HONK

HONK

Fishbert

-invasive species

-no known predators, few would dare because of it's highly venomous nature.

You can still pet it. Once.

-prefers to live in rocky habitats that allow it to camouflage with ease (Obsidian)

-"Because of their voracious appetite and invasive patterns, there is growing concern over their impact on many tropical habitats around the globe." The trampling beast of the deep blue

-enormous stomach capacities due to its voracious appetite (can expand up to 30 times it's regular size)

-is a creature of the night

-causes infinite problems and is a constant nuisance to everyone around it, even it's own species.

-marine biologists are losing their minds with its expansion rates- from nonexistent to downright intrusive

-is a bit of a troll you see

Yanno what. I think I wanna tease him a lil today. Gilbert. 18.

(Best wishes and congratulations, your grace~💜 pff okay that was cheesy. But i have more. You are a beacon of light in this fandom and an inspiration)

Love, V <3

A/N: here you go @vioisgoinginsane !! I💜 you to the moon and back.

Gilbert x reader; (obviously not canon)

Word Count: 1010

You’re waiting in his study. Surrounded by the dark wooden bookshelves filled to the brim with thick, leather-bound tomes on every subject under the sun, from romantic poetry to geographical histories to religious treatises, you sit comfortably in his heavy wooden chair, its soft, black leather padding reminding you of the gloves he always wears. You recall the feel of them on the slope of your cheek, the way he trailed the back of his fingers down it slowly, a whisper of a touch. His smile never faltered as he told you he had business to take care of and you were to stay put, stay safe within the thick walls of the castle until he returned. He’s come and gone before, leaving you several times since bringing you to Obsidian, but there was something in his eye, a flickering within its scarlet depths, a shadow dancing on the curve of his ever-present smile. Something about this parting was different….and when you asked him where he was going, he merely tapped the tip of your nose and said it wasn’t a concern for tender-hearted rabbits.

But you are no rabbit, content to sit in your hutch and tremble.

You have grown accustomed to Obsidian, and to Gilbert, to living in the castle, to the ways of its staff.

And you have made friends here.

You watched through the high arched window as he took his leave, sitting high atop his midnight-colored destrier, painted in the faded lavender beauty of twilight. You followed him with an unwavering gaze until he disappeared through the castle gates and could be seen no more. And then you turned, light-footed, and made your way to the one person who would know what was truly going on.

And now your gaze is on the study door when its golden handle finally dips and it is opened slowly by a leather-clad hand, now flecked with tiny red dots, imperceptible in the pallid wash of moonlight that falls through the study window. He moves, silent as a shadow, not expecting the soft yellow glow of your oil lamp or the sudden shadow that stretches across the lush carpeting to meet him as you rise to your feet. 

You’ve taken him by surprise, a rare feat. His face betrays him in the momentary parting of his sculpted lips, the rise of his dark brow. It is only temporary, the mask of genteel neutrality sliding back into place as he collects himself but you find a spark of courage in that split-second of the unexpected.

“It is a very late hour indeed for you to be hopping about, Häschen.” He leans his cane against the side of the nearest bookshelf, head tilted as he takes you in. You are in the same clothing as when he left. You have not gone to bed. Why did you wait all these hours? Were you….concerned for him? The very thought sends an unaccustomed warmth rippling through his veins. 

The lateness of the hour, the stillness in his body as he watches you, the uncertainty he is trying to hide. You feel it all, deep in your bones and are bolstered, your heart growing bolder with each passing second. Your steps are silent as you make your way towards him, the sound swallowed by the thick carpeting over the stone floor, by the shadows of the room. You stop in front of Gilbert, tilting your face up in order to look into his eye, now dark as claret. Your hand rises and the back of your fingers touch the cool skin of his cheek. 

He does not move. He barely breathes because this is the first time you are touching him like this, as if he is something precious, something delicate that must be handled with care. It is, in fact, the first time anyone has ever touched him like this at all.

Your fingers reach his neck and shift, turning, your warm palm pressed against his jugular, his heartbeat cupped in the palm of your hand, your fingers wrapping around the curve of his neck. His aide Walter’s words echo in your mind. 

The Prince has gone to exact justice on men who have wronged Obsidian. Rhodolite men who had stolen something invaluable. Not jewels or gold or weapons. No. They had stolen seeds that would grow in Obsidian’s dismal climate, that would feed its hungry people. Rare seeds from a far-away land that had taken Gilbert months of planning to accrue. Seeds that the men had simply destroyed without orders because they believed anything that benefitted Obsidian must be a threat.

And even you, with your gentle heart, could understand the Prince of Obsidian’s need for justice, his rage at the loss of something that could save his people, his fury at their pain. You felt it too, the injustice of it, the scorching anger that swept through you as Walter bowed his curly head and spoke, voice low, words heavy.

