#genuinely he and claude mix so well together

[leafuxxtea]

LISTENING TO SHADE ON LOOP, LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO 💥💥💥

[broomballkraken]

Title: Inaccurate Assumptions

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Claude/Lorenz/Sylvain

Word count: 3243

Warnings: None

Summary: Claude was no stranger to masking his emotions, but it was especially hard to hide how much it hurt seeing Sylvain and Lorenz being affectionate with one another, as that served as a bitter reminder of how he had missed his chance to be with either of them.

Late one night, Sylvain comes on to Claude, who berates him for even thinking about cheating on Lorenz. Luckily for Claude, he has the completely wrong idea.

Written for Day 4 of @fe3hpolyshipweekk2024, Prompt: Poly Negotiation

It was a quiet night at Garreg Mach, where the worn-out members of the Alliance army were enjoying a brief window of respite from the rigors of war. Many had taken the opportunity to catch up on sleep, but Claude wasn’t one of them.

The only sound in his office was the scratching of his pen against the parchment below it, which was currently a half-written request for more provisions from Derdriu. Claude was quick to finish it and add it to the ever-growing pile of letters, strategic plans, and battle reports that had made a cluttered mess of his desk.

Letting out a groan, Claude propped up his elbows and cradled his head in his hands. He was weary - exhausted even - and it was only getting worse as the war dragged on. Plus, even though he tried his damnedest to hide it, his mood more often than not was rather dour. He would have liked to place all of the blame on the war effort, but that was far from the truth.

In truth, it was matters of the heart that had Claude feeling like a dark cloud had taken residence right over his head. Somehow, he had managed to develop very romantic feelings for not just one, but two men.

Lorenz and Sylvain - the two men in question - were unlike anyone that Claude had ever met before. Lorenz was wholly dedicated to his lofty position as the future Count Gloucester - sometimes annoyingly so - but Claude had come to realize that he genuinely cared about his people and wanted to do everything that he could to make all of Fódlan a better place. That was something that Claude deeply admired about his former rival, and that admiration was quick to grow into something much more complicated...

As for Sylvain, Claude was drawn to his intelligence, and they had played many games of chess during their academy days. Bouncing strategies off of him always yielded interesting results, and even though Claude was well aware of his...skirt chasing antics, it seemed that Sylvain had left that part of him in the past; Claude was very thankful for that. Claude’s feelings for Lorenz were complicated enough, but adding Sylvain to the mix just made everything even more of a mess.

Leaning back in his chair, Claude folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Alas, it seemed that luck wasn’t in his favor when it came to romance, because as he struggled to figure out how to make his heart decide which one to court, Lorenz and Sylvain had started a relationship with each other. News of that development had spread through the ranks like wildfire, and way more than one person was shocked that the two bitter rivals in flirting were now a rather loving couple.

Claude had been one of those people, but seeing how affectionate they were with each other - in contrast to their time at the academy that they spent fighting over every little thing - he couldn’t help but think that they were perfect together, leaving Claude to deal with a mix of conflicting emotions.

Sure, he was happy for them; they were his friends, after all. However, he couldn’t quite suppress the pit of longing for the both of them that had settled deep within his heart. Claude wished that he could, because these unrequited feelings that he harbored were proving to be a big distraction from his work.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door, which pulled Claude right out of his broody thoughts. Rubbing his temples, he let out a long sigh, wondering who would want to bother him at this hour. He crossed the room and opened the door, his eyes going wide and his cheeks flushing with heat.

“Hey, Claude,” Sylvain said with a too-sweet smile on his face as he leaned an arm against the door frame. “Enjoying your evening?”

Claude’s guard immediately went up and he narrowed his eyes. It was apparent that something was off about Sylvain - with the way that his intense gaze seemed to bore right into Claude’s very soul - and he remained wary as he stepped aside to let Sylvain step into the room.

“If going through seemingly-endless stacks of paperwork sounds fun to you, then yes, it’s been great,” Claude said, and his heart fluttered, in spite of his unease, when Sylvain laughed.

“Honestly? That sounds like hell.”

Claude shrugged as he closed the door behind him, and when he turned around to respond, the words caught in his throat when he found Sylvain standing very close to him. Close enough, in fact, that when he tilted his head up to look right into Sylvain’s pretty brown eyes, their noses almost brushed and Claude could feel his breath on his face.

“Hmm,” Sylvain hummed, his tongue poking out between his lips as he slipped his fingers under Claude’s chin. “Though, I can think of a few ways to spice up your night...”

Claude’s heartbeat was roaring in his ears, and it was beating so fast he thought it might burst right out of his chest. This...this had to be a dream. Claude had fallen asleep at his desk, and was just having a dream fueled by that damned pit of loneliness that permeated his entire being. That had to be it, because otherwise...

Sylvain was trying to cheat on Lorenz.

Anger bubbled up swiftly within Claude, engulfing any and all other emotions. His face scrunched up in disgust as he took a step back from Sylvain; apparently he had been very wrong about Sylvain abandoning his flippant attitude towards relationships. Claude knew how much Lorenz cared for him - hell, he probably loved Sylvain at this point - and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to let Sylvain get away with trying to cheat on him.

“If you want to fool around behind Lorenz’s back, leave me out of it. The fact that you're even doing so in the first place pisses me right off,” Claude snapped, his eyes narrowing into a glare when Sylvain burst out laughing.

Claude’s rage boiled over as he stepped forward to grab Sylvain by the collar. “You know he really cares about you, right? Are his feelings just some kind of joke?” Sylvain did not resist, instead focusing on containing his laughter. When he had succeeded, he cleared his throat and shook his head.

“No, no. You’ve got it all wrong, Mister Leader Man,” Sylvain said, a sly smirk crossing his face. “I’d never do that to Lorenz. I...actually really care about him too. Probably more than he knows.” Claude blinked slowly as he released his hold on Sylvain, and his brow furrowed with confusion when a light blush rose on Sylvain’s cheeks.

“Then...what are you talking about?”

Sylvain swallowed thickly before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Well, Lorenz and I...we were hoping that you might want to, ah...be with us. Both of us.”

“...Excuse me?”

“We want you in on this relationship, Claude.”

Ah, so Claude wasn’t having sleep-deprived hallucinations and in fact did hear him correctly. His eyes shifted to one side as he cleared his throat, his cheeks burning hot. This...was not what he expected at all from Sylvain, but he was incredibly relieved that his initial assumption about his intentions was very, very wrong.

“Well...first things first.” Claude rubbed at the back of his neck and forced his eyes forward to meet Sylvain’s gaze. “I’m sorry for accusing you of trying to cheat on Lorenz, Sylvain.”

A nervous laugh escaped Sylvain and he shrugged. “It’s alright. I...did have a reputation back in our academy days, after all.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Claude smiled when Sylvain laughed earnestly this time, but that smile was quick to fall from his face. Sylvain raised an eyebrow at him, and Claude let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Are you sure that I wouldn’t just be...intruding on your relationship, and that Lorenz actually wants me?” Claude asked, hesitation evident in his tone.

Sylvain barked out a laugh and reached out to take Claude’s hand. “Oh, absolutely not, for one. We both really care about you, Claude. It was pretty hard not to fall for someone as strong, compassionate, determined, stupidly smart...and really sexy.”

Claude felt his cheek start to burn, and he chuckled as he curled his hand around Sylvain’s. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

“Oh please.” Sylvain rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “You haven’t heard Lorenz talk about you yet. If it were him here, he’d still be going on and on about all the things he loves about you. Hell, I’d probably be a jealous mess about it if I wasn’t into you too.”

“Really?”

Sylvain winked and tugged on Claude’s hand, causing him to gasp as he was pulled flush against him. “Yep. In fact, I told Lorenz it would have been better if both of us came to ask you to be with us, but for some dumbass reason, he’s convinced that you’d never be attracted to him.”

Claude blinked at Sylvain, his eyes going wide. “Wait, really?”

He nodded, before letting out a huff and shaking his head. “And that’s bullshit, obviously. I mean, how many men do you see with an attractive face, gorgeous eyes, a sexy body, and beautiful hair? He’s really one of a kind.”

Claude nodded slowly, still not quite believing this was actually happening. While the gears turned within his head, he hadn’t noticed that his face had scrunched up considerably, but Sylvain had.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that if you keep it up, Claude,” he said, and Claude’s breath hitched when Sylvain’s face appeared inches from his own. He stared deep into Claude’s eyes with an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. When he spoke again, his lips came dangerously close to grazing Claude’s, causing sweat to bead on the back of the latter’s neck:

“What are you afraid of?” His voice was soft, and Claude gulped when Sylvain’s hand moved to cup his cheek.

When he finally managed to speak, Claude’s voice was quiet, unsure. “...That this is all just a really, really good dream.”

Sylvain chuckled softly, and his free hand moved to settle upon Claude’s waist. “I can prove to you that it’s not.”

Before Claude could respond, Sylvain closed the minuscule space between them and pressed their lips together in a tender kiss. Claude’s heart leapt into his throat, and his eyes were wide when Sylvain tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Warmth flooded through every inch of Claude’s body, and he felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of his chest. This feeling was...incredible.

Smiling against Sylvain’s lips, Claude let his eyes slip shut as he wrapped his arms around him, pulling him even closer. He let himself get lost in the feeling of kissing one of the objects of his affection, and just when he thought he would drown in the bliss, Sylvain broke the kiss, allowing them both to catch their breath.

“So...” Sylvain said, grinning as he brushed the back of his fingers over Claude’s cheek. “Still having doubts?”

Claude frowned as the gentle warmth within him was swiftly replaced by a frigid unease. “Well, not about you. Lorenz, though...”

Sylvain rolled his eyes, before taking Claude’s hand and tugging him out the door. “Well, let’s go tell him the good news, then you’ll see that you’re worried for nothing!” He barked out a laugh as he threw his arm over Claude’s shoulder. “Heh, he’s gonna be so pissed that I got to kiss you first!”

Claude’s laughter joined Sylvain’s, adding some mirthful noise to the quiet night. He would like to take Sylvain’s word for it, but Lorenz had always butted heads with Claude over every little thing...but then Claude remembered how badly he used to get along with Sylvain, and that was enough to light a spark of hope within him.

When they reached Sylvain and Lorenz’s room, Sylvain opened the door, and Claude was not surprised to see that Lorenz was in the middle of getting a table set up for teatime.

“Sylvain, my dear, is that you? Oh good, I’m about to start brewing the tea-”

When Claude stepped into the room after Sylvain and Lorenz turned around, he let out a shriek, his arms shooting straight up into the air and sending the bag of tea leaves that he had been holding flying across the room (Claude was grateful that it hadn’t been opened yet).

“C-C-Claude?!?” Lorenz’s eyes were wide with shock, and his pale face had flushed a cute shade of pink; Claude couldn’t help but think that he looked incredibly endearing in this flustered state.

“Ahem, I-I mean...” Bringing a hand to his face, Lorenz cleared his throat before straightening his posture and turning his narrowed eyes to look at Sylvain as he aimed his question at Claude: “What are you doing here...at this time of night?”

Sylvain spoke up before Claude had a chance to answer: “Babe, I talked to Claude about joining our relationship-”

“You what??? ” Lorenz’s face went white as a sheet and he covered it with his hands. “I told you that was a bad idea, and now you’ve brought him here to reject me to my face? Of all the horrible, embarrassing, degrading things to-”

Sylvain rolled his eyes hard; Claude was shocked that they didn’t pop right out of his head. “Oh cool it already, you dramatic bastard.”

Lorenz gasped, looking offended, and crossed his arms over his chest as he turned up his nose. “Ugh, how incredibly uncouth, Sylvain!”

“Yeah, yeah, just listen, will you-”

“Why? So I can hear you say how foolish my feelings are...for someone that I am completely and utterly unworthy of?” Lorenz’s breathtaking amethyst eyes took on a watery sheen, and Claude didn’t want to listen to him degrade himself any longer. He took a few steps forward and reached out to take Lorenz’s hand, who let out a gasp and snapped his head up to look Claude in the eye.

“Can I say something, Lorenz?” Claude asked softly, giving Lorenz’s trembling hand a squeeze.

“I-I suppose so, but-”

Claude cut Lorenz off by cupping his face and pressing their lips together in a tender kiss. Lorenz made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, his eyes wide as saucers, and Claude managed to hold back a laugh when Lorenz’s eyes slipped shut and he smiled against Claude’s lips. Kissing Lorenz was a bit more restrained experience than kissing Sylvain, but it was soft and tender and just as fucking incredible as kissing Sylvain for the first time had been.

When they parted, Claude couldn’t help but laugh at the absolutely flabbergasted look on Lorenz’s face. His jaw was hanging open while he blinked slowly, and his face had flushed an even darker red than Sylvain’s hair.

“T-That wasn’t...” Lorenz managed to squeak out after a few moments of stunned silence, “...saying something.”

Claude snorted to suppress his laughter, and Sylvain smiled as he walked over to them and placed his hands on each of their shoulders.

“Oh, but I think it says everything, babe,” he said, leaning over to place a kiss on Lorenz’s cheek. “So are you gonna cut that self-deprecating bullshit out now?”

Lorenz’s gaze fell to the floor for a moment, and when he looked back up at the two other men, Claude had to avert his gaze this time, for he was afraid that he’d go blind staring at the breathtakingly-bright smile that Lorenz had on his face.

“Yes, apologies to you both. I’m just...you really want to be with us, Claude?” Lorenz asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he gazed at him with hopeful eyes. Sylvain was also looking at him expectantly, and Claude chuckled, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You know...when Sylvain came to my office, I thought I fell asleep at my desk...” Claude said, reaching out to take Sylvain and Lorenz’s hands, “because I’ve been dreaming about being with either one of you for a long time now. Getting to be with both of you, though...that’s even better than my wildest dreams.”

Lorenz sucked in a sharp breath, but his face fell when Sylvain burst out laughing. Pursing his lips, Lorenz shook his head and sighed.

“And just what are you laughing at, Sylvain? This is a serious moment, you know.”

Sylvain managed to compose himself, and he wiped at his eyes before pulling both men into a tight hug. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just didn’t think I’d ever hear something that cheesy come out of anyone’s mouth but yours, Lorenz.”

“Ugh,” Lorenz groaned and rolled his eyes, before placing a reluctant kiss onto Sylvain’s cheek. “You are insufferable, darling.”

“Heh, right back at ya, babe.”

Lorenz still looked a bit miffed, but when Sylvain pressed his lips against his, Lorenz’s annoyance seemed to melt away in an instant. Claude watched them kiss with an overwhelming amount of fondness; Gods, he was a damn lucky man.

“Claude...my dear,” Lorenz said when they had parted, and a warm, giddy feeling spread throughout Claude’s chest at the term of endearment. “Would you...like to join us for tea? We can further discuss our relationship, if you would like.”

Nodding, Claude leaned over to place a kiss on Lorenz’s cheek, coaxing a cute ‘oh!’ out of him. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot, hun.” Lorenz averted his gaze, and the shy smile that crossed his face almost made Claude swoon.

When Lorenz managed to look back at him, Claude’s heart leapt into his throat when he took his hand. “I am...very happy that you’re here, darling,” Lorenz said, lifting Claude’s hand to his face and placing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“Wow...” Claude breathed, his heartbeat roaring within his ears as Sylvain laughed.

“You better get used to that, babe,” he said, leaning over to give Claude a light peck on the lips. “Lorenz loves giving hand kisses.”

“I’ll keep that in mind...sweetheart .”

Claude greatly enjoyed the way that Sylvain’s face flushed a bright red, and he let out a low whistle and shot Claude a wink as they both started to help Lorenz prepare teatime for three.

“Man, you’re lucky that Lorenz loves his tea so much, or I’d suggest skipping it all together and getting to the real exciting part of a new relationship, the fuc-”

“Sylvain! Do not be crude during teatime,” Lorenz hissed, delivering a light swat to his arm, earning a pout in return. “Patience is a virtue, after all. We will certainly get there. The night is still so young.” The mischievous grin that crossed Lorenz’s face was certainly something that Claude had never seen before, and he was suddenly very interested in getting through this tea time as quickly as possible.

“Heh, can’t wait, babe!”

Claude echoed Sylvain’s sentiment, if the heat building up within his gut was anything to go by, and when the tea was finally poured after what seemed like ages, he caused quite the scene when he managed to burn his tongue trying to drain his cup in one go...

[helloquotemyfoot]

3, 22, and 35 for the FE3H ask list!

3. Favourite Black Eagles student, and why?

The toughest question first 😭 it's so hard because I love them all!! But I do really have to say Edelgard. Her personal story of rediscovering herself after trauma, with the help of her friends, is so heartwarming, and her genuine dedication to improving the lives of ordinary people in Fodlan is so inspiring--so many people after suffering what she suffered would think about revenge, and of course that's understandable, but what is so impressive about Edelgard is that it becomes a transformative moment for her because she sees how this system of suffering and abuse transcends her own personal life and she sees the systemic roots of this obsession with Crests and how it affects everyone. This is such a radical outlook in this kind of setting but so moving when it is so genuinely felt. And the genius of tying this into her own personal experience of trauma as well, that part of the reason she sees this systemically is because she dehumanises herself and distances herself from the girl, "El", who 'died' under torture, means you get the beautiful, beautiful thematic resonance of Edelgard recovering her "humanity", her own personhood as El, at the same time as tearing down these structural barriers on "humanity" as a whole in Fodlan.

On top of all this, she is just so much fun as a person. She's a dramatic dork who has a weird sense of humour and gets disappointed when people don't laugh at her jokes, who wants everyone to be as excited about the Black Eagle Strike Force name as her, who does hilarious impressions of her friends. I could imagine myself being friends with her and talking theory in one moment before sobbing over a picture of some tiny kittens the next. I love her your honour.

22. Unpopular or rare ship/support you really like, and why?

Well, the obvious one here is Edelclaude, lol. For the Three Houses fandom this definitely counts as a rare ship. Firstly, I think on a practical level, these two have goals which are very compatible in a way that Edelgard's goals aren't really compatible with Rhea or Dimitri (without massive character development so that they're very different to in the game, of course in AUs all bets are off), something which is hinted at in the game itself and which the two characters note about each other. Edelgard is focused on Fodlan, but she wants to change it, including by taking down the Church as a political institution, which per Claude is where Fodlan's prejudice against outsiders comes from. Similarly, Claude's focus is on peoples of different cultures coming together and sharing with one another because of his personal experience as a mixed race person, but he also talks about inequality between nobles and commoners at times. Their ideals could very easily work together and enhance each other if either was in a different place and could start that cooperation in the game.

Which brings me to the second part of why I like this ship, and for me the more important one. I think Claude and Edelgard have really compatible personal arcs as well. For both of them, they begin the game distrustful, having suffered trauma which makes them question their own personal worth, both believing that their friends and classmates would not like them if they knew the truth about who they were. Both find self-belief from Byelth's uncomplicated acceptance of them, in Edelgard's case she begins to believe in her own self-worth and rediscover her identity as "El", whilst Claude becomes more open and honest. I think it is a huge thing that both Claude and Edelgard spend the timeskip being certain that Byleth will return. Edelgard sends people out searching; meanwhile, in VW, Claude is waiting for Byleth at Garreg Mach around the time everyone promised to meet and shows no surprise at seeing them there. Over the course of the war, in CF Edelgard continues to show more parts of herself to Byleth, culminating in the A support where she asks Byleth to consider themself one of her family by calling her "El". Claude also continues to reveal more of his plans and identity, the pain he experienced as a child for being mixed race.

Both Edelgard and Claude, subconsciously or not, are looking for someone to trust and believe in. They're both desperately afraid of rejection whilst craving companionship. They both intend to build a better world for others, this desire being born out of terrible pain and trauma they both experienced, and a selfless desire not to see anyone else hurt by the same thing. I don't mean to collapse the differences between them, either--imo Claude's background leads him to believe that his fundamental nature is repulsive to others, whilst Edelgard mainly fears that it is her actions which will drive others away (complicated by her dehumanisation of herself/viewing herself as a tool for her cause).

In my opinion, it's actually Claude who has greater trust issues of the two. Edelgard spends White Clouds making very overt gestures to Byleth as well as to some other Black Eagles (Dorothea, Caspar), whereas Claude is much more secretive and for the most part only obliquely refers to his own ambitions (a big exception is not with Byleth, but with his support with Marianne, which is one of the key occasions where you see Claude's desire to connect with others). He doesn't even dare to open up more to characters like Petra, who might understand his position as an outsider and has no love of Fodlan's xenophobia, either. But these differences as well as their similarities is what could make their relationship so compelling. Edelgard is more optimistic, whilst also in a sense being more practical, not being concerned with things that don't affect her immediate goal such as the ultimate truth of the War of Heroes. Meanwhile, Claude is (imo) more cynical and sceptical, but also more curious and, in a sense, concerned with high-minded ideals, and broader narratives - I don't think it's coincidence that his first idea in Fodlan was to get ahold of the Sword of the Creator, a weapon with massive mythological destructive abilities, yes, but also a heroic symbol which could rival the Church's power as derived from Seiros.

I think Edelgard would push Claude to see others in a better light, whilst Claude would provide an intellectual challenge that Edelgard craves, poking holes in her plans and showing how reform measures could be taken advantage of--so that they can both improve the final product and create a better world together. I think they could both provide the other that acceptance and companionship that they crave. I think they both understand the darkness in humankind, and would accept and understand each other's darker aspects as well, whilst urging each other not to give into them.

Also, by far the most compelling argument, they both deserve to be happy.

35. What are some of your most unpopular opinions about the game/characters/story?

Hmm honestly I'm not completely sure of this one because I've mainly found my little corner of fandom with similar-minded people and stayed out of the rest, lol. But my most unpopular opinion is probably that I don't care for Dimitri very much and I don't really see him as a progressive character. I think he has an innate compassion for others which could certainly LEAD to him becoming more progressive in an AU context, however I don't think he was given the background to develop that in Faerghus and he doesn't develop it in canon. He sees feudalism in an idealistic light which means he ultimately keeps commoners in a subordinate position - not without sympathy, not because he really believes that they're worth less than nobles but just because That's The Way The World Is and, fundamentally imo, he doesn't have the vision to see something beyond the way the world currently works. Hence, he's a more traditionalist character who wants to make minor reforms to the current system, to prevent its worst abuses, but he can't articulate a future without the system in which people can be more equal. For example, his views on Crests are that they're needed for defence and "these views stand the test of time for a reason". This isn't a person who really understands structural issues like classism, racism, sexism, etc. Imo that's part of the real tragedy of his route, because Dimitri himself would be so much happier if he were able to do something like, just be a mercenary who defends people from bandits, or even something totally non-violent like, idk, working in a soup kitchen or nursing the sick. Instead he's steeped so much in these Traditions of kingship, feudalism, the Crest hierarchy, the Church's hegemony, etc, that he feels he *has* to be king and he has to maintain these structures, even whilst they actually bring all the people around him in the Blue Lions house (and himself) suffering.

I don't want to go more into this because in general I prefer to talk more about aspects of the game I enjoy, and I also realise this is already a SUPER LONG post lmao, so I will stop there. But thank you for these questions, I had a really fun time answering them!

[dmclemblems]

@garlandgerard said: lorenz literally cares so much. so where are his supports with dimitri

YES I’m still so sad they have nothing for supports. They have so many of the same morals and values. I feel like they’d work so well together in politics, and I also think that if they added Sylvain to the mix that they’d really get a lot done and help Fodlan progress. With the way they wrote Sylvain in AG, which mind you I think was phenomenal, I feel like they’d absolutely be able to fix the major issues in Fodlan.

I really appreciate that this game expresses just how much Lorenz cares about people’s lives. For him it’s not just about Leicester’s people or Gloucester’s people. He’s a lot like Dimitri in that he cares about all lives, and he feels a sense of obligation to protect commoners who can’t help themselves. They’re both people who are in a better place in society than the commoners and they want to use that position to help people who are less fortunate or can’t, for one reason or another, help themselves.

Honestly I think they’d both really respect each other and I’ve been disappointed at their minimal interactions in both games. They were a perfect opportunity for an amazing friendship that could genuinely help Fodlan. Plus since they both have respect for Claude, if Claude wanted to forge an alliance with them from Almyra, it would go a lot more smoothly if Lorenz and Dimitri were the ones responding to him.

