#thinking about that one fic where he and dimitri fuck and he asks dimitri to wear his ancestor's armor SFOEJSOEFJSEOJ thats an iconic one.

[heleizition]

im an itty bitty baby that caught a cold. pls tell me who dimiashe are. also im holding ur art so gently in my hands hgnnnnnn pretty pretty

oh noooooo get well soon !!!!!!!!! (i will get back to ur ask on my ocs also but im having a bad case of i have to think abt something else for a while bc im not happy with my ocs rn SEFJOFSEOJSEF)

dimiashe are dimitri & ashe from fire emblem three houses .

theres a timeskip in this game so this is dimitri before timeskip

and this is dimitri after timeskip (wet and pathetic beast)

this is ashe

his design doesnt change much after timeskip except that he's more bulky...

dimitri is the crown prince & ashe is an ex thief who ended up in the monastry in the same class as dimitri (and other cool people yay).

i don't even know what to tell u about them bc i played the game forever ago and idk what is my memory of them in canon and what is made up in my little head but they're a sort of rarepair anyway so . (as far as i know and i havent rly checked the fandom in a while) (its also hard bc im much more picky when it comes to fic that i used to be rip) THERES LITTLE CONTENT . anyway bonus point bc ashe is a short king and dimitri is huge. :)

[sheikahwarriork]

What would be your favorite dimileth dynamic??? (both in hopes and houses if possible)

ALL OF THEM 😃

okay i'll try to be serious for once lmao.

first, acadimileth has a special spot in my heart. i know some people dont like the teacherxstudent thing, but i think with dimileth works perfectly without too many moral issues: 1) dimitri and byleth are close in age, 2) it's not our modern world, but a fantasy/medieval ages-like, 3) him being a FUCKING PRINCE outclasses her being a teacher, in the "omg she has power over him" argument speaking. also, they dont do anything while dimitri is still a student, the in-game romance happens after 5 years of byleth sleeping, plus 1 year of war where byleth is not a teacher anymore.

so, acadimileth is one of my fav dimileth type. i love when dimitri is shy thinking about his professor and his inner turmoils, and i love that byleth slowly learns how to have friends, how to feel emotions, and how to understand that the funny feeling she feels in her heart everytime she thinks about dimitri is something more than "simple friendship" eueue :D also hot bc forbidden.

also for three houses, i like dimileth with feralmitri after the time-skip. i may be ace, but feralmitri makes me feel Things 👀 ahem anyway. the angst, the hurt/comfort, feralmitri making feral sex with his professor, it's just *chef kiss*

i also enjoy a good CF!dimileth lovers to enemies (to lovers), but i need my happy ending or i'll get sad t.t

as for three hopes, i love enemies to lovers, and reincarnation au!!!!! best if there's both! dimitri fights the ashen demon on the battlefield, but he's so mesmerized by her he almost gets killed, but then the ashen demon stops her sword, they look at each other... EUEUEUE yes i love hopes!dimileth a lot too. i wish the game had more dimileth itself but OH WELL thank sothis there are fanfiction.

i also enjoy a lot modern au. my fav type is work collegues, i dont even know why, i dont work in a office xD maybe bc this thrope can bring that bit of "forbidden" acadimileth has?

in general, i love mutual pining, especially dimitri pining for his professor, while byleth is not fully aware of her feelings and can even get jealous! i love soulmates au bc i'm a sucker for soulmates; in both canon and modern au. i love when dimitri gets feral for his beloved, and i love when byleth learns feelings thanks to dimitri.

so, yeah, i like almost every dimileth dynamic xD my only "turn-off" from a fic is a bad ending, and/or if dimileth is not endgame. i need them to be happy or i'll CRY for real cwc

oh, last note: i do enjoy established relationship and post-game fics, but i dont read them much often. i prefer the drama and THEN the happy ending with them getting together lmao

thank you so much for the ask anon!! if you have some fics to recommend, please go ahead! 💙💚

[cryptidghostgirl]

Omg <3

Well I’d be obsessed with a fluffy Tyler x reader fic where they both are in jericho’s theater, and they both get the lead roles in a romance play. Through a bunch of rehearsals and stuff they eventually catch feelings 🥰 the play can be whatever you want btw, just preferably a show with a cute romance lol <3

I love this prompt. We're doing and musical of Anastasia.

Once Upon a December (soft!Tyler x Reader)

Pairing: Tyler Galpin x Reader

Warnings: high school au. everybody is in school together. dont worry about it.

Word Count: 1794

Status: Unedited

masterlist

Tyler hadn't wanted to audition but, part of the punishment for his acting out meant that he had to start participating in extra curriculars and being an extra in some musical didn't seem so bad. Everything was going to plan, he had auditioned, sang the little song, massively fucked up the dance on purpose, and then, somehow, everything had gone to shit and he had gotten the male lead: Dimitri. Tyler had no idea how it'd happened but now here he was, at the first reading.

The school wasn't a very big one so even if you weren't friends with someone, you still knew who they were. For example, Tyler had never said a word to the girl but when she entered the room and sat in the seat next to him which bore the name tag 'Anastasia' during the first read through of the script, he still knew her name was Y/n L/n.

Tyler had always viewed Y/n as someone a lot more on the reserved side. She was a music kid, always hanging around with the other tortured teenage artists like Xavier Thorpe and Wednesday Addams. However, after only a few rehearsals, Tyler had begun to think that she was perfectly cast.

Anastasia as a character was headstrong, a little snotty, rude at times, and above all a know it all. So was Y/n. She always had to be right, correcting him when he forgot his blocking, whispering notes to him, even going so far as to grab his script right out of his hands and write things in it, muttering about how irritating he was all the while.

Tyler couldn't help but notice that he was the only one she acted this way towards. Sure, he was new to the mostly rotating group of theater kids the school was home to but he couldn't help himself wishing he was welcome to sit with Xavier, Bianca, and Y/n when they were given breaks or that he could even ask Y/n to go over lines with him.

The first time he'd performed his character Dimitri's solo song My Petersburg for the rest of the cast, he could feel her eyes drilling into him. Y/n, the perfectionist, even got yelled at when they were learning their duet In a Crowd of Thousands for not being able to get into character.

"You're supposed to be in love!" the music director had said, frustration evident in his every word, "act like it!"

After their first full run through of the whole show without scripts, the cast had held a party. It had been a Friday so of course there was loud music and too many drinks and even some drugs. Tyler was surprised he'd been invited at all, even more surprised still when Bianca who played the Countess Lily, dragged him off the front porch of whoever's house they were at and forced him to join a circle for truth or dare.

Everyone was drunk, doing stupid things and making too much noise. Ajax who was apparently part of the stage crew, was forced to drink a whole bottle of ketchup. Devina, the Dowager Empress, revealed she had a crush on one of the schools many football players. Xavier had to streak across the backyard. When Tyler got picked, he chose truth and had to admit why he even auditioned in the first place.

Now that it was his turn to ask questions, he turned his hazy gaze directly on Y/n who sat across from him, cheeks flushed and a mostly empty bottle in her hand.

"Y/n." he began, "Truth or dare?"

She turned away from Xavier who she'd been speaking to and looked lazily across at him.

"Truth." she stated after a moment, crossing her arms on the table and leaning forward, "ask me anything Galpin."

"Why do you hate me?" the words had slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.

Y/n looked incredibly taken aback and stayed silent for a moment before hiding her face in her arms.

"it's embarrassing!" she whined and Xavier patted her back as the rest of the cast and crew cheered her on.

"You gotta answer." Bianca laughed, elbowing Y/n who sat back up.

Her cheeks were somehow even redder then they had been before as she made eye contact with Tyler once more.

"I..." she looked away, "The truth is, I didn't audition for Anastasia. I wanted to play Dimitri. I auditioned for him and I didn’t get him but somehow you, who had never been in a single show before and were apparently being forced to be here, you who were trying to sabotage yourself and get ensemble, you Tyler got him. And I got Anastasia. I mean, I’m grateful, I love her character and I grew up watching the movie so it’s definitely cool to get to play her but….”

“why did you want to play Dimitri so badly?” Tyler asked and Y/n looked up at him.

“I answered your truth already Galpin.” she teased, her whole demeanor flipping in a matter of seconds, “my turn now.”

After that night, the pair seemed to have a little more space for one another. There were some kinder words shared and when they had to learn to do their kiss scenes, something the director had saved until the end, they even found a way to laugh about it.

Tyler thought they were just becoming friends at least, until they were all fitted for costumes.

Xavier and he were running lines while Y/n, Bianca, and Devina we’re getting fitted when they heard a shriek.

“do you think everything is okay?” asked Tyler, turning towards the direction the noise had come from.

“It’s just Y/n.” Xavier responded with a chuckle, “She loves getting costumes.”

There was the sound of rushed footsteps and fabric and suddenly, Y/n burst out from backstage. She was wearing a dress of sorts but Tyler couldn’t quite see it due to the way she was holding it up to run.

“guys!!” she squealed before dropping the skirt and spinning, “look what costuming did for me!! it’s an exact replica of her gold dress from the movie!! I don’t know how they swung this but like,, ahhh!! it’s so amazing!!”

It was then that Tyler realized he has never seen Y/n outside of her baggy jeans and tee shirts. He had never been to a show she was in, never seen her in a dress or something tight fitting before, never seen her so happy.

Xavier wolf whistled and Y/n laughed, walking over to them.

“you look great.” Tyler said and he meant it.

He’d never noticed how pretty she was before but here, eyes shining as she fawned over and explained all the detail in her dress, she was gorgeous.

At last it was their opening night. Tyler saw Y/n mouthing the lyrics to My Petersburg from off stage as he sang it. People applauded at the end of every scene. Before he even knew it, they were at their duet.

“I didn’t tell you that.” Tyler said as Dimitri and when Y/n turned to him to say her line:

“You didn’t have to, I remember!”

Tyler saw genuine joy behind her eyes. This was what she loved and having such a passion for something, Tyler realized, was an amazing thing, wasn’t it.

Everyone’s favorite scene and song had been quartet at the ballet.

Tyler had never really thought about the lyrics to that song before but as he sang them that night, something in them resonated with him.

someone holds her safe and warm

someone rescues her from the storm

simple things but ones things clear

it’s fate that brought us here

He and Xavier sang together and Tyler was glad for the stage directions saying he should be looking at Anastasia because he couldn’t take his eyes off Y/n.

They broke off into the four way harmony at the end and he could feel the power radiating off of Y/n as they all came together at the end for the songs final

find a way Anastasia

Tyler couldn’t seem to help it. As the play continued on, he couldn’t help but wish all of it was real. Y/n and he had become friends but that was only friends. Tyler was beginning to realize that maybe he wanted to be more than that.

i didn’t know she matter to me but now i can see she does

conman and princess get their wish and fairytale comes true

He sang, wishing the show to never end because somewhere in his head he knew the truth of it. Tyler knew the way she blushed on stage was just an act, the way she held him, the nervous glances. The kisses even, it was all an act and he knew that.

Three nights later and their final show was almost over. For a high school production of a broadway musical, they had done incredibly.

amazing set, wonderful costuming, stellar performances.

Y/n stood on stage, singing the shows third to final song with a passion Tyler had never heard from her before. It was amazing how much voice she could fit inside her body.

I should be glad I’m where I should be

but nothing is what it was

I didn’t know he mattered to me

but now I can see he does

As she sang, she made eye contact with Tyler from off stage. He thought he was imagining it but, maybe, just maybe, a little part of his brain though, maybe she was feeling the same things he was.

before he knew it Xavier was on stage and Y/n tore her gaze away from Tyler, fear taking over her frame and reminding Tyler once more that it was nothing but a show. He had to admit, she was an incredible actor.

After their final bows and the curtains fall, Tyler was surprised to find Y/n waiting for him backstage.

“hi.” she said nervously.

“hey, you did really well tonight.” Tyler responded.

“I was just wondering…” Y/n seemed so nervous.

Tyler had never seen her nervous before.

“Do you wanna go to the after party. With me I mean?” Tyler asked suddenly and Y/n looked up annoyed.

“Thats what I was gonna ask!” she whined, crossing her arms and looking away.

Tyler smiled.

“why don’t we get changed and head over then.” He said lightly.

“Fine,” Y/n groaned, “just one thing first.”

And she kissed him. It wasn’t for the audience, for rehearsal, for anything except herself and in that moment, Tyler knew: he was in big trouble.

A/N ngl I was really drunk when I wrote this, I am sorry. I will go back in and edit.

[samtrapani]

i'm trying to think how an au where faustin is spared would actually go...obviously i'm missing context cause i've only progressed that storyline as far as dimitri's betrayal and that one point where he calls you to tell you he's gonna track you down and kill you, but anyway. i'm assuming this goes as normal till niko gets him up on the roof, and mikhail does his whole spiel and then says the thing about how he's got nowhere to go now (which kinda broke my heart, tbh). he looks very tired. niko asks him what was that he said about dimitri wanting him dead for killing vlad, and mikhail tells him, makes a bitter joke about how dimitri's so obsessed with playing by the rules he can't see the real value of relationships. niko lowers the gun. says to get the hell out of hove beach, he's a wanted man. for once, mikhail sees reason, and he does. for now.

i figure for niko it goes roughly the same–he calls and tells dimitri he "took care of things" without being too specific. even if he figures out before the warehouse that niko lied, dimitri doesn't say anything, just tells him to collect his pay. jacob calls, and niko has a different version of events to tell him this time, plus an even stronger reason to believe he's being set up...but, niko being niko, he goes anyway. the shootout happens. the apartment burning happens. he and roman get the fuck out of broker.

and then, well. i imagine it would be tense at first. niko did kill a lot of mikhail's guys. but a day or so after getting situated in bohan, he gets a call. mikhail's got a new safehouse. come talk to him. they've both fallen far, and there's a long climb ahead for both of them. and a backstabbing little motherfucker to kill.

harry you need to write the fic oh my god i am. squealing and kicking my legs rn

mikhail being lucky to be alive. on the radio, reports of mysterious explosions happening around the city. (not just the apartment and the cab depot, but faustin's house, the club, etc.)

mikhail, tired, staring at niko with the same dead eyes niko thinks he sees in the mirror every morning. had there always been that much grey in his hair? niko thinks, there is something in the way they've been bred that's much alike.

niko, getting that call, not quite sure if he should actually go or not because he's suffered so much loss this far, but he's spared faustin, so why not? the man clearly has had most of his ranks depleted and is also starting from almost scratch so he goes.

i like to think. maybe then. niko coming into the new safehouse and seeing the teapot, perhaps the last thing mikhail could've pulled from the fire. mikhail offering him a drink. to old allies and new enemies and unexpected friendships. it's a good tea, strong, bitter. it's time to get to work :)

[mousegard]

I don't know what ask game this is for, but Marianne?

marianne! marianne is i love her yes

favorite thing about them

oh my god i love marianne. she's just. this baby can hold so much catholic guilt and subtextually repressed homosexuality/gender shit. tgirl swag. if anybody tries to tell you that all the catholic aesthetics in fe3h are just superficial window dressing (yes there are idiots in the fandom who still say that last i checked) just point at marianne and tell them to learn how to read

also! also! marianne is just... she doesn't know her own strengths. and i mean that literally, in that she has swordfaire as a budding talent, and in more metaphorical senses. she's shown in a lot of her endings and in some of her supports to have a lot of potential for political acumen... she's a potential leader who's been beaten down and stifled by the stupid myths surrounding crests and a poster child for edelgard's revolution. hell a lot of her paired endings with people like dimitri make it pretty obvious she's the brains of the operation!

if edelgard didn't exist, i wouldn't be surprised to see marianne start some sort of revolution against the church's dogma of her own! it wouldn't look like edelgard's revolution, but who knows? now that could be a fic... hail the mighty marianne...

also tgirl swag

least favorite thing about them

i hate that i'm torn between "the point of marianne's character is that she is literally in no more danger of turning into a monster than any other character in the game who has crests, demonstrating how fodlan's false religion and its crest obsession ruins people's lives" "marianne should be able to turn into a giant monster because hhhhhhhh giant monster angst" but that's not a marianne problem that's a willow problem

favorite line

"The blood of a beast no longer flows through me. I feel human for once."

