Good Night Be Happy!

good night be happy!

🎉🎊🎉 1K!!! 🎉🎊🎉

I'm so happy for you!!!!! You deserve all the love and admiration, my dear. Not only is your writing fantastic, you're sweet and I definitely consider you a friend of mine here. I appreciate you 💕

Now... could I request Theo and kissing to prove a point for your 1k celebration? I feel that's very him haha.

A/N: Here you are, @yarnnerdally 💜

Theo x f reader

Prompt: A Kiss to Prove a Point

Word Count: 1203

It has taken days of planning and many sleepless nights, but now you are finally done. The petite art gallery on the west side of Paris is decorated with elegant floral garlands and soft, twinkling fairy lights, all highlighting the theme of the collection: Romance. You’re tired, but it is a satisfied kind of tired, the kind that settles into your muscles and bones like a lioness sinking down onto the soft Savannah earth after a rewarding hunt. The artist behind the collection had been no one, just another street painter trying to sell his offerings to mildly interested tourists when you had noticed him and his work, stopping dead in your tracks to admire a painting of a couple locked in a warm embrace. They lay in a field of green grass and small pink blossoms, wrapped in one another’s arms. They're bathed in soft yellow sunshine, locked together in an eternal summer kiss. Something about the painting had felt so inviting, so real, you had pressed the tips of your fingers against your lips, your heart swelling with a wave of longing to be kissed the same way. By a certain someone.

Theo had agreed with you, once you had managed to drag him away from the mansion and back to the park where the artist was slowly packing up his wares. Buffeted by the man’s potential, you had worked together on putting together a showing of his paintings, drumming up funds from various patrons until you had enough for your showcase.

Now you walk through the small gallery, drinking in the fruits of your labor. 

“There you are.” Theo’s deep voice cuts through your reverie and you turn to see him approaching you, glass of sparkling champagne in hand. He hands you one which you take with an appreciative smile.

“Cheers,” you say, lifting it towards him.

“Proost,” he answers, clinking glasses with you. Your gazes hold (you could swim forever in all that blue) Before the moment stretches into something too long to be insignificant, you both raise the delicate crystal flutes and drink. The cascade of bubbles feels like it's not just rushing down your throat but through your entire body. You blink, turning towards the painting you are closest to. 

It’s the passionate couple, kissing in the summer field. The one that had so immediately caught your attention. You sigh, a light, dreamy sound that pours itself over Theo like silk, sending an unexpected rush of heat through his body. He rubs his face, turning away to hide any color that may have risen to his chiseled cheeks. You don't notice, eyes glued to the figures as you allow yourself another sip of champagne. Now, in the dimmer lighting of the art gallery late at night, there is something even more sensual about the way the couple is holding each other. His hand pressed against the rounded curve of his lover's hip, her fingers curled against the side of his neck, intimate, possessive. 

“This is as satisfying as a real kiss,” you murmur, head tilting as you continue to admire the art. What pulls you out of your rose-colored haze is the decidedly unromantic snort from your right. 

“If you think a painting can replace a real kiss, then you haven’t been kissing the right person, hondje.”

He’s smirking as he takes a sip of his drink, his impossibly blue eyes looking over the painting. The fairy lights are having the same effect on him as they do the artwork: he looks unfathomably beautiful, his golden hair darker than in the daylight, his face a sculptor’s dream of perfectly balanced features.

Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s the intimacy of the late hour. Maybe it’s the fact that you have been spinning from one task to another all day long without a chance to spend any time with him. It has to be something because the following words come out of your mouth:

“Prove me wrong.”

Three little words that stop the earth from turning, that grab hold of Theo’s lungs with such force that the next inhale shakes. Three little words that hang in the air between you, vaguely foreboding like flickering neon or distant thunder.

