#my ikemen valentine gift exchange

[violettduchess]

A/N: This is my gift for @readerinsertfanfiction 💜 The moment I saw Cyran on your list, I was thrilled. I hope you enjoy!

A huge thank you to @ikemenlibrary for her support and friendship and for being a generous, caring host 💜

Prompt: A servant, someone who knew Cyran from before his time in Rhodolite

Cyran x AU Emma

WC: ~4k

Obsidian: the Past

She runs across the cracked, sunbaked cobblestone streets, her treasure wrapped in a cream-colored tea towel and held protectively against her chest. Her worn leather shoes make a pleasing thunking sound against the stones as she hurries past dusty shop windows and faded porches, carefully dodging people on the street.

“Langsam, Emma!” someone yells as she flies past but she doesn’t listen to their warning. She can’t slow down. She has somewhere to be.

Finally she reaches the edge of town and takes a sharp left, leaving the cobblestones behind for a ribbon of dirt road that winds its way along tired hills covered with sparse sage-green grass and dotted with scraggly yellow dandelions. Another turn onto an even smaller path, a faint thing that meanders through the knee-high growth and then, finally, the faded barn comes into view. 

She smiles, pumping her young legs harder, willing them to swallow the distance faster and faster until she reaches the peeling, splintered wooden doors and haphazardly flings one open.

“Cyran? I’m here!!”

The boy, just shy of fourteen, turns away from the wooden beam he has been faux-sparring with, lowering the dull, well-worn practice sword he is so proud of. His hair gleams like fire in the hazy sunlight that shines through the pocked roof. 

Emma hurries over, gulping down huge breaths of musty air as she grabs his thin forearm.

“C’mon. I’m dying to see how they taste.”

Cyran laughs, struggling to sheath his sword as she drags him over to the blanket thrown over the hay in a cozy corner of the barn. This is their favorite place to meet, an escape from the outside world they discovered several years ago while exploring. It is here that Emma sometimes reads to him from one of her treasured books. She’s even shared stories she’s written, romantic tales of princesses and dragons, knights and monsters. Cyran is always the hero, the knight who slays the monsters and rescues the damsel in distress. Emma will change her roles in the stories. 

Sometimes she needs rescuing. 

But sometimes, she is the dragon.

Often they sneak treats to each other, hard biscuits or smoked meat or, if they are really lucky, sweet berries brought across the border from the lush neighboring country of Rhodolite. Cyran’s neighbor is a servant for some of the merchants that make the risky trips over and when he’s lucky, she manages to tuck away a few treasures just for him.

He settles himself down on the frayed checkered blanket and pushes his bright hair away from his forehead, eagerly watching as Emma drops down next to him, laying the tea towel down. Her face is flushed from her run and from the thrill of what she’s managed to bring him.

“Ready?”

He nods, enthusiastically motioning for her to unwrap it already. He has hands that are too big for his young body, growing the way many boys do at this age, in odd fits and spurts. 

Emma leans forward, pushing up the sleeve of her too-big dress and carefully pulls back the edges of the tea towel.

The smell hits them first, the warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of the cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger. It wafts up towards them, exotic and tempting. Cyran breathes in deeply and then sighs happily as he looks at her, eyes bright and admiring.

“It smells so good.”

Cyran had carefully been saving up the exotic store of spices, some of them gifts from his neighbors, others decadent purchases made at the market from his meager earnings made mucking stalls and chopping wood. He knew that Emma would be the one who would create something special with them. Young as she was, she was a talented cook and baker, able to make the most fantastic treats out of the simplest ingredients. And now that she had been given such a treasure trove to work with, she had spun pure magic.

The spiced biscuits are dappled dark brown and gold. When she hands him one, it is with a reverence that echos a priest giving communion or a child receiving a shiny new toy at Christmas.

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Together.”

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes.

“Together.”

They bite into the cookies at the same time. Emma breaks into a proud smile as Cyran closes his eyes, savoring the medley of flavor and even better, the knowledge that she made them just for him.

“It’s good, isn’t it?" she asks, grinning. She sees the look on his face, the way he is practically melting with enjoyment.

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug, feigning indifference.

“I guess……”

“What?!”

He takes another bite, leaning back on one hand. “I mean, they’re ok. But you know, Hilde’s biscuits are also really good–OOF.”

She’s tackled him, throwing herself at him with all the force of a frenzied feline, her nimble fingers scratching at his sides. Cyran breaks into laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to squirm away from her.

“Ok ok Brown Eyes, enough!”

Emma lets him go, sitting back on her heels with a glowing, triumphant smile.

“Never say that about Hilde’s cookies again.”

He pushes himself up, heart pounding furiously in his chest. Only some of it is from laughing. He tears his gaze away from the unsettling beauty of her eyes, traveling up to her hair.

“You’re a mess. You got straw in your hair and your braid is a disaster.”

Emma turns and scoots until she is sitting in front of him. “Since it’s your fault….you fix it.”

Cyran heaves a sigh he doesn’t mean and then settles himself into a comfortable position, reaching forward and with a tenderness and care far beyond most boys his age, begins slowly picking the straw from her messy plait.

Emma’s eyes drift closed as she revels in the attention he’s giving her, the gentle way he untangles her braid and then very slowly begins brushing his fingers through her soft, chestnut-colored hair.

It feels comforting and safe.

It feels thrilling.

It feels like the early evening has come to a standstill and they have all the time in the world.

But their time together is like a rose slowly losing its petals.

A petal falls as he tells her, wide-eyed and shaken, that his neighbor has been killed in her own home, throat opened in the dead of night and left smiling its ghastly red smile until she was discovered hours later. Emma rubs his back, not knowing what else to do. This is not the first death in their village as of late. And it will not be the last.

A petal falls as they lay, side by side, on the blanket in the hay, staring up at the patches of starry sky visible through the holes in the roof. “My parents are scared,” she whispers. He turns his head to stare at her profile and knows it isn’t just her parents who are frightened. “I’ll protect you,” he whispers, voice fierce with youth’s naïve promise. Her gaze remains on the silver stars but she reaches out, taking his hand and squeezes it.

A petal falls as she comes to their favorite spot, face pale as bone, to tell him that her family is leaving. Her father has contacted distant relatives that live far to the north, as far from Rhodolite and the dangers it poses as one can get. Cyran feels like his young heart may break right there in his chest and he will be forced to live the rest of his life with its pieces rattling around inside of him. Though filled with dismay, Emma’s eyes are as beautiful as ever. They shine with tears, rivaling any star they have ever spent time gazing at.

A petal falls as she rushes through the dark, on the night before her family is to leave, her throat burning with feelings she can’t quite name, waves too strong to try and understand for fear they will sweep her away. She bursts through the barn doors and finds him already there, his hair dark as garnet, damp with sweat. He has spent the entire day doing heavy labor, removing heavy wooden beams, hauling ancient and broken equipment, sweeping the dusty, straw-strewn floor. Several lanterns placed around the interior bathe the space in warm, yellow light. The barn is as clean and inviting as he can make it. He wanted to give her one more memory, something beautiful, that she can take with her on her journey away from here. Away from him.

Emma is frozen in place, soaking in all he has done, before finally stopping on the young man at the center of it. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Already his shoulders carry the hint of what manhood will bring him: strength and breadth. Arms that with training will turn hard and sculpted, legs that will lengthen until he is taller than most. He is the faint beginning of what he will become. Emma wonders wildly if she will ever get the chance to see the finished masterpiece.

“Emma,” he says, his voice raw and rough, deeper than she has ever heard it.

She sets down the bundle she is holding, the one she carried so close on the way here, leaving it on top of a weathered wooden barrel.

“Cyran,” she answers, her muscles tense, like a fawn when it hears a crunching in the underbrush.

He starts forward, one hesitant step and that is enough. She flies towards him, throwing her thin arms around his neck and buries her face in his worn linen shirt, clutching him to her. There is power in her small frame, something fierce and bright, a hurricane in crystal. Cyran holds her close, his eyes closing as he breathes in her familiar scent. He’s been teased his whole life because of his last name, but she is the one who reminds him of a rose, who always smells so sweet.

The anticipation of loss that has them clinging to each other slowly ebbs and something else, something that has been burning low and quiet in every laugh, every touch, every glance begins to emerge. She is suddenly aware of the press of her chest against his, of how much taller he is, the earthy smell of his skin. She leans back to look at him and sees the same awareness mirrored in his dark eyes.

Outside a rooster crows, loud and discordant.

Cyran turns his head toward the sound and Emma, sparked by the frantic knowledge that she must leave, grabs his chin, pulling him back to her and rises onto her toes, pressing her lips to his.

It is a sunbeam bursting through gray clouds. A spark breathing life into a pile of dried leaves. It is hope and promise and wonder.

And heartbreak.

With a stifled cry, she steps away, turns and flees the barn, not wanting to see the look on his face as she leaves, not wanting that to be her last memory of him.

Cyran watches with a thundering heart as the door swings shut. Flooded with helplessness and misery, he notices the bundle she left behind. Tenderly he lifts it, undoing the sky-colored ribbon. It’s her favorite handkerchief, white with pale blue forget-me-nots painstakingly embroidered along the edges, and nestled inside are several of her spiced biscuits. His favorites.

Rhodolite: The Present

Rhodolite is so much MORE than she expected. The streets are wider and cleaner and lined with greenery, more trees and flowering bushes and grass than in the entire garden of the palace in Obsidian. There are more people than she expected too, many standing under awnings and lampposts, peeking through windows and around doorways, watchful eyes in beautiful faces following the royal procession as it makes its way towards the palace. 

When she had been told by the Head Chef that they would be accompanying Prince Gilbert and his entourage to Rhodolite, Emma had felt a familiar ringing through the cockles of her heart. Rhodolite is where Cyran was rumored to have ended up. Whispers from the south had traveled her way, over the many years since they parted. He had joined the army when he was of age. He had left Obsidian for the verdure of Rhodolite. He was employed by one of the Princes there. Crumbs of information she had managed to gather, hoarding them tightly like precious drops of mana. 

He may not even be here, she reminds herself as her tired gray mare plods along down the street. She and the other servants are at the end of the procession and most of the people have turned away, not interested in anything but the dangerous Prince Gilbert with his sharp smile and blood-red gaze. 

Still, Emma finds herself scanning the crowds as they pass, looking for any head of red hair. She spots a few but they are never him.

As the overwhelming elegant palace suddenly rises towards the heavens before her, she draws in a sharp breath. 

We’re here…….

…….Is he?

The palace looms closer, a breathtaking monument of pale beauty.

And if so….how in the wide world will she ever find him?

Cyran runs a hand through his thick mass of russet hair as his long strides make quick work of the pathway towards the training hall. It’s late evening and the young, freshly-minted knights are at the end of their training and he needs to make sure everything went well without him there. He knows Lucian is more than capable of leading them through their drills but Cyran has a responsibility to make sure. They are all under his charge.

Entering the hall, he sees several of the knights laughing in a corner. Some are sitting and catching their breath, others are pushing the heavy sandbags they sometimes train with back into their storage room. What he sees reassures him. They look tired and sore, yet satisfied, faces bright with the feeling of accomplishment a tough training session will leave behind.

He’s about to go look for Lucian, expecting a full report when he notices several of the knights standing by the wooden table at the far end of the training circle, the one usually covered with straps for shields and rope and other odds and ends. They’re smiling, far too widely to be discussing anything so mundane as weaponry. Several are chewing. He approaches the table, greeted by his men with smiles and respectful nods. Immediately he notices the tin: it’s round and black, covered with decorative golden swirls. 

“What’s this?” He glances towards the first knight at his left, a tall lad with sandy blond hair.

