Ikepri Keith - Tumblr Posts
In a meeting
Gilbert:"My deer friend Keith"
Keith:"....."
Silvio:"I'm not a fawn of his either"
Keith:"...Please stop"
Clavis's echo from Rhodolite:"Oh deer ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)"
Gilbert:"Hey Keith, have you ever wondered what kind of dinosaur Silvio is?"
Keith:"Please don't-"
Gilbert:"-A Tyrantnosaurus, ahaha!"
Silvio:"I only hear compliments and stay Gucci"
Keith:"Do you....do you think different paints have different tastes?"
Gilbert: flashback to 10 years ago
Gilbert: nods
Gilbert:"They do"
Silvio:"....Why the fuck did you say that with such certainty?"
So I am back and saw that Keip went shopping for a new uniform?? 👀👀
Violet, that was so beautiful and poetic!! In Silvio's, you didn't only describe a kiss, but a whole tales and legends of the darkness that lurks in the depths of Benitoite. Silvio hesitation was so accurate and him not knowing what to do first thing when he is woken up feels so real!
Keith's was so sweet! His lover anticipating his return for so long (or that was how she saw it), to the point of hoping (it sounds like an adorable rabbit🥺) towards the entrance of the castle! Their need for each other just makes it saccharine sweet!
Gilbert's is very precious, yet bittersweet🥺 The feelings of his lover much have been on his mind and him making something for her, to remember her hometown, to make sure she doesn't regret it even? Is splendid 🥺! Your writing puts a charm to the imagination, the images are so clear and vivid (even in the dull Obsidian). The candied kiss shared between the two is definitely enchanting! Thank you very much for writing this! I'm looking forward to your works🥺💖
please may i ask for 3 different types of kisses with the 3 new princes
A/N: This is an older request. Sorry anon that it took so long! Thank you for your patience 💜
all the princes are with a f!reader
Word Count: 1618
These are long so the writing is posted below 💋
Silvio: Comforting Kiss
A dream of drowning in rushing black water has you waking with a strangled gasp. You swallow lungfuls of air too quickly, your heart racing like a swimmer stretching for the choppy surface. Your muscles ache and your forehead is damp, not with ocean water, but sweat. A shudder shakes you further and you whimper, the sound soft and sad.
He sits up slowly, pushing his seafoam hair out of his face, your gasping breaths having cut through his sleep like a burning blade. In the dim light of the bedroom, he can see the way your knees are hugged up against your chest, the tremble in your body as you struggle to regain control, to shake the last clinging drops of the horrific dream off. His hand rises and hovers just a moment above your back, split-second uncertainty paralyzing it. Then, slowly, he lowers it, pushing through the haze of leftover sleep and hesitation, and begins rubbing the space between your shoulders. The small, comforting circles his palm makes are gentle for a man often associated with brusqueness. He waits until he feels your breath entering and exiting steadily, then asks you what happened.
He is quiet, his hand now still as he listens to you recount your nightmare. He may be impatient but not with you. And he understands the fear you felt because Silvio is a man of Benitoite. He respects the sea. He knows its power. It is woven through the fabric of every folk song, every cautioning fairy tale.
Your words run out and you sigh heavily as you turn your face away from him, now embarrassed at the visceral reaction you had to something born of your own mind. A frown crosses his face and his other hand is on your chin, turning you back to him, his body knowing what to do even if his mind is a few steps behind.
He leans down, gathering you to him and kisses you gently, a kiss that grounds you, reminds you that you are safe with him, in your own bed, in the solid castle of his arms. He may not be good with words, your Silvio, but in his kiss you can feel them. I love you. I am here for you. I always will be.
Keith: Heated Kiss
He has been away for days on diplomatic business. And even though you weren’t moping around, wilting across seating furniture like some lovestruck lady in a bad romance novel, you did miss him fiercely. So much so that when you heard the servants calling that the Prince was home, you let the heavy, beaded gown you were trying on fall to the carpet with a breathy whoosh.
In your rush out the door, you grab your dressing robe which is haphazardly tied over your shift as you fly down the hallway, wings on your stockinged feet, heart buzzing with excitement. Several servants leap out of the way, then smile at the genuine but hurried apology you toss over your shoulder. You hop around a corner and then reach the white wooden banister from which you can see the large palace foyer.
Keith is standing there, speaking with his butler, still in the stately white and gold of his travel cloak. Your heart stumbles onwards, thumping against your breastbone, willing you to move. He glances up, as if sensing you there, and he smiles, his face lighting up with joy.
You grab the hem of your robe and continue your flight down the wide stairs, rushing ever faster as he moves towards you and you leap from the bottom step straight into his arms. The butler discreetly steps to the side, motioning for the others to leave you. You barely notice the servants dispersing like dust as you hug him with all your strength, your face buried in the side of his neck. He smells like sunshine and travel and the faint scent of the tea he loves so much, black flavored with oil of bergamot.
He sets you down, your feet dropping slowly to the cold tiled floor. But before he can straighten up, you throw your arms around his neck again, holding him in place and surge up to kiss him.
He hesitates. You are in the foyer of the palace after all and there are curious eyes everywhere. But you are insistent, whispering between kisses how much you missed him, how often you dreamt of his return, of feeling him in your arms again, how much you need him right now. And while he is a gentleman, Keith is also simply a man. And the woman he loves and has missed desperately and desires more than anything has her mouth pressed to his while she whispers sweet, ardent nothings to him. Your voice is low, only for his ears, and the words you are brushing against his lips are sinking in, stoking a fire that began smoldering the moment he saw you at the top of the stairs.
The gentleman concedes.
Without hesitation, he lifts you into the cradle of his arms and walks with purposeful steps down a hallway to the right. Your body feels warm, feverish with anticipation as he kicks open the door to one of the downstairs guest chambers, the closest possible bed.
