#or if Lysithea needs to whine about not getting her sweets

[themoomoorn]

Don't forget how ppl adore harping on Faerghus being sooo "sexist," like...more than her being the heiress apparent of a County, she has a Major Crest of Charon. She shouldn't be playing knight at the baby-eating church, she should clearly be back home being forced to pop out Crest Babies(tm) like the Fandom alleges Faerghus of doing/Ingrid is likely doomed to!

For that matter, Major Crest of Fraldy Felix should be back home playing the very same role Sylvain mangsts about, but nope! According to Roddy Dearest, Felix's most important duties aren't just being the next Duke, but being someone strong enough to protect the king. Clearly he didn't get Sylvain's memo about how he should be little more than a glorified sperm bank /s

It's funny in hindsight to realise Cat was completely overlooked because she BaD bcs she lufs the Evil Lizard Lady and berns a city when ordered too bcs she religious extremist or whatnot -

When you look at her supports in Houses she's a complex character who, when faced between two difficult choices, picked one and wants to make sure it was the right choice so she follows the evil lizard lady to the depths of Tru Piss and brings more of this so beloved "realism" to the table - which leads the token dumb idiot obsessed with "justice" to think about what and who he is using his fists for* (something he ignores on in Nopes and Tru Piss) - despite her presentation of being, well, a token brash idiot too.

But comes Nopes, and while the game leans even more on the "brash idiot" angle, we get this :

When I was a kid, I never imagined I'd be wielding some holy relic as a Knight of Seiros. I thought my destiny was to follow in my father's footsteps and become the next Count Charon.

Faerghus is very sexist and the land of toxic masculinity, Cat expected to become the next Count Charon, aka, the leader of one of the Kingdom's most important Houses.

Meanwhile, the very same game tells us that the Southern Church Rebellion started because a Lady Varley wanted to become Minister rather than a potted plant for her crestless husband. Huh.

*Funny how the entire schtick "but X kills children!" is adressed in the Capsar/Catherine support - and it all comes down to circumstances, Cat praises Caspar for having ideals, but when it comes to a situation where Caspar will have to chose between a life or a death ? Caspar's reply is to basically continue fighting for what he thinks is "just" or what feels "right" to him -

And given how you can unlock this support in SS (where both units are here by default!) this support gets a conclusion when we have to fight crazed!Rhea : both Cat and Caspar feel like dirt, and yet pull through, Cat even rationalising this crap battle as "ending Rhea's suffering".

[lapinbunwrites]

Title: Lysithea's One Nervous Day

Rating: Gen

Warnings: None

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Relationships: Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia, Claude von Riegan & Lysithea von Ordelia

Characters: Cyril, Lysithea von Ordelia, Claude von Riegan

Word Count: 1,756

Ao3 Link

Lysithea passed back and forth in the living room of her college dorm room, biting down on her thumbnail. She wasn't one to be nervous, but for some reason she was today. If it weren't for Claude's insistence on taking her out to go run errands with him, she would be stuck in her room all day studying. The worst part about it, she knew he was up to something. She didn't know what, not yet anyways. She let out a nervous breath, finally walking over to her door. Once she opened the door, she scowled.

"Yikes," Claude gasped. "What's got you in a bad mood?"

"You do," Lysithea growled. "Whatever you are planning, I will find out."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," he chuckled. "But the plan won't be revealed until late tonight. But I do need do run a couple of errands."

"Fine, but I'm on to you," her brow furrowed deeper.

Lyisthea heard him chuckled as she walked out of her room. She followed him around campus, getting ever more annoyed with him chatting up all his friends. She only hopes that this was apart of his errands, otherwise she might lose her mind. The many ideas that he could have schemed that swirled around in his brain, drove her insane. He probably thought of a million to frustrate her. The one that annoyed her the most was that he didn't actually have a scheme and that this was just a ploy to get her outside to feel the fresh air and see the nice blue sky that was filled with the pillow white clouds.

She sharply sucked in air and exhaled as they moved from place to place. Claude decided to talk to even more friends, grab some food, check up on his study group, and a couple of other things. What was he planning? She noticed that he was boosting about the food at one of the local restaurants a lot, like he wanted her to take someone there. He was boosting about how they had some good sweets and nicely cooked meats. The more they walked around campus, the more people they talked to, the more their laughs and teases, the more she realized that he was trying to set her up with someone.

"Cllllaauuudde," Lysithea gruffly muttered out.

"Yes?" He asked with a giant smirk on his face.

"You aren't trying to get me to go out on a date with someone are you?" She asked, a scowl appearing on her face.

"Ohoho," Claude laughed. "How did you know?"

"I can tell when people are teasing me about a pointless, meaningless, stupid crush of someone I don't have feelings for," she growled, pulling at his face.

"O-Ooh!~ Youph have a crubsh?" He said as Lysithea pinched his face even harder. "I didn't know that!"

"Liar!" She yelled, releasing his face from her grip. "Where is he?"

"Over there," he said, pointing towards a bench with a tree providing a shadow.

"CLAUDE!" She yelled very loudly as she lightly hit his arms. She felt her face become bright crimson red as she turned around to face Claude. "WHY HIM!"

"Ohohohoho!~ So you do have a crush on him," he teased, fending her off.

"Oh my gosh," she quickly whispered as she glanced over her shoulder. "Why is he coming over here?"

"Probably a certain little birdie told him you like him," he chuckled.

"Claude, why would you do this to me," she whined, feeling her shoulders beginning to tense up. "I've never done anything to you."

"I know, but you need to allow yourself to relax and allow yourself to love. Which reminds me I better get going so you can have your little date! Bye!~" Claude said, rushing his words and rushing his way out of site.

"Hello, Lysithea," Cyril greeted with a giant smile.

"Ah, Cyril," Lysithea said, pretending to be shocked. "What brings you around here?"

"Did Claude not tell you?" He asked, titling his head.

"Yes," she sighed out, telling the truth. "Out of his hair brained schemes, I wish he didn't involve me."

"Oh? A shame," he said, his voice becoming more somber.

"Ah! It's not like I to be in your company!" She blurted out, trying to sort her thoughts as her face became a deeper red. She could tell he was starting to feel a little unwanted over her words. "Cyril wait!"

"What? You don't want me here so I will just leave," he sighed, still walking away.

"That's not what I meant," she said, rushing after him. She grabbed onto his arm, being able to stop him. "What I meant was, if anyone was going to ask you on a date, it was going to be me. And not Claude."

"Are you sure about that? You don't seem too excited," Cyril said, turning to face her.

"It's because Claude loves to tease me and make a fool out of me," Lysithea reassured him. "I do rather enjoy your company, but I don't want anyone else forcing me to go seek it when I can do it myself. Least of all, Claude."

Cyril let out a sigh of relief. "That's very nice to hear. Was there somewhere you wanted to go?"

"There is this restaurant that Claude mentioned," Lysithea smiled, holding Cyril's arm tenderly.

"Let me guess, he said they had some very divine sweets there," he teased, placing his free hand on hers.

"He did," she said, leading him to the building.

"Of course it would be here," he teased her, ruffling her hair.

"What do you mean, 'of course it would be here?'" She pouted.

"Claude took me here once and also has teased me about my crush towards you," he said bluntly, not realizing what he had said.

Lysithea's face burned hot at the sounds of his words; she never knew that their feelings were the same.

"He thought it would be nice to take you here because of your rampant sweet tooth..." he softly said, staring down at her beet red face. "Lysithea?"

