Ikepri Leon - Tumblr Posts

Hiii gorg I love your style of writing 😳👍 can you maybe write about ikepri suitors in the modem world? Just general stuff like what music would they like or what jobs do you see them working? Anything that you find fit tbh

You're amazing, stay safe and well <3

Hi!!!Thank you for the compliments and the request, i really appreciate it!It took me some time to write for all of them, so i apologize!Please, keep in mind that i don’t know everything about the characters and they might be ooc.I hope you like it~

Type: Headcanons, Modern AU

Game: Ikemen Prince

Characters: All characters

Warnings: Spoilery, characters might be ooc, not the best out there, haha, mentions of alcohol (trigger warning), not the best english (especially with many words).

I’ll write their favourite music, dressing style (both casual and formal), their jobs, their hobbies, their favourite type of food and their favourite drink(s).Keep in mind that these are not all real, i just think they would like these.Thank you!

~Clavis Lelouch

Favourite type of music:Clavis hears anything that sounds good.He can go from pop, to rock, to metal and everything in between.Sometimes, he likes to play songs, like twinkle twinkle little star and he sings it in a childish voice, just to annoy his big bro, Chevalier.Chevalier probably threw a vase full of cold water on him.He would have thrown more, but he doesn’t like wasting precious water for the “laughing clown’s” idiocity.

Dressing style (1~casual):Clavis likes to wear fashionable clothes with lots of twists.He probably wears animal printed clothes and accessories, like a leopard printed hat or coats.For a more casual outfit, he wears a white button up shirt tucked in black skinny jeans and he tops it of with a leather biker-style black jacket (if it’s cold).                                                               (2~formal):For formal wear, he chooses a purple stripped button up shirt with a light grey vest and light grey pants.He puts on a grey long coat to finish it up.

Job:Clavis works as a spy for the Cyber Crime Division.He seems like a maniac to his coworkers, but they know how good he is at what he does.Also, he is good at spying his brother and he sees it as exercise.

Hobbies:Clavis’s hobbies are:drinking smoothies, while spying Chevalier, annoying Chevalier (especially when he is tired) and making things (because he is good with his hands).Clavis doesn’t have a lot of time for himself, but when he does, he makes sure to spend it doing all these things.

Favourite type of food:Clavis loves sweets and junk food.It was a rare treat when he was younger, but now he can eat them.At least, he prefers a healthier version like, fruits on top pf his sweets and salads as side dishes for the food.

Favourite drink(s):This man loves starbucks.He doesn’t drink alcohol due to personal reasons, so he buys them everyday.He buys unicorn coloured drinks & sweets and he tries to give some of them to Cheva.It doesn’t work.

~Chevalier Michel

Favourite type of music:Chevalier listens to classical, rock and metal.He likes songs with deep meaning, because it makes him think/daydream in his free time.He also plays the piano and violin, which got him into classical music.Sometimes, he is forced to here Clavis’s loud stereo, so he hears childish songs and he gets mad.

Dressing style (1~casual):Chevalier wears a white turtleneck shirt, black skinny pants and a long black coat.He also wears black reading glasses.He doesn’t like having a lot of strange addings on his clothes, because he likes being fancy, without being too much.                                 (2~formal):Chevalier chooses suits, which fit perfectly on his body.On top of his suits, he likes wearing black or while long coats and a pair of gloves in the same colour.He always has a golden pin with chains on, which keeps his tie straight and neat.

Job:Cheva works as an Army Strategist and as a Defence Minister.All the people trust him, so they voted for him.He was already a strong man before, but now he became even more, to help protect his country and those in need.

Hobbies:Chevalier, naturaly, loves to read romance novels.His mansion has two rooms as libraries.He also keeps shelves of books in his room.Another thing he likes is learning more and more (languages and other things), because he is fast at learning and they might come in handy.

Favourite type of food:Chevalier doesn’t care much, though he prefers eating foods with a lot of protein and vitamins.He is used to eating mostly these types of food, because of his work.He sometimes eats sweets, but never the unicorn ones Clavis tries to feed him.

Favourite drink(s):Cheva is not a big fan of alcohol.Alcohol has a lot of bad sugars for his health and he also doesn’t like getting drunk.Especially when he works.He drinks plenty of water and tea.

~Luke Randolph

Favourite type of music:Luke listens to pop and classical music.If he likes a song that is different, he is going to hear that as well.He doesn’t really care, but he prefers soft and gentle sounds.

Dressing style (1~casual):Luke picks long green t-shirts with V-Neck as a top and dark purple sweatpants as bottoms.On top of all that, he wears an oversized dark grey jacket.He likes those colours, because they remind him of the forest and nature in general.                                                         (2~formal):Luke wears a grey button up shirt in a pair of grey jeans.He tops it off with a stylish but still comfortable grey jean jacket.

Job:This tall gentleman loves honey, so he decided to work as an apriarist.Not only does he help feed and keep safe as many honey bees as he can, he takes the honey away without hurting them or destroying their houses (beehives).

Hobbies:One of Luke’s hobbies is helping and playing with the forest animals.These animals are drawn to him and want his attention.He puts water and food all over the place, so they can find it easily and get ready for the cold weather.

Favourite type of food:Of course, his favourite food is honey.It had to do with a lot of hard things he went through in his past and he doesn’t want to forget.It’s also sweet and healthy, so he prefers it.He also likes homecooked meals, because they are warm and he feels safe.

Favourite drink(s):Luke’s favourite drinks are tea and milk.These drinks are both warm and sweet (he drowns them in honey).They are perfect for a cold day and a hot day.All the stress goes away and he is calm again.

~Leon Dompteur

Favourite type of music:Leon listens to alternative rock and pop.He likes to dance around in his days off, when he is at home.He goes to a lot of concerts with a few of his brothers to enjoy a night out.The music he hars goes well with his personality and he always has fun.

Dressing style: (1~casual):Leon lives for more casual outfits that are different from the stiff clothes he wears at work.He goes for a black t-shirt that shows his abs and black pants that hug his waist.He is naturally warm, so he believes he doesn’t need a jacket.                                            (2~formal):Leon wears a black turtleneck shirt and black or dark grey pants.Sometimes, he puts on a dark grey suit jacket to look even better.

Job:Leon works with Chevalier as an Army Strategist.He gets well with the soldiers and they follow all his commands.He knows his brother is harsh, but he informs the new soldiers how much he cares for their country.

Hobbies:Leon’s hobby is having fun with his loved ones.He’ll prefer social gatherings and talking with people.He is easy to talk to, so his family gets together because of him.He might enjoy dancing, so he could be ready to impress his lover.

Favourite type of food:Yves’s baking/cooking.Not only does the food he makes tastes good, it’s also very fun to tease him.Sometime, he dines outside.If a person he loves makes food, he’ll eat it without much care if it tastes good.He is happy they did it.

Favourite drink(s):Leon can drink nearly everythinng.He can go from drinking alcohol with Jin, to drinking tea and milk with Luke.He doesn’t want to get drunk, because it’s bad for his job and his health, so he doesn’t do it too much.

~Yves Kloss

Favourite type of music:Yves listens to whatever sounds good and has style.He secretly listens to meme cat meowing his favourite songs.He learns the choreography in every song that has one.If his brotherd catch him doing that, he tries to deny it while blushing.

Dressing style (1~casual):Yves wears skinny black jeans with cuts on the knees and a pink oversized sweater.On top, he wears a grey cardigan.His clothes look big on him and it makes him look cuter.                                    (2~formal):He wears a white button up shirt, tucked in grey pants.He wears different coloured ties, but prefers pink, grey or black ones.He also wears a pink suit jacket.He likes being stylish in everything he does.

Job:Yves works at a pet shop.All the pets that live in here love him.The people that want to buy a animal have to watch him trying to put the animals in their (boxes/the things they put them in when they go somewhere).The animals are cuddling him and pawing at his cheeks.Yves is happy they found a home, but he is also sad, because he liked playing with them (even if that meant getting teased by his brothers).Yves secretly works as a stylist and he sketches clothes for women and men.

Hobbies:Yves hobbies have to do with beauty.He changes hairstyles or he goes shopping for clothes and accessories.He is calming down whenever he does that.Yves also enjoys doing new things, like joining art classes (painting, writing, dancing).

Favourite type of food:Yves loves cakes with fruits on top.He likes it when fresh berries are used to make them.They are not too sweet, but they live a nice taste in his mouth.He eats other foods, of course, because he knows that he has to be healthy.He eats for every meal of the day.He scolds Clavis for his choices and is discusted with his eating habits.He also cooks for himself (and some of his brothers).

~Nokto Klein

Favourite type of music:Nokto listens to pop (because most of the explicit songs he likes are pop).His tastes may change, but it also depends on his mood.If he is in a certain mood, being withh his lover and all, he stays with his normal choices.

Dressing style (1~casual):For a more casual look, he braids one side of his hair and it goes up in a high ponytail.He wears grey skinny jeans and a baby blue t-shirt.If it becomes too cold, he’ll get a white jacket.                    (2~formal):Nokto can go from a total white look to a white and baby blue look.He’ll choose a blue tie, with a white button up shirt and white pants.Nokto will take a white suit jacket on his shoulders and it’s kept on it’s place by a silver chain.

Job:I can see most of the brothers working together, so he’ll probably would be a spy for the Army, set by Chevalier himself.He is not scared to do reckless things and get in trouble.He knows how to keep secrets from the others.

Hobbies:Nokto’s hobbies are learning things about other people and most of all, what his lover enjoys.He likes trying new things with his S/O, that both are comfortable with.Another hobby of his is annoying and teasing his brothers that don’t want that don’t want that type of attention.

Favourite type of food:Nokto enjoys sweet, salty and savoury foods.Of course, there are some that make him feel better than others, so he prefers them.He finds some foods amusing, like the rainbow coloured ones and he wants to try them.

Favourite drink(s):If he is not at work, he likes strong liquor, but when it’s work related he’ll drink something softer and give the strong drinks to his enemies.That doesn’t stop him from enjoying drinks like sodas.Nokto tries Clavis’s favourite drinks, but he isn’t the biggest fan.

~Licht Klein

Favourite type of music:To most, Licht seems like a very quiet guy, but the music he likes isn’t always like that.He listens to every type of rock, pop and hip hop music.He is someone that likes the deep meaning every song has and he always remembers their lyrics.

Dressing style (1~casual):Licht has an angelic face and he knows what goes better with that.He wears a white oversized button up shirt with baby blue buttons in the middle and light blue skinny jeans.                                  (2~formal):For formal wear, Licht chooses a blue-grey suit, a yellow bowtie with a red ruby in the middle.On top, he wears a grey cardigan to keep himself warm.

Job:Licht is a soldier, who is not afraid to lose his life.Just like his twin, he doesn’t care about doing reckless things, because he lives for others, mostly.He doesn’t show that he cares for his brothers, but it can be seen.

Hobbies:For Licht, martial arts is the way to relax.Marial arts are not for fighting and killing someone.The first thing you learn is to keep yourself calm and then safe in front of difficult situations.That’s what Licht likes, so he follows it.Other things Licht likes to do is sing lullabies from his childhood and dance hip hop.

Favourite type of food:Licht absolutely loves sweets.Tarts full of chocolate, berries and other fruits are to die for.Sometimes, he secretly wants to eat Yves’s cakes, so he pouts at him, which always works to his favor.

Favourite type of drink(s):He doesn’t drink too much, he prefers water, tea and milk.First of all, it’s easier to drink them when eating.Second of all, he doesn’t want to get drunk (he doesn’t know if he can hold it).

~Sariel Noir

Favourite type of music:Sariel has gone through so much stress, so he just listens to screamo.If he feels better, he’ll hear to classical music while sipping his tea.He won’t say no to a new beat, but he’ll hear it if he can hear the voice clearly (so he can judge).

Dressing style (1~casual):If Sariel has time to go out without having to care for his work (or babysitting the brothers), he’ll wear a black, long sleeved shirt tucked in a nice pair of black pants.                                         (2~formal):He wears a black button up shirt with a silky red tie.He prefers black suits to go with, which have red details on top.He is stylish and he believes that black goes with everything.

Job:Sariel is a babysitter.Just kidding.He works as a Judge.He is amazing and fast.He knows when people feel guilty and it’s easy to find who is at fault.Definitely takes a lot of painkillers for those headaches.

Hobbies:He plays every classical music instruments when he has free time.He learned to play when he was younger and it always calmed him down.He also enjoys reading books (classic literature).