“They were brought here by an Obsidian servant. She said they were a present for us.”

Cyran frowns, a skeptical look on his face as he reaches inside the tin for one of the golden brown cookies.

“And you didn’t think to–” He was going to ask if they thought accepting gifts from strangers was a good idea when the scent hits him, cutting through the sweat and musk of tired men.

The warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger.

He goes still, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Could it be…..

Something in his face hushes the men around him. They watch, curious as Cyran lifts the cookie and takes a bite. 

The man who sees everything, ever watchful, closes his eyes as he chews and the knights are transfixed by the absolute stillness that has overtaken their leader.

And then those eyes open and something in them has begun to burn, bright and alive.

The other half of the cookie falls to the dusty ground as he turns on his heel and, practically jogging, exits the training area, leaving behind the half-eaten biscuit and a slew of surprised faces.

The rose gardens are somehow even more beautiful in the twilight of evening. The red petals seem to have darkened, shedding their bright rose-red for a sultry scarlet. Shadows emerge from the trimmed hedges, stretching across the winding stone pathways, giving a visitor like Emma glimpses of hidden benches and secret dirt paths leading into clandestine corners of the gardens.

She has taken several of these more narrow, less-trodden paths, not at all afraid of getting lost. Her heart is a bird, flitting between dark branches, full of a nervous, tightly-wound energy she can’t quite explain. 

As the sky darkens to a deep navy blue and the first stars open their eyes, Emma pauses in front of a gray stone fountain. Two swans, nuzzling their beaks together, bodies curved towards one another as a blossoming flower rises above them, water spraying outward in celebration. She tilts her head, the romantic in her sighing at the way the two swans perfectly mirror one another, two halves of a whole, two souls in perfect harmony. So enchanted is she by the fountain that she doesn’t hear the footfall on the path, doesn’t notice the man who has stopped several meters away from where she is standing, the sight of her freezing him in his tracks.

“Emma.”

She jumps at the deep voice, her eyes wide and dark as she turns towards the sound. The owner of said voice is standing, half in shadow, at the place where the small path to the fountain begins, beneath a shadowy arch of crimson roses. She is so startled, she doesn’t even register that he has said her name.

“Oh….s'il te plaît, excuse-moi,” she says quickly, doing her best to remember the phrases of the common language spoken in Rhodolite. “J'espère que ça va…” She trails off, trying to remember how to say she hopes she is allowed to be here but the man takes another step closer, leaving the blanket of shadows and stepping into the fading light.

Even the dusky hue of evening cannot hide the red of his hair.

A gasp as soft as the flutter of a bird’s wing escapes her. The young boy she knew juxtaposed against this tall, broad man before her sends her heart into a tailspin. Her hand flies to her mouth as she takes him in. She sees the same bright light of recognition and admiration and overwhelming emotion plain as day on his beautiful face.

“Cyran?” The word is a whisper, a breathless repetition of the name she has kept in her prayers for decades.

His eyes never leave her, almost as if he has the power to hold her there with his gaze, to keep her from vanishing into the realm of his dreams where she has lived for so long. Slowly, he reaches up and loosens the laces at the top of his tunic. His hand slides inside and when it emerges, he is holding a small square of cloth. As he slowly opens it, her heart falters.

It’s white, with pale blue forget-me-nots embroidered around the edges.

He holds it out to her, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. That handkerchief has lived next to his heart, in an inner pocket, one he has sewn into every shirt he has ever owned since the day he watched her leave.

“I think…..this belongs to you, Brown Eyes.”

She chokes back a sob, unable to contain the thunderstorm of emotion coursing through her and runs to him, falling into his arms as naturally as a willow bends to the wind, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Cyran wraps his arms around her, sheltering her, holding her the way he has imagined a thousand times. His throat burns with all the words he has ached to say, all those sleepless nights spent remembering the lilt of her smile, the music of her laughter, the bittersweet taste of her kiss.

Emma squeezes her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of him, at once so familiar and yet so strange. Her arms wind around his waist as she presses herself against him, drinking in the sensation of his body on hers. 

This is Cyran….her Cyran…..her….

A thought pierces her heart as she suddenly steps away from him, eyes wide, still so beautiful as they glimmer with the remnants of her tears.

“Oh…I…I didn’t mean…..you could be married. I shouldn’t have-”

His laughter is coarse, rough with emotion, a roll of rushing water as it careens over the lip of a cliff.

“As if I could ever love anyone else.”

Love…..

As if summoned by the very word, the moon itself parts the soft gray clouds, flooding the small section of the garden with silvery light. The tinkling of the fountain fills the momentary silence. 

Cyran’s cheeks suddenly flush, a hot mixture of embarrassment and panic overriding the elation of the previous moment.

“I…..I don’t mean to presume of course that you feel the same. It has been a long time and…..” He trails off, wincing. Fluster is such an uncharacteristic state of being for Cyran. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry. I–” 

His words are cut off as Emma launches herself back into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

“Please, don’t apologize.” She tilts her head up to look at him, still in awe of how she sees the young man he was and the handsome man he has become in his beautiful eyes, in his exquisite face. “It has always been you.”

Cyran drags air into his lungs, hardly able to believe he isn’t dreaming. His rough fingers capture her chin, his thumb running over the sensitive skin just under her lower lip. 

Slowly, he leans down as she stretches upwards, eager and nearly trembling with emotion. 

He kisses her, his hand still cupping her face. Gently his mouth moves over hers as he tells her a wordless story of longing, of a bruised heart that learned to somehow keep beating. 

He kisses her, a strong arm pulling her closer, his lips and tongue weaving the tale of a young soldier who never forgot the girl with the tender heart and radiant spirit. The soldier who dreamed of her face during his darkest nights and longed for her laughter on days of sunshine.

She meets him, kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, sliding her palms along his broad shoulders, clutching him as she answers his tale, confessing without words how he has never left her heart. How his smile was her light in times of worry and despair. How seeing him again has been her northern star from the moment of parting.

Only the moon knows how long they stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in each other’s yearning.

When they finally part, Cyran rests his forehead against hers, still keeping her tightly in his embrace. He may never let go again.

“You’re….in the employ of Prince Gilbert. I am here.” He frowns ever so slightly as he brushes several loose strands of hair away from Emma’s charmingly flushed cheek. “This could get complicated.”

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Yes…..but we’ll figure it out.”

And suddenly he is carried back in time to an evening when her eyes shone just as brightly, just as excitedly, a young girl with something to give a young boy, a homemade cookie, an offering of love.

“Together.” 

Her voice echoes across the years, that word wrapping itself around his battered heart, a balm, a blessing.

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes, tenderly stroking the silk of her hair, and answers her now as he did back then. 

“Together.”

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @wordycheeseblob

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri cyran #cyran rose #ikemen cyran #ikepri cyril #cyril rose #ikemen cyril #my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

[maeko-kun]

Give me the smile in your heart

💐Vlad and Mitsuki💐

This is my first time joining in gift exchanging event My Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange and this is my gift for @tacogawa.

It's hard to choose between Leon, Shingen, Vlad and Mitsuhide, they're so enjoyable to draw so I use a roulette and the roulette chooses Vlad hehe~🤭 I hope you like my gift. 🥺💖

And I thank @ikemenlibrary for hosting this event, helping me choosing outfit from your avatar closet and colors. ☺️✨✨✨

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp mitsuki #vlad #mitsuki #my ikemen valentine gift exchange

[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

#my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikemen prince #silvio ricci #silvio/mc #silvio/emma #ikepri #fanfic #tw swearing

[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!

#my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri nokto #nokto klein #my art

[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-

#ikemen gift exchange #my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikemen vampire #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp leonardo x reader #ikevamp leonardo x mc

[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!!

#my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikemen fanart #ikemen #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri fanart #ikepri keith #keith howell #ikepri keith fanart #🖍️: bicaya draws

[randonauticrap]

Silent Letters to My Beloved

Pairing ~ Rio Ortiz x GN Reader

Word Count ~ 1.5k

Author's Note ~ This fic is my gift for the lovely @eli-chika in @ikemenlibrary's "My Ikemen Valentine" Gift Exchange! I truly loved being able to write this fic for you. It's been awhile since I've written for Ikemen, and even longer since I've written for Rio, but I hope I did him justice for you and I hope you enjoy! <3

(Ps. I also totally made up the dates because I have zero clue when ikepri is meant to take place lol)

Darling Love,                                                                                     11-08-32 

My sweetest dear one,

My heart,

When you rescued me, my world stood still. Who I was before the moment your hands touched mine was of no consequence anymore. I was yours, heart, body, and soul. Through the years, you taught me how to open up again; how to learn and take in the beauty of the world again. I learned how to love from you. The man who feared losing everything came to realize that he had never even known of "everything" until he knew you. 

I don't know why I'm confessing here, in this letter you will never read. I must seem quite foolish to you. Here you are, a bright and shining light, surrounded by those who shine almost as brightly as you do. The princes of Rhodolite are noble and kind - well, most of them - and you even outshine them at the center of it all. I can't even hope to hold a candle's worth of light to the beauty you radiate. Perhaps my purpose in this life is to stand behind you, just out of sight, and make sure you never suffer a single inconvenience. Honestly, it doesn't sound like too terrible of a fate: getting to stand close to you wherever you are, basking in the loveliness that is you. 

Sometimes I just wish…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My sweet,                                                                                             11-17-32

I see the way they admire you, the curiosity and interest in their eyes. It shouldn't bother me. I should be able to keep myself contained as your butler and your… friend. But the way you smile back at them is enough to cast a shadow on even my brightest of days, and will tie my heart in uncomfortable, messy knots without any effort. I am not a man worthy of your affection, I know this. However, I can’t seem to force these feelings away. I saw Prince Leon taking your hand today, and leading you to the training grounds. He looked so happy to have your hand in his; I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t find otherworldly joy in it, so at least he responded appropriately. The pleased blush that spread across your face when his hand closed around yours pained me with the heartbreaking guilt of a man who loves you, but also desperately wants you to be happy - whether he is the one to make you so or not. 

This jealousy is proof I can never deserve you. You are better off with a man like Prince Leon at your side. I will stand behind you to make sure you stay smiling throughout your journey. I swear it, to you and to myself, I will only cry where you cannot see it. You will never know my heartbreak. You deserve better than that.

~ Rio

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My friend,                                                                                            12-10-32

You look so beautiful in the red outfit Prince Leon gifted you. It falls so beautifully around your frame and compliments you well. You will look so regal by his side that no one will question your place there! I know you worry; I see it in your eyes and the way a near-permanent crease sits between your lovely eyes, but you don’t need to. Just carry yourself the way you do in town, and in the bookstore. You’re so confident and sure of yourself there; at home. I miss when you seemed at home, when you were comfortable… when we were-

“Rio!” 

The call from the door, along with hurried knocks had him jumping from his seat like he’d been stung and running to open it for them. “MC!” he yelped, his journal so visible and open on the table behind him filling him with so much momentary panic that he didn’t realize they were crying at first. But at the first sniffle, his attention snapped to their face where tears were falling in crystal tandem onto their lovely clothes. “MC, what’s wrong? Come in, sit down, I’ll get you a cloth! Was it Prince Leon? I don’t care if he’s a prince of Rhodolite or not, I’ll have his head if he hurt you-!”

“Rio!” they cried louder and he silenced, looking helplessly at them. They sniffled again. His heart clenched at the sound - the worst sound in the world, he thought, the sound of their pain. “I embarrassed myself.” sniff “The whole ballroom turned to judge me. They’re still talking about me, I’m certain.” sniff “I can’t show my face in that room again!” 

“No matter what happened, if they judged you, they’re the ones who should be ashamed!” Rio flamed, his hands coming up to frame their shaking shoulders. “Where is prince Leon? Did he not follow you?” he asked, despite himself. 

“I don’t want prince Leon.” they huffed. “He’s nice, and sweet, but-” sniff “He isn’t you, and I want you.” Rio’s heart stuttered into a wild rhythm at the possible implication of their words, but he shoved his hope to the pit of his stomach where it belonged; this wasn’t about him, it was about them. And he would be anything they needed him to be. So he put on his best face and nodded, pulling them into his embrace where they easily fell and curled around him. ‘It feels like coming home.’ he thought as he backed them both up enough to gently shut the door behind them and wrap his arm back around them, his hand finding their soft locks and stroking them tenderly. They wetted the shoulder of his undershirt with their tears, but he didn’t care. What was a shirt in comparison to them? The shirt was made better by having touched them, if anything. 

“Want to sit down?” he whispered into their hair and they nodded after several seconds more of sniffling, so he maneuvered them towards the short couch next to the fireplace in his room and made to ease them down into the seat gently, but they tugged on his arm, pulling him down with them. He let out a gasp of surprise as they settled sideways on to the couch and pulled him over top of them. 

“Please, Rio. Just- just hold me.” they whispered into his neck as he lowered himself gingerly down on top of them, hovering just above them to keep from possibly hurting them. However, they wrapped their arms firmly around his back and drew him close, rendering his efforts futile as he was forced to relax against them. He felt them sigh and relax into him, their nails beginning to scratch up and down his back, sending electric shivers through his entire body. 

“Are you sure I’m not going to hurt you?! I’d never forgive myself if-”

“Rio, it’s fine.” they murmured, stopping him short. Their voice was subdued now, a comfortable haze enveloping them in warmth, and Rio let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, letting himself nuzzle into their neck. “I love having you close.” they whispered softly. “You feel like home.”

His breath caught again, this time full of the words he was too much of a coward to say, so he propped up on his elbow instead to look down at them, hoping the love in his eyes was enough to get the message across. Something must have reached them, thankfully, because they met his eyes with the same ardor echoed back to him and he swore his heart stopped beating. “You do too.” he finally croaked out, shocked that any words could form on his lips at all. They brought their hand up to his cheek, letting their fingers brush against his soft skin, the tiny blond hairs there tickling their fingertips as they followed the path of his cheekbone back to his ear and then to his fine blond locks. Their eyes followed the path of their fingers until they were out of sight, lost in his hair, then traveled back to lock with his. 

“Rio,” they muttered breathlessly.

“Y-yes?” he said, hardly trusting his own voice to work the way it should. 

“Kiss me.” 

.

.

.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Dearest Fiance,                                                                            5-25-33

You grow more exquisite as each day passes, and I can’t believe I get to be the man to stand by your side. My proposal was so swift after we became lovers, I worried you wouldn’t say yes. But I couldn’t bear to wait any longer, and my heart is far too full knowing you feel the same! I know you enjoyed your time at the palace, but I’m so glad we’re back at the bookstore, home. Although, I know for certain that wherever you go would be home enough for me. If one day you decide to travel across the sea, I’ll be there beside you, ready to take on the world as your husband. With you, my love, I can take on anything. Thank you for loving me, I will never believe I deserve it, no matter the number of times you tell me. And I cannot wait to fill this journal with our adventures together. No more heartbreak, only love. Forever love. 

~ Your loving fiance, Rio

#ikemen prince #ikepri #rio ortiz #ikepri rio #ikemen prince rio #ikepri rio ortiz #ikemen prince rio ortiz #rio ortiz x reader #rio ortiz x gn reader #gn reader ikepri #ikepri gn reader #ikemen series #my ikemen valentine gift exchange

[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.

#also praying that I have the correct meanings for these flowers #I did some research but every source says something a little bit different ;-; #if there are any inaccuracies it was me and not leonardo lol #at any rate I really hope you enjoy!! it was a lot of fun to write for you!! #ikemen vampire #my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikevamp #ikevamp leonardo

[daegupaksu]

Sorry for the wait!!! My exchange for @ohtomatotome

Also thank you again @ikemenlibrary for hosting yet another exchange event!

Sebastian's surprised & impressed with MC's tempering skills~

#aki's art #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire sebastian #akihiko satou #my ikemen valentine gift exchange #gift exchange #art #cybird ikemen series

[ikemenlibrary]

My Ikémen Valentine Gift Exchange Masterlist

Thank you all once again for another great and successful exchange! I can't wait to see you all soon :) <3

The Gentle Stag Spell of Love | Keith Howell x MC | by @queengiuliettafirstlady for keithsandwich

A Sweet Taste | Silvio Ricci x Emma (MC) | by @keithsandwich for goustmilk

Love Letters (Artwork) | Nokto Klein x Noele (OC) | by @goustmilk for drachonia

Chocolates & Cake (Artwork) | Jin Grandet x Lenore (OC) | by @drachonia for randonauticrap

Silent Letters to My Beloved | Rio Ortiz x Gender Neutral Reader | by @randonauticrap for coderealizes

A Chance Event | Clavis Lelouch x Female Reader | by @coderealizes for pondlilies00

A Trip Away (Artwork) | Nokto Klein x MC | by @pondlilies00 for maeko-kun

Give Me The Smile in Your Heart (Artwork) | Vlad x MC | by @maeko-kun for tacogawa

Under The Trees (Artwork) | Leon Dompteur x Julie (OC) | by @tacogawa for queengiuliettafirstlady

Together | Cyran Rose x AU Emma (MC) | by @violettduchess for readerinsertfiction

Fate | Comte de Saint Germain x MC | by readerinsertfiction for ikemenlibrary

Valentines in Wonderland | Luka Clemence x Alice (MC) | by @readerinsertfanfiction for bluejay-writes

Puppy Love Picnic | Silvio Ricci x Airin (OC) | by @bluejay-writes for airin-queenz

Sweet's Love (Artwork) | Keith Howell x Emma (MC) | by @airin-queenz for ridiculouslly-ridiculous

Finding Home Within You | Leon Dompteur x Emma (MC) | by @ridiculouslly-ridiculous for chirp-a-chirp

Revolve | Isaac Newton x Mitsuki (MC) | by @chirp-a-chirp for fang-and-feather

A Taste of Domesticity | Isaac Newton x Reader | by @fang-and-feather for bicayaya

How To Take Care of a Sick MC | Keith Howell x Emma (MC) | by @bicayaya for pillowpillowillow

Love Potion for Two | Clavis Lelouch x Emma (MC) | by @pillowpillowillo for kalims-pessimist-bestie

Take a Break | Jin Grandet x Oliver (OC) | by @kalims-pessimist-bestie for olivermorningstar

Evening Ride With You (Artwork) | Licht Klein x Emma (MC) | by @olivermorningstar for xbalayage

A Hidden Feeling | Silvio Ricci x Reader | by @xbalayage for violettduchess

It's You. You're My Kink | Clavis Lelouch x Emma (MC) | by @ohtomatotome for kokorokai

Sweeter Than Chocolate | Lancelot Kingsley x Alice (MC) | by @kokorokai for daegupaksu

Tempering Chocolate (Artwork) | Sebastian x Mitsuki (MC) | by @daegupaksu for ohtomatotome

Smarty Pants | Leonardo da Vinci x MC | by @sunnyikemen for technicolorbirds

Haunted Dreams | Licht Klein x Emma (MC) | by @technicolorbirds for midwinterrmomento

Flower Language | Leonardo da Vinci x MC | by @midwinterrmemento for sunnyikemen

#my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikemen prince #ikemen vampire #ikemen revolution #masterlist

[drachonia]

Long time no see! This is my piece I made for the loveliest of lovelies @randonauticrap! I chose to make a piece of a character I don't usually see much of, Jin. Hope Lenore likes the personalized chocolates. <3

#my ikemen valentine gift exchange #hope you like it L! <3 #drac draws #ikemen prince #ikemen prince oc #ikepri oc #ikepri jin #jin grandet

[fang-and-feather]

A Taste of Domesticity

Ikemen Vampire - Isaac x Reader

My gift to @bicayaya for the My Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary. Hope you like it!!

It was hard to believe your luck, to have the entire mansion to yourselves. You would even suspect everyone made plans for Valentine’s somewhere else on purpose, if they hadn’t invited you along as well.

Well, Arthur did, at least. A couple of days before, when hearing Isaac hadn’t planned anything for the holiday, he insisted you go on a double date. But it wasn’t that you didn’t have plans, it was just that you and Isaac had chosen to stay home and have a relaxing Valentine’s.

So far, you had done nothing particularly aimed at celebrating Valentine’s, just taking advantage of the peace and each other’s company. You slept a little late, had a nice breakfast, then settled in the living room, with a couple of blankets and the lit fireplace. Isaac tinkering with some pieces you had no idea what they were for, and you lying on his lap with a book.

Some would say that didn’t count as a date, especially for Valentine’s, but if you and Isaac agreed it was, how could it not?

You prepared lunch while Isaac finished his work, then had a calm lunch before, and, after that, while Isaac returned to the living room, you prepared some hot cocoa for the two of you. When you walked back into the room, you found Isaac looking through a window, apparently deep in thought, because he didn’t even notice you. So you set the tray on the coffee table and approached him.

“Did you want to have gone somewhere?” You placed a hand over his shoulder and kissed his cheek, making him jump before turning to look at you, looking a little flustered.

You thought he would rather stay home, although you only proposed so because you would rather stay too. But had you read him wrong, and Isaac only agreed to stay because he thought you would like that?

“No. I like when it’s just the two of us.” Isaac took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. “I was just… thinking. I wanted to make something special for tea later.”

“By yourself?” You pulled him along to the sofa and handed him one of the steaming mugs.

“Hey! I can handle cooking.”

His cheeks gained the pink of his eyes, and - he would probably deny it, though - he pouted, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at how cute he looked.

“That’s not what I meant.” You caressed his cheek, then ran your thumb over his pouting lips. “I just thought we could do it together.”

“But you already made breakfast and lunch.” He took a long sip of the chocolate before continuing. “And now this. You could rest.”

“I’m fine. I thought it could be fun to do this one together.” You also took a sip of your own drink, choosing the best words to convey your feelings. “Besides, I think we already spent enough time apart, don’t you think? What do you say?”

“If you insist.” He muttered, turning away and drinking more of the chocolate, in a poor attempt to hide blushing cheeks and a tiny smile.

But such a curt response also told you his mind was still on something else.

“You don’t sound like you want my help.” You pouted, leaning forward, feigning offense.

“No!” He spun back to face you, blushing even harder. “I mean… I would love your company. I just…”

You chuckled and kissed him.

“I was joking. You looked so out of it that I couldn’t resist. Do you know what you want to make?”

“I was thinking of a cake, like the one you made for my birthday. Would it be too much for the two of us?”

“We can always make a smaller cake. I would like to make something only for the two of us.”

You shared a kiss, tasting faintly of cocoa, forgetting your worries, and enjoying each other’s warmth.

A cooking book tucked under one arm, you headed for the kitchen, Isaac carrying the now empty mugs. He was blushing from the moment you left the library, and you wrapped your other hand around his waist when he insisted on carrying the cups.

It was funny and quite cute how, despite getting used to physical intimacy, the moment you changed things a little, he got that flustered.

“Is such a… simple day what you really wanted for Valentine’s?” Isaac asked, not looking at you.

“Of course. When else do we have the opportunity to have a day just for us like this? Isn’t this what Valentine's is about?”

Isaac nodded, seeming again to be deep in thought.

“What is on your mind?”

“I will tell you when I figure it out.” He gave you a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

When you arrived at the kitchen and Isaac finally saw his hands free, he turned around and kissed your forehead, then your lips, where he lingered a little.

They were simple touches, but the way he did it felt almost reverent, in a way that made your heart melt.

“What was that for?”

“Because I love you.” He answered, caressing your cheek.

It was rare for Isaac to be so smooth with his words. Moments like these only made you fall deeper in love with him.

Looping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer.

“I love you too.” You whispered, before kissing him back.

Isaac’s arms wrapped around your waist, and the two of you stayed there for a moment, bodies pressed to each other as you shared more light kisses, then a little longer just hugging in silence. Breaking apart was as difficult as if you wouldn’t be seeing each other after it. But it was just that your hearts felt so warm in each other’s embrace that you were reluctant to let go.

You finally parted with quick laughter but lingering smiles in the following silence, all of it a bit awkward, Isaac’s cheeks faintly pink, and you had no doubt yours were in the same state.

He started looking through the book as you washed the used mugs. When you were done, you took a deep breath, trying to dissipate that awkwardness as you walked to his side, purposefully letting your bodies touch, which startled him a little, but he smiled at you.

“Is there anything you want in particular?”

“No. You’re the chef for now. I’ll just be your assistant, since you said I’ve been the one cooking until now. I want to do this together, but I will follow your orders, boss.”

This again had him blushing and turning his attention back to the book, which he flipped through a few more pages before finding something, and although you could perfectly read the recipe from your spot, you waited for instructions.

But that led to a moment more of silence, Isaac fidgeting a little. You watched him open and close his mouth a few times and visibly gulp as he played with a lock of his hair, eyes glued to the page, but certainly not paying attention to any words.

You resisted the urge to remind him how much more demanding he had been last night. How could he get so shy at simply giving instructions like that? Was it just because you called him boss?

“Uh, can you… ge-get these ingredients for me, please?” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Yes, sir!” This time you couldn’t help but answer, kissing his cheek and chuckling as he froze, and when you thought you heard a low “Don’t say that” or something similar.

“I will behave.” You answered, even if you weren’t sure what you heard, and this time his answer was audible enough, despite still being shyly low.

“I don’t think we’ll be finishing this if you keep that up.”

You stole a glance at him, catching sight of a dangerous glint in his eyes. The eyes of the wolf hidden behind his usually shy, cute, and sweet behavior.

“Sorry.” As tempting as it was, you would save the teasing for later.

“No. It’s fine.” Isaac hurried to reply.

You worked in silence for a while after that. Or tried to work. Hard to do when your attention was more often than not on Isaac. He measured and mixed things with such focus that was fascinating to watch.

Getting your attention back to work, you walked around him to find sugar on the other side, but found yourself accidentally bumping into him on the way, both of you startling a little. And it kept happening while you worked. One of you would brush or bump into the other, as if the kitchen were too small. Or maybe your bodies just couldn’t stand being that apart.

Isaac got over his shyness and very into the job quickly after that, gently giving instructions.

That did not save you from incidents. The first time he did ask for something and you handed it to him, your fingers brushed, and Isaac, startled, pulled his hand back. You were quick enough to hold the bag before it fell, but it was a bag of flour, and a little was hoisted into the air, especially over Isaac.

“Sorry.” He mumbled and then sneezed.

You chuckled and stepped closer, setting the bag over the counter and whipping the white powder from his face and hair, then kissing his nose.

“Don’t worry.” That was not what you had in mind, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t tease him.

That was almost so cliche you couldn’t believe it did happen.

But work went smoothly from there. You still shared lots of accidental touches when walking past, reaching for something or handing things to each other, but Isaac only blushed and smiled at you.

The only other incident was you almost cutting your finger because you were paying more attention to Isaac. He didn’t let you handle anything he deemed dangerous after that.

But it was something special to cook together. You had done so with others before, but despite these small incidents, there was a surprising synchrony in the way you worked with your boyfriend, and it made you feel so happy.

It almost felt like you were newlyweds. Would you do this more often if you lived on your own?

The cake finished, Isaac started cleaning without being prompted, so you mixed the icing while watching him work. You hadn’t expected Isaac to wash the dishes, you never got such a domestic sense from him.

“You will spill it if you don’t pay attention.” He warned, as he noticed you were staring. But that attitude was ineffective when he was blushing that hard.

“I just didn’t expect you to offer to clean, too. Isn’t it what assistants are for?”

“I was the one who chose to cook. And you’re not my assistant. You’re my girlfriend, and you have already done enough for me today.”

If you weren’t distracted before, you sure were now, with him speaking again with such conviction that always made you feel all fuzzy inside. You would have hugged him if your hands weren’t otherwise occupied.

So you turned your attention back to your work, but seeing it looked ready, you scooped a little into the spoon and offered it to Isaac.

“Here, chef. Try it.”

Isaac stared at you for a moment, then looked down at the spoon you held out and back again, turning redder with each second, before he leaned down and, instead of eating the icing in the spoon, licked the spill he found on your arm, making the area burn and tingle, even after he pulled away.

“We’re done with cooking. I’m just your boyfriend now. So, will you stop trying to provoke me before I have to prove you?”

His voice sounded so needy and sexy that it took all of your willpower to nod. Only because you didn’t want your hard work to burn, though.

Isaac took a deep breath and kissed your cheek.

“Later, okay? And I will do whatever you want.” Isaac said, cheeks again a deep crimson, and he hastily turned away to check the oven.

When you sat down to eat, Isaac insisted on cutting the cake. He picked up the first slice and took a forkful of it, offering it to you.

“Will you do the honors?”

You weren’t sure if he was just being sweet or if it was revenge for earlier, but also feeling a little embarrassed, you ate it.

Isaac gave you a whole slice, with which you returned the gesture, and that was how you finished these.

Each of you picked up a new piece, but besides that, Isaac didn’t touch his, looking deep in thought again. He’d done it so much today. But you didn’t ask, since he said he would tell you when he was ready.

Isaac caught you looking and smiled at you, picking up a napkin and whipping away a bit of icing at the corner of your mouth.

“Has today been to your liking so far?” He asked softly, looking at you with such a loving smile that your heart skipped a beat.

“Of course. Was it to yours?”

“It was. And it was unexpected what a difference having the house to ourselves made. Especially cooking together. It…” At this, he paused, looking down briefly, cheeks tinging of pink again, before he met your eyes, looking determined. “It almost felt like we were newlyweds.” So he was thinking the same thing. That made you happy. To think even your thoughts were so in sync. “And… you noticed I’ve been thinking… I wasn’t sure what to tell you about this. I like it here, as annoying as certain people can be. I am thankful to Comte for everything… and I know you like it here so far too, but…” Your eyes widened as he rambled. Could this be leading to what you thought it was? “I was thinking… if you want, we could start thinking about finding a place of our own. A place closer to the city, but maybe somewhere close enough that we could come visit occasionally.”

“Yes.” You almost shouted, hugging him. “I would love living with you.”

“Really?!” Isaac cupped your cheek and kissed you. “I was wondering if it wasn’t a little inappropriate, but… I guess we are already past that.” His smile turned sheepish. “Won’t you be lonely on your own while I’m at the university?”

“No. I can be on my own for a few hours if that means we can have more moments like this. Besides, I might keep working here for a while, at least until we convince Comte to hire more help. And then maybe I could find a proper job and… Well, we can think of it later. But I’m looking forward to it.”

You kissed him. Not the chaste kisses you had been sharing so far, but a sensual kiss that lasted until you were out of breath.

“Me too. And we still have a lot to think about, and have to actually find a place, but for now, shouldn’t we finish this cake? I still haven’t shown you your Valentine’s gift and… I guess I have a promise to make true of after dinner.”

#my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikemen vampire #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic

[ohtomatotome]

It's You. You're My Kink.

Recipient: @kokorokai as part of the ‘My Ikémen Valentine' Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary

Characters: (Ikemen Prince) Clavis Lelouch and MC/Emma. Established relationship

Recipient’s Request: 🌶 NSFW content with a dominant Clavis

Premise: He knows she knows his weakness is alcohol and his fetish is her thighs.  But he doesn't know her weaknesses, fetishes, kinks, or fantasies. It's time to force some sexy secrets out of his lovely lover. Written from Clavis’s PoV.

Content Tags: consensual, soft dom, cunnilingus, sensory play, blindfold, light bondage/restraints, ropes, temperature play, spanking/impact play, anal toys, dildo, vibrators, ball gag, orgasm control, edging, begging, praise.

Word count: 7,500

Author's Notes are at the end of the story.

TITLE: It's You. You're My Kink.

Emma unwrapped the gift box and took out a skein of lavender shibari rope and leather wrist restraints. There was a pause as she held them in her hands before giving me a dubious glance. 

Oh? Already wary, are we? Heh, heh.

“I’d make a guess that you are inviting me to be your ‘lovely accomplice’ in setting up traps, but … Clavis, this … is not your usual rope for traps. And this.” She dangled the cuff from her fingers, “isn’t usually part of your traps, either. I’d hope, anyway?!?” A strained giggle, paired with her eyebrows pulled up together in confusion made an exquisite reaction.

Ah, well, let me spell it out so she’s not taken unawares when the fun begins tomorrow.

“What’s that? You say you would love to enjoy some alone time with your handsome prince? And you give your consent for some kinky fun? Oh, Emma, I’m so happy you decided to accept my invitation!” 

I noticed her eyes widened at the mention of ‘kinky’. Oh ho. 

My meaningful gaze bore down on her and I gave her my most wicked smirk.

“Oh! Oh, that’s what this is about? Clavis, your ruses and … gifts always make me second-guess myself. At first I thought it had to do with something sexy, but that’s not usually your style to be so obvious, so I was stumped.” This time, Emma’s giggle was adorably genuine.

The smirk still firmly in place, I waited a moment for her to continue. For her to give the answer I was certain of. For her to say ‘yes’.

But she only just looked at me, mild amusement on her face and nothing else coming out of her pretty mouth. 

Well.

I cleared my throat, “Aaaaand, my lovely lover? What is your answer? Do you give me your consent to try all manner of delicious deviant deeds this weekend?”

At this, her perfect cheeks turned a ripe shade of strawberry pink. 

Hm, yes that’s more like it.

She asked, “...all manner? Like what?”

Just as I was about to open my mouth and give her a most ambiguous answer, she hurriedly spoke again.

“Nevermind! I don’t think I want to know ahead of time. I trust you. Yes, darling, you have my consent for … kinky things.” Her hesitation towards the end came with downcast eyes and even redder cheeks. 

Excellent, excellent.

I clapped my hands once in triumph, crowing, “Wonderful! You can leave all the travel preparations to me. All you need to do is pack your own bag.”

I leaned forward so my face filled her view, and pitched my voice lower and with seriousness, without a trace of my usual flamboyance, “Listen closely.” 

She stiffened at this unfamiliar tone, curious eyes never once leaving mine.  

“This is what you will pack: 4 pairs of panties and bras, your most comfortable robe, and the new corset you will find in your bottom dresser drawer. That is all. You don’t need anything else to wear on this trip. Nod if you understand.”

Emma hesitated, looking as if she had a question to ask, but then nodded. A timid smile was creeping across her lips. 

I wanted very much to kiss it off her face, and then keep kissing her until we were both breathless. 

Instead, I kept my composure and merely said, “Good girl. Be ready to go in the morning. Good night, and sweet dreams. I love you.”

After a kiss to her forehead – mm-hmm, her hair smelled heavenly – I stood up to leave. 

“Uh- um, good night, darling. I love you, too.” 

I closed the door and inhaled deeply. Why did no one warn me that practicing dominance meant that you also were to be exercising extreme self-control on yourself?? Augh! 

I had seen a heated glimmer in her eyes, something I’m sure was not there before I gave her her packing orders. 

Good. Good. 

The experiment was off to a smashing start. I had intended to begin the kink level low, even before we reached my manor. This first part was intended to dictate her actions. By commanding what she must pack, my words and presence would continue to be with her as she is packing. She’ll be thinking about me all night and morning, long before she even sees me in the carriage. Every time she looks at her suitcase, she’ll be reminded of my strong tone of voice.

I wonder if she liked that experience tonight?

Emma liked it. Liked it very, very much. She sat on the sofa for a good long while, savoring the intimidating and arousing aura that Clavis had directed at her. It was so new!

When she finally pulled out the corset he had mentioned, she swallowed hard. This wasn’t a pretty lace and satin thing of lingerie. It was leather, well-stitched and expertly made for durability and comfort. It was an elegant shade of lilac, with an almost pearlescent sheen. Beautiful, actually. There were buckles and straps, metal eyelets and rings attached at various places that had nothing to do with the closures. 

Now that she looked at it with a critical eye, the row of three black and gold straps across the front mimicked Clavis’s short uniform coat. She bit back a chuckle at her fiance's audacity before setting to work with packing only the essentials he had mentioned, all the while her imagination filled with images of him.

“Stand here. Don’t move from this spot.”

We had reached my manor without incident, and I immediately went to work on my experiment to discover Emma’s hidden kinks. I removed my white overcoat, boots, and scabbard, placing them on the bench by the bedroom door. Watching her as I loosened the buttons of my lilac jacket and returned in a slow stroll, I noticed she was clutching nervously at her skirt. But she never took a step.

“Should I take off my clothes, too?” Her question was touched with anxiety.

“No,” I cooed, “You only need to do what I tell you to. For right now, place your feet a little further apart so you have better balance. Yes, like that. Well done.”

I delivered my praise with a light caress to her temple. I was pleased to see the glow of warmth was back in her exquisite eyes. My bunny must be liking this already. I wonder what is going on inside that brilliant mind of hers right now?

I slid the dark violet cravat off my collar and stepped around behind her.  Silently, I tied it around her head as a blindfold. Only when I was certain it was secure and she couldn’t see, did I lean in close to her ear to whisper huskily, “First: a little sensory deprivation to heighten your other senses.” 

She flinched at my nearness, but relaxed soon enough. Next it was time for the wrist cuffs. These were a thing of beauty, crafted by the same skilled leather worker who built Emma’s custom corset. They were made of white leather with padding on the inside and edges, adjustable buckle, and reinforced D-rings. Expertly designed to my specifications.

I gracefully slid my palm down from her shoulder to her wrist, stopping there to encircle her delicate wrist within my thumb and forefinger. Just a moment, just long enough to give her a hint of what was coming. I put one cuff on that wrist, tightening the strap until it was almost flush to her skin. “Tell me: Is that too tight?”

She shook her head. I saw it, but this wouldn’t do. Had she forgotten already? 

I tapped her lips with my gloved finger. “Use your words, darling. You must answer out loud when I ask you a question. Now try again: Is this too tight?”

“No. …sir.” The second word was added with apprehension, as if she wasn’t sure she should use the term or not. 

Sir? 

Hm. I certainly didn’t order her to call me that. Had she read such things in her romance novels? I didn’t want her thinking of those fictional men when I’m right here. Hm. Hmmmm. No. No, I didn’t like it. She needed to call me by my name, dammit.

I held her chin with my thumb to get her attention. “Listen closely: You are to call me Clavis. Not ‘sir’, not ‘master’, not anything else. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Clavis,” her answer was confident now. 

Good. Very good. 

I let go of her chin and put on the other wrist cuff, then snapped the rings of both cuffs together so her hands were bound in the front. She still would have the use of her hands. The object of the cuffs was to give her a small taste of being restrained while I tease the rest of her body.

The next thing was a ball gag. I had made sure to choose the most breathable, most comfortable one intended for beginners. Despite those precautions, I was still worried she might find this item repulsive. Positioning it in front of her mouth, but still an inch away, I warned her, “I have something to put in your mouth. It’s meant to stay there and keep you from talking. If you don’t like how it feels, use the non-verbal sign on tapping me twice to remove it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Clavis.” My lovely fiance opened her mouth obediently. 

Such a glorious sight. I wanted to fall to my knees and weep with joy. 

But no. No. I must continue to be the one in control. 

The Dom. 

Right. Back to work.

I set the ball inside her mouth, ordering her to bite down slightly to hold it while I fastened the strap on the side of her head. I waited a moment while watching her face for any signs of discomfort or revulsion. There came none. Just placid trust and patience. 

Oh, my sweet, sweet Emma. Well done. Very good. You're being so good for me.

This deserved a reward … which just happened to also be a test. I stepped close to her side, my chest touching her shoulder. My arms encircled her waist to hold her upright as my mouth came a hair-breadth away from her ear. I sighed softly, letting the warm air waft before I assaulted the shell of the ear with kisses, toothy nibbles, and noisy sucking. I didn’t let up until she was fully squirming and seemed unsteady on her feet. But not once did she safe-tap me to stop.

“Ah, your ear is so sensitive now, hm?” I whispered before flicking my tongue out to tickle her ear lobe. 

She jerked her head away in surprise, but my arms kept her balanced. I chuckled breathily as her face relaxed and leaned towards me once again. I kissed her cheek, down her jaw, and the side of her neck. 

Emma’s muted breathing grew heavier the lower my lips went. Where her blouse collar began I sucked and nipped to leave a splendid mark. I admired it a moment before moving my hands; one to grip the hair at the base of her neck, the other to slowly snake across her stomach and down, traveling over the waistband of her skirt. 

I could feel her quiver under my touch, but still she stayed in place. Oh, I’m so proud of you, my sweetest. My hand fisted in her luscious tresses and pulled gently back and to the side so as to expose more of her pure neck to me. I gave a quick peck to the shell of her ear before trailing kisses down her neck again, this time focusing on the erogenous zone where the neck meets the shoulder. 

Meanwhile, my other hand continued its journey downward over the beautiful swell of her abdomen, palming her pelvic mound. I pushed the tips of my fingers into the crevice at the apex of her thighs. This earned a shudder from her and a gasp muffled by the ball gag.

So delightful. So trusting. So mine. I love her more than words can say. 

I glided my hand upwards to her bound wrists, holding them. My other hand had let go of her hair to settle at the small of her back. 

Humming my approval, I pressed a little kiss to her cheek, “You did so well, darling. Such a good girl for me. Now, let’s make you more comfortable, hm?”

After removing the gag, cuffs, and blindfold, I led her to sit on the edge of the bed. She was flushed, but her eyes were bright with delight and curiosity as I knelt in front of her. My hands rubbed back and forth across the tops of her thighs, ruching up the fabric of her skirt.

“Tell me: How did you like the blindfold? The gag? The wrist cuffs?”

Each question was delivered with as calm a voice as I could muster, even though I was bursting at the seams with excitement to know if anything had her galloping with arousal.

She paused before answering, as if she wasn’t expecting to be reviewed on her experience. I smiled and narrowed my eyes.

“Come, come. I’m not looking for an in-depth analysis. Just let me know if any one thing in particular stood out as a favorite.”

Recognition lit her face, as if she had just come up with an answer. As she took a breath to reply, I began unbuttoning her blouse. This action stopped her before any words came out. 

Heh, heh. I LOVE to keep her on her toes!

“Don’t mind me, darling. Simply multi-tasking while you talk. Go ahead, now. You were about to say the part you liked the best?” I flashed her an innocent smile, and began to kiss the notch of her throat, eager to keep kissing the skin I exposed while I continued unbuttoning.

She raised an eyebrow in skepticism, but spoke anyway, “I liked it when you gave me orders.”

I was in the process of leaning in to kiss the swell of her breast when this admission caught me by surprise.

Ah! 

Darling… ah, my lovely lover. Now it is YOU who have shocked me. Of all the kinky equipment, it was the commands that turned you on the most? 

I smiled into her skin as I sucked her nipple into my mouth, earning a responsive jolt and gasp from her. Oh, does she even know how much that answer pleases me?

I pulled away and nodded as sedately as I could, trying not to show how much her reply affected me. “Hm, I see. Thank you for the feedback, dearest. Now, let us continue the experiment, shall we?”

She quirked her eyebrow once more, but I offered no explanation as I finished undressing her and ordered her to lie face-down on the bed. I ran a knuckle lightly over her shoulder blades, murmuring “good girl” as she got comfortable. 

The second set of implements were intended to expose her to various temperatures and sensations. I was most interested in the last part of this section: impact play. Would my bunny enjoy being spanked, I wonder?

Over the next few minutes, I subjected her unblemished skin to an ice cube melting over the curve of her buttocks, melted wax dripped down her spine, feathers tickling her rib cage, softest cashmere rubbing up the backs of her creamy thighs, and rubberized mitts dagging over her hips. All the while, I gave her orders to either be silent, or be vocal. To either keep still or to wriggle and writhe. 

During the use of the equipment, one of the commands I gave her was to “respond as honestly as you can, however you wish.” 

And what was her adorable answer? “No, please, Clavis. Tell me what to do, what to say. Please?”

I couldn’t help but grin broadly at that, glad she could not see how thrilled I was at her plea. Of course I never let her know my joy. Instead, I bent down so my lips were next to her ear, and she twitched from hearing my threatening tone so close to her, “What’s this? Disobedience? Are you telling me what to do?”

She was quick to shake her head, uttering “Nuh-uh. No. I just … I, um… Sorry? I’ll do my best.”

I straightened up and patted her head proudly. “That’s a good girl.”

It was so cute seeing this new side of her! It seemed as if she was truly enjoying herself in this role. 

We continued, eventually getting to the impact play portion. I propped her hips up on several pillows so her gorgeous ass was raised high, perfectly poised for my hand. 

I noticed a slight glistening of liquid at the lips between her legs. 

Hm. Nice. I hadn’t even touched her there yet. 

I hadn’t warned her what was coming next. As I was rummaging through my case for the leather paddle, she ventured a timid question, “Clavis? Are you going to fuck me now? Is that why you stacked all these pillows under me?”

“So soon? Oh, no. Not yet, my lovely. Before we can get to that, we have so many more experiments to try.” I saturated my voice with wicked pleasure.

Her head dropped to the mattress, letting out a groan of immense disappointment. 

I chuckled, “Oh, don’t sound so discouraged. I thought you were having fun. But …” I paused, inflecting my next words with dramatic self-pity, “... if you’re getting annoyed with me and wish to stop and go back to your books, I’ll understand.”

Emma snorted with amusement. I could sense the frustrated eye-roll she was giving me. “No. ….Ugh, no. Don’t – “ she huffed, pausing a second as if she needed to recollect her submissive act. “PLEASE don’t stop, Clavis. Please?”

I was more than happy to oblige her eager entreaty. She was scrumptious when she acted like this: wanton for me to fill her, but pliant enough to go along with my schemes. I was rock-hard already, my already tight white pants made all the tighter.

“Mm-hm, you asked so nicely. I suppose I could continue.” I rested my gloved hand on her soft bottom, to hint at what was coming. “This next part may be a little intense, darling. So please remember to use the safe-word if you need me to stop. Okay?”

She meekly answered, “Yes, Clavis, I understand.”

“That’s my girl.” I began slowly tapping her butt cheeks lightly, alternating randomly between sides. Then increased the tempo. Then the force, just a bit. 

Her ass was slightly pink. Like a peach. Mmmm… so juicy, I could take a bite of that velvety flesh. Fuuuuuck, I want her now.

No.

Not yet.

I removed my gloves and ran my hands soothingly over the skin, reveling in the warmth and softness, trying to rein myself in.

She hadn’t made a sound until my bare palm met her skin – that’s when Emma gave a happy fluttering sigh, like the releasing of doves. 

Oh, my sparkling jewel. My beautiful bride-to-be. My everything. How can one exhale from you do such things to my soul?

I took a deep breath and pulled my hand back, aiming for the next series of spankings. Each got progressively harder and closer to her center, near her lips. Droplets of clear nectar dotted the pillows beneath her. It coated my hand more and more as I slapped her pussy. But still she only moaned. She gave no signs of pain or reaching her limit. Marvelous.

I stopped to wipe my sticky hand on a towel, rewarding her with a low-pitched “You’re such a good girl for me. Now, I’ll need you to count each spank, okay? Can you do that for me?”

There was an immediate nod and “Yes, Clavis!”

Again, my domineering posing was protected by her not seeing the big smile I wore. Honestly, I don’t think she had ever been this complaint before. And she seemed so happy to be in this role!

I decided to leave that pondering for a later time, as there was a perky red ass waiting to be slapped right now. I picked up the paddle, and slowly sounded out several hits to the globe of her cheeks, sweeping upwards to channel the force away. She counted as each one turned her skin darker, making it glow with heat. 

I stopped my motions, using the cashmere to soothe her inflamed ass and offer a change in sensation. 

“Very, very good, dearest.” I picked up an ice cube as I asked, “Now, time for more feedback. Which of these experiences did you like best?”

As if to remind her of where we started, I slid the ice over her buttocks to cool them down. She gasped and shrieked almost in the same breath, jerking her hips at the cold sensation. I kept the ice moving quickly, so as to disperse as much healing coolness as possible. It melted within seconds. 

God, her cheeks were red and taut like a ripe plum. She looked good enough to eat.

Ah … That was an excellent idea. 

It might be slightly ahead of schedule, but I needed to do SOMETHING to clean up that rivulet running down her inner thigh before it completely drenched the pillows.

She hadn’t answered my question yet.

Hm.

I knelt on the bed behind her and between her legs, gently spreading her thighs with my hands, getting ready to tease her entrance with my tongue as soon as she started speaking.

“Tsk, tsk, I asked a question. You need to answer. Now.”

Emma began, “Well, I re–EEEE! Ah, mmmm!”

I had lapped ravenously at her juices, rejoicing at the lewd sounds it made. And at her own vocal additions, too, of course. I loved her squeals, her moans, her gasps, her groans. 

I pulled away just long enough to give her a warning, the hungry growl in my voice not intentional, “Answer, Emma,” before diving back in to finish cleaning her up. 

I could get drunk on how she tasted, how she smelled. The musky fragrance filled my lungs. How much longer could I hold out before needing to have her?

She managed to eek out a few words, no semblance of formal sentence structure to be found. Something along the lines of, “Commands. You, your touch. With orderssss. ….f-force me. Love spanking. Pleeeeease, please…. More, more control.” 

Those were the words I was able to make out between the whines.

Hm.

She wants to be controlled more? That fit well into my next set of plans.

I petted her hair fondly as I gave her time to come down from the stimulation. “Very well, my lovely fiance. You’ve done so well for me. I think you’re liking this, aren’t you?”

She turned her head my way and dared a glance up. I knelt next to the bed so she wouldn’t have to strain her neck to see me. Her face was beet-red, eyes moist and dreamy, a sleepy smile on her lips. She had caught her breath by now.

“I am. Oh, I am, Clavis. But …” She bit her lip, eyes sliding away from mine.

I knew that look. I LOVED that look. She wanted something, but was feeling foolish for asking. I wanted to pull the truth out of her. Tease it gently, unravel it thread by thread until her innermost wishes were laid bare, safe and vulnerable in my hands.

I began to stroke her hair again, and her eyelids immediately fell shut in contentment. Soft as a summer breeze, I asked “But what, my love? You must tell me, or I’ll never know.”

Her relaxed features twisted suddenly in annoyance, eyes no longer moony but now flashing with sparks. I stopped petting her, doing my best to keep a look of total innocence on my face.

Of course I knew what she wanted.

I wanted it, too.

But not yet.

…Not. Yet.

“Clavis. I want you to make love to me. You already know; I said it before. Please? Don’t … don’t make me ask for it again.”

“Ohhhh, that. Hm,” my tone was non-committal, teasing. I leaned in to kiss her temple, smiling where she couldn’t see me. “Don't worry, I will satisfy you completely. In due time, in due time. But before that can happen, there are just a few more experiences I need you to have, and then review.”

I was being an absolute villain. I was pushing the bounds of her patience. 

Would she angrily stomp out of here, cursing my name? 

Or would she remain, but grow sullen and cold to my touches?

A plaintive whine left her throat, surprising me. Emma's gaze smoldered, the fiery frustration giving way to a simmering desire. And there was something else in her face … was it uncertainty? She reached out to grip my wrist, a silent request. 

What was this about? Was she unwell after all? For a moment, my mask slipped. Concern pinched my brows. My voice was naked, forgetting to dress up in neither dominance nor feigned innocence, “Emma? Are you really okay with continuing?”

She must have sensed my seriousness, because she squeezed my wrist in reassurance before letting go as she nodded. “Yes, truly. I’m sorry if I made you worry. I only whined because … because I am so SO ready for you, and I don’t want to wait any longer. But most of all, I don’t want to beg. And it … it feels like you are pushing me to the brink in hopes of making me beg, like I’m some dog,” her pretty mouth turned down in disgust, “Is that what you are doing? Please, be honest, just this once, no tricks. What is your aim in all these sexy experiments?”

Ah.

So this is something new I have learned about her. Fascinating.

“Sweetest. Darling. I admit I am trying to find out your limits for certain things, but not the boundary you’d cross for begging. My aim, hm? I promise I’ll tell you when all the tests are done. So you keep your pleas unspoken, I do not want you to beg. I only want your honest reactions. I won’t leave you unfulfilled.”

“Promise? I feel like you’re teasing me much more than usual.” A pout began to form on her luscious lips. 

“I promise.” I brushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear and pressed another kiss to her temple before standing up. “Now, let’s have you sit up so I can put one little thing on you before you lie on your back.”

My goodness, what a glorious sight. 

Was there any man on this earth as lucky as me, to be blessed with seeing his lovely lover trussed up, spread out, and waiting in complete trust? I stood back to take in the full view, and swallowed hard. 

I had taken great delight in lacing her up in the custom-made corset, seeing the leather pulling taut against her breasts. Her wrists were back in the cuffs, attached to the headboard. One leg was bent at the knee, pulled back as far to her torso as was comfortable, and then bound in that position with the lavender rope. Her other leg was restrained at a similar angle in a white leather straps to match her cuffs (a gentleman makes sure his lady’s accessories always match), clipped to the rings in the side of her corset. 

It was an uncoordinated sort of look, more slap-dash than I had originally planned. Also, I was irked at not getting to try out the nipple clamps, but they wouldn’t work at the same time as having her wear the corset. 

Was I rushing the schedule? 

Perhaps.

Was I loading up all the implements and toys in one go, instead of one at a time like I had originally planned?

Maybe.

Was it because I was hanging on to my self-control by a thread?

Yes.

Yes, absolutely.

I had been straining at the front of my trousers so tightly that I decided to remove them and everything else I was wearing.

“Comfortable, darling?” I asked as I walked around to the head of the bed once more. Emma eyed my erection greedily, licking her lips. 

But she only said, “Yes, Clavis.” 

Her voice was sweetly obedient. The sound of it made me proud enough to crow from the rooftops.

“Then let’s begin our last set of experiences. You asked for me to be even more controlling, so that’s exactly what I’ll be doing. Don’t forget to use the safe-word if you need to. Do keep in mind that I will be asking for feedback. So try to keep track of how everything I do makes you feel.” 

I kissed her full on the mouth quickly – too quickly so she wouldn’t have time to reciprocate – then gave her a cheeky wink before strolling to the foot of the bed, where I had a tray waiting with lube and various toys, plugs, dildos, and vibrators.

Choices, choices.

Where to start?

I looked adoringly at the two holes presented to me: one inviting and glistening, the other shy and puckered closed. Hidden at the top of this sight was the precious little rosebud that led to the high-pitched squeals I loved so much.

Deciding to start out slow with minimal invasion, I lubed up the tiny anal probe vibrator and smeared a dollop at the entrance of her ass. I felt her shiver at the touch, yet I pushed in slowly, slowly with the tip of my finger until it was finally granted at admittance. Emma gasped. I slid the probe in next to my finger until it was all the way in where it needed to be. Then I moved my finger in and out slowly a few times to help that area relax, to get her familiar with the sensation. 

When I pulled my finger out, I pressed a lubed-up anal plug to the entrance until it sunk in. There came a tiny groan from my lady love. The facets of the princess-cut amethyst at the end of the plug caught the light and twinkled at me. I couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction at the view. I decided right at that moment to buy her matching amethyst earrings made with the same exact cut. It would be our own little private joke when she wears them in public.

“Turning it on, my dove,” I crooned a warning before toggling the switch on the probe.

“Huh? Turning wha–aaAHH!” Her hips jolted off the bed as soon as the vibrator went to work in her pert little asshole. 

Miniscule moans were uttered from the head of the bed as I began to prepare the next toy: a dildo with a harness that connected to her corset rings to keep in place, so it wouldn’t get pushed out in her exertion. It was needed since my hands would be busy elsewhere. No lube was needed for this one; she was already wet enough to have a pool gathering on the purple towel underneath her. I rubbed the head and shaft along her folds, coating it in her essence. 

This earned an audible inhale from her; does she know how her sounds drive me mad with lust? 

I pushed it in slowly, letting her adjust to the size. It was another custom-designed item, made especially for tonight. She hadn’t seen this dildo before, but if she had there would have been recognition in the length and girth, even the slight angle. Of course it was a product of my ego. But if she was going to have anything inside her besides me, then I wanted to be like me in every way possible. 

Once it was in all the way up to the hilt, I pulled it out at a lazy drag asking, “Still feeling fine, sweetest?”

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed while wiggling her hips to bring back some friction. The restraints of leather and rope made this futile effort extremely entertaining. I gave her what she wanted: I thrust the toy in and out repeatedly at her favorite pace. The languid moans rose in frequency and pitch. 

God, she was magnificent.

I. Needed. Her. Now. 

I held onto my sanity long enough to thrust it in one last time before attaching it to the harness. A questioning whine came from her throat as she saw me move to the side of the bed with the tray. From her vantage point, she wouldn’t be able to see the vibrators I was going to use. 

Okay, time to get into the role, Clavis. 

You can do this. 

This is the last big hurrah. Time to finish things up exactly how she’d like. With complete control. 

I wonder: when she asked me to take more control, did she have any premonition that I’d be ending the experiment with edging and orgasm control?

I began to tease her clit with the lowest setting on the most gentle toy. Switched over to a powerful wand for an intense but short time. Then switched to an intermediate one, moving all the way through the speeds, gauging her reactions. I was careful to keep an ear to her breathing while watching the telltale signs of her hips. 

All the while I was changing the toys to keep her on her toes, I was issuing commands. Things like: countdown from 5, stay silent, moan loudly, scream my name (that one was fun), keep still, don’t you dare cum yet, etc. 

Each time she obeyed, I rewarded her with a “good girl” and a deep kiss. Sometimes I just kissed her through the exquisite trials of a particular vibrator. Other times I slowly massaged her sensitive bundle of nerves with my thumb, sometimes my tongue. I lavished attention on that treasure until her chest was heaving with exertion and the breathing was ragged. 

I had lost count of the times I brought her almost up the edge and then brought her back down. 

I moved all the vibrators aside and sat on the edge of the bed so she could see my face. 

This goddess, this angel, was mine. Completely mine. 

Sweat-soaked face, eyes glazed over with lust, lips dry from panting, hair a total mess. 

She had never been lovelier.

And never once did she beg. No plea of “Just let me cum!” There had been plenty of cursing and saying my name as if it was a curse itself. Lots of delicious moaning, gasping, squealing, and sighing. But no begging.

Amazing. My Emma was simply amazing.

I let her catch her breath before I reached out to cup her cheek and ask, “Now, if you please, I would like some feed-”

…”CLAVIS.” Her hoarse voice was serious. As were her eyes. 

I stopped talking immediately, my attention entirely on what she thought was important enough to interrupt our review. My elegant eyebrows lifted in silent inquiry.

“No feedback,” was all she said.

I echoed her, asking “No feedback?”

“No feedback,” she repeated.

“Care to elaborate, dearest?” I cooed while stroking the side of her face with my thumb.

“No.”

I started to panic a little. She hadn’t used the safe-word, so I had thought she was enjoying being endlessly edged to hell and back. Had I been wrong? Had I missed a cue? Did I hurt her, and she was just being brave? Was she angry with me? 

Something resembling concern must have made it through my mask of dominance, for she sighed and added, “I’m not injured or sore. Maybe a little overstimulated. But I’m fine. I would have used the safeword if I had been unsure about continuing. So don’t look so worried, Clavis.”

Ah.

…okay.

I was flummoxed as to what made her so taciturn all of a sudden.

“You want your feedback, don’t you? Then you’ll get it. But only after you satisfy me.” That severe expression held no room for compromise. 

I loved seeing her so serious. She was breathtaking. How I loved her! 

As my lips began to curl into a pleased smile, she cut in with a demand of her own: “Fuck me, Clavis. Now.”

My smile froze.

Great heavens, she was irresistible like this.

I felt compelled to obey, even though I had been the one issuing commands all day. I attempted to remain smooth and masterful as I lowered my face within inches of hers. 

Feigning nonchalance, I said, “I suppose I could make a compromise, since my lovely fiance is so desperate for me.” 

She rolled her eyes, quirking her mouth into a wry expression. “Well, get on with it. I’m … I am – ugh, Clavis, don’t you … ?“ 

I forstalled her fumbling words by pressing a kiss to those pouting lips, giving her time to gather her words. Would she beg, I wonder? 

At last she mumbled, “I need you. Don’t you … need me, too? Or is this teasing torture all you want?” Those tender eyes slid away from mine, downcast.

Arrows. To the heart. A barrage of steel-tipped bolts lodged in my chest, stealing my breath. 

Oh, my precious. Had I made you doubt my desire for you?

She hadn’t begged or bargained after all. She hadn’t needed to. Not that I ever wanted her to. That hadn’t been my goal.

My goal.

Oh.

In the delicious taunting and torment, I had almost lost sight of why I started all this. 

I wanted to find out her secret kinks, her guilty pleasures.

Sighing an apology, I hurriedly kissed her lips. “No, no, my sweetheart, my dove, my everything. Of course I need you. I’m sorry. The –”

–” then why –” she began.

I immediately rushed in with the explanation she deserved, – “because I wanted to discover what set you aflame. You already know I’m crazy about your thighs. And well, everything about you, truly. And you know all my weaknesses. You know how to drive me wild. I feel at your mercy every time we are in bed. I … I simply had to find at least one of your fetishes, a kink, a secret touch or toy that made you lose yourself to me the way I feel helpless around you.”

There.

I had come clean.

I feared she would laugh, even though I knew my darling would never ridicule me when I was laid vulnerable to her like this.

And yet.

I was scared anyway.

I felt more naked than I actually was. Like my chest was open, heart exposed.

“Ohhhh. Clavis.” Her sympathetic sigh was balm to my nerves. My name on her lips was full of love and acceptance. Not a scrap of judgment or mocking was present.

She began to reach her hands to me, forgetful of their bondage. The clanking metal of the cuffs’ links jangled me out of my self-pity, reminding me to school my features into something less pathetic.

“Let’s get you out of these, hm? I think the sexy experiment is over. It yielded no results.” I attempted to sound like my usual self as I unclasped the leather restraints from the headboard.

“You’re wrong, honey. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.” The sultry smile on her face grew.

I simply blinked at her while I undid the buckles to free her wrists.

Emma continued, “Perhaps the feedback wasn’t what you expected. But I could have told you what you wanted to know without going to all the trouble.” 

Hmmm?? What was this?

She bit her lip slyly before adding, “Not that I didn’t like the, um, experiments. It was a fun and new experience with you.”

I kept silent, but nodded to encourage her to continue. What was she going to divulge?

I moved to the foot of the bed to undo the ropes on one leg and the leather straps on the other as she spoke.

“None of those toys or equipment were something that unlocked a new deviant side of myself. There was no one particular place you touched or action you did that wasn’t more special or spicy than the others. But there was one constant throughout the entire adventure that kept me aroused more than anything else.”

After I tossed the rope and restraints to the floor, I noticed the imprints left behind. Little lines indented her supple skin. My fingers traced them gently, lovingly. Her thighs were like a canvas for the rope patterns. I was relieved to see there were no angry red marks. I kissed the trail of criss-crossing marks, reveling in the softness of her glorious legs. 

She paused, as if waiting for me to give her my full attention. I rose from my worship of the world’s most perfect thighs and asked, “Oh? You’re giving me feedback after all? Lucky me. Do go on,” I purred as my palms glided from her hips to her knees.

“It was how you acted. You were still Clavis. The Clavis I love. But you were also … more. Different. It was the domineering act you put on. The way you commanded me to do or not do something. I loved submitting to your orders. I … I enjoyed putting myself completely in your control. Because I trust you. And because it felt exhilarating to be at the whims of a man who usually is out of control.” 

She giggled, giving me a knowing look. It was the truth. I didn’t interrupt her to say she was wrong. 

Emma went on, “You are chaos incarnate, sweetie. Your political plans are masterful, but your outward attitude is so flippant, so unpredictable, that nobody realizes how dastardly clever you truly are. But today you behaved differently. You were so sure of yourself. Sure of what reactions you wanted to pull out of me. And that was what put me into a frenzy more than anything. It was seeing you execute whatever plan you had in mind, and entrusting myself to your care. Because I love you and I know you would never hurt me.”

My mouth had gone dry and I realized at some point my hands had stopped their trek across her sumptuous legs. 

The full impact of what she said was still hitting me: None of the bondage gear or implements or sensation tricks I used were effective at uncovering a new kink. 

It had been me! And her! It had been the Dom/sub roleplay that had been at the heart of her arousal this whole time. 

I almost laughed out of sheer exhaustion at realizing that we hadn’t needed any of the periphery, not a single whip or blindfold or toy. 

All we needed was the two of us.

“It’s you. You’re my kink.” Her sheepish words echoed my thoughts. “There’s your feedback. Now. Ahem. Clavis, I believe you were FINALLY about to fuck me, right?”

“One hundred percent correct, my lovely lover. But first let’s get this off you. I don’t want anything between us.” I made fast work of the buckles on the front of her corset.

Taking into account how tired and sensitive she was from all my previous ministrations that day, I didn’t over-exert our love-making. That first time, at least. The rest of the weekend was full of intense, laborious exercise in bed. I gave in to every one of her whims and requests.

On our final afternoon in the manor, Emma slid off of me, panting, before she caught her breath enough to speak her mind. It somehow flowed from the conversation we had had on that very first day of the experiment.

“No one gives you enough credit for all the effort and intellect. You keep your brainpower too well hidden, and it frustrates me that people don’t appreciate how smart and resourceful you are. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think I love a fool? How it feels to have everyone look at my husband-to-be like he’s just some weird idiot, instead of the intelligent and caring and amazing man he is inside? Do you? I don’t think you do, sweetie. It’s infuriating. And you never correct them!”

“Heh. And neither will you. Ever. I prefer it that way. And you know why.”

She did. And it set my heart aflame to know that she understood my wiles and reasons, yet still got angry on my behalf. 

Oh, darling. I don’t deserve you. 

Knowing that she adored my hard work and brains was enough to spark a dozen new ideas for the next time we had a weekend away. 

She loved my cunning. And my cunnilingus. I would put both to work next time, along with that domineering side that drove her wild.

I grinned wickedly.

She saw it, and responded with a wicked smile of her own. “Uh-oh, what does THAT look mean? You look positively villainous… I love it.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

AUTHOR’S NOTES: 

😏 I’m curious to see what the readers think their safe-word is? Comment or reblog with your idea! I can’t wait to see what you guess! Hee hee!!! 😘

I don't usually write in first-person PoV. But for some reason when I started this, Clavis INSISTED he be the one to speak. The words must come from his mouth and not from a disinterested observer. Pfft. Okay, pal. Man, he can be pushy. And he's SO GOOD at getting his way!!

Kokoro! Bryn had mentioned you said “It’s Valentine’s Day, I want them to fuck!” 😏🤣 LOLOLOL And here I realized by the time the D/s scenario had wrapped up, Clavis still hadn’t DONE THE DEED. 😳🥹 Ack! I’m sorry! 🙈🙃😅 It was implied that they did, indeed, fuck several times during their weekend away. But I didn’t have time to write it all out. I’m sure the scenes would be far more delicious and steamy in your imagination than I could put them into words. So please visualize to your heart’s content! 😈😉

#my fanfic #my writing #My Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange #ikepri clavis #My Ikemen Valentine #Gift Exchange #Creative Exchange #Content Exchange #Creative Challenge #ikemen prince clavis #clavis lelouch #clavis x emma #clavis x mc #ikepri fanfic #ikemen prince fanfic #clavis lelouch PoV #clavis lelouch fanfic #ohtomatotome #clavis lelouch and emma #his PoV #Clavis says GOOD GIRL at least six times #Soft Dom Clavis #D/s fanfic #Dom/sub fanfic #Ikémen Prince #Ikémen Creative Exchange #Ikémen Prince fanfic #It's You You're My Kink

[ridiculouslly-ridiculous]

Finding Home Within You

Pairing: Leon x MC (Emma)

TW/CW: smut

Thank you to @ikemenlibrary for hosting this event! This gift is for @chirp-a-chirp! I hope you enjoy!

The news came suddenly, and once your beloved Leon broke the news to you, you couldn't help but to be utterly destroyed.

“I’m sorry, but an unexpected meeting about negotiations has come up and I can’t get out of it. And I'm afraid this means we have to postpone our Valentine's plans. I’m so sorry.” Although your heart has been slightly broken, you can’t bring yourself to be upset since his expression shows how much this deeply upsets him too. He’s been so busy as of late, and Valentine’s was your only foreseeable opportunity to get some quality one-on-one time and take a well deserved break from the responsibilities each one of you carry.

“When do you leave?” is the only thing you can bring yourself to ask.

“First thing tomorrow.” he sighs and brings his hands to gently hold yours. He presses gentle kisses to your knuckles – such a tender display of affection makes your heart melt like chocolate left out in the sun. “I promise I'll make it up to you once I come back.”

“As long as I get to spend some alone time with you, I’ll be happy.”