Warning flashes through your mind and you want to kick yourself and your big mouth. Why did you say that? Whatever possessed you to even think that Theodorus van Gogh would be interested in kissing–

Theodorus van Gogh sets his champagne glass down on the edge of a table full of brochures and then turns. He reaches out with both hands, cupping either side of your face and leans down, capturing your mouth with his. You freeze, both arms at your sides, the champagne in your glass sloshing around like a tiny, storm-tossed sea. 

Is he…..

Oh….

…..he is….

He’s kissing you, his lips moving over yours in a shockingly gentle caress, his hands holding you still, not forcefully, but carefully, like you’re something valuable, something he should handle with care. He displays a tenderness you would never have dreamed possible in a man as large as he is. Every movement of his mouth against yours sends a ripple of warmth through your body. One hand shifts, the back of his fingers stroking the softness of your cheek. 

Your surprise slowly melts under his touch, disappearing like water droplets in sunshine,  and your free hand rises to clutch his shoulder. You hold on tightly, reveling in the electricity every brush of his lips sparks. But before you can part your lips in invitation, before you can start truly returning his kiss, he pulls away, the movement causing a short, forlorn gasp to leave your tingling lips.

Quiet descends upon you both and for a long, tense moment, neither one of you speaks. Words seem impossible as you stare into the summer-sky of his eyes. He clears his throat, shaking his head as if trying to wake himself out of a dream. At that moment you feel him pulling away, the warmth of his kiss and the tenderness of his hands fading into memory. Your heart lurches in panic.

“Theo.” 

He grunts, unable to meet your gaze. 

You step towards him, setting your champagne glass down next to his. Your hands are now free to reach out, steadier than you expected them to be, and take his, holding his strong hands tightly in yours.

“I believe…..I am starting to be swayed by your persuasive argument. But I do think I need more proof before I am fully convinced.”

His head snaps up and on his handsome face you see a dazzling array of emotions, starting with surprise and ending with a slow smile that sends your heart spinning. He pulls you towards him, unhurried, a man who now knows he has a delicious treat waiting just for him.

"More proof, huh,” he murmurs, unlocking your hands so he can slide his around you, large palms eagerly learning the curve of your hips, the slope of your waist.

You plunge your hand boldly into the thicket of his golden hair as he bends his body down to kiss you for the second time that night. 

By the night’s end though….you will have lost count entirely.

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 @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bubblexly

Hi Ellen! What if Emma turned into a rat and thus presented Sariel with a Moral DilEmma?

😭

Okay but I think things will be fine once he realizes that it's Emma and not a filthy rat. Well, kind of fine. His movements are stiff but he's doing his best.

Otherwise...good luck on trying to find a cure Emma.

Knowing Sariel's hatred for rats, Emma would avoid Sariel by just hiding out in her room. Of course, he'd notice something's wrong if he doesn't see her by the end of the day so he goes to her room.

...

Luckily Emma's able to somehow convince Sariel that it's her but now the man's at a loss of what to do. He wants to hold her but...the squeaking. Those hands. That tail. That is, until he sees her looking all sad so he reaches a hand out. After some hesitation, Emma climbs on. Meanwhile, Sariel's reminding himself that it's Emma ,puts her in his pocket, and brings her to his room.

If he gives a rat a cookie, she'll ask for a glass of milk. When you give her a glass of milk blah blah blah ... she'll curl up on the pillow If he lies down next to her she'll give him a kiss (Sariel tries not to flinch)

Unfortunately it's not one of those fairy tales where true love's kiss will break the curse. It wears out after a couple of days but in the meantime, Sariel tells everyone that Emma's ill and no one should visit her unless they want to catch what she has.

Happy 1k! 🥳 Could I request nr 9 for Clavis? (Or Napoleon)💖

A/N: It IS nearly his birthday so why not fulfil a Clavis request? Here you go @my-day6 💜 I hope you enjoy it!

Clavis x female reader

First Kiss Prompt: Heat of the Moment

WC: 1551

“Get me out of here!”