i really like her paralogue okay. how finding out the truth of maurice and seeing him off to his eternal rest frees her from the long shadow she and her ancestors have all lived under... good for you, marianne. you get that catharsis. you get it good

brOTP

marianne/ferdinand. ferdinand is a good egg and he does so much in their supports to help marianne see her own strengths and value as a person! i don't like, ship them ship them, but i think they have a wonderful friendship

although, the paired ending where ferdinand commissions a statue of her and she's so embarrassed by it that she won't let anyone see it is really funny...

there's also marianne and linhardt, which is really sweet

OTP

who do i ship her with? more like who don't i ship her with?

i think hilda/marianne is very sweet, though i have to admit that it's mainly the aesthetic. can't beat cotton candy pink and blue. also tgirl swag

and then there's dimitri. marianne is really one of the only characters i ship with dimitri. in fact she might be the only character i ship with dimitri. i love how they bond over their shared survivor's guilt and move on together

but i can't stop there. because then. you have marigard. and like yeah i ship literally almost every female character with edelgard because i am extremely gay and extremely thirsty and so is she. but marianne and edelgard is special. you have the shared religious angst. the mutual feeling that they are unlovable in the eyes of the goddess. the survivor's guilt. the shared indictment of the crest system and the church of seiros. the suicidal ideation. the hhhhhhhhhhhh and also edelgard has the whole hegemon thing and GOD i love it when people ship marianne with hegemon edelgard. like fuck yes. hell yes. more please. WHY NO SUPPORTS INTSYS

nOTP

there aren't any marianne ships that i hate. at worst there are ones i'm indifferent to but that's hardly a notp

random headcanon

did i mention the tgirl swag? because boy does marianne have tgirl swag

i would love to write a fic where marianne comes into her own as a political force to be reckoned with earlier, like mid-timeskip, and tips the scales of the leicester alliance into supporting edelgard and the adrestian empire's war on the church, basically turning cf into a cf/gw hybrid

i think marianne and claude would be best friends until politics comes out. then it's knives out. and then the politics are done and they're best friends again. the two things you never do around marianne are talk shit about dorte and talk shit about her trade policy. dorte's trade policy is fair game though, i mean he's a horse, he can't even read and you expect him to understand tariffs

unpopular opinion

marianne has a lot of hidden depths that i think a lot of the fandom glosses over so they can reduce her to "pretty girl with self-esteem issues/shyness/depression/anxiety" and it does a disservice to all of her hidden strengths, not just her strength with a sword but also her political canniness, and also to the root cause of her mental issues and the crushing existential burden she carries—which is, of course, the church

song i associate with them

i think this song just fits so nicely with marianne's crushing fear of what she might become and the eventual fate of maurice

I have this feeling that my luck is none too good This sword here at my side don't act the way it should Keeps calling me its master, but I feel like its slave Hauling me faster and faster to an early, early grave And it howls, it howls like hell

favorite picture of them

bluestarRaziel

[teaveetamer]

Since you've written a lot of Dimidue, I wanted to ask about why it appeals to you. As a fellow Dimidue shipper, I'm always intrigued about why other fans gravitated towards it. Personally, I multi ship Dimidue, Dimilix, Sylvix so I'm not a "die for one ship" type of fan lol. But the 8 Blue Lions are so ship able together that they're all so easy to poly ship as well. There's very little I won't ship in the Blue Lions because they're all so interesting and well written and great dynamic together

Idk to be honest because it definitely wasn't my main when I started with the fandom. I think it was a couple of factors:

#1 I honestly just didn't expect to like it as much as I did.

I don't hate the lord/retainer dynamic in FE, it's just that usually the execution leaves a bit to be desired. Like Leo/Niles. I don't hate it, but it was always missing something to really sucker punch me and get me on board. Never really knew what it was though, until Dimidue came on the scene.

I think what really took them over the line was just like? How much of a unit they already seemed to be? I mean you literally cannot escape them talking about each other. Even Dimitri has dialogue in 3H where he explicitly talks about Dedue. It's very clear that whatever feelings they have toward each other, they're mutual, and it turns out that was what I was missing from the previous lord/retainer dynamics. All of those tended to be more one-sided on the part of the retainer, so a ship with the lord/retainer dynamic where they're equally invested (and if they aren't you could definitely make the case that it's the lord who is more invested?) Sign me up.

2) There's just so much to work with

I mean you have their supports, which are super gay don't get me wrong, but like? You also have Dedue's return at Myrrdin in AM, or their death scene in CF, or Dedue's revenge quest in VW, and all of their explore sections and dialogue where the two of them stand together quite often, and their whole untapped pre-academy history. AND THEN on top of THAT we got Three Hopes with even more Dimidue

3) It's kind of different from what I'd been doing?

I love Sylvix too, don't get me wrong, but I think part of the reason I gravitated less toward reading and writing it is because... I mean people made the joke that Sylvix was just nu!Leokumi and they aren't... entirely wrong... I mean they aren't identical or anything but the Takumi-to-Felix pipeline is pretty apparent and Leo and Sylvain are both sad boys with daddy issues.

So yeah I spent like five years writing a ton of Leokumi stuff and then Sylvix was feeling a little too similar to me. Dimidue was a completely different dynamic with completely different character archetypes and I found that really appealing, so I think I gravitated toward that a lot

4) This might be shallow but I'm over giving a fuck lmao. I like bottom!Dimitri pretty much exclusively and Dimidue was the only ship that would consistently feed me.

5) Dimidue being a smaller ship I also felt kind of protective over it? Not like I own it or anything but like. This is a precious seed that needs to be nurtured and babied into fruition. So a lot of my Dimidue stuff just comes from me wanting to fill out the archive with more quantity and variety of stuff for them, because it's kind of a bummer when you go to a ship's tag and there's only like ten fics and they're all G rated fluff (or if you wanna get spicy, E rated fluff with lots of hand holding and eye contact. I love that for Dimidue, but I also want Dimitri to choke on a cock and call someone daddy sometimes, y'know???)

I wouldn't say I set out to be a mono-shipper btw. I don't mind shipping characters with others, but I think I just naturally gravitate toward having an OTP.

[burr-ell]

man,,,if i have to read "oh if only claude had spilled his guts in the library to edelgard the war could've been prevented🥺" one more time im gonna🔪

as if it's claude's fault that the war happened as if it's claude's responsibility to prevent the war to begin with, edelgard had nothing to do with it at all... as if claude having a lapse in judgement and going 'okay! :)' wouldn't have been the fucking stupidest possible thing for him to do in that confrontation.

like! byleth themselves can get to know edelgard, form a close relationship with her, and it's depicted as the closest relationship that edelgard has in game and yet! even byleth cannot stop edelgard from going down her warpath. and these people think that claude is gonna change her mind because ??? short of killing her dead, there is nothing claude could've said or done, nor is it on him that edelgard made her choice!

but let's say that claude forgot his brain that day so edelgard cornering him & trying to paint him as suspicious in front of his professor is totes okay and he spills the beans... you mean to tell me that edelgard wouldn't just consider blackmailing him or making him a political prisoner? you mean to tell me that hubert (who you know is probably lurkin in the shadows) wouldn't consider doing it regardless if edelgard agreed to it?

claude throwing that request right back in edelgard's face is not, in fact, hypocritical of him. she has no grounds or right to ask this of claude, and him going 'haha u first' highlights this. it's not the same as lorenz questioning him, as ultimately, he's coming from a place of wanting what's best for the alliance. and later lorenz gets better. edelgard? its none of her goddamned business lol

i mean vw was my first pt & i went in not knowing who the flame emperor was (all i knew is that it wasn't dimitri) and the fact that the game went 'ooo that claude isn't he so sus??' made me go 'kk so it's not him' and that was about as much thought as i gave it, what with everything else hogging my attention lol. so when edelgard reveals herself in the holy tomb i immediately went 'oooh so that was the point of the library scene! that was the hint!' the absolute irony of the flame emperor cornering claude and painting him suspicious was the point! and yet! people completely miss that to go '🤔how can i make this all claude's actually' god

short of killing her dead, there is nothing claude could've said or done, nor is it on him that edelgard made her choice!

There's actually a pretty good fic that has Claude do exactly this. I reread it periodically for free serotonin.

as if it's claude's fault that the war happened as if it's claude's responsibility to prevent the war to begin with, edelgard had nothing to do with it at all... as if claude having a lapse in judgement and going 'okay! :)' wouldn't have been the fucking stupidest possible thing for him to do in that confrontation.

SAY 👏 IT 👏 LOUDER 👏LITERALLY GO OFF ANON

Edelgard is always held to a lower standard than every character in the game lol, like she could have deliberately given everyone at Garreg Mach the plague and her simps would say it's everyone else's fault for not wearing biohazard suits 24/7. Literally every interaction Claude has had with her at that point in the game has been laced with antagonism, usually from her. Why is Claude obligated to tell Edelgard his whole backstory when she's actively rude and dismissive toward him, but she isn't obligated to, say, tell everyone that the Duscur people weren't responsible for the Tragedy and thus make herself uuuuuhhhh not complicit in a genocide? Why is Claude obligated to reveal the sources of his most deep-seated trauma to someone he barely knows, but Edelgard isn't obligated to just tell everyone where Flayn is, or better yet, not hire out her pet serial killer to Flayn's kidnappers in the first place?

It's the most pathetic thing, honestly, but narcissistic cults of personality have been started for less.

[fireemblems24]

VW Chapter 19

Onto Verdant Wind now, in what I suspect will look suspiciously like SS's chapter.

Spoilers for up to Chapter 19 for all routes except SS (ch 18) possibly below.

Pre-Battle

So I'm betting this is the "defeat Hubert" chapter? But the question is, for real this time or no?

Yep, you're fighting the Death Knight and Hubert . . . again . . . Who's left after this, just Edelgard?

LAMO, funny how Claude opens nearly the exact same way Seteth did.

Oh, I get to ask about the citizens this time? Picking that answer 100%. The vibe is so different from CF where invading is an exciting thing. At least for Caspar. Maybe I'm misremembering others.

You know what? That would be an interesting post if I ever had the time for it. To go through the script somewhere and list every time citizens/commoners are mentioned throughout the game and just see if different routes vibe differently.

YIKES - Edelgard's using her citizens as a shield to protect her? That's . . . that's something. I guess she's living up to her claim during that Lonato chapter.

I still hope we find Rhea again though. I'm super curious to hear her story.

Battle

When Claude says - no route enemy, target enemy commanders - I ignore him.

So . . . Byleth wolloped the Death Knight for most of his HP and he only had like 16 left. And I wanted to give him the most lolz death possible, so I had . . . Marianne . . . kill him - with an iron lance. Frozen Lance FTW.

Having Claude attack Hubert for that sweet, sweet unique dialogue.

LAMO he called Hubert a lapdog. Hubert tried to be edgy, and Claude was just having none of it.

But why does Hubert give you a Goddess Icon when he dies? That will never not be funny to me.

Post-Battle

DEDUE. What a way to return to the game after a two week separation than to see my lovely Dedue again.

Except this is VW Dedue and Dimitri is dead, and he's just living for vengeance now, which Dimitri would hate.

Ok, so is there any fanfics out there of a post-Grondor VW or SS Dedue meeting ghost Dimitri or something? I think I want that pain. Those two seeing each other again, Dedue realizing Dimitri's still dead, Dimitri blaming himself for Dedue living for vengeance and nothing else, and then Dimitri fades away again before either get to confess their feelings.

On second thought. I don't want that fic. I want AM back. Or a VW fic where Dimitri survives and reunites with Dedue for real.

Dedue the real MVP, and now he's off on his own. What happens to Dedue after this? Do you ever see him again?

LAMO. Claude wants a new ruling system too. Edelgard really never bothered talking to him, hunh.

No. Claude. No. We do NOT need one powerful ruler leading all of Fodlan. Divide the power, don't centralize it. One all-powerful ruler is a horrible, horrible idea.

I'm totally picking "I should be that ruler." Because it makes no sense whatsoever, because who wants to put a rando mercenary on the throne? Claude's probably the right pick, but I can't resist.

Claude was upset with me lamo.

It better not be Byleth in charge at the end. Oh, God, please don't tell me all the routes don't end with an all-powerful Byleth ruling everything while Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude just roll over.

Pre-Battle

These chapter pictures are kinda cool looking. They remind me of folk art or what you'd see in an illustrated book on Nordic mythology. I like it.

Oh, no, it's that same lame response from Byleth about not wanting to kill Edelgard. But why though? Byleth doesn't even KNOW Edelgard here?

I hope Claude gets annoyed with me for whining about some girl I talked to like twice who's currently destroying the continent. I hope this trite doesn't show up in AM too. It made sense for SS, but VW?????

That's fair from Claude. Sure, we won't kill if we don't have to, but she has to be willing to work with someone else which doesn't seem like her strong suite.

Time to go kill Edelgard again. I hope I can keep Dedue alive this time too. Last time was easier because my units are better. I could just send Sylvain and Ferdinand anywhere, surrounded by enemies, and they don't care. This group, not so much :(

Battle

Claude just called Edelgard our "bashful little Emperor." She'd be livid.

The plan is to get Felix to kill Edelgard to get vengeance for Dimitri. The problem is that Felix is a dancer and doesn't have a lot of strength. Let's see if he can pull this off.

But first, Edelgard and Claude dialogue.

Lol, Claude promising to finish the job for Claude. I'm liking his more laid back tone more than I did before.

Edelgard really refuses to work with Claude, hunh. He asked her twice now, she even acknowledged that Claude's after the same thing but still refuses to work with him because he got a C in history class I guess.

It's funny hearing Edelgard tell someone they lack self awareness.

No unique dialogue for Felix and Edelgard though :(

So, this is how it went down in my head. Felix kept quiet and standoffish, not bothering to know the Golden Deer better, just staying in the training room day and night, focusing on nothing but the blade. But then he never used it on the battlefield and only danced, never really seeing combat. So when they were storming the castle and seeing Felix advance towards the throne room, they all expected he'd dance. But he walks by Claude, walks by the rest and advances on Edelgard, saying he'll cut through, not even realizing that's what Dimitri used to say. But Claude remembers. And he watches Felix's cold eyes and a single-minded focus on taking Edelgard down. And he does.

Then Felix leaves without saying a word, exchanging one quick, understanding glance with Dedue, who always knew that, despite their very different ways of going about it, that they were the two who loved Dimitri the most.

Ok, I'm finished now. Someone take this keyboard away from me. I haven't gotten to write in two weeks now.

Post Battle

Wait, this is the same cut scene??? Why the fuck is Edelgard calling Byleth her teacher? I don't even know her?

This scene makes no sense here. It was good in SS, but wtf Edelgard, why are you so hung up on Byleth when you don't even know them?? God, I'm not looking forward to seeing this again in AM.

Edelgard really be a simp, hunh.

So how confused was everyone that played VW or AM first and saw Edelgard, who you don't know at all, get all weepy over Byleth for no real reason?

Leonie MVP. Not surprised, girl put in the work.

No, we beat her because of Felix, not because of Byleth. Byleth was on chest duty.

Oh, the letter is here too. This really is the exact same as SS again. Poor Claude. He really deserved better. Dedue and Hubert have bigger roles in VW than Claude does for crying out loud.

If it's the same group as Monica and Tomas, I'm not that worried about them. They weren't exactly . . . threatening.

Rhea, though, she's back!

Oh, at least this is a bit different with him asking about the children of the goddess. He could wait a second and let poor Rhea step outside in the sunlight again first though.

So the guy named Nemesis wasn't a hero after all. I'm shocked. Totally shocked I tell you.

Can I take a wild guess that Rhea, Flayn, and Seteth are "the children of the Goddess?" And the Goddess is Sothis obviously. That's why they wanted Flayn's blood, because it's fancy blood.

Claude's a globalist lol. Hey, at least he acknowledged Duscur - unlike someone . . .

Next Chapter

Shamballa sounds like a place in Fullmetal Alchemist

At least they addressed why they never bombed the monastery.

Still doesn't explain why they haven't dropped one on Dimitri yet though.

Rhea is coming!!! I know I won't get to use her as a unit though :(

This is still the exact same as SS though :(

[fellhellion]

can you make a rec list of your favorite fe3h fics? if that's alright?

OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE TO <3 always happy to give my fave works a shoutout <33333

Though mind u this is going to be a LOT so ill pop them under a cut

from the heart in exile

TLDR: platonic hubert edelgard fic that haunts me. It’s extremely good with really well written character voices and focuses on these two characters trying to find out who they are beyond the war with their friends refusing to leave them behind

Summary: 

You can’t speak just yet to whether time—and age? experience? not that war or rulership have given you much of the latter, at least in the area of gardening—has made your thumbs any less brown, but the house in the Oghma Mountains is surrounded by so many growing things it hardly seems to matter. It sits at the edge of a forest, on the gentle lower slopes, and the people in the nearest town had all smiled to speak of it when they pointed the way for Hubert, the day you arrived. A number of them were old enough to remember what it had been like, years ago, in the warm and golden before, and to insist that it had not changed in the ways that mattered. It was still full of light. The air still smelled green.

In which Edelgard keeps a garden, Hubert learns to fly, and those they leave behind refuse to be left behind.

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

Watchtower

TLDR: platonic fic and amazing sylvain character study. Like genuinely one of the best i’ve ever read. If you’re someone who really wanted a deeper exploration of Sylvain’s feelings about Dimitri this fic is for u. 

Summary: 

When Sylvain is six and a half and climbs to the top of a tower with no one’s hand in his, he realizes that each and every one of the people he loves has been born as a gift to something else. Dimitri was born for Faerghus, and Felix was born for Dimitri. Glenn was born for the royal family, and Ingrid was born for Galatea and for Glenn. He realizes, too, that what they’re for decides their future. Dimitri will lead them into a better world. Felix will guide his path, and Glenn will protect his life, and Ingrid will bind her future to theirs.

And Sylvain, who was born for the border, will stand in a watchtower. He will see the enemy before it comes, and he will keep Dimitri and Felix and Ingrid and Glenn safe.

Dimitri reappears after five years. Sylvain knows it's his role to fix the mess they're in, but he doesn't know how.

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

little light

TLDR: really good exploration of flayn and seteth’s relationship (+ with his wife and flayn’s mother) pre canon (also post canon if i remember right) just a really good if heartbreaking family fic 

Summary: 

"She is beautiful, and she is perfect. It is foolish to say so, because the goddess herself says perfect beings cannot exist - but Cichol knows now she must have been wrong, because his daughter is perfect. They name her Cethleann. In the old tongue, it means 'light.'"

Cichol, Cethleann, what they lost, and who they became.

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

conjure the wind, ease my mind

TLDR: this author in general writes FANTASTIC work so pls check out their whole repertoire. a platonic fic between holst and claude w an exploration of claude’s past that’s just so good....found brotherhood i am WEEPING 

Summary: 

“I’d like to know what’s wrong. I’d like to help if I can.”

Calculating green eyes lock onto Holst’s own, but this time they’re laced with something a little bit like resignation

Many people call Duke Riegan a liar, but Holst feels like he knows the young man a bit better than that. To call him a liar is wrong, you see, because all Claude has ever really done is master the art of giving up as little of the truth as possible. He keeps truth close, treats it like a valuable commodity.

“I have three brothers,” he says. “Half-brothers.”

***

Claude won’t spar with Holst and Holst wants to know why.

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

my fellow passerine

TLDR: same author as before and just...god this fic is so good. a platonic exploration of the relationship between Claude and Cyril. This fic has it all: found brotherhood, worldbuilding about Almyra, Claude character study, CYRIL character study. it’s just fantastic 

Summary:

Then the Alliance delegation shows up, and their offering strolls through the gates of the monastery like he already owns the place.

A reminder, for those who need it: Cyril is not an idiot. He has good eyes and he uses them.

An observation, for those who want it: The Golden Deer house leader is Almyran.

~

Cyril knows a lot more than he lets on, Claude is far less covert than he thinks he is, and messing with the guy your parents told you was a possibly-unkillable demon-prince isn’t usually supposed to earn you a lasting friendship but hey… life is already pretty damn weird.

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

Autotomy

TLDR: god this ferdibert fic just fucking...destroys me. i cannot get through it without crying at least twice and usually more. it’s basically a CF canon divergence with a heavy HEAVY exploration of ferdinand and hubert’s perspectives towards usefulness and how abelist thinking affects that in their efforts to find Shambala after Ferdinand loses his sight from one of Hubert’s experimental spells. All while falling in love. this fic is VERY fucking heavy, please mind the tags, it’s amazing but it’s subject matter is something you need to be very aware of. Also i would highly reccomend reading the prequel to this fic as it provides some critical context to Hubert’s actions that you don’t get through Ferdinand’s flawed pov. Basically this author is a master of character perspective.

Summary: 

Ferdinand von Aegir's war record ends in 1182. The war does not.

Or, blind man's bluff.

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

Coming of Age

TLDR: same author as before and god...just my FAVOURITE ferdinand character study. Takes place within the period Byleth is away. I don’t want to spoil anything but it’s incredible. Mines the fantastic character drama hook between Edelgard and Ferdinand that canon DIDNT rip

Summary: 

Ferdinand was a general. In theory. Edelgard had promised him continued command of his battalion, and a general needed a certain measure of wealth to supply his horses, his servants, his armor and rations and lodgings and, she’d promised.

But his father sat rotting in a cell, or worse, and it could be nothing more than a fable they thought him simple enough to believe. What did promises matter?

When the house of Aegir collapses around him, Ferdinand struggles to forge a path forward. He quickly discovers he can't manage it alone -- and neither, perhaps, can Edelgard.

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

Another Life

TLDR: same author AGAIN (can u tell theyre my favourite fjsdhfk). Ferdibert fic, a man loving his partner and trying to figure out the best way to support them as they silently wrestle with questions about their gender identity is something that can be so PERSONAL and make u CRY god. also dark flier hubert my beloved. 

Summary: 

Ferdinand notices things. He cannot say what he notices, precisely, because he has no one to ask, and if he were to ask Hubert it would damn well result in every questioned moment up and vanishing forever behind a new wall of prickly austerity. Ferdinand cannot risk that. The things that he notices stick in his chest, and he thinks only, but.

Hubert wrestles with unasked questions; Ferdinand wrestles with a pegasus.

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

Beneath the Sheets of Paper Lies My Truth

TLDR: Dimilix fic in my FAVOURITE fucking format of secondary in game historical sources exploring their relationship in retrospective.

Summary:

It was said that Duke Fraldarius’s grief at King Dimitri’s death was more potent than even the queen’s—but said by whom, and how, and why?

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

A Fair Day’s Work

TLDR: Post CF Canon ferdibert where Hubert and Ferdinand’s overworked aides desperately try to get them together so they’ll be too busy being uhhhh AMOUROUS to give them so much work. Very much a romantic comedy with very fun OCs as our protags. 

Summary:

“I may have some coffee in the place for you,” said Prime Minister Aegir. “Let me show you how much better I have become at brewing it to your taste.”

“If you insist,” said Minister Vestra but he sounded pleased. To Delarivier, who had literally made it her profession to attune herself to his tone (usually ranging from sort-of-murder-y to extremely-murder-y), Minister Vestra sounded very pleased indeed.

--

Ferdinand and Hubert's long-suffering aides figure out a way to work fewer hours.

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

Roost

TLDR: Dimilix post AM Canon with some pre canon moments. Basically an exploration of the complexity of their relationship with bird symbolism and extra Holy Kingdom lore. Gifting ur lover a vulture is something that can be so personal fksdhfsjkd

Summary:

Dimitri makes an affirmative noise. Then he takes a breath, voice leveling out into what Felix had long ago dubbed his 'future king voice', all steady explanation: “Long ago, the saying fledged right along with the nobles' and royal family's love of hawking, and it has remained a common phrase from one generation to the next. As adviser to the king, the duke is meant to be regal and strong, even deadly when required, from his place at the king's side. To always act as the most piercing, watchful eyes over the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and her sovereign."

He looks over to Felix as soon as his mouth snaps shut on the final word, as always seeking approval on his recitations.

Felix tilts his head, trying to look unimpressed. “I like eagles.”

A hand automatically comes up to cover the lower half of Dimitri's face, muffling the inarticulate sound of a snort of amusement. “That is good, since you are to be mine.”

***

They say an eagle watches over Fhirdiad.

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

A faint and faraway sound

TLDR: Ferdibert with an excellent Hubert centric character study....just so good...makes me warm and fuzzy...the mutual pining and ROMANCE of it all

Summary: 

Hubert learns to be a person, with a lot of help and complication along the way.

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

In golden light

TLDR: A really REALLY good ferdibert fic with ferdinand centric pov that focuses on him reflecting on his life as he prepares the Aegir house to become a boarding school. Ferdinand sibling exploration is ABOUND here and it’s great

Summary: 

When his family's summer home at Lake Aegir is set to be converted to a boarding academy, Ferdinand pays it one last visit and contemplates his complicated relationship with family, love, and legacy.

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

one three four three four zero

TLDR: the fic that actually got me into dimilix. VERY heavy character study and you NEED to mind both the general fic tags and the content warnings the author lists for each chapter but it’s incredible. Takes a very familiar trope and just. slams you in the face with over 60k words of amazing character study. 

Summary: 

“How are you going to get the One-Eyed Demon of Garreg Mach, the Boar Prince of Faerghus, smuggled past Dukedom soldiers? What plan could you possibly have to get a creature that incapable of even pretending it isn’t a bloodthirsty beast into Dominic without getting caught?”

The Professor gives him one of their steady, unreadable stares. They definitely do not and could not possibly have answered him, “You’re going to pretend to be married to him.”

or, How to Pretend to be Married When One of You Can't Stop Hallucinating and the Other One Uses Hostility to Cope

[butwhatifidothis]

Rant, potentially me just bein’ stupid, under the cut

There are so so so many reason why CF just feels like (as someone who writes fanfiction) poorly thought out fanfiction and one of the ones that gets to me the most is CF!Claude.

So in three out of four routes, the Empire has the Great Bridge of Myrddin under their control, which is the main reason Gloucester and Ordelia are pro-Empire due to them being under the most immediate threat of Imperial attack should they not swear fealty. This makes Claude unable to make any blatant moves against the Empire due to two of the houses under his watch being both against him and under threat, and so he uses House Riegan’s power to force the Alliance into neutrality. He can’t ask the Kingdom for help due to 1) it being under chaos due to Dimitri being presumed dead and Cornelia essentially taking charge and 2) again, this being a blatant move against the Empire even if he could ask the Kingdom

Okay, makes perfect sense, these all leads into each other just fine.

In CF, the Great Bridge is under Alliance control

what.

Gloucester is still unwilling to help fight against the Empire, as shown partly by Lorenz making no appearance as an enemy unit in CF if he was unrecruited,   despite having its main reason for doing that be basically obsolete.

what.

Despite being able to take the bridge under his control and despite Dimitri being king and therefore having the Kingdom under much more stability than the other routes, Claude at no point makes any sort of alliance with the Kingdom despite the now available means and the common enemy throughout the five year timeskip. Likewise Dimitri makes no effort to team up with Claude and in fact does not react to news of his death whatsoever, making it the lord matchup where that happens (Claude reacts to Dimitri and Edelgard’s deaths, Edelgard reacts to Dimitri and Claude’s, but Dimitri only react to Edelgard’s)

what.

What kind of sense does this make? Maybe you can argue that Edelgard has less means to take over the Great Bridge due to the war against the Kingdom being more even in CF, but that doesn’t explain why Claude doesn’t take this chance to team up with the Kingdom and Church - even though he knows doing so will definitely sway Gloucester into being anti-Empire due to the Church’s influence. Maybe you can argue Claude didn’t want to team up with Rhea, but that’s assuming that Claude would rather Edelgard potentially win the war Claude didn’t plan for and which he himself says ruins his dreams over Rhea getting back in the position Claude would have had to have planned for somewhat beforehand - and on top of that, teaming up with Rhea would have almost certainly given him some major headway into negotiating shit over about Almyra. 

Edelgard is canonically weaker in CF. Her attention is not fully on the war at hand, she is barely holding a stalemate with the Kingdom and can’t even take hold of Myrddin, her forces are now known to be full on starving (as in, Ashe explicitly states this in an explore dialogue), so if Claude did literally anything to team up with Dimitri and Rhea at any point in CF - you know, that thing he at least tries to do in all the other routes (in VW/SS succeeding only with the Church, in AM full on supporting both) - Edelgard would have been fucked. But see, now Claude doesn’t trust the Church and Kingdom enough to team up with them according to the fandom - in this route only though. He’ll help Dimitri and be instrumental in finding Rhea in all the other routes! Just not here. Because he doesn’t trust them. Now. The game makes no effort to say this in the route this happens in, but trust me, it’s totally there. Claude saying that he wonders what a world without Rhea would be like in the route where he has someone he can rely on to lead Fodlan in her place completely and totally justifies him not doing anything to help the now only people he could ever rely on to lead Fodlan from having that power fall into the hands of people he deadass doesn’t trust to wield that power at all, I promise

Look, when 3H wants you to know something they’ll just tell you, especially for something as game-changing as this. Claude not teaming up with the Kingdom during the course of the war is what let Edelgard win - period. No cap. End sentence. Send tweet. Edelgard could not have been able to fight a two sided battle with her attention diverted on Byleth on top of fighting the literal rest of Fodlan. CF, as it presented itself, only can exist if Claude doesn’t do something he does in every. single. other. route. 

And that what makes it so low-tier fanfiction-y, because it doesn’t even try to explain, in a self-contained way for CF, why he doesn’t do this. It’s like if the author went “I don’t think Claude would do that so he’s not going to!” in their author’s note but makes no attempt to give a reason why they think that or try to write their fic’s plot in a way that explains how that can make sense. 

Claude going on the defensive and staying makes inherit sense in the other routes; he can’t rely on the shambling Kingdom and the scattered Church to help him take on the Empire at the start of the war, so he takes his side who is too divided to properly help itself, out of it. But in a situation where the Kingdom and the Church are around and strong while Dimitri and Rhea are still around to provide their strength? It’s almost a no brainer to team up with them to stomp down this threat before it gets anymore powerful than it is. Obviously, with Rhea being there and Dimitri not going through any of the shit he does in the other routes, and with them holding up in any way against Edelgard’s prepared forces, it would make sense for Claude to have joined the Kingdom and Church at any point after Edelgard started to lose out in strength. But oops! This is the author’s first story so they don’t quite know how to set up the scenario they want, so they just handwave it away with “Claude doesn’t like the Church” without even so much as having Claude say that himself. 

Like I said, this is someone’s AU. It accidentally got submitted instead of the actual script for CF, and IntSys is just too forgiving to new authors and doesn’t know how to give proper criticism without coming off as flaming the newbie and they let it slide. Also explains all of Edelgard’s cringey one-liners and all the character inconsistencies with the BE students

But hey, maybe I’m just full of shit lmao. Have your interpretations if you want, I just don’t buy CF!Claude’s reasoning for staying out the war during the timeskip personally

[omgkalyppso]

I can't just pick one because I'm indecisive af, so how about three for the WIP ask thing: "fairy," "wedding interrupted," and "the wind was bitter cold"? Or you can pick just one of these to elaborate on if that's too much lol

This is going to be a long ass post. Here we go!

fairy

Okay so I have an AU that I’ve promised myself not to start in earnest until either or both my soulmate au or mermaid au’s are finished. I’m calling it a fantasy au, but the doc is titled fairy because it primarily features Claude’s introduction and the make up of fantasy races for the fantasy au are as follows:

Fae - Vampire

Claude - Fairy

Hilda - Werewolf

Lorenz - Hedge Mage

Marianne - Werewolf

Ferdinand - The human child (now a man) exchanged for a fairy / changeling child

Edelgard - Human Hunter

Hubert - Human Hunter

Caspar - Human Hunter

Linhardt - Vampire

Seteth - Vampire

Rhea - Ancient Dragon

Sylvain - Human Hunter

Felix - Human Hunter

Ingrid or Mercedes - Human Hunter

Maya - Werewolf

Raphael - Werewolf

Ignatz - Werewolf

The hunters will be working in groups of three, and I can’t decide whether Sylvain + Felix + Ingrid as three of the Faerghus four is more interesting than Sylvain + Felix + Mercedes in the role of a cleric for the sake of monster hunting. I’m also undecided about whether and how to incorporate Dimitri as some wild thing that-maybe-killed-Glenn, but I feel more strongly about not including him to focus on the core plot in my outline.

Have an excerpt of blocked dialogue. Marianne is running from hunters and to keep her from being tracked, Hilda and Lorenz are destroying her shoes.

Lorenz: We do have a cobbler in town but whether they'll have something for your feet, I just don't - no!

