he shook uncontrollably. 

He felt everything. Everything he had suppressed most of his life. Words tumbled out of him, nightmarish memories crowding his mind as rapid fire as fists from the sky. 

“Please. Please. PLEASE. STOP!”

He screamed—for all the times he had not. 

“STOP!” Leon screamed repeatedly into Carla’s shoulder, raw, sharply piercing. The roar of a wounded beast and a terrified boy tangled into one. Leon winced repeatedly, as if struck by repeated blows. Carla curled herself around him, clinging tightly over him, her body shielding him from his handler, the looming tower, everything. He shuddered for what seemed like an eternity, gasping for breath, voice cracking. “STOP…stop…please.” 

And then, startling silence. 

The boy laid down in the mud. The air was empty, devoid of the faintest warmth. The taste of iron trickled down his cheek from a gash near his temple. His handler was gone, having made his point. 

Ache. His body ached. His heart throbbed, whether with pain or resignation he did not know. A loneliness surrounded him that ached even more. 

Another slave, trained in rudimentary medics, eventually came by to treat the boy’s wounds. The boy remained face down in the mud, barely moving.  

“Some people scream so loud anyone can hear’em. Wail like babies even.”  A glob of ointment, thick and gloopy, was roughly rubbed on the boy’s shoulders. “You kid? You scream in silence.”

To know another’s pain, to be allowed to see it and witness its vulnerability was a humbling experience. The air was still, as if recognizing the significance of the moment.

“It’s not OK what happened to you. All of it.” 

A painful pressure squeezed the breath from Leon’s lungs and then released at Carla’s words. He had never heard that—an acknowledgement of what he went through, the wrongness of it all. His brothers now knew of his past, but it was never spoken of—a buried truth, an unofficial price for maintaining his status as fourth prince. The silence of it all was too much. 

The boy was too tired to scream. 

And yet. A faint flicker within his heart refused to die out.

 He lifted his head from the mud.   

“If I were in trouble, what would you do?” The words were barely audible, mumbled into Carla’s shoulder. Leon slowly raised his head. I don’t need fixing his golden eyes seemed to plead; I need…I need…

“I’d help you.”

Understanding. “Regardless of who I am?” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the words escaped him.  

“I love you. All of you: past and present; pauper and prince; perfect and pained.” Her voice flowed with understanding and affection. “You speak as if the boy you were before should be gone, forever erased. The echo of him remains, buried inside, guiding you. And I am grateful that boy is still there wanting to be seen and heard.”

Carla cupped a hand to Leon’s cheek, gently encouraging him to look at her. “That boy has made you who you are. You are a man who has witnessed darkness but carries light for Rhodolite. You have walked out of fire but come back with water for those that are still in flames, seeking help within our underground network. You show compassion because that boy knows what is like to have had none.” 

Her words seeped into his being. Love touched every fractured piece of Leon, mending him back together. “So yes, I’d help you. Because I adore you. And because you’ve looked pain in the eye, and you’ve stared back with love—love for your country, your brothers, your people.”

“And you.” Leon was filled with searing warmth. “Especially you. More than anything.” Amber eyes radiated hope again. 

“I would hope so, considering we’re engaged.” Carla smiled slightly. 

His heart squeezed at her teasing words. “You move me so much Carla, it’s almost absurd.” He clasped her to his chest, squeezing tight. “Thank you.”

A hand reached for the sky. 

Is anyone there? 

“You’re not alone.” Carla’s hand was steady as Leon reached for it. Her fingers grasped his, twining together. An unspoken promise to never let go. 

“We are candles, each lighting the other.” Carla repeated the words she had spoken to Gilbert. “And I will light your way through the dark.”

[xxsycamore]

"I can't have sex with you Arthur, I don't have enough diamonds!!"

Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader • rating: M (MDNI) • tags: Breaking the Fourth Wall; Crack; Implied Sexual Content; Suggestive Themes • wordcount: 580 • masterlist

a/n: I've had this crack fic idea since FOREVER, but I think it's relatable at any given time... Tagging @ikemendood for crack content 👉🏻👈🏻

It has been one of these days, when it feels like you and Arthur have been locked in the universe of some kind of action movie. Bizzare and dramatic things have been happening all day long, some that led to miscommunications between you but quickly got resolved with the power of love...

Naturally, eager as you both are to once again prove your love for each other, things begin to get heated at the end of the day.

And then you gasp panically in realization.

"I don't have enough dia for the epilogue!!"

You find yourself pushed down on the bed, but in the last second you manage to block Arthur with your hands so he can't get on top of you yet.

"Hmm?~What did you say, Luv? You know, I've been waiting to have you sprawled under me allll day..."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out an agonizing whine at having to disobey your own need. You turn to your side and reach for your cellphone that has been charging on the nightstand.