"Ho-How can yo-you say such things so casually?" She asked, avoiding eye contact with him.

"I don't know," he nervously chuckled. "Why don't we go in then?"

"Ye-Yes, we should," she agreed, clumsily walked in.

After they sat down, and ordered their food, they sat in awkward silence. Lysithea couldn't believe that Claude did this to her, now everything just felt a little off. Whatever she wanted to say, she couldn't muster out. She could only make little tiny noises that Cyril couldn't hear or decipher. It didn't help the tension in her shoulders.

"Uh, how was your," they both said in unison, but they both quickly stopped talking.

"Oh, you go first," Lysithea insisted.

"It's alright. I don't mind you going first," Cyril smiled, placing his hand on hers. "I like hearing the sound of your voice."

Lysithea nervously laughed. Why was she acting like this? This never happens to her, she never acts like this. "No, please go first."

"I just wanted to ask you how your studies were going?" He smiled, tenderly squeezing her hand.

"Oh, it's going fine!" She chirped, placing her hands on her cheek. "I'm on course to get into more difficult classes that will help me with one of my degrees."

"That's wonderful!" He congratulated her. "What are you getting your degree in?"

"One of them is for pharmaceutical med," she replied, squeaking when her strawberry and banana french toast and crepe.

Cyril laughed a little when he saw her eyes light up, they were so beautiful to him. "Oh, that looks really good."

"You can't have any. It's all mine," Lyisthea said, swirling the fork around to tease him as he received his pancakes.

"Then, I'm not sharing my pancakes," he smirked.

She leaned her fork in closer to his mouth, feeding him the first bite of her french toast.

"Mm!~ This is good," he smiled, breaking off a part of his pancake.

She quickly took a bite of Cyril's food before he could tease her only to hear him laugh. "This is delicious!~"

"Good," he nodded, taking a bite himself. "So what did you want to ask?"

"I was just wanting to see how your job is going and if you liked it," she responded, shoveling her food into her mouth.

"It's nice, it's a job and I'm getting paid for it, I suppose," he said, laughing at all the food she was getting over her face.

"Was there something you've wanted to do other than working for the university?" She asked, wiping her face off.

"Not really. I haven't really thought about it much," he sighed out.

"If you ever need help with deciding, I am more than happy to help," she chirped.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," he said, eating the rest of the food.

The rest of their dinner, they continued to talk and laugh. When they were done, Cyril took her around the campus, showing her places she has never seen. The multiple gardens from parts of Fodlan she hasn't been too. Hearing Cyril talk about all the different plants, Lysithea finally feel the tension in her shoulders dissipate. When he talked, she tried to make multiple mental notes of everything he said about them. He took her around, showing her where she could get some of the best sweets on campus. She felt elated and at ease when she was around him; she hadn't felt like this in years. By the time he was done showing her around, she didn't realize she was back at her dorm room.

"Thank you for the nice night, Cyril," Lysithea smiled, getting her keys out.

"Don't worry about it," Cyril nodded, leaning down close to her.

"What are you doing?" She asked, feeling his heat close to her face.

"Nothing," he lied, kissing her cheek to get some leftover crumbs off.

"C-Cyril," she said softly, feeling his lips press against her.

"You had crumbs on your cheek," he said, stepping back.

"I-I could have gotten that off," she stuttered, tripping into her door.

"I know," he smiled, turning around and waving goodbye. "Have a nice rest of your night."

Lysithea nodded, clumsily walking back into her dorm room. She walked into her room, trying to get back into her studies. It was hard for Lysithea to concentrate because of Cyril's kiss. Maybe Claude was right, she probably should allow herself to relax a little more and to allow herself to love someone. To love Cyril.

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

Huzzah! Here is a revenge fic for @spaghetti-trash! They gave me revenge art for a fic that I attacked them with. It's always nice to see another CySithea shipper and getting to write these two is always so nice and so cute. I swear these two give me cavities T-T

[writtingfiction]

Claude and a fake dating au please

Please enjoy this mondern version of them cast with the fake dating au! School starts in three days, lets see how many stories I can write before then, enjoy!!

pairing: Byleth x Claude

words: 1.7 k

Now when Claude had received the invitation to the corporate annual party he wasn’t expecting much, just the usual black and white suit and talk about how things are going well within the company. Maybe brag a little about how they got the upper hand in sales for the first quarter of the year. Nonetheless, as cunning as he was, he wasn’t expecting to show up at the party with his former boss from back when he was an intern with the Seiros Inc. Not only did he show up with his former boss, but he’s also said to everyone, within his company and rivalling companies that the two of them are together.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when the two enter the room all eyes on them. Byleth has half a mind to pat his arm gently in a way to comfort him. Claude wants to crawl into his own skin the way Edelgard and Dimitri look at him. Never mind how Seteth absolute seethes as he sends daggers towards him ready to rip him apart the second, he’s left alone. He thinks the only person to not be surprised by this was his own assistant. Although, he didn’t have the heart to tell him that this wasn’t exactly real.

When the pair had separated his close friends swarmed him. There were a lot of comments and many, many questions. He needed a drink. Hilda was incessantly poking his side, demanding for answers as Lorenz was lecturing him about something, he’s not paying attention.

“If you keep asking me all at the same time, I can’t answer you.” Claude said annoyed. Just barely making it to the table to grab a drink. The small crowd goes silent before they all speak up again. He shoots them a look before he hears one voice clearly through all the voices.

“Ok, ok, ok, I just need to know how.” It was Lysithea. Claude looks her in eye and then towards the rest of his friends. He’s now very glad that the two of them talked about this beforehand and came up with a story. Claude clears his throat.

“Well,” He starts off, trying to give off a vibe of mysteriousness and he is doing it well. “It started after Byleth got back from her overseas trip— “

“That that was 8 months ago!!” Hilda let out a whispered cry. Claude sends her a glare.

“Yes—As I was saying, after the overseas trip she had. We got back into touch as she was looking for a new job. I told her she could apply at Leicester Alliance and things went on from there.” Claude said, sipping his sweet drink. Rapheal lands a rough hand on his shoulder congratulating him.

“I have half a mind to scold you Claude, getting together with a former colleague like that? Do you even know what this could do to the company?” Lorenz started off with his lecture and Claude tried his hardest not to eye roll.

“Hence why we kept hidden for so long. We also hid it well mind you.” Claude said. Pointing a finger to no one in particular. Lysithea shakes her head.

“You haven’t answered my question.” Lysithea was a very smart girl for her age. Even though he constantly teases her for it, he couldn’t help but curse at how she knew he avoided the question. He had hoped his friends would carry the conversation away when they knew the least amount.

“What was your question, again?”

“How. How did you manage to convince Byleth to get with you?” Claude hums. His way of buffering so he can recall what him and Byleth discussed.

“I charmed her. Impeccable planning if I might say so myself.” Claude says. Grin as wide as possible to show off how cocky he was. He could see the very visible eye roll from Hilda.

“Totally Claude, now will you stop and just tell us?” Hilda whines out.

“Tell you what?” It’s a new voice. Everyone turns to see Byleth standing at the edge of their little circle. She’s dressed in smooth black dress that hugs her figure comfortably. There’s some gold jewelry on her wrists and neck. A matching pendent with Claude with his own necklace. Byleth’s outfit compliments Claude’s nicely, a couple picked straight from a magazine.

“Byleth! They were asking about how I managed to get you under my arm.” Claude said. Approaching her, smoothly wrapping an arm around her waist.

