#leosakura

[brinaanana]

Leosaku 🌸🍅 having a blast drawing them!!

[arget-star]

My Heart, It's Snowing

A year after their arranged marriage, Leo and Sakura find themselves in Hoshido to celebrate an upcoming festival. Sakura opts to teach Leo the proper form of Hoshidan dress. Or, Leo has a strange relationship with Physical Affection and Sakura's determined to help him through it.

Part of my loosely defined Arranged Marriage AU.

1,730 words.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Unfamiliarity has become a constant companion in the past year.

The careful, measured way he’d said I do when marrying a Hoshidan bride.

Long speeches performed in front of crowds of hollow-cheeked, war-fatigued Nohirans.

Council meetings lasting far past their scheduled end, dealing with intricate politics he was not born to navigate.

And now, standing half-dressed before his wife, he fights the blush creeping its way across his cheeks, tamps down the desire to throw up his metaphorical armor.

“I-it’s supposed to w-wrap like this,” Sakura says softly, gathering handfuls of the deep purple fabric of his kimono. Her fingertips brush against the linen undershirt covering his chest with the motion.

Leo’s breathing hitches. Unprompted touch is still new to him. The casual intimacy of it all, the implicit trust in allowing someone else access into his personal space. He’d only ever afforded Elise and Corrin the privilege—the former because he vowed his baby sister would never know the feeling of having her love rebuffed, and the latter because he truly had no choice in the matter. Reject Corrin’s affections and endure her tears. (Along with a rather long-winded lecture from Xander.)

Sakura, on the other hand, is neither exuberant or overbearing with her physical touch. It’s always light, airy, like she’s a bird about to take flight at the slightest indication of his discomfort. Yet her caution doesn’t override the determination lurking underneath. She touches him whenever opportunity presents itself, outside of the necessary posturing both their courts demand.

All of her hard work is slowly paying off. Leo can only watch in rapt attention as she effortlessly sweeps the fabric across his body, her proximity bringing with it another whiff of her floral scent. Cherry blossoms, naturally, along with something sweeter. Peonies, he thinks.

He should plant some in Krakenburg’s greenhouse.

Sakura tilts her head up. “L-Leo?”

Her soft voice pulls him from dreams of peony blossoms. Their eyes lock, emerald on brown. Unbidden heat rises in his cheeks; he clears his throat. “Yes?”

“Can y-you please hand m-me your obi?”

Slowly, his pointed chin dips in a nod. A heartbeat passes before he breaks their impromptu staring contest, turning his torso away from her and reaching an arm out to the small dressing table nearby. A group of servants had arrived earlier this morning, carefully carrying in and arranging both his kimono proper and all the accoutrements with it.

The obi material is stiff in his hand as he scoops it off the table. He runs a thumb along the striped purple and gold pattern, wondering if Sakura had planned this months ago. This time, when he hands it over, she’s careful to avoid touching his skin.

He feels bereft, suddenly, as if he’d lost something precious. Sakura unfolds the obi with practiced movements while Leo lifts his arms. He can’t tell if she knows what he’s thinking or if she’s lost in the familiar rituals of her home country’s dress.

She steps closer, top of her head nearly brushing his chin, arms wrapping around his waist. It would be so easy to lower his own arms, to hold her against him and finally let her past the thorns guarding his heart. The limbs twitch just as she moves a foot away, now holding the two ends of the obi.

Disappointment fills the space she just occupied, followed by an undercurrent of relief. He’s become a coward when it comes to vulnerability; too many losses have exacted their toll. If he *did* give in, for this one moment in time, holding her like a devoted husband, would that truly be so awful? Would he find the words to answer her inevitable question?

Leo decides it’s a blessing he’s been offered more time to discover the truth. Sakura pauses briefly in her flurry of motions, gifting him a gentle smile like she knows he’s wrestling with his own thoughts. She returns to her task with no expectation of a reason for his crinkled brow. There’s an intimacy in that, Leo realizes with a sudden bolt of clarity.

“All done,” Sakura says, giving the expertly tied obi knot one final tug. “All that’s l-left is your h-haori and f-fan.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, still recovering from the self-reflection induced by something as simple as being outfitted. “I never knew how much went into Hoshidan attire,” he settles on, lowering his arms and watching her walk towards the stand housing his haori. There’s an art to everything in Hoshido, including how they display and treat their clothing.

Or perhaps it’s only an art because Sakura is performing the action.

While she removes the jacket, he finds his reflection in the mirror, taking careful stock of his appearance. There are no blunt lines or tapered armor points, no high collar he can shield himself with. Only clean, elegant edges leaving him exposed, a raw nerve now bared before all of Hoshido.

(Dissidents would be foolish to mount an attack. No one wants more bloodshed, least of all on a festival day. Leo himself went over the security plans in excoriating detail with King Ryoma—only an act of draconic influence can disturb the square today.)

Sakura returns, this time stopping at his back, deep purple haori in hand. “We v-value our t-traditions,” she says, considering him a moment before seemingly settling an internal debate of her own. “Hold o-out your arms a-again, please.”