Hilda: (coming back in the house, letting in each a white and black cat) What?

Lorenz: Hilda! Only the black cat is mine. Maggie.

Hilda: What's the big deal? (the white cat walks behind a couch or chair or something and comes out the other side as a white dove) Oh.

Lorenz: Yes. Oh. (white dove turns into a large moth, turns into tiny little fairy fey!Claude)

Claude: Wow, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get in here. (Lorenz tries to catch him) Hey! Careful.

Lorenz: Sorry?

Claude: It's fine. (Hilda does grab him) Oh. You're fast. (but he just poofs from her hand) Not that it matters.

Hilda: I'm so sorry Lorenz.

Claude: Lorenz! I almost didn't recognize you without the sun on your skin. Why's it so dark in here? (a knock at the door)

Lorenz: (to Claude) Hide. (who does)

Hilda: Seteth, hi.

Seteth: Whatever it is you're doing in here, you're not half as subtle as you think you are. There are hunters going door to door, and if that shock of blue hair is unusual to me, it will surely stand out to them. Hide your friend more securely. They will be here within the hour. I'm off to warn Linhardt.

wedding interrupted

The final chapter of my fic Lorenz and Hilda’s Paired Ending might end up stretched out to three chapters because as it stands I’m bullying them. I intend to interrupt their wedding night three times. The first two times with accidents / incidents relating to Sylvain.

the first time lorenz and hilda are interrupted his shirts are hanging open, hilda's fully dressed, they've basically been making out. cue knock at the door hilda: (distressed) Are you going to answer that? lorenz: I told them not to disturb me except for fire, kidnapping, or a declaration of war. (buttoning up, haphazardly before answering) Yes? chief of staff: There's been a small fire in the stables. lorenz: What? chief of staff: All steeds are fine, and are being round up by [servant] on his wyvern. We're going to move them to the barns on the eastern farmstead. lorenz: Was it arson? chief of staff: It appears to be ... incompetence. lorenz: Was anyone hurt? chief of staff: Not seriously. lorenz: (holding his forehead) Who was hurt, and in what way was it not serious? chief of staff: Margrave Gautier, your grace. Although he was uninjured by the fire, he took a rather nasty tumble from the roof of the tack house. lorenz: That's two stories up. chief of staff: It is. He landed in a rather soft pile of snow however, and is being treated in his rooms. lorenz: (exasperated) What was he doing up there? Was anyone else involved? chief of staff: His ... Beg pardon. Duke Fraldarius was ... present. One can only speculate what led them there, and what stole the Margrave's pants. lorenz: Ah. Well handled. (a pause) He's fine? chief of staff: He's fine. lorenz: Then I will deal with this on the morrow. Thank you for telling me. chief of staff: (as like a goodbye) Your Grace.

A break for you.

another knock at the door, lorenz is undressed, hilda is still fully dressed. things were Busy hilda: Don't answer that! lorenz: (desperate, plaintive) Your family is under my roof, I need to appear responsible. hilda: Bring up my family again and see how far that gets you. lorenz puts on a housecoat, goes to speak with his staff. i didn't bother blocking out this dialogue though it would likely be included lorenz: Hilda, I'm headed off for a few minutes. (starts pulling on pants at the least - not his dress pants) hilda: What? Why? lorenz: Your brother might be holding Sylvain hostage. hilda: What? Goddess, let me- lorenz: Please don't. hilda: But I could easily be fully dressed much faster. lorenz: Exactly. I'm obligated to go, and if people see me in a housecoat and you fully dressed, then they will know far more about our bedroom than I could ever stomach. (calling to her from the door) Don't undress. hilda: (calling back, while lorenz has the door open) I'm letting my hair down! (i ... can't not deal with lorenz who's been obsessed with marriage for at least eight years not wanting hilda to fuck him in her wedding dress) felix: I'm so sorry, your grace. lorenz: It isn't your fault, as far as I know, and, outside of public forums, you may call me Lorenz - we have enough years together. servant: He's still in there, my lord. chief of staff: (correcting) Your grace. lorenz: It's fine. Holst? Are you in there? holst: Lorenz? They fetched you over this? lorenz: Sylvain... Are you alright? Holst, they're calling this a kidnapping. holst: What? sylvain: I'm okay. lorenz: Can someone please open the door? holst: Ah! Right! felix: (relieved, going to sylvain's bedside) Sylvain ... lorenz: (slamming the door, keeping his staff on the opposite side) Are you all out of your minds? You can't even behave for four hours? sylvain: (apologetic, pleading) Lorenz. lorenz: (angry)I swear Sylvain, you have tested my patience three times tonight. (more annoyed and kinda sad than angry) And two of these moments have pulled me from my marital bed. sylvain: Shit. (gets elbowed in the head by felix) Fuck. lorenz: (about to lose his shit) Stop this, nonsense! sylvain: I'm sorry. holst: You have my apologies as well. lorenz: (rolling his eyes) I'll offer my forgiveness in the morning, assuming you refrain from any further tomfoolery. holst: Of course. sylvain: I won't be moving. lorenz: Alright. (a sigh) I am curious to know what happened here, but I fear Hilda will bar the door if I take much longer. felix: Thank you. lorenz: You are welcome. Your grace. felix: Felix. lorenz: Felix.

Another break

((much?) later) lorenz: Now where were we? hilda: Lorenz if someone knocks on this door while you're inside me you better not fucking answer it. lorenz: I ... hilda: If you answer it, you can sleep in the hallway. lorenz: I won't answer it Hilda. I'm all yours. (they fuck, and like, catch their breath and whatever) hilda: Mmmm, well now I'm undressing. lorenz: Good. Because I need to feel your body now. Let me help you. when they're both actually naked. we'll get the third knock on the door hilda: Lorenz, I swear to Seiros. lorenz: I ... I'm not inside you. (goes to get his housecoat) hilda: You cursed us! lorenz: I know, my dear. (opening the door) Please don't tell me someone's declared war. chief of staff: (amused, kind of mocking) No, your grace. lorenz: Then what (internally: the fuck) is so important that it couldn't wait?

The wind was bitter cold

This is a skyrim-adjacent fic featuring my oc Oretia and esaari’s Philip. It’s meant to be a werewolf fight and confession. The title of the wip is just the first line in the document because I was lazy and knew I’d remember what it was:

The wind was bitter cold. Layers in Winterhold were key to survival, and when someone of irregular size, taller, fatter, continuously growing children, were in need of a new one, Oretia found herself as busy as if she’d been hunting to feed the masses. This was to say nothing of the leather straps and parcels that found use in fishing and construction. She found it difficult to believe that the city had been so small and conservative before her arrival so as to ration away the whole winter.

Oretia wondered what resources the Jarl had at their fingertips, if the people did complain beyond her business of an inability to weather the cold and their hardships. For the moment, at least, she found purpose in being out in the woods, despite Philip’s warnings of full moons and things in the forest.

She’d had to hold back her laughter and embarrassment, and had resolved to tell her sister to be more subtle in the southern mountains, as stories like werewolves were infecting the city below.

The moon was full, and high already, though the sun had yet to set — brightening the fallen snow to a rich golden color, as well as the shaggy coat of an unexpected guest.

Oretia stared at the injured beast with reverence and surprise, and she had to wonder if it were they that had unnerved the local populace. A great elk, albino, but for the splash of blood staining its side, trailing down a shattered leg, hobbled north towards the cliffs and the sea. The creature was magnificent, beautiful and strange to look upon, covered in the fog of its own heavy breaths, and whether it had seen her, seemed resolute in its undoubtedly final act.

This was not how Oretia had intended to spend her evening. No matter what other ‘things’ there were in the forest, wolves and mountain lions and all manner of predators would pose a very real danger if they should find her. Yet as the elk lay down by the cliffside, it felt too much like a gift, from which deity or daedra she couldn’t be sure, but there was no walking away from such a calling.

The elk’s massive chest heaved with each pained cry, its haunting song echoing off the cliffside in a melodic death rattle. As Oretia approached, she could hear horkers bay on the shore below, terrified by the commotion, scattering into the sea. A predator may have heard the call already, but she was too close now, caught in the sad gaze of a large doomed eye, and it became a matter of pride and honor. Oretia readied her blade.

[cavalierious-whim]

Felix's life is turned upside-down when Sylvain comes back after years away to hustle at his pool hall. #

Ever have an idea that's neat until it grows legs and just becomes 12k words worth of filth? Yeah, that. My google search history suffered intensely for this fic, but now I know that you can use cue stick oil as lube. You're welcome. Read here on A03 for better quality, and for wips, updates and more, follow me here on Twitter!

#

Felix runs a clean establishment which is why the red-headed idiot is the bane of his existence.

Every night, he’s there, running the action for a dime a pot. Making his victims even up before they start a new round. Regulars know that he’s hustling; he makes his targets put the money in the rack and then before they know it, he sweeps them in the last game, taking the pot for his own.

The newbies don’t stand a chance. Everyone else stays to watch the slaughter.

Felix waits before he steps in. He might run a tight ship but he can’t risk his regulars running out because he puts a stop to the usual entertainment. So, Felix watches from his corner spot on the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he scowls.

The idiot has cued up a tricky three-rail bank shot. His opponent looks confident that he’s going to win but everyone else knows better. Ingrid tries to warn the new guy; tugs on his arm to whisper into his ear. The man only smiles at her like she’s dumb, twirling a lock of her short hair around his finger.

When Ingrid smiles back, it isn’t kind.

The idiot takes his shot, the cue ball connecting with all three walls just as planned before sinking the eight like there’s a magnet in the pocket.

The newbie’s cigarette falls from his mouth, Ingrid stamps it out before it can do any lasting damage, and Felix makes his move before things get ugly.

“Sylvain,” he snaps, sliding in near the billiards table and leveling him with an unimpressed glare.

Sylvain’s already snatched up the money, thumbing through it and double-checking even though he knows it’s good. The bills never leave the table, not under his keen eye. Sylvain pauses dramatically and offers him a smarmy smile.

“Felix,” he greets in a low baritone.

“Are you done swindling my customers?”

“Hey, I’m a customer too.”

Felix scoffs. “You’re a leech and I can throw you right out.” The crowd around them is used to the theatrics of it all and begins to disperse, making themselves scarce. Ingrid hangs back for a moment and exchanges a knowing glance with Felix.

She isn’t much better than Sylvain at the end of the night, hustling her own targets in games of Cribbage before clearing the table, but she and Felix have an agreement. Felix and Sylvain don’t. Mostly because the latter is impossible to reason with.

“You won’t,” says Sylvain, back to counting his bills. “If I made this much, you easily made twice that.” He folds them before tucking them into his pocket.

Sylvain isn’t wrong. He might be a hustler, but he’s a damn good pool player, and people will spend all night in the hall just to peek at a game or two. Sylvain makes good change, but Felix takes a better cut off the booze and food he sells as a result.

It’s a win-win and it’s why he’s never actually kicked the man out despite his idle threats. Among other reasons, those far more complicated. Still, it’s the principle of the matter.

Sylvain orders a whiskey, neat, and Felix scowls. When Annie brings him a crystal tumbler, Sylvain gives her a wink. He’s barking up the wrong tree and knows it, but it’s harmless flirting that they throw between them on the regular. Annette finds it cute.

Felix finds it appalling.

Sylvain takes a sip and sets the glass aside, picking up a cue stick and rolling it between his palms. “So, it was a good night, I’m sure,” he says conversationally.

“I don’t talk shop with patrons, least of all you.”

“Here’s a reminder that I bring in money--”

“You could bring in Blaiddyd himself, and I still wouldn’t talk.”

Sylvain whistles lowly. “That’s a bit low,” he says. “Blaiddyd wouldn’t ever step foot into a place like this.”

Dimitri wouldn’t. Felix knows it, but it’s not because his pool hall is tucked into a dark corner of Fhirdiad. It’s because he and Dimitri aren’t on speaking terms and likely never will be again. The red-headed idiot doesn’t know that, can’t know that. He and Sylvain haven’t properly talked in years. Hustling in his hall is a fairly new development and it’s haunted Felix’s dreams for nearly a half-year.

Sylvain’s calling a blind-eyed bluff and Felix lets it ruffle him.

“Insufferable fool,” snaps Felix.

Sylvain shrugs as Felix rounds the table to clean it off, grabbing the wide boar-bristle brush. He sets about sweeping up the chalk marks from the felt because Sylvain’s shit at doing it.

Or, he doesn’t even bother, racking up another game without any consideration. Truly, the bane of Felix’s existence, a constant aggravation, from the way that he hustles patrons in his carefully cultivated pool hall, to that damned smirk that is more attractive than it should be.

Old habits die hard, especially when it comes to the decade-old flame still flickering in Felix’s pathetic heart.

When Sylvain leans against the table, Felix stands up, instantly high alert. When he sits his ass on the rail with his entire weight, Felix nearly has a coronary.

“Off!” he snaps, shaking the brush at Sylvain. “You’ll fuck up the balance.”

“I can fuck up a lot more than that, you know,” says Sylvain. “All you have to do is ask.”

Felix isn’t a mobster so he doesn’t murder the man. But he is a pool shark, so he does the next best thing. “You and me,” says Felix. “Later when the doors close. One-on-one, house rules.”

Sylvain regards Felix with one long, sweeping gaze across the entirety of his body, and Felix almost snarls back. But he doesn’t. Ingrid would be proud.

“I’m a front-runner,” says Sylvain, as though it makes a difference. Of course, he’s a front-runner, he’s likely the best player Felix has ever seen aside from Glenn. But Glenn’s dead and that doesn’t matter anymore.

“I’m no slouch,” says Felix.

Sylvain smiles a curling thing that spells danger. “Oh, I know. I’ve seen you shoot a rack or two.” Or two thousand. Sylvain looks at his whiskey glass, swirling it gently. “And the stakes? A dime? Two?”

“Rights to play here,” says Felix. “You lose and I get to kick you out once and for all.”

“And if I win, you never bother me about hustling again.” Felix opens his mouth and Sylvain cuts him off. “Ah-ah-ah, none of that. You and I both know that I bring in more business than this dusty old place would see without me.”

Felix hates that he’s right and he hates that he doesn’t have the guts to refute it. He swipes the brush over the table angrily. “Fine, I’ll take your damned deal.”

They don’t shake on it, but Sylvain does tip his glass in a salute. Good enough for Felix since the faith of Sylvain’s word doesn’t mean shit.

#

So the thing is, they’ve actually known each other since they were children. Ingrid and Dimitri as well; they’d grown up together during the tail-end of Prohibition, spending their afternoons with Glenn shooting pool on tilted tables with badly balanced cue sticks.

Felix was good, but Sylvain was the prodigy when it came to shooting racks, an absolute monster that no one wanted to challenge. Back then, he didn’t hustle, he just enjoyed the sport. And Felix did too, their days spent leaning over chalk-dusted felt and hand-me-down sticks.

Then Glenn died, Sylvain went pro and Felix turned bitter and angry. And everything between them stretched wide and thin, colored by wanton attraction and the fear of fucking it up.

Dimitri bought this place to relive fond memories. Abandoned it when he lost his mind for fancier clientele. Felix, unable to forget his youth no matter how he tried, stepped in to keep it from shutting down entirely.

No longer in its prime, the place struggled for years, Felix barely paying the bills and keeping it afloat.

Until Sylvain walked back in one day. It’d been five years without a word, and nearly a decade of sore, unbidden feelings. Felix wanted nothing to do with him. Didn’t want to relive those memories.

One problem, though: Sylvain can’t take a fucking hint. Felix has told him to his face that he’s unwelcome and Sylvain just shoots him that signature smirk of his, the one that’s so impossible to ignore, and pretends that nothing was ever said.

Felix never kicks him out because he lacks any resolve, something that haunts his dreams. It makes Ingrid laugh.

“So, house rules,” says Sylvain, sliding up next to him with a smooth swagger that Felix makes a point of ignoring.

“Eight-ball,” starts Felix, but Sylvain tuts.

“Where’s the fun in that? That’s a family game.” Felix doesn’t like the glint in Sylvain’s eye as he leans against the table rail. “Nine-ball. Best three out of five.”

“Nine-ball’s a tournament game,” says Felix. “I don’t do tournaments.”

“You could,” says Sylvain with a shrug. He’s right; Felix can. But he won’t.

“You know that I don’t compete.”