Arthur blinks, still perplexed that you're using this thing at all. While you could charge it just fine, he wondered what you're using it for in this day and age.

Not to mention at a time like that. While he's right there, ready to devour you.

"Dear?"

You appear to be tapping hurriedly on the thing, blue light illuminating your face as some strange music is produced from the bizarre piece of technology. Without looking at your lover, you struggle to mutter an answer.

"It's- You wouldn't understand."

Arthur remains frozen in his place, observing as the screen flashes, your fingers dancing on it. He sees... test tubes aligned on the screen. They're ...filled with different colored liquid?

You rush to sort them by color as if you're being held at gunpoint. Arthur has never been so confused in his life.

"Luv, you're right, I don't understand. But you could just say if you don't feel in the mood for-"

"NO! I MUST GET THE EPILOGUE AND HAVE SEX WITH YOU TONIGHT!"

"...?"

The sultry conclusion, the epilogue of your day spent together, he figures. His writer's vocabulary might be rubbing off on you. That's kind of endearing, but...

Arthur sits down on his haunches perplexed. Is this some strange form of bedroom roleplay you're introducing him to?

"I must have you, Arthur, I even saw the preview and it was so hot-"

"The preview? You're saying you had a naughty dream about us making love and you want to see it come true? Dirty girl..."

Arthur's distracting words make you mess up in your game, and you have to restart the level. Just a few more and the game will give you a reward in diamonds, then all you need to do would be to watch those annoying daily ads and then it should be enough...

Seeing that his dirty talk has no effect on you, Arthur sighs and moves away from his position. Instead, he lies down next to you, becoming your big spoon as he looks over your shoulder at the game you're so consumed in, seeing that you're not going to pay him any attention before you're done with it.

"It's some kind of puzzle game, isn't it? Maybe you should leave it to me, Luv... in the meantime, why don't you tell me more about that 'preview' you saw of our intimate time together, hmm?"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @princess-pray-a Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[sunnyikemen]

Smarty Pants

Pairing: IkeVamp Leonardo x MC

Summary: She was surround by constant reminders of how she didn't quite fit in with the others. She had made progress, and with Leonardo's support she was feeling more and more comfortable in the mansion, but still not fully settled. After a heated discussion with Arthur, though, she decides enough is enough. Much to Leonardo's enjoyment.

Word count: ~2400

Warnings: None!

Notes: This is a gift for @technicolorbirds as part of @ikemenlibrary's My Ikemen Valentine Gift exchange!! I hope you enjoy, Birds :)

***

“Arthur, you’re being gross.”

“All I’m saying, sweetheart, is that a lovely, voluminous skirt leaves a little more to be desired-”

“I don’t care. Women DO wear trousers in the 21st century. They’ve been wearing them since like…the 1920s!”

“Those poor, sexually unfulfilled modern day men. A moment of silence for their losses.”

“You…women look hot in trousers!”

“Must be so sad.”

“Weren’t you literally alive during the 1920s?!”

It had been around half an hour since Leonardo stopped reading his book, his eyes peeking above the pages. A smirk had crept up his face as his gaze dashed between the players of this verbal tennis match. He wondered if he should have left the room when this began, but he was finding it far too amusing. The others rarely challenged Arthur these days, often opting for an eye roll or simply walking away, but she never let him get away with anything. It was refreshing.

And attractive, if he was quite honest.

Leonardo had been keeping a watchful eye since she started living in the mansion. He had heard her footsteps grow stronger, more purposeful, as she explored the halls. He had noticed that the pause between those approaching footsteps and the creak of a door had become shorter, in fact now there was barely a pause at all. And his favourite, was she no longer snuck away back to her own room after their nights together, but rather snuggled up next to him to rest. She was finally settling in. However, he knew there was still some work to do.

“As informative and entertaining as this conversation has been, I unfortunately must be taking my leave now. Can’t leave a lass waiting for too long now, can we?”

He watched her roll her eyes before letting out a huff, “Poor girl. Send her my condolences.”

The comment clearly flew right over Arthur’s head, as he blew her a kiss and slipped out of the room.

Leonardo wasn’t expecting the silence that followed, nor to be met with the back of her head when he glanced up from his book, which he promptly shut and placed it on the table next to him. He waited to see if she would speak first, and when she didn’t, he shuffled over on the sofa and patted the space next to him. The sound finally made her look up, and with a slight gesture from Leonardo, she joined him.

“What is it, cara mia?” She had laid her head on the back of the sofa, and he wasted no time smoothing the hair off her face, letting the strands curl around his fingers before cascading across her shoulder, “You know he just likes to rile you up, you should pay him no mind.”