We were utterly robbed of Lorenz and Dimitri interactions in both games AAAAAAAAAAAA.

colombia-chan said: Seriously when Lorenz dad is making sense there is a problem, no I don't count this route as a redemption arc for him that man possibly (definitely) killed Claude's uncle and Raphael's parents?!

Yeah see in this game I feel like Lorenz’s dad was absolutely in the right and that’s just weird. I feel like in Houses he was made out to be much more morally ambiguous? In this game he seems like a pretty alright dude and he’s completely on the right track about Claude. It does bother me about the whole, he’s right that the foreigner is a danger to Fodlan (even if he’s trying to help Leicester, he’s a danger to the rest of Fodlan so like... points for Erwin I guess), but in this game he’s just... kinda right. About everything lol.

When it comes to any kind of redemption arc I definitely split this game off in my mind from Houses. Since this is a totally alternate timeline, like, I don’t think Erwin was right at all in Houses. In Hopes he’s spot on and I can’t argue with his takes, and he also strikes me as a really caring and present father in his son’s life. He’s not all that bad to me in Hopes, but I separate that from Houses because the things he’s implied to have been doing/saying are pretty scummy and questionable. It kind of feels like two different people  to me, honestly? I guess maybe I can try to consider a happy medium where he’s questionable in what he does but could say he’s a loving father or something.

I was pretty surprised with his character in this game because I expected to not like him at all. I wouldn’t say he’s someone I like overall, but I definitely don’t hate the Erwin of this game. Still, it’s definitely odd being able to agree with him and hear his advice and be like wow, he nailed it. Very odd feeling lol.

[brotherslayer]

Yandere!Jen has to get rid of Ijekiel to get Athy for herself— how does she proceed?

Anon you sadist! Why would you say that when I love Ijekiel so much. 😭

My version of yan! Jen would kill Claude, become Emperor and marry Athy asap. He would give Ijekiel a hint to keep his hands to himself and Ijekiel would be smart enough to obey his wish. Should he still be persistent.. well, Zenetien could just order the guards not to let Ijekiel into the palace, put him under arrest, threaten to marry him off to another noble girl or give him a duchy to rule, preferably one which lies far away from the capital. To drive the message home he might invite Ijekiel over on the day the heads of the traitors to the crowns are displayed at the palace gates or leave him in charge of the torture interrogation  of political prisoners, if we wanna go the dark Emperor Zenetien route. A method he is not particular fond of, but hey if it keeps the nobles from acting up he might be down for it. As long as he himself doesn't have to dirty his own hands or watch a man lose his limbs one by one he's fine . He's still very sensitive to violence even if he is the one who orders it. Lmao I kinda headcanon yandere Jennette as a hypocrite and a coward. (Sorry Jen! *bows down*)

In his ideal world he gets to have both Athy and Ijekiel, but this could never happen. In my head Athy and Ijekiel are always destined to fall in love. For Athy/Jen to happen Athy and Ijekiel would have to be separated.

If we are talking about an AU where his dark magic corrups him or he genuinely thinks Athy tried to kill him: he’d be absolutely ruthless and act without any consideration to her feelings. Ijekiel won’t even be a problem, He would fake Athy’s death/kidnapping and chain her up somewhere in the Ruby Palace. I said once yandere Jen wouldn’t do anything extreme to her without Athy’s consent, but if he acted under the impression that she wanted him dead, his mind would see her as nothing but a villainess who deserves punishment and anything would be free game to him. LP Jen is always two inches away from murdering her.

LP Jen murdering Athy and then keeping her corpse around and regretting it would be a more likelier scenario to me than Jen murdering Ijekiel tbh mainly because I think Jen would realize her feelings very late and interpret them as jealousy. Internalized homophobia + incest guilt would make her think that she is in love with Ijekiel and is afraid Athy would take Ijekiel away from her and not vice versa. You see, I picture Jennette generally as a yandere who is more detrimental to Athy’s physical and mental well being than yandere Ijekiel.

Dark Jennette who does not give a shit about anything but Athy and is just full of silent rage when confronted with the reality that the Alpheus had been lying to her for almost her entire life. would systematically get rid of anything that stands between herself and the object of her desire She would use: poison, defamation or dark magic (if she knows how to control it).

I don’t think she would frame the Alpheus for treason as it would directly affect her (traitor families usually get executed together don’t they?) and it would destroy her relationship with Athy irreparably. Dark magic is risky since it’s outlawed in Obelia and she hasn’t been trained how to wield it.

This is why I think just like in LP the weapon of her choice would be poison.

If Jennette were to run around the city looking for an assassin to take care of her family it would be an alarming sight but no one would pay any mind to her tending to the flowers in her garden (nevermind that she grows wolf's bane, hemlock, tulip's, belladonna and other poisonious plants in her little corner of the greenhouse)

She would poison them, slowly for all the years she had been kept in the dark about her true parentage. For her childhood that had been stolen away from her. For the love that had been denied her.

The motive would be a mix of jealousy (“lover’s triangle”); removing an obstacle (Athy'll stay with me if Ijekiel is gone) revenge (make them pay) and lastly sadism (make them suffer).

Some poisoners revel the role of tender, self-sacrificing attendant to the victim they are slowly killing. This could be the case for yandere novel lp Jennette. She would enjoy to play the grief-stricken young widow of a tragic romance and let herself be comforted by the gentle embrace of her sister.  Perhaps she wouldn't even intent to kill Ijekiel. For her it would be enough if he were confined to his bed for the rest of his life because of sickness.The money and property as well as the power over the ducal house would go to her after their marriage and no one could possibly expect her to perform her wifely duties when her husband constantly hovers between life and death.

Alternatively to poison she could stage an accident that permanently cripples Ijekiel. Like sabotaging his saddle before he goes hunting. (oh god I stop here now just thinking about it hurts).

Ijekiel's condition could give her an excuse to write Athy detailed letters about his suffering that guilt-trip Athy into visiting and even staying overnight to help her nurse Ijekiel back to health. They’d spend loads of time together. Athy would take her to outings in an attempt to cheer her up and distract her from her misery. How is Athy supposed to say no to any request of hers when Jennette is fighting so bravely against such a hopeless situation?

[starshine583]

Crossing a Line (18)

(I’m just gonna keep changing the title set up until I’m satisfied lol anyway, enjoy reading chapter 18 of the Le Paon AU as the tension rises!)

Part 1 / Part 17 / Part 19

The lead of the pencil scratched across the paper as Marinette drew another flower. True to his word, Felix had passed her classroom after each period, subtly giving her a nod or wave to acknowledge the check in. Marinette decided to mark off the classes by drawing flowers. That way, anyone- *cough* Alya *cough* -watching would think she was just doodling. The strategy’s worked well so far, and now she only had one class left before lunch.

Marinette pulled her lip between her teeth and reached down to fiddle with the peacock miraculous again. She’d hardly let it go since her confrontation with Felix. He seemed genuinely surprised about the consequences of the wish, but she’d seen too many ‘genuine’ things from him to trust that again. So It helped ease her mind a bit knowing that Felix was currently powerless. If he did intend on twisting the odds again, he’d have to jump through a few more hoops than before. 

That begs the question, though: If Felix was telling the truth, what happens next? She’ll get back her miraculous and heal Emilie, but will Felix keep fighting with Hawk Moth? What if he still felt a morbid sense of loyalty towards the terrorist? What if Hawkmoth pressures him to get the miraculous anyway as payback for the peacock miraculous? Does this whole fiasco boil down to what Hawkmoth really wants?

“Hey, girl! You ready for lunch?” Alya asked, drawing her from her thoughts.

Marinette blinked. “Lunch?”

“Yeah, it’s time for our lunch break.”

Marinette turned to the rest of the class, who were already filing out of the classroom. Was class over? She didn’t realize she’d spaced out that long.

“Anyway, I was thinking of the park? We haven’t eaten there in a while.” Alya continued thoughtfully.

“Oh, actually,” Marinette said, “I’m eating lunch with Felix today.”

She held back a wince when Alya’s gaze snapped to hers. “You’re what?”

“Yeah..” Marinette sighed, standing up to gather her things. “He- um -we have a few fashion things to talk about? So we decided to eat lunch together.”

“And when were you going to tell me?” Alya asked, clearly offended that she’d been left out of the loop.

“It only just happened this morning.” Marinette offered sheepishly. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Please don’t make it that big of a deal.

“What? Girl, that’s a big score! Even if it’s not an official date, it’s still lunch together!” Alya insisted, now getting giddy with the news. Great. “I’ll forgive you for forgetting to tell me, but I want all the deets afterwards as an apology!”

Marinette plastered on a smile. She couldn’t blame her best friend for accidentally hitting a sore spot. Her romantic feelings for Felix fading away because of a betrayal involving both of their miraculous is a scoop that even Alya couldn’t have guessed. Marinette didn’t guess it either. “Sure, Alya.”

The two girls said their goodbyes, and Alya pranced off to tell the rest of the girl gang about Marinette’s “unofficial date” with Felix. It was a hollowing feeling, watching everyone get to live their lives as if nothing earth-shattering had happened. Marinette was barely holding it together, fueled by her rage and determination alone, and no one knew. Well, no one except Felix, but he’d been the cause of the damage. That wasn’t exactly a comfort for her. Will she have to act like nothing’s happened between them for the rest of her life? That will be hard considering Alya and the others are still trying to push them together.

Marinette checked her phone as she walked towards the cafeteria. She’d tried to call Chat Noir as Jiāng húlí several times, but he must not have been transformed. It went straight to voicemail. She had to give Master Fu the fox miraculous soon after, so she crossed her fingers that he might get the message of her distress and contact her.

A part of her wondered what he would say if he knew what had happened. He’d been the first to warn her, after all. He told her that Le Paon wasn’t to be trusted, and what did she do? She threw away the statements without a second thought. All because of some fickle emotions. At least she’d learned her lesson: Villains can shine and sparkle like heroes (or more) as much as they want, but at the end of the day.. At the end of the day, they’re just that. Villains. 

Felix may sound sweet and worried, and she may still be in love with him to an agonizing amount, but Marinette is committed to not learning that lesson a second time.

~~~~~~

Felix brushed a hand against his vest as he slipped his tablet into his bag. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d grown to wearing the peacock miraculous. Without it on, his outfit felt.. incomplete. 

“Do you think we can make it to that restaurant in time?” Allegra asked to no one in particular, wrapping her purse around her shoulder.

“If Felix gets his driver to take us.” Claude replied with a smile.

Felix glanced up from his bag. “Oh, I can’t join you for lunch today.”

Claude snorted. “Come on, Fe, you can’t get out of it that easily.”

“Yeah, you should have learned that when you tried a lame excuse last semester.” Allan added with a smile.

Felix rolled his eyes. “No, I really can’t. I’m having lunch with Marinette today.”

The group paused, their eyes widening from shock.

Then-

“What?!” Claude burst out.

“You finally got together!” Allegra cheered. 

“When did that happen?” Allan asked.

Felix waved down their reactions, along with his own guilt. “It’s not like that. In fact, I..”

Her near-murderous glare resurfaced in his mind.

“I don’t think it’s going to work out between us.” He admitted softly.

The group frowned, each sharing a look with the other.

“But you guys are perfect together.” Allegra attempted to console. “You’ve gotten along wonderfully so far.”

“She accepted your offer to lunch, right?” Claude added. “That’s a good sign.”

Felix held back a bitter laugh. They were not talking about the same situation.

Allan gave him a gentle pat on the back. “Don’t worry, man. If you love her, and she loves you, everything will turn out fine.”

But is love enough to overcome betrayal?

He hoped he was wrong when he said he didn’t think so.

“I’ll see you after lunch.” Was all Felix ended up muttering. Marinette would be waiting for him. No need to break her trust in him further, if that was even possible. 

“Bye..” Allegra said, a hint of concern in her tone. Felix was concerned too. Not only had he lied to Father about his knowledge of Ladybug’s identity, he had secretly stolen Ladybug’s earrings, and now he was giving them back, all without Father's consent. This was no doubt the best course of action, but that didn’t mean the consequences would be any less severe. Felix imagined he’d be pulled from school when Father found out and grounded from everything. Marinette would most certainly be banned from their premises a second time. 

He’d backed himself into a corner, and the only option now was to race against the clock and heal Emilie before Gabriel could figure out their plan and unleash his rage. 

-

Courage was the first thing to go as Felix approached Marinette’s table. She’d chosen to eat outside, taking the table furthest from the school grounds. It gave them the most privacy without actually leaving. He wouldn’t expect anything less from the clever Ladybug, but it pained him that she felt the need to take such precautions. 

Quietly, he set his bag on the ground next to the chair across from her and sat down. Marinette didn’t react. She merely sat there scribbling something in a notebook. He peered over the paper as best he could without standing and managed to catch a couple of words.

Escape Plan.

Felix looked down at his hands, shame churning and twisting inside him. So there really was no trust left between them, huh?

“How were your classes?” He asked, if only to break the soul-crushing silence.

Marinette shot him a glare immediately. “Don’t act like you care.”

Felix tensed. “I-” I do care. So much. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

Marinette scoffed and set down her pencil. Or rather, slammed it on the table in annoyance. “You want to talk? Fine. Who’s Hawkmoth? How did you two become partners?”

Felix grimaced. She always managed to ask the hardest questions. “That’s a.. long story.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes, and he could tell he’d given the wrong answer. What else could he do, though? Hawkmoth was his Father. Felix couldn’t just give him up.

“Fine.” She said, pure agitation in her voice now. “How did you know who I was? What gave me away.” 

“Ah, well..” He might as well tell her, right? They both knew each other’s identities so what was the harm? “Yesterday, after the akuma attack, I saw you swinging off alone and thought I’d follow you-”

“Wait.” Marinette interrupted, her eyebrows knitted together. “Did you say yesterday?”

Felix nodded. “We’d been planning to follow you for a while, but Chat Noir always got in the way. Yesterday was the first time I’d been able to catch you alone. That’s when I saw you transform.”

A mix of emotions washed over her features, mostly skepticism. “So you mean to tell me that you haven’t known Marinette was Ladybug this whole time? That you only found out last night, a few hours before you stole my miraculous?”

Now Felix was frowning. “Yes? Did you think I would risk saving you or coming to your house as Le Paon if I knew you were Ladybug? I can be reckless, but I’m not that reckless.”

Marinette didn’t reply. She stared down at her notebook, lost in deep thought. When she finally spoke, though, it was soft, and he almost had to lean forward to hear it. 

“Then why?”

“Pardon?” What did she mean ‘why’?

Marinette looked up, and Felix’s heart sank when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. 

“Why?” She repeated, harsher and louder than before. “Why waste all those nights coming to my house or talking with me at school if you didn’t know who I was? What was the point if not to get close enough to take the earrings for the wish?” 

“Marinette, I..” Felix trailed off, frozen by her sudden grief. She looked so desperate, so broken, and he did this to her. 

He reached out to her, touched her hand to comfort or relieve or something, but she pulled away.

“Why say you love me,” She whispered, looking back down at her notebook, “if you didn’t mean it?”

Felix almost shot out of his chair at the accusation. Was this what she’d been telling herself since yesterday? That all of their times together, their not-quite-dates, their kiss, his love.. was some sort of elaborate lie to get jewelry? No wonder she was furious! He’d be beside himself if he found out she was lying to him like that!

“Marinette,” He began carefully, “I know our friendship is currently unpleasant and shaky at best, but please trust me when I say that I meant every word I said to you.” 

Marinette sniffed and brushed a few stray tears away. Each one dropped another anchor on Felix’s heart. 

“How can I?” She asked after a moment. “How can I trust you when you didn’t trust me? We spent months together, Felix! We had sleepovers and deep, late night talks and ate ice cream together and supported each other over everything. After all of that, why would you-” Her quiet sob cut her short, and she shook her head. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Now that was a question. Why didn’t he just talk to her? He thought he was avoiding hurt by taking the earrings quickly, but that obviously failed. He may have avoided physical injuries, but he’d much rather those at this point. 

No, the real reason was that Felix didn’t want to be torn over whether he should continue to save his mother or not. He had the miraculous. He had the wish. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel and didn’t want to know if the light would be dimmer than he’d originally thought.

“I was a coward.” He admitted, burying his hand in his hair. “After missing my Mother and wishing her back for so long, I was afraid of what you would tell me when I told you the truth. I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that the miraculous might not bring her back.”

Gosh, he’d made so many mistakes. He shouldn’t have accepted the peacock miraculous. He shouldn’t have let his Father terrorize the city for so long in a misguided cause. He shouldn’t have procrastinated about talking to Ladybug for possible peace. He shouldn’t have kept fighting when he learned that Adrien was Chat Noir. He shouldn’t have taken Marinette’s earrings when he learned the truth. He just shouldn’t have.

Marinette sighed, bringing him from his thoughts. “Okay.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “Okay?”

Marinette brushed the last bit of tears from her eyes and nodded. “I can’t say that I completely trust you yet, but.. If you’re serious about this, I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Felix’s heart skipped a beat.

“T-That’s all I need!” He promised. Talking with him during lunch had been better than he’d dreamed. Giving him another chance was an absolute miracle for him. “Thank you.”

Marinette didn’t answer. With the conversation more or less finished, she pulled out her lunch box to start eating. It was then that Felix’s own stomach growled, and he coughed. The tension from their predicament caused him to forget the reason they were able to meet outside and talk in the first place.

“So.. I have a question.” Felix said as he pulled out his own lunch. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Marinette briefly glanced up from her soup. “..I guess.” 

Felix drew in a small breath. “Assuming you didn’t follow me like I did you.. how did you know who I was?”

Marinette jokingly sucked in a breath between her teeth, giving a ‘yikes’ expression. “Yeah~ my discovery wasn’t as nice as a simple stalking.”

Felix smiled. Seeing her jest brought him a small, renewed sense of hope that everything might turn out okay between them after all. “So? What happened?”

“Remember that night you came to my house after getting shot?” 

He actually grimaced and touched his side. “Do I? If I didn’t have Duusu, I’d still be wincing every time I breathed.”

“About that..” Marinette said, pulling on her pigtail slightly. “I may or may not have actually been the one to heal you.”

Felix blinked. That.. that made a lot of sense. “But Duusu never mentioned anything about you healing me?”

Marinette dropped her pigtail to push her fingers together as she explained, “When you passed out on my bed, you ended up detransforming too. That’s how I figured out your identity. Of course, I freaked out a bit, but you were still bleeding so I put that aside for the time being.”

A small smile crossed Felix’s lips. Only Marinette could push through a ‘huge reveal’ like that and talk as if it were nothing.

“It was around that time that my powers activated and healed your wound. Duusu was very sweet about the whole thing, and after a small conversation, she promised not to say anything unless you asked specifically.” Marinette finished. “You have no idea how frustrating it was. I couldn’t talk to you about the miraculous because I wasn’t ready to reveal myself yet, but you wouldn’t talk to Ladybug.”

Felix let out a sheepish laugh. “Right.. I’m sorry I put you through that.” 

Marinette shrugged. “Can’t take it back now.”

Felix nodded. No matter the amount of regret and guilt welling up inside him, he couldn’t change the past. He supposed he could soothe himself by saying it wasn’t all bad, though. Taking the peacock miraculous was undoubtedly a horrible decision, but it led to him seeing Marinette on a more personal level, which then led to a more personal friendship between them. Well, for him it did. She wasn’t aware of his identity at the time.

“Hold on.” Felix spoke up, sitting up slightly at his miniature revelation. “You said you figured out my identity when I passed out from the gunshot. That means you knew who I was when I kissed you.”

A blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheeks. “Well.. yes.”

“And you kissed me back.”

Her blush deepened. “Yep.”

Felix’s heart pounded in his chest. “So.. what does that mean?”

It was selfish and unfair to ask her such questions during these trying times, and some might say it should be obvious by now, but he wanted- no, he needed the confirmation. Did she love him or not?

“I..” Marinette fiddled with her utensil as she searched for words. “It’s complicated. I can’t say that I don’t love you-”

Felix sucked in a quiet breath. 

“-but it’s different now.” She answered honestly. “I just.. I need time. I’m still on the edge because of what you did, you know?” 

“Take all the time you need.” Felix responded, hoping his eagerness didn’t bleed through his voice. Marinette loved him! I mean, they’ve already kissed, like, twice, but still! Just to hear it from her lips made his heart nearly burst. 

A small smile graced Marinette’s lips, and she went back to eating, as Felix did a moment later. It was hard to eat when one’s entire body was buzzing with euphoria, though.

The bell rang a few minutes later, causing them to say their farewells to each other and separate. Felix knew there were still a decent amount of trials left to face before this was over, but after that confession.. He couldn’t help feeling a tad optimistic.

~~~~~~

It was commonplace for students to flood out of the classroom at the end of their last class, and although Marinette usually picked up the pace to leave, she was certain she’d made record time that day. Felix must have had the same idea, because he was at her side within seconds as well. She offered him a small glance, acknowledging his presence, but nothing more. 

The conversation they’d shared over lunch had been relieving to say the least. When he essentially told her that he still loved her, she nearly sank to the floor with the amount of weight that’d been suddenly lifted from her shoulders. That meant this dwindled down to Felix wanting to save his Mother and making the wrong decision to do so. However, Marinette didn’t want to let her guard down just yet. She had no way of knowing how informed Hawkmoth was on the situation. Even if Felix means well, there might be traps lying ahead of her at the Agreste Mansion that he’s unaware of. 

“By the way,” Felix spoke up, earning her gaze again, “Father may or may not have banned you from our house after your last visit, meaning we’ll have to be careful about your entrance.” 

Marinette pursed her lips. That probably shouldn’t surprise her. “When did this ‘banishment’ happen?”

Felix’s eyes flicked up briefly in thought. “Uh.. I think a few weeks ago? I meant to tell you before today, but things kept coming up.”

Marinette hummed, knowing the exact ‘things’ he was referring to.

“Oh, Marinette’s coming with us today?” 

Marinette turned to the new voice and saw Adrien exiting the classroom. She almost forgot that he’d be riding with them.

“She wanted to borrow a book from our Library,” Felix answered smoothly, “So I invited her over.”

Adrien smiled. “Great! I have to practice piano, but I trust Felix to help you out.” 

“Thanks.” Marinette said politely. I hope I can trust him too.

“So how did you get Father to agree to this?” Adrien asked next, mostly facing Felix now.

Marinette didn’t miss the subtle look of agitation that Felix shot his brother. 

“He doesn’t know.”

Adrien’s eyes widened, and an amused smirk slipped onto his lips. “Oh? How do you plan to get her inside then?”

Marinette crossed her arms, a smirk of her own creeping up. She’d like to know that answer as well.

Felix playfully rolled his eyes. “I have my ways.”

-

A shiver ran up Marinette’s spine as Felix led her through the back entrance to the Agreste Mansion. Who would’ve thought that the only secret way in and out was a walk-in freezer that connected to the outside world? It made her wonder how Felix managed to come across this little escape tactic. Was it pure coincidence? A mere observation when orders arrived? Or had he been actively searching for a hidden exit?

Goosebumps crawled across her skin, and she gave in slightly to the cold, letting herself shudder and rubbing her hands against her biceps for warmth.

Felix glanced over his shoulder at her, seeming blissfully untouched by the drop in temperature. “Are you cold?”

“What? Being cold in a freezer? Of course not! I was just about to take off my jacket.” Marinette retorted. 

Felix chuckled, his breath clouding in front of him. “I see we’ve resorted to sarcasm now? You must truly be at your limit.”

“Yes, it’s been a long day for all of us, I’m sure.” Marinette replied, pulling her jacket tighter around her.

Felix reached ahead and pushed open another metal door, revealing the kitchen area of the Mansion on the other side. Marinette didn’t hesitate to dash through the doorway. She shuddered again as the room temperature wrapped around her, neutralizing the previous chill of the air. Sweet, blessed heat.

“Is that better?” Felix asked, closing the metal door behind him.

Marinette nodded. “Much better, thank you.”

Felix offered a smile. “Of course. The library’s right around the corner.” 

The two made their way out of the kitchen and down the hall. Felix checked for Gabriel’s secretary or Gabriel himself, and when he called the all clear, they slipped into the library together. 