“Anymore,” says Sylvain, a quiet correction that turns Felix’s blood red-hot. Sylvain must see it because he raises his hands in deference. “Not the point, not the point. I’m just saying. We’re playing for a high pot so might as well make the game match.”

Felix doesn’t think that playing for his pool hall is a high pot but there isn’t a point in arguing-- Sylvain’s been bit by a competitive bug and it’s too late to stop it.

“Fine, nine-ball,” says Felix. He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at Sylvain. “Casual rules, though. Ball-in-hand--”

“Ugh.” Sylvain sounds positively offended and Felix smirks.

“And none of that fancy shit you like to pull.”

“Felix, you wound me.”

Felix levels him with an unimpressed look. “I don’t have time for it,” he says. Then he kicks Sylvain’s shin. “And off the fucking table. I won’t tell you again.”

Sylvain hops off but doesn’t apologize. “I’ll rack--”

“I’ll do it,” cuts in Felix, reaching for the triangle rack instead of the one used for nine-ball. “I don’t trust you further than I can throw you.”

Sylvain pauses, frowning the slightest bit, a tiny little crack in his carefully maintained facade. Felix nearly pauses-- nearly. Sylvain isn’t the kind to wear his heart on his sleeve. He only shows what he wants other people to see. But this here, it doesn’t seem intentional. He’s already off his game, distracted by something.

“I only meant you setting up the game,” says Felix.

“I’ve no qualms about you racking, but you know it means that I get to break.”

A calculated decision that Felix has already considered. Felix isn’t bad at getting a good spread, but Sylvain’s better at it. It’s a risky move to give him the first shot since he’ll likely sink one at the get-go, but it’s a risk Felix is willing to take.

Sylvain pulls a cue from his bag and twists it together, carefully wiping it down with a soft little cloth. Felix watches while he arranges the balls, nine in the middle. He presses his fingers against the bottom of the diamond, pushing them tight into the corner of the triangle. Not a traditional method, but Felix can get a better grip if the rack isn’t in the way of his fingers. Sylvain hasn’t noticed his stare.

Instead, he’s too busy inspecting the tip of the cue that he uses for breaking before chalking it up.

Once the balls are racked, Felix steps off to the side, showing off the table. “All yours.”

Sylvain offers him a smile, something small and genuine and for a second it’s like they’ve gone back in time. All that unwanted shit he’s tried to forget just wells right up from the depths of his heart. Felix pretends that they aren’t friends, that they were never close, that he hates Sylvain quite severely.

It isn’t true. When Sylvain left they’d been sitting awkwardly, hanging strangely in their friendship. Trying to figure out what they were together. For Felix, it’s never been something as simple as just friends.

And it never was for Sylvain either, which is why everything’s so fucked up between the two of them. Sylvain, despite whatever he feels, isn’t the type to settle down. And neither is Felix. But they’d thought about doing it, together.

Feelings can’t save shitty relationships, though, no matter how strong they are. They’re better off like this, frenemies that constantly dog each other.

Sylvain looks slick as he runs a hand through his wild auburn hair. The light above the pool table is dim and casts a shitty glow, but Sylvain looks alive as he takes his place at the south end of the table. He’s focused when he leans over, break cue held loosely in his hand. He lines up his shot, utterly focused on the task at hand, and then he brings the cue back before letting it loose.

There’s a crack as the cue ball flies across the table. The diamond scatters and balls bounce off the rails. He doesn’t sink one on the first shot which is an immediate red flag.

“You missed,” says Felix. “You did that on purpose.”

Sylvain shrugs, unconcerned as he swaps out his break cue for his regular. He chalks it up. “There isn’t any fun in running the table on the first go.”

Felix scowls. “You’re playing for keeps.”

“It’s best three out of five,” says Sylvain. “Might as well make it worth it.”

He’s a hustler through and through. Sylvain makes his bread and butter swindling poor sots out of their coin, pushing and pulling pots as he sees fit. Ingrid’s no better, but she’s already at a disadvantage. No one takes her seriously because she’s a woman, and if her goal is to take men down a notch, Felix isn’t going to be the one to tell her no.

Sylvain, however, doesn’t do it for the money, he does it for the thrill. He’s always been like that, living by the seat of his pants because it’s the only way that he feels things. Like right now. It’s the only reason he even bargained the game to begin with.

Felix only wanted a go at it, a friendly game between somewhat enemies. Sylvain was the one that put stakes on the table.

The cue that Felix uses is old and a little battered, but it’s straight and it’s got a decent weight to it. Nothing fancy, but he doesn’t need fancy, he only needs functional.

The spread on the table is good. The one-ball sits at the bottom left and the nine is at the right side pocket. The rest have enough space to get in a good table run if he plays his angles right. Felix leans over the corner of the table, lining up his shot.

Sylvain watches as Felix thinks it through. Nervousness prickles down Felix’s spine. He might play a game or two alone after the doors shut, but he’s admittedly, out of practice. Felix already knows if he mucks this shot up, Sylvain will spend the rest of the night poking fun at him.

The cue stick strikes true and Felix sinks the one-ball in the opposite side pocket. So far so good. The two is near a north corner, an easy shot. But the three is along a rail, leaving behind a tricky follow-up lie. Felix sighs and sinks the two, the cue ball kicking back to the left.

Not far enough, leaving him in a precarious position.

Sylvain whistles low and says, “Tricky, tricky. Not where I’d want to sit.”

“Shut up,” says Felix, scowling. He chalks up his cue, thinking about his next shot.

Sylvain shrugs, sipping at his drink. “I’m just saying. You’ve always been shit at putting spin on the ball.” Sylvain’s right. Felix never did practice his English much.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve played a game,” says Felix. Not since before Sylvain fucked off. He’s watched him, of course, but Felix hasn’t shot a rack around Sylvain since he came back. “Plenty of time to pick up some skill.”

“It wasn’t ever about skill, you just sucked at it even with how much you practiced.”

Felix would spend hours hitting shot after shot. He’d set up complicated lies and work out the math. He’s good with angles, and he’s decent at putting spin on the ball but it’s definitely his weak spot.

Felix doesn’t answer and Sylvain crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not trying to be rude--”

“Zip it,” cuts in Felix, shushing him. “I’m thinking.”

Sylvain’s quiet for exactly ten seconds before he says, “Lower half, middle of the ball. Put some meat behind it and it should stop dead.”

Felix ignores him on principle, hitting slightly to the right instead. The cue ball connects with the three, then banks to the side, flubbing the shot entirely.

Sylvain snickers from behind his hand, amused.

Felix knew it was a bad shot the moment his arm moved. He’s unsure why he’s so obstinate when it comes to taking Sylvain’s advice on a go. But then he sees the insufferable smirk plastered across Sylvain’s face.

Scratch that, he knows exactly why: Felix refuses to give in to his hustling.

“Should have just listened to me,” says Sylvain, getting up from the barstool and chalking up his cue.

“I’d rather sell out,” says Felix. And he would. He’d sooner leave him a good shot, sitting pretty on the table than give him any sort of satisfaction.

“Thought we were playing for keeps,” says Sylvain, repeating what Felix snarked earlier. “At least give me some satisfaction.” He leans over the table, marking up a shot at the three. He pulls the cue back once, twice, testing the wait of his aim.

“The only satisfaction you want is someone stroking your big, fat ego.”

Sylvain stops right in the middle of his shot, head cocking to the side as he shoots Felix a dangerous look. “Oh trust me, there’s something else I’d rather you stroke.”

Felix turns red in anger, hissing at the innuendo. Here it is, that unspoken thing that’s loomed between them for years. Sylvain’s always been overtly flirty with it, low whispers as he murmurs dark and dirty words into his ears. Felix refuses to be just another notch in his belt.

And it’s hard, so unbearably hard because the worst part is that Felix wouldn’t say no. Ingrid tells him that it’s stupid to hold off, that he should just get it over with and satisfy his fucking curiosity.

Felix refuses.

Sylvain bursts into laughter, shaking his head. “Man, you should’ve seen your face, Felix,” he says, setting up his shot again. He falls silent as he baits the cue ball, his practice strokes smooth like buttered perfection. Then, he takes the shot and sinks in the three, lining up for a perfect hit to the four.

And the five, and then the six. Sylvain cleans the table with little-to-no effort, calling his shots because he knows it pisses Felix off.

“Eight off the seven,” says Sylvain, grinning widely as he surveys the table. “But I’m going to bank it off this rail and nail the corner pocket instead.”

It’s an absurd trick shot and Felix tells him as such. “You’re wasting time with these superfluous tricks.”

“Sit back,” says Sylvain. “Relax. Shit Felix, this is supposed to be fun.”

Felix knew that it wasn’t going to be fun the moment he proposed it. He knew he’d be staring at Sylvain’s long and lean form, bent over the table as he figures out math and angles. Sylvain’s a smart guy, despite what people think. It’s one of the few times that the look on his face is truly genuine.

He’s more handsome now than ever before, something straight from Felix’s most vivid wet dreams. He has a love-hate relationship with those.

“Nothing about this is fun,” says Felix finally. “It’s infuriating.”

Sylvain bites the inside of his cheek in a huff, a nervous tic that he’s never been able to get rid of. “You’re the one making it so,” he says smoothly. “As I said, just relax. We’re here to play a game.”

“That I need to win if I want you good and gone.”

Sylvain pauses at that, still hanging over the table as he looks at Felix. “Is that really what you want Felix?” For once in his damn life, he sounds serious, not his usually mocking tone.

Felix doesn’t warrant the question with an answer. Instead, he just crosses his arms over his chest as he lurks in the corner near his pool cue.

Eventually, Sylvain gets tired of waiting. “Suit yourself,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Felix to hear. He lines up his ridiculous shot and takes a few practice sweeps. The moment he pulls back, Felix speaks.

“Of course I want you to piss off.”

Sylvain fucks up the shot, nearly miscuing. The cue ball lurches to the side, misses the seven entirely, and nearly sinks in the nine-ball instead. That’d be a game lost, one to Felix’s favor, which is greatly amusing.

To his credit, Sylvain doesn’t look angry, despite his swear. He looks dejected. And really, what does he expect? That he’d come back here to find everything normal? Back to the way it was? Felix is too tired for ifs, ands, and buts. He moved on years ago.

Or so Felix pretends. It’s his most practiced lie, second nature at this point.

The look, though, that shadow of sadness that falls across Sylvain’s face is gone nearly as soon as it appears. He schools it into a competitive grin instead, nodding to the table. “Well, here’s your chance,” says Sylvain, leaning onto his stool, cue resting against his thigh. “Knock me out of the game.”

Felix surveys the table. The ending lie of Sylvain’s kicked shot leaves Felix in a decent position. Just enough to smack the seven-ball in and clear the table if he can keep his mind empty. Felix looks at Sylvain again who stares right back. Easier said than done.

He sets up his shot, pulling back the cue a few times. He sinks the seven easily and with the left spin he put on the cue ball, it rolls over to the eight. The side pocket’s an easy target that leaves only the nine left.

“Think it through,” says Sylvain.

“Shut up.”

“Look, I’m just saying. The easiest shots are always the worst, especially when it’s the nine.”

True. Felix can hit a stellar shot and still fuck it up-- there are a thousand ways to lose a game of pool, almost all of them your fault. Felix knows that he should take a deep breath, sit back and think about angles and spin.

But he won’t because he’s too fucking impatient, the absolute worst quality he has.

“Nine-ball, corner pocket,” says Felix, gesturing with his cue. He forces himself to try and take his time, at least, breathing in deeply before letting it loose.

He fucks the shot up royally. Taps it a little too hard and overshoots, the cue ball sinking in right after the nine. A scratch, and the worst kind-- entirely self-inflicted because he’s far too distracted to keep his head in the game.

Felix blames it on Sylvain. Doesn’t matter what part of him-- that handsome, devilish smile of his; the way that he twirls his cue around nonchalantly; the gentle grasp he has around his crystal whiskey tumbler; the ease as he sinks in ball after ball.

It’s all the same shit as far as Felix is concerned.

“Man, you dogged it,” says Sylvain, a badly concealed smirk set across his face.

“You’re taking way too much pleasure in it.” Felix is beyond annoyed.

Sylvain’s expression changes as he raises an eyebrow. “Felix, if I wanted to take pleasure from something, it certainly wouldn’t be you losing.”

“Is that so?”

Sylvain doesn’t answer, he only stares him down, the depth of his face smoldering. And Felix stares back, frozen in place as he worries his lip between his teeth. At least after the game, he thinks. The pool hall deserves that much.

The tension between them is so thick you could cut it; the kind of joke that Ingrid would happily make were she watching their sorry asses dance around each other. Ridiculous, Felix thinks. Utterly ridiculous, how the two of them still act like teenagers who can’t keep it in their pants.

“You nearly had it,” says Sylvain finally, trying to diffuse the tightness in the air. “Next time I can show you--”

“I don’t need your pity,” says Felix suddenly.

Sylvain blinks. “An honest offer,” he says. “No pity involved.”

Felix knows there’s a catch, though. There has to be. When it comes to Sylvain, there’s always an ulterior motive.

They fall silent again for a moment that stretches a little bit too long. Staring at each other, neither willing to make the first move.

It’s Sylvain that finally does. “Rack them,” he says, pulling the balls from the pockets on his end of the table.

Felix says nothing as he sets the next rack, the nine-ball right in the center. He rolls them back and forth, pressing his fingers in between the wood and resin, ensuring a tight diamond.

“Three out of five, one to my name,” says Sylvain as he swipes some of his drink before cueing up his for his break.

It’s effortless as always, the crack of his shot deafening in the awkward quiet. He sinks two balls on the first go, the three, and the seven. Sylvain isn’t playing around this time. Felix knows he isn’t angry. He’s trying to distract himself.

And Sylvain does that by doing what he does best-- sharking pool.

He continues to clean the table in relative silence, intensely focused on the game. He gets like this when he’s thinking about things. Goes weirdly quiet as he formulates what he’s going to say next. Most think he’s inherently suave, an instinctual casanova, but that isn’t it at all.

Sylvain’s the best pretender around, carefully cultivating how others perceive him. Everything he says and does is by design.

Especially when it comes to Felix. It’s a well-practiced game to Sylvain when it comes to whatever the fuck their relationship is. Felix maintains there isn’t one, that there wasn’t ever. But it’s hard to hold to that when Sylvain’s two feet away in the pool hall, hustling right next to him every night. And Felix can’t stop looking, hasn’t ever been able to stop.

Even now.

“It’s hot in here,” says Sylvain, hooking a finger into the collar of his shirt, pulling at it slightly. It is, and a little humid too. That’s what the weather does this far south, as far away from Fhirdiad as you can get.

“You’re the one insisting on being fully clothed,” says Felix.

Sylvain’s usual fare of dress is high-class. Crisply ironed button-downs paired with a well-tailored vest. Sometimes he wears his pocket watch, sometimes it’s a pocket square. He always rolls up his sleeves though, showing off well-defined forearms. Paired with the sleeve garters, everyone can’t help but stare.

Felix included.

“Gotta look the part,” says Sylvain with a tawdry wink. “You know that.”

“You already do,” Felix huffs, “With all the money you spend on those ridiculous brand-name labels.” Because it’s always been the best of the best for Sylvain.

Sylvain responds by reaching up and pulling his tie loose, unfastening the top few buttons before pressing the collar open, showing off his collarbone. And the sheen of sweat that glistens in the shitty glow of the light hanging above the table. Felix finally looks away, settling his gaze onto the wall.

“Nine off the eight,” says Sylvain. “Corner pocket.” He doesn’t point to the corner pocket that Felix would aim for.

Sylvain leans against the table, ass on the railing, the cue behind him. Shooting backward because he’s a gluttonous prick who can’t help but show off.

“Wrong corner pocket, you dick,” says Felix, obstinate as always. Mostly because he can’t stop staring at Sylvain’s ass when he should be watching the game. Between that and Sylvain’s gleaming collarbone on display, Felix is a goner.

Sylvain’s aim is impeccable, so naturally, he sinks the nine, winning the second game. “Rack ‘em,” he says with a smirk, jumping off the table.

Felix snarls before doing as he’s asked. Sylvain keeps smirking, running a hand through his unruly hair, stretching out his neck just so. Because he knows; he’s seen Felix looking and he’s hamming it up.

“Insufferable git,” says Felix, dropping the balls into the triangle-shaped rack and shuffling them around.