Any curious gaze following you both sees the way he lowers you the moment he crosses the threshold, his white-gloved hands immediately pulling on the ties of your robe as his own cloak falls to the carpet. Curious ears hear the low, almost impatient growl that escapes the usually gentle prince as he captures your mouth in a heated, hungry kiss. And then every intriguing bit of it is blocked by the heavy slam of the guest chamber door, courtesy of the prince’s booted kick.
Gilbert: Romantic Kiss
You will always love the feel of Gilbert’s leather gloves. They are soft, supple and black enough that they seem to drink light in by the mouthful. Right now that dark, soft leather is gripping your hand tightly as he leads you down a narrow dirt path that runs along the back of the residence you are staying in. Puffs of dust are brought to life by your footsteps, dirtying the hem of your skirt and dulling the shine of his boots. This is a path not used often.
He’s leading you to the small greenhouse on his property, a small, derelict glass building in desperate need of repair. When you had first arrived and asked him about restoring it, he had shrugged, one shoulder lifting in a gesture that seemed to say “perhaps”. And then other matters had risen, the drums of war thundering in the distance, overshadowing the tiny, neglected greenhouse and it was never mentioned again. You had assumed he had simply decided it was not important.
He stops walking, turning to face you, his eye bright with excitement. “Allow me.” He reaches up and that soft leather now covers your eyes, shutting out the world. One strong hand on your lower back guides you forward, slower now. He warns you to tread carefully.
The first thing that hits you is the scent. It smells the way you imagine the color green would: like petrichor, like dirt, like something faintly floral and sweet. He walks you a few more steps and then removes his hand. You’re greeted by rows of young potted plants, hanging ivy as far as the eye can see, and a greenhouse without panels of broken glass, jagged and unwelcoming. It is a small green paradise within the dusty land that is Obsidian. You had mentioned once, shortly after leaving your home country to be with him, how you missed the gardens of Rhodolite. He had simply smiled and said nothing in response. You thought he did not want to hear about the things you had given up to be here. And so you never mentioned them again.
You’re taking it all in….And then you notice it. On the metal table in front of you, a black pot with a small, thorny shrub covered in miniature red roses, tiny replicas of the ones you had loved in the palace gardens. You turn to him, lips parted in surprise. “You hate roses,” you say, your voice soft and questioning.
“You don’t,” he answers. Those words settle into the center of your heart, warmth blossoming from them. He understood the Heimweh, the homesickness you felt, and that it could live alongside the love you had for him, neither one overshadowing the other.
You can’t help the way your eyes fill with tears. Your gaze drops as you try to stop them but then you feel the cool touch of his bare hand on your cheek. He’s removed his gloves to touch you, laying them on the table as he steps closer. His expression is full of tenderness and your last thought as he closes the distance between you is how his eye is your favorite shade of red.
His hands cradle your face and his lips find yours. His kiss is soft, cool as a misty morning before the world wakes, when shadows and the last vestiges of moonlight still reign. His mouth moves over yours, speaking without words of love and devotion. Of understanding and acceptance. You sigh into his kiss and he drinks it in, sweeter than mana.
“Thank you,” you whisper, your lips still touching his. You feel his smile and it sends another wave of warmth through you.
His head tilts to one side, his lips never losing contact with yours. “Bitteschön, meine Liebe,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours with every word. “Bitteschön.”
▪
Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @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
True Alliance
Fandom: Ikemen Prince
Pairing: Licht x F!Reader x Keith
Prompt: Enchanted Evenings: Day 13 - Foodplay
CW: Food play, nippleplay, fingering, facefucking, multiple orgasms, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie
WC: 2050+
AN Notes: So I got into a conversation with a whole bunch of discord friends and this idea got planted in my head… I think its safe to say I enjoyed it.
Tagging: @thewitchofbooks , @queen-dahlia , @canaria-blackwell , @kissmetwicekissmedeadly , @aquagirl1978 , @themysticalbeing , @devildomwritersposts , @luvrsn , @namine-somebodies-nobody , @atelieredux , @violettduchess , @sarahann-1984 , @kpop-and-otome , @citizensofcradle , @curious-skybunny , @littlewitty , @lordsisterxotome , @ariamichel - If your name is crossed out I was unable to tag you. If you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know or fill out this form here.
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Pov: u just interrupted them..!
can you describe your favorite body parts of Chevalier, Clavis, Gilbert and Keith
A/N: Here you are, anon. This was an interesting one to think about.
Word Count: 878
Chevalier: Hands
His hands are beautiful. A perfect balance of elegance and power. Hands that as easily grip the pommel of a sword as a black-feathered quill, and both with the same fierce intensity. His fingers are long and shapely, their form belying the strength and agility they possess. Those fingers touch the delicate pages of ancient tomes as well as modern treatises, meticulously careful, reverent even in. They smooth down the edges of rich parchment as he writes in his neat, slanted lettering, not a drop of ink wasted. Not a word too much or too little. They are the second most important tool in Chevalier’s arsenal behind the majesty of his mind.
You love those hands because you know another side to them. The side that isn’t perfect or controlled. You know fingers that can be clumsy in their show of affection. Hands that hesitate before touching, uncertainty wrapped around his fingers like rings. But you love them because they are genuine and real. And once they touch your body, they are hands that are unafraid to seek out what makes you tremble. What makes you fall apart in his arms. What makes you shake with his name on your lips.
Clavis: Eyes
His eyes are pools of gold whose shimmer and shine hide the true depth of his soul. You’ve seen them sparkle like gold dust when he is planning something, a window into the sunshine of his mind. He burns bright when he is truly delighted, when he has come up with a plan he is proud of. That golden gleam has sent many in the palace running, at most afraid, at least uncomfortable. That shine can’t mean anything good, they think. But you would rather see the shine of mischief over the dull, burnished gold of pain that can flash in them when he clashes with his brother, that figure that looms larger than a deity in his life. Chevalier can snuff out the light in Clavis’s eyes with a look, or light the fires of determination with a word, a fire that burns on the edge of control.