And unfortunately, morning came back around and it was time for him to depart. Your days dragged on despite it being the same 24 hour days when Leon was here. And then Valentine’s Day arrived. When you woke up you couldn’t help but feel a bit depressed considering your fiancé is currently away from you. But work is work, and now that it’s Valentines that means there’s only a few more days to go until he’s finally back. Your morning consists of baking some treats. Then in the afternoon is adding final touches and handing out the treats. Once all the treats are distributed you head back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the mess you had made. As you’re walking you smell something savory, which has overtaken the sweet smell of your treats from earlier. As you step into the kitchen, you notice it’s absolutely spotless and the smell of the delicious dinner leads back to here. Then standing by an immaculate set table stands the love of your life.

“I apologize that it’s not much, but I was a little short on time. Please forgive me.” He grins – the grin that you love so much. You’re so overwhelmed by emotions by his sudden appearance that you run into his arms. Once your body collides with his, his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “I missed you so much, Emma.” He softly murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days.”

“What kind of man would I be if I left the woman I love down on the most romantic holiday?”

“I hope you didn’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’m okay, I promise. Now, how about we get our date started?”

“Yes, please!”

He pulls out a chair for you to sit down, then pushes your seat in, and delicately places a napkin in your lap.

Despite claiming to be short on time, there was such an amazing feast put together. There was a nice juicy steak for each of you, along with plenty of sides to pair with it. He pours each of you a glass of wine, passes one to you, and keeps the other. Once the glass is in your hand and begins a toast, “Here’s to our valentines date and to the many others we will have together.” And the two of you bring your glasses together and the clink resonates throughout the room. Leon being romantic he insists on feeding you. He enjoys watching you delightfully chew each bite and how you savor the flavor. And as the two of you eat he recounts his days that he was away from you. The two of you share some laughs and enjoy your evening together after being apart for so long.

After dinner, the two of you walk together hand-in-hand toward his room, which has become yours as well. Before he even opens the door, he caresses your cheek with one hand and gives you a sweet, lingering kiss.

“I’m so happy to be home.” He says, his breath tickling your lips.

“Welcome home, Leon.” You say with a sweet smile. Leon then quickly slots his lips between yours again, but instead of a sweet kiss like the one just moments before. There’s a sense of urgency as he kisses you, and the feeling of knowing he needs you has you moaning into the kiss. Leon moves his hands to grip around your waist and draw you closer to him. You find yourself reaching for the door, desperately trying to open the door before someone finds the two of you in the middle of your make out session. Leon takes a quick glance, now seeing the door open, he moves his hands down to your legs and hoists you up. He carries you into the bed room and closes the door with his foot and it only takes him a few steps for him to reach the bed

He gently lays the both of you down onto the bed, a soft creak and the rustling of sheets sounding out as the two of you shift to get more comfortable. His hands coming up to rub your breasts through your dress – that alone has you letting out a wanton moan. Even through his kiss you can feel how his lips smirk. It doesn’t take much longer for the two of you to start undressing one another. A shower of fabric raining out as each garment is thrown without care or worry, just the desperate need of needing to feel the warmth of bare skin. Leon’s hands tantalizingly rub up and down your sides, before reaching further up and settling on your breasts and rolling your nipples between his thumb and index. That touch alone already has you softly arching your back off of the mattress — your body begging for more.

“I love when you moan for me. Shows that I’m loving you right.” He whispers into your ear. His sultry voice causing you to become wetter than you already were.

You lift your hips up, grinding yourself against his hardened cock. The action, although more than welcome, took him by surprise as he lets out a soft moan by feeling the warmth and wetness of your cunt.

“More. I need you.” You whimper out as you continue to rub yourself against him.

Leon moves his hands down to your hips to stop the rolling of your hips, and then brings one hand to grab his cock and align it with your entrance.

“You know I can’t deny you.” And he enters you with ease, both of you already moaning at the sensation. He felt so good and he hasn’t even started moving yet. His length and girth are just the right amount to fill you up perfectly, and how the veins that adorn it graze your gummy walls. “You feel… so good,” Leon grunts out. His hands move to yours placing them by your head and holding onto them before he starts thrusting into you. His slow, gentle thrusts are driving you insane, you can feel him holding back.

“It’s okay,” you moan out, “you can go faster.” You assure him and hold tighter onto his hands. You see something in his eyes shift and he begins to pick up his pace. His now animalistic pace is just what both of you needed, both of you smiling, sweating, and moaning messes. You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer to you. And despite his unrelenting pace, his forehead comes down to touch yours and your eyes meet, and sweet words begin to spill out, “I can’t wait to marry you. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” His words leave you gasping and you feel yourself releasing around his cock. He grunts, burying his face in your neck as he cums inside of you.

He reluctantly pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty and his cock cold compared to your warmth. Nothing in the room can be heard besides the sounds of his and your heavy breathing. You feel soft, fluttering kisses on your neck. Even those tiny little kisses have you whimpering, still sensitive from your orgasm.

Once you feel like you’ve caught your breath, you find yourself untangling yourself from Leon, and he looks a little confused why you’re separating yourself from him, but his confusion is soon replaced with a smirk when he sees you positioning yourself over him. His hands immediately find their place on your hips.

“Let me show you how much I missed you.” You say to him.

He sits up to kiss you, “We have so many days to make up for, I hope you’re ready.”

Likes, replies, and reblogs are always welcome and appreciated <3

© ridiculouslly-ridiculous 2024; ᴅᴏ not ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴏʀ repost ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ. All work posted is all original.

#🎼 — kats compositions #ikemen prince #leon dompteur x reader #leon dompteur #ikepri leon #my ikemen valentine gift exchange

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Fate

A surprise gift for @ikemenlibrary because the organiser of 'My Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange' didn't include herself despite all of the hard work needed to put the event together. You really need to reward yourself a little more. My only regret in this is that I don't know Licht.

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character: Comte de Saint Germain

Warnings: mentions of death in euphemism

Masterlist 

Follow the voice. 

That was all the instructions you had received for your assignment. What it meant, you had no clue. How it worked, even less, but you went along with it when the door unlocked and the familiar dark hallways doomed up for you, taking you to wherever you were needed. 

“If we meet again.” 

A voice, one you didn’t know but felt a pang of familiarity with all the same, doomed up from the darkness. “If we meet again,” it echoed, like a desperate prayer, filled with sadness from the speaker that only knew regret and no religion. 

“If we meet again, would you be willing…” 

Heart aching you followed the voice, reaching out for the next door and pushed in, praying that you could help whatever regret and wish you would find behind. 

Amber golden eyes met yours in surprise, tears streaming out of them ruining the handsome visage of a man brought onto his knees. It seemed he had been kneeling indeed, though there was no apparent religion that you could distinguish out of his form. 

“You…” he speaks first and you straighten yourself, taking a deep breath before shutting the door, officially starting your assignment. 

“Regret,” Comte, as the man calls himself, repeats after you. A sardonic smile sets on his lips along with clasped hands that stretch the skin out over his knuckles. “Yes, you can call it that,” he murmurs softly, but you can see that he doesn’t quite believe it. 

It had taken very little convincing to explain your presence and job to him. Surprisingly so, but you supposed that Comte being a vampire and immortal had helped the matter. Something about being beyond human understanding as a shared trait helped in that. You could appreciate the ease in that, however, knowing that everything that would follow after was harder. Tempting fate was, after all, a world altering matter. 

“First we need to figure out what chain started the path we want to change,” you started, finding that explaining alternate universes and paths was surprisingly easy as well to a pureblood vampire. “Usually we do this by working backwards in events, targeting big crosspoints before zooming in, but I can imagine that you rather not re-experience her death,” you mused, a bump in your heart at the thought of this unknown soulmate that Comte had. 

It felt strange to feel envy for someone you didn’t know at all. Comte had been very sparse on the details of his lover and acclaimed soulmate, only revealing that he had been too hesitant in his own feelings and too late to realise the depth of his emotions. Your envy was made even stranger knowing the fate that befell the soulmate. 

“No, let’s not do that,” Comte grimaces, hands still clenched together in a tight prayer. You can see how hard he tries to think of a solution, one that will change the fate of a human, a fragile existence even in alternate universes, without having to trial and error her death. “Do you believe in soulmates?” he asks you suddenly, and you wonder why it is relevant what you think and believe in. 

It is a question you never really thought of. Not truly. And certainly not a question you expect on the first day of your job. You usually spend it trying to understand the assignment at hand, the client and their wishes. But now that you are and as you think back of the prayer you heard in the hallway, unfinished. The question in which you hope the answer will be one that will lead Comte back to happiness, for the weight of sadness in his voice and the weight of his regret laid heavy on your consciousness. 

“Maybe?” you say, not having the heart to say no, not truly believing in ‘no’ either as you think of Comte and the depth of his love that had brought you here. 

“A maybe is a no,” Comte chuckles, sounding so helplessly bitter at that moment before a resolution sets in his mind. 

“I know a certain way to change her fate,” Comte says, his confidence faltering just a second before he steels himself with resolution, eyes hardening but avoiding yours. 

His solution turns out to be a tremendous job. One that you aren’t quite sure will work, for fate worked in strange ways. 

“Are you sure?” you repeat, hand once more on the door and his placed next to yours. “It is no small matter striking out the name of another in the book of fate,” you caution, a little nervous at the idea of altering fate at its very core, “the backlash will be great.” 

Comte remains confident, however, his hand moving over yours on the door as he forces you to push. Those amber gold eyes never meet yours. They haven’t since he resolved himself. 

“That is my burden to carry,” he tells you. 

Comte never told you the name you had to strike from the book of fate, nor did he tell you the name that was tied to it. The simple sounding request and the near impossible assignment left a bad taste in your mouth, your gut telling you to cut the assignment short and leave. To deny this request. 

“If you met her again,” you repeat the question that led you to Comte in the first place, the familiar hallway empty as ever, but quiet this time as the two of you search for the end, “would you be willing…”

“Yes,” Comte answers immediately, cutting off your question as his hand in yours clenched tightly, meaning the affirmative with every sense of his being, “yes, and a thousand times over,” he repeats, his voice at peace, but the sadness lingering forever as you arrive at your next destination. 

“And do you believe in fate?” you ask when opening the door, revealing a room that blinds you before revealing all the names and souls bound together, a red string appearing around your pinky finger that pulls taut.

“Yes.” Is all Comte says, raising the red thread winding around his finger and towards his lips, pressing a first and last kiss to your shared fate before he snaps the thread and the world turns dark. 

Follow the voice

It was all the detail you received walking down the dark hallways, wondering what your assignment was and what your last one had been, a lingering question comes to mind as you sound it out yourself; 

“If we met again, would you be willing,” you sound, hoping for a yes, your legs moving as you remember the snap of fate and the amber gold eyes that had tried to spare you from a fate he thought worse than the snap of the thread. 

“Yes, if we met again I’d be willing to be your soulmate again,” you call out, switching strategies as you beg the darkness for the voice to lead you to Comte again, but it remains quiet as you continue down the hallway that never ends. 

“If we met, would you love me again?” you call out, asking the next question that comes to mind as you press against every door that you find, hoping to find one that will give and allow you in. 

A thousand promises and countless alternate universes and you knew, you’d love the man with amber gold eyes over and over again, with his sad smiles and his bright ones, even as the world crumbled around you and the hallway endless.

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” you call out in the darkness, desperation overtaking you as a prayer swells up and a voice whispers as time restarts along with fate; 

“If we meet again, would you be willing to love me still?” 

#my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp comte #ikevam comte

[tacogawa]

Thank you for organizing yet another amazing gift exchange @ikemenlibrary ❤️

Under The Trees

Ikemen Prince - OC x Leon

For @queengiuliettafirstlady ❤️

#ikepri #ikepri leon #ikepri oc #myart #my ikemen valentine gift exchange