“You’re the one who keeps staring.” Felix pauses, looking back at Sylvain. He knows a challenge when he hears one and Sylvain’s looking at him like he’s ready to eat him right up.

“Only because you’re utterly ridiculous,” says Felix finally. “Pompous and loud, cheating my good patrons out of their money. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

Sylvain hums at that, sipping at his whiskey. “Well, if someone’s going to, I prefer it be you.”

Felix nearly throws the rack at him but he doesn’t, hanging it neatly where it belongs under the table instead. Ingrid would be proud of his remarkable restraint. “Your break,” says Felix, turning away.

Sylvain’s already chalking up his cue. Figuring out exactly how he wants to set up his final run. “One more, my favor,” he says. “Better step up your game.”

Felix intends to, tired of this song and dance, of playing cat-and-mouse. They’ve chased after each other for years. It’s time to put an end to it. As Sylvain preps his shot, Felix switches cue sticks, pulling a second one from his bag. Pitch black with mother of pearl accents, but a tad beat up and not well-polished.

When Sylvain turns to him, he goes stock still like he’s frozen in time. Watches as Felix screws it together, brows knitted as recognition sets in.

“You kept that old thing?” asks Sylvain, quietly.

“It shoots straight. Might as well.”

Sylvain’s surprised because he gave the cue stick to Felix. Spent nearly three month’s loose change when they were young and desperately poor. Probably thought Felix chucked it the moment that he fucked off. Felix nearly did, and nearly has repeatedly over the years. Never quite gets there.

There’s one thing that Felix is really, really bad at: actually getting rid of Sylvain once and for all. It’s a complicated thing, full of complicated feelings. For better and worse. Felix and Sylvain were very nearly something all those years ago. Shared a few kisses in dark corners, wandering hands here and there.

Childhood friends to nearly-lovers, then rivals to whatever the fuck they are now.

Felix has caught Sylvain off guard, judging by his unsure expression. And for once, Felix doesn’t know what he’s thinking, can’t really tell. Sylvain just looks at him with this entirely unreadable expression.

“What?” asks Felix, a little more bite to his tone than he wants.

Sylvain doesn’t immediately answer, just rubs at his chin with his fingers. Thinking. But then he smirks, shooting Felix a rather dirty grin, and just like that everything’s back to normal again,  brushed away like chalk from the table felt.

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, swiping the cue ball from Felix’s hand and their fingers brush, Sylvain lingering. Felix is the one to pull away.

But, he can’t look away when Sylvain sets up his break, or the long lines of his frame as he leans over the table and tests the slide of his cue. Draped over the felt like he belongs here, in this dingy pool hall. Right before Felix, just like the days of old.

Felix sighs. He’s tired of longing for the past.

Sylvain’s cue makes great contact and the break spreads well. He sinks the two and four-ball and leaves a good lie for the one. Sinks that, and then the two. Leaves the three, and the five onward. Felix bites at his thumb nervously because Sylvain’s likely about to run the entire table with little effort.

He’s fucked this up.

Sylvain spares a glance at him and pauses, biting at his lip. Then he lines up his shot for the three. Should be an easy shot into the side pocket, incredibly straightforward. Until he fucks it up.  Intentionally.

“Shit,” murmurs Sylvain, “Jawed the tit.” Bounced right off the corner edge of the pocket.

Felix’s eyes narrow. Unlike before, this time it doesn’t seem like he’s giving him a chance to catch up or drag the game out. He’s left Felix with a pretty terrible lie. Whatever Sylvain’s plan is, it’s something else entirely.

Something that Felix isn’t sure he wants part of.

Which is why he doesn’t call it out. Instead, they swap sides, slowly rounding the table. Felix has been left with a shitty option for the three-ball, but still doable. He lines it up and calls his shot, takes a deep breath, and then shoots.

Sylvain watches from the stool on the opposite side, strangely quiet. The cue ball hits one rail, then the second, then connects with the three-ball, sinking it into the left corner. Felix lets out a sigh of relief and Sylvain a low whistle.

Felix makes quick work of the five and six-ball, leaving the seven in a good spot on the side pocket. He freezes, hesitating. The last time he had a shot like this, he fucked it up, leaving the table open for Sylvain to take the win.

And Felix knows that Sylvain won’t risk losing because he isn’t playing to keep hustling, he’s playing to keep Felix at his side. Even if they aren’t anything.

Anymore, Felix’s brain unhappily supplies.

“Think about it,” says Sylvain, just like before.

“I am,” says Felix irately.

“If you want, I can show you a trick. Help you sink shots like that with no issue.”

“I’d win.” It isn’t a guarantee, of course, but a high chance. The spread on the table is in Felix’s favor if he sinks this shot.

Sylvain shrugs and stands. “Fine by me,” he says. Sylvain walks around the table, running his hand along the wooden rail smoothly. Felix tracks the movement. Then Sylvain’s behind him, leaning close.

“Alright then,” he says right next to his ear. “Mind if I guide you?”

Felix nods minutely, words stuck in his throat because he lacks any conviction to say no. Sylvain reaches around him and takes the cue, carefully arranging Felix’s arms. “Loose form,” he says. “Lift your elbow just a bit, yeah, like that.”

Sylvain’s hand isn’t just warm, it practically burns through the sleeve of Felix’s shirt. “From this angle, you want the cue ball to kick left, so you’ve got to put your spin here.” Sylvain slots himself even closer, his pelvis flush with Felix’s ass. One hand on his waist, holding him there gently as he reaches even further to point to the cue ball.

The only thing that Felix can focus on Sylvain’s crotch and-- “Are you seriously hard right now?”

Sylvain freezes but he doesn’t move. “Can you blame me?” he asks simply. Like there’s nothing to it, like it’s completely normal. He doesn’t make any further movements to manhandle Felix, he just stands there nonchalantly as Felix’s gut twists at the thought of it.

Definitely not how this game is supposed to go.

“Yes,” says Felix, “I can absolutely blame you.”

A pause. Sylvain’s mouth is very close to his cheek, Felix can feel the gentle puffing of his breath against it. “Do you want me to move?” asks Sylvain, sincerely.

“No.” Felix’s answer is barely above a whisper and comes far too quickly. Sylvain’s breath hitches slightly as he shifts his stance just barely, his hardness more evident than ever before. “But at least help me finish the shot.”

“Felix--”

“You never give away your tricks,” cuts in Felix. “I’m not letting this opportunity go.”

Sylvain laughs mirthlessly but complies, guiding Felix’s cue to the proper position. “Tap it here, on the right. Not too hard, just enough to kiss it.” Felix swallows, trying not to think of the insinuating verbiage. He doesn’t want to kiss the ball, he wants to kiss Sylvain instead.

Sylvain pulls back but doesn’t move away entirely, still holding onto his waist. Felix sinks the shot and the cue ball kicks back just as it should.

Time slows, the both of them hesitating. Sylvain makes the first move. He doesn’t give Felix the chance to lean into another shot, turning him around and pressing him against the edge of the pool table.

Felix lets him, but says-- very weakly-- “We’ve got a game to finish.” He still has a cue in one hand as the other reaches up and latches onto the tie hanging loosely around Sylvain’s neck, tugging at it slightly. Teasingly, if he were the sort to tease.

Sylvain certainly takes it that way, reaching up to grip Felix’s chin lightly. “The only game I was playing wasn’t pool,” he says, thinking he’s smooth.

“I’m aware,” says Felix. “Noticed it the moment that you undid your shirt. How annoying.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

It certainly didn’t help, thinks Felix, but he’d been gone long before that. Before this night, weeks and months ago. He was gone the night Sylvain walked right back into his life.

“I’m tired of pretending,” says Felix. “Of ignoring it.” Because he is. Tired of being the last to leave work because he knows he’ll go home with Sylvain if he isn’t. Of watching from afar, itching to touch but resigning himself to stay on the other side of the room. Of Ingrid’s eye-rolling and suggestive hand gestures. It’s exhausting.

“So don’t,” says Sylvain.

Felix pulls him down and Sylvain meets his mouth eagerly. Felix is risking the balance of the pool table for this, leaning onto it fully as Sylvain presses in close, slipping a thigh between Felix’s legs.

Kissing Sylvain is like riding a bike; Felix remembers exactly how to do it. What Sylvain likes and the amount of pressure. The way their mouths slot together like it’s meant to be. Sylvain moans against his mouth, just a soft breathy sound like he can’t believe this is happening.

Maybe he can’t. Felix isn’t the type to reciprocate and he’s been fighting this for months. Not that Sylvain hasn’t tried his best to unruffle him, to get him to fall back into the ease of it.

Felix finally gives in, tumbling down that darkly lit corridor to chase that tell-tale fire that stokes slowly in his gut.

Sylvain’s lips are soft against his and he holds him too tenderly. Felix responds by yanking at the tie again and nipping at his mouth. Sylvain opens it in surprise and Felix’s tongue finds his, seeking out that wet warmth and comfort.

The sound that Sylvain makes is enough to fill Felix’s cock halfway.

They part to breathe and Felix knows he looks a mess. Flushed and breathing heavily in the hot and humid pool hall. Half-sprawled across one of his carefully balanced tables. He can’t find much care in it, his brain muddled by the sharp press of Sylvain’s body against his own.

“Shit, Felix.” Sylvain runs a thumb across the high arch of Felix’s cheekbone. Just looking at him as it slides across the seam of his mouth. Felix nips at the digit in response.

Their next kiss is a little slower, driven by Sylvain’s persistence to take his time. Felix is impatient but lets him lead, relishing in the softness of his lips. Sylvain slides a hand down his front and pulls his shirt from his pants. His fingers are cold against Felix’s skin despite the heat of the room, splaying smoothly across the planes of his stomach.

But he hesitates, nails just barely scratching at the top of Felix’s waistband.

“Touch me, you imbecile,” says Felix, demanding and needy, kicking his hips closer to drive home his point.

“Right,” says Sylvain against Felix’s lips. “Yes, okay.” He sounds even needier, something that Felix takes great pride in. Sylvain’s stopped kissing him, nose pressed into the nape of Felix’s neck instead, resting there. No doubt savoring the moment or whatever other romantic bullshit that Sylvain thinks when lost in the moment.

Felix’s only complaint is that he isn’t moving fast enough. “Sylvain,” he warns, “I’m this close to shoving you off and taking care of myself in the office.” Not his favorite option and not nearly as fun.

Sylvain pulls back, one hand gripping Felix’s chin. “You wouldn’t,” he says.

“Try me,” says Felix defiantly. Because he definitely would and Sylvain knows it.

And the way that Sylvain looks at him in response, how his gaze smolders as he smirks knowingly, makes Felix want to drown in the heat of it.

Sylvain surprises him by dropping to his knees against the hard ground, grasping Felix by the hips. Nuzzles at Felix’s crotch, where he tents his trousers. Felix lets out a soft moan, fingers finding Sylvain’s hair, scratching at his scalp.

They’d shared kisses in the past and rutted against each other fully clothed. Fevered hands grabbing at each other over rough cotton in dark corners as they roughly jerked off.

Sylvain’s hand is soft as he drags it over the front of Felix’s trousers, the touch somehow still familiar. Then he grips a little firmer, cupping him properly.

“Sylvain--”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Sylvain, fingers already pulling at his zipper instead. “Impatient as always. Just like old times.” Even with Felix egging him on, Sylvain is unbearably slow when it comes to undressing him. “I’m savoring it,” he says when Felix grunts in frustration. “You only get one first time with another.”

Felix can’t dispute that. Still. Felix moves, shimmying his trousers past his ass, letting them drop to the ground.

“That’s one way to do it, I suppose,” says Sylvain with a chuckle. Then Felix’s briefs quickly follow and he stops laughing. Sylvain’s mouth falls open as he stares, hands gripping Felix’s thighs tightly. “Felix,” he croaks, looking at him like he’s a man starving, fingers itching to touch. And do more.

Felix isn’t an angel. There’ve been others. But this is Sylvain, and Felix has never been like this with him, never given him that much.

He would’ve but it never panned out.

Sylvain leans in close, pressing a kiss at the juncture where Felix’s groin meets his thigh. Then to the base of Felix’s cock, his lips lingering there. Felix takes a deep breath, his eyes slipping closed at the sensation.

Then Sylvain swallows him down, his mouth hot and wet around his length.

“Fuck,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip on Sylvain’s hair. “Fuck.”

Sylvain moans around him as he bobs up and down his cock, tongue flat along the underside of him. Then on the upstroke, Sylvain’s tongue curls around the tip and his hand finds the part of Felix’s cock that isn’t buried in his mouth.

Felix wasn’t expecting this and he tells him as such. “You’re the kind that takes what he wants,” says Felix in a light-hearted jab. Even if this had gone another way, he wouldn’t have complained.

Sylvain pulls off to retort. “Oh, darling,” he says, pressing a sweet little kiss to the crown of his cock, “I never do anything that I don’t want to. And this? I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

“Insufferable bastard,” says Felix, but the insult dissolves into a blissed-out moan when Sylvain’s mouth finds him again, this time sucking around him properly. Felix can’t get enough of it, the tight and wet heat that engulfs his cock. The way that Sylvain works him like he’s trained his entire life for this.

Felix likes to think he has.

Sylvain’s hand moves to cup his balls, rolling them softly in the palm of his hand, and Felix nearly pulls Sylvain’s hair right from his head. He can feel the way that he smiles around his cock, the way that his laugh rumbles up from his throat. How it caresses his dick.

Felix shoves Sylvain’s face off none-too gently, his chest heaving as he tries his best not to come right then.

“Oh,” says Sylvain in surprise. Then his face melts into something amused. “Oh--”

“Shut it,” cuts in Felix. “I’m losing my patience and I didn’t want to finish in your mouth.”

“But what if I wanted you to?”

Felix blinks, the words barely registering. “What?”

“What if I wanted you to come in my mouth?” Sylvain looks up at him, eyes half-lidded and hazy with want. “What if I wanted to swallow it down?” It’s sinful, the earnest way that he says it. The way that Sylvain still cups his balls in one hand and drags lazy circles across Felix’s thigh with the other. Eagerly waiting.

Felix swallows thickly, thinking about the debauched image that fills his mind. Then he guides Sylvain back to his cock, his hands on either side of his face, thumbing at his cheekbones. Sylvain happily accepts it, tongue out and waiting before slotting his mouth around Felix’s length once more.

And he keeps going until the tip of Felix’s cock hits the back of his throat, and Sylvain’s nose is near the coarse hair at his pubic bone.

Felix is going to die, he’s pretty sure of it. Not a bad way to go, all things considered. One hand moves to grab at Sylvain’s hair tightly, the other still cupping his jaw. Sylvain’s efficient in the way that he moves, sliding up and down, tonguing expertly around him. The pressure as he sucks and laps at his cock.

“I’m--” Felix tries to warn that he won’t last much longer. “Sylvain, I’m--”

Sylvain doubles his efforts, letting go of his balls to press his fingers a little further back. Against the smooth skin there, massaging at it gently. Felix curses and spills into his mouth, doing his best to not buck against him. The tightly coiled tension has snapped and Felix does his best to come down from the high of it, but he’s nothing but a puddled mess, leaning back against the pool table. His legs shake like jelly.

When Sylvain pulls off him, he looks triumphant, swallowing Felix’s spend like it’s an expensive delicacy. Which is almost worse, the fucked-out look of it. Seeing Sylvain like this, on his knees before him, lips swollen and face ruddy in the aftermath of spectacularly sucking him off.

It’s almost enough to get Felix going again.

Felix tugs at Sylvain’s tie and he stands, leaning over him again, slotted between Felix’s open legs. Felix doesn’t care where his mouth’s been, he pulls Sylvain in for a kiss. Tastes himself as Sylvain deepens it, licking into Felix’s mouth.

Sylvain’s cock is fully hard and digging into his thigh.

“You’re wearing too much,” says Felix when he breaks the kiss.

“Going to return the favor?” asks Sylvain, his hands braced against the table rails on either side of Felix.

“No,” says Felix. “Not this time. You took too long, indulging as you did.”

“You weren’t complaining about it.”

“And I won’t.” Felix knows he’s being cheeky but Sylvain loves it, the way that he teases. Felix presses a hand to the open collar of his shirt where it’s undone, fingering Sylvain’s collarbone there.

“Irritating,” he continues. “How good you look when you show off your skin.”

“Only for you, babe,” says Sylvain.

Felix scoffs. “That, I doubt.”