But for you, and only for you, those golden eyes grow soft, tenderness interwoven with vulnerability. With a touch, you can bring back their light, the bright and beautiful Aurelian gaze that looks at you with grace and gratitude, love and disbelief. Yes, Clavis, you are worthy of love and you want nothing more than for him to see all that he offers is reflected back at him in your own gaze.
And when you want to show him, to prove to him bodily how much he means to you, then those whiskey-colored eyes ignite with a different sort of fire and burn bright with yearning.
Keith: Shoulders
Keith’s shoulders are wide and strong. A sanctuary where you can lay your weary head and forget the day’s burdens. A place of comfort, of protection. They shield you from the wicked, from the things in this world that snarl and claw and hiss. They are your fortress. Curled up against him, they shield you like angels’ wings, a barrier to everything that could hurt. When you stand behind him, they are a wall. When you are wrapped in his arms, they are a shelter. And when they are bare, you skim the palms of your hands across them, enamored of their breadth, the sublime curve of muscle and sinew. Your fingers find every small dip, every indentation. And sometimes they bite, nails sinking into those muscles, marking him with the evidence of your desire for him.
Yes, those shoulders are safety and security. Until they turn cold. Until the line of them is rigid and unyielding with tension. Until they go from shelter to barricade, keeping you away, holding you at a distance from those too-clever, malevolent golden eyes, the ones that now look at you like you are prey instead of partner. The power in them now does not inspire admiration, but apprehension. Uneasiness. Fear.
Gilbert: Mouth
That mouth. That beautiful, dangerous, talented mouth. The one whose smile is a thousand shades of silver. The one that can be sickle-sharp and glacier-smooth at the same time. The one that can spin lethal poison into nectar, threats into effervescent bubbles, sentencing into a whimsical communiqué. Soft words that carry grievous consequences pass through comely lips that always seem to be on the verge of a sharp smile. Gilbert may possess an armory of smiles, but there is one there that is reserved for you. The one that is softer, gentler. The one that reaches the red of his eye, illuminating the vivid cerise like a votive candle in a cathedral.
You know the taste of that mouth. The cool bite, the wild storm. Those lips can be soft. They can baptize your warm skin with kisses like snowflakes. They can send your pulse into a flurry and freeze the very air in your lungs, all of you locked in an icy cage of longing. And those lips can part, baring sharp, white teeth that savor the feel of your body and leave a wanton trail of rose-red marks in their wake.
Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart
⚠️KEITH HOWELL ROUTE SPOILERS WARNING!⚠️
I noticed something in his story, which made me wonder (I will put it under the cut!):
When he started telling Mc the reason his second personality was born, he thought back to the past. Keep in mind that Keith is many times called a "tree" by the rest of the characters (and even his little bird believes in that).
It was mentioned by Gilbert how he (Keith) lost someone very precious to him before, which shows the importance his little brother (Tio) had in his life.
Now back to the flashback, Keith was running with his little brother through the unknown, scary forest, until he noticed a tree that was hollow, and he hid him there, telling him to not leave. But Tio wanted to protect him as well, knowing the burden Keith carried all this time from the pressure put on him, so when Keith was on the ground and ready for the sword of the enemy to kill him, he felt the weight of his brother, who got killed instead.
This made me think how that the tree truly represented Keith and how he feels about his brother. He was "hollow", but happy he could protect him, and the tree protected Tio inside it. It was as if his life became "full". Yet, the moment Tio left, the tree became hollow again, and it's how Keith feels for the loss of his brother, and his inability to make their promise with each other to come true.
Just a random thing🥲
HELLO INK🥺💖 How are you doing? I hope you are taking care!
I see that requests for ikepri are open👀👌🏻
May I ask for Keith, with a reader/lover who likes making puns about plants? 😌
Good luck on your writing🥺💕
╰┈➤ Aloe you vera much
Character: Keith Howell x reader
Fandom: Ikemen Prince
Warnings: Some slight spoilers from his route and the act 2 prologue
Ink's note: If it isn't my favorite Nadi!!! I was so happy when I saw your request in my inbox and I just love this ask because it's so unique haha. I hope I did this justice and that you and the other readers like it even though it's short <3
Keith loved many things about you. Your kind nature, radiant smile, cute laugh, shiny smooth hair-
Okay, he could go on and on about the million things he adored about you. But how could he not? The prince was still in shock that you reciprocated his feelings and even more surprised at the fact that he was in a relationship with such a beautiful and kind person!
The Gods were being very kind to him when they blessed him the chance to meet you that day.
It was that night when he had come to Rhodolite for the meeting. Keith stood outside in the balcony, looking at the stars in the sky. Your footsteps were light as you stood a few feet away from where he was standing.
Idiot, why do you keep staring at her?
He questioned himself, but his eyes were locked on your shining eyes and beautiful smile for a few minutes.
Something like this had never happened to him before and he wasn't sure what to make of it.
"Hey, are you out here to get some fresh air?" He heard the soft voice call out to him.
Keith wasn't sure how to answer.
Were you talking to this failure of a prince? And how were you so friendly despite meeting him for the first time?
You smiled and took a step closer, leaning against the balcony and looked at him. "It gets really stuffy in such places, I know. I am ___, what's your name?"
That small encounter led to you both becoming friends and also made you both endure a lot of hardships. But you stayed with him, you reassured him that he wasn't a failure and that you loved him.
Love...
The day you confessed your feelings to him, was surely the best day of his entire life.
But something that still caught him off-guard was how you made puns and jokes on the spot. This habit of yours always made him laugh.
.
.
.
"Keith, you make my heart skip a beet. I would never leaf you." He stifled a laugh as he read the note at this desk. He knew you were the one who had done this and such a small thing made flowers blossom in his heart.
The prince neatly folded the piece of paper in his hand and put it in his pocket.
