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[sukeystrash]

!!!! <3

ok, so hi. i am here today bc after watching the new vid cybirb posted on yt (and fainted bc of it too) i have realized emma did not get a new outfit and i am here to give you my quick sketch bc, honestly, i think she deserves at least this much after everything in act 1 and 2.

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yeah

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Distinguished gentleman

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hi

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it’s that one game!!!!!!

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She’s doing sm for her kingdom…

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umm????? your writing style??? marry me this instant !!!

Touch;

Characters: leon dompteur, chevalier michel

Tags: prose

Notes: bit of a writing block but trying to push thru

Leon

The sobriety of a glass of water in the morning. The reinvigorating breath of his cologne and the touch of a thumb against your cheek. Enamored and in love he seems, be it that he is close enough so that moss may grow in between your two bodies, or far away enough that the world has cut itself in half. You find him on your shoulder, where his palm rests with integrity, prowess; where proudness is found in the middle of your collarbone.

You caught it there as well— his touch. Presses the tips of his fingers into your sternum, hoping that he finds his Judas under the shell of the bone. Around your ribs, where he cuts invisible altercations of your skin; where his nails take a bite out of just to squeeze you so.

And then, his favorite place, the reason your heart has conscious, the back of your head. Both palms settle like godhood around your ears, want to cup in the lines of his hands the ringing of your mind. He wants to put his voice inside of you, the only one that gives you reason in the time of ever forever hardships. The religious choir of a church. The purr of contentment. The home of a human being, he wants you to be dearly.

Chevalier

The embodiment of an empire. The cold gaze of a never resting entity just above the horizon— the infinite of never seen, the limitation of an universe. And this man, out of all of everybody, decides to scald you in his touch and never anybody else. And where does he touch? Upon your neck he bestows his mouth, secrets of another world whispered into every kiss he leaves. On your hand descends as well, his gloves caressing the fine skin of your knuckles like one does the dust off a treasure.

Your equal creates the enormity of desire every time the coldness of Neptune that is his eyes gaze at you right next to him. He carves the warmth in your cheeks like its made of marble, letting your heat melt the glaciers around his heart.

It is subtle— Chevalier never does too much. But enough to madden your existence all the same. He is the lover behind you, chuckling like the temptation of all pomegranates of the world, the shield in front of you, always sure of your safety with his hand behind him, yours to grab for comfort. And then, he is at your side, ready to have blood on his hands, ready to clean all the blood up. He is ready to bleed at your command, shed it all out of anybody that dares upon you.

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HOLY SHIT YOU MUSTY MAN LEAVE MY QUEEN ALONE

That act 2 prologue tho…

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Leo would love to share some hot chocolate with you on a chilly winter’s night.

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THE DETAILS

THE POSE

THE GRACE

MUMMUMUMUMUMUMUMUMUMUUM

It’s an Emma :)

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Attracting your Attention;

Characters: Leon Dompteur, Chevalier Michel

Tags: general fluff

Notes: too long to be headcanons, too short to make one shots out of them. Both are around 600 words

Leon:

It starts when a craving deep inside his stomach takes root. The world would seem far more lonelier, the rarity of words shared and silence he would get before you came along into his life. The throne is cold beneath him, and his fingers tap so softly against the surface his hand lays upon that he’s afraid he’d bother the dormant soul of another king before him. Emptiness behind the tremble of realiosation of his lashes, the cold breath coming from between his lips alone; his lungs no longer apart of your own, both your ribs a birdcage filled with singing birds no more.

And so, he raises his head, searches for the source of your soul. You sit not far from him, he thinks, a queen at his left and first gazes over the form of your cheeks as your eye catches word after word of the book in between your little gentle hands. It’d be a play for him, take the pages of your book away, make you deter that fleeting pretty butterfly gaze to his one. The son of the golden sun he might be, wants to feel the shine of his eye blind you as you smile at him, warming his cheeks. And wants your thumb beneath his eyelid, brushing into his skin the soft blush only you have the right to put there.

“Hey…” he calls you, like a darling. His brushes his small finger onto your side of the throne, and fills his throat with love when he catches the softest wrinkle of happiness at your eye. You don’t stop reading, though.

“Hello.”

Leon, infatuated prince charming that he is, throws one leg over his other and leans forward into his arm rest, to catch what must be so interesting inked across those pages that dare immerse you away from his attention.

“What are you reading?” he firstly whispers, before a smile breaks his facade. It is broken by his greed as well, as his one hand is busy enough to come and circle your arm, thumb rubbing into the skin like it’s the gentle thorn of a rose. Careful enough not to prickle himself, and gentle enough to love it’s sharp caress.

You look at him then, amusement written into your downturned smile. Gaze filters into his own while your lashes tremble closed, before they open to watch the sun rise right into Leon’s eyes. Speks of molten gold and orange pulp colors admire you, taste your lashes with a breath’s kiss.

“Something.”

“Something?” his eyebrow twitches up, and your book is now left uninteresting in your lap.” You’d never understand.”

Leon licks his teeth beneath his lips and leans more into you, his shoulder coming into contact with your own, where the two worlds collide to create one single earth.”really, now?” within his body, the freedom of love rests at his heart, where it calls to your blood. To soothe and warm it up, let it fill him to the brim, where no glass of wine can reciprocate.