Sylvain’s expression changes, softening. “No, really,” he says. “Not in a long time.” It isn’t a lie; judging by the subtle change in his demeanor, Sylvain’s sharing a rare moment of truth.

Felix stares at him for a long moment, and Sylvain stares right back. Then, Felix’s hand shifts down to Sylvain’s vest. “So, no one else has peeled this off you in a while, then.” He toys casually with a button.

“That’d be right.”

“That must’ve been annoying.” Felix undoes one button and then the rest, and Sylvain shucks the vest off faster than Felix can finish his sentence. “Knowing you.”

“I managed,” says Sylvain.

Felix hums as his hand curls into the front of Sylvain’s shirt, pulling him closer. “Must’ve put your hand through the wringer,” taunts Felix. He unbuttons the rest, pulling it from Sylvain’s trousers. Sylvain’s always looked good, but he’s downright unfair now with his trim waist and just-enough-muscle.

“A downright nightmare,” says Sylvain with a chuckle. “Damn near sprained the thing.” Then he leans close, his mouth near Felix’s ear as he whispers, “Last few months especially, with all the thinking I’ve done about you.”

Those are the words that do him in. Felix’s hands drop to Sylvain’s waist, pulling at his trouser band. His hands are steadier than expected he when unzips them. Not so much when he slips his hand in, caressing Sylvain’s cock through his underwear.

The moan Felix gets in response can set him on fire.

“You’re cruel,” says Sylvain through a punched breath.

“Not as much as you with how slow you’re being. Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Sylvain has two modes. The first is the saccharine one where he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his voice smooth as silk. The kind that makes women swoon at romantic, chivalrous ideas, toes curling in their shoes.

This is the second; the searing hot one where his smile is a devilish smirk, and everything that he whispers against Felix’s ear is dirty and salacious. “Is that what you want?” asks Sylvain, before pressing a kiss just below Felix’s chin. “Goddess knows it’s what I want, you underneath me all hot and bothered.”

Sylvain’s intoxicating in the way that he leans close to him, and the weight of his hard cock pressed against Felix’s thigh.

“You’re all talk,” says Felix, rubbing a thumb across the front of Sylvain’s briefs, relishing in the wet dampness there. The way that his cock tents against the soft cotton there, twitching slightly under Felix’s grasp.

Were he more a patient man, he’d suck Sylvain off. But Felix isn’t, so he’ll save it for another time.

“You wound me, Felix,” says Sylvain, eyes shutting as he bites at his lip.

“Certainly no action,” says Felix, fingers tugging at the waistband of his briefs, letting it snap back into place.

Sylvain groans. “Have you forgotten so quickly? How I was on my knees before you just moments ago?”

Felix’s hands still as he thinks about it. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget such a sight,” he says.

And he won’t. It’ll haunt his dreams for decades to come. Even now, Sylvain looks so delectable; his face flushed, his shirt is open in the front and showing off his pecs, and his sleeves rolled up to the arm garters, revealing perfectly toned forearms.

Felix said it before, how irritating it is; how he can’t help but stare, to drink up and memorize it so he’ll never forget. Maybe he won’t have to. Maybe this’ll be the start of something new and a little more permanent. He won’t hold his breath.

Sylvain’s unpredictable at best and despite his earlier promise that there hasn’t been anyone else, for years, it’s always been the flavor of the week when it came to his interests.

“I’m waiting,” says Felix, tugging at Sylvain’s briefs again.

“Okay,” breathes Sylvain, kicking off his pants entirely. His briefs land in a messy pile on the floor beside them. His hand finds Felix’s hip, squeezing it gently as he looks down. Felix feels the heat of his gaze deep in his gut, his cock already twitching again.

Sylvain smirks as he sees it, hand sliding over Felix’s front and then down, his fingers nestling into the hair at the base of his dick. “Gorgeous,” says Sylvain, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Felix’s neck. “But you know that.”

“Yes,” says Felix. Then pauses, huffing. “Still waiting.”

Sylvain licks a stripe up the side of his neck, then says, “Lube?”

At least he’s considerate. Felix is too impatient to even think about something like that at the moment. “What, none on you? What’s happened to your stellar reputation?” As a player who was always ready. Felix is going to tease him about it until the end of time.

“Wasn’t expecting this to happen,” says Sylvain, looking around the room.

“You practically orchestrated this.”

“Trying to seduce you isn’t the same as actually doing it.” Sylvain’s got a point there. Felix is notoriously prickly. He’d managed to ignore it the best he could for months. Until he couldn’t anymore. Sylvain’s gaze settles on something at the far end of the room. “Jackpot,” he says, pulling away from Felix.

Felix watches his backside with a burning gaze, eyes honed in Sylvain’s perfect ass. Sylvain digs through his cue stick bag before pulling out a bottle. Then, Felix narrows his eyes. “Is that your cue stick oil?”

“What?” asks Sylvain, looking incredibly dumb as he stands there mostly naked and confused. “It’ll work.”

“Sylvain, I’m not--”

“It’s linseed oil,” cuts in Sylvain, “and it’s very good for--” Felix bursts into laughter and Sylvain stops dead. “What now?”

Of all the things they can argue about, it’s what they’re going to use as lube. Not their sordid past, or the awkward shit between them, or hell, why Sylvain even left in the first place. But lube.

Sylvain crosses the room in record time. “I’ve broken you,” he murmurs.

Felix clears his throat and says, “Not yet.” He leans back onto the table and spreads his legs, and Sylvain’s gaze drops right to where Felix wants it. Sylvain’s throat bobs as he swallows. “But I expect you to ruin me entirely.”

“Shit,” says Sylvain, a soft little curse as he looks skyward. “I can do that.” His hands find Felix again, squeezing at his hips, running along his sides, pressing close enough that it’s hard to tell where Felix ends and Sylvain begins.

“I mean it,” says Felix. He’s never been one for dirty talk, but with Sylvain, it feels natural. He reaches out to grab the loose tie that still hangs limply around Sylvain’s neck. Felix’s other hand dips into the open shirt, smoothing over a pec. He thumbs at Sylvain’s nipple and gets a low moan in return. “Make it impossible for me to forget.

Sylvain will, Felix knows it. Can already tell by the way that Sylvain whimpers softly against his neck when Felix’s hand drops to grab his cock. Felix’s fingers finally circle around him after such a long wait. He’s hard and wanting in Felix’s hand, already wet at the tip.

“Turn around,” says Sylvain when he regains his senses. Felix responds by sliding his hand up and down instead. “Felix, move--” Felix palms the crown of Sylvain’s dick and he chokes out a sound that Felix would give his first child to hear again.

Sylvain turns him around and presses Felix’s chest down against the felt of the table. “We’re going to fuck up the table,” says Felix, teasing. He doesn’t give a shit about the table anymore, the only thing that matters is Sylvain’s hands on his ass, settling him into a more preferable position.

“Not as fucked as you will be,” says Sylvain, leaning over and whispering into his ear. “Thoroughly and extensively. Within an inch of your life.”

Terrible, terrible lines that absolutely work on Felix. “Do your worst, then,” says Felix, goading him.

Sylvain smiles against the side of Felix’s neck. Felix can imagine it, the way that Sylvain’s lips are curled dangerously. Sylvain presses a soft kiss against the skin there, directly contradictory to the way that his hands slide across his ass, massaging it gently.

“Is that a challenge?” asks Sylvain.

Felix scoffs. “Everything’s a game with you, isn’t it?”

“Not this.” Sylvain’s voice is quiet as he bites at the back of Felix’s neck. “Never this.”

Felix loves it, the way that Sylvain sprinkles in romantic shit as he touches him. “Is that a promise?”

“Yes,” says Sylvain immediately. Sincerely. Like he’s holding the world in his fingertips. One hand slides around Felix’s front, tweaking a nipple through his shirt that’s stubbornly remained on.

Felix hates how much he craves this kind of attention, those soft-spoken words of attention that he’s longed to hear, even when he was pushing them away. In the end, he’s never been able to say no to Sylvain, even if he tries. He’ll always come back.

Still, Sylvain’s insufferably slow at this, taking his damn time. Fingers skimming across Felix’s skin as he relishes the way he’s pressed into the pool table underneath him. “You’re playing lemonade,” says Felix. Stalling everything intentionally, slowing the pace of the game to a crawl. “Get on with it.”

“Yes, yes,” says Sylvain, pulling back. He spreads Felix’s ass cheeks and stares. Felix squirms under the touch, kicking his hips, trying to get the game on the road.

Sylvain slicks his fingers with the accursed cue stick oil and presses one against him. Felix’s breath hitches in anticipation, huffing slightly as Sylvain carefully circles around his entrance. When he slips the finger in, Felix moans so loudly that it’s embarrassing, practically echoing in the empty pool hall.

“Dammit, Felix,” murmurs Sylvain, working his finger in gently, pressing around inside. “Your--”

“So it’s been a while,” Felix bites out. “Fuck off.”

“No, that’s not--” Sylvain pauses, biting at his lip. “Goddess, I can’t wait to just--”

“Faster then, you idiot. I won’t break.”

Felix knows that Sylvain will still be careful, though, treating him like he’s something precious. Sylvain keeps it slower than Felix prefers, pressing in and out leisurely as he tugs slightly at his rim. Then a second finger joins the first. Felix loves the stinging pressure and the way that it makes him feel alive. It sets his blood on fire as it starts to boil, the pressure mounting deep in his gut.

Felix is hard again, cock twitching as it hangs below them.

Sylvain’s fingers move a little faster, setting a prickling pace. The way that he slips them in, the way he spreads them wide to lovingly stretch him-- Felix thrusts back against Sylvain’s hand, trying to speed up the process.

A third finger is added, Sylvain perfectly attuned to the wants and needs of Felix. Felix moans again, bites at his lip, grips tightly at the table rails below him. Sylvain’s good at what he does, prepping him so nicely.

Then his fingers stroke across his prostrate and Felix tightens up.

“Bull’s eye,” says Sylvain triumphantly.

Felix huffs, trying to seem indifferent. “Took you long enough,” he says, but his voice pitches high, crying out wantonly as Sylvain caresses him there relentlessly.

“Not yet,” says Sylvain. He slows his fingers but he doesn’t stop, moving them slowly as Felix does his best to not buck against his hand. “Don’t come until I’m inside you properly.”

“Give me some credit. It’s going to take more than your half-assed efforts.”

Sylvain’s fingers halt. Then he pulls them out entirely, leaving Felix suddenly bereft, his hole clenching around nothing.

“Half-assed,” repeats Sylvain, opening the bottle of oil once again. Felix looks back, watching as he pours it over his cock. He’s delicious looking, long and hard as Sylvain spreads the oil around with his hand. Then he’s spreading Felix’s ass again, thumbing at his loosened hole, watching with a dark and heated gaze. “I thought we weren’t playing games?”

“That was before you decided to take too long. I think I’ve already threatened you about that.”

Sylvain laughs before pulling Felix’s hips back. He nudges Felix’s entrance with the tip of his cock. “Ready?”

“A decade ago,” says Felix. It’s a double meaning, they both know it. They’ve wanted to indulge in this for far too long which is why Felix is so tired of waiting. He has to commend Sylvain on his valiant show of constraint because if it were Felix in his position, he’d have already lost.

Sylvain slides in like it’s second nature. He fills Felix up like he’s always belonged there. And maybe he has, maybe this is what Felix has been missing for so long. The heat and pleasure of what’s probably the world’s most perfect cock.

The man attached to it isn’t so bad either.

“Fuck,” says Sylvain, leaning forward once he’s fully seated, pressing his brow into the back of Felix’s neck. Waiting. Trying to ground himself. His fingers grip Felix by the hips, nearly bruising as he hangs on.

“You aren’t yet.” Felix can’t help the banter and Sylvain chuckles. Presses a kiss to his neck and then moves.

The slide of his cock is smooth. Sylvain’s lazy in the way that his length drags through Felix, a carefully maintained pace that’s just gentle enough. The kind of pace that’s wholly satisfying but not nearly enough.

It’s Felix’s turn to curse; filthy words, Sylvain’s name, anything that he can remember at the moment. He presses back, meeting Sylvain’s thrusts eagerly.

“Are you going to come like a clean shot?” asks Sylvain, his lips finding his ear, tongue licking around the shell of it. “Without me touching you? Like you’ve sunk the nine-ball without any interference.”

Felix should hate the ridiculous pool analogy on principle. He doesn’t, tightening up in response to the jargon. Felix moans at the words, biting at his lip and Sylvain smirks like he’s just won a new pot of money. Felix feels so satisfyingly full. Sylvain’s cock hits in all the right places as he moves over him. In and out. Pulls at his rim with stinging satisfaction.

Sylvain lifts Felix’s leg slightly, the angle changes and suddenly, Felix is seeing stars. Blinding white pleasure now that Sylvain’s cock has direct access to his prostate. Felix is mostly sprawled across the table now, his cock pressed into the soft felt of the table. Dribbling precome pathetically all over it.

“The table’s wet,” whispers Sylvain naughtily into his ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. Felix knows he doesn’t mean the humidity of the room and how it can fuck up a game. Sylvain reaches around to grab Felix’s cock, hand sliding along the length in time as he thrusts into him. “Felix, look at the mess you’ve made.”

“More,” says Felix, needily. He barely recognizes his own voice, too busy chasing the high that’s coursing through him. He can only focus on the thrust of Sylvain’s hips and the way that he fills him so perfectly, setting his nerves alight with every touch.

Sylvain delivers, pressing in as deep as he can go. He’s got a slick grip on Felix’s cock, fingers curled around it loosely as he jerks him. Sylvain bites at the meat of Felix’s shoulder, marking him up, and Felix moans, craving it.

“Felix, fuck.” Sylvain sounds so gone, his hips dragging against Felix in stuttering motions. He’s close, Felix can tell. And Felix is close too, the heat in his groin tightening more and more with every touch of Sylvain’s hand over his dick.

“Inside,” says Felix.

Sylvain pauses. “What?”

“I said to come inside me, you bonehead, not to stop. As in--”

“Yeah, yeah,” murmurs Sylvain. “Shit, Felix. You’ve got a way with words don’t you?” Then he lets go of his cock, leaving Felix feeling stripped of pleasure and entirely on edge. “Think you can do it? Come from just my cock?”

Felix can and he will, wholly determined. It’s perfect, Sylvain’s perfect; from the heat of his length, to the way that drags at him-- Felix can’t think of coming any other way. “Yes,” he says, his voice cracking like the word’s been punched straight from his gut. “Yes.”

Sylvain leans back, fingers digging into the meat of Felix’s waist. He doesn’t speed up, but he thrusts in hard and deep, sweeping strokes that aim to finish this off quickly.

“Look at you,” says Sylvain, “Taking me so well. Always knew that you would.” He spreads Felix’s cheeks, watching as his cock slips in, watching the way that Felix’s rim is stretched around him. Felix can imagine that satisfied smirk on his face, the kind that he gets when he’s won a pot.

Felix is the first to come, his cock just barely touching the felt of the table as Sylvain ruts into him. He tips over the edge, crying out Sylvain’s name and a litany of curses. None of them bad, all of them deserved. He feels rung out and limbless, legs shaking as he collapses onto the table.

Sylvain’s right behind, thrusting in only a few more times because he comes deep, filling him up.  The resulting sound is downright sinful, Sylvain’s moan the kind of thing that Felix dreams about every night.

Even his dreams can’t compare. Sylvain lives up to the hype, thinks Felix as he breathes heavily, awkwardly folded against the pool table. His only regret is that he’d been facing away, that he wasn’t able to see Sylvain’s face in the throes of his orgasm.

Next time.

Sylvain’s careful when he pulls out. He’s gone for only a moment before he’s back with his polishing towel, splashed with lukewarm water from the tap. He cleans Felix up with a soft touch, pausing to look at his work. Felix can feel his spend leaking out of him. Moans when Sylvain presses it back in, his thumb lolling around his hole with smug satisfaction.

“Was it an adequate ruining?” he asks Felix.

Felix shoots him a rude gesture back, too tired to say anything else. Sylvain only chuckles, finishes wiping him up, and then leans in close for a sweet kiss against Felix’s sweaty head.

“For the record, I think you ruined me more,” says Sylvain. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Felix won’t either. After a few minutes, he finds the strength to move, pulling back from the table. Then he sees the absolute mess he’s made all over the felt. Felix pinches the bridge of his nose, hissing at the idea of it.