“If I remember correctly, it was you who was caught like a deer in headlights when I had asked you out for dinner.” Byleth said. Voice flat with a hint of teasing to it. The cat-like smirks that appeared on half of his friends faces had almost made him loose his composure. It didn’t help either that what Byleth said was true. When things first started out, Byleth suggested a dinner to chat about things and it honestly caught him off guard.

“Well, now they don’t need to know that.” Claude let out a nervous chuckle. He thought he had everything under control but this woman had him rethinking all his plans in under a second. She was just as or more cunning than him. A rare smile appeared on her face.

“No need to hide what happened. Have you told them about how you almost fell down the stairs earlier?” Byleth teased as Claude went red, choking on his words.

Claude trying to save himself and barely in doing so. Byleth was ready to crumble the reputation he had as cool lover and was trying too. Not with fake information either, he didn’t know if it was worse. However, while trying to keep it together he was catching things. People were relaxing around him for once. His close friends and coworkers were smiling and sharing stories from their lives. His rivals weren’t so tense around him, Seteth stopped glaring at him throughout the night. The old man was more focused on his sister than him tonight.

Byleth was making everyone around him more comfortable by telling them a side that only she would see. Claude shook his head with a small smile on his lips. Perhaps she was more cunning than he was.

The rest of the evening goes on without a hitch and he’s very happy with himself. Byleth noticed the change in demeanor. She wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. However, she’s stopped in her tracks by two familiar faces. Edelgard and Dimitri approach her before they leave for the night.

“Byleth, if I may,” Dimitri speaks up, long blonde hair tied back nicely. There’s a small braid on the side of his hair leading to the bun. “Would it still be too late to offer you a position within the Faerghus Knights?” There’s an eye roll from Edelgard.

“What he means to say, even though you’re with Claude would you be open to a new and better position? Preferably with the Adrestian Corp.” Edelgard said. Byleth can only smile, a small part of her is glad they haven’t given up the friendly rivalry she only hopes it doesn’t end in an ugly way.

“I’m sorry, my loyalty goes to Claude. Not just because he’s my boyfriend.” Byleth felt something twist at her heart. It felt strange to call him that openly. She had spent the last month or two coming to terms with the deal that the two of them made. The two leaders of their respective company's sigh.

“We’ll get you one day, Professor.” Dimitri said a large smile on his face. Byleth only shook her head at the old nickname. Yes, she was their boss and taught them how to do their jobs to the best of their abilities but she didn’t deserve that title. She bids them fair well and goes to rejoin Claude. She knew the man was getting weary with how the others questioned him relentlessly about company issues now that pleasantries were over.

She grabs both of their coats before she reenters the room. A clear sign that they were leaving for the night and no one would stop them for a chat. It was one thing she was grateful for; they knew when people wanted to leave and would let them. It takes Byleth a moment to find him even with everyone who has left. When she does spot him, he’s surround by those greedy slimy men who would do anything to get ahead. Unfortunately, Claude is the only huge target left. Edelgard and Dimitri left, Seteth and Rhea left two hours into the party. First to arrive and first to leave, mused Byleth.

Byleth appears at Claude’s side in a matter of moments. One hand resting on his back, a comforting gesture. There’s a stretched smile on Claude’s face and cruel grins on the faces surrounding him. Byleth is quick in saying hi as she places Claude’s coat in his arms, cementing the fact that they were leaving and no one would be stopping them. Only one or two men tried to keep Claude longer but Byleth was quick to interject. Coats on and pulling him away from the crowd by the hand. When the doors of the building were closed behind them, they let out a breath.

There’s a shared look between the two of them, before they let out a small laugh. Byleth is the first to move from their spot at the door. Hand reaching in to her coat pocket and taking the keys out, waving them in the air.

“Ready to head home?” Byleth said.

“Couldn’t speak sweeter words for my ears to hear.” Claude said.

The drive home was nice, the music was just loud enough to drown out overwhelming thoughts. However, as Claude checks his phone looking at new emails a smirk appears on his lips.

“Good news, we have more shareholders because of our appearance tonight. I have a feeling there’ll be some more cameras following us around more than normal over the next couple weeks.” Claude said. “You ready for this?”

“I’m ready. The company will come out on top for the end of the year, just get ready for the speed bumps along your path.” Byleth replied. Claude let out a chuckle.

“We’ll defeat anything coming our way. I won’t let them win.” Claude said, knowing the year ahead of them will be difficult but he had Byleth by his side. What could go wrong?

[imaginefodlan]

Lemony Claude Imagine

Time to elaborate on the first post I shared on this blog, because I'm sorry but those ideas were too good for me to just leave in the dust

So, the premise: Claude is entertaining dignitaries in the Riegan territory, sitting in his seat at the head of the table while the other dignitaries (including Lorenz, Hilda, and the other nobles from the Golden Deer who are now in control of their family's territories or have been sent as proxies for their current leader) sit along the table's length

The Golden Deer guests notice that Byleth is conveniently missing from the table partway through dinner, having quietly and discreetly excused herself from the room before dinner even started.

I like to imagine that Byleth has warped herself under the table without anyone noticing, except maybe the resident magic prodigy of House Ordelia. But Lysithea isn't about to give this away, especially knowing that whatever 'this' is is probably vengeance of some kind for something Claude did to Byleth earlier on.

Now, here comes the real fun.

Byleth has silently settled herself between Claude's legs, which are spread comfortably wide enough that she could kneel there easily, catching Claude off-guard as she rests a careful hand on his inner thigh, trying not to scare him so badly that his response is noticeable. That would ruin the game and cause quite a bit of trouble, after all.

Claude startles a bit, glancing down in surprise to see Byleth there, slyly smiling that barely visible smile of hers as her hand crawls its way up his thigh, toward an area Claude would usually be certain Byleth wouldn't dare initiate contact with in public. But now, he’s not so sure.

He raises his eyes up to meet the gaze of his guests, chuckling softly and gesticulating as he addresses something one of the guests' questions about the estate's history, trying to hide his surprise at Byleth's actions, and her actual actions, from the guests.

Lysithea just smirks with a knowing look on her face when Claude glances her way to see if she sensed anything from Byleth's antics. By the way her eyes glint at him with amusement, he’s sure she's in for a night of entertainment, almost as much as Byleth and Claude are.

Back to Byleth, though. Byleth gives Claude a coy, innocent smile as she begins to palm at his cock through his trousers, barely restraining an amused purr as he tensed, doing his best to stay relaxed and alert to the words of the dignitaries, especially the Golden Deer, who would certainly never let him live it down if they knew what was going on just out of sight.

Dear Goddess, if Lorenz found out, Claude would be a goner. Mocking for DAYS about how improper it is to get handies and blowjobs during dinner meetings with the nobles.

It takes a lot of effort for Claude to stay quiet, and even more effort to take part in conversations without accidentally letting slip a moan or whine as Byleth releases Claude's raging hard-on from his trousers and begins to stroke, kiss, lick, and finally, suck it.

The warmth of Byleth's hands and mouth drive Claude crazy, heat rising to his cheeks as he attempts to keep proper rapport with the nobles, slowly beginning to slip up when he lets slip a rather audible groan of frustration when Byleth pulls off his cock as he's about to come.

Lorenz is the first to call him on it, making Lysithea giggle quietly to herself. "Claude, whatever is the matter? Publicly groaning is not proper behavior for any nobleman, even one such as yourself, who often fails to follow the traditional standards."