“It’s benitoitian.” you huff, connecting your temple with his own in a single kiss. And Leon puffs out a surprised laugh at your answer, clearly not expecting that. Kind and soothing, a lion’s rumble against his lionesses’ head.

But he bestows it one press of his lips, his one hand carefully rubbing the color of your vein from your skin, now finding purchase, soft freedom when his fingers intertwine with yours. Leon has won, the king having everything he has ever wished for when you gift him a kiss to the edge of his jaw as yet one more surprise for his majestic laughter to ring about.

Chevalier:

Greed rests at the base of his throat. Metal blue has bore of the white high ceiling they are left to look at, the bed painstakingly empty when his body is the only one left to warm it. Coldness at his fingertips, unfortunately, the tiger is not capable of leaving behind such an imprint even in his resting place.

But then, his eyes find the back of your head. Across his room, you sit on his couch, back turned to him. One of your arms lies listlessly on the backrest, the nape of your neck a tease to the blur of oceans in his eyes. But he says nothing still, his tongue laying heavy as the sudden urge to mark that part of your body as his own overwhelms the weight of his organ inside his mouth. Sudden need of your eyes on his face is a must. It swells his heart, a great breath he takes rising his chest.

Chevalier doesn’t know what you might be doing. As your softest hums give him no indication, as the delicate tilt of your head leaves him wondering. Suddenly, he wants to be inside your mind, read what you are doing through your own eyes. He wants himself reflected into them, where the world is finally put into place, where he no longer has to drown in his own monstrous sea.

Until now, Chevalier has never wanted to be dead. He grieved no dead he came across— but with you now, he suddenly wishes he was.

Dead by your hand, death in the heel of your palm. Death is where his sword rests in your hand, the tip of that polished, sharpened, perfect metal right at his heart, where he wants you engrained inside himself deep down, where even His Highness has never reached. And Chevalier does not understand it, why. Why he’d be happy when your fragile hands hold the pump of his heart, why the smile of your eyes would set his oceans ablaze, fuming, ending them all with the touch of your eye across the scars left invisible into his skin.

By the end of his thoughts, he is on his feet. He no longer bothers to acknowledge the coldness of his floor, nor the softness of the length carpet that ornates his room. Before his senses can perceive his doings, his hands come into unforgettable contact with your shoulders.

Soothing glaciers across the tension in your muscles, he revels, closes his eyes and breathes in as you relax and melt under your lover’s coldness. Chevalier adores you, your very existence then; feels like he can breathe inside of you, share your lungs for a second and fill himself with the roses of your imagination. With the words you think about, with the color of your eyes. This thought should be mortifying, exchanging your body with your lover— and yet here he is, wishing to not only breathe the same air as you, but use the same lungs for it.

“Chev..” you sing his name like the angels in his head. Your warm, oh such warmth in the palm of your hand, comes to touch his fingers across one of your shoulders, gliding the tips over his knuckles.” What’s wrong?”

At your question, he leans forward just a bit, enough to see over the top of your head. He finds a book open across your lap, annotations and commentaries written in different colors over every quote you have found important. And then a notebook in your other hand, where words were strewn quickly in indescifrable cursive.

It brings warmth inside of him, it makes the torments of his insides calm down. Silences the oppressive words his mind throws at him for what he is to this world he was brought into.

“Nothing.” the tiger purrs, incalescence enveloping him as your hum reaches his ears. He can’t help but squeeze your shoulders just a bit, and he feels your eyes settle on his neck, where one of your wet kisses finds abode. A surprise even to Chevalier, but he only hums with a growing, sincere smile on his face. Although, it would be a lie to say it felt natural on his face. But that same kiss caressed the thought away, dissolved it into the warmth that takes over the oceans in his eyes.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“If it truly is nothing then…” you let the words loose, their essence pressed like dry flowers in between sheets of paper against his skin. “Give me a kiss as well?”

“…What an absurd request.” the prince huffs, his nobility erased the second his gaze finds yours. All of the regality that could be found inside his veins dissipating when the beauty of this commoner swayed the very mind he has built to secure him.

“For someone as intelligent as you, I didn’t expect such foolish questions.” your laughter, his very rose petal. It smudges the corner of his cheek when he tilts his head down to look at you, and presses like lipstick when he does as you asked of him, of your lover.

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DAYUM

Happy (belated) birthday, Chev! Please don't repost Reference used ↓

photo by Ben White

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Hands of the suitors

Characters: Leon, Chevalier, Yves, Nokto, Licht

Tags: prose, headcanons, some spoilers, dark imagery: blood mention, implied slavery, isolation, abuse, self harm, implied suicidal thoughts, etc.

Notes: Some of my thoughts on how their hands must feel and look like. Since this is one of my first headcanons, or work for that matter, into this fandom, I’d much appreciate it if you would go gently on my characterisation of these characters. I’ve only played Leon and Yves’s route up until the point of editing this before posting it, and stumbled over a few spoilers of others routes as well in the meantime. Thank you for reading this notice if you did, I much appreciate it ^^!

Keep reading

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I can understand why everybody calls Gilbert their meow meow. I can understand why you’d make Chevalier your meow meow as well.

But this time,

My meow meow

Is Nokto