Marinette caught a glimpse of Adrien walking up the stairs as they moved. He noticed her too and shot her a wink. Marinette allowed herself a small smile at the sight. At least Adrien wasn’t knee-deep involved in this miraculous mess.

“Thank you for doing this.” Felix commented as he walked to one of the aisles. “It really does mean the world to me that you’re still willing to help Mother after everything we’ve done.”

Marinette shrugged, not missing the fact that he said ‘we’. It seemed strange that he would group Hawkmoth in with his actions in relation to his mother, as if this might have been a goal for his partner as well. “I’m the hero of Paris, right? I have a responsibility. I can’t just turn my back on the people who need me.”

Felix nodded. “Right..”

He stopped at the end of an aisle and brushed his fingers across the second to top shelf. Once he got to a certain point, Felix stopped and pulled out a couple of books. Behind the books lay a rectangle outline on the back of the shelf. Marinette watched with awe as he easily pulled the rectangle out of the wall, revealing a small drawer.

“When did you make that?” She asked, marveling at the detail.

“Well, when you have a Father like mine, you learn to-” Felix stopped short, his body stiffening.

Marinette frowned and took a step forward. “Felix? Are you okay?”

Felix didn’t respond, instead staring down at the drawer in disbelief. 

“They’re.. They’re gone.”

Marinette’s heart stopped.

“Gone?” She repeated. “What do you mean gone?”

“I-I mean gone!” Felix said, his voice quickly rising in panic. “They were right here! I put them in this pocket and went to bed, and I haven’t touched them since!”

Marinette to control her breathing as she took in his words. If the earrings weren’t here, where were they? “Felix, if this is some kind of trick-”

“No! I swear they were right here!”

“Indeed they were.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold when Gabriel’s voice rose behind them. Felix shot up as well, pure terror exploding across his face. The sight unnerved her to the core. She’d never seen Felix so scared.

“I’ll admit I’m impressed.” Gabriel mused. “That little drawer of yours is a magnificent hiding place. Had it not been for our security cameras, I don’t believe I would have found it.”

Marinette’s gaze flicked to the ceiling, where a tiny camera was placed. A touch of annoyance swirled through her mind. She should have known there would be cameras everywhere.

“I have to say I’m disappointed, Felix.” The man continued. “I gave you the opportunity to help your poor, sick Mother, and what do you do? You lie and go behind your own Father’s back. I wasn’t even aware you knew who Ladybug was, let alone that you got her earrings.”

Despite the fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through her, along with the steadily growing horror, Marinette turned to face Gabriel. The news that Felix had been acting of his own accord the entire time surprised her, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. Only two people aside from herself and Felix knew about Felix’s motives or the fact that he was Le Paon, and Gabriel Agreste certainly wasn’t Master Fu. 

“Hawkmoth.” She said, her hands clenching at her sides. It wasn’t a question.

Gabriel looked down at her, a disturbing, small smile creeping onto his lips. He didn’t appear to be bothered in the slightest that she’d discovered his identity. 

She felt Felix take a step closer to her.

“Ah, Mlle. Dupain Cheng.” Gabriel purred. His eyes shined with absolute glee in a horrible, psychotic way, like he’d finally lured his prey into the perfect trap. “I thought I made it quite clear that you are not welcome on my estate, but my son clearly has trouble following the rules. However, I have to wonder: Why would he bring you to the miraculous’ hiding place? Perhaps Felix decided to show me Ladybug’s identity after all.”

“Father that’s enough.” Felix stated sternly, finally regaining his voice. He stepped around Marinette, putting a make-shift barrier between her and Gabriel. “There’s no need to fight. Marinette has a solution to heal Mother without the wish! She just needs her earrings back to do it.”

Gabriel scoffed, his smile immediately fading. “Don’t be naive. She only wants her earrings back! You think she won’t say anything to get them?”

Marinette saw the edges of Felix’s expression fall.

“Isn’t it worth trying?” He continued, his voice falling from stern to pleading. “We can’t use the wish, or someone else will get hurt. There’s a curse that comes with it. If we save her life with the wish, someone has to take her place.”

“You wouldn’t sacrifice anything to have her back? To be a family again?” Gabriel shot back. 

“Not when we don’t have to!” Felix countered. “We don’t even have Chat Noir’s ring yet. The least we can do is try to heal her peacefully without consequences!”

“So you’re choosing that brat over me? Your Father?” Gabriel asked, his eyes narrowing with disgust and disapproval. 

Felix clenched his fists. “You’re choosing to sacrifice someone’s life over saving everyone!”

“No.” Marinette spoke up, having enough. How could a father pull their own son into terrorist attacks? How could he push Felix into danger time and time again with no remorse? It was unspeakable!

She stepped forward and stood tall as she continued, “He only wants the power. This stopped being about Emilie and family a long time ago.”

Gabriel scowled. “How dare you question my integrity! Losing Emilie was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I will do anything to get her back!”

“Where are my miraculous?” She demanded, ignoring his ‘righteous fury’.

“Safe.” He responded sharply. “And out of your reach.”

“I won’t let you use the wish.”

A grim smile twisted onto Gabriel’s lips once more. “I’d like to see you try now that you’re powerless.”

Marinette was tempted to smile herself as she grabbed the peacock miraculous from her back pocket. “Not quite.”

Let’s see what Felix miraculous can really do.

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[moeblob]

Why do you ship Hubert and Ingrid (not trying to sound rude, just genuinely curious)

Basic as heck answer that I started with: They lack a support which is rather rude of the game.

Longer answer: A lot of the supports / ships I see and like a lot (that actually have supports mind you) involve ~effort~ by both characters who clash at first. Not even like fighting clash, but just..... don’t mix well based on personality. And so I think that the two during school phase would probably clash A LOT. I mean, it’s student phase Hubert, who doesn’t he clash with. But thinking of his methods of wanting to do anything and everything to help Edelgard vs Ingrid (who admires knights and I think in her B or B+ with Dimitri even says that a knight dying to protect is not a needless death) would be very willing to say the same for someone she swears loyalty to. While she doesn’t have the exact same dedication to Dimitri as Hubert has to Edelgard, I still see her being one of the more willing to fight for him as a choice.

The two have very different methods and views and would absolutely clash in school and they also try to ‘correct’ various students’ behaviors. Ingrid lecturing Claude / Hubert trying to quiet Caspar’s yelling habits among others. (So missed opportunity on mutual annoyed corrections in the school phase thanks.)

Overall, they just................. seem to kind of work similar in the end? And they look good together in my opinion (which is a big factor since I draw them together... gotta look good). 

AND FINALLY let the guy with a fear of heights who wanted to be a pegasus rider DATE the pegasus rider and let them work on that fear together I’m dying cause even if they only had a C/B support, we could have had her trying to tell him ‘it’s not that bad’ and terrorizing him in the process. I feel robbed.

[thiswasinevitableid]

A New Era of Gods and Monsters (Indruck)

Prompt for the 21st was: Monster Movie. Behold my old hollywood AU, featuring a title from the Bride of Frankenstein and a universe in which Transphobia doesn’t exist by the Hayes Code does. It is NSFW

February 20th, 1935.

Tinsel Town is abuzz with news that promising young director Joseph Stern is starting work on a new horror picture. The latest announcements from Kepler Studios state that it will rival the director's previous smash monster chiller “Nightmare Woods.” No news as of yet as to who will star, and who may be donning greasepaint and false fangs to play the creature. Only time will tell, but we look forward to whatever terrifying delights he has in store. Assuming, of course, that he does not run afoul of the censors. 

“Homoeroticism!” Stern tosses the warning from the Hayes office onto his desk, “that's what they sent me a warning about Ned! There wasn't even any in the picture.” 

“You know how these modesty police are, dear boy; they see depravity where there is none yet are so out of touch they do not recognize the very things they're afraid of when they are present. Now that you’ve been scolded, how do you wish to proceed?”

“In whatever way won’t get me fired. There's a fine line between the kind of censor uproar that drives publicity and the kind that the studio heads think is too risky.”

“As your producer, I support you entirely in whatever you choose. And I'm happy to apply my considerable eloquence to soothing the concerns of those who sign our paychecks.”

Stern flops down in his desk chair, staring at the almost complete script in a tidy stack. 

“If we’re going to gamble, the more big names I can get the better. I think it’s time to call in my favor from Amnesty Pictures. After that, well; if they’re going to complain about homoeroticism, we may as well give them something to really complain about.” 

----------------------------

A month later, Stern sits at a large table in the studio meeting room, the bulk of his cast already thumbing through their scripts and chatting quietly to one another. Some of them, such as Aubrey Little and Moira Redfeld, are contract players to Kepler, ones he snatched up for this picture before anyone could interfere. There are also two on loan from Amnesty,  a trade off for the time he and Ned worked their Hollywood contacts to help Mama, the studio head, raise money to fund the film that put the studio on the map. 

His own relationship with Mama’s right hand man, Barclay, who acted as their go-between in those early days, may have helped his case. 

The first player on loan is Dani Coulice, who’ll play Aubrey's dear friend and confidant who accompanies her to the house of her mysterious uncle. Dani has an understated charm on screen and, judging by the eyes she’s making at Aubrey, the two women will be able to pull off the romantic subtext he needs them to with ease.

And then there’s Indrid Cold. His first appearance in The Smiling Man drew quick comparisons to Claude Raines, Bella Lugosi and, more importantly, to the great Lon Chaney. Not only does the actor design and apply his own character make-up, he embodies his monsters and murderers in a way that leaves the audience hiding beneath their covers for days.

Stern knew the moment he and Kirby began working on the script that no one but Indrid Cold could play the titular Dr. Nacht. Now all that's missing from the table is…

“Sorry I’m late Joe. We ran long shootin the sword fight.” A southern drawl and apologetic smile announce the entrance of his other leading man. A man who's trained for years under two mentors to follow in their footsteps as swashbucklers, knights, soldiers. The man who is often described as destined to save the day, regardless of the picture. 

When you wanted a monster, you got Indrid Cold. When you wanted a hero, you hired Duck Newton. 

Which is why Stern remains surprised that Duck took this role so readily. He wants him for it, thinks he’s just the man to balance Indrid's aloof, otherworldly demeanor. But this time, his character won’t emerge triumphant. 

---------------------------------------

Duck cannot fuck this up. It’s a goddamn miracle Joe offered it to him at all, given that he’s never done horror before, the studio not wanting to waste him on something so strange. There was a time when Duck would have steered clear of it too, but he trusts Joe, and the rest of the cast is strong. And the leading men in these pictures are never the heroes Duck is used to; they’re scientists, good men in over their heads, soldiers carrying the mental wounds of the war. They’re something new. 

The only thing that worries him is Indrid Cold. Amnesty Pictures is known for darker, more daring fare than most studios, and Indrid always seems to be in the mix. His reputation is one of eccentric artistry, something Duck has little patience for. 

It’s been alright so far, the first weeks mainly getting costume tests and memorizing lines, and Indrid is polite but aloof. When Duck mentions this to Dani, she takes her eyes of Aubrey long enough to shrug, “He’s up in his own head a lot, he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Today they’re shooting the arrival of his character, Henry Harper, at the lonely country estate of Dr. Edward Nacht. The doctor is Eliza’s (played by Aubrey) uncle, and she’s traveling to stay with him along with her dearest friend, Lucy (played by Dani). Henry and Eliza are ostensibly betrothed, but the script makes only the barest mention of it, putting Duck opposite Indrid and Aubrey opposite Dani in most scenes. 

Joe’s instructions are to play Harper as a classic, bland, heroic lead for the first third of the film, and he gets himself into that headspace as they take their positions.

“Now remember, Aubrey, you’re the only one who’s even little used to your uncle's mannerisms, so you should be genuinely happy to see him. Right, here we go, action!”

The trio pretends to startle at the massive mansion door shutting on its own, turning in sync to look behind themselves. 

“That’s the trouble with these old houses; they have a mind of their own.”

Indrid stands at the top of the staircase, eyes uncovered for the first time since they met. Head held high, dark suit contrasting with his pale hair and sharp features, he grins at them as he descends the steps. It’s commanding and unnerving, the actor managing to convey something odd lurking beneath his veneer of gentility.

Aubrey runs to greet him, saying her lines as Dani and Duck trail behind her. He only ends up at the right mark thanks to watching Dani  from the corner of his eye; the rest of his attention is locked on Indrid. 

“This is my dear friend, Lucy Price.”

“Wonderful to meet you, any friend of my niece is welcome in these halls.” Indrid takes Dani’s and, kissing it with a friendly smile. 

“And this is Mr. Harper, my finance.” 

The smile widens as Indrid offers his hand, Duck taking it as the blocking dictates. There’s a beat where Indrid guides it upwards, as if intending to kiss it. Then he stops, shaking it instead. 

“A pleasure to have you here, Mr. Harper. It seems my niece shares her mother's fine taste in men.”

It takes him a moment to remember he’s not supposed to stand transfixed.

“I look forward to gettin to know you, doctor.”

Indrid steps back, still grinning, “if you three will follow me, I will show you to your rooms.”

“Cut!”

Christ, that was awful, he should have played that more confident, more in control-

“That was perfect Duck, just the right approach.”

“Oh, uh, thanks Joe.”

“I must admit I am pleasantly surprised.” Indrid adds. 

“How so?” Duck looks up at him.

“Simply that quipping whilst swinging a sword about does not always result in someone who can convey complex emotions on screen.”

“Now wait just a fuckin second-”

“I, ah, I was trying to be complimentary.” Indrid almost sounds like he means it. 

Duck crosses his arms, “Oh yeah? Then I guess I oughta say I’m impressed a fella who runs around covered in monster make-up most of the time can actually emote.”

“That was uncalled for.”

“You started it.”

“I did not mean to start anything!”

“Gentlemen, if we could continue with our shooting” Ned’s voice cuts in and Duck turns to see half the soundstage string to them. 

“Uh, right, sorry. Always get  little, uh, tense on the first day. Right, Indrid?”

Indrid rises n unimpressed eyebrow, “Where shall we take it from?”

----------------------------------------------

It doesn't get better after that first day. 

Duck tries, he really does, and he can tell Indrid is doing the same. But the longer they work together, the more often they snap at one another in between scenes. 

“What were you two arguing bout now?” Aubrey says as they walk to the parking lot one evening. 

“We, uh, well he, uh, huh. I can't remember.”

She shakes her head, “Yep, that's what I thought.”

They’re  third of the way through the shoot, and it's going on ten at night, Joe trying to get as much done as he can before another picture borrows the set for two days.

Duck and Indrid are the only actors remaining, working on the scene where Henry, having agreed to help the doctor in his work, confronts him over the nature of the experiments. Once they finish this scene, they’re done, but Indrid keeps tripping over the word “indomitable.”  

When he fucks it up for the fourth time, Duck drops his head into his hands, “fuck’s sake, it ain’t that hard.”

“That’s rather rich coming from someone whose accent ought to have rendered him obsolete at the advent of talking pictures.” Indrid replies dryly. 

“Fuck you.” 

Indrid straightens up, ready with a retort, when Joe shouts for them to retake their places and try again. 

“You are meddlin with forces you don’t understand, doctor. Forces that are a mystery for a reason.”

“Do not underestimate me, Mr. Harper. Man is far more powerful, far more capable than scholars or priests would have you believe.” Indrid steps towards him, voice cool and smile detached, “we are no better than beasts if we cower in the shadows of ignorance, never daring to dream of what may be within our reach. Man was meant to question, Mr. Harper, meant to search and create. Man is indomitable.” His grin brightens not only from correctly pronouncing the word, but as part of the scene; because Duck is hesitating, won over for an instant by his speech. 

Duck shakes his head, “Dreams and questions are all well and good, but they all come to nothin if you barrel forward without a thought for the harm you might do. No, doctor, while we're here, I forbid you from such experiments. I won’t have Eliza in such danger, nor will I risk her losing her remaining family.”

Indrid cocks his head, amused, “You forbid it?” 

Duck tilts his head up to meet his eyes, “I do.”

His back slams into the laboratory counter, Indrids hands gripping it on either side of him.

“Perhaps I have been unclear, Henry. I am the master here, not you.” Slender fingers grip Duck’s lapels, tugging him nose to nose with Indrid, “you would do well to remember that.”

“Cut! Perfect, thank the lord, so we can finally get out of here.” Joe’s voice snaps Duck back into the soundstage, but Indrid hasn’t let go, is instead eyeing Duck’s face, tongue coming out to wet his lips. 

How long has Duck been breathing this hard? 

Indrid release his hold, smoothing down the front of Ducks jacket. He frowns, “You’re shaking. Are you ill?”

“N-nope.”

Unconvinced, Indrid touches his forehead, “You feel rather warm. Please tell me you are going home rather than out to paint the town?”

Duck wants to tell him to mind his own damn business. All that comes out is, “Yeah, might just straight sleep through til Sunday. You rest up too, y’hear?”

Indrid smiles, “I will do my best.”

---------------------------------------

“Catching up on some correspondence?”

Duck sets down his pen as Indrid sits at the lunch table across from him, “My sister moved back out to West Virginia not that long ago, and I promised I’d keep her up to date on everythin goin on out here.”

“Is she younger or older than you?”

“Younger by four years. You, uh, you got any siblin’s?”

“No. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, so I have a cousin instead. Here, I think I might have a picture.” The taller man pulls out a notebook, flipping through it, “ah, there he is.”

“Christ, if I couldn’t see the smudge up there, I’d think that was a fuckin photo.”

“Thank you.” Indrid dips his head, tucking the notebook back into his jacket pocket, “I mostly keep that on me in case I am struck by a new creature design, but it has other uses.”

“Where’s your family from?”

“Germany, originally, then the Salinas valley.”

“Told it’s real beautiful up there.”

“It has its moments, fewer now that they’ve found oil.”

“What’s your favorite?”

Indrid tells him, talks about the nearby mountains and traveling down to the coast, about hitchhiking his way to Los Angeles because he felt foolish asking for the money for a bus ticket when most of the family thought his journey was pointless.

“Sure proved them wrong.” Duck nudges his ankle playfully under the table. 

“I suppose.”

After that conversation, Duck likes his days on set even better. The chair reading “Indrid Cold'' is now next to his more often than not, the two of them running lines or talking about gardens and art between takes. They bring in a black cat--meant to be the doctor’s pet-- for several days of shooting, and Indrid laughs whenever Duck picks it up and coos over it, smile fading to a gentle, shy expression when he catches Duck looking. 

And when Joe instructs them to brush hands, or let their gaze linger too long on each other during scenes, Duck hopes they’ll have to do take after take. 

Today the set is full of excitement, as it’s the first time Indrid will appear in his full monster make-up; he’s shot two scenes in shadows, hinting at the horror of it as he takes innocent life on the moors. Now, Duck will enter the laboratory and see first hand the results of the doctor’s experiments. 

“Action!”

Duck steps into the darkened room, equipment flashing and test-tubes billowing smoke. 

“Doctor, there’s been another death in the village, and you’re the police are asking for your help. They say it’s like nothin they ever seen before.”

Heavy footfalls and the scrape of nails on metal signal Indrid’s approach, but he’s not to turn until the actor speaks. 

“Doctor, can you hear me?” He looks around, worried, then calls hesitantly, “Edward?”

“Hello, Henry.”

He turns and yells in fright, hand flying to cover his mouth. Where there once was an elegant, odd figure, now a massive nightmare looms out of the darkness. Indrid’s mouth stretches wide, curve fangs protruding from either corner, face coated in bloodied, feathered scales, and claws reaching for Duck. 

“Edward what” he staggers backward,s “what in god's name have you done?”

“What I set out to do, my dear Henry. Can you not see that?” Indrid giggles with the hysteria of a man consumed by bitter disappointment, “perhaps you should come closer.”

“Stay back, I’m warnin you-”

Indrid lunges, snarling, and Duck throws himself out of the way, hitting first the edge of something sharp and then the ground

“Fuck!” 

“Cut!”

“Oh dear, are you hurt? Here, let me help-”

Duck holds up a hand, gritting his teeth, “You stay right where you are. Fuck, christ,” the hand gripping his leg comes away spotted with blood, “what the fuck, that wasn’t in the blockin!”

“Joseph said he trusted me to improvise my movements, to maximize the tension.”

“You gotta fuckin warn me about shit like that, all my movement is backwards, meanin I can’t see where I’m goin.”

“I assumed a man who made his living fighting knew how to use his peripheral vision.”

“How bad is it?” Dewey, one of the camera men, helps Duck up as Stern approaches them. 

“Give there’s  a bloodstain on our set, enough to send him over to the medical office. I'm calling it for the night . I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Joe runs a hand through his hair, levels them both with a warning look before turning back to dismiss the crew. 

It’s not all that bad once he’s out of the torn pants and gets it cleaned off. When he gets back to the dressing room to retrieve his coat and hat, there’s a large black case, like  fisherman's tackle box. It’s what Indrid calls his toolkit, full of the tools and tricks he uses to turn himself into a monster. He once called it his most prized possession. 

Duck switches off the light, has the door halfway shut before he stops. Groaning in frustration at his own decency, he turns and grabs the box from the floor. 

-------------------------------

“This had better be important” Indrid calls through the apartment door, “I must go back out for something and do not have time to waste.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be goin out for your toolkit?” Duck says dryly. 

The door flies open, revealing Indrid in a black dressing gown, face a bit pink, no doubt from scrubbing off all his monster make-up. 

“Yes.” He snatches the box away by it’s handle, hurrying over to the table and leaving Duck in the doorway, “you didn’t touch anything did you? Or show it to anyone else?” His head whips over his shoulder, red glasses slipping down his nose to reveal a hard, suspicious glare. 

“No, I didn’t touch a damn thing.” Duck steps over the threshold, shutting the door and tossing his hat onto the couch, “and you're welcome.”

Indrid inhales deeply, “I, I apologize. The tricks I developed, my techniques, my materials, practically all of it is in this box. If someone else were to get  hold of it, replicate my effects, my career would be over.”

“What are you talkin about?”

The taller man sighs, turning his back and heading into his bedroom, “I do not expect you to understand.”

Duck is ready to tear his hair out, stalks into the bedroom after him, “Fuck’s sake Indrid, do you think you’re the only fella here with the brains to understand shit?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

“No, I really don’t. What do you want from me, Indrid? Most days you’re palin’ round with me, then you act like you think I’m some sheltered idiot who’s had everything handed to him.”

“Because you have” Indrids hands could be conducting  symphony for how much they move s he continues, “you had mentors, people who told you from a young age that you had a place in this business, who carved out roles for you and handed down their skills, their legacies. I had nothing, I had to make my way based on skill and luck alone.”

“Were the fuck do you get off assumin that sort thing bout me? At lest you got some fuckin say in the way your career went. Minerva had it all planned out for me, hell, at the start I fought hard to do somethin other than those hero parts.”

The anger on Indrid’s face flickers, “Why did you stop?”

 “Because I didn’t wanna end up with nothin! As you keep pointin out” he steps towards Indrid, jabbing a finger into his chest, “my kind are a dime a dozen in this town.”

“Which means you can get any part you choose! You are the kind of man everyone loves. God help me if horror ever falls from favor, I will be back in dust of the farmland in an instant.” 

Duck growls at the sorry ploy for sympathy, “Bullshit, you’re better on camera than anyone in this town.”

“That doesn’t matter! For goodness sake, Duck look at me!” He gestures wildly at his face, “without my monsters, without horror, I'm nothing. Amnesty might try to help me, but they’d soon find that unless they can be terrified of me, audiences have no use for Indrid Cold.” Resignation tinges his voice, and it kicks Duck’s anger out from under him. 

“Indrid, that ain’t true-”

“-No, it is very true”

“-will you let me fuckin finish?” Duck reaches for him, not certain what he means to do.

“I have no desire to-” Indrid moves his arm to push Duck’s away, and puts too much force behind it, losing his footing on the hardwood floor and falling backwards onto the bed. In attempting to recover his balance, one leg kicks out, knocking Duck forward. He catches himself with one knee on the mattress and his hands on either side of Indrid, pulling abruptly down on the dressing gown. When it opens, they both go still. 

“You, uh, why ain't you wearin anythin under this?”