Favourite type of food:Sariel eats healthy most of the time, but he has cheat days.He can relax and eat sweets and junk food, while watching a movie or eating with company.

Favourite drink(s):Sariel drinks alcohol, not until he is completely wasted.He enjoys drinking if the company is good.But he prefers drinking tea and relaxing by his own.

~Rio Ortiz

Favourite type of music:Rio listens to everything.And by everything, i mean everything.He doesn’t care if the voices are clean or good, he is just happy to have something to hear.If his future S/O has a fave, then it’ll become his fave as well.

Dressing style (1~casual):Rio works a lot of hours a day, so he doesn’t dress too casual.If he can choose, then he wears blue jeans and coloured t-shirts.(Or a pair of pjs.)                                                                                (2~formal):Rio wears coloured button up shirts and black or white pants and a matching jacket.He doesn’t care much about his style, but he is forced when he works.

Job:Rio works as a lawyer, next to Sariel.He is clever and witty.When the other lawyers face him, they think they have to do with a child, but he is fast at gathering iinformation and he uses it against them.That’s the only reason Sariel keeps him.

Hobbies:Rio searches information about new people he meets, just for fun.He also has a puppy, but it mostly stays with close friends.When he is at home, they cuddle together and he feed it with it’s favourite treats.

Favourite type of food:Rio knows how to cook special meals, so he enjoys eating them.If he is too tired, he’ll eat pizza and he’ll later have some cookies to make himself feel better.

Favourite drink(s):He drinks a small amount of alcohol (to drown his pain).He likes drinking nearly all kind of drinks, even the crazy ones, especially if he has good company to share them.

~Jin Grandet

Favourite type of music:Jin listens to pop songs and the songs that are heard in bar-clubs.Sometimes, he hears the songs his brothers send him in the messenger app they all have.

Dressing style (1~casual):Jin wears forest green shirts or t-shirts and black pants or blue jeans.He might wear t-shirts with tie stamps on them.   (2~formal):He rarely wears formal clothes.He thinks they are too stiff and it’s not easy to move his body.Sadly, Leon takes him on gatherings, where he is forced to dress up.Jin tries on dark blue suits and green button up shirts.

Job:Jin is a bartender.It wasn’t because he liked those places.Not only, at least.He has women with big chests to work around the place.Sometimes, he stops his work, just to look and flirt.

Hobbies:His favourite hobby is staring at chests and have Clavis next to him, telling him that women with beautiful legs are the best.Another hobby of his is making a chaos in his house and calling Yves, only to laugh while he runs away.

Favourite type of food:Jin eats foods with lots of protein.He likes to eat everything tasty.He is one of those that trick Yves into cooking.

Favourite drink(s):Jin is used to drinking alcohol and he doesn’t get drunk easily.He enjoys cocktails from his bar and juices.He is okay with tea as well.

THE END.

NadiaSilver~

AN:Thank you very much for reading, and i’m sorry for repeating so many words!I hope you enjoyed it!Also, my requests are open to everyone!I write for ikemen revolution, ikemen vampire and ikemen prince!

Hi(≧▽≦) uwu I like your writings, like very much(◍•ᴗ•◍)❤ I want to request Cheva, Leon, Yves, Clavis reactions with an mc that is a tsundere (｡・//ε//・｡)

Hehue

Hello~(^-^)/.Thank you so much for your kind words and the request!I hope you enjoy!

AN:The headcanons are gender neutral and i’m sorry for my English!

Type:Headcanons

Game:Ikemen Prince

Characters:Chevalier Michel, Leon Dompteur, Yves Kloss and Clavis Lelouch

Warnings:Fluff, Clavis’s favourite activities.

~Chevalier Michel:

When Chevalier, at first, found out that you were a tsundere, he didn’t pay it a lot of mind.

When you became a couple, he realized that he loved to tease you more and more.

You always hid your face from the embarrassment.

He calls you cute and tells you how adorable you are, even though you always answer him that you aren’t.

He is also a secret tsundere, (when it comes to his feelings, not that he is hiding them either), that doesn’t want to tell you about the true meaning about his words, so it’s easier for him to read you like an open book.

He adores it when you blush and pout at him.It always leads to him cuddling with you in his room.

You wake him up everyday in the morning and you tell him that he should eat his breakfast.

“Oh, do you care so much if i eat breakfast or not?”He always seemed to ask teasingly, with a smirk.

“It’s not like i care if you have breakfast, or if you get all the nutritions you need...or if you feel unwell.I don’t care, at all.”You answer him, while pouting and looking at the wall.

Chevalier snorts whenever he hears you say that.

You make him want to kiss you all the time and everywhere he can.

If you try to deny your love for him, he’ll kiss you passionately, to make you forget about what you were even talking about.

~Leon Dompteur:

From the moment he met you, Leon thought that you sounded a lot like Yves.

But of course, you and your tsundere-ness had to steal his heart.

Leon knows that you are a caring sweetheart on the inside and it makes him melt and smile softly.

He once saw you hurt your hand because you were carrying a lot of documents, probably given by Sariel.He walked up to you and took them away.

“Are you okay?Does it hurt too much?”He asked worriedly.You seemed to work even more as you got into a relationship with him.

“Of course not, i don’t get hurt.I’m way too strong for that!”You crossed your arms and looked at the side with a small wince.

Leon chuckled.He never thought that you were weak, but the paperwork was heavy, even for him.

“Ah, is that right.”He let those papers (evil papers) on his office desk, and took you bridal style in his arms.

“Well done, (Y/N).”He gave you a kiss on the forehead and went towards his room.

The day ended up with you getting all the hugs and kisses he could give.

You try to deny your love for him, but he is too lovable, so you can’t.

~Yves Kloss:

Yves doesn’t admit it, but he found someone like him.

He tried playing the cold guy, although it didn’t work very well.

While you’re a couple, he thinks that your personality is adorable and at the same time frustrating.

Even complimenting each other turns into an argument.

“Nice outfit.Haah!?It’s not that i love it, it’s just tolerable!”Yves said while blushing and in return, you blushed as well.

“Well, it’s not like yours is any better!It just has nice touches of grey and it’s gorgeously paired together.It’s not special at all!”

Licht was the one in the middle.Poor Licht only wanted to eat his tarts.He shrugged his shoulders and left the two of you alone.He couldn’t deal with this all by himself.

There are also times where both of you are truthful to your feeling and these are the best times.You wear Yves’s clothes and you tell him how much you love him.

He hugs you tightly to his chest and whispers it back.

He thinks you’re the cutest being in the world.

Yves likes to squeeze and kiss your cheeks when they turn as red as a rose.

~Clavis Lelouch:

Oh?We have a new tsundere is the family?What a great time to be alive!

He wants to make you go through all of his pranks.

He leaves more banana peels on the floor, he changes the books you were given by Sariel to study, with his own inappropriate ones.

He loves your reactions and thinks you have the cutest face when you turn bright red and scream at him.He ends up laughing harder than he ever done before.

And then he understands that it’s real laugher and falls head over heels for you.

That only makes Clavis to make you feel more angry at him.

When you get into a relationship, he can’t get enough of you.

He pinches your cheeks and kisses you with so much love.

“Just admit that you love me.”He said.

“What!?There’s no way i love you!I just...tolerate you..but only just a little bit!Don’t let it go over your head!”You pushed your finger on his chest, a furious expression on your face.

Clavis was shocked, then he laughed loudly.

“Hahaha, yes i understand.”

He secretly thanks every power that made you fall in love with him, because you are his precious sweetie.

The End~

AN:Thank you very much for reading!My requests are open for ikemen vampire, ikemen revolution and ikemen prince!Have a great day/mid-day.night~

NadiaSilver~

I will share Leon's fanart from his birthday! (although it's been a few days, happy birthday Prince Leon!)

Can I request a oneshot of Leon making out with mc fluff in his room

AN: Hello!! Thank you very much for the request and for waiting!! I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you like it!

"𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼" Leon Dompteur x Reader fluff

Fandom: Ikemen prince

Character: Leon Dompteur

Warnings: (English), none

The joyful laughter fell in the bedroom like a melody from the most amazing music writer, along with the sun, the veil of light, that painted both your and Leon's features in faint golden hues.

You were facing each other, your soft breathing mixing and your expressions relaxing once again after the fit.

"And this is how Yves chased Jin for that piece of cake." Leon's usually deep voice only sounded deeper, heavy with sleep still clinging on it. His half lidded eyes were gazing into your own equally half closed beautiful ones.

You hummed at him and giggled.

"I remember Yves muttering that he doesn't get paid enough for that. Now I understand what he was talking about." The man by your side snorted and cuddled you to his strong, muscular chest.

"Hmm, that's right. Now, as your lover, it is my duty to know if you have a day off or not, right?" He kissed your forehead and sighed in bliss. What a perfect start of the day.

"I may have one and it might be today." You playfully lifted your head and pecked his lips.

"Is that so?" Leon faked a shocked expression that melted into a smirk, the corners of his mouth lifting up, already guessing your answer. But you didn't back down, looking at him like he challenged you. In the end, it was him that felt like that.

"Was that a kiss? I didn't feel anything to know better." His voice, now more clear than before, as he teased you.

"What if it was?" You asked just as playfully, a sparkle illuminating your whole profile, having Leon fall deeper and deeper in love. It was that light that started it all, that gave a meaning to his every day, that made him love waking up.

"I'll have to make sure my princess didn't trick me, her mere servant." And with that, he let his lips take over yours, taking control of the long and passionate kiss. You were feeling helpless in his arms, your heartbeat going faster than normal.

Your hands reached for his soft hair that was all over the place and you played with the strands, putting some that have fallen behind his ear and lightly nibbling at his bottom lip.

Finally, the prince pulled away, itching to go back and receive more of your love. His eyes stayed close, just like yours did, but none of you understood when sleep engulfed you in its curtains.

The End

Pumpkin Pun-king

Genre: Comedy

Warnings: No pumpkins. Yes puns.

Characters: Leon Dompteur & the Rhodo-bros

Wordcount: 700

Prompts: Masquerade & Talk Exclusively in Puns Potion

A/N: My gift for the 2022 Ikemen Flash Exchange over on @flash-exchange for the awe-inspiring @violettduchess (my Leon-debt to you from summer has been paid 😌)

It is with a certain degree of excitement that the coming of Autumn brings upon its arrival to Rhodolite. It is the time of year that renews the spirit of fellowship. People flood the streets in teams, carrying displays and food and drink, all in preparation for the annual festival held in the town square. Neighbors pick up the mantle of friendship for the occasion, and the brotherly sentiment wafts around like the aroma of a freshly baked apple pie, even reaching as high up as the insurmountable bulwarks of the castle.

Indeed, even the Noble Beasts will take part in the festivities this year.

Though, it would be remiss to say that all eight have nary an inkling of how to participate. The eldest brother made appearances over the years for jolly merriment. And the youngest partook in every celebration since moving to the capital, managing his own honey stall where he displayed an array of hand-crafted concoctions for the public. 

Then there was the middle brother who slipped out from the watchful eyes of ministers and guards for a respite with the townsfolk. They say Rhodolite is known for its proficiency in the arts, and Prince Leon turned absconding into an artform. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that he was most knowledgeable in the customs of the fall festival, and it is with this assurance that the princes allowed him to lead the roundtable meeting discussing their participation.

“And they’re going to spice things up,” Leon said after drilling through the basics.

“Pumpkin spice?” Yves asked excitedly.

“Not that kind of spice, bud. There’s a theme this year: Masquerade Under the Moon.”

Clavis’s hand shot in the air. “But how will I enjoy everyone’s reactions to my potions if they’re hidden behind masks?”

“We vetoed that idea,” Nokto said. “It’s safer to stick with Luke’s honey stand.”

“Nice pun!” Luke high-fived Nokto while Clavis crossed his arms.

“Agreed,” Leon said, “but Clavis makes a fair point. Why don’t we have our own bout of fun, too? We could start a game. First one to find all seven others behind the masks wins a prize.”

“What sort of prize?” Chevalier cocked his eyebrow, and Leon smiled at his interest.

“How about a day off?”

“Found you!”

“Aww, guess I lose. Way to go, Yves!” Jin laughed.

“Maybe if you weren’t stuffing your face you would have had a chance,” Yves scoffed.

“And how am I supposed to eat these pasties with my mask on? Besides, I’d be happy if any of you won.”

“Really?”

