KEITH HOWELL ROUTE SPOILERS WARNING!

⚠️KEITH HOWELL ROUTE SPOILERS WARNING!⚠️

I noticed something in his story, which made me wonder (I will put it under the cut!):

When he started telling Mc the reason his second personality was born, he thought back to the past. Keep in mind that Keith is many times called a "tree" by the rest of the characters (and even his little bird believes in that).

It was mentioned by Gilbert how he (Keith) lost someone very precious to him before, which shows the importance his little brother (Tio) had in his life.

Now back to the flashback, Keith was running with his little brother through the unknown, scary forest, until he noticed a tree that was hollow, and he hid him there, telling him to not leave. But Tio wanted to protect him as well, knowing the burden Keith carried all this time from the pressure put on him, so when Keith was on the ground and ready for the sword of the enemy to kill him, he felt the weight of his brother, who got killed instead.

This made me think how that the tree truly represented Keith and how he feels about his brother. He was "hollow", but happy he could protect him, and the tree protected Tio inside it. It was as if his life became "full". Yet, the moment Tio left, the tree became hollow again, and it's how Keith feels for the loss of his brother, and his inability to make their promise with each other to come true.

Just a random thing🥲

Hi I saw kiss request were open and I really wanted to ask please can you do a kiss with Luke ? Thank you Have a Wonderful day ☺

They did @vivifucksthevillian but it was older and I had forgotten. (I'm so sorry lovely @queengiuliettafirstlady). Here it is, for you both 💜

Luke x Reader

Word Count: 404

Honey. 

When Luke reaches for you, his eyes soft as the green hills in springtime, hands a paradox of size and gentleness, the sweet feeling that spreads slowly through your limbs can only be compared to the thing he loves most, after you. His strong, calloused palms cup your face with a fragile tenderness one wouldn’t expect from a man of his size. He’s careful, his movements slow, a large beast treading softly so as not to disturb the sleeping fawn in the underbrush. Maybe his deliberate care stems from his surprise that he is allowed and encouraged to touch you like this. That you are willingly and wholeheartedly his. Maybe he’s more of a beast upon whose paw a delicate butterfly has landed, and he moves slow as syrup, in order not to scare this wonder of beauty away.

But you are no delicate butterfly. 

You slide onto his lap, wrapping your own strong arms around his broad shoulders. You are the one who leans forward and captures his lips in a kiss meant to burn away any hesitation, any doubt. He has won the prize of your love and you want him to feel what that means. That under his strength, you won’t shatter, but flourish and meet that power with a ferocity of your own. You kiss him with the force of your desire, your fingers diving into the flame of his hair, grasping the soft strands. His lips part in a soundless gasp and you, opportunist, take advantage of it, eager to taste him. He is warm and sweet, carrying the faint, sugary taste of his beloved honey on his tongue. Your hands, though small, are a vice, holding him still so you can chase the ghostly essence of that sweetness. 

He submits to you easily, his body lax and at your command. Your hands leave the silken jungle of his hair, travel the broad steppes of his shoulders, and end with your fingertips dancing across the wide plain of his chest. His heart thunders under your touch, a wild animal bucking against his breastbone. You press your palm against it, your kiss slowing from the glare of bright wildfire to the slow, steady warmth of glowing embers. Your mouth closes and you press your lips to his, sweetly. Once. Twice. His body shudders under yours, a tremor of emotion rocking his long limbs, love settling itself into your foundation.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart

A/N: I think like many Gilbert fans, this CG just really struck me. I do not read the Japanese app so I only had the vaguest idea of what is happening but I don't think that matters too much. This is just hoping to capture a feeling, more than plot.

Gilbert x Reader

Word Count: 380

Your arms encircle his waist like the glowing rings of some distant planet. Your cheek presses against the supple darkness of his cloak, above his shoulder blade while your heart burns with the wild yearning to somehow slide right through the material and sink into that intangible coolness of his very essence. The sumptuous black fur of his collar brushes wispy kisses against the skin of your forehead, soft and luxurious. You wonder if his lips would feel as decadent.

He does not move away. His tall, lean body is still, although his blood rushes through his veins with the flare of emotion the press of your arms has ignited.

Is this possible? Are you really embracing him, holding him as close as the protective night sky does its beloved moon? The shadow of a smile crosses his beautiful lips.

He now knows you have missed him.

His expression softens, the sharp lines of his face melting into the radiance of starshine. It is a face schooled at wearing a mask of cutting smiles and one watchful red eye that flickers with a flame of dangerous intelligence, with the diamond glaze of resolve. But as he looks at you over his shoulder, that eye is full of rose-red, petal-soft tenderness. You who reached in, past the thorny brambles of uncertainty, to warm him with the sunshine of your affection, the gently curling tendrils of acceptance and understanding making their way between heavy stones and cracking the carefully constructed walls around his heart.

They crumble with every passing moment he is held in your arms until he finally turns, his fingers in their soft black leather catching your chin, tipping your face up so he can see you, drinking in the sight of you the way a believer would an effigy of the divine. 

Your lips part, his name escaping your heart, riding the soft exhale of breath from your lungs.

He is surrounded by rubble, encircled by the dust of his defenses as they disintegrate. The sound of “Gilbert” whispered so delicately has undone him. He bends, a willow in the wind, enfolding you within the velvet shadows of his arms and captures your mouth with his, giving you a taste of cool, intoxicating ambrosia.