Your voice cracks at the strain of maintaining that volume. The dark, damp earth swallows the sound of your foot as you stomp it in frustration. Soon all you’re left with is a mighty glare which you lob at the pit’s edge. Above you is a perfect circle of sky, blue and bright, innocently shining, unaware of the fate that has befallen you.

You press your palms against the cool walls of the pit. They are too smooth, too well-constructed. You would never be able to grasp anything and climb your way out. Not a handhold or foothold in sight. Digging your fingers into the compact earth proves to be an unpleasant, crumbling mess of an idea which you give up immediately.

“Damn it, Clavis,” you mutter under your breath, a hand pressed against your side. The fall wasn’t too far, but it still knocked the wind out of you, surprise lending it a helping hand when it robbed you of breath. “Why?”

Of course there is no answer. Just a few fluffy white clouds that drift into view, stretching themselves lazily across the expanse of blue. With a huff, you lower yourself to the ground, crossing your arms. Your pink blouse is already streaked with earth and the fall ripped the side of your gray skirt wide open, up to the thigh. You yank the material closed as best you can, closing your eyes. Fine. You’ll wait. You’re already stuck at the bottom of one of his stupid hidden pit traps. It can’t get any worse.

The first raindrops are like small, cold kisses, harbingers of a very muddy and possibly dangerous future if you don’t get out of this pit now. You scrabble to your feet, the ground already wet enough to suck at your boots.

“HELP!”

The circle above your head is now gray and foreboding, releasing more and more gleeful raindrops who are happy to be free of their cloudy prison. They freefall towards the royal garden, bringing more and more of their friends along for the ride. Pushing wet strands of hair from your face, you are forced to shut your eyes against the onslaught of steadily falling rain and open your mouth to scream. You’re not sure if it’s a scream for help or frustration or fury but just when you’re about to let go, a voice rings out against the sound of the downpour: “Oh dear, how unfortunate.” A head of twilight hair, dark with rain, and two twinkling golden eyes peer over the pit’s edge.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE CLAVIS LELOUCH!”

He leans down, extending a hand which you grab hold of. With surprising strength, he pulls you easily from the pit and onto the soft, cold green grass of the western corner of the royal gardens. You spring to your feet, full of righteous fire, hands curled into fists as you take a step towards him. The Prince does not move. Instead he regards you, head tilted to one side, a hand raised in a gesture of peace.

“I do apologize, my dear. This trap was intended for a brother who was supposed to be collecting edible blossoms for tomorrow’s tea.”

You shake your head and then grab his hand faster than he can pull away. Fueled by anger, by the cold, damp feel of your clothing as it sticks to you, by the dull ache in your side and the feel of your broken skirt around your legs, you yank him towards the gazebo where you are sheltered from the rain and where he can’t slip away from you.

Clavis shakes his head, water droplets like tiny diamond beads in every direction. He pushes his hair back with one hand, his lips still lifted in a grin.

“Do you really want time alone with me—” His quippy remark is cut short by you clamping a hand over his mouth, eyes bright with anger.

“I was STUCK in a PIT for HOURS!”

You’re close enough to him for him to hear you loudly over the now pouring rain, to notice the rain drops sliding from his wet hair down the planes of his handsome face. Something glitters in those aurelian eyes as they regard you over your merciless hand. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, keeping your hand firmly in place.

“I could have gotten hurt in the fall! I could have drowned in there had you not come along! These pits are a HAZARD!”

How dare he refuse to look away in shame. How dare he keep his gaze on yours, his eyes holding you just as captive as that pit did. What is he thinking?

 ~ Your hand is warm against his mouth, your skin softer than silk.

How dare you smell so good, soaked in rainwater, streaked with dirt. How dare you look so beautiful, tendrils of hair framing your face like a work of art. Your clothes revealing so much and so little. Your skirt parted like the Red Sea, revealing a shapely path to what must be the Holy Land. How dare he want you? You, who is forbidden? You, bright flame that deserves so much more than him…worthless, weak little him.

