#fe3h nader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yanderehsr · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, sadly yesterday a very loved member of my family passed away due to incurable illness and mournfully there wouldn't be a moment allowed to grieve any soon.

If it would it be alright to make a request with yan Claude and yan Dimitri (FE3H) offering comfort or trying to get closer to us using "I relate to this to" move.

The reason of why my mind comes to them is that when it comes to Claude his support conversation with Hilda, show him to have actually good bonds with his parents.The separate quest with Nader talking about the kid's father (Almyran king) not being himself (overworking till passing out) since Claude disappeared from home, like the comfort of family bonds that humans are fighting for.

And when it comes to Dimitri, him keeping to grieve over the loved ones at the same pace as making steps to overcome the hard past toward the future, its the relatable circumstances that makes him endearing to so many.

Losing someone is something that will always hurt, I wont pretend like I know how that feels but I want you to know that you have my condolences😔

Hope you'll enjoy

P.S: Both of these are pre-timeskip

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Isolation

Claude: He will act like he's saddened by it, he really isn't but he wants to keep up appearences for you. He wants you all for himself, he wants to be the only one in your life, the only one to protect you, and he will manipulate and trick you into making this a thing.

Claude is greedy, really greedy when it comes to you and he isn't afraid to use his own past to connect with you or to guilt trip you. He will go to the funeral with you, rubbing your back and comforting you, all while smiling at knowing that you will grow closer with him after this.

"I am terribly sorry for your loss, if you want to you can come to my room, we can have a cup of tea and chat a bit, what do you say"

Dimitri: In contrast to Claude, he actually feels sympathy here, he knows better than anyone the pain of losing someone, he will comfort you and act like the perfect gentleman towards you, don't take this wrong tho, there is no way he wouldn't try to score a few brownie points with you.

Dimitri will tell you stories about when his own parents died, it isn't something he likes talking about but if it's to get something to connect with you, he wouldn't mind telling the story over and over again, hope you like cuddles cus he will give lot's of them when he is comforting you.

"I am truly sorry for your loss, I know how it feels like... if you want to, we can talk about it, maybe you'll feel better if you get it off your chest"

#yandere #yandere fire emblem: three houses #yandere fe3h #yandere male #yandere claude #yandere claude x reader #yandere dimitri #yandere dimitri x reader

57 notes · View notes

omgkalyppso · 9 months ago

Note

"You can trust me. I hope you know that." your FE3H or BG3 characters of choice

I decided I'd write something I'd probably never have written otherwise! Shahid's surrender.

I'm not sure which AU it fits into. Avery is there, my shez oc. And Nader briefly.

The whole thing is 2,193 words and I'll probably put it on ao/3 later. No editing has been done.

Thank you for the ask!!!

Shahid felt the noose tightening. Khalid was the leader of this Leicester Alliance, he should not have been upon the field — what else could there be for him to prove? Unless he simply wanted to kill him personally.

In victory, Shahid imagined he would find his brother at the back of the army, or further still in the walls of some city. Why wouldn't he run away again, as he always had?

In defeat, Shahid would have expected to die at the hands of a stranger, or to be brought violently back to his brother's heel for execution.

Yet here they were, landing wyverns across from one another in a field already stained with blood, no action or subordinates to distract from their acknowledgement of one another.

“It really is you …”

“I'm here to stop you from ruining Almyra's reputation, Shahid.” Claude’s wording was careful. If he could appeal to his brother’s Almyran pride he might be able to turn the leadership of this fight elsewhere.

Shahid pulled on the reigns of his wyvern, causing the beast to rear back with a roar. “Her reputation in this land of weaklings and cowards?”

Claude sighed, disappointed that he’d stumbled on the wrong phrasing for Shahid’s current mood.

“Even now Fodlan's only glory is from the heels of Almyra's weakest link. Without you, this country will cannibalize itself within the decade,” Shahid spat, charging his mount forward, knowing that turning the wyvern would only give an archer lie his brother a larger target.

Rather than accept the clash, Claude took off, spinning thrice to avoid the thrown axe he’d known was coming.

“Almyra knows her worth!” Shahid shouted after him in chase. Whispering under the rush of wind and wings, “And mine.”

Shahid’s axes came close. A single strike to a winged shoulder would have been enough to risk a deadly fall and a lost friend, so Claude paced himself, not meaning to toy with Shahid, but timing sudden drops and careful acrobatics to his advantage. Arrows riddled Shahid’s wyvern before Shahid had managed more than a single scratch on the hide of Claude’s wyvern. Shahid’s mount’s movements had steadily become more choppy, but the final arrow sent the beast to the ground in a steady decline.