“Well, maybe except Clavis. I wonder how he’s doing,” Jin said.

“I saw him.”

Yves jumped at the pale white mask speaking behind him, but sighed in relief when the wearer lifted it to reveal Licht’s gaze. “Found you both.”

Jin handed him a pasty which Licht gobbled thankfully. “But you won’t like what I saw Clavis doing. He’s passing out his potions.”

“What’s the damage?” Yves cried.

“Nothing major. Mostly sneezes and hiccups. But he slipped a special one to Leon.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jin asked.

“He said it was cheese-flavored.”

The three faction members searched the festival high and low, meeting and questioning folks about the whereabouts of their possibly endangered leader. 

They found Luke at his honey stand, who said Leon stopped by and told him “I swiss I knew about your honey years ago!” Soon after they ran into a mulling Nokto, who said Leon found him and said “You’re cheddar off without her, bro.”

Frantic, the three doubled down their efforts, praying Chevalier wouldn’t react brutally in the face of a bad cheese pun. But the warm feeling of the festival left their systems at the sound of their worst fear come-true.

“There you are, Cheese-valier Miche-rella!”

The three rocketed to the source and found Leon lifting his bedazzled black-and-red mask to grin triumphantly at a stoic tiger-masked Chevalier. Time seemed to stop as they stared each other down, the movement of their hair fluttering ominously in the passing breeze.

At last, Chevalier lifted his mask. 

“I shall concede this victory to you if you swear to never utter anything as atrocious in my presence again.”

"Sounds gouda to me, Cheesie!"

*Jin, Yves, and Licht rushing to hold Chevalier back*

This was so much fun! Thank you to everyone who put this exchange together and participated! I can't wait to devour all your works!

hii i saw you’re opening requests for tis the season for love! may i request leon with prompt two? thank you so much :3

A/N: Here you are @leonscape !

A fic for the Tis the Season for Love CCC hosted by @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore

Leon x Reader

Word Count: 651

The salon is bathed in the warm, flickering orange and golds of firelight, highlighting the dark wood and deep reds of the velvet furniture. You are curled up on the end of the couch, one hand holding a small volume of recently translated Tanzanite poetry. The other is running a continuous path through the lustrous jungle of Leon’s rich, chocolate brown hair. He’s laying, long limbs stretched out on the sofa, golden eyes on the fire, listening to you read out loud. He’s not really paying much attention to the words. He just enjoys the sound of your voice, the rise and fall of it, your inflection and intonation, as you earnestly read poems describing feelings of love and loss and loneliness. You’ve reached the final poem and read the last line:

“The indifferent have only one soul, but when you love, you have two.” 

If sighs could have colors, yours would be the softest, most romantic shades of pink and lavender. What a beautiful collection, you think dreamily as you lay the now finished volume down on the end table, lost for a moment in that ephemeral place that a writer leads you to with their words, a place that dissipates like stardust as reality slowly seeps back in.

“The emotions the author manages to convey, the allusions and imagery, the way they describe the depths of grief and the heights of love….” you trail off, your mind still filled with words and phrases and images as you reach for the cup of hot chocolate next to the closed book. “What did you think?”, you ask, glancing down at the head in your lap. No response. The fingers that are still combing his hair stop and then playfully tweak one of the locks that’s sticking straight up. 

“Oi!” he exclaims as he rolls onto his back, head still pillowed on your thigh, his gaze traveling from the firelight to your face. 

“Were you listening at all?” 

His lips curl into a sheepish grin. “Something about love….and two souls?”

The roll of your eyes has him laughing softly, a sound as warm and fulfilling as the cup of hot chocolate you lift to your lips. Yves never disappoints you think as you take a sip of the velvety sweet drink. 

Suddenly the head that was on your lap lifts as Leon pushes himself up, eyes shining now with interest.

“You still have some left?” His own empty mug sits in solitude next to the volume of poetry, empathizing with all the heartbreak within its pages

“Had.” You tip your cup to show him you’ve drained it to the very last drop. 

He tilts his head, at first dismayed by this turn off events, but instead of succumbing to the sadness of there being no more, he is struck by some divine inspiration. 

“I know a way I can still have some.” And then he is leaning towards you, his large hands cupping your face. And his mouth is on yours, parting your lips, a deep, soul-scorching kiss that would normally be kiss number five or six in line and not number one. But he wants a taste of that hot chocolate and will do whatever it takes to get it.

He kisses you breathless. He chases every single bit of chocolatey essence that clings to your lips, your tongue. By the time he is done, you’re left dizzy, your heart spinning wildly in your chest and your mind as melted as the chocolate in your drink.

“We must tell Yves,” he murmurs, “how much we enjoyed the hot chocolate.” You’re both sliding down the couch, his body covering yours in a way that sends a promising heat cartwheeling through you.

“Oh we will,” you answer, wrapping your arms around his neck, admiring the gold of his eyes, the flame in them miniatures of the roaring fireplace. “In the morning.”

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

Hi! I'm so happy to see you are participating! May I please request Leon with prompt #5? Thank you! <3

A/N: This combines two of the requests for Tis the Season for Love CCC hosted by @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore. This Leon prompt was also requested by @joiedecombat. Clavis request was anon!

Leon- scarf sharing, Clavis- ice skating

One of the last bits of fluff before the angst!

Word Count: 1456

Leon- Scarf Sharing

The door to the bedroom opens in what can only be called triumph as Leon strides in on his long legs, holding a present wrapped in forest green paper and tied with a perfect golden bow. The wide grin on his face tells you exactly what this must be. 

Setting aside your book, you slide to the edge of the bed where he joins you, sitting himself down with an air of child-like excitement. “Leon! You found it!” During the smaller, more private exchange of presents at Christmas, Leon had been stricken by the fact that one present for you had seemingly disappeared into thin air. He had showered you with many other wonderful things, but this had bothered him enough to have the whole palace searched for days until, now, finally, it seems the mystery present returned from wherever it had journeyed to.

“Yves found it. What it was doing in the pantry, I have no idea.” You had an idea and it is golden-eyed and lavender-haired with a no-good grin that screams trouble. Clavis hiding presents in odd places would make perfect sense. Any excuse to cause some fanciful trouble.

“Well”, you say as you lean over, kissing his cheek, “I can’t wait to see it!” He hands it over, grinning boyishly. “Just rip it,” he mutters as you carefully untie the bow. “No,” you chide him gently, “we can use the paper and bow again.” He sighs, muttering something about how he is a prince and you are his love and he can get you paper and ribbons any time. You ignore him because it is the principle of the matter. Some people are paper-rippers and others are correct.

The perfectly intact paper and golden ribbon are set carefully aside, leaving you with a chocolate brown box which you open with eager hands and then gasp in delight. Nestled inside is a scarf of the deepest cranberry red, shot through with threads of bright gold. “Oh Leon….” Joy brings a hush to your voice as you touch the material gently. It feels the way you imagine a cloud would, soft and fluffy and immediately wonderful.

“I found it at a stand at the Christmas Market the day I went with Jin and Yves. This sweet little old woman was selling them. I saw it in its box and bought it right then and there.” That is the Leon you love, all heart and spontaneity. You reach inside to take the scarf out. 

You pull….and pull….and pull….and pull….what? Both his and your eyes widen as you realize just how long the scarf is. When you finally have it all in your lap, it spills over both sides, a soft cloud of red and gold. A really, really big, soft cloud. Leon looks crestfallen as he realizes that you can probably wrap the whole thing around your entire body, not just your neck.

“No, it's ok, love. Don’t be sad. I have an idea.” You stand, offering him your hand. “Come with me.”

It’s a cold, clear winter night. The stars shine like extravagant diamonds against the black velvet sky. The sliver of moon is white and pale as bone, allowing the stars their moment to glow. You and Leon are snuggled together on the palatial terrace under a heavy blanket, your necks and shoulders warmed by your enormous, incredibly warm, red and gold scarf. A stone fire pit bathes you both in heat and gentle orange light. “See? Perfect for star-gazing together.” He turns to look at you, eyes bright with admiration for your optimism. “Perfect,” he murmurs in that deep voice you love so much. “Just perfect.”

Clavis-ice skating

You’re reading a book about the far-off Tourmaline kingdom, drinking in the beautiful illustrations of their traditions and customs. You’re particularly engrossed in a description of winter activities when the sofa suddenly dips due to someone throwing himself despondently onto it. “You don’t even notice me anymore. How could you miss a sight such as this entering a room?”

With a sigh you reach out to ruffle his soft, twilight hair, your touch gentle but playful. He pretends to fix it but in truth, any touch of yours is one he treasures. He reaches up, capturing your hand and then holds it captive against his heart. “What has you so entranced, my dear?” You show him the book and the illustrations of people gliding across a frozen lake with blades on their boots. “This looks like such fun!”

He tilts his head, his thumb absently running over the back of the hand he is still holding tightly against his chest. “Would you like to try it?” His tone is forcibly casual, as if it's no big deal but he also gets the reaction he was fervently hoping for. The book almost falls to the floor as you shift to face him, eyes suddenly bright with excitement. “You’ve done this before?” He shrugs one shoulder, but his lips are curved into a wide grin. “Who hasn’t?” The way your smile radiates joy sends his heart into a tailspin. Ducking his head, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand to hide the effect you’re having on him. “Let me make some arrangements….”

Those fateful words ring in your ears several days later as Clavis kneels in the snow, helping secure the ice blades to your sturdiest boots. He checks the straps several times before rising, offering you his arm as he helps you from the bench down the gentle slope to the edge of the frozen lake. There is no one else around as Clavis assured the other princes you would not want to be seen, slipping and falling in front of them and he would do anything to preserve your dignity. 

“Now just ease your way forward. I’ll attach mine and join you in a moment.” One skate touches the ice and immediately you slide forward, nearly pinwheeling away from him. His strong grip holds you in place, his laughter soft. “Hold on a moment dearie. Don’t go running away from me yet.” Once you have your balance, he lets go and moves toward the bench to attach his own blades. You breathe in the crisp air. Your leg muscles are tense and you will yourself to relax. You have always been good at walking on logs and complicated dance steps, both things that require a sense of body and balance. Tentatively you push forward. You are shaky and you are damned slow but you are moving forward. Your body adapts to the movement and after only a few moments of trembling legs and flapping arms, you manage to glide very, very slowly around half of the small body of frozen water.

Clavis applauds you from the lake's edge, his smile brighter than the winter sunlight. “Look at you go!” Pride fills you as you continue your sluggish, but steady progress. “Come on!” You aren’t brave enough to lift an arm to wave yet but you hope your tone conveys your excitement at trying this together.

Your love nods once and confidently steps out onto the frozen lake…..and promptly falls on his princely rear with a yelp. “Clavis!!” You want to turn to help him but if you do it too quickly you’ll end up flat on the ice with him. “Wait, I’m coming.” You move with the speed of an arthritic snail toward where he is trying to rise again with a body that suddenly appears to be made of gelatin as he flops back down onto the ice. “I’m almost there!” You’re still mostly across the lake. Oh dear.

What feels like hours later, you are holding him in your arms, both of you sprawled in the snow at the edge of the lake. His face is buried in your shoulder, red from exertion and embarrassment. “I asked if you had done this before and you said who hasn’t!” You can't help the curling warmth of amusement lacing your chastisement. “I never specified if I was one of the ones who had.” His voice is muffled by your coat and scarf and despite the wet and the cold, you find yourself laughing, a sound that almost soothes the throbbing pain in certain parts of his body that became very well acquainted with hard ice.

You reach out with your gloved hand, pushing back his hair. “How about we take these awful things off and go back to the palace for a hot bath?” He tilts his head up slightly so you can see one golden eye and the wicked flame of suggestion in it. “Together?” You sigh, stroking his hair. “Sure. Together.”

He lifts his head entirely now, injuries seemingly forgotten. “Well what are we waiting for?!” He pushes himself up, wincing and you can only shake your head at the sudden burst of motivation. Ah, Clavis.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

hi there talented writer. I would love to request headcanons (3 or 4?) for the princes and them doing something with a small child (their son or daughter)

I'd love for it to be Leon, Luke, Gilbert, Silvio or Chevalier but I will leave the choices up to you!

Thank you!!!

A/N: Alright anon....here you go!! Sorry this took so long! I did them all 😉

Word Count: 1878

Leon 

She has his hair. Wild locks the color of dark walnut that spill down her small back in a wavy cascade. You braid it every morning but by the end of the day, it has escaped its braided prison and curls with abandon. And so it is up to you or Leon to tame the wild beast with the best weaponry you have: a silver hairbrush and a dollop of oil.