And your admiration for Gilbert burst into a flame that still burns as you stare up into a face so beautiful it feels like looking into the face of some celestial creature, a child of blood and moonlight, kissed by the stars. You rise onto the tips of your toes and press your lips to the corner of his mouth where you stay for the span of a heartbeat.

One.

Two. 

When you lower yourself back down to earth, something has changed. The world is not quite what it was mere seconds before. Gilbert is uncharacteristically silent, his eye a glittering gemstone as it searches your face. You feel a sudden heat sting your cheeks and your heart is hammering so loudly in your chest it’s a wonder he doesn’t hear it. Overwhelmed by your sudden boldness, you murmur good night and leave the study with the cool taste of his skin burned into your lips.

Now alone, Gilbert draws a tremulous breath, removing one blood-flecked leather glove and then slowly raises his bare fingers to the corner of his mouth, pressing them there, where the ghost of your kiss still lingers.

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

10k words of your beautiful writing and unhinged brothers, except for Leon? Would love to read😌💞 Be it less or more words, I just know that if a story is written by you, it will work out perfectly😌

You are far too kind, Nadia 💞 But I honestly believe I would lose my reputation for fun & wholesome family fic writer if that fic is released as it currently is 😂 It's still a family fic... technically... but a tragic one.

The best way I can describe it is I was rereading The Hunger Games series when I thought it up. I still like the story, but I can't guarantee others will feel the same, you know? But I'll keep it in my back pocket in case I feel like rewriting it soon 👍

Thank you very much for the tag Atelier🥺💖 I'm looking at your last line and I'm interested👀👀

Here is mine!

Tagging(no pressure tag!): @queen-dahlia , @chaosangel767 and anyone who sees this and wants to participate! Feel free to tag me👀♡

last line tag game

i haven’t written much this week, winter blues are coming on strong and i feel a hiatus in my midst with changing life circumstances but here we go. thanks for the tag @gretagerwigsmuse @jupitercomet @bobfloydsbabe @joaquinwhorres

RULES: Share the last line you wrote for your WIP and tag as many people as there are words.

Tonight? Bradley Bradshaw was going to claim you.

Tagging @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-madusa @roleycoleyreccenter @t-nd-rfoot @pisupsala @butaneandthebeast @lostinwildflowers @thedroneranger

Hi, it's me again ahahha. I enjoyed your writing on Ikemen Prince with Baby on work~

Can you also do one for Chevalier and Clavis? 🥺😁

Ahaha I have to admit, this is something I've thought about from time to time. So, here's approx. 1300 words of Chev and Clavis as papas!

Chevalier

Chevalier stared down at the squirming little thing in his arms. It was the most ridiculous creature. Big, ice-blue eyes stared back at him intently, set in a face much like his own. “If I put you down, are you going to cry?” 

The baby - his daughter - burbled at him nonsensically and then grabbed at his cloak. She caught the fur and stuck it right into her mouth. 

Chevalier patiently removed the fur from her grasp. “What did I tell you? Only food goes into your mouth.” His strict voice belied the tender look in his eyes as he said it, though he did not realize what expression he wore when he looked at his daughter. “I wonder how any child lives to adulthood, sticking random things in their mouths.” He was very sure he’d never done that and there was no one around but Sariel to dispute him.

The baby did not have an answer for him, but she waved her hands in the air above her, reaching for his cloak again. 

He unhooked it and laid it against the back of the chair, safely out of baby-reach. Proactive strategy. Difficult when your opponent gave you so little to work with. “Now. I am going to read. And you are going to be a quiet good girl until your mother comes back.” Chev glared down at the little bundle of joy fiercely. 

“Ama-amamama ah?”

Chev paused mid-breath. “Did you . . . say mama?” 

“Ama-ahamama-aaahhhh!” She squealed at him and stuck her fist into her mouth to bite at it.

The king felt his face stretch into a wide smile. He,and he alone, heard the princess’ first words. Of course. It was a very common word. Mama. But he felt pride swell his chest. He couldn’t wait to see Emma’s face when she heard. 

“Now for your second word,” he told the little princess. “Paaa-paaa . . . paaa - say it.” His eyes gleamed with the ferocious inner light of a tiger teaching its young.

“Ahhh? Bluhbluh . . .” The baby squealed and then went back to sucking on its fist. 

“Paaa. P.” Chev formed the first letter slowly and repeated it several times. “If you can say mama, I know you can say papa. Stubbornness is not a becoming trait. Paaa-paaa.”

His daughter reached up and tried to grab at his chin, giggling and he could not help but laugh too.

Unnoticed in the doorway, Sariel stood with an armload of papers. He watched the king and princess with a gentle smile. Ater a moment, he turned and left as silently as he’d come.

