A/N: This Is A Joint Effort By Myself And @thewitchofbooks Who I Reached Out To After Falling For Her

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

✨Taglist Clean Up! ✨

Hi to everyone who reads this blog 💜

Before things really get moving with all the end of the year activities, I wanted to do a taglist check.

🌟If you want to remain on my taglist, just respond to this post. It can be a heart or a comment. If there is no response of any kind within a few days, I will remove you, no questions asked.🌟

If you are NOT on my taglist and would like to be added, please leave a comment on this post or DM me 💜

Here's is an unamused Chev Christmas kitten as a thank you for reading:

Something's on the way.....right @thewitchofbooks ? 😉 ❄️🎁

Mistletoe Not Required

Mistletoe Not Required 

Fandom: IkeRev

Pairing: Zero x F!Reader 

Prompt: Enchanted Evenings Day 19: Thigh Riding &  Tis The Season for Love: “A kiss under the mistletoe doesn’t have to be where we stop." 

Type: NSFW - Minors DNI 

CW: thigh riding, palming, fingering, orgasms 

WC: 850+

Tagging: @thewitchofbooks​ , @queen-dahlia​ , @kissmetwicekissmedeadly​ , @aquagirl1978 , @devildomwritersposts , @canaria-blackwell , @ikesimp100 , @kpop-and-otome​ , @sarahann-1984 , @citizensofcradle , @littlewitty , @curious-skybunny , @lordsisterxotome , @ikehoe , @psychodreamer666 ,  @kkkramba, @tele86 - If your name is crossed out I was unable to tag you. If you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know or fill out this form here.

An: Since I am still playing catch up with my Enchanted Evenings requests, I decided to combine them with the amazing Tis the Season of Love event hosted by the wonderful @voltage-vixen​ and @xxsycamore​. I hope you enjoy!! 

Keep reading

Christmas in Cradle 2022

Due to what we knew was coming and the official announcement in Ikerev EN, I have created a Ikerev specific Event. 

This is open to everyone to join if they want to and I am open to requests for this Event. I will not be limiting which prompts or IkeRev suitors I do. 

Please just tell me the pairing and the rating, all of these are open to both fluff and smut prompts. 

I am open to writing suitor/suitor, suitor/mc/suitor, suitor/mc  suitor/OC ( only mine), or suitor/kid. 

Christmas in Cradle 2022

December 10th - December 31st 

Keep reading

chevalier and prompt 3 🥺❤️

A/N: My first entry for @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore 's Tis The Season for Love Content Creation Challenge

Chevalier x Reader

Word Count: 754

“I do not understand the need for a Christmas tree in the salon. Your efforts have resulted in a tree as tall as four men in the palace foyer as well as one in the gardens, not to mention the tree we traditionally provide in the town square.” His royal highness King Chevalier Michel is standing in the doorway of the aforementioned salon, watching as you artfully toss handfuls of shiny gold tinsel across branches bedecked with porcelain bells, golden orbs, shimmery iridescent ornaments that look almost like bubbles, and a massive string of white pearls winding from the top to the bottom of the dark green fir.

“Because,” you say cheerfully as gold tinsel flies from your fingertips, “it gives the room a nice, cozy holiday feeling.”

He snorts, crossing his arms across his chest. Clearly he does not share your opinion. Your tinsel has run out and so you turn toward the wooden box resting on the couch, shooting him a look. “Huff all you like but you put me in charge of decorating because you did not want to bother with something so trivial AND because you did not want Clavis booby-trapping all the decorations again.”

“Black nearly had a heart-attack last year when the tree ornaments started exploding,” Chevalier murmured.

You nod, remembering as you open the wooden box and carefully remove the golden star tree topper. “And Sariel was furious at all the green dye in the fountains.”

“Four Eyes is always furious about something,” Chevalier states as he watches you walk back toward the tree you had placed in the back corner of the salon. He must admit, it does compliment the darker tones of the room and you have done a fine job decorating it in angelic white and gold. Now as you approach the tree, a slow grin pulls on the corner of his mouth.

“You cannot reach the top.”

He sounds far too amused for his own good, you think as you assess the tree. The top is rather high but it isn’t like its giant cousins in the town square or downstairs in the foyer. This one is about as tall as Chevalier and you can reach up and push your fingers through that pale, silken hair without trouble.

“Of course I can.” Think tall thoughts. Pine trees. The palace spires. Luke. Slowly, you raise yourself up onto your toes, stretch out your arm, and will the heavy star-shaped golden tree topper to reach the top. Not.....quite.....your toes are beginning to hurt, screaming at you that they have reached their limit. Your arm is starting to shake, a weary soldier with only a few last gasps of air left before it collapses. Just....ugh....a...half a centimeter.....the topper brushes the tip of Christmas tree in the very faintest of kisses. Come on....argghhh.....

And then something hard is gripping your waist, your aching toes leave the wooden floor and your arm manages one final act of bravery as it sets the topper onto the tree before falling, exhausted, to your side. For a moment you are at height with the golden star, floating in the air like the spirit of Christmas itself, suspended above the tree in all of its now complete glory. You gasp softly as the sight, your eyes trained on the star even as you slowly sink back down to earth, your feet coming to rest on the floor once again.

Chevalier’s hands slide from your waist, forward, wrapping around you and pulling you back against him. You lean back into him, admiring your handiwork. Even in the thin winter light pouring in through the arched window, the tree shines, a celestial wonder with its white and gold ornaments, glistening tinsel and of course, the majestic Christmas star at the very top, twinkling proudly.

“Thank you,” you sigh happily as you hug his arms against you, nestling against the wide, comforting feel of his chest at your back.  He lowers his head, pressing a kiss to your temple before speaking. “I was correct in my assertion that you are too short.”

A smile, soft as snowfall, bright as moonlight, crosses your lips as you turn your head to look up at the man you love.

“I seem to fit here,” you snuggle even closer against him, pulling his arms more tightly around your midsection, “just fine.”

He laughs, a quiet sound as smooth and fine as velvet. “That you do.” Another kiss, this time to your cheek. “That you do.”

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 @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart