#happy birthday chevalier!

[thewitchofbooks]

🎊Happy birthday Chevalier🎊

[suffrin]

got ill drawing this i really need those glasses. I hauve a migraine now. Anyway i love you mira happy birthday

[violettduchess]

A/N: I know I am late but this is a very belated birthday present for a very special person: @lorei-writes 💜 I'm sorry this took so long but I hope you know what a wonderful friend you are and how grateful I am to have you in my life!

Chevalier x Reader, Only One Bed (the trope that won my poll!)

tw: injury

WC: ~2.5k

The trees whip past you, black blurs with long, spidery branches like fingers that reach for you, the wind carrying their whispers of how much they yearn to touch you, to pluck you from the back of the white horse you’re currently astride, tear you away from the man whose waist your arms are so tightly wrapped around. 

Chevalier says nothing as he guides his horse expertly through the darkening forest, the evening light fading with each thundering heartbeat, each turn of the ground under the horse’s hooves. You hear the distant sound of yelling, of the soldiers who are pursuing you and squeeze your eyes closed, pressing your cheek harder against the softness of his white cloak. You don’t know how much time passes. Your arms begin to tremble with the effort of holding on. Your legs feel as if they are numb as they struggle to keep you atop the churning muscles of the animal beneath you. It’s only when you hear him say your name that you slowly come back to yourself, eyelids fluttering open as you feel his body slowly twisting away from you. 

You’ve stopped.

Darkness has almost completely taken over. Only the palest shafts of dusk filter through the gaps in the trees. Strong hands reach up, pulling you down from the exhausted horse. Despite the heavy pace of the ride, Chevalier’s grip feels solid, a strength you lean into, wishing it would somehow seep from him into you and grant your shaking limbs calm, your burning lungs cool steadiness.

He waits a moment, still as the tree trunks, but you can see the way his eyes roam the gloom, searching. 

A decision is reached.

“Can you stand?” His voice is low, quiet, hushed with alertness.

“Yes,” you manage, surprised at how raw your own throat is, how the words have to be forced out like sandpaper against rough wood.

He releases you and your back curls like a question mark, your hands sliding down to your knees where you hold yourself, focusing on breathing. Your shoulder burns, a lick of fire that feels oddly wet when you reach up to touch it. 

You hear him murmuring to his horse, patting the loyal animal’s neck, speaking in a tone that is both gentle and soothing. Who would have thought the brutal beast capable of such softness? And then, having removed his bedroll and saddlebags from the animal, he reaches back and with a crack across the steed’s rear, sends it rushing away into the yawning darkness with a soft whinny.

What….? The horse is your only way back….how…. why…..

He may not be able to see your face clearly but somehow he can still read your thoughts. “It is familiar with these woods and will find its way back to the palace. We cannot risk having it close by.” 

Suddenly his hand is grabbing yours and he’s moving, pulling you along with him over the uneven forest floor. “Come.”

You trust him to lead you, even if you cannot make out a path. He pushes his way through branches and brambles and bushes and you very quickly lose hope of ever figuring out what direction you are moving in. Just when your legs begin to cry for mercy, he pushes aside several low hanging branches to reveal the destination he has been heading for: The mouth of a small cave underneath an overhang of uneven rocks and scraggy bushes. It is here he takes you, into the maw of darkness.

You’re hit immediately with the strong, dank scent of rock and earth. Chevalier has to duck, the cave not high enough to accommodate his full height. How does he know where he is going? It’s nearly pitch black. You don’t have the energy to voice your concerns or questions. The aftermath of fear and flight has left you compliant, wordlessly trusting this man to lead you somewhere safe.

The mouth of the cave is almost out of sight when he stops, dropping to his knees in the darkness. You hear him lift the flap of the leather saddle bag, rummaging around until he finds what he is looking for. There’s a quiet snapping sound and suddenly the small area is illuminated with soft blue light, a sight so unexpected and beautiful that you gasp.

You’re at the back of the cave, surrounded on all sides by smooth stone. Chevalier is holding what looks like a vial of some kind, filled with glowing blue liquid. You’re so enchanted that you momentarily forget the terror of just an hour or so earlier, of the masked soldiers who ambushed you while on a sunset ride with the prince, the hiss of the arrows they fired at you, the cry of your horse as it stumbled to the ground and the way Chevalier swept you up in one fluid movement, anchoring you behind him even as he carried you away from the violent chaos, deep into the safety of the dark forest.

“What is this?” You touch the glowing tube even as Chevalier pulls out another, bending it until it emits a small cracking sound and more blue light, pale as the underside of the ocean, fills the cave.

“My brother may be a fool but he has his moments.” He sets the glowing vial down, turning to reach for the bedroll.

Clavis. Of course. He’s always working in his room, tinkering, inventing. That he was the one to come up with such a clever invention doesn’t surprise you. As Chevalier lays out the bedroll, you continue to look at the glowing tube. The gentle blue light almost feels like it’s wrapping itself around you, gentle waves guiding your lungs into a steady rhythm, your heart lowering its guard as you feel a sense of cautious safety begin to settle over you. 

“Come here.” You look up to see Chevalier pointing to the bedroll. He’s kneeling beside it, pulling off his dark gloves one finger at a time, a small brown jar on the ground beside him. Before you can ask, annoyance flickers across his face. “You’re injured. This will help keep the wound from becoming infected.”

Injured? Where are you–

“Your shoulder. Now come here.” His words are crisp, edged with impatience. 

You glance down, pushing aside your cloak and are stunned by the darkness that stains the sleeve of your white blouse. 

When did that happen? In the blur of escape you didn’t even notice…..

Carefully you settle yourself in front of Chevalier. In the cool light, he leans close to you, shifting the torn fabric to try and examine the injury. He’s so close you notice just how long his lashes are, how the wild ride through the dusky woods tangled his pale hair. A slender red line mars the perfection of his face, a scratch that cuts a slanted line right beneath his cheekbone.

“It’s no good. I need more access.” He leans back as his eyes, so impossibly blue in the chemical light, flick up to yours. It takes a deep breath to keep you from free falling into those oceanic depths. Forcing a quick nod, you cast modesty aside, grateful for motion as it will keep you busy. Your cloak is tossed aside. One by one, you undo the buttons of your blouse until you can slide the material off your shoulder completely. The cool air of the cave brushes over your newly exposed skin and you shiver. 

“It’s not deep. You should heal without issue.” He uncovers the jar and reaches inside with one finger, scooping up a generous portion of the milky salve. With a practiced hand, he begins applying it over the torn skin of your shoulder. Another shiver runs through you, something bright and restless that has nothing to do with the cold.

Hands that have rained down death and destruction are shockingly gentle as he touches you, spreading the salve evenly across your injury. You watch the passage of his finger across your skin, unable to look away even if you wanted to. Have you ever noticed how beautiful his hands actually are? He glances up and finds you staring at him. Whatever he sees in your eyes seems to unsettle him. He jerks his upper body back, hastily pulling his hand away and reaches back into the saddle bag for a strip of cloth which he ties around your upper arm. His fingers now expertly avoid touching your skin. 

“That should suffice for the night.” He reaches for the jar, about to close it again.

“Wait!” You pull it from his grasp as surprise flashes across his face. Clearing your throat, you gesture with the small clay jar in your hand towards him. “You have a scratch yourself.”

His shoulder lifts in a gesture of indifference. “It’s nothing.”

You shift your body, turning to face him directly. Your blouse is still partially undone and he finds himself noticing the wash of pale blue light across the exposed skin of your shoulder, the way it highlights the line of your collarbone and the intimate divulgence of the skin beneath it. 

“Please, let me.” Your voice carries a note of something tremulous in it, pulling his gaze back to your face, the parting of your lips, the soft supplication in your eyes. He finds himself acquiescing, his powerful upper body leaning ever so slightly towards you. 

“If you must.”

The salve is cool to the touch and you apply a much smaller amount to the tip of your index finger, leaning towards him. Your other hand moves automatically, reaching up to catch his chin in order to hold him steady. He blinks, but otherwise does not move. You press your finger to the thin scratch on his face and slowly, carefully follow the red line. You’ve never been this close to him before. He carries the scent of roses and sweat, even after your hard ride. Your finger comes to the end of the scratch and it is with a surprising reluctance you let your hand drop from his face.

His chest rises with one breath, two. And then he tears his gaze away from the mesmerism of your face, leaning back to close the jar and return it carefully the saddle bag. He glances towards the cave’s entrance, shaking off the moment that still has your heart clenching with emotion.

“We cannot risk leaving now. We’ll stay the night and make our way back by the light of day tomorrow.” He gestures towards the bedroll. “It’s cold. Get in.”

“And what about you?” You don’t even realize you’ve crossed your arms, frowning. 

He shakes his head once. “You’ll freeze before I do.”

“We can share it.” The words are out of your mouth without thinking. And they continue. “It’ll be snug but we can both fit. You need warmth just as much as I do. And you can’t protect me if you’re freezing to death.”

You’ve surprised him. He draws in a breath and then exhales. With every passing minute, as darkness becomes thicker outside the distant mouth of the cave, the temperature is indeed dropping. 

Wordlessly, he leans forward, pulling off his dark, mud-splattered boots. The sight is somehow so intimate, so personal you find yourself watching, both fascinated and flustered. He removes his cape, folding it into a makeshift pillow and then pulls back the corner of the bedroll. It’s made of thick brown leather and lined with the softest looking white fur you’ve ever seen. He slides his long body inside and then jerks his head.

“Come then.”

You kick off your own riding boots close to where your cloak is lying, abandoned on the hard stone floor, and then with the roaring sound of your own heartbeat in your ears, you wiggle your way down into the bedroll beside him.

And immediately you realize you were wrong.

While the bedroll is large, it is not really made for two people. The only way you can remain covered by the top part is to press yourself as close to Chevalier as possible. He grunts as you hook your leg over him, nudging your hip against his. Your arm automatically reaches across his middle as you settle your head on his shoulder. 

Now the bedroll flap closes, enveloping the both of you.

And Chevalier has not moved. He’s barely even breathing. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your face burning as you begin to slowly scoot away. This was too much, too fast. You literally just touched his cheek for the first time ever and now you’re laying across him as if he's a pillow. “Maybe I…I can wrap the cloaks around me and–”

Your words are cut off as he pulls you back to him, his arm holding your body firmly against his. It’s a rough gesture, a jerky movement so unlike his usual feline gracefulness. 

“You’ll stay here.” His voice is low, a soft growling sound that you feel as much as hear with your ear pressed against his chest, the vibration of it slowly winding its way through you. Heat blossoms within your stomach and your veins pulse with the sudden awareness of just how it feels to be held by Chevalier Michel, how every hard plane of his body fits perfectly against your own softness.

You blink as if you have been shocked awake, as if someone has ripped the curtains away from a window full of glaring sunlight. 

Have you always felt this….desire? Has it been hiding itself within the shadows of your heart only to be dramatically exposed by your closeness to him?

Chevalier shifts ever so slightly, pulling you even closer as he tilts his chin down to look at you. Your own face lifts to meet his gaze. Clavis’s soft blue light illuminates the planes of his face, the pale white of his hair. 

He is so breathtakingly beautiful. 

For the second time tonight, you reach up and touch his face with your hand, this time cupping the strong line of his jaw. His lips part as if to speak but nothing comes. Ignoring the spark of pain in your shoulder, you stretch yourself upwards and press a kiss, soft as silk, warm as dawn, to his injured cheek. Beneath you, his chest stills with a breath held.

“Thank you, Chevalier.”

And you sink back down, your eyes closing as you allow yourself the peace of falling asleep, cocooned in the safety of his arms, welcoming the strange, new tide of yearning for him that has astoundingly, readily rolled into your heart and mind.

As for Chevalier himself? 

He holds you through the night, each passing minute you are in his embrace more and more startling because despite the enemies at the gate, despite the cold of the cavern, despite all that has transpired, it has him wishing that dawn will never come and take you from his side.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @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 @ozalysss @starlitmanor-network

[randonauticrap]

Love

Pairing ~ Chevalier Michel x F!Reader (Chevalier POV)

Word Count ~ 534

Author's Note ~ Happy birthday to my dear friend @aquagirl1978 !

Love. For someone like me, it was a pointless emotion; something royals should not - could not - possess or indulge in. Love toppled kingdoms and ripped apart the very fabric of what a monarchy existed to do: keep its country safe and prosperous. Difficult decisions had to be made in order to achieve this ideal, and love was far too flimsy a notion to entertain in the face of edicts resulting in death. So why, then, was she so important to me? Why did it matter where she was at any given hour of the day? Why did it matter what books she read, or how often she took glances at my foolish brother? Why did it matter that she came to see me in my private library? Why did it matter when she stood by my decisions? They were obviously the best decisions in the room, of course anyone with half a mind inclined to reason would listen. But for some reason, I felt a puff of air in my chest when she agreed without hesitation. Perhaps it is because she would never do so out of fear or subjugation. When she felt differently, she would fight me on it, and despite myself, I would smile when she did. 

Love. It was something I didn’t believe in. I didn’t believe in it, nor did I understand it. It was a mystery veiled within the yellowed pages of my dearest novels, flipped through once, twice, thrice before I would set it down in frustration, only to pick it back up again within the hour. It was something that held no purpose for me, no semblance of necessity to validate its existence. And yet, it did exist. My older brother was proof. The endless recounted tales of ardor in the scrolls that littered my library were proof. This vexing woman that captivated my every minute morsel of attention was proof; far more proof than I had ever bargained for, and something I didn’t expect. It appeared right before my eyes in the tender visage of a woman that by all rights I should disregard without a second glance. So why didn’t I? Why didn’t I leave her behind? 

Love. It was something I had no choice but to succumb to. Before she could even prove its value, it had me in its clutches; having stalked me from the shadows more expertly than any trained assassin, taking its chance to pounce upon me and claim me for its own in the form of tender smiles, light touches, and her presence in every room. Where before there was only ice, only solitude, only duty, she supplemented warmth, companionship, and meaning. My heart began to beat for the first time since I very first opened my eyes, and it beat solely for her. My vocabulary for love was wide, but the language itself had evaded me for so long that my proclamations were often lost in translation. But she understood me anyway. She remained by my side despite any justification she could give for abandoning me, a mere beast in the guise of a lover.

Love. It was you. And because it was you, it is now also me.

~

[yourpoetrygodbaby]

Its mirabelles birthday!!!!

[aquagirl1978]

Fanfiction

Be Still, My Queen (NSFW)

Tempting the Beast (NSFW)

Making the Morning Worthwhile (NSFW)

Marking You as Mine (NSFW)

Adorably Awkward

Want A Bite?

A Hundred Thousand Roses (NSFW)

My Queen

A Crown for Your King (NSFW)

The Tiger Cares

The Glasses Stay On (NSFW)

Pas de Deux

The King's Command

Just a Dream

Just Another Day

Crash Into Me (NSFW)

A Rare Treat

Torment (NSFW)

Stay

Season of Change

The Queen's Command

What a Difference a Year Makes

Kiss From a Rose

She is Mine

Twist of Fate

Read to Me

Happily Ever After

The Morning After (NSFW)

More Than Words

Take My Breath Away (NSFW)

My Yellow Rose

It Was You

No Regrets

Finally (NSFW)

Chasing Fireflies

In Your Eyes

His Human Heart

Chats

A Trip to Wonderland (IkeRev x IkePri)

The One Where Belle Invites the Suitors to a Picnic (Licht, Gilbert, Sariel, Clavis, Chevalier, Jin)

Headcanons

What kind of undies do the princes wear? (Act 1 Suitors)

Women's Lingerie - Do they wear it and what would they wear? (ALL)

Suitors react when MC gifts them a plushie of their crest animal - Part 1 (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke)

Suitors React to a Sick MC - Part 1 (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke, Sariel)

Jealous Princes - Part 1 (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke, Rio)

Suitors Reaction to Finding a Toy in Your Room (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke, Rio, Gilbert)

Children's Books (Chevalier, Clavis)

Dream Wedding (Chevalier, Gilbert)

Grocery Shopping (Chevalier, Gilbert)

MC Reacts to Fight with Suitor (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke)

Kisses (Gilbert, Keith, Silvio)

Suitors as Vampires Biting MC for the First Time (Chevalier, Gilbert, Keith, Silvio)

Suitors React to Finding Out Belle is Pregnant (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Jin, LIcht, Sariel)

Chevalier Michel with a Lovey Dovey MC

Taking Suitor's Gloves Off (Gilbert, Rio, Chevalier)

How the Suitors React to an Unexperienced Belle (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Jin)

Suitors Reactions to an MC Who Gets Lost Easily (Yves, Nokto, Chevalier, Clavis)

Suitors Reactions to Attending a Baseball Game (Chevalier's Faction)

Suitors React to an MC with an Eating Disorder/Body Dysmorphia (Leon, Chevalier, Clavis)

[lichtluv]

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐰𝐡𝐲'𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, ❝𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

_ 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙫𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙡 𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙗𝙤𝙖𝙧𝙙.

[solomons-poison]

I finally got to bond level 19 with Chev and unlocked his final side story, and it's a shame it's bond-locked cause I think this might help others see his true humanity when doing his route.

At this point in the story, Belle has just witnessed Chevalier on the battlefield and seen his fighting prowess up close. Plus, thanks to his awful, cut-and-dry way with words, when he says that he doesn't mourn his lost soldiers, of course Belle sees him as a beast again, after all the time spent getting closer to him and telling him the opposite: that he's still a person despite his beast-like tendencies. She even reacts negatively when he reaches out to touch her, snapping at him with a "no!".

If he really was just a beast, that no shouldn't have fazed him. But here we see, it really shook him, and just as he was getting accustomed to and accepting being seen as a person for maybe the first time in his life, thats suddenly taken away through a huge miscommunication. He almost seems betrayed, really, and it's very interesting see just how much this affected him when he's so used to being called a beast by literally everyone else.

Anyway, more Chev simping, what can I say 🤷‍♀️

[ikeprinces-stuff]

It's your favourite's cursed memes maker's Birthday

😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎

I LOVE YOU LEON DOMPTEUR SO MUCH AAAAAAA

I've been waiting to receive these since the beginning of 2023 😭😭😭❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[empressyu123]

My Bllk AU #21

Yuusaku, Isagi, Bachira, Aryu and the PXG gang: Happy birthday Tokimitsu!

*Tokimitsu and Chouji who got back from a small trip because Chouji needed to distract Tokimitsu, both are now come face to face with his birthday gift*

Chouji: wha- *sigh* tell me that’s not a dog!

the gang excepted Loki and Isagi: it’s not a dog.

Isagi: don’t worry Aniki it’s an emotional support puppy. 😅

Loki: we couldn’t stop it even if we tried.

Charles: well, what do you think Tokimitsu?

Tokimitsu: *whispers in tears* I-its perfect!

[jeweledflowers]

'𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.'

[vvvavaaa]

Happy birthday King Highness! I mean Chev. Uh I mean Chanic...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHEVALIER!

[maxriderg]

Alright people, PLACES EVERYONE!!!! Complete with this.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I got this and well, have a Happy 42nd Birthday to the one and only, Chiwa "ChiwaChiwa" Saitou, I guess and well, that's it. That's all, folks.

[violettduchess]

Ahh not sure if I'm allowed to request something else, especially so soon (thank you so much for that amazing Gilbert fic btw). But if it isn't too much trouble, may I request prompt 14 from the gesture prompts ("Pressing tiny kisses against your lover’s shoulder while they’re bent over a desk, trying to focus even though your touch is distracting them.") + Chevalier please? Thank you and take care and don't overwork yourself <3 <3 <3

A/N: Happy Belated Birthday, Chevalier 🎈

This is a really old request (sorry @atelieredux that it took me forever and a day to do it 🙈 )

Chevalier x Reader, fluff

Word Count: 772

Chevalier is bent over his desk, working by pale, yellow lamp light. Outside the sky is painted with swathes of stars and one big, bright full moon, doing its best to compete with all the starshine. He, of course, has no time to admire the view. He is busy, always busy, a mind that works ten steps ahead of everyone else’s and never seems to tire.

Your approach is quiet, footsteps muted by the soft, plush carpet. But of course, he knows you are there. He heard you the moment you entered the room. He could smell the soft scent of your bath soap and hear the whisper of your floor-length nightgown. He even knows by the sound which one it is, a confection of white silk and pale blue lace, a remembrance from the last time you traveled to Benitoite. 

You finally stop behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders. He is stripped down to the soft white and gold tunic he wears to sleep and you can feel the way his muscles respond to your touch under the fabric, tightening slightly as if surprised. He does not stop writing, his white feathered quill making neat, copious notes in the margins of the document in front of him. Leaning forward, you glance at what he is doing.

“Why are you bothering with this? Clavis said he finished drafting this yesterday.” It was a letter to the merchant’s guild, something that fell within his brother’s realm of responsibility.

The quill continues to move, light scratching noises flying from the sharpened tip.

“Clavis’s writing requires a second, third and often fourth revision before it is ready for approval.” 

You watch him work another moment, eyes wandering over the orderly, slanted handwriting. And then your lips curve into a slow, almost mischievous smile.

You want his attention.

You have an idea.

You slide your hands across the tops of his shoulders and then down, the corded muscles of his upper arms, tangible through the soft material of his shirt. Bending, you place a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

The quill pauses its tireless writing. “You have eyes. You see I am working.” It resumes its scratching.

“My eyes are closed, my king.” Your voice is the soft, cloying whisper of satin as it slithers to the ground. You drop another kiss onto his right shoulder, this time a few centimeters more to the left. Closer to his neck.

The quill stops again. “Perhaps you should open them, wife.” His words are chiding but you feel the way his body is responding, as if your kisses have started a humming in his muscles, an involuntary purring in his veins. You smile against his shoulder, warmth coiling its way around your heart, meeting the butterfly-wings of excitement you still get whenever you are close to him.

“I’m quite content.” You press another kiss further to the left. The quill is still poised above the parchment, but unmoving. His beautiful, sculpted hand reminds you of marble, strength and elegance in perfect balance. Anyone else, and you would think they are fully immune to your touch. But he is not anyone. He is Chevalier Michel and you have just gotten him to stop writing. 

His resolve is precariously close to the edge. Time for the necessary push.

Your fingers curl into the muscles of his arm and your head turns as you lean even closer, your lower body pressed into the hard wood of his chair as you place a kiss against the exposed skin of his neck. You linger invitingly, your lips traveling the line of his heartbeat, the one whose pace is quickening by virtue of your distraction.

The quill flutters from his fingers to the desk, tiny droplets of ink scattering in its wake.

Edge, meet Chevalier.

He moves with the fluidity of a large feline. One moment you're kissing his neck, the next your feet leave the carpet and the room tilts as you are scooped up into strong arms with such speed that you gasp, half in surprise and half in delight, as he strides towards the bed.

“You have distracted the king from his work, simpleton. That cannot go unpunished.” You hear the heat in his words, see the smile that pulls on his tempting lips.

Unceremoniously you are tossed onto the bed. You scramble to push yourself up on your elbows, watching him with bright eyes and cantering heart as he reaches down, pulling his tunic over his head in a single, graceful movement. And then his long, lean body is covering yours and your hands are winding through the moonlight of his hair.

Triumph flows through you, riding growing waves of want. 

If this is punishment, may you always be guilty.

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

[randonauticrap]

Happy Birthday, you beautiful man. 😍🩵

[twinleafsystem]

i love you mirabelle chevalier!!!!! happy birthday!!!!!!!!