Clavis

The princes of Rhodolite assembled in the garden, their expressions ranging from mild concern to hostile boredom. There were tables set out with an array of bizarre foods. Tarts in an unnatural shade of purple, vegetables with some kind of dangerous looking red glaze, a drink that might have been tea if it wasn’t blue. 

Yves and Licht sat at one table, looking nervous. Luke sprawled disinterestedly on a bench. Jin leaned against a rose-covered arch with his flask in hand - probably the only safe drink at this gathering. 

Rio stood to one side with a tray in hand. It held little cups of what looked like pudding, but it was matte green and had chunks of something yellow jutting out of it. He wasn’t allowing anyone to take one off the tray - not that anyone was asking. 

Leon was gamely chewing one of the violently purple treats, much to Sariel’s obvious horror. Nokto watched from a shaded bench in the corner, clearly hoping for a reaction from the 4th prince. 

“This had better not be a waste of my time.” Chev was the last to arrive, he stepped into the garden and gave the gathering a frosty look. 

Clavis had called them here upon his return from Jade, and no one was quite sure if that meant he was about to prank them or actually had important information to share. With the 3rd born prince, it could go either way or even be both. He was unpredictable, dangerously so. Even marriage and fatherhood had done little to tame him.

Cyran, soldier and confidante to Clavis, appeared at the entrance to the garden right behind Chevalier. “Oh, I promise you this will be worth your time, King Highness.”

Chev’s lip curled, but he sat down and crossed his arms. 

A moment later, Clavis arrived. He was beaming, his smile wider than usual. “Thank you so much for attending my little garden party. I really appreciate it!” 

No one replied, though Jin crossed his arms, almost a mirror of Chevalier's posture. 

“I hope you’re enjoying all my homemade goodies. All from things I bought while in Jade.”

“That’s not the only reason you asked us here, is it?” Sariel’s dry, business-like voice did not sound amused or even faintly interested in ‘goodies’.

Clavis laughed. “Of course not!” He swanned around the gathering, his smile wide and unchanging. “I asked you to come because I made the most fantastic discovery in the Jadean markets.”

“A new medicine,” Leon said hopefully.

“New weapons?” Chev asked with his usual icy disdain.

“Better.”

Nokto smirked. “I hope you aren’t about to show us another nude folio. King Highness did not appreciate that last time, and Yves is still too young for that kind of filth.”

“I might not mind,” Jin hummed. 

“No! I’m a married man now,” Clavis put a hand to his chest. “I can’t imagine wanting to look at anyone but my dear Emma.” 

“So . . . what is it then?” Licht frowned.

“Cyran.” Clavis gestured imperiously. The soldier gave a little bow and hurried off, returning a moment later with something in his arms. Someone, in fact. 

“Well, there it is. The prince has finally lost what mind he had left,” Sariel sighed. “You didn’t find your daughter in the Jadean markets, Clavis.”

The baby in Cyran’s arms wriggled, trying to get loose. She was just old enough that she’d started to walk, holding onto things and as wobbly as a new-born deer.

Clavis laughed. “Of course not! But look at her shoes!” The baby wore a pair of odd looking little shoes over her chubby feet. They were white and pink, with a cute bunny face topped by loppy little ears and a puffy cotton tail above the heel. 

“Baby shoes.” Chevalier said flatly. “You brought us here . . . for baby shoes.”

“Yes! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find cute little shoes that fit those chubby little feet? But in Jade they’ve made these shoes with stretchy tops, see?” He pointed out the way the top stretched over the little baby foot. “And it has a matching headband!” Clavis took it out of his pocket and put it on the baby’s head.

His daughter giggled and grabbed at the ears that now hung down on each side of her adorable face. Her lavender hair stuck up at odd angles where the band had bunched it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“She does look pretty cute,” Yves said into the awkward silence. 

Licht had a gentle expression on his face, almost tender, as he nodded in agreement. 

The baby wriggled until Cyran had to set her down, holding her two little hands in his big calloused ones. She took a few wobbling steps toward Chevalier, and gave him a big smile. “Uhhnn!” 

Chev regarded her with an arctic glare. “Uncle. Chevalier. It’s not difficult to say.” 

“Uhhhn! ‘Val . . . ear!” The tiny princess pulled a hand loose from Cyran and waved it toward Chev. 

“Aww that’s so cute! But your name is too long. I bet she can say mine.” Jin crouched down to put himself at baby level. “Come on little bun-bun. Come to uncle Jin.”

Nokto chuckled. “Not even a year old and she’s bringing royalty to their knees.”

Chevalier stood. “I do not have time for this.” He stepped carefully around the baby and then walked briskly back toward the palace. It might have been easy to miss the gentle look he gave the child over his shoulder. Certainly, the gathered princes were too occupied to note it. 

Clavis looked entirely pleased with himself as the rest of his brothers tried for the baby’s attention. She loved being the center of things, and for once, he did not mind yielding the spotlight.