Claude takes a deep breath, resting his cheek in one hand and preparing himself to reply, the other hand sharply gripped in Byleth's hair as her mouth captures the head of his cock once more. He's almost certain he can hear the tell-tale sloshing sounds that signal that she's got her free hand at her pussy, fingers slipping in and out of herself as she torments them both, although he could just have been imagining it. Claude almost couldn't handle the thought as he growled out a response to Lorenz.

"Well, my dear Lorenz, you see, I've been feeling rather under the weather lately, as has my wife, hence her... unavailability, at the moment. Perhaps it would be best to call it an early night and return to our discussions in the morning. The servants can show you to your rooms, and we can continue this first thing tomorrow, if that is amenable?"

Lysithea smirks at him knowingly. She can't say exactly what Byleth is doing under that table, and she'd rather not venture a guess, but whatever it is, it's certainly getting under their calm, collected leader's skin, and it certainly was amusing to her.

"Claude, would it not be more prudent to simply finish our discussion now, over dinner, before retiring for the night? It cannot take so much more time that we can't finish it soon, and many of us must depart first thing in the morning for our own territories, after all." Lysithea implores, never wiping that damned smirk from her lips as the other nobles muttered words of agreement.

Claude sighs heavily, glancing down at Byleth with a sharp glare, which he then affixes on Lysithea, who seemed to know about, and wanted to prolong, his suffering at his lover's hands (and mouth).

"As you wish, then. Let us hurry, though. I must also attend to my dear wife tonight, after all." His unusual formality could only be attributed to his growing frustration at his inability to bow out of the discussion for the night. There was only one thing he knew for sure: Byleth was so in for it once this meeting was over.

The discussions go on relatively smoothly and without fail, with Byleth keeping her ministrations to a minimum for a short while longer before warping out of the room and down the hall before the meeting's end, retiring to the bedroom she shared with Claude. He would be about soon, and she would be ready for whatever he wished to do upon his arrival.

When Claude finally sees the dignitaries off to their rooms for the night, he returns to his own bedroom for yet another surprise from his favorite former Teacher: Byleth kneeling on the ground in the middle of the room, waiting for him with a smile and a sweetly scented candle lit on the table beside them.

As frustrated as Claude is about Byleth’s teasing, he's even more turned on, and he intends to take full advantage of Byleth's willingness to play after the fact.

He takes the candle from its silver holder, tipping it so that the hot drips down onto his waiting wife's body, the warmth searing into Byleth's chest, stomach, and thighs as Claude allowed the wax to flow.

Byleth's hisses and the moans that follow them are music to Claude's ears, but all good things must have an end, and so he sets the candle in its holder and kneels beside Byleth, slipping a hand between her spread legs.

"You're already ready for me, are you, Teach?" He couldn't resist grinning at the feeling of slickness between her legs. "Did you get this wet just from sucking my cock under the dinner table, or were you playing with yourself, too, hm?"

Byleth bites back a moan as Claude's fingers tease at her entrance. "A little bit of both, but mostly just sucking your cock did this. I can't help it that you taste so good, Claude."

Now it’s Claude's turn to smirk. "Is that so, now? Then, would you like to continue what you started, Teach?"

A shiver runs down Byleth's spine. Claude knows that calling her Teach in that teasing tone of his is a surefire way to have her dripping all over again. "Is that what you want, Claude? My mouth on your cock?" She smiles up at him, tilting her head to the side. "Or would you like something... more?"

Claude growls, picking Byleth up from the ground and laying her down on the bed. "So this is about what I want, now? As you wish, darling." He climbs upon the bed, straddling Byleth's legs as he pulls out the bedside drawer to set out a vial of oil and positioning himself easily so that he could bend over and lap at the sweet, wet warmth between her legs.

Goddess, his cock’s straining hard in his pants. Part of him had wanted to take Byleth there and then, in front of all of the nobles, their allies and their friends. But he had to admit, having her splayed out on the bed for him, trapped between his legs and at his mercy, writhing beneath him as he tasted her juices and teased her clit and tongued at her most intimate parts, was extremely enticing as well.

Finally, Claude pauses in his ministrations, shifting upward to steal a harsh, heated kiss from his wife, allowing his cock to brush against her core, leaving them both hissing with desire. Nobody else could stoke such fiery, wanton need within him, nor could anyone else do the same for her.

As Claude presses into her, filling her to her core, he presses rapid, needy kissed and bites along her jawline, neck, and chest, all the while muttering words of affection and lust against her skin. She was his, after all, and he was hers.

'What's a relationship without some fun, surprises, and a little sexual frustration-enhanced passion, after all?' Claude thinks to himself amusedly, groaning against the crook of Byleth's neck as she grinds her hips into his, sending a jolt of pleasure through them both.

Their fucking and love-making goes on through the night, neither wanting to be outclassed. It went on until they were both spent and exhausted, sometime shortly before dawn.

[allie-writes]

nth time’s the charm

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None apply Category: F/M Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Annette Fantine Dominic Additional relevant tags: Modern AU, Meet-Cute Word count: 6460 Language: English Read on: AO3 | Fanfiction.net

 She’s alone, dancing by herself in the middle of a public park just before noon, and she smells like a whole bottle of cheap perfume.

 Felix can’t help but stare.

i.

 As with unfortunately many things in Felix’s life, it all starts with Dimitri.

 Or, rather, Dimitri’s infuriating behaviours—above all, his lack of a spine that could put a squid to shame. Their team had decided how to go about handling a new client weeks ago, had prepared everything accordingly, had put hours upon hours into getting in contact with business partners to ensure they could pull it all off without a hitch, and then someone had come up to Dimitri yesterday, asked really nicely if he could just screw over their whole schedule, which had been, again, established weeks ago, because they really needed the help. And the idiot, the absolute moron, had, all on his own, decided that his team would of course help.

 So Felix had gotten up in the middle of the meeting, gave Dimitri a few choice words, and clocked out for lunch an hour early.

 Now, ten minutes later, with no appetite to speak of and twenty minutes left to his break, he finds himself sitting on a park bench, fidgety with anger and excess energy. When he gets back, he’ll probably be greeted with one of Dimitri’s lengthy apologies—not that he shouldn’t apologise, because he is definitely at fault here, but he’s also in love with the idea that he is to blame for everything, ever, so a simple ‘sorry’ usually turns into an hour-long self-flagellation session. Felix is not looking forward to that.

 He gets up and stretches, sweeping his gaze over the mostly empty park. The sky is overcast, turning even the scenery sad and dreary. If he were any more upset, he’d go and kick a tree or ten, but the last remnants of his self-control deny him even that much. So he walks—briskly and aimlessly and with too much intent for someone who has no idea where he’s going.

 He’s still stalking around the premises when a scent hits him. It’s flowery and vaguely familiar, similar to the perfume he’d gotten Lysithea for their Secret Santa last year, but perhaps not exactly that. It’s so surprising, still, that Felix stops in his tracks and looks around for its origin.

 And its origin is... curious, to say the least.

 It seems to be coming from a petite woman—maybe still a girl, even—who appears to be fully immersed in a book she is silently mouthing the words to, absentmindedly moving her feet in something close to a waltz. Her orange dress, a crass contrast to the grey-in-grey weather, sways with her steps and she twirls once before turning over the page.

 She’s alone, dancing by herself in the middle of a public park just before noon, and she smells like a whole bottle of cheap perfume.

 Felix can’t help but stare.

 And then, unfortunately, the woman stares back. Her eyes go wide for just one second before she stumbles, letting out a “Wah!” before her book goes flying. It lands unceremoniously on the dirt path, but at least the woman catches herself before she falls, too.