It's his turn tonight. You walk into your bedroom, the night's book selection in hand, to find them on the bed. She sits cross-legged in front of him, telling a very detailed story about an adventurous ladybug she found crawling on the window of her room. Leon is carefully brushing her hair, fingers gentle as he works the brush through her dark tresses. 

You pause, watching them. Her small hands gesture to punctuate her story, a perfect imitation of her father. He listens, nodding intently even though she can't see him. Her story is taken seriously and you love him so much for it. 

He sets down the hair brush, running his hand over the soft fall of her hair. Knowing they are done, she spins around with the type of energy only young children can have, throwing her short arms around his neck. He embraces her, hugging her tightly before pressing a kiss on her dimpled cheek. She giggles and so he does it again, growling like a lion.

Her laughter fills the bedroom, bright and clear as wind chimes. "Papa!" Her voice is bubbly with glee. He kisses her and tickles her and she howls with joy. He tosses her onto the bed, still growling playfully, continuing his loving onslaught.

As she wiggles and giggles at her lion Papa, you sigh through your smile. Her hair is getting tangled and he'll have to brush it again.

Somehow you know neither of them will mind.

Luke 

Your son, with his shock of bright red hair and wide green eyes, is the spitting image of his father. He has inherited Luke’s gentle nature, his easy-going smile and not surprisingly, his love for honey. You set the freshly baked bread down onto the kitchen table, watching the way two sets of moss green eyes light up with anticipation.

Setting a generous slice of thick, dark bread down on his plate, you push the honey jar toward your little guy. Enthusiasm fills him as he reaches for the prized jar and the little metal spoon nestled in it, when Luke’s large hand covers his gently. 

“Let’s do this together, ok? Just like last time.” His son nods and with Luke’s help, carefully scoops out a spoonful of honey and then plops it onto his bread. His gaze darts to you and you nod approvingly, rewarded with a cherubic smile. Luke hands him the smaller, child-sized butter knife. “Like we practiced," he reminds his son gently.

The little boy nods, taking the knife and then very, very carefully begins spreading the honey across his bread. Luke watches, reaching out to help him with the rounded corners, words of encouragement and praise murmured whenever he lets go. The knife at times digs into the bread. Sometimes the honey is spread right off of it. But the bright light of pride shines in your son's eyes as he looks up, challenge conquered. “I did it!”

Luke smiles,  pride mirrored in his expression as he nods, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s head with a large hand. “You certainly did. Now let’s eat!”

Gilbert 

“Papa! Ich brauche Hilfe!” (Papa, I need help!) She races across the thick carpeting of your bedroom, dark hair flying behind her like a wayward banner. Gilbert has just finished pulling on his black leather boots, readying himself for a family excursion while you rifle through your drawers looking for a scarf. 

“Slow down, Mäuschen,” he says gently, an undercurrent of laughter discernible to you in his words. He kneels with a grin as she skids to a stop in front of him, catching her breath long enough to point at her coat. It’s made of rich black wool with large, round, gold buttons, a perfect size for her little hands. “I need help. It’s not working!” She is a perfect, flustered combination of eager to get outside and frustrated that she needs to ask him for help. 

“First of all,” he says, reaching for her hands. “It’s much easier to close the buttons if you are not wearing these.” He carefully pulls on the tips of her small black leather gloves, removing them from both hands and laying them on the edge of the bed. “Now, try again.” At first she looks at the gloves in dismay and you know from experience how proud she is of them and how long it probably took her to get them on. But she blinks her bright ruby-colored eyes and turns her attention back to the coat. Reaching up, she takes hold of one shiny button and holds the flap of the coat with the other hand. Several attempts later, the button isn’t through and she looks up, brow furrowed in annoyance. “It’s still not working.” 

Gilbert reaches out, straightening her coat. “Try again. I’ll hold it still for you.” He keeps hold of the bottom of her coat, pulling so the material is now stiffer, less bendable. Again she takes the button between her small fingers….and this time slides it right through the buttonhole. She doesn’t celebrate yet. The job isn’t done. Determination shadows her young face as she does the same for the entire row of gold buttons. It’s only when the last one slides into place that she looks up with a smile ablaze with pride. “Geschafft!” (Done!)

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the cool skin of her round cheek. “Toll gemacht, Mäuschen.” (Well done, little mouse) He stands, a loving hand lingering on her shoulder as she happily grabs her gloves and begins the process of pulling them on. His gaze finds yours, his smile warm with happiness. This could take a while.

Silvio 

Your son is sitting outside on the terrace, the cobalt blue-tiled floor warm from the sun's rays. In front of him are several pots of paint which he is enthusiastically dipping his chubby fingers into before smearing them across the pages of white paper. You're sitting on the wicker chair nearby, one eye on him and one on the book you are reading.

This is the peaceful scene Silvio comes upon after returning from a meeting in the city. The familiar jangling noise of his clothing and jewelry alerts you both to his presence. Your son leaps up in a hurry, excitement thrumming through his body.

"Papa!" Silvio catches his colorful little hands by the wrists, a wry smile on his face. “Ah topolino, what happened to these?” He makes the little boy's hands wiggle back and forth to an eruption of giggles. “I’m painting, Papa. Come, paint with me!” Silvio releases his son who scurries back to his art. The child glances over his shoulder, eyes as bright as the sea in summer. “Papa?”

Silvio slides off the light, white coat he is wearing and then comes to where you are reading. He pretends to seriously inspect his son’s paintings as he slowly removes the golden rings from his fingers, one by one. You reach up, taking them from him and he flashes you a grin. “Keep a good eye on my treasure, tesoro.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the bad word play but you cannot resist the smile that curves your lips as Silvio lowers his long body onto the tiles, leaning close to the boy with hair pale as dolomite and eyes blue as summer skies. “Now maestro, tell me, where do we need to paint?” 

Chevalier 

Together they stand in front of the white bookshelf in her room, the one with pink painted roses climbing up the sides. He holds her small hand in his as they consider the many, many books she has managed to collect thus far in her rather short lifetime. His pale head nods towards a dark blue book with gold lettering. “We’ve only read this particular story twice.” She turns, her long pale braids swinging as she shakes her head. Her small fingers wiggle, adjusting her grip on him. “That story is about pirates and we read the story about mermaids yesterday. I would rather not have another nautical adventure.”

His inflection is echoed in her young voice, his influence in her vocabulary. He nods, eyes scanning the shelves for another, more suitable choice. “Perhaps the desert instead of the sea.” He taps a finger against a beige book with the title in darkest brown along the spine. Her head tilts to one side, brow furrowed in consideration. “Whenever we read this story and it talks about how hot the desert is, it makes me thirsty and I’ve already had-” She glances over her shoulder at where you are laying out her clothes for the next day. “How many glasses of water did I have at dinner, Mama?”

“Three,” you answer as you lay a pale blue sweater over the sunflower yellow dress you’ve chosen. She turns back to her father. “I’ve already had three.” He tears his gaze away from the bookshelf, regarding her with a shadow of a smile on his lips. “That is very pragmatic of you.” She nods solemnly, squeezing his hand before examining her books once again. Her eyes light upon a book bound in deep green leather, embossed with a tall tower made of gold. “This one!” She slips her hand from him to take the book off the shelf. Though excited, she is careful. Books are treasures and her collection is more pristine than some libraries. Chevalier looks down at her choice and you see how his expression softens. “You’ve made this selection twelve times in three weeks.” 

“I like how you say all the new words!” The book is a story of a princess who travels the world and learns how to say hello in a multitude of languages, all of which Chevalier can speak. She takes his hand in hers again, the book cradled against her chest as she leads him to the large, velvet armchair, the one whose pink perfectly matches the dusty roses adorning her bookshelf. He settles into the chair and she climbs onto his lap, scooting back until she is comfortable. Reaching around her, his arms encircling her, he holds the book upright. “Shall we begin?” She nestles against his chest, azure eyes already eagerly on the book. “Yes, Papa!” 

A split second is all it is. Just a breath of time before he opens the book, but in that space the length of a heartbeat, you see how Chevalier allows the moment in: his daughter curled up on his lap, safe in the soft, warm light of her room, eyes bright with excitement as she waits for the magic of a book to begin, for her father to create that magic for her. His expression is the tenderness the dawn has for the sky, love painted in soft hues across his noble features. And then he clears his throat, opening the book to her delighted, already sleepy smile, and begins.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

Hey!! I have an idea for a headcanon. It’s alright if you don’t like it ☺️. Basically it’s about how the princes would wake mc up. In this case i would assume that mc is a heavy sleeper, who’s got trouble waking up…

Yeah, that’s basically it… 🤭 it’s your choice if you want to do it in a funny manner or rather in a cute style… or maybe they even wake her up in a mean kind of way (*cough, cough* clavis) 😂 yeah it’s up to you.

It would be cool if you could write for clavis and leon. For me those two are enough 😁

Cheers! Love your blog btw. 😊

Clavis, Leon, & Yves Waking a Sleepy Reader

So sorry this took ages @rosestowrite. Guess you could say I've been sleeping on this one, hehe... I added Yves because of that Garfield gif, but it ended up being a bit of a tirade.

Clavis Lelouch

Two to the right… three left… once more right… Click!

Clavis pocketed his lockpick and silently strode into the room, closing the door behind him with the faintest snap. He followed the dim pattern of morning sun seeping through the curtains toward the bed to find the blanket slowly rising and falling in rhythm. Smiling softly, he tiptoed to your desk, laid the small stack of papers he brought with him, and sat down to work.

He couldn’t quite remember when this little routine of yours began, though it had been long enough to the point where you’d ceased boring your unamused gaze into him upon waking. Every irate gawk was warranted, he believed, as the first ones he received were as a result of some cleverly convoluted contraption he used to rouse you from your slumber. There was the time he climbed in through the windows bearing a bouquet of the freshly bloomed corpse flowers he’d been cultivating for months — you awoke with a scrunched up face and the atrocious smell lingered in your room for days. And the time he released a swarm of newly-hatched chicks on your bed — they adorably pecked at your eyelids until they shot open. And who could forget the Amazing Ambush of August — yours was an expression he would relish for the rest of his life.

Of course, this was all due to the fact that you were naturally a stubborn sleeper. Such a tricky customer demanded only the most eccentric of wakeup calls. But as the months went on, Clavis found it harder to come up with exciting new ways to get you up (the same trick never worked on you twice, it seemed). He remained determined and pushed through these creativity blocks, he was the only person to survive the Brutal Beast in the morning, after all. There were some days his conviction faltered and he seriously considered reusing his methods for waking Chevalier on you, though he’d always push those thoughts and his sword aside. He would never lay a finger on you.

Eventually his exhaustion overtook him, and one day he simply sat by your desk at the cusp of dawn, tinkering with some parts for a new trap he was developing, watching the sun climb over the horizon and waited. To his surprise, it didn’t take you nearly as long to wake on your own as he’d expected; several hours before Chevalier normally would, in fact. You merely stared at him, that skeptical look fighting your snoozy countenance as he greeted you, tricky gadget in hand, and from then on the over-the-top wakeup calls ceased.

He knew he could always pop in just before you normally woke, but he found himself unfathomably drawn to your room in the early mornings. Perhaps it was the way your windows faced the rising sun, with desk perched at the perfect angle so that the light never stung his eyes as he reviewed documents. Or it could be the soft colors of the walls that gleamed almost ethereally as the rays hit them, turning the tiny room into a private enchanted chamber for a precious few hours. Or maybe it was the fact that he could simply turn his head and find you resting peacefully under his care that brought him peace in these precious moments before the hustle and bustle of the workday.

The bed stirred, and Clavis watched with rapt attention as you groggily sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. He could always acquire a key to your room, but like he savored cataloging hundreds of your waking expressions, he felt the honor of getting to be the first thing you saw in the morning must be earned.

Leon Dompteur

The door barely managed to hold onto its hinges as it burst open, Leon Dompteur proudly prancing through it in its wake. 

“Who’s ready for the most epic hike of the season?” he bellowed to the cavernous room, carrying two immense loaded backpacks in his hands. When no one responded, he lowered his arms and squinted through the dark to find your form still entombed in blankets.