Leo obeys, craning his neck behind him in order to see the determination on her face. Their difference in height isn’t usually an issue; then again, she’s not usually attempting to place a jacket on his shoulders. With more care than strictly necessary, he slides his left arm in first, followed by his right.

She moves away again. Leo adjusts the haori, noting the small loops about halfway down the lapels. He fingers one, trying to puzzle out the purpose. There are no buttons that he can see. When Sakura next appears, she’s holding two short, braided white cords. Soft, fond laughter escapes her at his confused look.

(He wants to hear the sound again.)

“One m-more piece to c-complete your o-outfit. The haori-himo,” she begins, holding up the cords, “is c-considered formal d-dress. It a-also keeps the h-haori from s-slipping off your s-shoulders.” She ties one cord into the small loop on the left side of his haori as she speaks, then switches to the right.

Her concentration to helping him—dare he call it *dedication—*fills him with something he’s too wounded to name. “Wait, Sakura. Why is there a pattern on the inside?”

“You o-only noticed n-*now?”*

Well, he can’t tell her he’s been far too distracted by her to pay attention to much else, let alone the inside of his garments. He’d only caught a flash of white lines as she messed with the lay of his haori.

Sakura finishes securing the right-side cord, then carefully peels the deep purple fabric aside. More white lines appear, decorating the interior lining with no order he can discern. “Pine needles r-represent longevity a-and resistance,” she explains, voice quiet on the last word. “I t-thought it s-suited you.”

Suddenly meek, she doesn’t risk looking back up at him, grabbing the ends of the two cords and knotting them together. Leo swallows another rush of emotion. *Resistance.* To what, exactly? Breaking under the strain of assuming a life not meant for him? Succumbing to the darkness said to plague Nohr’s rulers? His stomach churns.

“I-I can c-call for a-another h-haori with a-another p-pattern if t-this one u-upsets y-you.” Delicate fingers curl around the cords, pulling him an inch closer to her. She leans in to him, stopping just shy of planting her forehead against his chest.

Leo shakes his head. Even when he was at his absolute worst during the war, Sakura never held any malice towards him. This was meant as a peace offering, in her own way, a bridge of pine needles extended to mend the jagged gap between them.

*Resistance to love, maybe.*

*“*It’s alright, Sakura. Thank you.” The words come out hoarser than he intends. Strange, how she always manages to reduce him to his most genuine self.

Her head tips back, eyes wide. “Y-you’re n-not upset?”

His heart gives an unhappy twinge. He’s been far colder this past year than he’d previously realized, if she’s this nervous about the significance of a clothing pattern. Before he can overthink it this time, he gingerly places his arms around her waist. Closes the scant few inches separating them, resting his chin atop her head. “No, I’m not.”

Sakura goes utterly still. Leo doesn’t risk moving, lest he scare her further. He can feel her heartbeat, the rabbit-quick pace nearly matching his own. He hopes she wasn’t this nervous the entire morning. She inhales, deeply, in the same way he does when trying to keep his impassive mask in place, then returns his embrace.

“Oh, Leo…”

She clings to him, bunching the fabric at his back. He doesn’t mind. Nothing else matters beyond this touch, the silent admission of trust conveyed in sharing body heat. No thorns writhe in defense. The needle-like tips lay dormant—not yet desiccated, just smoothed. Perhaps, in the future, they’ll disappear completely, and he will be free to love without resistance.

A handful of heartbeats pass in stiff silence. Logic catches up with emotion; the hairs on Leo’s nape prickle with self-awareness. He won’t admit that it’s *nice* being held and holding someone in return, not yet. Once he overcomes the unease with affection, grows comfortable with it, then he can lean into the softer parts of his humanity.

Leo’s still gentle when he removes his arms. The high points of his cheeks are stained a lovely shade of red that he prays will fade by the time he and Sakura must join the royal procession outside. He can’t read the myriad of emotions quickly flitting over her expression. “…thank you, Sakura.”

Her lips part, as if to say something, but she closes them a second later. She understands his gratitude is for more than a simple hug, or even helping him dress. With efficient movements, she smooths out the wrinkled sections of his kimono, and she doesn’t miss the way he trembles ever so slightly at all the physical contact.

Satisfied he’s presentable, she pulls back. “A-always, Leo.”

[sieglinde-freud]

i understand that due to keeping the cross region supports balanced this could not happen in the vanilla game but. man. it fucking shouldve!!

[princepsumbra]

brush .   work  a  brush  /  comb  through  my  muse’s  hair . >w<

Nonverbal Prompts

He hasn't been sleeping, again.

If he's not fighting a war on the battlefield, he's fighting one in the council room. Brynhildr is now exchanged for a quill pen he wields with equal ferocity. Battle maps turn into trade negotiations and policy declarations.

The people hate him no matter what war he's waging. It doesn't matter that in both cases, he pours his heart into helping Nohr, forgoing attending his own needs in favor of supporting his beloved country.