She sighed, lifting her legs to lay across Leonardo’s thighs. “I know, it’s just moments like that where I realise how differently I see the world than you guys. And I know you all come from different times so none of you really think the same either but,” she let her eyelids droop, sinking into the feeling of Leonardo’s expert hands tracing shapes along her calves and lightly scratching against her scalp. How lucky she is to have the hands of an artist and a genius have their attention fixed on her. “I don’t know. I guess the gap just feels bigger and that makes me feel smaller.”

“I don’t understand how you consistently manage to take the things that make you otherworldly and turn them into insecurities.”

She opened her eyes, only to be met with complete and utter sincerity in the shade of amber, “You don’t understand because you’re an artist. You love those things.”

“You’re right, because they make beautiful art. And who enjoys beautiful art, hm?” When she didn’t answer, he filled her silence. “Let me rephrase that, who doesn’t enjoy beautiful art? Can you think of a single person?”

“I understand your point, grandpa,” she said with a grin, which he easily returned when he felt his words getting through to her, “I just want to be desirable to you, that’s all.”

That statement made him stare a little blankly at her. He knew of her feelings of inadequacy, which he’d promptly tried to squash multiple times before, but undesirable? He doesn’t know a time when he ever lacked desire for her, in fact there were many days where his desire for her proved troublesome. The word “silly” sits on the tip of his tongue but he bites it back. She needed more than a knee jerk comment. She deserved his understanding.

“Cara mia, I’ve been around for a very long time. I’ve seen nearly everything, so nearly nothing is exciting to me now,�� his voice lowered, and his head leaned in, “and yet, you fill me with exhilaration even at the mere thought of you. And this is only heightened by how much of you I still have yet to discover. The men in this mansion need to have seen a good thing to finally understand just how good it is. But for me I find-”

Before he could finish his thought, before his hand could finish its journey up her arm and before his lips could reach their final destination upon hers, her eyes widened so wide Leonardo nearly felt reason for concern.

“I HAVE THE BEST IDEA,” she shot up from her place, nearly taking out a pile of her books as she dashed to the door, “THANK YOU, LEONARDO!”

Leonardo was almost dumbfounded at the abrupt explosion, but the thought of mischief he had accidentally facilitated was enough to satiate the disappointment that lingered for only a moment. Nevermind, he’ll prove his previous point to her later.

But for now, he picked his book back up and continued reading, his lips curled in a satisfied smirk at the possibilities of what her wonderful brain would come up with. He knew he was in for a treat, and possibly, so were the rest of the mansion.

He felt smug, however, knowing he would be the only one who’d get to taste it.

***

She flew through the halls of the mansion with ease, her mind fixed on one thing and one thing alone. She reached Leonardo’s bedroom, which had been more or less shared in recent months. She had her own space too, but she simply preferred being in his. She preferred his random, almost illegible notes scattered across his wall, and preferred the subtle smell of pencil shavings, well loved candles and fresh flowers that sat on his windowsill. He only started doing that last one when he met her, she imagined. His room never looked the same as it did when she first entered it, and he never looked more comfortable in it, either.

She left the prickling feeling of nostalgia at the door and immediately moved to his chest of drawers, opening each one with great vigour. Leonardo had always said that anything in his room is fair game, that what’s his is hers. And whilst she didn’t imagine he had this particular item in mind, she felt safe in the assumption that he wouldn’t be in the least bit bothered, as he rarely was.

She had been settling into the mansion for the better part of a year now, and the days of tip-toeing around had long since passed. She had found her place, but too often was she bothered by that prickly reminder that she was inherently different. Not only as the only woman in the mansion, but as seemingly the only one who hadn’t adjusted to the era she found herself in. Certainly the only one was still fighting it.

She enjoyed her talks with Comte over tea, as he was the closest one to understanding her life before, though understanding wasn’t just what she was looking for.

And she supposes that’s how she latched onto Leonardo so fast.

Even though he didn’t have that understanding of what her life looked like before, he had this uncanny ability to trace it back to the root. He reassured and comforted her on things she didn’t realise she needed reassurance or comfort on, but she did. Leonardo knew that. Because he understood.

Everything fell into place after that.

It was easy to find what she was looking for: a pair of trousers she knew he wouldn’t miss. In fact, she doubted she’d ever seen them on him in the whole time they’d known each other. Based on the colour alone, she suspected they were a gift from Comte. Considering the sheer magnitude of their history together, she was surprised by how much they were not Leonardo’s taste. Probably an experiment from Comte. It was sweet that Leonardo kept them, though.

Sweetness aside, and with Comte’s experiment clearly concluded as a failure, she took the trousers and all but marched to Comte’s door. With only a few knocks against the wood, he called for her to enter.