“Hey!” he called, striding up to your side. “You’re still in bed? The Sun’ll be up soon!” He dropped the bags to the floor with two loud thumps! and clutched the end of the mattress, shaking as hard as he could manage without making you fly off the bed. Aside from a wheezy snore, you made no indication you’d heard the prince or felt his mini quake. 

“Come on,” he pleaded, now moving to lightly shake your shoulder. If you were any of his brothers, he wouldn’t have bothered with the courtesy and chucked him straight to the floor. But even though you were bold enough to suggest an early-morning hike with him up the mountain in the dead of winter to watch the sunrise, he still had his dignity as a prince to maintain. 

Well, that was only partly the reason. He’d also bore witness to you falling victim to one of Clavis’s more… bonkers wakeup calls last August. You had chased him halfway through town before Leon caught up and held you back. He had never seen a more determinedly savage look on anyone before, and he grew up watching Clavis prank Yves multiple times a week.

Safe to say, Leon wasn’t too keen on getting too close to you while you were unconscious, so he applied every unobtrusive method he could think of to break your slumber.

But he had tried everything; whistling birdsong to match the morning doves, tickling your nose with a feather quill, cracking his knuckles right beside your ear. Nothing worked! You were really knocked out this time, but drastic times called for drastic measures. You did authorize the use of force if it came to it, after all…

Leon unclasped his sword from his belt and, still sheathed, brought the tip to your side, making sure he stood far out of your armsreach. Applying the slightest bit of pressure, he ran the end up your spine in undulating movements.

“Look out! A rat’s crawled into your sheets!” he called, failing to hide the amusement in his voice. Not that you would have noticed, the way you rocketed out of the bed and sprinted toward the door. Clavis may be on to something, your morning reactions were really fun.

“Great, you’re up! Come on, we’d better get a move on if we’re gonna make it before sunrise,” Leon said, tossing a pair of jogging pants and a sweater to your scowling face.

Yves Kloss

Sweat pooled along his brow, and Yves elegantly wiped it off with a flick of his handkerchief before knocking on your door, a silver tray perfectly balanced in his other hand. He waited exactly sixty seconds before knocking again and, allowing another sixty-second intermission, resolved to opening the door himself. 

Sunlight dully filed in from the open curtain, illuminating the stacks of books and bottles of ink haphazardly piled atop your work desk. Yves carefully shifted the lot aside enough to set his tray down and scan his surroundings. As he feared, the room was in no better condition. More books littered the floors, many of which still open with pieces of parchment covered in your handwriting stuffed inside, bags and shoes piled in every corner, and there didn’t seem to be a single piece of furniture that didn’t have some article of clothing haphazardly hanging off it. 

“Honestly,” Yves muttered, plucking a satin dress from an armchair. His scowl quickly melted away as he studied the dress more intently, memories of the ball you two attended the prior week flooding his mind, and he let out a sigh. 

He truly admired the persistence and dedication you put into your work, it made him puff up with pride to reminisce the day you’d proclaimed you wanted to replicate his work ethic, but there was a fine line between effort and exertion. How very fortunate you were to have such an understanding and considerate prince by your side to reel you back whenever you overdid it, he thought. He had just hung the dress back in your closet when he heard a stirring from the bed.

“Oh, good morning!” he said brightly as he retrieved the tray. “That didn’t take too long, and what luck, because I’ve brought breakfast. Tea today is a fruity blackberry blend, it should be finished steeping now, and I’ve just taken this souffle out from the oven, so it should still be perfectly —”

But he cut himself short when he saw you still snoozing. Pink-faced and hurt, he slammed the tray back onto the desk, a splash of tea jumping out from the pot and onto his finger.

“Ouch!” he cried, but quickly covered his mouth. You made no sudden movements, and Yves lowered his hand. It was an odd feeling, he wanted so badly for you to wake up and enjoy breakfast with him, but at the same time he wanted you to rest after all your work. It was like his body was conflicted between the two and couldn’t settle on what he truly desired. 

Yves solemnly sucked on his finger and approached the bed again. You looked like you were having a very peaceful dream, a quaint smile draped across your lips, and once again Yves felt the contradictory sensation of letting you continue or asking you to share what made you smile so. He sincerely hoped you were dreaming of him.

Ridiculous. What did it matter what you were dreaming about? Or who? Nope, nope, nope! He wouldn’t dwell on that. He turned away to look at the tray again and an idea popped into his mind.

Right, he’ll just wake you up before the breakfast gets cold. Then while you two were eating, he could casually slip the question. Easy as pie! 

Easier said than done. He didn’t have the nerve to rustle you when you looked so tranquil. And if him yelping in pain wasn’t enough to wake you, what would?

You are a prince, whispered a voice in his head. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Jin’s. And how do princes wake sleeping maidens?

Suddenly Yves’s legs felt as though they were made of souffle. How absurd. Ludicrous. Preposterous. As if he could do that.

He looked at your sleeping form once more and thought, for just a moment, how lovely it would be to have those smiling lips directed at him when you awoke. He couldn’t feel the pain in his finger anymore, because the overwhelming sensation of his hands growing clammy overpowered it. No! That wouldn’t be right, you weren’t conscious.

Although, you did once say that it would be nice if he was more open with his affections. Spontaneous was the word you used. 

The room became stifling as an oven. Yves stood at your bedside, perspiration building again in his brow, his hands… his everywhere. He hovered only a foot away from you, a bead of sweat trickling down his nose and dropping to the floor. Was this how Jin felt when sneaking up on a woman? No, Yves wasn’t sneaking, that sounded like he was doing something shameful. But then why did it feel like his mouth was the only dry place left on his body?

He leaned forward but halted as soon as he felt your tiny breaths on his face. His knees wobbled immensely, threatening to give out any moment. Tipsy and excited at the same time, he held his breath. It was now or never. He closed his eyes and took a step closer —

Bonk! A tiny pool of sweat gathered at his feet, enough to make him slip, and Yves’s forehead slammed hard against yours. He jerked back just as you let out a squeal, and the two of you rubbed your temples furiously before staring at each other. Deep pink blushes sprouted on your cheeks in unison.

“Wh— who were you dreaming about?” stammered Yves, and he wished more than all the desserts in the world that the head bonk would have just knocked him out.

Leon's bit is based off an episode with my roommates ^^;

Tagging:@atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message

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

Hi there I hope not to bother I wanted to request something like that, how Leon, Luke, Chevalier, Clavis, hope they are not too much, would react with a MC that know and use more than one language, easily sliding from one to the other, Please take your time and take care Have a wonderful day :D

A/N: Here you are lovely Julie 💜

Word Count: 1361

Leon

You’ve snuck into town to enjoy a day away from the scrutiny of the palace. Now you and Leon stroll through the town hand-in-hand under a cloudy sky, the hoods of your cloaks obscuring your faces. He’s talking, his voice bright with laughter as he recalls a story from one of his first times sneaking out. You adjust your grip on his hand, grinning back at him as you round a corner and then you both stop, surprised by the brightly colored poster plastered on the side of the flower shop. A traveling circus judging by the illustrations but the words on the poster are not the language of Rhodolite.

Leon pauses, his handsome face drawn in a frown as he rubs his chin with his free hand. “I wonder what-”

You begin reading the words out loud, the sentences flowing effortlessly from your lips. None of the odd vowels trip you up because you fell in love with the musical sound of this language when you were small and decided determinedly you would decipher its secrets. You devoured music and books until you could speak it as well as your own native tongue. 

And now Leon stares, his eyes the sunshine the sky is missing as he listens to you. You pause, then begin translating what you just read. When you’re finished, there is silence and you pull your gaze away from the bright poster to look at him and what you see makes your heart stumble: wonder and respect twined together in expression of absolute love. He laughs softly, a short huff of air and slight shake of the head, before leaning down.

“God, I love you,” he whispers roughly before winding an arm around your waist and kissing you with a tenderness born of his admiration for you.

Luke

You find him in the palace kitchen after hours, when the shadows of dusk are creeping into corners and the light through the windows has faded from warm yellow to pale lavender-blue. Luke is sitting at a wooden table in the corner by the still-warm stove, flipping through a recipe book with an expression of dismay.

Pilfering a vanilla cookie from the ceramic jar on the counter, you slide into the chair next to him. You snap the crunchy treat in half, offering him one and he sighs, taking it and biting despondently.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cook was gifted this recipe book from a merchant travelling from Iolite, but no one here can read it. And look.” He points with a long finger at the pictures on the pages he’s been mooning over: They are clearly from some kind of honey cake recipe but all the text is written in Iolitian. 

You glance at him, then back to the book and then begin reading. “Hmm….you need brown sugar, cold, unsalted butter, and….hmm…vanilla bean paste and–” 

“You can read this?!” He cuts you off, his moss green eyes wide with surprise. You nod, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “I taught myself Iolitian when the bookstore was having a slow day. I never thought it might come in handy but-”

You’re cut off again but this time it’s because you are being wrapped in the biggest, warmest bear hug you've ever experienced. Your smile softens as you hug him back. It takes so little to make him so happy….and you’re grateful you have the chance to see the bright light of joy illuminate those soft springtime eyes. 

“So what do you say? Up for a little evening baking?”

Chevalier

You scan the library shelves, your fingers walking their way lightly along the leather-embossed spines of the books, wandering over the soft ridges, hoping to find the one that just screams “Read me tonight!” So engrossed are you in all the titles that you miss when the door opens and Chevalier enters.

He already has a book in his hand which he returns to exactly the right spot on the shelf. You feel the way he is ignoring you, the force of his disregard for you rolling through the room like waves in an ocean. You grit your teeth and ignore him right back, dropping down to read the titles of the books further down the bookshelf. 

Blue eyes, annoyed by your sudden movement, narrow and he turns his head. He watches the way you are intently reading the titles and one royal brow lifts. “Those are all foreign language books. I doubt you have need of them.”

Oh, his tone does things to you. The words roll across your skin, catching like little burrs. You reach for the first book in front of you, an epic poem written in the native language of Benitoite. Pointedly you rise, march over to a nearby table and sit, opening the book. Perhaps a tad dramatically.

He turns and then addresses you in perfect Benitoitian. Clearly he believes you've just grabbed any book at random and are pretending to read it in order to prove him wrong. But he knows nothing of your education. And of your passion for language. You straighten your spine, turn, and answer him in the same language. Your accent flawless, your pronunciation perfect. 

And you are rewarded by something as rare as the moon eclipsing the sun: surprise flashes for a moment in the depths of Chevalier’s sky-colored eyes. And suddenly your heart begins beating harder. And you want to see it again. So you switch, asking him "Would you prefer to speak in this tongue?" this time in the native tongue of Obsidian. And you ask him the same question again in Iolitian. And Tanzanitian. And Tourmaline.

You could go on but he raises his hand, stopping you. His gaze holds yours and now your heart is practically thundering in your chest because what you see those blue depths now isn’t surprise….but interest.

Clavis

A hand settles on your shoulder and a handsome, curious face is suddenly next to yours. “What has captured your attention so thoroughly when I am in the room?” You laugh, reaching up with one hand to affectionately cup his cheek. “I’m reading about the linguistic history of this area.” You point at the page you are on which has a list of all the different languages historically spoken throughout the kingdom as well as its neighbors and examples of how to say “hello” in all of them. He begins reading them out loud and finds himself stumbling when he gets to the language spoken in many parts of Obsidian.

You helpfully correct him and he blinks, brows raised in surprise as he stares at you. “Wait….you speak Obsidian?”

Nodding, you see delight suddenly sparking within the depths of his golden eyes. “Can you say…..’Clavis is amazing’.” Now you laugh, and repeat it back to him in Obsidian. His grin grows as he reaches for both your hands, pulling you up and away from your desk.

“And now can you say…..’Clavis is the most wonderful man in the entire kingdom’?” Your fingers interlock with his as you look up into the face you love so much and repeat it back to him, slowly, speaking ever so slightly below your normal register. A faint pink colors his cheeks as he listens to your voice, the one he is so familiar with, the one he dreams about, suddenly producing new sounds, sounds that twist and turn in ways he doesn’t know, can’t expect. His heart begins a heavier, excited beat in his chest.

“Can you…..” He gently pulls your locked hands closer, escaping your grip in order to slide his arms around your waist and pressing you close to him. “Say…..’Clavis….’ His head dips, his forehead touching yours, eyes glowing like golden stars. “....’I love you….’?” 