Sleepless nights are just another thing they'll look down on him for. Leo accepted the people's ire when he was just a child--it's nothing new. Some nights, though, when the candles burn low and his eyes sting from staring at cramped handwriting well past midnight, he wishes they knew how much he cared.

Now, he's supposed to give a speech praising the bravery of Nohr's soldiers in less than fifteen minutes, and he looks like someone who forgot how to use a bed. A frown stares back at him from his mirror. Maybe he can stop being so damned fastidious in his appearance for once and earn some sympathy.

"I know, my love," he murmurs, catching Sakura's eyes in the mirror. She assesses him, takes in the mussed hair and dark circles ringing his eyes. Light footsteps carry her closer until she's a breath of wind at his back.

Without a word, the brush is removed from his hands. "Sakura, you don't--" Leo catches the denial for help in time, opting to watch her methodical movements as she tames his unruly locks.

"Thank you."

[endsofthearth]

coммission

[axuqa]

tag nine people you’d like to get to know better!

tagged by @thebalancearc

favourite colour: probably some kind of green? Mint or fern green typically

top favourite ships: oof. So many. TidusYuna, LeoSakura, Rokushi, Fitzsimmons, Ozecho, Chrobin...

lipstick or chapstick: chapstick. I guess. I’m a gremlin.

last movie: How to Train Your Dragon 2 (like half of it)

currently reading: i started oregairu, but we’ll see how far i go.

tagging: you. or somebody. but mostly @ you

[nephenees-lance]

I saw LeoSakura was a huge hit and they're cute, but they didn't conquer me. The royal ship that really got to my heart is TakumiElise, tbh I find them waaaay cuter as a ship than LeoSakura but there's no artwork about them and I'm so sad about this </3

[sakialumei]

@all my LeoSaku followers/mutuals

I finally opened that Discord Server OTL

Plus with LeoSaku Week coming up in December (and all of us are starting early) it would be nice to have a discussion/support group for it too.

Here is the link --> https://discord.gg/rMBpW2M

[brinaanana]

Recent fe fates pieces…. Can you tell I’m VERY excited for the Hoshidsn fest banner 🌌🤲

[brinaanana]

Experimenting making manga pages for fun~~ also to practice line art

Yesterday, I was digging through my old art and found this treasure lmfaoo

[arget-star]

WIP Wednesday :)

LeoSakura my beloveds

[arget-star]

About

Nice to meet you! I'm Charlotte, a woman in my twenties who writes about my fave fictional characters in my spare time.

Writing has always been the Thing for me; I've finally decided to share it with the world. This blog is purely for fun and for the love of both writing + characters we adore.

I do not care for discourse or drama or any such negativity. Let's all just enjoy a story for a moment, shall we? Forget about the troubles of the world until we reach the end?

At this point in time, I do not take requests!

All of my characters are aged up to be 22+.

I try to cross-post to AO3, even for the smaller things.

I am still getting my bearings here, so please be patient with me :)

divider credits

masterlist.

Fire Emblem Three Houses

The Boar's Eye--How did Dimitri lose his eye? ↣ ao3

Fire Emblem Fates

Pale Green, Fairy Mistletoe--Modern!AU Laslow/Azura sillies ↣ ao3

The Future is Forgiven--Awakening Trio reflect on the passage of time. (Written for Fates Route Week 2024!) ↣ ao3

Failure is No Option--The Nohrian Royals spend an afternoon together (Written for Fates Route Week 2024!) ↣ ao3 , ↣ tumblr

Night Owls--Laslow/Azura sneak out for an evening by the beach (Written for Fates Route Week 2024!) ↣ ao3, ↣ tumblr

My Heart, It's Snowing--Arranged Marriage LeoSakura. Touch as a love language. Post Birthright Route. ↣ ao3, ↣ tumblr

Fire Emblem Engage

Where Does Your Faith Fall?--A collection of drabbles featuring Diamant and Ivy. (Written for DiamIvy Week 2023!) ↣ ao3

[axuqa]

I’m bored so I was re-exploring my favorite couples through the years. 

1. RoxasXion

2. TidusYuna

3. LeoSakura

4. OzEcho

5. MesserKaname

6. FitzSimmons

7. KanoKido

8. TerraAqua

9. TakiMitsuha

10. SyaoranSakura

Take a fucking guess what they have in common.

[sakialumei]

Eyy how bout some leosaku with the word "warm"?

Sure!

—

Sakura reached the top of the hill, swaying the picnic basket. “Leo?” she asked, looking down. He reached her, finally, panting as he knelt down, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Gods…” he breathed as she giggled. “Why is…Hoshido…so damn hot,”

“W-well…you are wearing black,” she said, kneeling down as well to set up their picnic.

Leo lifted his head, unbuttoning his top buttons. “I’ll remember next time.” As she put their food on the blanket, he smiled. “Does Nohr ever get too cold for you?”

“Sometimes.” She scooted next to him, leaning in. “But I’ve got you to warm me up…”