Claude wished they’d landed earlier. Shahid’s mount didn’t die gracefully, but Claude had some relief that his brother jumped down and across the wyvern’s wailing body, axe still raised in accusation.

“Give it up, Shahid!” Claude shouted, landing across the field, bow still raised. “It's over. You lost.”

Shahid’s eyes flickered to where a Fodlani soldier rushed forward, skidding to an angular stop to his brother’s side. Beyond, he could see his own fallen guard, and bared his teeth in rage.

“Let fly that arrow, then!” He taunted. “I'll never kneel to the likes of you!”

“But that isn't what I'm asking for you to do here!” Claude insisted. He threw his arms down in frustration, lowering his weapon as he thought of how Shahid would have demanded his allegiance, if not his death — and how he should be doing the same, whether because of Almyran custom, to hide his identity as planned, or for the safety of both Leicester and Almyra. He dismounted. “Let's end this, come on!”

Claude dreamed of the children they had never been, playing together, teaching one another, and reflected on how Shahid’s natural gravity and subtle intellect had inspired the methodology of his plans all the same. Even with how their environment had pit them and their siblings against one another, they were more similar than they were different, even if he would have to convince Shahid of the worth of people not from Almyra. He was his brother, and Claude wanted him at his side, even ahead of him, so long as he would listen, as long as he would try.

“You little brat …” Shahid hissed, holding his left shoulder as though his axe was heavy and he was supporting himself. “I'd sooner die!”

The knife flying in Claude’s direction wasn’t a surprise, but it also wasn’t an attack he should have been weathering, with dreams of reconciliation.

Avery was in front of him in the blink of an eye, easily parrying the thrown blade with the strange, summoned sword that acted as an extension of his arm.

Claude sighed hopelessly, and then donned a different mask as he addressed his classmate, “Thanks for that.”

With his dual blades still at the ready, and without looking away from Shahid, who took three more heavy steps forward, Avery squared his posture, tightened his jaw and tossed his head slightly to adjust his bangs.

“Look, Claude …” Avery said, low. “If you can't do it, then I can.”

Shahid heard him anyway and chuckled darkly as he swung his axe up to hold the weapon in both hands. “Yes, Claude,” he mocked, “loose a mongrel on a prince of Almyra. Even that would be more dignified than to be ended by the hand of an impertinent, soulless—”

“Prince Shahid—” Nader shouted, as if to interrupt him — royalty, while he had the impertinence to land his wyvern at his brother’s side.

Shahid would have none of that, and took off towards him in a run. “How dare you speak to me! You fucking turncoat.”

He expected his brother’s guard dog to cut him off and ignored the roar and shout as he readied to swing up towards the defensive maw of the wyvern on which Nader sat, catching an arrow in the upper arm at the last moment. His weapon faltered, and he should have died, but Nader pulled hard to turn his well-tamed beast aside and into flight again, leaving Shahid on the ground, injured and shamed.

“Why?!” he called up after Almyra’s supposedly staunchest general. “Why did you come with me at all? Why did I trust you?! How could you trust him?!”

It hurt. His pride, his arm, his heart. Yet when the soldier rushed his side, Shahid was able to spin his axe in a wide arc and send them crashing aside.

He expected that might earn him a moment to breathe, to rethink his retreat, but then Claude tackled him and Shahid lost his grip on his weapon as he met the earth unceremoniously.

They’d never fought before, not really. Claude had been a babe, a child, and Shahid had injured, annoyed and abused him if Claude had had the misfortune of being left without a sympathetic authority in his presence. Perhaps that had led Shahid to believe he’d never fought before at all, or to see him still as that helpless child.

Claude clamped a hand around Shahid’s throat, allowing his brother enough momentum to try to sit up from his place prone on the ground before shoving him back down, choking him briefly and cracking the back of his head against the ground. Shahid reached up to claw at his face with one hand, punching back against his brother’s left shoulder with his left hand. Shahid’s wild eyes shook and his vision swam, but he could make out the glittering pieces in Claude’s outfit at this inescapable proximity and despite how Claude decked him in the temple, he was able to steal one of his brother’s many knives with his left hand as his right clung to Claude’s chest, Shahid’s brain rattling in his skull.

Shahid drove that knife into his brother’s thigh and did not release the hilt through the resulting scream, nor as he used Claude’s shock to force them to roll aside.

Shahid longed to berate his brother, to banter and rage and tell him exactly why and how he would never take Almyra, but all he could do was grunt as he pulled out the blade and struggle with his right arm, still plucked by his brother’s arrow, to try to drive it down into the side of Claude’s head. Claude only had to raise his arm to redirect the blow into the earth, where Shahid left the knife and reached forward to grab his brother’s hair and knock him into the ground as Claude had done to him moments ago.