 “Sorry,” Felix says, because he doesn’t exactly know what else to say, and steps forward to get the book for her. “I... uh... didn’t mean to...”

 “You can’t just,” she huffs, “stand there and gawk at me.” She seems less offended than embarrassed, though, judging by how red her face is. “It’s rude! And—oh, I didn’t look too goofy, did I? I sometimes get lost in thought, and then I forget my surroundings.“

 She fists a hand into her hair—ginger and slightly messy—and groans. “You’re not a bad dancer,” Felix says, and she pouts at him. He holds her book out towards her. Loog and the Maiden of Wind. Huh. “A medieval epic?”

 “Oh, yes,” she says and takes the book back. A little smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and Felix has to fight back the reflex to smile in return. She lovingly smoothes her hand over the cover. “It’s a friend’s favourite. He let me borrow it and—oh no...”

 Her hand shoots to one of the corners. “It’s dented,” she says, fingers tracing the damage. “Oh, he’s gonna be so mad.” She worries her lip, then looks back up at Felix. “He’s one of those people who will tell you it’s fine and that they’re not mad, but really, you know that you messed up, and you feel horrible for it. And then you try to make it up to them, and they appreciate it, but you also know that it’s not enough.”

 Finally, she deflates with a sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

 “It’s fine,” Felix says, looking at his feet. “I’m sorry for making you drop the book in the first place.”

 The woman huffs. “Even worse, you watched me dance a jig like an idiot!” she says, but when Felix glances back up, she’s smiling. He feels his face heat up in response. “Though you said my dancing was fine, so maybe I didn’t look that bad.”

 “It wasn’t exactly up to ballroom standard.”

 She grins. “Oh, you’re a straight-up villain!” she shouts, cheerful and just a bit too loud. Then, she gasps. “Wait, do you know what time it is?”

 Felix fishes his phone from his pocket, wilfully ignoring the three missed calls from Sylvain, and reads back, “It’s just past 12.”

 “Crackers!” the woman says—crackers!—and pulls her book against her chest. “Uh, it was nice talking to you and all, but I really gotta—“

 And then she’s rushing past Felix, almost tripping over her own feet in her mad dash, and leaves him standing right there.

 He can do little but stare after her, his phone still in his hand, and he wonders what exactly just happened. His ringtone rips him out of his reverie, though, and Sylvain’s name lights up on screen. With a long suffering sigh, Felix picks up. “Yes?”

 “So you do know how to pick up!” Sylvain chirps from the other side of the line. Some shuffling follows, like he’s adjusting his position, and, more worryingly, Felix can make out sobs in the background. “So, we kind of have a situation on our hands here. I think Dimitri won’t rest until he can talk this out with you, so...”

 Felix sighs. “Alright,” he says, giving the book-sized imprint on the ground one last look.

  ii.

 “Don’t you want to see how our dear old friend Ingrid is doing?” Sylvain asks, one arm slung around Felix’s shoulders in a friendly gesture that doubles as an inescapable chokehold. “You can just sit down and mope around in a corner, if that’s what you want.”

 Felix huffs. “It’s not like I don’t want to see her,” he says, subtly trying to pry Sylvain’s arm off. “I just have better things to do with my Saturday than annoy Ingrid.” Which is an argument that probably doesn’t resonate with Sylvain, considering how it’s been one of his favourite hobbies since childhood, but Felix tries anyways.

 “Well, too bad,” Sylvain says and throws open the glass door leading to the bookstore Ingrid co-owns, dragging Felix inside with him. At least he didn’t bully Dimitri into coming along this time.

 Ingrid is behind the checkout counter and looks up when she hears the chimes above the door jingle. “Oh, it’s just you two,” she says flatly, and Sylvain finally, finally lets go of Felix to whine at Ingrid for being cruel and not suited for customer service and so rude to her oldest friends, and hey, hey, Felix, she really is, isn’t she?

 Felix tunes it out after the first three sentences and meanders off, but he feels Ingrid’s eyes burn holes into the back of his head until he ducks between two rows of bookshelves. The classics section is not exactly interesting to him, but it’s better than being stuck listening to whatever Sylvain is bothering Ingrid with.

 At least their conversation has gotten quieter now.

 Felix scans the titles on the spines with no particular interest, yet his eyes catch on one in particular—Loog and the Maiden of Wind. A bright orange dress comes to mind, and he can’t stop himself from reaching out and taking the book off the shelf.

 He cracks it open, flipping through pages upon pages of needlessly wordy plot fit into neat metres. Ingrid loves these things for some reason, but she also loves feminist literature and magazines about brushing horses. And she isn’t half as bad about them as her business partner, anyways.

 Felix’s half-hearted reading is interrupted when someone starts humming, maybe as close as the other side of the shelf. It’s sweet and melodic, just loud enough to be audible from a few steps away, but it doesn’t disrupt the quiet of the bookstore.

 He closes and shelves the book again. The humming continues, steadily increasing in volume. Felix looks around before he decides to poke his head around the corner to peer into the next aisle.

 What greets him on the other side of the shelf is a vaguely familiar mop of red hair from a few days prior. I sometimes get lost in thought, and then I forget my surroundings, echoes a voice in the back of Felix’s mind that just so happens to be the humming voice’s perfect match.

 Not wanting to repeat his previous offense of wordlessly staring at her, Felix clears his throat. Immediately, the woman before him goes silent, turning her head to look at him with an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. “Sorry, was I being too loud?” she asks. “Wait a second. I recognise you from somewhere.”

 “In the park, the other day,” Felix supplies, and the woman lights up immediately.

 “Oh, right!” she exclaims, smiling with a flush still high on her cheeks. “You saw my... dancing...” Her face falls further and further with every word before she buries it in her hands and groans. “Ugh, why is this the second time you have to come across me doing something embarrassing! My humming was probably way off-tune, too, wasn’t it?”

 Felix feels like a deer in the headlights, way out of his depth. “I don’t think so?” he offers weakly, and the woman sighs. Her hands fall away from her face and she shakes her head with a wry smile.

 “I swear, I’m not usually this bad,” she says, looking at the shelf in front of her to avoid looking at Felix. “But I’m not making a strong case for myself here, am I?”

 “I honestly don’t care,” Felix replies. The woman freezes up, and maybe that came out a bit harsher than intended. “Your dancing was fine. And your voice is... kind of nice. Not that I have much to go off, but it sounded good.”

 She goes as red as her hair. Felix can relate, because he, too, is getting flustered, caught up in all this awkwardness. Normally, he would have run away from this train wreck of a conversation already, but somehow, he finds himself unable to leave. Instead, he watches as this tiny woman purses her lips, twirls her hair, and ultimately breaks out into a wide grin. “Are you sure you’re not just teasing me?” she asks, but it lacks any seriousness.

 “Maybe I am,” Felix replies, and she laughs. It’s sweet—as if the sound was what her voice was made for, and as if Felix wasn’t terribly unfunny at all.

 “My name’s Annette, by the way,” she says, only now turning to fully face Felix. “Might as well introduce myself if we’re just gonna keep running into each other.” She doesn’t offer her hand for a shake, but her smile is a bashful sort of inviting.

 Felix clears his throat again. “Felix,” he says, and Annette’s smile brightens so much, he has to look away from it.