“I was not aware I need to follow a dress code in my own blasted house.” Indrid manages through grit teeth, face turned resolutely away from Duck. He follows the angle of his jaw down the line of his neck, the noticeable points of collarbone, ribs, and hips beneath tan, sun-hungry skin making him think of fine china or rare plants, the kind you cultivate for years in hopes of seeing something no one else could ever dream of. 

“Would you kindly stop staring?” Indrid murmurs.

“Why?” Duck drags his gaze away from his body just as Indrid levels him with an exhausted frown.

“Fine, go ahead and get your fill so you can--in excruciating detail--tell anyone who is interested that I look just as strange without clothes as I do in them.”

“Is that really what you think I’m doin?”

“I have a hard time believing there could be...another..” He trails off s Duck leans down, cupping his cheek and bringing his other leg up to straddle him. 

“You sure about that belief?” He bumps their noses together. 

“I'm starting to have my doubts.” 

Duck snickers, carefully bringing their lips together. Indrid hums, wrapping his arms round Duck and running his hands along his back up into his hair. He’s kissed plenty of times, on and off screen, but Indrid is earnest and hesitant all at once, as if Duck is giving him a gift he’s not sure he deserves. He’s also wonderfully responsive, twitching and arching whenever Duck touches him, licking and nipping at his lips, begging to be let inside. Duck opens them, sighs when Indrid teases their tongues together. 

When he sits up, Indrids hands draw across his bare chest, concerned. 

“Don’t worry, darlin , I ain’t goin far.” He slides off the bed, sinking to his knees between Indrid’s legs s he pulls off his jacket, “Just seems to me you need someone to show just how fuckin handsome you are.”

“Are you oh-so-graciously volunteering?” Indrid’s smile is plain in his voice. 

He pushes up his sleeves, “Yep.”

Indrid’s cock is soft when he wraps his fingers around it, stroking up gradually to rub the head with his thumb. Licking along the underside turns Indrid’s so “ohs” into a full-throated moan. 

“That’s more like it, darlin.” Duck kisses up and down the shaft , slipping a hand lower to gently toy with his balls, “get hard for me.”

“Wh-what” Indrid gulps down a breath, “what makes you think you are in charge here?”

In lieu of an answer, he takes the head of is cock into his mouth, sucking hard, not letting up until pre-cum seeps along his tongue. Indrid’s hands cling to the edge of the bed, the room filling with high gasps and the odd squeak when Duck zig-zags his nails along his inner thigh. 

He pulls off, wiping away the string of spit trailing from his lips. Laps intermittently at his slit as he speaks, hoping his voice is coming across husky rather than desperate, “Well, sugar, what do you say? Gonna let me call the shots?”

“I s-say” One hand wavers in the air, about to stroke his hair, and Duck dips to the side, bumping his head into his palm in tacit permission. 

“I say a man on his, his knees giving orders is presumptuous.”

“Ah!Fuck” Duck groans as Indrid tugs his hair, forcing him to sit up straight.

“And I’d say his mouth could be put to an even better use.”

Duck scrambles onto the bed, kissing Indrid furiously as soon as he reaches him, the pale-haired man rolling them over and tangling them both in the top blanket with their feet still hanging off the bed. 

“Did I say you could stop paying attention to my cock? OOhhnnnn, yes, yes” he hooks a leg over Ducks thigh, pumping into the shorter man’s fist, “perfect, god, everything about you is, is just right.”

“I ain’t the only one.” Duck aims for his lips, ends up kissing his cheek, when he buries his face into his neck with a whine.

“It’s true. You think I go to my knees for any old fella?”

“Mphhm” Indrid’s glasses dig into his shoulder.

“You think I’d be doin this” he speeds up his hand, “if that face of yours didn’t make me wanna do things in front of those cameras that’d make the devil blush.”

“Mmhpmm”  Indrid clings to him like lichen yet refuses to look up. 

Duck stills his hand, “I ain’t startin up again unless you answer me, sugar.”

Indrid raises his head halfway, five o’clock shadow pricking Duck’s cheek.

“Duck Newton, I do believe you are telling the truth. You think I am handsome.” Shyness lurks just beneath the teasing, so Duck tenderly brushes his fingers along Indrid’s face.

“That I do.”

He raises up enough to bring them nose to nose, “And I think you put all other matinee idols to shame with only your smile.”

“Indrid.” It’s his turn to blush, and he only grows redder when Indrid guides his hand off his cock and to his lips to kiss it. 

“I have an idea. As much as these” he releases his hand to snap his suspenders, “flatter that broad chest of yours, they and your pants need to come off.”

As Duck exiles his clothes and shoes to the floor, Indrid lays with his head on a pillow, steadily stroking his cock. Staring at that sight adds a good minute to his undressing, but Duck doesn’t give a damn. 

When he goes to straddle Indrid’s hips, the other man shakes his head, “Nono, up here.” He pats the pillow on either side of his head. 

“Shit yeah, been wanting to fuck that stunnin face for weeks.”

Indrid’s face is beet-colored by the time Duck brackets it with his knees. 

“S-so have eye”

“Aw, sugar, you gettin tongue tiIIIIedfuck.” His palms thwack into the wall as Indrid circles it along his folds. 

“What was that about tongues?” His smirk is just visible between Duck’s thighs. 

“That if you don’t keep usin yours like that, you’re gonna see a grown man cry with need.”

“We cannot have that.’

“FUuuuuck, fuck.” He wiggles his hips to help Indrid get the right angle, unsure if he can ask for more pressure.

“You, you can put more weight down if you need.” 

He grinds down, moaning when Indrid’s lips part further to give his tongue more room to work. The moan is echoed below him, muffled though it may be, as one of Indrid’s hands disappears from view. A moment later, he bucks, gasping and laving his tongue along Duck’s dick. 

“Shit, right there, keep goin right there.”

Indrid curves and flicks his tongue along the sensitive skin, hums of pleasure mingling with the messy sound of his hand flying up and down his cock. When he closes his lips around his dick Duck yelps, hunches forward to rest his head on the wall as he sucks him off, pressure spiking deliciously whenever he moans or strokes himself harder. Indrid cums with a whimper, sticky hands landing on Duck’s ass to urge him on as he ruts into his mouth.

“That’s it sugar, fuck, you’re amazin, feels so fuckin good oh fuck, fuck, Indrid, fuckin christ.” He rolls his hips harder and faster until the friction makes the orgasm burst through him. He just manages to lift himself off and collapse on the bed rather than Indrid's neck. 

“Did, do you hear a, uh, a crack?”

Red glasses, a split across the right lens, appear in front of him. 

“Aw fuck” he giggles, “didn’t know I was goin that hard. Lemme buy you a new pair?”

“I have several spares, on account of my own occasionally absent mindedness” Indrid is up on his side, grinning down at him, face still shiny with slick, “and I am taking that as a testament to my skill. Perhaps I should wear them with pride to the set tomorrow.”

“Please don’t” Duck laughs harder, “fuck, can you imagine the look on Joe’s face”

Indrid is laughing too now, “They are not part of my costume, it would not affect the shoot. Save the part where the reminder of how you looked just now, flushed and ecstatic above me, would make it rather hard to focus.”

Duck shifts onto his side, nestling up against him, “you’re a real sweet talker, you know that?”

“You have that effect on me.” He feels him inhale more deeply, fingers toying with Duck’s hair, “would, ah, would you like to spend the night? I believe you are not needed tomorrow, and I am only needed in the evening.”

“I’d love to” Duck nudges him onto his back to better cuddle across his chest, “got no interest in sleepin alone any time soon.”

“Do, ah, do you mean you wish to, ah, to-”

“Yeah, I do. I wanna see what it’s like to have the finest man in the city on my arm. Assumin he wants the same thing.”

“You do not think I am snobbish and strange?”

“Not anymore than you think I’m spoiled and had it easy.”

Indrid kisses the top of his head, “Then I think this could be the start of something wonderful.”

--------------------------------------

Stern looks up from the script as his two leading men walk onto the set, arms linked and whispering to one another, each smiling wider than Laurel Canyon. He turns back to his notes. 

“About fucking time.”

[bigbrotherlouis]

i would love a directors cut for the first scrimmage scene from kinda like that this ends in smoke!

boy oh boy okay. i was very conscious while writing that this scene needed to do A Lot: it needed to establish, at least a little, what is standing in for a hockey game, establish the team fighting dynamic, and showcase patty’s powers. that last one, in particular, needed to be really sharp because it sets up the conflict and conceit for the rest of the fic, which is: it’s dangerous for patty to be touched. (original)

They’re close to the last people in the training room, wandering into the nearly full space. Nolan goes pink when everyone stops to look at him, the whole team in their blacks and oranges, the support staff in their whites and navies. (i had a whole world of worldbuilding that i wanted to do with this fic but my momentum got cut off in exactly the wrong way at exactly the wrong time. i might revisit it in the future, but by the end i was just trying to get everything DONE) It’s a clear delineation of team and not team, and Nolan seems to have picked the wrong colour. TK could’ve fucking told him.

“You could’ve told me,” he hisses and peers through the onset blurry confusion. (really enjoyed putting thought into what different emotions could manifest as! confusion makes everything blurry!) 

“Told you… oh. No, it’s chill. You’re new and usually it doesn’t matter if you’re in uniform.”

It makes him stand out more, a target on his back. An anomaly. He scowls at his shoes, breathing through the restless energy that’s taken up residence in the room. (nolan being set apart, by choice or not, is a big theme) If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought there was a storm coming, that Laughts had let his lightning go.

The last person on the team must finally find their way in because the door snicks shut with a click audible over the quiet talking. It’s like a signal, the way everyone goes quiet and swings their head in Nolan’s direction. It feels like being pinned and, for a split second, all he can feel is the overwhelming lilt of his own fear. It’s so strong, he half-wonders if he’s projecting or intaking, if someone nearby is getting hunted. (being the new guy is scary)

“Nolan Patrick,” something crackles over the speakers and Nolan flinches. “Welcome to the team.”

There’s a whooping that goes up from the boys, loud and unexpected. TK yells with them and looks like he’s a split second away from elbowing him in the side.

A black-suited figure comes down, one that Nolan recognizes as Coach, with Claude at his shoulder. He nods instead of extending his hand to shake. Nolan inclines his head back.

“Now, Patrick. We’ll get you back in the lab for individual testing soon enough, but we usually like to do the introductory session with everyone else, helps everyone know what they’re working with. No one’s going to intentionally hurt you, so don’t do any permanent damage.” (i did not want to write boring testing and wanted to get to the good part, so i made it work)

“I’ll try not to,” Nolan says after a second.

“Scrimmage first. You’re with Claude. Divide up, boys.” He yells the last part and the crowd starts to split between oranges and charcoals, lining up against opposite walls of the oval-shaped room. TK gives him a mischievous smile and then disappears, reappearing down at the other side of the long, long hall.

“Don’t be nervous, kid,” Claude says quietly, duly scanning the room as he takes in his team. He’s excited, Nolan can feel it patter against his skin like raindrops. “It’s all good fun, eh?”

“It’s training.” (nolan and claude’s dynamic is so important to me personally)

He smiles, sharp. “Fun training. Low stakes.”

Easy for him to say, he’s not being watched by a hundred pairs of eyes from every side, waiting to watch him fail. He doesn’t bother to say this.

“Just don’t get too close to Laughton. Or Coots.”

“I don’t know who Coots is,” he mumbles and Claude snickers, shifting his weight. There’s a warning whistle.

“Alright, Nolan. Are you defensive or offensive?” (i wanted to preserve some structure from hockey so it’s not so different. i messed with lines a little because i couldn’t think of a good reason why defense/offense shouldn’t be mixed, but i genuinely tried to keep people’s positioning consistent  with their real life position)

Nolan frowns deeper. “Uh, neither?” Claude swings around to look at him in surprise and he feels his shoulders inching up towards his ears. “Or maybe both,” he offers. “Not sure.”

Claude stares at him for a second. “You were second in the Academy and you don’t even know what’s your positioning?” (i actually couldn’t decide if nolan’s ability was more defense or offense, so i handwaved it)

Nolan chews on his cheek for a second. His ability isn’t so easy to position, isn’t so easy to fit into a designation. It‘s part of what makes him wanted. “Well… yeah. I guess.”

He mutters something that sounds like French and then heaves a sigh.

“Okay, just… don’t get flattened. Or shocked. (foreshadowing!) And don’t permanently harm anyone, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

���Stay behind me if you need protection but watch out for people coming around back. TK’s sneaky like that.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t hit anyone in orange.”

“I won’t,” Nolan says and Claude grins at him again.

“Watch out for JVR’s teeth.” (this is just claude messing with him)

“I don’t know who anyone is,” he reminds him, mildly exasperated, just as the second whistle goes, and the entire room explodes into furious movement.

Nolan’s done scrimmages like this before, of course he has, but it’s different this time. Different when it’s people who know their boundaries, know their abilities, and aren’t just trying to figure it all out. (i needed a reason for nolan to not keep his cool later, and this seemed as good as a reason as any) No one screams because they got hit by a too-strong blast, or shorts out in the middle of the neutral zone, or collapses. (the flip side is, of course, i then needed to describe the difference between juniors/the real thing) Instead, the two sides flow together like water, easy and fluid, as the sounds of a fight start up. It tastes like ozone again, sweetened by eagerness and fondness. They’re having fun, Nolan realises, like G said.

The two of them hang at the back of their crowd, a thin edge of frustration coming from Claude, and he knows that they’re in the back for him, that Claude usually is up front, leading. (claude likes to play, in every universe)

“We can—” he starts and cuts himself off when a… something… lands in front of them. Claude’s grin turns delighted, eager, hungry.

“Oh, a rematch, ya fuckin’ pigeon?” G says and the monster chirps, sharp teeth snapping. “You’re fucking on.”  (i chose JVR’s ability purely to make this joke. every power in here is either carefully chosen for plot reasons, or to make a joke)

“Uh,” says Nolan.

“Watch my back,” he manages to shout and then he’s launching himself at the creature. Nolan whirls around and watches his back.

“So you’re defensive,” says TK, appearing in front of him with a blink. He’s unwrapping a protein bar. (speedsters eating all the time is one of my favourite tropes) “Interesting.”

“I’m not— anything.”

“Okay, Mr. Number Two In The Academy,” he teases back, half garbled from the food in his mouth. “Are you supposed to be guarding?”

“I guess?”

TK snorts. “Let’s see what you can do, pretty boy.” (he’s watched too many bad superhero movies)

He blurs and Nolan feels something crash into his body, an impossible weight that nearly pushes him over. He gets his feet under him just in time, manages to stumble instead of fall, and TK is in the place he just vacated. (this served a lot of purposes! it slows down the fight scene a little so it paces correctly, gives a little more insight into both how TK processes scrimmages and his characterisation a little, and it gives them more time to build rapport.)

“Think I can distract your captain long enough for JVR to pin him?”

“I think you would’ve done it already if that was your plan,” Nolan answers, just as a hand clamps down on his shoulder. TK wasn’t lying about being a distraction, then. “Fuck,” he sputters out and the hand drives him down, impossibly heavy. (there’s a lot of potential abilities that could’ve sparked this reaction-- we see laughts do it later-- but i needed something not permanently damaging but still dire. i know later i say provy’s invulnerable, because that would be a quick way to explain for people, but what’s really going on here is that he’s controlling his density, and that’s what makes him hard to hurt.)  Without thinking, he wraps his own fingers around the strange wrist and opens up the connection, funnels everything he can through his palm, and lets loose.

His attacker screams. (a scream and a short sentence like this is a very effective tool in communicating the gravity of a situation.)

There’s a whistle and the whole room freezes, everyone turning to look at the two of them. Nolan’s on his knees and the man is hunched over him, only upright because of his knees braced against Nolan’s back and his fingers in a death grip on Nolan’s shoulder. (figuring out the physical positioning for this was fun)

Nolan can barely see, can barely process anything through the overwhelming shock radiating from every angle, and the terror rebounding between him and his attacker, getting stronger with every bounce. It’s black like oil, all-consuming as it slides across his vision and down his throat, tasting like sulfur. Everyone always said that fire-and-brimstone was anger, but to Nolan, it’s always been the scentflavourfeeling of pure, unadulterated fear. (okay, this is really what i wanted to show with this scene: exactly how dangerous nolan is and how that danger presents. people are wary of him because he can tell their emotions, but even though that’s embarrassing, the fact that he can control their emotions to the point where they forget everything else is where he gets truly scary. that’s why people don’t touch him. he’s also been trained to react on instinct to do the worst damage possible as fast as possible, and paralyzing fear is gonna get him there every time) He chokes, bends over his thighs, as the weight bears down on him. He’s going to be crushed by a stranger slash teammate on his first day. What a way to go. How embarrassing. (a moment of levity to showcase the danger, and to stay true to nolan’s character.)

He lets go out of self-preservation when his forehead bumps his knees, bracing both his hands against the ground, and there’s a burst of awe that cuts through everything like a beam of sunlight. (a clear contrast to the oil description a paragraph earlier) When he looks up, follows the feeling, TK’s eyes are wide.

“But Provy’s invulnerable,” someone says, stunned, and he wrenches himself away, sliding sideways so his attacker— Provy, apparently— can slump to the ground. Nolan’s on his back, staring at everyone who’s staring at him.

“I—” he starts and then stops, licking his lips. His brain is so fried, too much going through his body. It’s a lot of strong feelings, too many for all his defences, and it’s overwhelming. He tries again. “I.” (i don’t know if anyone notices but i do try to adjust my spelling to the spelling the narrator would use)

“Holy shit, Pat,” TK breathes. Provy groans and Nolan refocusses for a moment, touches his arm just long enough to push contentment through, enough to drive away the horror that lingers. It’s as much for Nolan as it is for Provy, clears away the rest of the black oil. “What did you do?” (trying to establish that patty’s not an asshole and

“If that’s number two,” Claude says, “then I don’t want to see what the number one can do.”

Nico can control fire, and can control it really well. It’s pretty sick to see. He deserved the number one. (someone asked me if this is because he went to the devils-- no, that’s just a coincidence lol i just needed a power that was conceivably more powerful than nolan’s) 

Provy pops his head up. He’s younger than Nolan thought, closer to his age and TK’s than Claude’s. He’s grinning, inexplicably. (the duality of provy-kind)

“That was incredible,” he says, and the happiness tastes like Nolan’s own. (worldbuilding!) Inorganic, but it’s the most he can do after putting the guy on his back. “But fuck, I never want to do that again.”

“So,” Coach says, shouldering his way through the crowd. Gingerly, Nolan sits up. “Provorov’s invulnerable to most physical attacks—”

“Haven’t been flattened in years,” Provy interrupts happily. Coach cuts a look at him and he snaps his mouth closed. (he’s still just a kiiiiid they’re all so young)

“—and the new kid comes in and does what no one else has done for years. What the fuck do you have sparking under your skin, bud?”

Nolan swallows. Abilities are weird. People are weird about them, even those who have them too, when it comes to ones like his. (patty being set apart, yet again!) It’s one thing to have some sort of physical power, one that you can turn off most of the time, and entirely another to be able to mess with people’s heads. He kept that shit under lock, as much as he could, even through the Academy. It’s normal to not reveal abilities to the teams, helps keep things secure and confidential. It’s why the rankings exist, so the teams spread out across the continent know a little how to prepare. Now that he’s placed, he should be able to talk about it. Could speak freely, if he wanted, but. But.

Anticipation tastes a lot like metal, that much different from the ozone of adrenaline. A complement. Nolan’s mouth is filled with the iron flavour of it as the whole room waits out to hear what he’s going to say. He licks his lips again, tastes it stronger.

“Empath,” he says quietly, and feels the emotions in the room change like the air before a storm. “I’m an empath.”

For a second, everything is too heightened and chaotic to make sense of, the team readjusting with the new information, and then it all settles into something understandable. The cherry-bright smell of curiosity, confusion blurring the sides of the room, fear and anxiety joining the anticipation on his tongue. There’s satisfaction too, humming gently against Nolan’s body, but he can’t figure out where it’s coming from just yet. (the satisfaction is coming from coach, claude, and tk, all for different reasons, but it also hints at emotions from different people having their own tint)

“Oh,” Provy drags out, running a hand through his hair. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“Touch-based?” Coach presses.

“To transmit emotions, yeah,” he says. “Not, uh. Not for input, though.”

“Input, like—”

“Like I can tell what you’re feeling. All the time, as long as you’re near me,” he says and closes his eyes against the shift that causes too.

“Well,” Coach says after a moment. “Looks like we have some readjusting to do.”

and that’s the end of that segment! i don’t know if i accomplished everything i wanted to, but i certainly tried. i really liked how this came out-- it was punchy without being too long and not too many info-dumps. very nice @ me. i think packing a bunch of emotion in (as was necessary, given nolan’s superpower) and taking time to explain it was really helpful for the pacing. also it let me get away without trying to figure out so much  emotion. thank you!

[pokemagines]

to trust. (claude x reader)

anon asked: “Alright, this is a new ask, so you can let it wait. But could you do a Claude headcanon/imagine/anything about his breeding kink? Maybe after you marry both Almyra and Fodland wants an heir, and/or something makes Claude snap during s*x and... I'll let you decide the end result ;)”

a/n: y’all begged for a breeding kink fic here it is. don’t ask me for anything ever again (im kidding i’ll probably end up writing another one for. whomever) -- mod touko

   Claude had never expected to even want an heir. He had no friends growing up, everyone in his life he saw as a tool to use for his own gain. He was so focused on the greater good that he didn’t truly see the people right at his side, who were easily persuaded by his fake smiles and easy-going demeanor into trusting him with their lives. Maybe he was so used to being hurt by others as a child to care about their feelings, or maybe it was because he didn’t want to. It was easier to pretend they wanted the same thing as him, it kept him up less at night.

   Until he had met you. You were an enigma he couldn’t crack, someone who seem to view everything with a cold indifference, Claude thought upon sizing you up at first. He knew there was something about you, your lost memories, sketchy origin, odd crest -- you were someone he didn’t get to see everyday. And then, you touched the sword of the creator, and everything seemed to start to melt away. No longer did you only wear the impassive mask, instead you would smile brightly, greet everyone with a head pat, and praise people in a way that was so genuine even the coldest students like Felix would flush crimson. Despite Claude trying his hardest to keep you off of his mind, the kindness you showed him kept him glued to your side. No matter how long he tried to delude himself that it was just for your power, just as the ice on your unbeating heart started to melt, it seemed he was learning how to trust you as well.

   His faith in you was sealed the moment you came back seemingly from the dead. It was funny and just like his old professor to be able to defy any odds to save your students. 

   That faith soon blossomed into love, Claude realized after Hilda teased him about how he never really smiles unless it was around you. It was true, Hilda was just as perceptive as Claude (if not more, at times), and Claude wasn’t a fool to lie to himself into why that was. It was because he loved you. The feeling was frightening and exciting at the same time -- before he had met Byleth, the number of people he truly loved could be counted on one hand (or on two fingers: his mother and his father), but now? That number increased with each day, after opening himself up to you, he had come to realize that maybe trusting people wasn’t such a bad thing. Not everyone was like the people of Fodlan who would call him hateful names and whisper about him as he passed through the market, and not everyone was like the Almyrans who tried to kill him for his so-called crime of being of mixed race. Some people just wanted to be his friend.

   After their marriage after a long few moons of him being away (“A little payback for you leaving for five years,” Claude retorts cheekily as he swoops in to save you from danger), the war’s aftermath slowly started to wind down to small scuffles for land or petty squabbles between the remaining churches. The chatter around the cathedral seemed to be more about gossiping about their leader’s love life rather than about the worries of the battles to come. It was a good thing, you said as you smile to yourself, until they start getting antsy, pestering with questions about an heir.

   When you bring it up to Claude he laughs, pulling you in close and telling you that he’s ready to have kids whenever you are. This statement takes him aback, as he hadn’t given it much thought until the words come tumbling out of his mouth. He looks ready to finish it with one of his trademark teasing statements, but you interrupt him with a passionate kiss, giving him a look that tells him all that he needs to know. 

   No rush is made like in your first few times of lovemaking, the times spent tearing at each others clothes and touching each other as if it’d be your last time together, now the pace was just slow, lazy as Claude pulls you into his lap, squeezing your sides lightly before he pulls off your sheer nightgown. 