"Really, prince Keith?" Liam asked him, raising a brow.
Keith still had a happy smile on his face. "Don't worry, Liam. You will understand how I feel when you fall in love with someone as wonderful as ___."
Even Liam couldn't help shaking his head slightly at his words. But he still liked this Keith more than the previous one. And it was all because of you, so Liam was very grateful for that.
.
.
.
"Keith, did you get my note?" You asked him, turning around slightly to face him. Keith had his arms around you as he hugged you, and of course...you were sitting on his lap. But hey, how could you say no when he gave you those eyes?
He smiled, "I read it. And thank you, it made me very happy."
Your lips perked up after hearing his words. Keith softly kissed your cheek.
Oh, how much he loved you.
"Keith?"
"Yes?"
"Aloe you vera much."
Once again, you surprised him with your confession of love and the pun...
Yeah, he loved you more now. And Keith was sure that his feelings for you would only grow. The prince surely didn't want it any other way.
Headcanons: a kiss in each season with 4 different princes!
A/N: So after talking a bit to the lovely @bellerose-arcana I added 4 vamp suitors too!
Word Count: 872
Spring: Clavis / Mozart
Clavis kisses you with all the vibrancy of spring. You feel alive like a riotous blossom proclaiming its return from a long season of sleep. Wild and full of abandonment, you throw your arms around him the way Mother Nature haphazardly throws color back into the world. Every shade of green from pale jade to deep forest colors your heart. Petals practically vibrating with the force of their colors, the pinks and reds and blues and yellows, bloom within its chambers. It is the season of rebirth, of hope, of emergence. This is what you feel when you kiss him. A fountain of love that springs between your hearts, whose refreshing taste is on your lips every time you kiss.
Kissing Mozart feels like the thaw of winter as it slowly melts away, giving up its hold on the world so that spring can be born. You are Persephone, rising from the Underworld to breathe life into his wintery form. Your fingers run through pale, snowy hair, curl into its softness. Cool amethyst eyes slowly warm, ignited by the feel of you pressed against him. Color stains his cheeks like sunlight breaking through the gloom. His embrace shifts, muscles going lax, his body warming under your touch, softening and opening like a bud reaching for the sun.
Summer: Keith / Leonardo
Keith is like a summer’s day that sneaks up on you with its intensity. He wraps his strong arms around you and you are warm and safe and the world is bright. His embrace is the brilliant blue sky wrapping itself around you. It feels expansive yet welcoming. You could lose yourself in it and be happy forever. And then he kisses you, pure and joyful, and you taste sunshine on your lips. He is the brightness of red strawberries and the sweetness of peaches. You tighten your arms around him, wanting more. As you linger in his embrace, as you chase the taste of him, heat builds inside you, waves of it slowly rolling through your veins. This is no longer a soft summer morning, but midday in all of its sweltering glory.
Summer has its halcyon days that seem to stretch on forever, where the sun lounges in the sky like a lion on the Savannah, sprawling across the day it knows it owns. Leonardo pulls you to him, almost lazily. Definitely possessively. As the sun greedily clutches the sky, he holds you against his body, his kiss a paradox: slow and heated, unhurried, the languor of the day conveyed through lips and tongue....yet these slow, decadent kisses spark a thundering through your veins, loud and wild as a sudden summer storm.
Autumn: Leon/ Comte
Leon cups your face in his strong hands, his eyes as gold as the turning leaves, bright as a brilliant autumn sun when he looks at you, the anticipation of your kiss akin to the trees bracing themselves, whispering of the coming winter. But there is nothing cold about the feel of his mouth on yours. His lips move over yours, soft as cashmere, sweet as apple cider. His fingers trace the curve of your jaw. You melt against him, your heart soaring like a kite on the wind, a tail of soft, glowing sparks trailing across your skin.
Comte’s touch is gentle, sure and velvet with desire. His lips brush the lightest of kisses across your collarbone, a cool autumn mist rolling across trembling fields of gold. You plunge your fingers into the silk of his hair, baring your neck to his wandering mouth. The long line of your throat echoes the wolf, head thrown back to howl its love for the beauty of a harvest moon. And when Comte raises his head, his eyes amber on fire, lupine in ferocity, you know his restraint has been pushed to its limit....and desire, with all the force of an October storm, is about to break free.
Winter: Gilbert / Vlad
Kissing Gilbert is wrapping your arms around the chilled air, pressing your lips to the smooth, slate gray clouds and tasting the sweet shock of cold on your tongue right before it melts. His fingers trace a frosted filigree against the nape of your neck, an invisible tattoo marking you as his. Teeth, white as snow, are winter’s bite when they nip your sensitive, flushed skin. The sting leaves you red, red with the evidence of his desire, red with a bonfire growing within. His hunger consumes you, a blizzard of craving and voracity that you willingly yield to, that you blissfully allow to swallow you whole.
Vlad holds you in his arms, the soft black satin of a winter sky embracing its precious diamond stars. His beauty is the softness of snow as it floats down to earth. And just as snow covers all in a blanket of glistening white, so does he enfold his beloved in his arms, wrapping you in an embrace as soft and tender as the light in his rose-red eyes. He lowers his head, his lips brushing yours. You feel beautiful, treasured, as if the white winter moon has chosen to bathe you in its soft, argent light. You wrap your arms around him, closing your eyes, knowing he will always be your way through the darkness, your warmth in the cold.
Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @kissmetwicekissmedeadly
🦌🎊Happy Birthday Keith!🎊🦌
Ha-Ha, here's alter!keith for you 🫣
I love him ❤️
Please don't repost/steal. Otherwise Clavis will come after you 🐆🙂.