The mischief was clearly written all over her face, as Comte immediately put down his papers and raised an eyebrow.

Her grin was simply delightful as she hid the trousers behind her back, “I have a small favour to ask.”

***

The breakfast hustle and bustle was the same as any other day in the mansion, though with an added buzz as Arthur relayed the events that took place a few days prior.

“Honestly, the things that woman comes up with,” he took a sip of his tea, his ocean irises peaking over the teacup at the man sat opposite to him. He placed it back down into the saucer, leaning back in his chair with an air of pride, “I must say, darling Leonardo, that you really have your work cut out for you.”

“How so?” Leonardo swirled the coffee in his cup with no sense of concern. He knew Arthur was simply playing with him and that he was completely harmless. He very well could have ignored the man, but Arthur needed to be challenged every now and then.

And Leonardo liked to play too.

“You just strike me as someone who doesn’t care for a challenge. As if you can’t be arsed with it.”

“Are you saying she’s challenging?”

Most people would have squirmed under Leonardo’s stare, but Arthur’s eyes only twinkled back at him, “Not challenging, just…troublesome.”

“I thought you liked ‘troublesome’.”

“Oh, I do,” another sip, “very much.”

It seems Comte was the only one to notice the miniscule twitch of Leonardo’s hand and the tightening grip around his cup, as he finally interrupted, “Arthur, I recognise that you’re only having your fun, but I encourage you to be more mindful about how you speak to our newest member of the mansion. She doesn’t know you too well yet, and may not understand your…ways.”

“I think the only reason you find her challenging, Arthur,” Leonardo had his arms crossed on the table, leaning in dangerously, head slightly cocked to one side, “Is because she does such a beautiful job at proving you wrong.”

Arthur smirked, “And how exactly does she do that?”

With gorgeous timing, the door to the dining room creaked open. The tension in the room fizzled out as all heads turned to the figure in the doorway, prompting jaws to drop.

The men were not used to seeing a woman in trousers, but in that split second they had almost forgotten how she’d looked wearing anything else.

Leonardo, with a brain as advanced as his, had already suspected what was happening behind the scenes, but even he was almost at a loss for words. He had seen many, many things in his life. A lot of good, and a lot of bad. A woman in trousers was far from shocking to him.

But she stood so tall, so magnificently powerful and with the cheekiest smirk he had witnessed. The emerald material sat on her figure as though she was carved from marble, as every inch was perfectly tailored to her. The power she held to have silenced a whole room and demanded their eyes’ attention. And yet, of all the eyes in the room, of all the points she was currently proving, her gaze was set on him.

He felt goosebumps tickle his spine.

He spared a quick glance at Comte, who was seemingly taking a sip of his own tea. But he would never be able to hide a smirk behind a teacup from Leonardo.

The sound of her heels hitting the floor echoed in the dining room as she made her way to Leonardo. He stood up to offer his seat, but before he could even utter a ‘good morning’, her lips were on his.

She had always been coy with affection in front of the other members of the mansion, even a simple peck would turn her cheeks rosy. But here she was, hands cupping his face as she melted into him. He didn’t dwell on it for too long, his mind going blank as he brushed his hands against the small of her back and gave her hips a light squeeze. He was moments away from deepening the kiss before she broke it off.

“Are you ready to go?,” she chirped, her smile light and easy as if she hadn’t just turned him into a puddle in her hands.

“I guess I am,” he said, giving her a wink as a silent well played.

“I suppose we’ll see you all later then,” she said to the rest of the room, who’s eyes were still fixed on her.

“Enjoy your Valentine’s Day, you two,” Comte said with a grin, “Behave, Leonardo.”

“I don’t think I’m the one you need to be saying that to, by the looks of it.”

Everyone chuckled, allowing the atmosphere to begin to settle to normal. Arthur, who’s smugness had been replaced by amicable surrender, finally spoke up, “I suppose you win this one, sweetheart.”

She smiled, “I suppose I do.”

Leonardo gave her hand a squeeze, and he felt the tension in her release. He knew that spectacle required some courage from her, and she pulled it off beautifully. He felt at peace knowing she was getting closer and closer to settling in completely, without having to leave any part of herself at the door.

***

Bonus:

Mozart: At least you didn't have to listen to her explain fan fiction.

Arthur: Fan fiction?

Napoleon: It's fictional writing based on existing characters or real people.

Arthur: Oh, so like the Sherlock Holmes collection?