   “Nothing under?” He says upon seeing your bra was nowhere to be found. “Dearest, if you wanted me that bad all you had to do was--”

   “Shut up before I change my mind.” You deadpan, as Claude chuckles and gets his mouth to work on something else besides talking. 

                                              ---------------------

   The summer days under the Blue Sea Moon were usually mild at Garreg Mach, but not today. It seemed as if the heat had followed its way into your room, your clothes scattered across the floor as your nails dig into his skin, Claude snapping his hips up to meet yours with each slow, deep thrust. 

   Last night, Claude apparently wasn’t thorough enough with you to make sure you were pregnant, which is why, after waking up late into the day he decided that it was time for round two. Something about the thought of you being so full of him there was no chance you weren’t pregnant lit a fire in him. You would be his and his alone, maybe then some of the more bold members of the knights (and Sylvain) would back off.

   Claude sucks in a sharp breath, the emerald of your wedding band almost seeming to burn hot against his skin. He found that much more arousing than he probably should, as his hips start bucking faster into you, trying his best to hit that sweet spot that will have you crying out your name. 

   “Claude,” the quiet gasps of his name spur him on as he abruptly pulls out and flips you over onto your back, throwing your legs over his shoulders before sheathing himself again. “Claude, ah I need you.” 

   “And I need you too, sunshine.” His voice is raspy as he leans his forehead against yours, a tender act of affection that counteracts his rough thrusts. He’s getting close, so so close, but he can’t finish before you do, it would hurt his pride too much. Claude pulls back, kissing anywhere he can reach with a messy, open-mouthed kiss, before dropping one of the hands that was holding your legs in between your thighs and rubbing at the swollen bud. Your back arches off the bed, yelling Claude’s name as you fist the sheets, toes curling as your body shakes with pleasure. Claude feels you clench around him, body jolting as you cum from his fingers and he can’t take it any longer. “I’m gonna-- gonna cum inside of you--” He bites down on your shoulder to keep from whimpering and he sheathes himself inside of you to the hilt, giving a few last weak thrusts as he fills you up so much some of his cum leaks out around him. 

   Claude falls on top of you with a sigh, rolling over off of you and catching his breath. You look over at him, Claude is completely wrecked, hair hanging messily in his face, lips swollen and bruises all over him from last night's events, but he looks so genuinely happy it makes your unbeating heart flutter wildly. His green eyes meet yours, and he pulls you on top of him, strong arms encircling your waist.

   “You okay?” He asks, your head resting against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. It was such a strange sound the first time you had heard it, in fact, you had thought there was something wrong with him, but now you have a hard time sleeping without hearing the steady thrum of it. 

   “Never felt better…” You muse, absentmindedly tracing patterns into his broad chest. “Though, I’m probably going to be too sore to walk to the dining hall later on today, thanks to you.”

   “Hey, I don’t remember hearing any objections from you a few minutes ago. Besides, when have I ever denied your requests to carry you around this old place?” Claude muses.

   “You only do it because you love to piss off Seteth.” Claude’s face drops at the mention of the green-haired man.

   “That’s just a perk of doing so.” His face turns mischievous again, gripping one of your wrists “say, that banquet isn’t until this evening. What’s to keep us from having another round?”

   “The fact that you’re clearly tired.” you roll your eyes, playfully hitting his chest at his antics. 

  “Ah, give me a few minutes,” Claude kisses you tenderly, a hand brushing through your hair, before he flips you over and rests himself between your legs. His cum is still hot and sticky between your legs, and it makes Claude flush with want once again. “It can’t hurt to make sure.”

[my-miraculous-headcanons]

Heres some heacanons for the pv (what the show should have been personally): the thing that seperates brigettes timeline from marinettes is in the pv timeline its brigettes mom who is ill and not felix's leading to felix being more loved and secluded and brigette missinf mom and distant making her develop seperation anxiety and a fear of lonliness(hence the clinginess)

Personally, I don’t care as much for the PV as I care for the original starting concept of everything, when Marinette was named Marietta, had more of a straight cut to her pigtails, and was known as the Mini Menace Ladybug. 

I’m also… not the biggest fan of Felix or Marinette’s personalities in the PV. The darker themes were great, I loved everything from a design point of view, as well as the other characters, Alan, Claude, and Allegra, but I don’t think I would have been able to stand the show with a love square like that. It would have been infuriating. Regardless of the reasonings behind their personalities, Felix and Marinette’s behaviour in the PV really rubbed me wrong.

If I were to personally change the show to fit something more to my liking, using the first concepts and the PV as inspiration, I would have changed a LOT more than simply whose parents were more unfortunate.

Let’s start with Marinette:

Okay, to start off… I LOVE this version of Marinette. I love her hairstyle and ribbons a whole lot more than canon Marinette. I love her civilian clothing, and I love the much more menacing look that she has when she’s Ladybug, using a mask with white covering over her eyes. I also love the fact that’s she’s older. 

And I can’t say enough how much I love that her suit’s not just magicked on. (Don’t get me wrong, I love the magic of the whole show, but I also really love when magic doesn’t do everything for you. Yeah, here’s a magical indestructible super suit, but you’re gonna have to put it on and take it off yourself!)

THIS Marinette, who was previously named Marietta, is cunning, daring, stealthy, and efficient. She still has all of my favourite qualities that Current Marinette has, being smart, creative, and strategic. But there’s a lot of differences; Concept Marinette clearly isn’t a goody-two-shoes, for one.

LOOK at this intense look in her eyes. Those are the eyes of someone on a fucking mission. Those are the eyes of someone who isn’t going to let anyone stop her, no matter what. If that means being a wanted criminal and having to avoid the police at every turn, then so be it. 

This is a Marinette who’s combined with not only the cute and quirky Marinette we have currently, not only the stern focus we have in Ladybug currently, but ALSO with the TOTAL BADASSERY that was unfortunately cut out altogether in the final production. This Marinette is cute, focused, and sly. And clearly not afraid to hurt anyone, if the state of that officer is anything to go by. 

This Marinette never had troubles making friends. She’s ALREADY confident and outgoing. This wasn’t the kind of girl who would sit quietly in class and never make meaningful relationships with her classmates. This is the kind of girl who didn’t NEED magical jewelry to shine. Instead, the magical jewelry found her BECAUSE she shined so brightly. 

I mean, seriously, look at this. I don’t know about you, but this isn’t the kind of ballsy attitude you get just because some new kid gave you a pep talk. Clearly she was already born with it, and is assured of her capabilities. This is the confidence of someone who’s BEEN confident for a very long time.

This is the Marinette I’m dying for. This is the kind of main character I would be utterly entranced by. It doesn’t need to sacrifice all the other quirks that we have with Current Marinette, all it does it adds on to her and makes her the type of hero I would have followed to the DEATH as a kid. 

This is the Marinette who still designs, who still bakes, who still gardens, who still probably does that adorable butt wiggle thing when she’s excited, who still squeals in delight and still makes handmade gifts for her friends.

And this is ALSO a Marinette who’s broken the law on multiple occasions, will expertly kick your ass in the name of good, super suit or not, is probably BOTH a bad influence and a good influence on the people around her, has powered on and made more connections in the fashion world than other teenagers her age would have had the guts to do, and doesn’t solely use her powers in the face of other magical happenstances. This girl will use her powers on regular old drunkards if the situation calls for it. She has NO mercy, and is perfectly fine on her own.

Of course, she isn’t alone, is she?

The Mini Menace: Ladybug is partnered with another Mini Menace, and his name would be Chat Noir:

Now, don’t get me wrong, as much as I love the Mini Menace concepts of Ladybug and Chat Noir, Beanie Boy here isn’t my favourite concept of catboy.

Believe it or not, my favourite concept art of Chat Noir is the one that’s a good mixture between both Felix and Adrien. A combination of Adrien’s general friendliness, awkwardness, and genuine playfulness, while still having Felix’s emotional distance, willingness to be a little mean-spirited at times, and the capacity to be deceitful. 

THIS is my Chat Noir. He’s full of genuine expression that is in no way a façade to win Ladybug over, bright and silly and mischievous. This is a boy who would probably laugh at someone who slipped on a banana peel, but would still get up to help that person back onto their feet, still laughing the entire time. This is also a boy who would make light jokes and tell dramatic stories to make you FEEL as though you’re close friends, even though he hasn’t told you a single thing about himself.

This is a person who knows how to be completely distant while masquerading as an open book. 

And I need to add, I LOVE this concept of Adrien, which seems to place somewhere in the beginning when they were transitioning from Felix to Adrien as a character. This Adrien is amicable, smiling in in the company of another friendly face, and has an open expression. This seriously does NOT look like someone who dances around in a skintight leather catsuit at night, breaking the law and provoking policemen. And that’s what makes it brilliant to me. 

The ONLY thing that seems similar between Chat Noir and Adrien is that they both manage to stay emotionally distant while putting up the mask of someone who isn’t. The brilliance of this is that they do it in completely different ways.

Current Chat Noir’s openness isn’t a joke, as far as we’re concerned. Current Chat Noir is TRYING to be as open as possible, his attitude is how he really want to be. Concept Chat Noir is different, instead USING that goofy attitude as a shield. He’s still Adrien, but part Felix as well, very attached to their protective bubble and not willing to slip out their cover.

Speaking of Felix, we should dive more into how we connect Felix and Adrien’s vastly different personalities.

To put it simply, Felix is kind of a jerk. And Adrien… isn’t. Felix doesn’t let anybody force him to do anything and will outright tell you to get lost. Adrien’s kind of a doormat and would sooner sacrifice his personal comfort for the sake of other people around him.

Felix is willing to use his bad luck abilities to purposely hurt a girl who has a crush on him simply because she’s walking towards him. Adrien’s the kind of guy who would stand still and let any girl who likes him cling to him like a leech, whether he’s uncomfortable or not. How could you possibly mix those two personalities together?

Well… pretty easily, honestly.

Felix acts out and does pretty mean-spirited things when he’s annoyed or just doesn’t want to deal with things. He’s selfish and cares little for what other people think of him. Adrien does, though. He cares about what other people think, his father especially, and wants people to like him.

This Concept Adrien is still going to be selfish and do mean-spirited things from time to time. He’d probably make use of his misfortune abilities by ruining the days of people who are just plain rude, taking great joy in their misery. That kid from earlier who made some gross comment about girls? Use a little misfortune to tangle his shoelaces together and make him late for class. That teacher who for some reason takes pride in failing his class? Gets his tie stuck in a paper shredder, wonder how that happened. Someone laughs at his use of a cane? I hope you like spraining your ankle and having to use crutches for a little while.

Concept Adrien still really cares about making good impressions to people who deserve it, however, and would refrain from pulling pranks or using his misfortune on those people. Marinette is on that list. She’s probably at the top of the list, honestly. Class president, super popular, probably the most sweetest girl in school, and strong enough to protect all her friends with raw strength alone? Yeah, definitely someone he wants to make a good first impression with.

Concept Adrien is a good person with some gray areas. He might enjoy other peoples’ pain too much, at times, and some of his ‘pranks’ can go a little overboard. His reasoning for helping Ladybug here and there will probably be for personal gain, rather than out of the goodness of his heart, and they won’t be very close to each other. Concept Adrien can be a little manipulative when he wants to be and can trick people into telling him the information he wants to know.

And yet, Concept Adrien is still firmly on the Good Human Being side of the scale. If he hears someone on the city streets in need of true help, he’ll be there. While he remains distant, afraid to tell too much about himself, he still very deeply cares about his friends and will be there for them when he’s needed. And while he has the power of pure destruction and misfortune at his fingertips, he never uses it for anything extreme.

Speaking of powers…

Chat Noir having added powers like this excite me. And I’m really excited by the fact that he’s seemingly capable of calling upon these powers outside of the magic suit— it gives credence to my theory that the original concepts were that Marinette and Adrien are CONSTANTLY infused with magical power. It doesn’t only ever exist when they change into the super suits. All that strength, agility, and their magical powers are well within their capabilities at all times. 

I love that Chat Noir’s powers are more diverse. He has more up his sleeve than a simple Cataclysm, like how Ladybug has more than just the Lucky Charm. Ladybug’s also capable of literally restoring any damage caused by another Miraculous.

And, speaking of abilities and Ladybug, let’s dive onto her side now.

This Ladybug doesn’t have new magical powers necessarily like Chat Noir does, but what she DOES have is an entire arsenal of different weapons, all in one yoyo. 

This absolutely feels like something more inline with the Ladybug Miraculous, considering it’s literally all about good luck and creation. It makes absolute sense that she should be able to imagine whatever weapon she wants and have it mimicked through her yoyo. Bombs, swords, staffs, and even a shield that’s probably capable of cutting through things like butter. It also falls in line with Concept Marinette’s personality. She’s willing to go to extreme lengths to accomplish her goal, so in comparison to Current Marinette, Concept Marinette would likely think of a whole host of different weapons to help her out.

I mean… remember that scene in Malediktator where Ladybug’s Lucky Charm was a fucking. machine gun. You remember how she just picked the laser pointer off it and threw the gun away? Yeah. Concept Marinette would not have done that.

You guys can probably tell what the common theme of the concept universe at this point is. Darker, more violent, more morally grey, and full of much more weapons, powers, and villains unrelated to magical influence. 

There’s SO MUCH more I want to get into, I’m justing dying to delve more into Concept Hawkmoth/Gabriel, the kwamis, Concept Origins, Concept Love Square, Concept Fu, Concept Plot, etc, etc. But at this point the post has run on for much too long. This took me long enough that I had to stop for the night and fall asleep. I’ll expand more if anybody asks, I suppose. 

[taetaespeaches]

“So Claude, what’s your real name?”

Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 5K

a/n: I did a stupid amount of research for this scenario and I don’t even know if I’m proud of how it turned out... fuck me right? lmao. I just wanted to make sure that it was somewhat realistic in that they would be looking at art that is actually in Paris. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this at least a little bit. It’s based on this concept the lovely @newodds​ sent in, in which Tae meets the reader in Paris and they look at art together. As always, thanks for reading babes. 

For reference:

This is the set of lyrics from Billie Holiday’s Lover Man that helped inspire this scenario: 

Someday we'll meet And you'll dry all my tears Then whisper sweet Little things in my ear Hugging and a kissing Oh, what we've been missing Lover man, oh, where can you be

Also, here are the two paintings involved in this scenario:

Van Gogh:  Le semeur, soleil couchant 

Monet: Field of poppies near Vétheuil

p.s. The Bührle Collection (the art collection Tae and the reader are looking at in this) is in Paris from March 20 through July 21 and BTS are in Paris in June for the Speak Yourself tour, so this kind of worked out if you imagine it’s June... see, stupid amount of research. 

The overwhelming aroma of roasted coffee beans mixed with a subtle smell of fresh baked pastries flooded your nostrils as you entered the museum’s café. The sweet fragrance made your mouth water as you stared ahead of you at the big glass display case, rows upon rows of baked goods taunting your taste buds. 

Approaching the display to take a better look, your eyes widened at all the options laid out in front of you. You let out a big audible sigh, not realizing how loud it was due to earbuds that were currently jammed into your ears. However, your expression of indecisiveness caught the attention of the man next to you, eliciting a deep chuckle from him. 

As he took in your appearance, he found that he couldn’t peel his eyes away, intrigued by you for some reason that he couldn’t quite figure out. You were beautiful, but it wasn’t just that. He felt drawn to you, hit with a craving to know how your mind worked and what made your heart race. 

Feeling eyes on you, you turned to your side, jolting slightly in surprise when you noticed the extremely handsome man staring right at you. Quickly, you grabbed the earbud cord to rip it out of your ear, effectively making the bud fly right into the man’s face, smacking him on the cheek under his eye. He flinched back a bit as he blinked quickly and repeatedly. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you frantically apologized, bringing your hands towards his face with the intention to inspect his injury, however stopping yourself before touching him, reminding yourself this dude was a total stranger. “Are you ok? I’m so, so sorry.” 

The most beautiful expression of happiness you’d ever seen spread across his face in the form of a boxy smile, a deep chuckle reverberating from his vocal chords making his Adam’s apple bob against his long neck. In a trance caused purely by how fucking gorgeous this guy was, you slowly apologized again, your voice quiet as you began to whisper until the sound all but faded out. With your hands still near his face, his large and strong hands clasped over your own, lowering them between your chests as he shook his head. 

“It’s ok,” he spoke in over-enunciated English, a noticeable accent peeking through his articulation as he smiled. Freezing momentarily, you looked at your hands which were wrapped up in his, your eyes scanning over the protruding veins as your heart skipped several beats and then pounded rapidly against your chest in an effort to catch up with the beats missed. 

He lowered his head to enter your eye line, bringing your focus back to his stunning face. The beautiful smile still on display, he nodded at you. “I’m ok,” his low timbre assured you. You felt your cheeks blush as he released your hands from his grip. 

You licked your lips nervously, averting your eyes from his face, the small leather film camera case hanging off the man’s shoulder catching your gaze for a moment before you looked around the café, eventually focusing back on the plethora of pastries. His eyes were still on you, you could feel it. “Um,” you started, looking back at the handsome man. “Can I make it up to you?” 

He squinted his eyes at you, his face morphing into an intimidating look making you feel nervous. You licked your bottom lip again before taking it between your teeth, turning back to the pastries. 

“Sorry, I uh,” he started, making you look back at him in anticipation. His facial expression had softened again, now appearing bashful. “I don’t speak much English,” he apologized shyly, his tongue swiping out for a quick moment. With his eyes wide and innocent, he resembled a child.

“That’s ok,” you assured him with an affectionate smile. “Uh, do you want something?” You gestured at the case, then pointed at yourself. “On me,” you smiled. Realization flashed across his face as he smiled again, nodding enthusiastically. His reaction elicited a giggle from you as you turned back to the pastries. “So many options,” you said out loud. 

The man’s eyebrows pulled together as he scanned the choices. “What’s good?” He asked you, his eyes once again changing from intimidating to childlike within a second. Holy duality, you thought. 

“Um, I don’t really know. I’m a tourist,” you clarified. 

“Oh, tourist? Me too,” he smiled. 

“What brings you to Paris?” You asked, genuinely curious. 

His low voice hummed in thought. “Work.” He said simply, to which you nodded slowly. Before you could ask further, his mouth smacked open, though no words were spoken yet as he looked towards the ceiling, thinking of the words to put together to form a sentence. So endearing. “I’m here with my work members, but I have a day off.” He nodded once, proud of his explanation, his cute expression tugging at your heart. “Why are you here?” 

“Vacation,” you explained. You thought about trying to explain that you were here with your friends touring across parts of Europe and that they were way too hungover from partying last night to leave the hotel room today, but you didn’t know if he would be able to understand you. He nodded at your short explanation, so you left it at that. 

“So, you like art?” He asked, eyes gleaming with excitement as he chewed on his bottom lip. 

Nodding, you smiled. “I don’t know a lot about art, but I’m trying to learn more,” you explained, however, it looked like he only understood part of what you said. 

“You know Vincent Van Gogh?” He asked in anticipation. 

“Of course,” you nodded as a big geometric smile spread across his face, making you mirror his expression. 

“He’s my favorite,” the man informed you proudly making you smile even wider. His obvious fascination with art was endearing and made you want to know more about him and his interests. “Your favorite artist?”

“Mine?” You pointed to yourself making the man nod enthusiastically. “Monet. I like landscapes,” you elaborated. He smiled widely at your answer. 

“I like Monet too,” he told you with a happy, close-mouthed grin, eliciting a giggle from you in response to his cuteness. “Um, exhibit,” he started bashfully. “Uh, Van Gogh and Monet. It opened today,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “I read something about it,” you pulled out a pamphlet you picked up on your way inside the museum. Pointing to the page about the Bührle Collection, he leaned towards you to look at it. His proximity made you feel weak as you took in the scent of this handsome stranger.  

“Ah, yes,” he smiled happily as he met your eyes from his position, hovering above you, not seeming to care how close he had gotten to you. “I was excited,” he started as he gathered his words. “I leave tomorrow, and this opened,” he explained.  

“Oh, just in time,” you smiled. “Must be fate.” Taehyung smiled fondly at your words. 

Basically, the Emil Bührle Collection from Zürich was quite the prestigious collection of art, and it was being presented in a temporary exhibit at the very museum you both stood in, the Musée Maillol, right there in Paris. And it just so happened to be the exhibit’s opening day. 

“Would you like to visit it with me?” He asked you with big puppy-like eyes as he pointed to the pamphlet. “After food,” he added, making you giggle in response. 

Despite not knowing this man, he seemed genuine and pure, and that made you feel comfortable enough to accept his invitation. Nodding with an affectionate smile, you replied with, “I’d love to.” His lips spread into the biggest boxy smile you’d seen from him yet, effectively melting your heart, as he gave a single happy nod. 

Both staring at each other for a moment, your eyes scanned each other’s features. That’s when you noticed the freckle at the end of his pretty nose. Well that’s adorable. Breaking your gaze from him with a small sigh, you turned back to the pastries, his gaze following yours. “Here,” he announced as he shut his eyes and pointed his finger towards the glass display case. Moving his arm around in circles and left to right at random, he stopped, peeking one eye open to see where his finger landed. Really freaking adorable. Both of you leaning forward to inspect the item, you discovered it was a pear and hazelnut tart. “You like?” He asked you, to which you nodded. “Good,” he gave another single nod. “For you. Now you pick for me,” he smiled pointing to himself. 

A shy smile appeared on your face as you tentatively covered your eyes with your hand and mimicked his motions as you pointed your finger at the pastries. Removing your hand from your face, you saw that your finger landed on a chocolate eclair. “Do you like those?” You asked him as he nodded excitedly, making you giggle. 

You both made your way to the counter to order, telling the girl which pastries you wanted, as well as placing an order for a small café au lait for yourself. “Um, do you want a drink?” You asked the beautiful stranger to which his eyes popped open wide, his mouth shortly following suit. After a moment of thought, he smiled shyly, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Uh, coke?” Smiling fondly at him, you nodded and ordered his coke. “I don’t like coffee,” he added, his embarrassment growing. 

“That’s ok,” you assured him sweetly. “It can be bitter.” He smiled graciously at your comment, thankful for your understanding. 

When the girl asked for a name, before you could answer, the man replied with “Claude Monet”. Turning to look at him, you couldn’t help the massive grin that overtook your features. Utterly fucking adorable. The girl slightly chuckled as she nodded and wrote Claude Monet down. As you reached into your bag to pay, the stranger stepped in front of you, taking the bill himself. 

Sitting down at a table as you waited for your order, you playfully glared at the stunning man. “I was supposed to pay,” you told him, making him look at you innocently. “Because I did that,” you reached up to gently poke the red mark on his cheek. As your finger met his unbelievably smooth skin, a grin overtook his face. Shaking his head, he wrapped his hand around yours, intertwining your fingers as he lowered them both to the table. 

“On me,” he said through his smile, to which you mirrored his grin, unable to hold back the display of happiness. Your hands broke apart a few seconds later when the girl called out “Claude Monet,” sporting an amused grin as she did so. The beautiful man shot up quickly, retrieving the treats and snacks, and as he made his way back, he stared at you intensely. When he sat down, his gaze remained on you as if he was looking over your every feature and blemish. You thanked him quietly for the pastry and drink to which he gave a small nod. 

Feeling intimidated by his stare, you directed your eyes on the tart in front of you as you prepared to ask him a question, curiosity taking over as you wanted to know more about this adorable yet unbelievably handsome and sometimes intimidating stranger. “So, Claude,” you teased, eliciting an immediate chuckle from him. Feeling braver in response to his playfulness, you looked up at him with a smirk. “What’s your real name?” 

With a soft smile, he looked over your features fondly before responding. “Taehyung.”

“Taehyung,” you repeated, carefully enunciating as he hummed in approval. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in curiosity, lifting his coke to his lips to take a drink. 

“Vincent,” you put your hand out for him to shake. “Vincent Van Gogh.” At that, Taehyung burst into giggles, taking your hand and shaking it gently. 

“Wow,” he said happily. “Big fan of your work,” he added, playing along. 

Smiling widely, you told him your real name as he still held onto your hand. “Nice to meet you,” he told you genuinely, his mouth shaped into a fond smile. 