Inspired by xxsycamore's recent success with writing short fics, I wanted to open up requests for super-tiny drabbles of around 100-300 words (may be longer)
Please Note:
I'm only taking requests for Ikepri suitors at this time
Suitor x reader requests will be written in 2nd-person. The reader will be gender-neutral unless you specify a particular gender
Anon requests will be sfw by default, but you still need to be 18+ to request
Request Form:
IKEPRI SUITOR: TYPE: choose from suitor x reader, suitor x emma, or a platonic episode featuring the suitor by himself/with other characters READER GENDER: if applicable GENRE: angst, fluff, smut, crack, headcanon, fantasy, scifi, paranormal, horror, slice-of-life, poetry, action, adventure, ransom letter, etc FLAVORING: any particular prompt, ship dynamic, kink, AU, etc RATING: sfw or nsfw ANY OTHER NOTES: if applicable ***To prove that you are 18+, please include the phrase "Silvio's Special Socks" in your ask
>>> Askbox here
Thank you, I'll try not to fail you 😭
⬥◇◆ Clothes Shopping with the Ikeprinces ◆◇⬥
With Act 3 and Silvio's route just around the corner, let's slow down, take a step back, and remember how we all ended up in here. Particularly, how we all ended up in these clothes.
Silvio’s Dubious Preorder ◆◇⬥
*the front door to the clothes shop opens in the middle of the night*
Shopkeeper: Who’s there?
Silvio: Your worst nightmare…
*Silvio drops a heavy bag of coins in the shopkeeper's hands*
Silvio: And your salvation.
Shopkeeper: What?
Silvio: Listen closely, tailor. Tomorrow you will be visited by a pathetic pack of princes with questionable fashion sense. They are in search of new outfits to wear for the upcoming story arc and have chosen your lousy shop as their genius loci. Lucky you.
Shopkeeper: …What?
Silvio: I’ll be in attendance as well, but I’m only interested in an outfit that’ll blow everyone else’s out of the water, so I’ll mostly be observing from the sides. All you gotta do is keep those other guys occupied and catch all the notes I send your way. You’re an experienced man, you’ll know when I’m dropping you a hint. But no one else needs to know about our little deal, capisce?
*Silvio pats the coin bag and leaves. Shopkeeper puts on glasses and cleans out his ears*
Shopkeeper: WHAT?
⬥◇◆THE NEXT DAY ◆◇⬥
Judge Yves, Round 1 ◆◇⬥
Yves: As members of Rhodolite’s domestic faction, we are the pillars our citizens look towards to represent the values our kingdom instills in art, culture, and conduct. The outfits we select today must not only reflect the propriety expected of the royal family, but also that of our people for generations to follow.
Yves: Jin! Button your shirt all the way up right this moment!
Jin: You can’t cage the collarbones, Yves!
Yves: Leon! Too much detailing will overwhelm your conversation partners! You look like you’re drowning in gold.
Leon: But you’re talking to me just fine now?
Yves: Licht! You look wonderful, of course. But if I had to nitpick, the white on your lapels clashes with your black jacket. Try wearing more color, you don’t want to look like a walking chessboard.
*Sariel slowly backs into the dressing room*
Nokto Seeing Double ◆◇⬥
Nokto: No, this blue vest doesn’t bring out my eyes quite right.
*hands vest over to Licht. Licht tries it on*
Nokto: Hm… and these tassels make my face look too narrow.
*hands shoulder pads over to Licht. Licht tries them on*
Nokto: And these black gloves clash horribly with my hair, what was I thinking?
*hands gloves over to Licht. Licht tries them on*
Nokto: You look great, Licht. Ugh, nothing in this entire store works for me!
*a bag of coins flies across the store*
Silvio: Tailor! No vests, tassels, or gloves!
Judge Yves, Round 2 ◆◇⬥
Yves: Ahem! I’m only doing this because you four are an extension of Rhodolite beyond the borders, and I don’t want you messing up our image in front of our neighbors. It’s not like I particularly care how you dress everyday!
Nokto: Aww, Evie, you care~
Yves: Shut it! Ahem! For starters, the white theme you all have is a very nice choice. It’s a good idea to set up a visual indicator to let others know you’re working as a team.
Clavis: Oh, that wasn’t intentional. This humble shop is simply fortunate enough to have had enough pieces for each of us. Otherwise, these poor white coats would have been prematurely stained red! Hahaha!
Yves: Wha—?
Clavis: With strawberry jam, of course! Chev gets particularly pouty when someone wears white instead of him. I wouldn’t put it past him to “accidentally” sully that poor someone’s outfit with his toast.
Luke: That’s why I eat mine with honey instead!
Yves: No, that’s why we eat breakfast before we leave the palace!
*Yves swipes the toast from Chevalier and Luke*
Yves: Luke! If you’re going to wear white, you can’t carry honeyed toast in your pockets!
Yves: Clavis! If you’re going to wear a coat over a jacket again, at least make them match in style this time!
Yves: Nokto! If you’re not going to button your vest all the way, you have to wear a shirt underneath!
*Chevalier covers his chest and slowly backs into the dressing room*
Small Talk Sariel ◆◇⬥
*In a quiet corner of the store, Keith looks over himself in the mirror. Sariel notices and joins him*
Sariel: Ah, a modest choice, Prince Keith. Were you to show Prince Yves, I am certain he would impart nothing but praise.
Keith: 🙂
Sariel: Modesty is, of course, cornerstone for a prince to emblem. Although, with our continent so rife with rowdy royals, one would not want to appear too humble, lest he be trampled by his more verbally-inclined peers.
Keith: 😐
Sariel: But too loud a statement piece would have a similar effect of disfavor among colleagues. One would not want to appear too brash in company of those whose opinions matter.
Keith: 😟
Sariel: Finding that sweet spot in the middle is crucial to deduce, and this is the moment to do it. Tell me, Prince Keith, is this the outfit you wish to present to the world in the next act?
Keith: Excuse me, I seem to have misplaced something in the dressing room.
*another bag of coins flies across the store*
Silvio: Make it loud, tailor!