Sebastian: I beg your pardon-

[xbalayage]

A Hidden Feeling

Silvio/Reader

WC: 1,055

A/N: This is my gift for @violettduchess for @ikemenlibrary's gift exchange! I haven't been much into the fandom anymore and I apologize for that! But thank you Bryn for hosting such a fun exchange that I got to be a part of and even though I haven't written Silvio in a while, I hope this turned out okay! ❤️

You didn't expect a man on the streets of Rhodolite to pay you any mind, let alone a whole prince from another country. Now, he's offering you what he considers a “once in a lifetime” deal to be in a fake relationship with him. The circumstances were that his father was getting sick of him and needed him to find a suitable wife and produce an heir, but the woman chosen was… not at all his type. Just the same kind of woman he'd toy around with for fun and that was it. Definitely not one he'd even consider himself marrying!

“Look, we both get somethin’ out of this. Ya get my old man off my back and you get a chance to be with me.”

By his logic, it seemed only he was benefiting from this. But even through his brash behavior, you couldn't help having a massive crush on him for the longest time now, completely enamored by the man portrayed in his books about his adventures.

You both sat as a cozy little tea/diner place in Rhodolite for him to unleash his idea on you, stealing you away from both Rio and the other princes to try and convince you of this crazy scheme of his. And, you'd hate to admit it, but after sipping the delicious tea the establishment had to offer, you gave him a smile. "Sure, I can do that for you.”

The look on his face was priceless. He expected a smart comment,  a sneer, your usual back talk but ... you actually agreed? If only you could take a picture to frame and hang it on your wall, you'd hate to forget the expression of complete dumbfoundedness.

" ... What's the catch? Why'd you go and just agree so easily? That's not like ya.”

Of course, he'd be confused. But you couldn't help the easy, amused chuckle that escaped, his face reddening in embarrassment. It's cute that he thought he had you pegged.

"Simple! I choose all we do today and you have to comply! Easy enough, right?" He'd shoot an uneasy glare your way but forfeit any argument. Time was of the essence and he didn't have time to try and find another noblewoman to take your place.

The day started in the gardens; the sweet floura wafted the surrounding air with its springtime presence, the sun beaming down on them like a warm hug to welcome them. They sat quietly on a bench as the breeze tickled their hair, swaying in a dance upon the wind. Some flower petals were spared from their buds to drift silently past. The simpleness helped relax your mind as you lul your eyes closed to absorb it all in. Silvio laid casually with his arm behind the bench behind you, not truly understanding the silent take of the beginning of the date but couldn't help himself to stare at you and your beauty as you sat picturesque amongst the scene before him.

That's when ... you first started to catch his eye. Granted, he's always had an eye on you from afar. From the way you held yourself to how you spoke to other people, always baring your heart on your sleeve for the world to see. How could you be so brazen and careless to show your weakest point? He didn't understand it. But, it piqued his curiosity about you. His sea ridden glaze stayed on you for the longest ... until your eyes fluttered open did he make sure his stare turned away.

Your smile was brighter than the sun on the coldest days. The nervous chuckle you expressed was like the melody to his favorite song. Your touch upon his hand to lead him away to your next location sent shivers of goosebumps along his skin and your eyes, those hinted of warm chocolate ravaged his heart unhealthy.

What ... exactly was this feeling? What was wrong with him? For now, he bottled it down.

You tugged him along to the vendor stands in town, elated to show him every little incentive Rhodolite had to offer from their foods down to the littlest of trinkets. He ... smiled at your childlike excitement for your hometown and all it had to offer. Once the distraction was over, you turned to him and noticed that handsome smile and thought, "why doesn't he smile like that more?”

Surprisingly, he held your gaze for but a moment with that smile before he realized what he'd been doing, quickly turning away with a tint of red dusted on his cheeks. He brushed the expression off to claim some excuse but you didn't mind at all. It ... seemed like he was enjoying himself.

As the day trinkled to sunset and the sky had painted itself into hues of pink and orange, the last spot you had in mind was to get into a small boat and relax on the waters; on some occasions, Rhodolite would shoot fireworks at night during some celebrations and luckily, they were going off tonight. You thought it would be a perfect end to an adventurous day.

He didn't deny the idea and continued to observe you quietly through your energetic rambles and explanations, finding himself more relaxed with you and a smile always tugging at the edge of his lips. It was then he knew as the sparkle in your eyes looked to him once more, something he'd been keeping in his heart and denying a possibility of happening, that he had ... feelings or even, love for you.

Eyes stared at one another in silence as the moments passed, neither of you daring to look away. You both felt it, huh? That warm feeling in your stomachs as your hearts raced. Silvio went on a whim and reacted. His hand carefully reached to cup your face with both of his hands, looking again into your eyes for approval before he swallowed his pride and leaned in, allowing his lips to collide with yours.