“Nice to meet you too,” you agreed. Reluctantly, he let go of your hand, and you both looked down to your pastries. “So, Tourist Taehyung,” you began to ask another question. “Where are you from?” 

“Korea,” he said with a smile. “You?” After telling him, he responded with a loud, “Ah,” flashing a thumbs up, attracting the attention of the man sitting next to you for a moment. 

Laughing at his cute action, you took a sip of your drink, sneaking a glance at Taehyung as he held his coke in one hand and the éclair in the other, a happy grin on his face. Taking a bite of the eclair, he hummed in satisfaction. Holding it out to you, you looked at it in question, and then up at him. He gestured to it, silently telling you to take a bite as he raised it closer to your mouth. 

Tentatively, you leaned forward and bit a piece off, instantly letting out a small moan at the taste. “Good?” He asked you, looking at you with big eyes. Nodding enthusiastically in response, you immediately lifted your tart up for him to try. With an affection look on his face, he leaned down and took a bite. His eyes widened as he flashed you a close-mouthed smile. 

“Good?” You asked him as you licked your lips, ridding them of eclair crumbs. Instead of answering, he bounced his head around as he hummed in approval. That’s when you noticed he chewed in pout. HE CHEWS IN POUT. Admiring his pouted lips and innocent eyes, your heart might as well have exploded in your chest. How can someone even be this adorable?

He held his coke up for you try, to which you giggled. “I’ve had a coke before, Taehyung.” He simply shrugged and took a sip for himself. Pointing to your coffee, he silently asked for a taste. “You don’t like coffee,” you reminded him with a small giggle, however, he flashed you a pout. “What, when in France, do as the French do?” You asked, causing him to smile widely as he chuckled. 

Holding the cup out to him, he took it from you to take a sip. He tried to keep his face still, but the bitterness of the drink showed through his expression, his features twisting up into dissatisfaction. A laugh escaped your lips, fully amused by his disgust as he washed down the bitter taste with another drink of his coke. As he watched you laugh, a smile slowly appeared on his face. 

“I like your laugh,” he said abruptly, causing your laugh to slowly fade away as your smile turned into a bashful one. 

“Thank you,” you said shyly. “I like yours too.” That caused him to smile even wider. “I like your freckle too,” you blurted out, making him look at you in confusion. Why the fuck would you say that, you idiot? “Uh, your freckle..” you said nervously, “at the end of your nose.” To clarify fully, you gently tapped your finger on his nose. “It’s cute,” you smiled shyly, heat flushing from your cheeks down your neck. Taehyung touched his nose as he figured out what you were saying. 

“Thank you,” he smiled as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. You cast your gaze towards your feet in embarrassment as he kept his eyes locked on your face, his orbs taking in your features, admiring every detail. His stare made you feel shy, yet you also felt appreciated and seen. 

“So, you take pictures?” You asked, gesturing to the camera case. 

“Ah,” he said, tapping his fingers on the leather case. “I love taking photos. Uh landscapes, people, everything.” You smiled at his words, your mind pondering what it must be like to see through Taehyung’s eyes. “I’d love to take your photo,” he admitted shyly, making your breath escape your lungs for a moment.

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled, your cheeks heating intensely as you shot your eyes to your coffee cup, watching your thumb rub circles against the side of it. “I don’t know though, I might break your camera,” you joked, though Taehyung didn’t comprehend what you said. Probably lucky for you, as well, as you figured he was the kind of guy who would have lectured you on why that wasn’t true. 

“What were you listening to?” He asked you suddenly, your eyes shooting up to his face in question, as a small “huh?” escaped your lips. He tapped his ear with his pointer finger as he asked again, “Uh, music?” 

“Oh,” you said in realization. “Uh,” you dug in your pocket to find your phone. Opening up your music app, you turned the device so he could see the screen. A sweet smile spread on his pretty lips as he read the song and artist, which was Lover Man by Billie Holiday. 

“Billie Holiday?” He asked, almost knowingly. 

“Yeah. She sings with so much soul,” you gestured to your heart to emphasize your reasoning. With so much fondness, Taehyung looked at you.. he really looked at you.. and you really did feel seen. 

“I love jazz,” he told you, eyes bright and attentive. “Jazz makes you feel.” The atmosphere that seemed to encase you both at that moment was overwhelming, in the best way possible. You were amazed by how at home you felt with this guy you just met. With your heart racing, feeling a little too much, you decided to change the topic. 

“Um, so Van Gogh,” you started, “Why is he your favorite?” You asked him as you took a bite of your tart. 

“Uh, colors…” His tongue swiped against his bottom lip as he smiled bashfully, feeling embarrassed by his inability to express his thoughts in English as you peered into his deep orbs. You picked up on the blush tinting his cheeks and nodded in encouragement. "Um, colors and... feeling,” he continued. 

“His paintings make you feel,” you said in understanding. Smiling beautifully, he nodded. 

As you both finished your drinks and baked goods, sharing the pastries until they were all gone, Taehyung gestured to the exit. “Ready?” He asked you happily, to which you nodded with a big smile. Exiting the museum café with him, you felt like you were dreaming. You don’t just bump into super attractive men with duality that gives you whiplash who also love art and jazz and photography and have a mind and soul so deep and profound you just want to dive in and explore everything. That doesn’t just happen. That’s fucking fiction. 

But when he accidentally bumped into you, his hands reaching out to gently grab your arm to stabilize you, the touch searing you, and as he looked at you with his soft expression and apologized in his low timbre, you knew this was very real. Taehyung was real, and he was there, and when he looked at you with those thoughtful eyes, he saw you. 

Walking around the museum, you gazed upon the works that were permanent fixtures of the Musée Maillol. Not much was spoken between you and Taehyung besides the occasional, “Wow” or “Beautiful” or “Look at this one”. 

Beyond those few words, you mostly just enjoyed the comfortable presence Taehyung provided you, making you feel at home yet also lighting a curiosity within you, making you feel alive. All you knew about this man was that his name was Taehyung, he was from Korea, he was in Paris for work of some kind, he loved art and photography, his favorite artist was Van Gogh, he disliked coffee, loved coke and sweet pastries, he had the most expressive eyes, the sweetest smile, and the most stunning facial structure, and you liked him a lot. 

Exploring the great works of Picasso, Warhol, Matisse, Braque, and so many more, you couldn’t keep your gaze off Taehyung. The masterpieces lining the walls were nothing compared to this man you felt almost destined to find. 

When you approached the part of the museum where the Bührle Collection was being displayed, you took notice of the giddiness being expressed through Taehyung’s strut and the way he looked at you with an enthusiastic glint in his orbs. Stepping into the exhibit, the first piece you saw was Manet’s Un Coin du Jardin de Bellevue. 

“Wow,” Taehyung awed, to which you nodded in agreement, referring to both the painting and the man at your side. Moving from piece to piece, admiring the works of Renoir, Cezanne, Signac, Degas, Gauguin, and more, you took sly glances at Taehyung, exploring his expressions, the emotions the works were evoking showing themselves on his features. 

You found it difficult to tear your eyes away from the slope of his nose, to the perfect structure of his jawline. He would swipe his tongue over his lips quickly when he was deep in thought about a piece, his eyes taking on that intimidating gaze that you had discovered just meant he was inside his mind. Every time he saw a technique used in the painting that he liked a lot, you could instantly tell by the way his lips would quirk up, his eyes taking on a soft gaze as his orbs bounced from detail to detail. You especially loved the way he could feel you staring at him, his lips turning up into a confident smirk, his gaze slowly shifting to you as you quickly averted your gaze to the painting, pretending to nod in approval of what you saw, making him chuckle breathily. As you walked away, you could feel his gaze following you. 

Catching sight of the next painting, you could instantly tell it was the Van Gogh piece. Turning around to meet his gaze that was locked on you, you whisper-shouted “Van Gogh” pointing to the painting. It took a moment for him to register your words as he intensely stared at you, but suddenly his eyes popped wide open, appearing innocent, the excitement etched throughout his features. His beautiful boxy smile spread across his face, making your heart grow three sizes larger.

Van Gogh’s Le semeur, soleil couchant, or Sower with Setting Sun was stunning, and you immediately understood what Taehyung meant by colors and feeling in Van Gogh’s work. The colors used evoked a specific feeling, the yellow golden glow of the setting sun placed behind the sower like a halo gave off the impression of comfort and warmth, awing you with its radiance. The purple of the field was calming. With the small house in the background, the feeling of home, rest, and joy was portrayed. The image of the sower working gave you a feeling of humbleness. It wasn’t one of Van Gogh’s well-known self-portraits and it wasn’t Starry Night, but it was its own special piece that made you lose all sense of time as you admired the sower at work. 

When you eventually pulled your eyes from the painting to look over at Taehyung, he was already watching you, a soft expression gazing at you. “I love it,” you whispered. 

“Comforting,” he whispered back. “Feels like home.” As he spoke those words, his eyes stayed locked on your own, the intensity of his stare giving you the impression he wasn’t simply talking about the painting. In response, you smiled shyly as your fingers slowly sneaked forward to gently play with his own, hoping the touch would convey how you felt in that moment. Taehyung lightly chuckled, his tongue swiping over his lips quickly before he flashed a tender smile. “Your work is great, Vincent,” he teased with a playful sparkle in his eyes. 

Scrunching your nose in amusement, you bit your bottom lip as your mouth formed into a pleased grin. “Shall we take a look at your work, Claude?” You teased back, to which he all but snorted out, drawing the attention from a few art spectators passing judging glances, however, you both were unbothered by their looks. 

Approaching Monet’s Field of poppies near Vétheuil, you were immediately reminded why you loved Monet so much. The way he utilized his limited palette and used broken color to create such airy looking scenes never failed to mesmerize you. His brush strokes varied from light and misty-like to short and thick to show how the light passed through and changed over the scenery. Seeing one of his pieces in person stunned you. 

The contrast between the cool blue sky and green trees in the upper half of the painting and the warm reds in the poppies drew you in as you admired how the brush strokes were used to portray different features in the scene. As you were lost in the painting, Taehyung was lost in you. 

His eyes started on the painting, admiring the techniques displayed in the work, however, he snuck one single glance at you and he couldn’t bring himself to look back to the piece. Your teeth tugged on your bottom lip as your tongue occasionally worked over the flesh to sooth it. Your eyes stayed on one area, taking in every detail your orbs could pick up on before they scanned the painting, settling on the next area of interest. Taehyung could tell you especially liked the poppy field, as you focused on it the longest. 

“So beautiful,” Taehyung whispered unknowingly, lost in you. 

“It is,” you replied as you looked over at him, noticing his eyes were stuck on you, red flushing your cheeks immediately upon the realization resembling the red of the poppies. Taehyung’s lips spread into an affectionate smile as he lightly chuckled at your response. 

Moving to the next painting, you both stayed silent, however, you each would intentionally gently bump the other or lean into the other just slightly. By the time you made it through the museum, it was closing time and the sun was setting over the city. Exiting the museum, the ending of your time together was impending, making you both feel tense and dreadful. 

As you walked down the street, you were both silent, but it wasn’t a comfortable silence like before. The edgy atmosphere made you feel like bursting into tears. How could you just walk away from this man?

Suddenly, Taehyung stopped walking, you taking a few more steps before you stopped and turned around. Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion as you looked at him. Taehyung pulled the film camera out of its case as he huffed, looking around the city street, nervously avoiding your gaze. “Taehyung?”

With a “huh?” his eyes darted to you, his own orbs large and innocent, and for the first time that day, fearful. “Uh, can I take your photo?”

With a small smile, you nodded. “What should I do?” You asked nervously, tapping your hands against the tops of your thighs. Gesturing you to come closer to him, you followed his lead, taking a few steps until you were stood in front of him. His hands gripped your shoulders, the feeling strong and firm yet gentle and warm. Turning you around, he smiled at you before taking a few steps backwards as he lifted his camera to his face. 

“Ah!” He exclaimed enthusiastically. “Perfect.” You looked behind you to see he had positioned you so you were standing in front of the Musée Maillol, your heart clenching at the realization that he wanted to capture you with the place he met you at. You could hear Taehyung’s camera clicking as he photographed the scene. 

Looking at the museum, you realized in that moment how your meeting Taehyung had materialized through a series of unlikely events that aligned so unbelievably right that it felt like it had been written in the stars. Starting with the Bührle Collection having made its way to Paris for the first time ever, to opening the exact day you and Taehyung were both free to explore Paris alone, to both of you having an insatiable sweet tooth that drew you both to the dessert case at the exact same moment, all the way to you smacking him in the face with your ear bud. Lover Man by Billie Holiday was even playing when you first laid eyes on him. It all felt so destined. 

Turning back to Taehyung, you felt overwhelmed by the feelings that had just erupted in your heart. “Should I smile?” You asked tentatively, unsure of how to handle your own thoughts and emotions in that moment as you watched the stunning man. 

“Yes,” he lowered his camera to see you without the barrier, flashing you a stunning boxy grin. “I love your smile,” he said sweetly as he brought the camera back to his face. A shy expression of fondness overtook your face at his words, your lips spreading from cheek to cheek. “Ok, one, two, three!” He counted down as he captured the photo. “Beautiful!” He yelled happily, resembling an adorable little boy as he put his camera back into the case and you approached him. 

Watching him as he put his camera back, you wondered if this would be the last time you’d see him. As he met your gaze again, you could have swore he was thinking the same thing, his eyes expressing concern. “Do you believe in fate?” He asked you suddenly, his tongue poking out quickly, which you had discovered was a sign of deep thought and sometimes nervousness. 

Breathless, you smiled. “I do,” you whispered, tears forming in your orbs. 

Taehyung smiled beautifully, the expression spreading a warmth throughout your body. Reaching for your hand, he encased it in his own as he kept his eyes locked on yours. “Me too.” 

[intim3ate]

To Follow a Lead | Claude/Sylvain [Fire Emblem: Three Houses]

Claude doesn't mean to keep running into Sylvain, at first. He doesn't mean to develop feelings for him, either. But, as they say: coincidence is the mother of intention.

This was originally just a short concept about Claude and Sylvain flirting, but somehow it turned into a 6000+ word fanfic... Let me tell you I was empowered by how good these two are together. Like... they're both so shady and deceptive and I feel like if anyone is going to appreciate Claude's somewhat-underhanded methods of flirting, it's probably Sylvain.

God I love them. What is it with me and rarepairs, though?

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Of all the quiet places in Garreg Mach Monastery, Claude thinks his favourite might be the library. It’s quiet, solitary comfortably familiar way. It’s hardly lonely – he’s joined all the time by the people around him, flitting about and minding their own business, completely unaware of the plots he’s hatching or the schemes he’s brewing – but it is isolating, somehow, in its silence.

But that same isolating silence is worth its weight in gold every time it is interrupted. It doesn’t take long for Claude to become a familiar fixture in the library. The bookshelves conceal all manner of hidden secrets; some written in ink and charcoal; some found in the people hiding behind the shelves, away from prying eyes or ears; and still more whispered between those same students, whose eyes roam the room to make sure nobody is listening.

But someone is always listening.

Claude learns, quickly, that people pay him no mind if he acts as if he is minding his own business. They ignore him at best, and cast wary glances and whispers in his direction at worst. He is used to it, though, unaffected despite the occasional wish that that wasn’t the case. Sometimes, he finds himself wishing that he was the one leaning in and whispering conspiratorially in a friend’s ear.

It isn’t even for a lack of trying, really. Claude has made it a personal mission to be at least friendly, if not kind, to everyone he approaches. Sometimes it’s a genuine attempt to make friends, and others it’s what they all expect: a hunt for information, for something to use in his next plan. His mother would call it catching flies with honey. She wouldn’t exactly be wrong, per se, but… Claude had quickly come to the realization that even honey would not work if the flies thought it dripped from a wolf’s teeth.

A lion’s teeth, however…

Sylvain Jose Gautier makes no effort to hide his ulterior motives. He speaks to everyone like they’re the most important person in the world to him, lifting them up and telling them whatever they need to hear to nudge them in whatever direction he has chosen for them. Insincerity spills from his lips like sweet, sugary poison, and he knows it. He weaponizes it in the most insidiously gentle way, mixing it into his speech alongside his real, honest feelings.

It’s rather impressive, really, that so many people recognize it and still give him what he wants.

The first time Claude truly comes to appreciate Sylvain’s… gift, as he calls it, is a late night in the library, long after the moon had risen above the spires of the monastery. He’s alone in the dim room save for Annette, whose nose had been buried in the same book for hours upon hours. It’s just as quiet and peaceful as ever, but something about the late hour and the way the candles along the wall have almost burned to nothing sets Claude on edge. Instead of the comfort he usually feels among the dusty shelves, he is restless.

He looks to Annette and wonders if she feels the same. Her foot shifts beneath the table, drawing out a pattern Claude can not distinguish. He wonders what she’s reading.

His restlessness gets the better of him, eventually. To his credit, Claude holds out for a while - much longer than he normally would - but, as put-together as he tries to appear, he knows his restraint cannot be checked forever. And so, curious, he approaches Annette with a carefully-applied smile. 

“Must be a good book for you to be up so late.”

Annette frowns up at him, sleepy and annoyed. “Oh, Claude. I’m… just studying. What does it matter?” 

Claude raises his hands before him defensively, backing away instinctively. His smile, however, does not falter. “No need to bite my head off,” he says lightly. “I was just curious is all.” 

“Yeah, well…” Annette covers her mouth, trying to muffle her long, drawn-out yawn. “I think I’ve hit my limit anyway. I should probably go to bed. Just... one more chapter, I think...”

Claude nods and shifts, feeling a touch awkward. “Right. Well… good luck, then. And try to take it easy tomorrow, all right? You look exhausted.” 

A small smile graces Annette’s lips - a personal victory for Claude, as far as he’s concerned - and she silently returns to her studies. Claude returns to his own seat a few feet away, ready to resume his own reading… Except that the moment he re-opens his tome, Sylvain Gautier comes barreling in through the door, effectively destroying both his and Annette’s concentration.

Not that Sylvain seems to notice. Or care.

“Annette! Thank the goddess you’re here,” he says, breathing heavy and laboured as if he had been running. Despite the raspiness of his tone, however, Sylvain looks alive, face flushed and smile wide enough to light up his eyes. “Say, have you done… something with your hair? It looks amazing.”

Annette sighs resignedly. Claude takes some satisfaction in the way her eyes roll. “No, Sylvain.” 

“Really? You’re trying to tell me you just always look this good?” 

An aggravated sigh this time. “Just tell me what you want, will you?” 

And he does. It’s the usual fare: a girl kicking up a fuss after he’d broken her heart (though he claimed she had been the one to shatter his). “I just need a place to lay low,” he says. “The library was close, and she’s… not exactly the studying type, if you know what I mean. I figure I’d be safe here, and if it looks like I’m helping a friend study…” 

Annette looks like she’s trying to fight back a smile, but she just can’t help herself. “Fine,” she says. “You can stay. Just don’t get in the way too much, okay?” 

“Me? Never.” Sylvain smiles and takes his seat next to Annette. True to his word, he doesn’t get in her way… at first.

Sylvain sits quietly for a long moment, but it’s easy to see that boredom is slowly overtaking him, because he starts to fidget incessantly. Claude can’t help but watch; it’s distracting, and there’s something about the way Sylvain looks like he’s holding something back that makes his hair stand on end. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long to find out just what it is that’s being hidden, as Sylvain suddenly blurts out: “I can’t take in anymore. Annette, look. See this? This entire section here? It’s all wrong.” 

Annette looks at him like he’d grown a second head. “What?” 

“It’s wrong. The formula should go like this, and that rune should be tweaked slightly… see? It’s missing a stroke.”

Claude raises an eyebrow, intrigued. He glances down at his book and realizes he hasn’t read a single word in the last few minutes, so he closes it and sets it aside for now. His research on Hero’s Relics can wait; this is much more interesting. He’d never had the impression Sylvain knew much of anything about magic, but…

“You’re right,” Annette says, incredulous. “How did you know that?” 

Sylvain shrugs. “Guess I just have a knack for this stuff. I…” 

He looks away for a split second, just long enough to catch Claude’s eye, and pauses before turning back to Annette, gaze lingering on Claude even as he turns his head. “The better question is, why are you studying this stuff, anyway? Isn’t it a little above our current level?” 

A sense of disappointment washes over Claude, though he doesn’t quite understand where it stems from. Had Sylvain been about to say something about himself? If he hadn’t spotted Claude, would his conversation with Annette taken a different turn?

He tells himself it doesn’t matter, that he isn’t interested. Claude has gotten quite good at lying to himself.

“Maybe it is,” Annette says, calling Claude’s attention back to the present. “But I’ve been interested in it for a long time, and I always try to study and learn as much as I can. You see, my father…” 

Huh, Claude thinks to himself as Annette describes her past in detail she would never, ever willingly share with him. How about that.

  It really is just coincidence that he keeps running into Sylvain, at first. Claude spends so much time in the library it’s rare that he isn’t around when Sylvain pops in to hide from a girl or - much less often - to actually study. But no matter what his purpose is on any given day, Sylvain always manages to find himself a conversation partner (never Claude, though, despite the frequent lingering looks in his direction), and he always, always manages to pull something interesting out of them.

Like when he runs into Bernadetta, who had run from Claude when he’d asked what she’d been working on. Sylvain manages to get her to show him a new chapter in the book she had apparently been writing and she swears him to secrecy over it, not knowing Claude is listening in as he selects a book across the room.

Or like how Sylvain pokes and prods at Dorothea’s taste in literature until she tells him all about how she aspires to be like the singer in the book she’s reading, which she had memorized even before joining the opera. That one stings a little; as much as Claude has tried to flatter her, Dorothea still refuses to grace him with even a single note of her favourite song. 

Sylvain even manages to get Dedue to open him. Dedue, who rarely speaks to anyone who isn’t His Royal Highness. Claude listens to them exchange quiet stories of their childhoods in the back of the library, and wonders what could have possibly coaxed Dedue into smiling like that. 

It’s as frustrating as it is impressive. Sylvain, arguably, has an even worse reputation than Claude himself, and yet while Claude can’t get anyone outside of his own House to open up to him (and even within the Golden Deer, he still has his difficulties), Sylvain manages to pluck the most interesting things about a person straight from their lips without even trying.

Claude wishes he had that kind of talent. He tells himself that’s why he’s so interested in being around Sylvain, but he realizes, when he watches Sylvain coax Marianne into smiling for him, that there’s more to it than that. He doesn’t dare put a name the longing pang in his chest, though; he convinces himself that it’s simply his own curiosity shifting off of the people Sylvain talks to and on to Sylvain himself.

Because for all Claude knows of Sylvain’s reputation, and all he knows about their classmates through him, he knows frighteningly little about the man himself. And that simply will not do.

Claude resolves, as Marianne walks away with pink cheeks and a shy smile peeking out from behind her hand, that he will pick apart the mystery of Sylvain Gautier if it’s the last thing he does.

And if that means continuing to linger around him when he’s chatting with someone else, well… so be it.

  It’s surprisingly easy for Claude to find what he’s looking for, even if Sylvain himself never speaks of his own interests. He’s oddly secretive, deflecting and redirecting conversation with hollow flattery or disinterested shrugs anytime it comes around to him. It may be enough to get his conversation partner to leave him be, but all it does for Claude is intrigue him further, push him even deeper into this strange, budding fascination he’s developed.

But Claude knows how to get around the deflection. He’s careful about picking his moments, and when it comes to Sylvain, he realizes right away that it’s all about finding exactly the right one.

  The first thing Claude finds out that surprises him is Sylvain’s apparent love of board games.

On his way to his usual library table, he passes by Sylvain and Felix sitting across from one another with a chess board between them. A generous amount of Felix’s pieces stand off to the side, and the smile on Sylvain’s face tells Claude he’s all too aware of his impending victory.

But, as invested as Sylvain looks as he studies the pieces, brows knitted in concentration and hand to his mouth in thought, Felix looks completely and utterly bored. 

“Are you going to take much longer?” he demands. “I have better things to do than wait for you to move a piece on a board.” 

“Ah-ah,” Sylvain chides. “Patience, Felix.” 