Your heartbeat echoes his, drumming loudly in your ears. Your gazes lock and you feel a cascade of sparks tumble down your spine, igniting something warm and exciting inside. When you speak, it’s in a soft, almost breathless voice. “Ich liebe dich, Clavis Lelouch. Ich brauche dich. Ich will dich…..”

His kiss stops the flow of Obsidian and as he lifts you into his arms, striding towards your bed, you understand that while spoken language is important, there are some things that require no words at all.

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

It won't let me write more tags, so I'm writing the continuation here🥲🥲

The simplicity and yet complex flavor of the cookie is prepared for him and him enjoying it with his eye closed is so soft and calming, something special that he returns with a kiss🥺💖 Thank you for writing this Violet😭

(Tumblr please don't limit me🥲🥲)

A/N: A break from all the angst! Here are the winners of the Valentine's Day Kiss Headcanon poll. And a special guest from Obsidian who slipped his way in 😘

Princes x f! reader

I wanted these to be shorter but that was not it's destiny so here we are at 2.5k words.

Happy Valentine's Day whoever reads this! Sending you all lots of love 💜

 Morning: Chevalier

The morning sun has dared to reach tentative fingers through the windows of Chevalier’s bedroom. You feel the warmth caress your face and a sigh, soft as silk, escapes you. The day is calling and you know at some point you’ll have to answer. But there is a strong arm holding you tightly against a warm body, one that is curled around you, heavy with sleep. Carefully you turn under the weight of his embrace, pulling your leg out from under his. A small grunt of annoyance is all your movement elicits. Without opening his eyes, he adjusts his hold on you, pulling you close again.

This close, in the pale light of morning, with him still swimming on the edge of sleep, you have a moment to study the face you hold so dear. The almost boyish fall of his pale hair. The sharp line of his cheekbones. The perfect curve of his lips. His lashes are long, framing eyes that to you have come to be the very definition of the word “blue.” They hold the sky at its brightest and the ocean at its most fierce and flawless sapphires and glacial ice all within their beautiful depths. Your hand rises to gently cup that face, to feel the soft skin of his cheek, the curve of his jaw. Your palm cradles him and your heart grows warm with love and affection and pride that you can call this man yours. “Chevalier,” you murmur. “We should get up.”

His eyes open slowly. In them you can see denial. He does not want to get up yet. He would attack the dawn with his sword if he could. He breathes out, stretching his long legs and buries the face you had been so admiring into your bare shoulder. His mouth is warm against your skin when he finally speaks. “Not yet.”

With a smile you reach down, your fingers finding his chin and tilting his face back up. He allows it because it is you. “We really should.” Not able to help yourself, you lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss. Again, only you would ever be allowed to take him prisoner. His response is slow, each movement languid, savoring the feel of your mouths together, of the way your lips lock and unlock. You are the one who deepens the kiss, shifting yet again in his arms, pushing yourself up. Now you are not laying parallel but rise above him, your hair falling to curtain his face.

He reaches up, gathering your loose hair, winding its softness around his hand, all the while kissing you back with an intensity that screams high noon and not mid-morning. You feel the hold he has on you and gasp, your lips leaving his to curl into a smile. He growls, catching your lower lip between his teeth, not wanting you gone even a moment, holding you in place for a heartbeat before releasing you. “Not. yet.” His repeated words are rough with need, sliding over your skin, mirroring the feel of his palms on your body.

This was not quite how you expected to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day. You had plans for the day…. and yet you give yourself over to the trembling ache of wanting him without a moment's hesitation. Everything else can wait.

Afternoon: Leon

You can only feel when the carriage finally rolls to a stop because your eyes are bound by a strip of dark red silk. It’s been hours, rocking back and forth in darkness. You hear Leon open the door and then feel as he takes your hands in his, his hands calloused and strong. Your fingers curl around them tightly as he carefully leads you down and out of the carriage, your boots touching solid ground. He exchanges a few words with the driver and you hear the rattle of the horses’ harnesses, the departing clip-clop of their hooves, muted as they travel over dirt and not cobblestone.

Holding your hands in his, he pulls you along, laughter threaded through his voice like golden strands. Just a bit further he says as the ground under your feet begins to incline and you find yourself clearly walking uphill. He does not allow you to stumble. You are safe in his guidance. You trust him implicitly.

“Leon….I don’t know if I can go much further.” You’re only half jesting when you say the words, your legs starting to shake from the climb. He stops walking and lets go of your hands. A split second passes and then your feet leave the ground. He’s scooped you up into his arms, carrying you as he continues on. Warmth for him blooms in your heart as you wrap your arms around his neck, trusting him to the ends of the earth and back.

The air around you grows cooler, delivering misty kisses upon your skin. Although you are still going uphill, his pace doesn’t slow until you feel the way his hold on you changes, the ground leveling out. Carefully he sets you down and then moves behind you, his touch never leaving you so that you remain steady on your feet.

“Alright, my love. On three. One. Two. Three.” The silk slides off of your eyes and when you finally open them, your breath catches in your throat. You’re standing at the top of a hill, one stretching itself as tall as possible. From your vantage point, you can see down across the lush green fields that blanket the rolling hillside. They are laid out like a green carpet, all the way down to the town. From this height, the buildings you are so familiar with look like miniatures. Even the palace, gleaming white in the midday sun, looks like a child’s magical toy. As you take it all in, you remember a day almost half a year ago, when you had been visiting Leon in his office, admiring a weathered map that hangs on the wall.

“What’s beyond here?” you had asked, pointing to where the map’s green lines ended, blurring into the faded brown parchment. Leon had looked up and smiled slowly. “Shall I show you someday?” You nodded, smiling that smile that sent his heart spinning. And now, when the snow had melted enough, here you were.

“You remembered.” You turn your gaze away from the view to another stunning sight: Leon beaming, your joy lighting him up from within. He reaches for you and you move into his arms, natural as breathing, like falling into a dream. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, holding you close against him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” His voice is soft with affection, the sweet, low tone one he only ever uses when speaking to you. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against the soft material of his cloak, feeling safe and warm and above everything, loved. 

Evening: Clavis

You’re sitting in the salon, a warm fire blazing in the hearth, throwing soft orange and yellow light across the rich, dark wood and luxurious red velvet of the room. Clavis has disappeared, promising you one last treat. You wonder if your stomach will be able to handle “one last treat”. He’s spent the entire day showering you with little gifts, all of them food. A pancake breakfast with deep green and purple pancakes with some kind of blueish syrup. Lunch was a soup that actually glowed. (He swore it was supposed to do that.) And dinner? You’re not too sure. He claimed it was stew but the meat felt very chewy and the sauce was a bright orange you are certain does not exist in nature. But you ate it. Each meal, every bite. And you thanked him for his effort because you know he did it to make you happy.

But now as you wait for him, hands resting on your abdomen, you find yourself hoping he didn’t make something like the purple “bunny” he had created for your birthday. The one made out of some kind of jelly-like substance that left you smiling through a roiling, queasy stomach for several hours. And had tasted oddly like grass.

The wooden doors open and Clavis enters, holding a silver serving platter, covered by a silver dome. You push yourself upright even as your mind sends silent prayers to whoever may be listening that whatever is under there, it isn’t gelatinous. He kneels in front of where you are sitting on the couch, his eyes two golden pools sparkling with excitement. “Ready, my dear?” You draw a breath, trying to keep your smile steady and positive. “As ever.” He reaches around and removes the silver dome to reveal…

“Clavis….” The word is drawn from your lungs on a gasp. Laying on the silver platter is a small clay heart. It’s a pale lavender but it has a shimmer to it, as if it had been dipped in gold dust. A small hole has been made at the top, run through with a thin strip of soft, black leather. You reach out, taking the necklace in your hand, your heartbeat quickening. When you turn it over, you notice the initials etched into the back. Yours and his, in his signature loopy handwriting. When you look up at him, you see something for the first time today: nervousness shades his smile, uncertainty sparking in the gold of his eyes. “I thought of going to the royal jeweler, but then I remembered you talking about the craftswoman in town who makes these kinds of things and how much you loved her work. With the right persuasion, she helped me make this.” He licks his lips, forcing a smile. “If you’d rather have a gemstone,  we can–”

He is cut off as you throw your arms around him, pressing your lips to his lips. And then his cheek. And then his chin. And other cheek. And forehead. And lips again. Again and again and again you kiss him anywhere you can until the both of you topple over onto the plush carpeting and he breaks out into laughter. “So my darling likes her present.” 

You hug him to you tightly, your eyes closed so they miss the way his cheeks are tinged pink. Your reaction has both thrilled him to no end and surprised him. Sometimes....he can hardly believe that you are his. He returns your embrace, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. His heart beats a rhythm in his chest. I love you, it says. I love you. And yours answers in return: I love you too. I love you too.

Midnight: Gilbert

Valentine’s Day is not a holiday they celebrate in Obsidian. And so you have not mentioned it at all. You went about the day, business as usual. Together you and Gilbert inspected the latest garrison and spoke to its leaders. You met with a group of merchants promising seeds which have been bred to thrive in harsh conditions. You made the rounds of the palace while Gilbert tended to his correspondence. Now, as night falls, you stop by his study to check on him, your hand running over the nape of his neck, comforting and tender. He sends you to bed with a tired kiss to the back of that hand. He has work to do and you, Häschen, cannot help him. He would be happier to know you have gotten rest.

The study door closes behind you and you pause, leaning back against it. You could go to bed as he asked….but you don’t. Because you have an idea. So Gilbert writes, his black feathered quill scratching quietly on parchment, making notes in the margins of letters, and you make your way through the dark stone halls of the palace toward the room at its very heart: the kitchen. Gilbert writes. You work some magic.

It is hours later when Gilbert’s quill finally rests. He stands, stretching out his stiff limbs, one hand rubbing at the corner of his dark red eye. A country teetering on the brink of war requires constant vigilance. A role he understands he must play. But sometimes, wrapped in the secrecy of night’s darkest hour, he wishes he could set it down. The quill, the sword, the weight of Obsidian. And simply be with you.

He is bathed in shadow as he walks toward his bedroom, pushing open the dark, carved double doors. He moves silently, not wanting to wake you, but then he sees the candles still burning and you sitting on the edge of the bed, draped in a dressing gown of pearlescent white satin, holding a plate with something small and dark on it in your hands. He tilts his head, curiosity overcoming exhaustion as he walks over. “What’s this?”

The bed dips as he sits down next to you, his gaze traveling from the plate to your face. You clear your throat. “This….is a small tradition in Rhodolite. It’s Valentine’s Day.” You glance at the small clock on his nightstand, an ornate thing made of silver. “At least for another few minutes. And traditionally, it’s a day to celebrate love with cards and flowers and chocolate.” You shrug your shoulders, feeling suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze. “I didn’t have time to make a nice card and flowers are hard to find here but I knew there was just enough chocolate left from what I brought with me to bake you a cookie.” You had only enough chocolate to make one cookie, a heart-shaped chocolate oatmeal cookie with chopped nuts and raisins inside. Not necessarily what you would enjoy but you knew they were all flavors Gilbert held dear.

He studies the cookie for a moment, silent. You wonder if maybe you’ve made a mistake. Maybe he just wants to go to sleep and not eat anything. Maybe he does not want to hear about a holiday from the country that is threatening his with war. Anxiety swells your heart and at the same time squeezes it with icy chains of uncertainty. This was a bad idea. Why did you even think it would be-

Gilbert lifts the cookie to his lips and takes a bite. His eye closes as he chews and you watch his face, the movement of his jaw. You notice the way his expression softens. There is peace in a face far too used to suspicion, to calculation, to hiding behind smiles and sharp words. There is bliss for a mind that has to think around a thousand corners. A mind that can now, in a moment of respite, simply enjoy the taste of something that you, the woman he loves, has made for him.

He finishes the whole thing with his eye closed. When it is gone, you reach out and take the plate from him, setting it down on the nightstand. When you lean back, he reaches for you. His kiss tastes like chocolate, like the richness of night, like the velvet softness of a love returned.

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

Leon and this prompt: laughing at their messy hair in the morning

He has the perfect hair for this 😉

A/N: Ok no, its not angst but I saw @leonscape feeling so down about there being not a lot of Leon content and I remember when I said the same thing and asked for requests and wrote like, 2 of them 🙈 So I decided to set Silvio aside for a moment and give Leon some love.