 “That’s a nice name!” she says, maybe only conversationally, and turns back towards the shelf. Felix, for his part, is glad that she does, because his cheeks feel very warm. Unperturbed, Annette prattles on, “You see, I was looking for a book a co-worker of mine wanted to read, and I told them they’d probably have it here but—oh no.”

 “What is it?” Felix barely manages to ask before Annette is scrambling out of the aisle, shaking her head.

 “I forgot—I didn’t think—work!” she yells as she dashes past the checkout counter, almost crashing into Sylvain, and then out of the door. Ingrid, still behind the register, stares after her in surprise before she redirects her attention towards Felix.

 “What did you say to her?” she asks, stern.

 Felix frowns, because Ingrid has no right to immediately assume the worst of him, and crosses his arms. “Nothing,” he says. Ingrid narrows her eyes as if considering him and Felix scoffs. “Really.”

 iii.

 “Why am I here?”

 Dimitri smiles at Felix from the seat to his right. “Because we were personally invited, and it would have been rude to show up one person short, Felix,” he replies evenly, hands folded neatly in his lap. “Besides, I was under the impression you enjoyed musical performances.”

 Felix decidedly looks anywhere but at Dimitri. “I do,” he concedes, watching some stage hands do some last check-ups on the equipment. It’s terribly dark in this glorified bar that only sees an audience because Sylvain’s friend Dorothea cons people into coming. “Just not like this.”

 “Next time I go see an opera, I’ll make sure to bring you along, then,” Dimitri say cheerfully, tone-deaf as ever.

 “Please don’t.”

 The screech of a microphone back coupling interrupts whatever Dimitri wants to say next, and he recoils at the noise instead. One of the stage hands throws a sheepish smile in the direction of the still sparse audience. “Regardless, I think this concert is going to be wonderful,” Dimitri eventually says when the silence between them had just become pleasant.

 Felix sighs and props his head up on one of his hands. “Maybe Dorothea oversold it,” he mutters and Dimitri chuckles in reply, just to be polite. He doesn’t believe it, of course, and neither does Felix, not really, but disagreeing with Dimitri is simply what he does. “She’s annoyingly confident.”

 “What, am I not allowed to be?”

 Felix freezes at the sing-song of a voice before a hand settles on his shoulder from behind. He cranes is neck to look at the icy smile Dorothea throws his way. “I should be honoured you came at all, shouldn’t I?” she says, giving Felix’s shoulder a squeeze that could be both, a greeting or a warning, before letting go. “But don’t worry, it’s going to be good. The band is amazing.”

 “I’m certain they are,” Dimitri says, maybe to remind her he’s still there, too, before adding, “but I have no doubt that your performance will be great, too.”

 Dorothea coughs into her hand to hide her laughter. “Oh, thank you,” she says, pretending to take issue with her perfectly styled hair to avoid looking at Dimitri’s overly earnest expression. Felix huffs and turns to look towards the bar where Sylvain is still chatting up the poor bartender and Ingrid, one drink in each hand, looks dangerously close to dropping them in order to drag Sylvain away by the ear.

 “I’m sure you need to go prepare, don’t you?” Felix asks, turning back to Dorothea. She frowns at being shooed away like this, but probably knows not to expect much more out of him by now.

 “I guess,” she says. “Tell Sylvain the bartender is taken, would you?” She stretches once, then throws him and Dimitri a quick smile and walks off in the direction of what is probably a backstage area or glorified storage room. She greets a few people along the way, and this only serves to support Felix’s theory that she ropes personal acquaintances into coming here to fill the seats.

 After that, Dimitri and Felix sit mostly in silence until Ingrid and Sylvain come back with their drinks at last. It’s getting more crowded, and the band begins tuning their instruments with a few stagehands assisting them. “Why did we have to come so early?” Felix asks Sylvain, now to his left, and he shrugs.

 “Dorothea said we should come around six,” he replies. “Maybe it was her idea of a prank.”

 Felix scoffs. “You probably pissed her off somehow, then,” he says, and Sylvain lets out a squawk of protest before coming up short when it comes to defending himself.

 Eventually, Dorothea and what Felix assumes are background singers climb the stage and take their positions behind some standing microphones. The singer furthest in the back aggressively waves at someone in the audience, and after a second, someone in the third row raises their hand to wave back. Actually, now that he’s looking more closely, that singer seems oddly familiar, and it takes Felix only another moment to realise why.

 Which also happens to be the moment in which their eyes meet over five or so rows of audience.

 “Hello,” Annette mouths on stage (or at least some other greeting, probably), now waving at Felix with both hands at once while looking strangely frantic about it. Felix just nods at her, and she beams before ducking back behind the other singers.

 It makes something giddy and stupid rise up in Felix’s stomach, so he grips his knee with too much force and pretends to be unaffected while chugging half his drink in one go. “Easy there,” Sylvain chides him while sounding awfully close to laughter, and Felix has half a mind to dump the rest of his glass into his lap.

 When the lights go dim, the audience falls silent. Dorothea, centre stage, runs a hand through her hair and puts on her best smile before greeting everyone and introducing the band. With two measures counted ahead by the drummer and otherwise very little preamble, they start into their first song.

 And, well, they are good. Dorothea is admittedly as skilled a singer as she makes herself out to be and maybe for that reason, Sylvain’s lovelorn puppy eyes aren’t as annoying as they could be, but Felix feels restless now. More than the front woman, he wants to hear a certain background singer.

 He wants to know if Annette’s singing voice matches her humming from the other day, and what she would choose to sing if she was left to her own devices. And maybe he’s getting a bit obsessed with this, and that’s a feeling he isn’t too familiar with. It’s frustrating.

 He wants to know things about Annette.

 The first half of the show draws to a close with Dorothea announcing that they will be taking a short break, and before Felix can stop himself, he’s already out of his seat. “Felix? Where are you going?” he hears Ingrid shout after him, but he makes a bee-line for the stage, bumping shoulders here and there as he weaves through the crowd.

 When he gets to the front, he finds Annette already talking to an older man, her smile surprisingly strained. Their conversation doesn’t carry amidst the noise of all the people in the room, but if Felix had to chance a guess, he would say that the man is probably her father or uncle, judging by the greying red of his hair and the fact that he looks out of place enough to have come for Annette specifically.

 Felix feels kind of stupid now, standing a few feet away from them with no idea what to say to Annette and no intention of interrupting her conversation. So he helplessly looks to the seat he vacated and the confused Dimitri and displeased Ingrid he’d left in his wake. “What the hell?” is what Ingrid mouths, probably, and he frowns. She shakes her head and says something to Dimitri who perks up and throws Felix a thumbs-up. Ingrid promptly buries her face in her hands.

 “Felix?”

 He doesn’t jump. He really doesn’t. When he looks down at Annette, with one of her hands gently hovering over Felix’s arm, she looks like she’s holding back laughter. “Uh,” he says to her, intelligently, which only seems to amuse Annette further.

 “I... uh... didn’t expect to see you here. I was so surprised earlier!” she says, smiling. Felix averts his eyes and coughs.

 “A friend is friends with Dorothea, so he got us roped into coming here,” he explains, probably a bit red in the face and staring at his shoes. “I didn’t know you sang.” I don’t really know anything about you, he doesn’t say.

 But Annette doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “Oh, yes!” she says. “It’s only a side-gig for me, but... well. I mean, I don’t have the kind of voice and presence that someone like Dorothea has, but I enjoy it a lot. Being in the background is no less fun, and it’s way less pressure.”