He moves his piece and knocks Felix’s queen off its square. Sylvain plucks it off the board and adds it to his collection, catching Claude’s eye as he does. His smirk grows impossibly wide, and he honest-to-goddess winks before turning his attention back to the game and waving Felix’s queen tauntingly before him. “You can’t rush perfection.”

No, Claude agrees, heart fluttering. You can’t.

  The next thing Claude learns, when he spots Sylvain and Ignatz together in the library, is that Sylvain likes art.

He sits on a table, one foot resting on it while the other taps away on the bench Ignatz sits on. They chat idly about a portrait of a knight in a book laid out before them on the table, Ignatz’s own sketchbook with rough drawings of armour set off to the side.

“The composition leaves a lot to be desired,” Sylvain says. “If the artist had chosen a slightly darker shade for more contrast… or something else entirely, like maybe a bit of gold… Yeah, that would have been better. Still, the knight’s expression makes up for it. He’s pretty handsome… as all good knights should be, of course. By the way, if you’re looking for a handsome, dashing knight to paint…”

He looks up as Claude approaches, meeting his eye and greeting him with a silent smile (and what a smile he has, too). There’s something there, something playful, something Claude can’t quite place no matter how much he wishes he could. In response, he raises an eyebrow, and whatever it is he thinks he’s caught in Sylvain’s gaze dissipates.

“Speaking of art…” Sylvain nudges Ignatz, effectively cutting off what he was about to say. His eye shifts, like he’s looking right through Claude, and though he’d thought for half a second Sylvain had been addressing him, Claude quickly realizes he can hear some girls chatting behind him. He doesn’t dare turn to look at them, or let himself laugh at the absurdity of his own thoughts, but the temptation is certainly there.

Sylvain hums. “Looks like someone needs to talk to you,” he says. “Later, Ignatz.” 

Sheepishly, Ignatz smiles. “Right. Goodbye, Sylvain.” 

They both stand. Sylvain passes right by Claude, giving him a private smile as he leaves (Speaking of art, indeed). It would have made Claude grin if he wasn’t so frustrated - he had actually been meaning to talk to Sylvain this time. 

Ah, well. Nothing I can do now, he thinks as Ignatz approaches him. Claude gives his fellow Deer a winning smile of his own. 

“Ah, Ignatz, just the man I was looking for,” he lies. “I’ve been doing a bit of light reading on the divine, and I think I might have an idea for your next drawing…”

  He learns that maybe, just maybe, Sylvain is more an actor than he lets on.

Claude doesn’t hear the whole conversation. He only just catches the tail end of it as he enters the library: Sylvain is with a girl; one Claude doesn’t recognize. It’s not an unfamiliar sight, but something about the way she smiles at Sylvain and flutters her lashes at him tightens his stomach.

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” Sylvain says. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, tender as he tries to make it.

“Yes, you will.” The girl turns from him with a sly grin and exits the library, leaving Sylvain all alone.

Well, mostly.

Claude doesn’t mean to look. He really doesn’t. But it’s hard not to when Sylvain sighs like that, chest deflating and shoulders slumping. The smile he’d worn for his lady-of-the-night doesn’t fall from his face so much as shatter like a porcelain mask, replaced with something darker and more… real. If Claude had to put a name to it, he would have called it disdain, but even that doesn’t seem quite right. This look is Sylvain, uncharacteristically natural and unrestrained, and it sends more than one kind of chill through him.

He doesn’t give himself time to dwell on it, because a moment later Sylvain spots Claude out of the corner of his eye and turns away, expression unreadable. He exits the library.

Claude tries not to think about it.

  But then, two nights later, Claude learns that Sylvain is much more genuine and intuitive than he lets on, too.

Claude had been expecting to be alone in the library that night – it was late, and the nagging questions in his mind of what the church was hiding made him restless – but when he hears voices drifting into the hallway from inside, he pauses outside the library door and presses himself against the wall so as not to be seen. He catches Sylvain’s voice first, and then… someone else’s. Are they… is she… crying? 

“Hey, Ingrid, come on…” Sylvain’s voice is low, almost inaudible. Claude holds his breath and sticks to the wall, willing himself into complete stillness and utter silence. He does not want to get caught. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such a bad memory.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Ingrid insists. Claude can hear the quiver in her tone, the hitch in her breath. He wishes he could see Sylvain’s face. “It was my fault. When I saw this book, I… I couldn’t help myself. Glenn used to read it to me and Felix all the time…” 

A heavy sigh and a pause; and then, quiet and fragile, like the whispering of a ghost: “You loved him, didn’t you?” 

Claude leaves before he can hear any more. 

  It takes some time, but Claude finally gets his chance to speak to Sylvain when he finds Teach lecturing him about ‘improper conduct.’ The library is blessedly empty but for the two of them, and so Claude finds it easy to settle in and wait his turn. He doesn’t expect to learn anything from this conversation - about either of them, really - and he doesn’t know how long it’s going to take for Teach’s quiet tirade to end, so he selects a book on war strategies and takes a seat at a nearby table. 

He tries to read, at first, but within the first ten seconds he realizes the attempt is futile. He decides to ignore the book and listen in. 

It’s hard not to, with the way Teach lists off all of the… many, many complaints against Sylvain. Byleth doesn’t sound particularly angry as they speak (when do they ever, though?), but Sylvain sounds uncomfortable all the same when he finally responds. 

“Look, I get it, okay? I’ll make an effort not to be so overt about my flirting…” 

“Sylvain.” 

“Fine, fine! I’ll try not to flirt at all. Better?” 

No response from Teach at first; just a long, drawn-out silence. Claude can see them giving Sylvain the stare-down - one he himself has been subject to many a time for his own brand of ‘improper conduct’ – before they eventually relent with a sigh. “If that’s all I can get out of you…”

The conversation doesn’t last much longer. When Teach finally exits the room, Sylvain is left to slump in his seat and exhale in what Claude can only assume is a mixture of relief, aggravation, and resignation. He straightens up quickly, though, and when he does, he looks right in Claude’s direction.

A sudden smile tugs at Sylvain’s lips; Claude hurriedly looks back down at his book.

There’s movement from Sylvain’s table. Claude doesn’t dare look up, trying to keep the illusion of disinterest going. He debates saying something, though; now is his chance, now that Sylvain is finally alone. Claude’s leg bounces. He bites his lip. What can he say, though? Sylvain is—

A hand covers his book. 

"You can stop pretending to read now."

Claude's eyes snap back into focus and he looks up, bewildered but careful to maintain a straight face. Sylvain stands at eye-level in front of him, bent over the table with one palm flat against the wood and the other firmly on the page Claude hadn’t been reading. 

"Hm?" Easy, Claude. Don’t let him know he’s caught you. With an affected nonchalance, he tilts his head to the side. Sylvain just laughs at him - a small, pleased noise that pulls at Claude’s heartstrings - and leans in close. 

Claude frowns. He doesn’t mind that Sylvain is blocking him from his book, but he knows he needs to keep up the act for… for some reason. “You know that’s my favourite part, right?”

Sylvain sits down. “Uh-huh.” He withdraws his hand and uses it to close the book. Claude does not protest as he pushes it aside, not even bothering to look as the corner of the cover slides over the edge of the table; Sylvain seems much more interested in maintaining eye contact than ensuring the book’s welfare. More interested in studying Claude, gauging him for a reaction. Is he trying to play some kind of game? 

If he is, Claude is all too willing to play with him.

Sylvain props his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his interlocked fingers. "Except you aren’t reading it,” he says. Damn him. “You've been staring at the same sentence for ages. I can't even remember the last time you turned a page.”

Claude smiles easily. He's played this game before. “Oh really,” he says, drawing out the word. “Do you make a habit of watching people while they go about their business, then?" 

"Maybe," Sylvain chimes. Claude isn't sure he likes what the smirk on his face implies, but he can't wait to see where it leads. "Could be something we have in common."

His heart sinks - was he really that obvious? - but his smile widens. Can’t give ground too early, he thinks as he leans in too, arms folded on the table. "Could be. Care to elaborate?" 

"You seem to spend a lot of time in this library. Especially when I’m around.” There's something hidden in Sylvain’s voice, something dark under the forced casual tone, the false familiarity. Suspicion, perhaps? Or something else? 

"Is that so?" Claude speaks as if making a statement, not asking a question. 

"Yeah." Sylvain nods. His smile never falters, but his eyes narrow a little, just the slightest droop of the eyelids, enough to say that he's looking for something. "Every time I turn around, there you are. Call me curious."

Claude shrugs with one shoulder, closes one eye in a lazy wink. "Does there have to be a why? Maybe it's just coincidence."

"Coincidence that any time I have a conversation with someone, you show up and make yourself comfortable? You, the guy who never seems to do anything 'just because?'" Sylvain snorts and shakes his head. "Come on, Claude. I know I may act like an idiot, but you've got to give me some credit."

Finally, Claude lets his smile drop. He sighs, knowing he’s been beaten. If there's one thing he's learned about Sylvain in these last few weeks, it's that he's anything but an idiot. He might even be too perceptive for his own good. 

"Fine," he says at last, though not without some bitterness. He hates being forced to play his hand. "You caught me." 

"Not sure it counts if you're trying to get caught." Sylvain's voice drops along with his gaze, and for a moment Claude wonders if Sylvain really does know. But he keeps his own gaze and his expression steady, determined not to let on any more than Sylvain thinks he has. 

"Trying to get caught, huh?" he repeats. "And why would I want to do that?" 

“I can think of a few reasons…" 

It's a stupid line and Claude knows it - knows it's one of the many he's used on girls in the past and he shouldn't let it get to him, but he feels goosebumps prickle up his arm anyway. He curses himself for it at the same time he thanks the stars his uniform has long sleeves. "Uh-huh. Take me to dinner first and I'll think about it."

Sylvain raises a brow as he studies Claude once more. The corner of his mouth tugs upward into a grin, and Claude immediately recognizes the signs that he’s about to lose control over the conversation. He cuts Sylvain off before he seizes the opportunity.

"Simmer down, pretty boy. Much as I know you'd like a piece of this, that wasn't why I was hanging around you." Something sits funny in his gut as he says it - Because it’s a lie - but Claude doesn't give himself time to dwell. "It's actually… Look. I know this is going to sound stupid, but… nobody trusts me around here." 

He frowns and decides that now would be a good time to look past Sylvain so that he doesn't have to see those lovely brown eyes agreeing with him. Self-defense, as always. "I don't know if you know this, but I've earned myself a bit of a reputation. I'm a schemer, right? I don't bother to hide it.” He frowns. “So, Sylvain, with that in mind… what would your reaction be if I, the untrustworthy and heretofore unheard-of heir to House Riegan, just came up to you out of the blue and struck up a conversation?"

Sylvain leans back, hands behind his head. He grins and winks. "'Hey, gorgeous.'"

Claude kicks him lightly under the table, but he can’t quite suppress the smile that stretches over his features. "Knock it off; I'm being serious."

"So am I!" But Sylvain laughs despite the insistence in his tone. "I take it not everyone's as willing to play nice as I am, though."

"Nope." Claude crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Everyone thinks I'm up to something, or that I have some kind of ulterior motive in getting to know them. They're not wrong," he adds before Sylvain can interject. "But it's left me a little short on friends."

"So you've been following me because… you want to be friends with me?" Sylvain's brows furrow. Confusion looks good on him, out of place as it is.

"Oh, no." Claude laughs. "If that was all I wanted, I would've asked you to play chess with me or something. And don't even try to tell me you wouldn't accept,” he adds. “I saw the way your eyes just lit up." 

Sylvain frowns, that little spark of intrigue Claude had caught extinguishing just as quickly as it had blinked into existence. He’s sad to see it go, but that doesn't outweigh the feeling of victory that warms his chest. He continues: "I've been lingering around you - not following you - because you're good at getting people to open up."

"So you were looking for pointers." Sylvain frowns, like he still doesn't quite get it. No real surprise there; he still hasn’t quite made it to Claude’s finish line. 

"Wrong again!" Claude waggles a finger reproachfully at Sylvain. "I was looking to learn something, sure. But not about how to get people to open up."

At last, something clicks. Sylvain’s eyebrows rise up past his bangs. "You were getting me to open them up for you."

"Now you've got it." Claude leans forward to rest his arms on the table again. Sylvain's eyes narrow and he lifts a hand to his mouth, knuckle to his lips. 

"That's so… devious," he says. And then he breaks into a grin. "...I'm kind of into it."

"I thought you might be," Claude lies. He tries to ignore the pounding of his heart, part relief and part affection. There was always a chance Sylvain would be fine with it - the more Claude had watched him, the more alike he had realized they were, after all - but there was also the chance that he'd be furious, and he isn't sure if he'd have been okay with that result. "You're quite the wingman, you know. Even when you're not aware of it."

"I'm good at lots of other things, too." He lowers his voice again, both in tone and volume, and licks his lips. Claude swears he sees Sylvain's eyes dart downward again, but he tries to ignore the way that makes his heart beat, too. "I could show you sometime, if you like."

He tries to play it cool. "Now that you mention it, there is someone else I'd like to get to know better…"

"Oh yeah?" Sylvain looks genuinely intrigued. "Tell me everything."

"Well, we're in different houses, for one thing." Claude holds up a finger on the word one.

"Right, of course." Sylvain nods. "Why would you need my help talking to someone in your own house?" 

"Exactly! They're kind of obligated to talk to me." Claude snickers. If only that were true. "I knew you'd understand."

"Mhm. So if you need me, then you're probably interested in someone from the Blue Lions…" 

Claude nods. "Yup. You might even know them."

"Oh?"

"They're clever, perceptive, take all the worst opportunities to make jokes…" Claude laughs. "Or pretend to, anyway. And they're unbelievably attractive…"

"Ohh…?" Sylvain's smirk spreads, catlike, and his eyes narrow even more. He's practically making bedroom eyes at Claude by now, and it's all the Golden Deer leader can do to meet them with a straight face. "They sound like a charmer. Never mind helping you out with them; can you introduce us?" 

Claude shrugs nonchalantly. "I dunno, I get the impression they're already interested in someone else."

The quirk of a brow, and Sylvain's smirk twists into something more amused. "And who might this mystery man be?" 

"Well, he's dashing, smart, and always seems to have an ulterior motive for everything…" 

Claude meets Sylvain's gaze and holds it. He's still smiling, but he's acutely aware that it doesn't meet his eyes. He's studying Sylvain for a reaction this time, searching for whatever he's not getting on the surface. He can see something has definitely shifted, though; Sylvain has gone from easy flirtation to something a little more guarded, a little more careful. He's analyzing Claude just as much as Claude is him. 

But finally, after what feels like hours, Sylvain breaks the silence. "... So," he begins slowly. "How does this mystery man feel about them…?" 

It's like a weight is lifted from Claude's shoulders. Sylvain is curious - he's moving cautiously, afraid to reveal too much of his own hand - but he's receptive, at least.  And Claude has already come too far not to play every card he's got. 

"I'm not sure yet," he admits. "I was hoping I could find out over dinner."

"Ha!" Sylvain pulls back, lifting a fist to his mouth in an incredibly poor attempt to hide his wide, toothy grin. His knuckle bumps his teeth; his shoulders shake with held-back laughter. 

Claude tilts his head to the side, careful to maintain a curious, but amused expression. He wishes Sylvain would quit laughing and answer the damn proposition, but as with all things, he knows to be patient with this. 

Eventually, Sylvain’s silent amusement gives way to actual laughter. Claude feels a small jab of annoyance hit him in the chest, but it flashes like lightning and vanishes a split second later when he realizes it's pleased laughter, not mocking.

Even so, Sylvain trembles, and Claude manages to realize that it’s not with mirth, but nerves. It’s a subtle difference, one he has only come to recognize from so frequently seeing someone come close to piercing Sylvain’s careful façade.

"Ha ha… did you just… Did you seriously just ask me out on a date?" he asks, incredulous. "Damn. I gotta say, I'm not used to being the one asked out.” He pauses and looks away, scratching his cheek without realizing he’s drawing attention to how red it’s become. “It's… kinda nice."

"It'd be nicer if you said yes," Claude says, voice a thousand times calmer than he feels. It hits him all at once that yes, he really did just ask someone out on a date (but he's not just someone, is he? He’s Sylvain Gautier, who’s left a hundred hearts broken in his wake), and that he's tantalizingly close to actually getting one.

He just needs to make one more small push. "Tomorrow night?” Claude holds out a hand, palm-up. Sylvain looks down at it, and his hand twitches as if he wants to reach out and take it, but doesn’t yet dare. “We could go into town."

Sylvain takes a deep breath. His smile isn't quite… gone gone, but it's definitely morphed into something… different. Claude isn't sure what to call it - curious, perhaps? Disbelieving?

…Or maybe even pleased, if he dares to give himself that hope? 

Sylvain meets his eye. Holds his gaze. "Wow," he breathes. "You… you really are serious about this, huh?" 

Claude winks. Sylvain's face turns an even darker shade of red. 

"You know…" He looks away again, he grumbling into his hand as if he is suddenly unable to meet Claude's eyes. "There's a joke in here somewhere. Something about deer and lions…"

"Tell it to me over dinner." He's pushing it a bit hard now and he knows it, but the way Sylvain's lips twitch on a huff of laughter tells him it's a very welcome push. 

"R-right. Okay… yeah. Yeah, sure, why not? I’d like that. It sounds like a good time." He laughs again, a sound caught between disbelief and giddy satisfaction, and Claude finally permits himself to believe that the look on Sylvain's face now is one of genuine excitement. He's learned how to tell when Sylvain is acting for someone else's sake, and at the moment his countenance bears no sign of its usual pretense. Sylvain’s smile now isn’t the kind he usually wears: he is not waiting for someone to turn their back, not forcing anything he isn’t actually feeling. This smile is real, genuine. One of the few Claude has ever caught him wearing.

It’s… nice. And that is all Claude will allow himself to think.

"Great," he says, maybe a little too loudly. He tries to calm himself, taking a long breath through his nose in an attempt to still the furious beating of his heart. He's certain he must look like he's vibrating with the intensity of it. "I'll come get you sometime around… Hm, after the evening bell goes off?" 

It takes Sylvain a moment to compose himself, like he can hardly believe what he's hearing. Claude can't blame him – he’d never meant to take the game this far, even though it had been his end goal for a while. But Sylvain does manage to pull himself together, slipping his mask back on like it had never fallen away. And then it's right back to his old self, reaching (at last) for Claude's hand and taking it in his own. He grins flirtatiously as he turns it over in his palm.

Claude raises an eyebrow, simultaneously asking what Sylvain is doing and giving him permission to go ahead with it.

Sylvain does not disappoint. He grins and lifts Claude’s hand to his lips, closing his eyes as he leans forward to lay a ghost-like kiss on each knuckle. When he finishes, he gazes up at Claude from under his long, long eyelashes. "It's a date."

Damn him, he’s good. Claude swallows the lump in his throat, fights down the flush on his cheeks. “Can’t wait,” he says, a teasing tone to his voice.

Sylvain nods, a tiny jerk of the head (is he surprised he didn’t get a stronger reaction out of Claude?), and lets his hand go. He lingers a moment, once again holding Claude’s gaze, as if he’s trying to figure something out. But then he blinks, stands, and turns to leave.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Claude waves goodbye and happily watches him head to the library door. “Yes, you will. Just don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Handsome guy like you?” Sylvain pauses to turn, wink, and blow a kiss in Claude’s direction. “I would never even dream of it.”

It’s unbelievably cheesy, but it’s Sylvain’s way of getting the last word in. Somehow, Claude finds he doesn’t even mind the embarrassed flush that creeps up his neck in response as Sylvain smirks at him over his shoulder. How can he, when in the end they’ve both gotten exactly what they want? 

Claude smiles. Tomorrow night is going to be fun.

[bae-leth]

I had a bunch more stuff I wanted to say about Faris and Natalia’s relationship in the Fraldarddyd family AU but I thought it would be easier on everyone to put all my thoughts in one submissions instead of sending a dozen asks this time. Also, lol, I can’t believe I keep coincidentally giving these characters the names of your relatives, what the heck???

Let’s just go over Faris first. He’s a friendly and social guy. He’s obsessed with the stars and can talk about them for hours if given the chance. He’s a smart guy and super politically savvy, perfectly at home in even the most cutthroat political climates. He’s known to be very mischievous and prone to pranks, though the less he likes you then the harsher his pranks can be. He and Natalia are the same age but he’s a couple months younger, which she loves to hold over him especially after he grows taller than her. He and Zain are pretty close despite Zain loving to give his little brother shit whenever possible. I see him being magically gifted, so I imagine him as a Warlock. I see him mainly taking after Claude in terms of looks (I don’t really have a spouse in mind for Claude in this AU so I’m leaving that part kinda vague).

Strengths – Reason, Authority; Weaknesses – Axe, Brawl, Heavy Armor; Budding Talent - Lance

Zain is two years older than Faris and basically anyone who meets him considers him a stern and serious no-nonsense kind of crown prince. This is how he’s like around most people. However he allows himself to relax and show off a much more playful, emotional, teasing side around people he trusts wholeheartedly (his immediate family and a small handful of friends). He resembles his brother in having the same eye color and skin tone, but Zain looks much more rugged and mature. Unlike Faris he is perfectly at home on the battlefield, being a renowned Sniper with plenty of victories to his name. He never became a Barbarossa like his dad cause he’s scared of heights. He enjoys the ocean a ton, so he’s always up for ocean voyages and will take any and every chance to explore coastlines.

Strengths - Bow, Axe, Authority; Weaknesses – Faith, Flying; Budding Talent - Riding

The whole engagement thing between Faris and Natalia is largely unofficial and both sides mainly just want their kids to become close to promote good relations between Fodlan and Almyra. Although things would really work out the best if the pair did become romantically involved but no one is really pushy about it. Especially since Faris and Natalia just do NOT like each other. Honestly the only thing stopping the first meeting between the royal children from being a complete disaster is that both Faris and Zain quickly become attached to Artemis (prince of stealing hearts without even trying). Faris and Artemis latch onto each other since they have so much in common (second princes, good at magic, similar weaknesses, bookworms, etc) while Zain ends up considering Artemis like another little brother while Artemis really look up to Zain (it’s thanks to Zain that Artemis’ budding talent is bows). Also Zain actually ends up being friendly with Natalia too (he likes her strong, honest personality and honestly he finds the disaster that is hers and Faris’ relationship hilarious, plus she thinks he’s super cool and likes sparring with him). So it’s literally just Natalia and Faris at odds with each other.

“If you like Artemis so much, why don’t you marry him instead?!” “Maybe I will!” “Fine!” “Fine!” “FINE!” “FINE!!!” *Zain and Artemis in the background, talking about their favorite desserts and not getting involved in their siblings’ fight*

“Claude I’m starting to doubt if this will work out. The two of them hate each other.” “Well Felix hated you plenty for a few years and look at you now. Adorable little lovebirds, a love story perfect for the bards to sing of!” “Listen here you little-” “Felix please.”

In order to try and help Natalia and Faris get along they’re both sent to visit each other’s homeland a bunch over the years. Occasionally the whole family goes but the rulers can’t keep running off all the time. So most of the time it’s Natalia (and Artemis because Natalia barricaded herself in her room until her dads agreed to let her take Artemis along “to see that stupid Faris’ face”) visiting Almyra for several weeks and then a little while later it’s Faris visiting Fodlan, particularly Faerghus, for several weeks (only bringing Zain when he’s in a particularly bad mood thanks to Natalia since Zain keeps making fun of him otherwise).

Faris is kinda sorta okay when he’s in Faerghus, even though it’s absurdly cold most of the time. Hell, every time he thinks he’s wearing enough the weather proves him wrong. Natalia keeps laughing at him when he has to dress up like a marshmallow in order to go out in Faerghus winters. Natalia is very brutal in snowball fights…RIP Faris. He definitely prefers to stay inside by the fireplace, though Natalia is insistent on dragging him outside. It usually ends in him spending the last few days of his stay sick in bed.

Natalia, like Dimitri, is dead in heat so every time she goes to Almyra she spends around a week just laying on her bed wearing as little as proper manners will allow. Faris alternates between “helping” by practicing his ice magic on her or otherwise relying on her need to do better than him to goad her into playing with him. Though he had to lay off on that after Natalia got heatstroke once.