Multi-talented and Multi-purpose Luke ◆◇⬥
Luke: Hey, Yves! How about this? I keep the lid open just enough to stick a spoon in like this, and my pockets get to stay completely… Hey, you okay?
*Yves blushes in surprise*
Yves: Yes, yes! Why wouldn’t I be?
Luke: Well, you’ve been standing by the hair accessories for a long time now.
Yves: Because there’s no one else here. I need rest from evaluating all your outfits, obviously.
*Luke puts down the honey jar*
Luke: Hey, close your eyes for a bit.
Yves: What for?
Luke: Just trust me. Besides, you said you wanted to rest, right?
*5 minutes later*
Luke: Tada! Whaddya think?
Yves: How did you…?
Luke: My sister used to make me braid her hair all the time. I’d say I’m pretty good at it, eh?
*Yves blushes in joy*
Yves: Thank you. But how did you manage to keep it in place? You didn’t use any clips or anything.
Luke: Oh, that’s ‘cause I packed it tight with honey. It oughta keep its shape all week, plus it’s good for the scalp. Bonus!
*Yves blushes in rage*
Life Lessons with Big Brother Jin ◆◇⬥
Jin: Hey, Chevalier. Come try this cloak on, it’ll help cover your…
*Chevalier quickly wipes his mouth and hides his hands behind his back*
Jin: …
Chevalier: …
Jin: Chev…
Chevalier: I was merely inspecting them for poisons.
Jin: Come on, big guy. We’ve been through this.
Chevalier: The showoff apprehended my toast.
Jin: You can’t eat the roses.
Chevalier: …
Jin: …
Chevalier: The yellow ones taste best.
Jin: So you’ve told me.
*yet another bag of coins flies across the store*
Silvio: Bring me the juiciest rose you have! I know you’re keeping it from me!
Gilbert’s Infinite Hyperspace ◆◇⬥
Gilbert: Are you sure the shopkeeper won’t mind you making alterations to his designs?
Clavis: That wonderful man doesn’t need to worry about a single hair on his rapidly balding head! I won’t be defiling his style because all the additions I’m making will be completely hidden from sight.
Gilbert: How like you to run your dirty work in the shadows. Such fun.
Clavis: I wouldn’t use that particular arrangement of words to describe it, per se. But considering Sariel has egregiously forbidden me from purchasing more than one belt today, I am forced to improvise my carry-on capabilities.
Gilbert: Ah, pockets! How very fun, indeed!
Clavis: Not just any pockets! Secret pockets! And just look at this enormous canvas I have to work with! Only… my hands were full on the way over here carrying Chevalier’s breakfast, so I wasn’t able to bring much of my usual tools to measure. I don’t like leaving the palace without at least a net or two on hand.
Gilbert: You can borrow mine!
*Gilbert produces a large fish net out of thin air*
Clavis: How fortunate, this will work nicely! I do wish I could have brought my trusty shovel with me, though.
Gilbert: Regular or extra large?
*Gilbert produces two digging shovels out of thin air*
Clavis: Ah... R-regular is fine…
Gilbert: Anything else?
Clavis: You’ve been plenty helpful, I couldn’t impose—
Gilbert: No need to be shy. You still have plenty of space to work with, I see.
Clavis: …
Gilbert: Try me.
Clavis: …Well, I do like to be armed with more than just my sword—
Gilbert: How about this?
*Gilbert produces a hatchet out of thin air*
Clavis: … Thank you.
Gilbert: What are friends for?
*Gilbert claps his hands, taps his cane twice, and pulls a tiny comb out of the heel of his boot. He combs Clavis’s hair out of his eyes and walks away smiling as the largest bag of coins yet flies across the store*
Silvio: Secret pockets! But don’t tell anyone where they are, you hear? Not even me!
Doggy See, Doggy Do ◆◇⬥
Leon: Find anything you like, Rio?
Rio: Lots! But I’m just not sure she’d like them, too.
Leon: Why not show me what you got so far? I may not be Yves or Sariel, but I’ll bet I can point out a stinker in the mix.
Rio: Okay then. What do you think of this gilded vest?
Leon: Awesome! The color matches your eyes perfectly. That’s good… I think?
*Coin bag toss #1*
Silvio: Tailor! Look into my eyes and get me a jacket that matches them perfectly! No, not a vest! We said no vests!
Rio: Huh, that was weird. Anyway, what about this broach?
Leon: She’d love it! The looped design brings out the curves of your smile just right. That kind of attention to detail is probably really important.
*Coin bag toss #2*
Silvio: Tailor! Bring me your loopiest jewelry! The more hoops, the better!
Rio: Did you hear something? Ah, nevermind. Do you think I should go with one earring or two?
Leon: Hmm… Yves rocks the one earring look—
*Coin bag toss #3*
Silvio: Tailor! I want your gaudiest single earring in my palm right this second!
Leon: —but earrings are supposed to come in pairs, right? So maybe two would be fine. For symmetry, and all that.
*Coin bag toss #4*
Silvio: Make that two!
Leon: Sorry, I’m not too sure, to be honest.
*Rio knowingly smirks*
Rio: Your advice is great, Prince Leon. Tell me, what do you think of these snow boots?
Leon: Well, it’s not exactly winter. But they’re really a statement piece, and she might appreciate a good conversation starter.
*Coin bag toss #5*
Silvio: I need the furriest boots you’ve got in this place, pronto!
Rio: And this zebra-print cloak?
Leon: Chevalier looks good in tiger stripes. I guess that’s basically the same thing.
*Coin bag toss #6*
Silvio: Where do you keep the darn striped fabrics, old man?
Rio: Great! What’s your opinion on oversized hats?
Leon: Uhh… go big or go home?
*Coin bag toss #7*
Silvio: GO BIG OR GO HOME!!
Leon: Hey, Rio, do you hear an echo?
Rio: Nope. Just the sound of a nation’s GDP falling.