 “I’d still like to hear you sing,” Felix blurts and kind of wants to die right there. He chances a quick look up at Annette, only to see her smile with some mixture of embarrassment and happiness. She’s probably red in the cheeks, somewhere below her stage makeup.

 “Oh, Felix, you just want to laugh at me,” she says, giving his shoulder a friendly shove. She’s still smiling, though. “What do you think of the show this far, by the way?”

 Her segue comes out of left field, but Felix ultimately shrugs. “It’s good,” he replies, and Annette grins several kilowatts bright.

 Dorothea retakes the stage before he can say anything more, and Annette scrambles off once again.

  iii.b.

 “Have you considered,” Ingrid asks, stirring creamer into her coffee, “that maybe, just maybe, you have a crush?”

 Felix scoffs and resents the fact that his coffee isn’t yet cold enough to chug defiantly. “Don’t be stupid. I know next to nothing about her,” he says. Ingrid gives him an unimpressed stare over the rim of her cup and takes a long sip. It’s aggravating and Ingrid knows it.

 “So how about you go and actually ask her to spend time with you?” she offers in her most patronising tone—the one usually reserved for Sylvain. “Annette’s a regular here, and close friends with Ashe to boot. I could forward her your number.” As if to show what ‘here’ encompasses, Ingrid gestures around the mostly dark bookstore with her free hand. She follows it up by taking another demonstrative sip. “So don’t go making up excuses about not being able to get in touch.”

 “No thanks,” Felix replies. “For one, because this isn’t a crush—“ Ingrid coughs a laugh, “and also because having you playing matchmaker is even worse than having Sylvain do it.”

 “Alright, so not a crush,” concedes Ingrid, still sounding too bemused for Felix’s taste. “Are you trying to make a friend, then? You’re not used to not knowing people you’re close to since you were this tiny, do you?” She gestures only a few centimetres above the ground to drive her point home, grinning. “Must be hard.”

 “Shut up,” Felix says and decides to screw it all and drink some of his coffee, heat be damned.

 “I mean, it wouldn’t hurt you to be more sociable, either way.”

 Felix sighs. “I don’t need this to turn into one of your lectures,” he says.

 “Would you rather have this conversation with Sylvain, then? I’m sure he’d be really happy to help you,” Ingrid says flatly, as if that thought alone didn’t trigger Felix’s fight or flight response. “He’d probably think this is his field of expertise, you know.”

 “You’ve made your point, now let it go,” Felix snaps, more harshly than strictly necessary. Ingrid gives him a disapproving frown but leaves him be, instead opting to sulkily finish her

coffee.

 Eventually, she sets her empty cup down on the checkout counter, most likely to leave it for tomorrow. She stretches once before shooting Felix a tired smile. “Come on, I want to lock up for the day.”

 Felix chugs the last bit of his now lukewarm coffee in one go and slams his cup down next to Ingrid’s with more force than necessary. “There,” he says, and Ingrid laughs.

  iv.

 It’s 4AM on a Sunday, and Felix, for some ungodly (six-foot-something, blond and clinically depressed) reason, finds himself all alone in the cheese aisle at the grocery store, trying to decide whether to get gouda or cheddar to appease the beast.

 The entire place is deathly silent, save for the mind-numbing bubblegum pop playing on the radio. With some of the fluorescents overhead flickering at intervals, it all feels like a horror movie in the making. Felix swallows a lump building in his throat and grabs both cheeses, shoving them into his shopping basket with a vengeance.

 Now that he’s already here, he decides to buy something for himself as well, although he has yet to figure out what he wants. He aimlessly walks around the snack aisles for a while, staring at fruit bars and candy as if he could actually stand the stuff. Maybe his tired mind just doesn’t recall that he dislikes sweets, he thinks after he’s maintained a solid minute of eye-contact with a cartoon parrot on a box of hard candy.

 “Ooh, Mercie, I just remembered!” someone suddenly shouts, an aisle or so away, and Felix is ripped out of his trance. “I wanted you to try those sugar cookies they have here! They’re so good.”

 ‘Mercie’ laughs in reply and their two sets of footsteps are loud as encroaching thunder in the empty store at four in the morning. Felix belatedly realises that he is still in the candy aisle, and that he’s probably going to run into the only other customers in the store right now. Bolting proves ineffectual, because the second he turns to go anywhere else, he comes face to face with the one person he always runs into in the strangest places.

 “Felix? What a coincidence!” Annette greets him, in a pair of kitty-patterned pyjama pants and a bomber jacket. Next to her is a woman almost a head taller in a similar state of dress, with a serene smile and her hand casually clasped around Annette’s. Not a crush, insists a voice at the back of Felix’s mind when a misplaced bout of anger—not jealousy, because this isn’t a crush—flares up inside him.

 He coughs and shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah,” he mumbles, and Annette keeps coming closer, dragging ‘Mercie’ along with her.

 “What brings you here so early?” she asks, brightly. She takes an exaggerated peek at the contents of Felix’s basket. “A sudden cheese craving? I sometimes get those, too!”

 “It’s not for me,” he replies. “I’m just playing errand boy.”

 Annette lets out a thoughtful hum. “Well, we still ended up running into each other! I mean, what are the odds?” She smiles before visibly recoiling. “Oh no, I forgot to,” and here, she tugs ‘Mercie’ forward, “introduce you!”

 “Mercie, that’s Felix—you know, Felix, who I keep running into!” she explains. “And um, this is Mercie, my best friend in the whole wide world! And my roommate, too.”

 “Mercedes. Pleased to meet you,” the taller woman says, disentangling her hand from Annette’s to offer it to Felix. The gesture is jarringly formal, but Felix shakes it on instinct. Mercedes’ hand itself is really soft while her grip is anything but. “Annie has mentioned you on occasion. It really is quite curious how you bump into each other so much.”

If there’s a threat hidden behind her words, Felix has trouble telling so, if only because Mercedes’ tone is unwaveringly sweet and even. “It’s only chance meetings,” he mutters, and pulls his hand back.

 “It’s actually weirder that we haven’t met before,” Annette says. “He’s friends with Ingrid—you know, the one who works with Ashe? And yet, we somehow managed to never meet. It’s so weird.”

 Mercedes laughs lightly before looking at the shelves next to her. “Were you looking to buy sweets, Felix?” she asks. “Annie and I could give you some recommendations if you’d like.”

 “Yes, we know our stuff! Don’t we Mercie?” Annette beams and Mercedes laughs. Felix feels like his head hurts from looking at the brightness of the two women before him for too long. Annette leans toward him. “Truth be told, Mercie is a regular patissier,” she stage-whispers.

 “I don’t like sweets,” Felix replies, and watches the women’s faces fall in tandem. “I was looking for something like crackers or chips, maybe.”

 “For your friend?” Mercedes asks, and he shakes his head. “Oh, I do know a great brand of chips! If you haven’t tried them yet, may I recommend them to you?”

 It becomes extremely clear to Felix then that Mercedes is someone who is used to carrying conversations in a non-offensive manner. She gently guides him by the arm, steering him towards the savoury snacks opposite the sweets—and why hadn’t he been looking at those in the first place?—and plucks two bags of chips from the shelf before dumping them into Felix’s basket. He feels a bit like a little kid.

 “Can we get some of those, too, Mercie?” Annette pipes up from behind them, and Mercedes smiles before getting another bag. “You’re the best!”

 “Of course, Annie,” she laughs before the both of them end up staring at Felix once again. Before either of them can say anything, though, Felix’s phone goes off. The ringtone is awfully loud in the quiet store, and he frantically fumbles for it to get it to stop.