In that moment, the sounds and colors of fireworks sketched themselves across the skies, falling like fireflies around you. The kiss lasted like a lifetime, like hearts had mended into one. No words were exchanged, lips never parted and hearts never stopped racing. That's when he knew, without a doubt.

He was in love with you and everything you were.

[midwinterrmemento]

Flower Language

➢ pairing: Leonardo x MC [Ikemen Vampire]

➢ word count: 1,413

⚠️ content warnings: None!

This is my entry for @ikemenlibrary's Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange, dedicated to @sunnyikemen! I have never written for Leo before, but I had a lot of fun with his character, and I hope that I did well enough to make for an enjoyable read at least! Happy belated Valentine's Day, Sunny, and here is some Leo fluff for you :)

Being around the most famous polymath in history, there was always a new surprise in store.

Leonardo da Vinci seemed to know everything about everything. Perhaps it was because of his endless knowledge, gathered over the course of centuries, or perhaps it was because of the air of ease that surrounded him—but it did not escape his notice how the newest resident of the manor seemed to gravitate toward him upon her unexpected arrival. 

He never denied her his company. At first, because he knew she was frightened and disoriented.

For a girl who had found herself transported into another time period in the blink of an eye, there was only uncertainty around every corner. Yet Leonardo's breezy personality and apparent ability to handle anything with minimal effort brought her security, as well as distraction. He knew this, and so he made it a note to help her throughout her time in the manor, keeping her mind off her troubles.

You're restless and wish to get out of the manor, cara mia? Well, then, let's take a day outside Paris. The French countryside is an equally worthy sight for a time traveler, and it'd be a shame not to have you visit. Hm? Where to? Well, it's no fun if I tell you all the details, now, is it? 

How to paint, you ask? Why, you wish to prove a point to Theo? Ha! Don't pay him too much mind, 'knabbeltje' is merely a term of endearment, I'm sure. But if you really wish to learn, then I am glad to be of service, morso mio. ...Hm, no, of course that's not the same as what Theo says. Would you accuse me of such a thing? 

So, you want to hear about Florence back in those days, then. I hope this isn't because of any gossip you heard from the noble Comte. ...Alright, alright. Come, sit. I suppose I ought to make an effort to salvage my good name, at least.

Days turned into weeks of trying to make himself available to her, helping her calm down and settle into her new life at the mansion. He had sworn to himself that was all it was. But as wary as he knew to be of the passage of time, somehow he found it creeping up on him again. Even after she was already well settled, he continually found himself at her side, as if naturally drawn there.

He didn't realize until too late, one afternoon when they were sitting out in the mansion's gardens together.

A certain flower had caught her eye—a yellow daisy—and Leonardo had commented, absentmindedly, "Ah, yes. Joy and friendship."

It was an innocent remark, accompanied by a little chuckle. It made sense to him that this should be the flower that struck her. He had come to associate her with such qualities, after all, because they were what she brought to him. Every little inconsequential story he shared with her, every time he allowed her to watch him paint and work, every time he whisked her out on some spontaneous excursion, it was often met with that look of intrigue, that little excited glimmer in her eyes. 

Yet he was somewhat surprised when his passive comment earned him that same look.

Humming to herself, her eyes scanned over the other flowers in the garden and came to rest on another. “And that one?” She nodded her head towards the flower in question.

“Which, the marigold?” 

She glanced back at him expectantly and nodded once more, seeming quite eager to hear his explanation. Leonardo, now acutely aware that he was being tested, smiled a little.

“Marigolds represent grief. Or the passage from one life to the next.”

“Really? But they seem so much brighter, warmer…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you doubting me, cara mia?”

And for that remark, he found himself rewarded with soft laughter. Despite himself, and despite everything he had assured himself about maintaining his distance, he could not help but feel his heart squeeze. Spending an idyllic afternoon wandering around the mansion’s garden, chatting among the flowers as they bloomed with the new season, it all felt so warm. 

“No, no…” She shook her head, still smiling. “It’s just unbelievable, that’s all…”

“So you are doubting me.” Leonardo tsked in faux disapproval, savoring the little back-and-forth of the moment. “Alright, now it’s a challenge, then. Ask me about another.”

Looking around again, she settled on a vibrant purple bud and pointed to it. 

“Ah, crocuses stand for young love,” he answered knowingly. “There is an old Greek legend that Crocus was a mortal lover of Hermes, and the god was so devastated when he died that he had him transformed into a flower. The red on the inside, there, is supposed to represent his blood.”

She seemed quite taken by the story as he explained. Ah, he would never tire of seeing that look on her face, when she was so absorbed in what he was saying, when he knew she was hanging on every word. But arguably, it was even better to watch her fluster when he concluded his tale with a triumphant smirk.

“Alright, don’t get too arrogant, now.” She pointed to another flower. “What about that one?”