For you, Sui 💜

Fluff/ a tiny bit of angst, Leon x f reader

💥Spoiler warning for Leon's route 💥

WC: 941

Sunday mornings are made for lounging in a cozy bed, surrounded by bed sheets that are still warm with the night’s body heat. They are made for flagrantly ignoring the sunlight peeking through the curtains of the arched palace windows and for pretending that if you don’t get up, the day will wait for you. Sunday mornings are for sleepy smiles, warm embraces, softly-spoken words. For gathering the energy you’ll need when facing an austere, humorless Monday.

He’s usually the one who wakes up first. Leon has always been a light sleeper and an early riser, a survival tool built into the very bones of his character, carved there by his nightmare of an early childhood. If you woke first, you weren't kicked awake by a slaver’s heavy boot. Or worse, by the sting of their whip. A light sleeper would hear when another slave, creeping slowly to keep their chains from rattling, was trying to sneak up and steal his treasured items: a small metal coin, a bootstring, a leathery piece of jerky. Waking easily and early is just one more scar courtesy of the sharp claws of his past.

But Sundays….there is something about the safety of a Sunday morning that allows him to sleep, to let leisure and peace sink into his mind and keep him dreaming. You prop yourself up on one elbow to look at him. His golden eyes are closed, fringed by lashes dark as pitch. His mouth, always ready with a smile, is relaxed, more serious in sleep. And then there is his hair…..

It is a jungle of dark locks, a wild cacophony of brown spikes that sits upon his head, reminding you of….you consider a moment….reminding you of a fluffy, self-righteous hedgehog, daring you to just try and tame it. The image makes you laugh out loud and one golden eye slowly opens.

“I know what you’re doing.” His voice is thick with sleep, sandpaper-rough.

“Me?” You press a hand to your heart, eyes wide with feigned innocence, bright with amusement. “I don’t know what you mean, your highness.”

“Hmm.” He stretches his body languidly, the bed sheets sliding off of his bare shoulder. You resist the urge to keep pulling it down since you know for a fact he sleeps without a stitch of clothing. “You….,” he murmurs, stifling a yawn, “are…..” And then he moves with a speed that his sleepy stretching left you unprepared for, rolling until he has you pinned underneath him, caging you in as he supports his weight on his strong forearms. “...a terrible liar, love.”

Laughter, bright as sunshine on water, escapes you. You meet his beautiful gaze with a grin.

"I have no idea what you mean." 

There it is. The radiant chord of connection slowly winding itself around both your hearts, binding you to each other. You feel it in the thrill of his skin against yours. You see it in the twinkling of tenderness in his eyes.

“Fess up. What have you decided my hair looks like this morning?”

Sunday mornings are a time for tradition and you two have fallen into this one completely by accident. Maybe because you have the time to linger in bed or because for once he isn’t up and dressed before you, but somehow Sunday mornings have become a time for you to affectionately laugh at the tornado of bedhead that he never fails to wake up with and tease him for it.

You slide your palms, one right next to the other, over the hard planes of his chest, the feel of the muscle and sinew a delight to the touch. Up over his broad shoulders, your fingers curling over the rounded edges. Eventually you reach his neck where they interlock and you glance up at him.

“Maybe….I thought this morning’s hair….resembles…an indignant hedgehog.”

There is no sound as musical to your ears as when he laughs and you are rewarded with an entire concert. The initial burst of surprised laughter and then he lowers his body, covering you entirely with it as he buries his face in the curve of your neck, his shoulders still shaking with every chuckle. You join him, his amusement contagious as your laughter intertwines with his.

He lifts his head, a wide grin lighting up his handsome face.

“You do know you’re speaking to a Prince of Rhodolite, yes?” His voice wraps itself around you, flows over you like warm water.

You return his grin, one hand brushing the rowdy locks of hair away from his forehead. “Oh dear. I’ve insulted the crown. Whatever will become of me?”

His smile turns wicked, as does the press of his body against yours. In the space of a heartbeat the morning mood has shifted from something warm and soft to something sharp with heated potential. He turns his head, pressing a kiss into the corner of your mouth.

“For the crime of mocking a member of the royal family, I hereby sentence you to a lifetime of kisses, to be delivered by you to the offended prince.”

You would laugh but he’s shifted, his head dropping to leave a soft line of kisses down your neck and your breath has quite rapidly abandoned you.

“A whole lifetime. huh?…..I suppose….” You reach for him, gently urging him to raise his head. “I better get started.”

He leans down and you angle your head to meet in a kiss that glows with the heat of desire and the brightness of affection. 

As you wrap your arms around this man who owns your whole heart, you know else Sunday mornings are for.

Love.

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

Leon, baby animals, 🌷

A/N: Here you go, my favorite world traveler! @bellerose-arcana I hope you like it, whenever you get a chance to read 💜

Leon x Reader

Part of the Spring Showers, Spring Flower CCC hosted by @aquagirl1978 and myself

Word Count: 792

As much as you love your work at the palace as Royal Librarian, a title bestowed upon you by King Chevalier and seconded by all the other princes, when you get the chance to leave it all behind and go back into town, the place you grew up, the place that will always feel like home, you jump at it.

Today’s excursion is visiting a childhood friend’s new home on the outskirts of town. She and her wife bought a derelict farm, and with a lot of love and hard work, breathed life back into it. It sounded so charming in her letter that you had run straight to Leon's office, excitedly telling him how that you hoped to go as soon as possible. That day has finally arrived and the hour-long trip out to the country at it's end. The carriage rolls to a stop on the narrow dirt road and you eagerly squeeze Leon’s hand.

“We’re here!”

He can’t help but grin at your excitement as you jump down from the carriage without needing a helping hand from him or the driver. Holding the large, white wicker basket full of presents you have prepared for your friend, Leon nods a thank you and slips the driver a small pouch of gold coins so he can return to town and enjoy himself while you two are away. He balances the heavy basket in the crook of his arm, careful because he knows how much trouble you went through to procure everything in there: smoked venison from the royal hunting grounds, various sausages and herbs, several jars of Luke’s pick for the best honey of that year as well as jams and jellies from the royal orchards. You and Yves had spent several days baking all kinds of treats which you carefully wrapped in wax paper and tied with colored twine. You even managed to convince the king to part with one edition of a rare book on Benitoite ship masonry because you knew her wife is a fan.

Now, with the sun shining down in greeting, you hold Leon’s free arm as you walk up the pathway to the large white farmhouse. The scene is as picturesque as they come: a white farmhouse nestled into rolling green fields. A pasture with sturdy, slow-moving cows lazily grazing. In the distance a barn with a red roof, an enclosure with a chicken coop and numerous fluffy white hens and one very self-assured rooster strutting his way around the ladies.

You glance at Leon to see him looking around, admiration in his expression and it warms your heart. He may be a royal but he has never once lost his appreciation of the simpler things, hence your many, clandestine strolls through town together, cloaked and hooded as you simply mingled with the townspeople, enjoying the time away from watchful eyes and palace intrigue.

The front door to the farm house swings open and your friend emerges, her smile as wide and friendly as you remember. She waves, calling your name. Suddenly from behind her, a loud commotion, another woman’s voice yelling something incomprehensible as several small, brown, furry bundles of pure energy escape the confines of the house, charging down the wooden steps and outside to FREEDOM and NEW PEOPLE!!!

And they make a beeline not for you, but for the tall human carrying the basket full of such INTERESTING SMELLS!!!!

Your friend covers her mouth in horror, you cover yours in amusement as the mass of puppies charge him, whimpering and barking, tails wagging manically. Their oversized paws like unwieldy door knockers thump against his legs. Some are bold and bark, some seem to be attempting to scale him like a tower.

“Oh, I am so sorry-“ Your friend’s words are cut off as Leon grins, holding out the SMELLS SO GOOD!!! basket which you take from him, before he sinks down onto the grass, his eyes bright with delight as he reaches out, trying to pet all the puppies at once.

“Aren’t you a handsome little fellow?” He turns as another happily jumps, both paws leaving uneven dusty paw prints on his white shirt. “Hello love, what a sweet girl you are!” One heftier, roly-poly puppy wiggles his way under Leon’s arm, determined to get pets and he laughs. “You’re a proper lad now, look at you!” The onslaught of puppy love continues, their enthusiasm growing like a tidal wave of happy whimpering, jumping bodies shaking with excitement. Leon, unable to maintain balance, topples over, surrendering fully, his arms full of soft, brown fur, his cheeks wet with puppy kisses and sniffs.

With a smile and a sigh you turn, offering your friend the basket.

“Congratulations on your beautiful home. This is from us. Me and--” You glance back at Leon whose laughter is audible over the excited puppy sounds coming from the horde that’s swallowed him.

Your smile is tender, shaped by love. “My husband.”

Tagging: @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @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

oh leon who smudged your eyeliner

Hi Scorchie! May I request Leon / 2 / Comfort / 2nd PoV from your grab-bag? 🥺🦁

Characters: Leon Dompteur x F!Reader

POV: 2nd person Genre: Comfort

Prompt #2: “When a flower doesn't bloom you fix the garden, not the flower.”

Wordcount: 928

A/N: Hiya Sui! Thanks for the request! A comforting Leon is just what the doctor ordered after a long day. I hope you'll enjoy this one!

You kicked your boots off and submerged your feet in the crystal-clear depths of the river, letting your breath release out your nose in as close to periodic cycles as your racing mind could manage. The once-still water rippled as your legs shook, and you tried not to focus on the swarms of tiny fish that glided away from where you stood. Instead, you watched the swishing motions of the cattail plants that grew bunched along the riverbank, most of which, you noticed, were your height if not slightly taller. 

“That better?” Leon said, emerging from the low bushes behind you. He reached to pick up your discarded boots and set them neatly on a large, flat stone jutting out above the river. He sat next to them and looked up at the sky.

“Yeah,” you heaved. Leon dwarfed the cattails from where he sat, looking surprisingly similar to a lion surrounded by his prostrating pride. An image that amused you greatly.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, a puzzled yet humored smile spreading across his face as he watched you clutch your stomach and laugh. 

“You… you just look so regal!” you wheezed, the tips of your hair splashing in the river as you bent down. Whatever fish dared attempt to approach you streaked away again instantly. “So regal! Even surrounded by nature. Like it’s second nature.”

You swallowed your last words and focused again on controlling your breath. Your hair fell like a curtain in front of your eyes, shielding Leon’s majestic view. A part of you knew he was staring directly at you. Maybe even through you.

“First nature, second nature, third nature… I don’t think any of that stuff really matters, so long as your heart’s in it,” Leon said. Over the rushing burble of the river you heard him stand, but you didn’t move. It was as though the water had turned your skin to ice.

“Easy for you to say,” you began, a strained sensation arising as you moved your lips. “All the things you put your heart into come so naturally to you. Politics, fighting, protecting, making friends…” your voice trailed off. You weren’t sure why the words sounded so bitter coming from you. Those were the qualities that made Leon the admirable leader he was; the same ones you parrotted every time his name came up in conversation. Yet now, alone in only his company, it was as though your parrot’s beak had finally been set correctly in place. And you didn’t like it.

A new set of ripples erupted beside yours, and you felt a light hand patting your head.

“Not everything,” he said. “I could never get lost in a book like you do.”

“A bookworm doesn’t have the influence of a prince,” you retorted.

“Oh yeah? Explain Chevalier.”

“No one can explain Chevalier.”

“Good point.”

You kept your eyes trained on the water as he laughed above you, his hearty chuckles filling the air. Several fish swam closer, curious.

“But you do know there’s nothing wrong with putting in effort, right? Prince or not, if it’s something you’re passionate about, you have only yourself to impress,” said Leon, his voice suddenly gaunt. You raised your head, curious to see his expression, but the same charming smile still masked his features.

“And with everyone watching?” you asked, unwrapping your arms from your stomach. “Can you really have the luxury of messing up after all that effort is put in on such a grand stage?”

He removed his hand and brought it to his chin in contemplation. “Well, since you’re asking a prince whose every action is monitored on a… what did you call it? ‘Grand stage.’ I’d like to tell you the pressure goes away with time.” He removed his hand and swiped the hair from your face behind your ear in a practiced, heart-stopping motion. “But you’re also asking Leon. And I’m telling you that every single day, I am just as nervous as my first.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said, feeling heat rise in your cheeks, but this time not from bitterness.

“Why not?”

“Because each day, the roses bloom more brilliantly than they did the last. And everyone attributes it to you.”

“Who told you that?” Leon asked, smirking.

“That’s the general consensus across town.”

“There are eight princes, you know.”

“Yes, but only one you.”