They tussled, all hands, and teeth, and hidden knives, and the rush of wind and dirt as Nader’s wyvern landed somewhere nearby, and Shahid knew he was going to die here.

Claude’s injured leg kneeled down on Shahid’s arm, the retrieved knife held down by Claude’s left fist, deep in his shoulder. Claude’s right forearm extended across Shahid’s chest, Shahid’s right arm twisted on the ground, the arrow now broken and its tip lost somewhere inside the wound. They both gasped for air, the same air, Claude wished he could shout, blood stinging down the side of his forehead getting caught in his brow.

“Shahid,” Claude asked again. “Don't make me do this.”

Shahid hissed through a false smile of teeth again, until Claude pressed the blade harder.

“Don't you want to see home again?” Claude asked desperately, close to crying as he watched Shahid’s eyes squint closed in pain. “The southern beaches, the western desert…”

Shahid’s eyes opened slowly, staring blindly at the blue and white sky above.

“Don't you want to see the sun tomorrow?” Claude bargained. They both winced, shoulders shrinking in shame and humiliation as Nader corralling a crowd could be heard at a distance.

“Shahid,” Claude begged. “Please.” He pulled the knife free, letting the tip press into Shahid’s cheek, not piercing the skin. “Keep your eyes. Keep your tongue.”

Shahid let his gaze drift to Claude again, the fight draining out of him as he thought of home, tears swelling with the realization of all he’d lost, and all he had yet to lose by agreeing.

“I mean to treat you with dignity and respect,” Claude promised, “and that means I won't seek to humiliate you if you just stop … But this respect also means I'll kill you if I have to, brother.”

Shahid smiled again, not at ease, but less malicious than before — more impressed.

“We don’t need to be enemies. But even as enemies,” Claude said, sliding the blade down to press up into the soft flesh under the corner of Shahid’s jaw, “you can trust me. I hope you know that.”

Shahid scoffed and felt the knife draw blood. He swallowed just to feel that he could, and endeavoured to memorize Khalid’s face in this moment: No joy in his victory.

“Get. Off. Me,” he declared, low and regal. He fully expected Claude to refuse, to press a promise of reconciliation, alliance, vassalage, or exile, but on his shaky leg, Claude slowly lifted himself up and stepped away. Shahid lay in the dirt barely a moment longer, reaching up to touch first his neck and then his forehead, bare, now that his circlet had rolled away on the ground during their fight.

Shahid looked over to the purple haired soldier that held their broken ribs in a crooked stance where they stood by the rubble he’d tossed them into, and then turned his attention back to Claude as he sat up with a grunt and a hand on his chest.

“Shahid—” Claude began again, silenced by a raised royal palm raised not so high as usual for the pain and exhaustion Shahid was subject to.

Shahid stretched his neck back, and closed and stretched his hands before making strides to pull himself to his feet, one knee, split open, nearly giving out on him, bleeding copiously through his armor.

“You,” he demanded of the purple haired soldier. “Ask for my surrender.”

Avery answered before looking to Claude in confusion. “What?”

“Please,” Claude said, an open hand facing the ground extended towards Avery to ensure he stayed his weapons. “Do as he says.”

Keeping in-line with the standard set by the nobles in his presence, Avery forced himself to stand though he kept his arm around himself, still feeling the weight of the Almyran prince’s blow.

“In the name of the Leicester Alliance, I demand you … call off your forces. And, uh, submit … to a total surrender.”

Claude’s wince and Shahid’s lowered brow reinforced how Avery had not done that correctly.

“Do I have any forces left?” Shahid asked Claude.

“We’ll take care of it,” Claude answered cryptically.

After a roll of his eyes, Shahid addressed the soldier again, “You will have to bind me.”

“There's no need for—” Claude began to object.

“Shut up,” Shahid said ineloquently. “I need no more than my hands to best you.”

Claude had to hold himself back from pointing out all the evidence to the contrary, and could see how his irritation earned another biting smile from Shahid.

“I will need to be bound,” Shahid told the soldier despite the bile in his throat.

“Yeah,” Avery agreed, sparing a glance at Claude. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Take him straight to the keep. And find him a subtle healer,” Claude ordered Avery. “He’s not a spectacle.” Shahid laughed openly. Claude hid his eyes in his hands and rubbed feeling back into his face, and then swept back his hair. “I have stuff to finish up here.”

#long post #fire emblem #three hopes #claude von riegan #khalid von riegan #shahid few3h #my writing #i made this #the fanfiction i mean

13 notes · View notes