You sink into his arms, a soul chosen to enter Elysium by way of Gilbert’s immaculate kiss.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @joiedecombat @bubblexly @tele86

A/N: This is a joint effort by myself and @thewitchofbooks who I reached out to after falling for her beautiful art. A gifted creator and a super Gilbert fan? Perfect 💜

The title of this fic comes from the well-known Robert Frost poem

Gilbert x female Reader

Holiday / winter fluff

Word Count: 1068

Obsidian is the opposite of Rhodolite. If your home country is soft, velvet roses and rolling green hills and trees staggering under the weight of the fruit they bear, then Obsidian is bushes with sharp, hungry thorns, dusty, cracked earth and trees that look utilitarian at best and menacing at worst. But Mother Nature has a secret, a way to equalize them both: snow. Snow covers the idyllic hills and small villages and gardens the same way it does stone houses, empty fields and barren trees. Snow brings beauty to even the harshest of places.

When you had stopped at the tall, arched windows and seen the blanket of white laid out before you, gleaming despite a wan sunlight muted by voluminous, gray velvet clouds, there was only one person you wanted to rush outside and experience it with.

He agreed readily, setting aside the day’s papers and letters and worries for something just as important, something vital to giving him the strength to continue with all those papers and letters and worries. Time with you.

Now you walk, arm in arm, over the soft snow, following the path that runs along the meager grain fields behind the palace. To your left looms the forest, black-barked trees with bare, spindly arms reaching for the heavens, bedecked in layers of sparkling white.

Gilbert is quiet, his red eye taking in the landscape, black boots ringed with clingy snow. You tighten your grip on his arm. If you were a snowflake, you would cling to him too, this man born of winter, whose skin is as pale and soft as the world around you. And as cold. However you know that under those layers of heavy black fabric and ornate gold and leather is a winter landscape that has trembled at your touch, melted under the heat of your mouth, and flushed at the movement of skin against skin. 

“This way,” he says, breaking the silence. “There’s something I want to show you.” Your arms unlock but his hand finds you, threading his leather-gloved fingers through yours. He leads you onto a small, narrow path that turns left, weaving its way through the trees. At first sight they loomed ominously, a vague sense of foreboding radiating from their bare branches. But now, walking through them, hand in hand, there is something that feels more akin to safety, as if the forest was sheltering you instead of warning you. 

He stops walking, raising one arm to point upwards. “There. This is what I wanted to show you.” You follow the long line of his arm up until you spot them. Nestled within the bare branches of the trees are bright green bushels of leaves dotted with tiny white berries. There is something almost whimsical about it, the vivid green amongst the dark, empty branches against the gray sky. 

“Do you recognize it?” Gilbert walks around, stopping behind you in order to wrap his arms around your middle, holding you against him. You lean back, tilting your head until it rests against his shoulder, gaze still admiring the view. There is something familiar about those plants. That vibrant green with its small bright white pearls. While you are thinking things over, racking your brain to place them, he lowers his head, his cheek pressed against yours. You can feel the smile on his face. “Really, Häschen? I thought you would know it immediately. After all….” He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “It is one of your favorite holiday traditions.”

Those words suddenly take the vague ideas swimming around in your mind and sharpen them, lock them in place to create something recognizable.

“That’s mistletoe!” Wonder fills you as you look at the beautiful green gifting the gray landscape with vibrant color. “I’ve never seen it in the wild before.”

“Mm hm.” He’s decided your gaze has been up in the trees long enough. He wants those luminous eyes on him. Sliding his hands to your waist, he turns you until you’re facing him, lips curved artfully. “And what did you explain to me one does under mistletoe?”

Something warm blooms inside you, a joy at the sultry, teasing note in his voice, a thrill at the way his hands are holding you tightly against him. You thought the green of the mistletoe leaves was beautiful within the panorama of gray and white surrounding you, but now, the jeweled red of his eye, glinting with the promise of something inciting, is the most exquisite color in sight.

“We are surrounded by an awful lot of mistletoe, my love” you murmur even as his hands leave your side to cup your face, the feel of those soft leather gloves as dear and familiar to you as his skin. The gesture, though gentle, still sings of his possessive nature. You wrap your fingers slowly around his wrists, holding him. You can be possessive too. He leans down slowly, his gaze still on you, your lips only a breath away from his. He smiles and you feel it, the power it has, the way it fills your heart and the space between heart beats. He is as essential to you as air under a bird’s wing or water to the creatures of the deep. 

“Then I suppose,” he says softly, “that one kiss will not be enough.” His voice pours molten gold into your ears and sends a ripple of warmth across your skin. 

“Probably not,” you whisper in answer. And then your lips touch, a metamagnetic force pulling you together, irresistible and inescapable. His lips are soft and cool against the warmth of your kiss. You feel the way he melts under the movement of your mouth, like snowflakes when they fall on flushed skin. Gilbert is cool starlight over a snow-covered field, the glimmer of frost when it kisses the petal’s edge. The air around you may be chilled, but the point of contact where your mouths meet is a warm spring from which love and lust are reborn, over and over again, with each and every kiss.

Wrapped up in each other, neither of you notices the soft fall of snowflakes as they begin tumbling from the smoky clouds, small, cold, feathery flakes that land on your clothes, your hair, adorning you and all that surrounds you in soft, heavenly white. 

A benediction. 

A blessing.

Artwork by the incredible @thewitchofbooks 💜 Thank you for working with me, Nadia. I am so grateful you had the time and so in awe of your talent.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly @joiedecombat

Hello amazing Violet! 💖 I hope you have a great day and I'm also wishing you'll feel better soon!🥺

For the writes ask: Do you have a favourite fic you wrote?

Hello sweet Nadia!

Picking one is really hard but one that I can definitely say is a favorite is this one:

Devoted Affection- Comte de St Germain

It came out exactly the way I wanted it to and that's always a nice feeling.

🎊Happy birthday Gilbert!🎊