“Smooth. You got me right where it hurts!” He feigned getting shot in the heart and dramatically clutched at his chest. You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips.

“But I think you’re wrong. I can see one rose not blooming properly.” He stood up straight again and pointed at you. “And as far as I’m concerned, that's a failure on my part.”

“What’s one little dud when the rest of the garden is thriving?” you said, stepping out of the river. “Just because one measly screw up couldn’t keep up with the rest, it’s not a failure on the gardener’s part.”

“No. When a flower doesn’t bloom you fix the garden, not the flower,” he said.

“Smooth,” you repeated, pulling your boots back on. “From Sonia’s latest romantic thriller novel? And here you just claimed you weren’t a bookworm.”

“Chevalier read that part to me, actually.”

He was still in the river, and it was only at that moment you realized he still had his boots on, his pants submerged halfway up to his knees.

“There are countless try-hards and bookworms and roses out in the world,” he said, “but never forget there’s only one you.”

All the recent Leon content has been really exciting, he's seriously the best bro. Unrelated, but with this fic I am finally finished with my first set of the grab-bag prompts! Thanks to everyone who sent in a request and read the works, it's been an eye-opening experience, I cannot lie.

Tagging:@atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

Of Conflict and Compromise |

Characters: Leon Dompteur, Chevalier Michel

Genre: Angst, Comfort

Summary: Sometimes, the best way to solve a dispute is to have that dispute first. Leon and Chevalier, while excellent leaders, can't always see the other side unless it's shoved right in front of their faces.

Word Count: 2.1k

Prompt: Birds chirping.

A/N: Here's my entry for @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess's Spring Showers, Spring Flowers CCC. Thank you both for setting this up! This was originally a story I'd abandoned months ago, but it's nice to revisit these two, even if they are hard-headed.

Content Warnings: References to death, implied Leon route spoilers.

It wasn’t the headache that woke him before dawn. Nor was it his sagging shoulders or the chill of early spring that crept through the tiniest gaps in the window frame. Tossing and turning in the massive multi-blanketed bed, Leon scarcely got any sleep between memories of the previous night and his own intrusive thoughts, and before he knew it, serenades of the morning’s first birds rid him of any hope to rest. Groggy and sore, he disentangled himself from the contorted covers, splashed his face in the wash basin, slipped into yesterday’s outfit, and left his bedroom.

Other than the outside chirps that accompanied him, Leon met no living soul on his descent. He drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword when he reached the base of the steps, wondering how best to kill time until the kingdom awoke. He considered heading to the training grounds for some drills, but as far as Leon was concerned, working out wasn’t as fulfilling when you didn’t have a second. He could pop into the kitchen for an early breakfast, but immediately shut the idea down. It was never worth filling yourself when an Yves menu was slated for lunch. 

Flocks of birds coupled their songs into duets and choruses almost in mockery of Leon’s solitude, and he stalked deeper into the castle to distance himself from them. As the squawks and cheeps faded behind him, he reluctantly resigned to leave early to town for his mission, when new sounds caught his attention. Scratchy-scrawly and flippy-wispy ones. Down the corridor to his right, in the direction of the foreign affairs faction headquarters.

Leon’s first thought was that Clavis was hacking away at some new contraption, undoubtedly for the purpose of some nefarious wakeup call. Concerned for the palace-goers, and marginally curious himself, he silently trekked toward the office, stopping just before the ornate white door. The sounds persisted, uniform and deliberate in their execution, and Leon pressed his ear to the wood in an attempt to decipher their purpose, only to flinch when the perpetrator sharply called from within.

“Enter, Black.”

Leon mentally kicked himself for not recognizing the uninterrupted pattern of quill on paper and pushed open the door. Chevalier did not welcome his brother as he entered, but sat head hung low over his desk, his only movements the lightning-fast scratching of his right hand and the occasional swapping of parchment with his left from two mountains of sheets flanking either side of him.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Leon awkwardly asked Chevalier’s scalp. Accepting the expected silent response, he took in the rare sight of Chevalier working at dawn, the morning rays spilling in from the high windows surrounding him doing little to bring life to his pallid features. The office itself was colorless, pristine, and smelled almost medicinal in its tidiness. Leon hated the smell and the memories it brought up and always avoided the room whenever he could. He crossed to one of the windows, and, after a bit of effort, wrenched it open, gulping in the fresh air like a stream.

“Shut it,” said Chevalier.

“It’s too stuffy in here. Plus, you could use some sun,” Leon said absently, staring out at the blueing sky. A robin soared toward him and perched itself on the windowsill. It chirped and hopped back and forth in the same spot, as though debating whether it should enter. Leon dug into his pants pocket and produced a handful of crushed crackers, which at this point was more crumb than cracker. Grimacing at the resurfacing memory, he spilled the lot in front of the bird and watched it eat.

“I only allow one interloper at a time,” said Chevalier. “And only if they clean up after themselves.”

Leon stuck his arms out and patted his hands free of the crumbs. Then he drew the window down, leaving a tiny sliver the bird could not fit into.

“How’s that?” he asked. In that moment, a strong gust blew outside and through the crack, blasting both the cracker crumbs and the documents on the desk in all directions. Paper and bread swirled around the room before gently floating down as the wind died, and in between the flurry Leon could make out the bird tapping its beak impatiently on the glass and Chevalier slowly rising from his seat. 

The two princes picked up the fallen documents, Leon careful to separate them into piles of “signed” and “unsigned”, without exchanging any words. It was only after Chevalier reseated himself and resumed his work that Leon felt the urge to break the tension.

“Compromises never do work between us, do they?”

“You can’t propose compromise in someone else’s office, you dolt,” said Chevalier.

“Oh yeah? And who’s the dolt who let me in in the first place?”

“Only because it was more distracting not knowing what you were doing behind a door.”

“Hey, my hands are metaphorically clean!” Leon slinked back to the window and brushed residue crumbs through the tiny opening. The bird gave a shrill screech and resumed eating. Chevalier winced, and it was then that Leon noticed the sizable dark circles sagging beneath his eyes.

“Birds kept you up then, huh?” said Leon.

“Must they be so boisterous in the morning?” said Chevalier.

“Come on, Chevalier, they’re birds! Morningsong is in their nature! Are you really going to punish a bird’s natural impulse to want to—”

“I know why they are singing,” interrupted Chevalier.

“I was going to say they’re welcoming in the spring season. Why do you think they’re singing?”

Chevalier grabbed another document and violently slammed it on the desk. 

“Whoa, you must be really tired if you’re this cranky just talking to me,” said Leon.

“And you must be really lonely if you’ve come to me to sing to,” said Chevalier.

Leon frowned and stared out the window. The bird ruffled its feathers in the slight breeze, and Leon wished he could trade places with it.

“I can leave whenever I want,” said Leon.

“And yet, you are glued to my window,” said Chevalier.

“It’s bad manners to leave the table before the guest finishes his meal. Of course, that’s something you never cared for.”

“Useless drivel of dullards. Like dancing and socializing and—”

“Sleeping on time?”

“Sleeping with negligence.”

Images flashed in Leon’s mind. Moles positioned at windows and balconies. Spies leaping between bedroom shadows. Assassins blending in with the night. 

“Clavis will throw a fit when he finds you’re not in your room,” said Leon.

“He will find another victim to sing to,” said Chevalier.

“We’re really stretching the definition of ‘sing’ today, aren’t we?”

“None of which the showoff will be too fond of.”

“His name is Yves.”

“Does that change the fact that he is vulnerable?”

“It changes whether you care about it.”

Chevalier straightened his back and stretched his arms. For a moment, Leon thought he might actually go to warn Yves, until Chevalier pulled out a book from a desk drawer and began to read like their conversation never happened.

“You know what will happen, but you won’t do anything to stop it?” asked Leon.

“I have identified the assailant and victim,” said Chevalier. “Whether you define this as caring or not has no weight on my decision to involve myself further.”

Leon’s fingers clenched on the windowsill like jaws. “You’re a coward, Chevalier. A shameless, plain, unapologetic coward for all the world to see.” The wood splintered beneath his thumbs, making the bird jump and resume its peevish chirping.

“I keep my closet free of skeletons,” Chevalier said calmly.

“Yes, because you’re so much better at digging graves.”

“I can bury them without hiding the shovel.” Chevalier snapped the book shut and stomped over to Leon. The bird silenced immediately and flew away. “Running away? That is the true definition of cowardice.”

Leon’s eyes focused on the bird’s escape, desperate bitterness building in his chest. “What are you implying?”

“I know your secret, fourth prince,” whispered Chevalier. Like a flame, Leon’s anger snuffed out. A prickly stiffness replaced the tautness in his arms, and his blood curdled like ice. Through the glass he could see Chevalier’s frigid expression trained directly on him, trapping him. Like a bird in a cage.

Leon licked his dried lips and cleared his throat. “Which one?” he said jokingly.

Chevalier lifted his eyebrow but maintained his composure. “You couldn’t save him,” he said, pointing at the scattered cracker remains that lined the now-cracked windowsill. Leon shut his eyes and exhaled deeply through his nose. If he had the choice, he’d prefer that Chevalier found out about this secret.

“Were you at the tavern last night?” he asked.

“I had my eyes there for a while,” said Chevalier. “What did you do with the body?”

“Took him home. His family should decide what to do with him.” Leon turned around and leaned against the window, his eyes still closed. “It was his wife who told me. Said he’d fallen in with a bad gang recently and owed a lot of money. He spent all his time working and stopped coming home for lunch and dinner. When he wasn’t working, he was at the tavern with those goons running him dry, like he couldn’t leave. You know she’d find him dangling off a table in the morning with a mug in hand? If I could just — if I could just get something in his stomach…”

“It is ridiculous to blame yourself for his end,” interrupted Chevalier. 

“He needed someone. A friend to pull him out and help him and his family.”

“What he needed was someone to stop that gang. A prince to eliminate threats to and deliver justice.”

“If I went after the gang,” Leon said, opening his eyes and scowling, “who would go after him?”

“Your duty is to the greater good of the kingdom. You cannot hope to save everyone every time,” said Chevalier. “And this time, you failed everyone.”

“Just because you’ve given up doesn’t mean I have,” growled Leon. He pushed off from the window and marched towards the door.

“Where are you going?” asked Chevalier, his voice condescending. 

“First, I’m going to Yves’s room before Clavis does. You know, something a good brother would do.” He tossed a mocking glare over his shoulder. “Then I’m heading into town to check on the family. Something a good prince would do. I’d offer for you to join, but of course I can’t propose compromise in someone else’s office.”

Leon grabbed the gilded knob, fully prepared to rip the door off his hinges, when Chevalier let out an all-to-familiar sigh.

“Of course you can’t, you imbecile. No one but myself calls the shots in my office, and I have already decided my course of action.” Chevalier was at his desk again, digging through the pile of signed documents. He pulled out a thick sheaf and offered it. “As soon as Clavis is finished playing, we shall depart.”

Curiosity won Leon over again and he found himself returning to Chevalier’s side. The stack of papers was hefty, and the ink so pungent Leon deduced it could barely have been hours since it was written. He scanned the first page of what appeared to be a warrant for the arrest and prosecution of the gang. Flipping through the rest showed detailed records of their involvement in criminal activity across various locations in both Rhodolite and Benitoite, listing dozens of names of victims and their families. Leon ran his splintered fingers over the man and his family’s names at the bottom of the last page, careful not to smear the letters, and finally over Chevalier’s elegant signature just below.

“All these names,” began Leon, “what took you so long to act?”

“They never stay long once a client ‘ceases to be profitable,’” Chevalier explained grimly. “They take whatever remains on the person and disappear until their next crime. That is, except this time someone moved the body.”

The flame reignited in Leon’s core like an inferno. He grabbed the quill off the desk and hurriedly scribbled his name beside Chevalier’s. “I’ll kick Clavis out and meet you in town in twenty minutes,” he said, charging back to the door. “Breakfast is on me!”

“Don’t break my door, I have not forgotten about the window,” called Chevalier as Leon bolted out with a thumbs up. Chevalier straightened the sheets, picked up his book, and followed Leon out the door, albeit at a much more relaxed pace. Behind him, the robin had returned to the crooked windowsill with a friend, and the two happily sang and munched on the crumbs as the sky brightened over the new day.

I say this all the time about Leon, but he needs to hang out with his bros more.

Tagging:@atelier-the-atelier @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

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 😭

cel-shading is not my passion. i got super lazy at the end, i'm sorry Leon :')