And yet he can’t help what he feels. 

The thunder of his heart echoes through his veins, the feel of your fingers, the palm of your hand bewitching, conjuring a storm inside him. He is lost in the brilliance of your eyes, a universe he could spend eons exploring. Lost and never wanting a way out, ever again.

But he can’t do this. 

He can’t. 

He must keep this secret locked down in the deepest well of his heart, where the shadows lurk and darkness is a tyrant, towering over a small boy who only wants to be enough for someone. ~

He jerks his head away from your hand, blinking, his muddy boot scuffing the wooden floor of the gazebo as he steps back, away from you. The light in his eyes has dimmed.

“Ah my dear, it was only a joke. All in good fun.”

Something inside you shifts as you feel him pulling away. No. You want to see the fire in his eyes again, that glowing gold in all its intensity. 

You step towards him.

“I see you were offended by my silly trap. I’ll be more mindful of where I place them.”

No, this isn’t what you want. You don’t want him rambling on about his pranks, gaze not on you but the falling rain, his body shivering with cold, his spirit slowly folding inward, closing like a flower bud in reverse. 

No.

You take another step towards him until he bumps up against the curved railing, his hands reaching back to grip the wet, white wood.

“I do apologize for upsetting you, dearie. I— W-What are you...?”

Your body is crackling with frustration. He needs to STOP TALKING about the damn trap. You’re still angry at him for digging it but you’re also angry at the way he is retreating further and further behind that façade of his, that wall of quips and polite distance and controlled flame. You’re practically trembling with the desire to.....

You grab him, fistfuls of his wet coat, and pull him to you, capturing his mouth with yours. He gasps audibly, body going rigid with shock. You will not relent. You want that wall between you gone. So you tear it down with your lips, pressing kiss after kiss against his mouth. You tear it down with your left hand, still curled into the heavy material of his lavender jacket like an iron fist. You tear it down with your right hand, the one that has traveled up to his neck and is holding him there, warm palm against slick, cold skin. You tear it down with your leg, exposed and pressed tightly against his.

Kiss by kiss, touch by touch, you besiege him, vanquishing the cold with the heat of your body, crumbling his hesitation with the strength of your will. What man stands a chance against a perfect storm like this?

You feel when you have triumphed. He snaps as if struck by lightning and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against the long, lean lines of his body, tipping you back so you’re at a better angle for him to taste. You wrap one arm around his neck, holding on as he comes to life, his mouth moving over yours, deepening the kisses, sending your senses reeling. One hand supports your lower back, the other drops to the skin of your thigh and tiny tornados of electricity dance across your skin.

Was this what was hiding behind those quick smiles? Those flashing golden eyes?

You kiss him as the world around you rages, wind and water roaring through the royal gardens, But desire, which has been biding its time, smoldering patiently, now breathes fire into your lungs, blazes white-hot through your veins.

As you both sink to your knees, still wrapped in each other’s arms, as he tears his mouth from yours to hungrily ravish the soft skin of your neck, you don’t wonder what will happen when the storm fades.

Because you know that this? 

This is just the beginning.

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

gilbert x reader, the tomorrow telegram

Like cloud-tails spattered across The bluest sky, his laughter Breaks warm skin: your shoulder Upon which he drifts Every song and soft shape Of his human smile

A lungful of love From you to him. A lungful of love From him to you His every breath a garden; His every breath an hour Of daylight In a cold, forgotten, lonely world

He falls asleep, relaxed and easy, Among his roses

I wonder if I was thinking of whitelittlebunny's amazing art of Gilbert laughing as I wrote this

IKEPRI JP SPOILERS FOR LUCIAN:

Lucian has known Chevalier for decades (as he said), so he knew him from very young and it turns out he really was an assassin! Chevalier was his former target