Natalia considers it a personal insult that her beloved horse absolutely adores Faris when he’s usually very picky about who he allows near him (“Ares, how could you do this to me?!” *neighs* “Oh don’t give me that attitude young man!”)

Faris, in the meanwhile, is not pleased by how his retainers-in-the-making are absolutely smitten with Natalia (“Did you see her in yesterday’s spar with the new recruits? She could break my spine and I’d thank her.” “Please, sweet embrace of death, come for me.”)

Artemis and Zain start being regular pen pals as they compare archery notes, seek advice from one prince to another, talk about recent events in their homeland and in their lives, and complain about their siblings/commentate on whether or not they’ll get together.

“I don’t know, Zain, after that incident with the birds Sister said, and I quote, ‘The next time I see that scrawny piece of *ahem* garbage, he’s dead. Almyra will be down a prince and they’ll be all the better for it.’ So I’m saying no.” “I’d agree with you, especially since Faris has been disturbingly interested in researching dark magic after eating those ‘super special Faerghus delicacies’ Natalia brought last time. But for as social as he is my brother is normally never so obsessed with anyone, so I think we may have a romance for the ages on our hands, my friend!”

The two of them play PLENTY of stupid pranks on each other over the years. Sometimes they flat out got into physical fights with each other. The people of Fodlan and Almyra have long since gotten used to the sound of Faris and Natalia yelling at each other and then the sound of crashing and punching.

That being said, not everything was bad between them. That one time Natalia got heatstroke, Faris was genuinely apologetic and worried about her and kept her company while she was bedridden. Likewise Natalia does feel bad when she keeps getting Faris sick while trying to show off Faerghus to him and will read him adventure stories to pass the time. Also I love the idea you mentioned of Faris trying to help Natalia get over her low spice intolerance (to mixed results, Natalia’s just glad she no longer downs an entire pitcher of water on her own after eating Almyran food). One time when a Faerghus noble child made a snide remark about Faris being Almyran, Natalia tackled the brat to the ground.

Faris, holding a tissue to Natalia’s bloody nose: “I thought you didn’t like me.” Natalia, very obviously confused: “??? What does not liking you have to do with you being Almyran?” Faris: “Heh, I suppose you’re right for once.”

“Zain, I think I want to change my opinion. Sister and Faris may have more of a chance than I originally thought.” “What did I tell you, Artemis? Romance for the ages…”

As the years pass and Natalia and Faris both grow and mature and mellow out, the two of them start to consider each other friends. They speak more, debate more, discuss their interests more, and slowly start to enjoy spending time together. Eventually it gets to the point where the two of them joke around about their kinda sorta engagement to each other. Natalia singing the absolute worst love songs while Faris writes the cheesiest poetry and love letters imaginable. Calling each other cutesy pet names, those kind of shenanigans.

Honestly, they mostly do it just to fuck with poor Zain and Artemis, who didn’t ask for this bullshit but are stuck with it anyways.

“Artemis, I need you to kill me, I can’t tolerate them anymore.” “Come now, Zain, it’s not so bad! Hey, why don’t we go for a ride on Altena? That always calms me down!” “I cannot stress enough how much I would rather die than do that…” “What are you trying to say about my sweet Altena, huh?” “Would you stop taking it as an insult against your wyvern every time?!”

Natalia starts teaching Faris about fighting with lances. And Faris helps Natalia grow more used to handling politics.

Honestly, there was something special growing between them for quite some time after they started getting along better, but neither of them really recognized what it could be. But they kept getting closer and closer as time passed. At public events they stuck by each other’s side and often danced together. They were seen going off on rides together or just taking walks while talking.

Faris is the first one to recognize his feelings when he comes along to help Natalia out with a skirmish. The pair make a great team in battle, covering for each other’s weaknesses well. Faris, too exhausted after a large number of enemies surrounded him, is almost taken down from behind when Natalia saves him. His joke has a fair amount of relief and gratitude in it when he says “Thanks for the help, sweetheart!” But WOW when Natalia turns to him with the most dazzling smile on her face, looking like she practically glowing with the sun behind her, Faris feels like his heart stops. “Anytime, honey!” And Faris just keeps staring after her as she rushes off after another enemy.

Natalia was always pretty but Faris has never actually acknowledged how pretty until that moment. And his heart won’t stop racing, her smile and voice still in his head. And oh fuck, oh shit, he knows exactly what this is…

“Zain, you umm…you wouldn’t happen to know when the next visit to Fodlan is, would you?” “…Why do you ask, my dear little brother? :))))))” “…Are you going to tell Arty about this?” *Zain, pulling out a piece of parchment and quill* “What gives you that idea????”

Faris regrets everything when his parents and brother don’t let him live it down that he’s now realized he’s in love with Natalia. “Whatever happened to ‘I’d rather become a hermit and die alone and unloved on a barren mountain than ever marry her’ Faris? Seven-year-old you was soooo dramatic!” “Father, please.”

Things don’t change too significantly after Faris’ realization. But there are changes. He’s noticeably softer around Natalia, smiling gently around her or going along with her wishes more easily. Most of his pranks towards her tone down to being things that give her pleasant surprises. The most significant change comes from the love letters and poems purposefully written badly for jokes slowly becoming more sincere sounding and really sweet.

Natalia doesn’t know what to make of the changes. They’re odd but she’s more surprised by how much she enjoys it. She even reads Faris’ letters and poems over and over well into the night. A warm and peaceful feeling spreads through her every time she gets a new letter from Faris or he holds her closer than usual during a dance.

She doesn’t realize it’s love until sometime later when she visits Almyra. Faris is so bright and excited as he drags her outside in the dead of night because the skies are so clear that you can see way more stars than normal and it’s soooo beautiful. Faris happily explains the stories behind all the different constellations and laughs so happily recalling some of his favorite tales. Natalia stares and stares at him and thinks that she could watch him smile and laugh like that forever. At some point Faris starts holding her hands and pulls her close to him as he keeps pointing out constellations and telling her stories. And Natalia tries so hard to concentrate on his words but all she can focus on is his hands and how warm they are and so much bigger than hers and how she wants him to keep holding her and-Oh. Ooohhhh…Oh fuck…

“So, Sister, you enjoyed your last visit to Almyra a lot, didn’t you?” “Hmm? What gave that away, Artemis?” *Natalia, lying on her bed surrounded by all of Faris’ letters and poems to her, giggling to herself as she reads them* “…Just a hunch.”

“Felix, it seems Claude was right. He tells me Faris is rather obviously smitten. And it’s easy to tell Natalia is in love. While I’m sad at how quickly the children are growing up, it’s wonderful to see them so happy, isn’t it?” “Uh-huh yeah sure, do you think this blade is sharp enough or should I take it back to the blacksmith? I want it ready before the Almyrans come visit next month.” “…Why are you-?” “You know damn well why.” “Felix.”

“Well it seems you and I will get to call each other ‘brother’ soon enough, Artemis! Or well, hopefully soon enough. It depends on how long it takes our stubborn siblings to take those final steps.” “Agreed. But I’ve already thought of you as my brother for a long time now, Zain. We’ve known each other for so many years! Your one of my dearest friends and my brother in all but blood. :)” “…” “??? Zain, are you crying-?” “*sobs* NO, I’m not!”

[angrylizardjacket]

Asher Kids Do An Interview

Choose an OC.

Answer them as that OC.

Tag 5 people to do the same.

Tagging @siriuslymooned​ @sam-writes​ @toplesstaylor​ @rogerandhishair​ and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!!

[aydtd]

Note: Astrid is the oldest. Cate is the middlest. Barney is the youngest.

1. What is your name?

Cate: Cate Taylor.

Barney: Barney Clarke- Taylor... Sun. 

Astrid: Astrid Taylor.

2. Do you know why are you named that?

Cate: It’s short for Catherine.

Astrid: Is that what it’s short for?

Cate: Shut up.

Barney: What are you short for?

Astrid: That’s just how I grew.

Barney: You grew?

Astrid: I didn’t come out of ma at five-foot nothin’, yeah I fuckin’ grew, ya turnip.

Cate: Barney’s short for Barnabus.

Astrid: Barney’s short for a giant.

Barney: Taller than both of you.

Astrid: Taller than everyone.

Cate: ’s not difficult to be taller than Trid.

Astrid: Shut it; Barney what’s the deal with your last name?

Barney: Clarke is my professional name, I was born a Taylor, and I married into Sun. So legally I’m Barnabus Sun-Taylor, but I’m usually credited professionally as Barney Clarke.

Astrid: Huh. Nice; I didn’t realise you and Mickey [Barney’s partner] hyphenated. I’m named Astrid ‘cos dad liked how it sounded.

3. Are you single or taken?

Barney: Taken. [Barney wiggles the fingers off his left hand, to show where a wedding ring sits neatly on his ring finger.]

Cate: Taken? Taken. Not married though, almost made that mistake before.

Astrid: Single as.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

[There’s a long silence, the three of them look at one another with confusion.]

Barney: I played a superhero once.

Astrid: Oh yeah, you were good in that, what was it-?

Barney: X-Men.

Cate: Did you really forget X-Men?

Astrid: He’s been in a lot of movies!

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

Cate: The next time you read an alcoholic, lesbian, disaster Mary Sue, can you please send me a link? 

Astrid: Hey!

Barney: I’m pretty sure it’s ‘Gary Stu’ for me?

Cate: You’re not a Gary Stu... Actually-

Astrid: Maybe a little?

Barney: I’m successful, there’s a difference, I think.

Cate: (amused) Did you put yourself through the litmus test?

Astrid: There’s a litmus test?

6. What’s your eye color?

Astrid: Blue.

Cate: Blue.

Barney: Ma’s eyes all the way; green.

7. How about your hair color?

Barney: Ginger.

Cate: I dunno, I think I’d consider myself a strawberry blonde.

Astrid: We’re a weird sliding scale between mum and dad; I’ve got dad’s blonde hair.

8. Have any family members?

[They look at each other with amusement.]

Astrid: (sarcastically) No, I’ve never seen these people before in my life.

9. Oh? How about pets?

Cate: My daughter’s been asking about getting a dog and I’m pretty sure Joe’s gonna get her one if he gets wind of how much she wants it. 

Astrid: God, imagine her little face if Joe gets her a puppy, oh Christ.

Cate: She’d cry, she’d absolutely cry, like happy tears but... oh, God I’m gonna get a dog aren’t I?

Barney: Pets are great; I love Sir more every day.

Astrid: I hope [Cate’s] dog is nothing like Sir, that cat is an asshole-

Barney: Only to you.

Astrid: Barn, your cat is an asshole.

Barney: You’re an asshole.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

Astrid: Barney’s fucking cat.

Barney: Astrid.

Cate: Calm down you babies. I don’t like wearing high heels.

Astrid: Seconded.

Barney: Thirded.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

Barney: I box.

Astrid: That’s your go-to, isn’t it?

Barney: Fine, I also enjoy swimming, spending time with Mickey, and mixing drinks. 

Cate: That’s cute.

Astrid: I enjoy drinking the drinks he mixes.

Cate: That’s less cute.

Barney: Drinking isn’t a hobby.

Astrid: Alright, I enjoy going to pubs to listen to music, driving fast cars, and spending time with pretty people.

Cate: Yeah, that checks out. I don’t have a lot of time for hobbies, though I play music, my bass mostly, and, ah, studying languages I guess. And spending time with Claud [her daughter], obviously.

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

Astrid: Bar fights, mostly. Smacked a few assholes who’ve heckled Barn’s movies while I’m trying to watch them.

Barney: That’s actually kind of sweet. I’ve only been in one bar fight, and Trid finished that guy off, but other than that, and a few stunts gone wrong, a few hits in boxing, not really.

Cate: (visibly uncomfortable) Not, uh, not physically.

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

Astrid: What the fuck? No.

14. What kind of animal are you?

Cate: I think I’m a meerkat.

[Astrid immediately raises her hands up to her chest like paws, perking up and looking around, imitating a meerkat. Cate smiles, and imitates the gesture.]

Barney: Yeah, I can see it. Trid’s that terribly taxidermied- ah, [he pulls out his phone, and taps away at the screen for a moment] cheetah! 

[Astrid shoves him, but both he and Cate are laughing.]

Astrid: You’re your asshole cat.

15. Name your worst habits?

Barney: Oh, Mickey actually hit the nail on the head when we did the Husband Tag on their channel the other day- follow Mickey, they’re sunteamick, all one word, on YouTube.

Cate: What did they say?

Barney: I’m too unperturbed.

Astrid: You’re too chill?

Barney: They said I’m a danger to myself because of it; got hit in the face at boxing a few months ago, broke my nose - not the first time, but still not pleasant - and went home instead of to the hospital because I didn’t think it was that bad. It wasn’t; I still should have gone to hospital but it wasn’t that bad. Much worse things could have happened, it’s just a nose.

Cate: You need to be more perturbed?

Barney: I need to be more perturbed.

Astrid: Being unperturbed isn’t exactly a habit.

Barney: I also leave the cap off the toothpaste after I use it.

Cate: That’s bad and you should feel bad.

Barney: I do, but I’ll never change. It perturbs Mickey.

Astrid: My worst habit is that - I’m a stunt driver sometimes, right, and I do mad dangerous stunts, and every time I get injured or have like, a near death experience, I don’t think like ‘oh maybe I should slow down’, I think ‘how long until I can get this fuckin’ cast off and get back behind the wheel?’.

Cate: You’re an adrenaline junkie.

Astrid: But only with dangerous car stunts.

Barney: You perturb me.

Astrid: Good.

Cate: I bite my nails.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Astrid: Physically or metaphorically?

Barney: You look up to everyone physically. 

[Note; Barney Clarke is 6′4. Astrid Taylor is 5′0.]

Cate: Our parents, obviously. They’re very successful, and have been through a lot. I grew up idolising them because they’re my parents, but as I came to know more about them as people, it was just natural to idolise them as people too.

Barney: Yeah, mum and dad, also Alec Baldwin.

Cate: Alec Baldwin, really? I wouldn’t have picked that.

Barney: Did you see him in Streetcar? [he hums appreciatively] That man’s career, his talent, all the stuff of legend. Meryl Streep, too.

Cate: Yeah no, I get that.

Astrid: Meryl Streep can get it.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

Barney: Uh, I’m pan?

Cate: I’m probably on the asexual spectrum, I haven’t thought about it in a while. Not aromantic though, I guess I’d be bi or pan romantic? Queer. I’m queer.

Astrid: I’m- look at me, I’m a whole damn lesbian.

18. Do you go to school?

Astrid: I take a few classes here and there, but I actually didn’t finish high school, dropped out in Year 10 with my parent’s blessing and started working as a mechanic.

Cate: I haven’t studied in a while but I have a Masters in Public Relations.

Astrid: And she speaks like eight languages.

Cate: Five.

Astrid: Still, you’re a very impressive lady.

Cate: Thanks, Trid. 

Barney: I finished high school, but I’ve been working pretty steadily since then, don’t have a degree or anything.

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

Cate: I’ve got Claud, I almost married her dad, but... but that would have been bad for everyone. I’m not in a hurry to get married, let’s say.

Barney: Mickey and I don’t really want to be parents just yet, maybe one day, but we’re happy just spoiling Claud when we can.

Astrid: Oh, absolutely seconded; that kid is terrifyingly sweet for how spoiled she is.

Barney: She’s so great.

Cate: She really is.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

Astrid: I run a Barney stan account on Twitter.

Barney: Really?

Astrid: Fuck no, but he does actually have fans.

Cate: I guess we all have fans in our own way, but a lot of that, like minus Barney, who’s genuinely a star, is more because of mum and dad.

Astrid: Imagine if Claud grows up to be a Queen stan on tumblr.

Cate: That’s horrifying.

21. What are you most afraid of?

Cate: The concept of Claud finding smut about Joe.

Astrid: The concept that Cate’s found and read smut about Joe.

Barney: Why would she need it? Couldn’t she just-

Astrid: Maybe before they were together?

Cate: I hate you both.

Barney: Well, that’s not a ‘no I haven’t read smut about my boyfriend’. Also I’m afraid of submarines.

Astrid: Submarines?

Barney: The big hole in the front of them gives me anxiety.

22. What do you usually wear?

Barney: Astrid doesn’t get to answer this one because she doesn’t know what fashion is, and dresses like a single dad in the middle of his mid-life crisis.

[Astrid shrugs but keeps quiet; her shorts have oil stains on them.]

Barney: Good. I’m a fan of colourful button-downs and slacks.

Astrid: Gucci [pronounced Gucky, like ducky but with a G] button-downs, you mean. 

Barney: (quietly, but with a lot of feeling) I hate you.

[Cate is laughing too hard to answer. She wears a pastel sweater and well fitting jeans.]

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

Astrid: Kracken Rum.

Cate: That doesn’t count as food.

Astrid: I’m not changing my answer.

Cate: Fine. Original Glaze Krispy Cream Donuts.

Barney: Like the ones dad used to buy us when we’d visit him on tour in America?

Cate: Yeah! God they’re good.

Barney: I’m always tempted by whatever Mickey cooks, though they don’t do it a lot. I usually cook. I enjoy it a lot.

24. Am I annoying to you?

Cate: No, you’re fine.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Astrid: How many questions left?

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

[All three of them seem to become uncomfortable with the question.]

Cate: We- we’re comfortable. Our parents are Roger and Ash Taylor, we’ll always be comfortable.

27. How many friends do you have?

Cate: I’d say we’ve all got good circles - very different circles, sure-

Barney: If Astrid could stop collecting my pretty-boy costars that is.

Astrid: (smugly) It’s not my fault I’m good at making friends with your pretty-boy costars.

Barney: I’m glad people don’t realise we’re related, sometimes.

Astrid: Because I embarrass you?

Barney: (grumbling under his breath) Because everyone thinks you’re cooler than me.

Astrid: Men are so easy to get; look good, drive fast, and drink hard. Once they find out I’m gay and I can help wingman them really well, and maybe fix their cars, I’ve got ‘em, hook, line, and sinker.

Barney: That’s a bit of a generalisation, don’t you think?

Astrid: Fine; pretty boys in Hollywood are easy to get. 

Barney: That much I’ll give you.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

Cate: Actually, Barney, that apple pie you made for Easter was stunning, I was meaning to tell you.

Astrid: Easter was months ago.

Cate: I’ve been busy!

Barney: Thanks, I can send you the recipe if you like.

Cate: I’d never have the time to cook it.

Barney: I’ll make it for you again, then. 

29. Favorite drink?

Astrid: Kracken. Rum.

Barney: Peanut butter and chocolate milkshake.

Cate: (again, uncomfortable) Orange juice, I guess.

30. What’s your favorite place?

Barney: The kitchen of my LA apartment, with a roast dinner in the oven and Mickey sitting at the kitchen island talking to me about their day.

Cate: Awww!

Astrid: That’s really sweet, Barn.

Cate: Well mine’s probably being side of stage at one of dad’s concerts with Claud with me.

Astrid: (quiet) Mine’s gonna sound stupid.

Cate: No, it’s- well, maybe.

Astrid: It’s just- I don’t really have like a favourite favourite place, you know? I have like, moments with people that just stick with me. Like, I shared a cigarette with Ben [Hardy] during one of Cate’s gigs and I just remember talking and laughing and looking up at the stars, and I could hear my talented as all fuck sister playing inside, and I just- it was lovely. 

Cate: Trid...

Astrid: And you know, I do remember X-Men, you know? Because when you flew with that scream-thing you do in the movie? I fucking cried. I was so fucking proud, dude. My favourite place is in a cinema watching my little brother on the big screen, or at a bar watching my sister smash out some of the best rock and roll of our generation, or watching dad play, or seeing mum’s smile when she’s finally happy with an outfit- fuck, sorry I didn’t mean to get all sappy and shit.

Barney: No- Trid, no, don’t apologise.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

Astrid: Not in a long-term sense.

[Cate and Barney share a frown, before turning their identical ‘are you kidding me?’ looks on the interviewer.]

32. That was a stupid question…

Barney: Yeah, I’m married.

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

Cate: Ocean, always the ocean.

Barney: Yeah, I’m with you on that one.

Astrid: But the ocean has submarines in it.

Barney: Well I can’t see them so it’s fine.

Astrid: Fair cop, I also have to say ocean.

34. What’s your type?

Astrid: (teasingly) Cate likes cute, goofy actors with dumb perms and big grins and-

Cate: Astrid likes all girls ever, especially if they buy her a drink.

Astrid: Guilty as charged.

Barney: Two opposite ends of the spectrum? Every girl ever and Joe Mazzello specifically?

Cate: ... Pretty much.

35. Any fetishes?

[Astrid opens her mouth, but Cate smacks her hand over her mouth.]

Cate: That’s information I don’t need to know about my sister, thanks.

Barney: (grinning) Bondage.

Astrid: (muffled) Nice.

Cate: Christ.

Barney: That’s the tame shit, Catie.

Cate: You are my Baby Brother, shut your mouth. Ow!

[Astrid has bitten Cate’s hand. She removes her hand from Astrid’s mouth.]

Barney: I’m a married man!

Cate: I don’t want to know what you guys are into, and I don’t want you to know what I’m into, okay? We all know too much about our own family, I’d like some modicum of privacy.

Astrid: Yeah, after you see your mum bare it all in a photoshoot from the seventies with Bowie, life does get a little weird.

Barney: Oh, I forgot about that. Okay, moving on.

36. Camping or outdoors?

Astrid: Camper van.

Barney: I like hiking, but not really camping.

Cate: Claud camps in the backyard sometimes, it’s fun to join her, sometimes we stargaze.

Astrid: That’s a grossly cute image to end on.

Barney: Does Joe stargaze with you guys?

Cate: (blushing) Once or twice. Claud fell asleep on him last time. It was pretty cute.

Astrid: Oh that’s actually really cute.

Cate: Yeah, it was.

[edelgoth]

Hello! (Omg I accidentally sent this ask to pokemagines instead of you sdkjjfscgfd) If it's alright, would it be okay for me to request a pba matchup as well? I just think they are so cute hehe!

akjhsdkfsjhfdk Big Mood honestly,,, and you absolutely can!! glad to see you back

partner: keeping this as claude bc i love you guys,,, 

best friend: it has to be mercedes,,, i am weeping as i write this you have no idea… 

you’re both? angels?? oh my goodness you two would have the cutest friendship in the world??? 

mercedes is naturally a very affirming person, and there’s really not much time to feel insecure while in her company. she’s the sort of person who’d constantly be reminding you of all your good qualities, and wouldn’t be shy about letting you know how much you mean to her. 

she’s very gentle and kind, and i can see her being an excellent shoulder to lean on when you’re not feeling so good. she’s very perceptive and she has a talent for reading people, so you can bet she’d know just what to say and when to say it. 

i think she’d also really enjoy talking about your interests! she seems quietly curious to me, and her interest in what people have to say is very genuine. you could talk for hours with her, and she’d be smiling and nodding, asking the occasional question or two. 

honestly your number one fan!! always checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, asking you how you’re going. she’s much more of a calming influence than claude, and i think the two of them would balance out quite nicely for you akjdfhdkfjh

you’re the sort of friends who are always helping each other out, so  please teach this poor girl to cook, i’m b e g g i n g you,,, you guys would be so wholesome pls love her she’s So Good

admirer:  dimitri! okay i really wanted to choose ashe for this (bc he’s a Good Boy and he’d adore you) but he was one of your alternate matchups, and we enjoy mixing things up in this house

dimitri strikes me as someone who just. doesn’t know what to do with himself around his crush

the two of you had something of a friendship beforehand (or a friendly acquaintanceship), but you were never really close since you’re both more reserved. but oh boy, did dimitri catch Those Feelings,,, and he caught them hard

he just thinks you’re very sweet and charming, and i feel like he’d even see you as a little bit of a kindred spirit; he knows, deep down, that you could understand him

he constantly finds himself wanting to talk to you, but not knowing how to 

it’s not for a lack of trying, either; there have been many an awkward conversation that he’s initiated, where neither of you quite know what to say to each other; it’s obvious that you’d get along, it’s just that you’re both shy

of course, once he noticed you and claude were together he decided that he wouldn’t try to pursue you, but he just can’t help it if his eyes wander towards you every so often