I wanted to add a joke about their gloves, but this post is getting way out of hand, even without puns.
Tagging: @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar @my-day6
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A/N: This year, as I deal with a far more limited amount of free time, I want to focus on writing things that really spark something for me. These headcanons, which I started almost 6 months ago, recently came roaring back into my imagination and I decided to go for it.
This is imagining how these suitors would react to their small child entering their bedroom in the middle of the night.
Leon, Sariel, Jin, Keith and Gilbert
WC: 2.2 k
The child's white bedroom door, painted with a silvery moon and twinkling stars, opens slowly, a whisper in the still of the night. A small head pokes out, knuckling sleepily at eyes still heavy with the remnants of dreaming. A look left, then right.
The hall is empty.
Tiny bare feet tiptoe across plush carpeting.
One hand clutches a stuffed animal, the other reaches for the curved handle of your bedroom door and which, on a quiet exhale, opens.
Leon
He is awake the moment the door opens. A light sleeper, he never fails to hear when his daughter enters your bedroom, no matter how quietly she tries to. Even now, he pushes himself up, running a hand through his cacophony of dark hair, watching his offspring step as quietly as possible as she makes her way towards the bed. She’s so concentrated on not making noise that she doesn’t notice he’s already up and watching her until she arrives at the foot of the bed.
“Papa!” Her gasp is half surprise, half disappointment when she realizes he has, as always, heard her. Leon laughs softly, the sound still rough with sleep as he motions for her to come over to his side of the bed.
“I was trying to be extra, extra quiet.” He offers her his hand and she takes it, climbing into the bed and then into the circle of his arms where he cuddles her close. “You were, peanut. You were very quiet but your father has very, very good ears. Especially at night.”
Perhaps someday she’ll learn why. How good hearing and light sleeping could mean the difference between life and death in the slave pens. But not tonight. Tonight she snuggles into his embrace, clutching her brown bear with his black and red cape to her chest.
“Shall I bring you back to your bed?” He brushes several dark locks of hair that have escaped her braid away from her plump cheek, his golden eyes warm with affection. His daughter stifles a yawn. “Can I stay here tonight, with you and Mama?”
How can he say no? “Of course.” He shifts her, tucking her in close against his side where she curls up like a kitten, warm and content. Leon sighs, his heart fuller than he ever imagined it could be, before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.
Sariel
He looks up from the paperwork on his lap when the bedroom door slowly opens. One glance at the clock on his nightstand and he knows exactly who dares enter his room, unannounced, in the middle of the night.
His son, hair dark as onyx, eyes as bright as violets, peeks around the door to see his father sitting up in bed, reading by the soft light of an oil lamp.
“I see you, little one.” The child gives up stealth and hurries into his parents’ room, climbing up the foot of the bed and crawling his way across the velvety covers up to Sariel, careful not to jostle you while you are sleeping. He settles in next to his father, peering at the sheaf of papers still in his hands. “Why are you still up, Papa? It’s so late.”
Sariel glances down at his son, his lips curved in a soft shadow of a smile. “You know what? You are correct. It is very late.” He carefully removes his glasses, placing them in a safe spot on his nightstand and then sets the missives and letters and parchments beside them. He extends his arms and his son happily accepts the silent invitation, burrowing into his father’s embrace, clutching his soft, stuffed snake with the onyx eyes close to his little chest. “We’ll go to sleep together, ok Papa?”
Sariel reaches out, extinguishing the warm light and then shifts, dipping his head to press a kiss to his son’s midnight hair. “A sound plan, son.” He closes his eyes, contentment flowing through him like the soft waves of the ocean. “A very sound plan.”
Jin
He freezes, lifting his head from your neck, his large hand going still on the sensitive skin of your hip. As involved as he may be with you, he has excellent hearing and the opening of the door is as loud in its whisper as a gust of howling wind. He feels the soft huff of air against his cheek as you reign in your galloping heart. Things were just getting good.... With a groan, a mixture of disappointment and the dying embers of desire, he sits up as you adjust your nightgown and tilts his head at the small outline in the doorway.
“Yes, Princess? What is it?”
“I heard a noise. In my wardrobe. I think there’s a monster in there.” Her voice is small, almost tentative as it floats through the darkened bedroom. Jin pushes back his covers, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He reaches back, squeezing your hand, a gesture that says I’ve got this, before getting up and walking toward his daughter. "Alright little lady, let's go investigate." She slips her small hand in his, clutching her stuffed baby eagle close as they make their way back to her bedroom.
Stepping inside, she pulls her hand away from his and points to the white and lavender closet. “In there, Papa.” Her garnet-colored eyes are wide as Jin clears his throat, fixing a scowl on his face as he faces the wooden doors.
“Listen up. This is Prince Jin speaking and any and all monsters hiding in this wardrobe better leave RIGHT now or else you’ll have to answer to me!”
“Yeah!”, she adds helpfully, eyes narrowing as she glares at the wardrobe, a mirror image of her father.
Jin reaches forward and flings open one door, then the other. Inside are all her dresses and coats. Her shoes all lined up neatly along the bottom. A few stockings peek out of small drawers and her wooden training sword and shield with Jin's crest lean against the side, askew. Jin searches through the clothing, stands on his toes to check the top shelves. He makes a show of it, incredibly thorough and yet serious. Then he turns around to face his daughter. “Looks like any monsters are long gone. And they won’t be coming back.”
A smile like the dawn breaks over her face and she rushes towards him. He leans down and catches her in his arms, holding her tightly against his broad chest. “Thank you, Papa. No monster would ever be stupid enough to come back now!”
Jin carries her back to her white four-poster bed, grinning as he lays her down amongst her fluffy pillows and pulls the soft covers up to her chest. “Nope, not when they know they have to deal with me.” He glances over his shoulder at the wardrobe. “But how about tomorrow, we go to the knights training grounds and you bring your sword and shield. We can work on your swordsmanship so any monster knows to be just as afraid of you too.”