 “What.”

 “Did you get my cheese yet?” comes a sullen Dimitri’s voice from the other end of the line. “You don’t have to, if it’s too much trouble.” Felix has to restrain himself from chucking his phone into the next aisle. Instead, he takes a deep breath, reminds himself that Dimitri is in one of his moods, and looks down at his basket.

 “Not yet, but I’m already on my way to checkout,” he says, which isn’t really a lie since he has no business here anymore, “and I’ll be at your place in ten minutes.” He hears Dimitri inhale as if to say something. “And don’t apologise for anything right now.”

 “Alright,” he says. Then, quieter, “Thank you, Felix.”

 “Whatever.”

 He hangs up and looks at Annette and Mercedes, who don’t even pretend to not have listened in. “I, uh, gotta go,” Felix says.

 “Of course,” says Mercedes, smiling, while next to her, Annette makes a shooing motion with her hands.

 “Go already, your friend needs you!” she says. “Don’t leave them hanging now! Their cheese cravings depend on you, Felix!”

 “Alright, I got it,” he says, and has to fight back a smile as, for once, he is the one to walk away to twin yells of take care!

  v.

 The Laundromat’s humming and the steady spinning of Felix’s blacks and colours inside is actually kind of hypnotic. He’s been staring at the drum tumbling his clothing around for almost ten minutes now, and he’s surprised by how meditative a state it’s left him in. The monotonous motion chases away any and all thoughts, and it’s great.

 Someone begins loading a washing machine a few paces away, but Felix keeps staring at his clothes getting tossed.

 “I’m washing my clothes today,” the other person suddenly starts singing, “washing all the filth away.” They’re tapping their feet along with it, too. “Stains, and dust, and old food crusts; getting all the dirt out of my t-shirt!”

 The lyrics are absolutely asinine, but the voice singing them is sweet and steady and actually kind of familiar, and when Felix looks up, sure enough, it’s Annette again. She’s swaying her hips as she stuffs her laundry into the drum, smiling cheerfully. “And when I lose another sock, this time I will know where to look, I—no, that doesn’t really rhyme.”

 She huffs, and Felix sees that as his chance to very casually clear his throat. Annette yelps, and whips around, probably already intending on apologising to her unintended audience when she realises who it is. “Oh no, you heard that, didn’t you?”

 “I think the sock-look rhyme was okay,” Felix says, and Annette goes beet red in the face.

 “No, oblique rhymes aren’t okay at all!” she insists and drops a blouse just so she can cover her face. “Ugh, I can’t believe you had to hear that! You wanted to hear me sing and now this is how it happens. I swear I’m usually better than this! I’m just not warmed up!”

 “It wasn’t bad,” Felix insists. Annette chances a peek at him through the gaps in her fingers. Felix feels heat rise to his own cheeks. “I mean, you have a good voice. It’s nice.”

 “You’re not just saying that?”

 “Why would I lie about that?” he snaps, and Annette practically flinches away from him. He coughs into his fist and pretends he doesn’t feel how much hotter his face is getting, still. “Though I would like to know where the socks go.”

 Annette huffs and finally removes her hands from her face again. “You’re just teasing me now,” she says, picking up the blouse she dropped before practically slamming it into the washing machine. “If you really want to know—they get stuck in places you can’t see them a lot. Close to the rim, at the top, you name it. But this is a Laundromat, so they don’t keep them, I don’t think.”

 She picks up a shirt and puts it into the drum. “I learned that the hard way. I lost one of my cutest socks here. I had to throw the other away, Felix.” It sounds like a life-changing incident to her, and Felix can’t help but snort. Annette shoots him an indignant look that almost immediately melts away into a fond smile. “Mercie tried to tell me there was a type of malicious spirit that steals clothing from young women for two weeks, and eventually, I started believing it.”

 Felix laughs, short and unbidden. Annette looks elated about it. “Smiling is a good look on you,” she says, eyes bright and honest. It does something to Felix, and all of a sudden, he finds himself drawing a complete blank. He just stares at Annette, feels his heart hammering away in his chest, and thinks, oh.

 This is a crush after all.

 “I need some air,” he says, sounding winded just from having the metaphorical air knocked out of him, and Annette looks worried for a second. Felix shakes his head as if to say that he’s alright and moves past her without waiting for a reply. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

 He bolts from the store and walks just far enough to the side so Annette can’t see him through the glass front. He pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls through his contacts for Sylvain’s name when he pauses, his thumb hovering an inch or so above the call icon. Maybe this isn’t the best course of action here, he thinks, moving one contact up—from Gautier to Galatea—and calling Ingrid instead.

 “Felix?” she says upon picking up in lieu of a greeting. “You never call. Is something wrong?”

 “You were right.”

 Ingrid sighs, maybe because she realises that nothing seems to be on fire, and shifts her phone about. “I usually am.” More rustling follows. “What is this about?”

 Felix exhales shakily, then forces himself into an act of nonchalance with a shrug and sheer willpower. “It is a crush,” he rushes out. “I have a stupid crush on Annette.”

 “Oh, Felix,” says Ingrid, “it’s not stupid.” She refrains from assuming the tone she usually reserves for preaching and scolding, at least, Felix thinks. He almost feels like she isn’t being patronising for once. “You have nothing to lose from asking her to spend time with you. I’m sure she will agree to it.” Something shifts again and Ingrid speaks to someone in the background. “It’s not rocket science. Just be nice to her about it all.”

 “As if you know anything about these things.”

 Ingrid scoffs. “Who called who, again?” she shoots back, and Felix hangs up on her before she can get actually upset with him.

  v.b.

 “Are you feeling any better?” Annette asks when Felix steps back inside. She’s sitting on the bench in front of her Laundromat, back turned towards it as if she had been waiting for him. It makes Felix feel kind of bad.

 “Yes,” he says. Then, “Sorry.”

 Annette stands up with an almighty sigh. “You got pale all of a sudden,” she says and walks over to him. “I was worried, you know!” She doesn’t seem too angry, at least. If anything, it looks like she’s holding back a grin.

 Felix mentally steels himself for what he’s about to say next. “Can I make it up to you somehow, then?”

 “Like how?” Annette asks, and she sounds genuinely confused. What would Felix give for her to catch on more quickly right now.

 “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe buy you lunch after this.”

 His face is probably red as a tomato by now, judging by the heat. Annette stares at him with wide eyes and he can’t keep looking at her. “Felix, say,” she begins, slow and tentative, “are you asking me out?”

 “I am.”

 It’s surprising how resolutely that comes out, because Felix feels terribly out of his depth. Talking about feelings—implied or otherwise—is something he doesn’t usually do.

 “Well, I mean, I could go for some ice cream after our laundry is done. It’s so nice out,” Annette says like it’s just any other conversation. When Felix chances at glance at her, she is almost as red in the face as when she’d realised she had been singing for an audience earlier, though. “But if you don’t care for it, that’s fine, too,” she adds, hastily.

 “It’s your call,” Felix replies and actually makes an effort to maintain eye-contact. They’re both red-faced and awkward, but eventually, Annette breaks out into a bright smile.

 “Alright! And until it’s done,” she says, spinning in place before dramatically flopping down on the bench, “I’ll sing you one of my more refined songs. Just to show you that I know how rhymes work!”

 And as Annette drags him down by the hand to get him to sit next to her, and as she begins to sing what turns out to be an album’s worth of bizarrely themed songs, Felix realises that, maybe, he already knows a thing or two about Annette already.