“Sweetpea, gratitude.”

“And the lily?”

“Purity.”

“And the white camellia?”

“You’re adorable.”

For a moment, silence fell between them. Even the great polymath had his limits, and he did not realize what he was saying—or how it would be construed—until he glanced at her curiously and found her staring back at him.

Oh.

“No, I mean…” He coughed. “That… is what the flower means.”

She blinked. Quickly returning to her senses, she began to shake her head, as if to simply laugh off the misunderstanding. “Yes, right.”

For as much as he was inclined to laugh along with her, however, he found himself unable to do so. Once more he felt his heart squeeze in his chest—though this time, it was a more uncomfortable feeling. Uncomfortable in a familiar, sinking way.

“Well, anyway… I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you’ve studied flower language at some point as well. You’ve studied practically everything else,” she said, attempting to keep the mood light and teasing. “At times I wonder, is there anything you don’t know?”

Leonardo found himself staring at her a moment longer, somewhat troubled by that old feeling in his chest, and taken aback by the realization that he did, in fact, find her quite adorable. Not wanting to keep her waiting for a response, lest she start to suspect there was something on his mind, he sighed and managed a little smile.

“...Actually, cara mia… There are plenty of things I don’t know.”

With that, he reached over and carefully plucked one of the little flowers nearby. He tucked the flower behind her ear, grinning with satisfaction as he watched her demeanor brighten again. 

“Hm, that’s better.”

“That was a pink camellia, right?” She gazed back at him with that curious look he loved so much to see on her.

“Maybe so.”

An ambiguous response, as if he had simply chosen the flower at random, when they both knew that wasn’t the case.

“What does that one mean, then?”

Something in Leonardo’s grin became a bit more wistful. There was another beat of silence, and then, suddenly, he reached out and lightly ruffled her hair.

“...I concede defeat,” he said, after pretending to think for a moment. “I’ve forgotten.”

Laughing at his actions as she tried to fix her hair, she seemed quite pleased by the thought of having gotten one over on him. So pleased that—much to his relief—she let it drop, and did not question him any further about the flower’s meaning.

Leonardo watched her smiling, standing in the sun with a flower in her mussed-up hair, and studied her as though she were one of the wonders of the world. There was no longer any doubt in his mind as to what exactly this feeling was, weighing so heavily upon his heart. And there was no doubt that he had chosen the right flower to express it. 

Even if he could never say it to her face—his lovely Crocus, who had so miraculously appeared in his life across time and space, and who was bound to one day return to her own world beyond that door—he could not deny it.

This unspeakable feeling, represented by a pink camellia.

I long for you.

[ikemenlibrary]

Ikémen Prince Gift Exchange Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who chose to participate in this event and helped make it a success! Everyone is so talented, and I am in awe of all of you <3 Going through all your pieces have been truly enjoyable and I've loved every minute of it!

Prove It To Me | Jin Grandet x Reader | by @nightghoul381 for xxsycamore

They Say Distance Makes The Heart Grow Fonder | Nokto Klein x Emma (MC) | by @xxsycamore for nightghoul381

Unaccepted Together | Clavis Lelouch x Reader | by @nightghoul381 for scummy-writes

Autumn Daze | Gilbert Von Obsidian x MC | by @scummy-writes for daegupaksu

A Starry Tryst (Artwork) | Nokto Klein x Noele (OC) | by @daegupaksu for drachonia

Sea at Sunrise (Artwork) | Silvio Ricci x MC | by @drachonia for nightghoul381

Bookmarked Dialogue | Keith Howell x Julie (OC) | by @ikemenlibrary for queengiuliettafirstlady

The Gentle Stag Rewrites The Stars | Keith Howell x MC | by @queengiuliettafirstlady for ridiculouslly-ridiculous

Princess Picnic Pick Me Up | Rio Ortiz, Clavis Lelouch, Silvio Ricci, Gilbert Von Obsidian, MC | by @ridiculouslly-ridiculous for misty-moth

Peter Clavis and the Lost Boys (Artwork) | Clavis Lelouch, Nokto Klein, Luke Randolph | by @misty-moth for pondlilies00

Take a Rest (Artwork) | Sariel Noir x MC | by @pondlilies00 for alydra (bluejay-writes)

This is fine. | Chevalier Michel x MC | by @bluejay-writes for randonauticrap

Ember Glows the Heart | Leon Dompteur x MC/Reader | by @randonauticrap for myonlyjknight

A Clavish Day Off | Clavis Lelouch x MC | by @myonlyjknight for claviscollections

Petrichor | Yves Kloss x MC/Reader | by @claviscollections for pillowpillowillow

The Voyager Prince (Artwork) | Silvio Ricci | by @pillowpillowillo for aquilapolariz