She grins, nodding eagerly. “Good idea!”
Her enthusiasm has him returning her grin and he leans down, running a large hand over the soft chestnut of her hair. “Alright then. Get some sleep so you’re ready for tomorrow.” She snuggles down into the warmth of her blankets, stifling a yawn even as she rolls over. “I love you, Papa.” He swallows for a moment at the lump of emotion that suddenly swells his throat. “I love you too. Princess. So much.”
Keith
Little feet whisper across dark green carpeting, continuing their journey to his side of the bed. “Papa,” she whispers, tugging on his covers, her stuffed deer dangling from her grip on its antlers. Keith inhales, his handsome face frowning in his sleep as her voice cuts through the fog of dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up yet. However, his daughter is nothing but insistent. She pats his upper arm, clearing her throat and speaking again, this time louder. “Papa. Wake up.”
His golden eyes open slowly and he blinks as he returns to the here and now. The sight of her, with her ashen blond hair and your intelligent eyes, has him sitting up in bed, the last misty tendrils of dreaming vanishing like fog in the sunlight.
“Yes, darling? What’s wrong? Is everything ok?”
She glances to your empty side of the bed. “I miss Mama.” Those words send his heart spinning, leaving a trail of ache inside his chest as he nods slowly. “I do too. But you remember how she had to go back to Rhodolite. I promise, she’ll be home again soon. Just a few more days.” He reaches for her hand, his thumb running soothingly over her knuckles, marveling at the tininess of her fingers, the softness of her skin. She speaks again, her voice compressed by sadness. “I still miss her.”
He sighs as she hangs her small head, curls covering her face. Then he has an idea. Slowly he gets out of bed and leads her by the hand across the room to the heavy glass doors of the balcony off of the bedroom, his favorite place in the palace to stargaze. Keeping a secure hold of her hand, he slides open one heavy glass door and then walks with her to the large brass telescope. “Take a look in there,” he murmurs, kneeling as he adjusts the eyepiece for her. He wraps one arm around her middle, holding her close. “Can you see it?”
She leans forward slightly. “It’s blurry.” Carefully he adjusts the focuser until he hears her breath catch. “Oh it’s so pretty!” She stares through the telescope in wonder at the bright star, brilliant in its silvery-blue light.
“That,” he says softly, almost dreamlike, “is your mother’s favorite star.” Gently he pulls her away from the telescope and points upwards. “You can see it without the telescope just there, see the three stars just in a row?” She nods emphatically. “It’s the one all the way to the right.” He pauses, resting his chin tenderly on her small shoulder. “When you miss Mama at night, like you do now, you can look up at the sky and find her favorite star. It may make you feel better.”
She turns around and wraps her arms around Keith’s neck, hugging him with all her might. “Thank you, Papa.” He hugs her close, this walking embodiment of his heart, and smiles.
Gilbert
He is already sitting up when his daughter approaches the bed, her stuffed tiger tucked under her arm. He heard the opening of the door and knew who it was immediately. No one else would ever dare to enter his bedroom in the middle of the night without fearing for their life.
“It’s past midnight, Mäuschen. Why are you wandering through the shadows?” His voice is a gentle that only you and those very close to Gilbert have ever heard. A genuine softness like the blanket of dusk as it falls over the land, the protective moon whispering as it cradles a favorite star. His daughter sighs, pushing away a stray lock of dark hair. “I’m hungry.”
He laughs quietly, his chin tilting down as he regards her. He speaks quietly, not wanting to wake you. You need rest after all, so close to the birth of your second child. He gets up, slipping on his black silk robe and then holds out his hand. She takes hold of it, wrapping her cool little fingers tightly around him and then pauses. “Wait a moment, Papa.” Turning back to the bed, she carefully places her stuffed tiger next to you where you sleep. “Watch out for Mama,” she orders sternly and doesn’t notice the bright gleam in Gilbert’s eyes as he smiles at her protective gesture. She turns, grabbing his hand and nods. “Ok Papa, fertig.” Ready.
He leads her out of the bedroom and a short walk down the hall to his office. Once inside, he walks over to his massive wooden desk, made of the finest dark walnut, and leans forward, turning on the desk lamp. He settles into his chair, into the crimson velvet cushioned seat and motions for her to join him. The Obsidian princess climbs into his lap, eyes bright as she looks at him expectantly. “Shh…this is our secret,” he murmurs, tapping his finger on the end of her nose. She grins slowly and nods. “Versprochen, Papa.” I promise. One arm holds her close as he leans down and opens a bottom drawer. Inside is a small round tin which he takes out and sets on his desk, next to the missives and parchments waiting for him come morning light.
“Go ahead,” he says encouragingly and she leans forward, carefully working the lid off with chubby fingers and then he feels her straighten up in excitement when its contents are revealed. She reaches in and pulls out a hearty oatmeal and raisin biscuit. The cookie is nearly at her lips when she pauses, thoughtfully. Shifting in his lap, she turns to face him and then holds it up. “Do you want a bite, Papa?” Her generosity has him smiling, a warmth like no other brightening his heart as he pretends to consider. “You don’t mind sharing?” She shakes her head, several loose, dark curls framing a face that is the youthful echo of yours. He leans forward and bites off a tiny corner, then leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Mama makes the best biscuits.”
She bites into the same cookie with much less restraint and then smiles, chewing happily. “Mm hm.” She leans back against his chest and he wraps his arms around her as she continues munching. “Just this one and then it's back to bed with you, little mouse.” She nods, mouth too full to answer and focus far too lost in the pleasure of her treat to respond verbally. Gilbert sighs, turning to rest his cheek against the top of her head. He is utterly and completely at peace.
Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381
For Leon content: @leonscape
For Gilbert and Leon: @ozalysss
For Keith: @drewadoodle-dandy