In Business, In Life | Silvio Ricci x Hyacinth (OC) | by @aquilapolariz for tacogawa

La Belle et la Bête (Artwork) | Leon Dompteur x MC | by @tacogawa for kokorokai

The Tyrant's New Wife (Artwork) | Silvio Ricci x Airin D'Avalos (OC) | by @kokorokai for airin-queenz

Chilly Morning's Date | Licht Klein x MC | by @airin-queenz for ikemenlibrary

Read to Me | Chevalier Michel x MC | by @ikeromantic for aquagirl1978

What Was I Made For | Gilbert Von Obsidian x Rosemary (OC) | by @aquagirl1978 for prisoniclover

Return | Leon Dompteur x Emma (MC) | by @prisoniclover for chirp-a-chirp

Cat-astrophe | Clavis Lelouch x MC | by @chirp-a-chirp (with art by @aide-falls) for katriniac (ohtomatotome)

Getting There is Half the Fun | Keith Howell x Emma (MC) | by @ohtomatotome for violettduchess

Practical Magic | Clavis Lelouch x Emma (MC) | by @violettduchess for ikeromantic

[violettduchess]

A/N: My first Ikevil fic! I loved Harry's route and figured why not ease into writing him by starting with a kiss 💋

Harrison x Reader

WC: 500

Note: I only tagged people who have previously asked to be tagged in everything. If you want to specifically be tagged in Ikemen Villains fics/headcanons, please let me know!

You might think that if you found a man reading by firelight, settled into an expensive leather Ottoman the color of burnished copper, he would be drinking whiskey. Or maybe wine. A rich Irish single malt or perhaps layered, velvety Merlot.

But not your Harry.

He’s drinking strawberry milk. 

The sight of it has laughter bubbling out of you, a soft, almost musical sound and he looks up, his wintergreen eyes suddenly bright as he watches you set down your evening clutch and approach him. The missive he was reading slips from his long fingers, flutters down onto the thick burgundy carpet. There are other, far more important matters that require his attention now.

He reaches for you, strong hands gripping the line of your waist as you boldly straddle his lap, your voluminous maroon skirt spreading across him like a blossoming flower. His smile is slow and unhurried when you lean down, touching your forehead to his. You lock your fingers behind his neck, breathing in the familiar, tangy scent of mint.

“They kept you out far too late,” he murmurs, his voice enveloping you like the softest of cashmere.

“I’m here now,” you answer, falling into the pastel tenderness of his gaze, struck for the hundredth time by just how beautiful he is. You glance over at the glass of pale pink milk he’s set down on the end table. “How’s your nightcap?” You’re teasing him and he loves it.

Gently pulling you closer, his eyes flutter closed like a butterfly closing its brilliant wings. “C’mere and have a taste.”

His lips are sweet, like strawberries kissed by summer sunshine. His palms slide down to feel the curve of your hip through your skirt, his grip tightening, pulling you closer still. Your hands unlock and you wrap both arms fully around him, melting into the hard planes of his body. He kisses you slowly, as if he has all the time in the world, a hedonist indulging himself in the most heady of pleasures. He savors each kiss, languid and almost lazy in the movement of his lips, the slide of his tongue against yours. 

“Harry…” His name, that cherished and precious word, is a whisper, a twinkle of starlight in the night. Twin tendrils of the softest affection and the brightest desire are twined around it. He drops his head, burying his face into the warm curve of your neck, pressing his lips against the place where your heart is drumming just for him. He doesn’t need to open his eyes because in your arms, there is nothing but truth. He feels it in the way your fingers push their way through his tawny hair. He hears it in the stuttering breath that escapes you. He tastes it on your lips and smells it on your skin.

He rises, effortlessly lifting you into his arms, holding you close against his chest as his long legs swallow the distance to your bedroom. You cling to him, press a kiss to his cheek as he carries you, not caring where you’re going. 

After all, in his arms, you are always home.

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

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @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

[bicayaya]

how to take care of a sick mc

for the my ikemen valentine gift exchange i did this drawing for @pillowpillowillo 💚

altale, you suggested “taking care of each other” for a fic, but i found it cute and tried adapting it in an artwork. my idea was that MC got sick, so both keiths are taking care of her (in their own way, hahah). in the end, they ended up falling asleep together! i hope you’ll like it 💞

thank you @ikemenlibrary for hosting this adorable exchange 💗 i had a great time joining it!!

[pondlilies00]

A Trip Away

My gift for @maeko-kun for the Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange! I couldn't come up with a good background for where Nokto and MC would vacation so I've drawn them about to go on their trip instead. Where they're going is a secret just for them

Thank you @ikemenlibrary for hosting this event!