Sylvain looks over his shoulder, wincing. “That’s, uh--”

“It’s ruined,” says Felix. “I’ll have to get it re-felted.” It’s his fault, though, not Sylvain’s. Not entirely at least. Felix was so gone he didn’t even think about it, lost entirely in their passion. Felix sees Sylvain’s expression and he reaches out, grabbing him by the shirt sleeve. “It isn’t a big deal.”

Sylvain’s flushed and sweaty, his cheeks pink and his hair mussed. Looks like he ran a marathon. Might as well have; Felix put him through the wringer. But then Sylvain smiles like he’s found the meaning of life, a wide grin that makes Felix’s heart stutter.

Felix leans back against the edge of the pool table gingerly and pulls Sylvain close. Sylvain follows, his hands immediately finding purchase on his waist. “Does this mean I’m not kicked out?” asks Sylvain quietly.

“You do bring me a lot of business,” says Felix.

“Oh, so this is all business then?”

Felix is quiet for a moment, fiddling with Sylvain’s collar. “No, it isn’t all business. It’s definitely something more.”

Sylvain cups his cheek, looking at him seriously. Felix pulls him down for a kiss, the kind where lips linger because you want them to. He doesn’t want to forget the way that Sylvain tastes.

When they part, they clean up. Felix limps about slightly, resulting in more raunchy innuendo from Sylvain. He’s never going to hear the end of it.

But Felix doesn’t want to, smiling softly when Sylvain isn’t looking.

They leave the pool hall tired and satisfied, fingers melded together as they walk hand-in-hand. Sylvain stays the night at Felix’s shitty apartment and it’s surprisingly chaste; they fall asleep fully clothed, shoved into a too-small bed, and wrapped around each other.

The next night at the pool hall is the same old bullshit.

Sylvain’s hustling Felix’s customers, stripping them of their money by winning pot after pot. Felix stands against the wall not far off, arms crossed over his chest as he watches. His expression is disgusted as usual. But his demeanor is entirely soft.

Ingrid notices. “Something happened,” she says.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” says Felix, obstinate as ever.

Ingrid levels him with a look. “You and Sylvain. Spill.”

“We played a few games last night.”

“Did you win?”

Ingrid sits on the edge of the doomed pool table. It’s covered that night and entirely off-limits. Felix isn’t sure that he’ll ever be able to look at it again, his face burning red at the mere thought of what he and Sylvain did there.

“You--” Ingrid’s mouth falls open. Then her gaze drops to the table which usually isn’t out of commission. “No,” she says. She jumps off it. “ No.”

Felix doesn’t confirm nor deny it, just sips at his well-deserved alcohol as he looks back at Sylvain. He’s dashing as ever, despite the shitty lighting, sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms. He isn’t wearing a vest this time and the collar’s undone, showing off what Felix would consider his biggest fucking weakness.

He swallows thickly and Ingrid makes a disgusted noise.

“I mean, about fucking time,” she says, “But really, Felix? Here?”

“It wasn’t planned,” he says truthfully.

Silence stretches between the two of them, relatively comfortable. Sylvain wins another pot, leaving behind an angry victim. Looks like someone’s about to go fisticuffs.

“You should go stop whatever that is,” says Ingrid.

“Yeah,” murmurs Felix, pushing away from the wall.

Back to normal, thinks Felix as he tries to talk the scorned gentleman down from punching Sylvain right across the face. Except that it isn’t. Things have shifted entirely, almost like they’ve both gone back in time, and moved forward. The start of something fresh and new.

Felix can think of worse things.

[saunteredserpent]

5, 11, 31, and 34!! 💛💛

fanfic asks 

5. What’s the fic you’re the most proud of?

Currently it’s this Sora piece I just finished writing for a friend. I got to work with a more depressed side of my boy they don’t actually let us SEE in the Kingdom Hearts games’ canon, and honestly it was absolutely incredible to be able to explore that side to him, to touch on his depression and anxiety and his doubts and fears that he keeps hidden away from his friends via his usual sunny disposition. I LOVED writing it. I really did.

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

Literally all the fics in my ao3 are kingdom hearts / sweats

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

I’ll be honest, it’s been way too long since I’ve thought of any my OCs and I don’t exactly remember the full details of any of this but basically there was an idea I’d come up with fucking ages ago for a group of five kids who all have different super powers. To sum it up, there was

Cassandra, a blind girl who could see the future (yes I took her name and powers directly inspired from a Greek mythological figure don’t @me);

Dimitri, a boy with ice powers;

Fallon, Dimitri’s sister who had the power of invisibility;

Adriana, a pyrokinetic;

and Eloise, the youngest of the five and a girl with telekinetic abilities

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of. 

This paragraph from the above mentioned Sora piece:

“ Gods forbid it at all; what if he has another anxiety attack later down the road, and it happens in front of Donald and Goofy ? He wouldn’t enjoy it, and it wouldn’t be fun. Like all his other flaws and weaknesses, it’s something he tells himself he has to hide from them both. The last time he’d had an anxiety attack, it had happened years ago back home on the Islands where his mother had made him some iced tea, wrapped him in a blanket until he’d been able to calm down, had put on one of his favorite music records with the old player his father had owned at one point, and had then sat down with him on the couch with her arm around him while the two of them had listened to his favorite songs together. That’s the problem with it, he thinks ─ that’s the difference between the idea of having an anxiety attack around his mother, and having one around Donald and Goofy; neither of them are her and even with how well the three of them have gotten to know each other by now he doesn’t feel like they’ve gotten to know him well enough to understand him to that degree. “

[palmett-hoes]

since the first step in achieving your goals is to state them aloud, here's a list of aftg fics/ au s that i'd like to write some day

- pre-canon fic from aaron's perspective spanning the twins' first meeting till they're drafted by the foxes and graduate high school. i'm increasingly enamored with aaron as a character as well as with an outside perspective of andrew's actions and i think it would be very interesting to look at the foundation on which their fraught relationship is built and first developed

- even more pre-canon fic. andrew's early life in foster care. yes, we all know about the most... gruesome things that were done to him, but i believe that there is plenty more that has affected and shaped him, especially in relation to my interpretation of andrew as an autistic poc. this would not be a happy fic.

- anastasia au. neil as anya, andrew as dimitri. possibly a plot amalgamation from both the animated movie and the stage show, with changes as i see fit. (no, neil is not the prince of russia). what i find most compelling about this au is the story of neil and andrew as childhood friends and then the angst of having andrew, as an adult, teaching an amnesiac neil how to act like a noble while being convinced that neil is an imposter. good shit

- art school/dance club au. the foxes attend the palmetto school of art at prestigious edgar allen university. they're considered the school's charity cases, and they are NOT friends. andrew is a studio arts major with a concentration in sculpture who works in the campus coffee shop in the mornings and frequents night clubs that employ pretty boys in the evenings. neil is attending college completely on his father's dime, PROVIDED he study what his father wants, despite his desire to study dance and music. going crazy without an outlet, neil takes a secret job as a go-go dancer. look. this may slightly possibly be a result of me having planned to party hardy this summer, then having my plans ruined by the virus :c

- 1950s High School au. the 1950s aesthetics fucking rock even though the 1950s fucking sucked. kinda wanna tackle both. plus, andrew already has that james dean bad boy fast car appeal

- an exploration of mary and nathan's relationship and history. i get that neil's parents are both super taboo and both really really awful people, but i have questions and i want to answer them

- neil never returns from baltimore. in order to keep his deals, permanently, andrew kills riko and tetsugi, and gets over 20 years in prison. when he gets out, he just wants to be alone, but it seems there's a ghost haunting him. this was conceived for MAXIMUM angst, no getting around it. i got the idea from a badacts fic and it has haunted me ever since

- post-canon sexuality exploration fic. i have a real passion for quality sex education and healthy experimentation, and neil very clearly didn't get the chance for either. yet at the end of the books he finds himself in a very intense sexual relationship. i just really want to give him the opportunity to find out how desire works for him and what he likes, on his own terms. i read a lot of fics where neil's desires seem to be completely dependent on andrew's initiaton, and while i do believe that andrew is the only person neil is attracted to and will ever be attracted to, i also want to explore how his sexuality manifests on its own. the vibe i'm going for is, uh, HornySweet (tm), but also with a lot of genuine eductional material. i want this is to be something that offers real information to its readers that may have been inaccessible for a lot of people, on topics like like sexual hygiene, maturbation, and sex toys in a non-fetishy way. this will be very very E rated, but like,, in a very earnest and goofy way because sex and sexuality is neat and cool but it's also not all serious perfect fucking. it's just,, a topic that deserves to be DISCUSSED

- mobster au. andrew, having never met aaron, takes a job for the moriyamas to track down a runaway asset. Neil. upon completion, they make andrew the butcher's apprentice, and pull neil back into the fold as a commodity rather than a person. lots of violence, lots of shady underground dealings, lots of plotting, lots of secrets.

i'm gonna put some more under the cut, ones that i don't feel as strong a drive towards right now or that i haven't thought as much about. if you (yes, YOU) like any of these, or are interested in any of these, or wanna hear more about any of these, or are even inspired to write something yourself by any of these please, PLEASE, say something in the notes, or send me a message, or an ask or anything. ANYTHING. i am stuck inside, all the time, and i am so, so lonely. i answer from hoob-gooblin

- princess bride au. come ON. princess bride is one of the most romantic AND most snarky movies of all time, and andreil literally invented love and devotion sooooooo it's a perfect match. "yes or no" vs "as you wish" kings of consent and communication and unconventional love declarations. also,, he may not be how I imagine andrew, but a young cary elwes in dramatic black pirate getup is DEFINITELY a valid andrew

- hozier au. sometimes,, i listen to an album, and imagine a fic that encompases the whole thing. nothing speaks louder to me than hozier's discography. (also, yes, i am gay). maybe a little bit inside llewyn davis. neil wanders through a small town and takes up some small jobs, but sings his heart out through twisted metaphors once a week in a hole in the wall bar staffed by a very short, dead eyed veteran

- prince and the pauper au. on a stealth recon mission in enemy territory, andrew encounters a local lord who happens to have his face. in a moment of desperation to save himself from arrest, andrew knocks the lord out and assumes his identity. he returns to the castle just in time for prince moriyama to arrive with a shifty-eyed, red-headed handservant in tow. lord aaron of columbia, meanwhile, wakes up on a ship manned by crown traitor and fugitive kevin day, calling him by a name he's never heard before, and then he's in the hands of the guerilla rebel forces that have been attacking the kingdom. i watched barbie princess and the pauper as a child and that movie fucking slaps

- little mermaid/beauty and the beast/bride of the rose beast/ladyhawke au. in a last ditch attempt to escape his father, neil trades his voice and his tail for legs and washes ashore on a small kingdom with horrible secrets. because he cannot speak, read or write, prince aaron employs neil to serve the monster in the catacombs, the prince's twin brother. the twins are under a curse that turns them into terrifying monsters, andrew by day and aaron by night. aaron's affliction is a secret, as is andrew's humanity. this is such a hodgepodge idea lol. did neil also have to be a mermaid for this to work? no. is he? hell yeah

- new york private school/twin swap au. aaron wins a scholarship to a prestigious school that will guarantee him a future, but then he relapses. convinced he just needs a little more time to get clean, he makes a deal with his volatile new brother, andrew, to stand in for him at the school just until he can his shit together. neil and ichirou moriyama have been raised together their entire lives, always under the knowledge that ichirou will inherit the family empire with nathaniel as his right hand. they hate the idea, but they have no way to escape, and now neil is being harassed by ichirou's bitchass estranged brother at their stupid, fancy private school. LISTEN, we as a fandom do NOT take enough advantage of the twin swap possibilities presented to us. pathetic

- post-canon fic where ichirou, realizing that the life of a mob boss is a lonely one, decides that he needs... a friend. however, because of the nature of his work, he can't just make friends with anyone, so he decides to make friends with neil. without consulting neil first. cue a lot of very weird, very awkward coffee dates where neil is convinced he's about to be disposed of, and ichirou just wants to know about his cats. the thing i like about ichirou is he’s a complete blank slate. i can make him a good guy, a bad guy, an ally, the Big Bad

- Kill Bill au. mary survives a bullet to the head and wakes up from a coma over a year later. with nothing left to lose, she sets out to single-handedly dismantle the wesninski circle. good thing she used to be its top assassin

- single dad andrew au. except look, look, stay with me here, okay, aaron is his son, and he's adopted nicky and kevin. LISTEN. STAY WITH ME. JUST THINK ABOUT IT. tbh the idea comes from my interpretation of the andrew/neil/kevin dynamic as distincly parental, then extending that interpretation to andrew's protection over the rest of his family.

- fashion au. andrew is a fashion designer and photographer who frequently works with allison reynolds. one day she brings around a short, twitchy assistant who looks like she just plucked him out of an alley. somehow, he becomes andrew's muse. i watch a lot of fashion competition shows

- ghibli. either howl's moving castle (andrew as sophie, neil as howl) or spirited away (?). maybe both idk

- legally blonde au. legally blonde is so good guys

[iturbide]

honestly reading your posts has made me think about what a post-cf fic would look like with morale, supplies and might at an all-time low and slithers being mostly unscathed with superior tech, not to mention the liklihood of rebellions breaking out across fodlan as it struggles to recover from war and that isn't even counting the potential of attacks by almyra, sreng and dagda. would any of the bleagles even survive?

oh yeah post-CF fic would be.  So rough. I mean, even assuming that the other Black Eagles kids survived, I can’t see many of them choosing to stick around once it becomes clear that Edelgard lied to their faces about what happened at Arianrhod and left them completely in the dark about a threat in their own midst.  Ferdinand would probably stick it out because he has noble ideals and truly does want the best for the people -- but even his bright optimism might well falter and flag as things get worse and worse with no end in sight for any of them.  Whatever feelings Dorothea had for Edelgard have been utterly and completely shattered, and it makes her sick to sing the ode she once wrote of the princess’ -- but she’s still an actress, so no one can tell.  Petra may not have visible shackles, but she is chained invisibly to Edelgard’s side for the sake of protecting her people.

No one is happy.  And worst of all, they can say nothing without being branded as traitors.

[[MORE]]

There’s actually a very soft Bad End AU I toy with on occasion when I need something to think about.  Basically, Byleth realized by the time the Empire attacked Derdriu that they’d irrevocably fucked up, and in a bid to give Fodlan some chance of a better future, when Edelgard chooses to kill Claude they step up to do it -- but deliver a non-fatal blow, despite how convincingly mortal it seems.  Realizing what Byleth was aiming for, Claude plays dead -- and when Hilda, distraught and despairing over her friend’s apparent death, comes charging in to avenge him, Byleth deals a similar blow to her before the Imperial Army leaves.  Believing their prince was killed, the Almyrans sneak back in under the cover of darkness, intending to bring the body home for burial...only to find Claude and Hilda both clinging to life, and their retrieval mission rapidly turns into a rescue mission as the small force gently loads them both up and rows them back to the navy waiting just out of sight.

From there they return to Almyra, where they’re laid up for quite a while in recovery.  Claude spends a lot of time talking with his parents, and when Hilda asks if she can see her brother the king of Almyra doesn’t hesitate to send Nader to the Locket to hail him.  Holst is...understandably having a rough time, to the point that he sees Nader and his small contingent of Almyran wyvern riders and tells them, effectively, “you want in? be my guest, I don’t care anymore.”  Nader, though, tells him to buck up, they’ve got a surprise for him -- and take him back to the Almyran capital where his sister is just starting to get up and about a little more often.  Hilda ends up staying in Almyra, but she and her family have lots of contact via both letters and in-person meetings at and around the Locket since Holst gladly agrees to ally with the Almyrans when they put any plans in motion.

As Edelgard continues to struggle with keeping the peace and starting her campaign against the Twisted, she decides to reach out to Almyra for an alliance, hoping that their army will be able to bolster her diminished forces so she can keep the peace and devote attention to rooting out the hidden problem.  Unfortunately for her, the Almyrans have no love at all for the Empire after what they did to their prince -- so while her messenger is treated quite well and kindly, the king and queen of Almyra send him back with a box containing a live, lethally venomous snake native solely to Almyra, and do not include an antidote.  The messenger is explicitly told and shown what’s in that box (it’s very well fed before it goes so that when it reaches its destination it’ll be alive and more than ready to snap at whoever decides to open the box), so the return message is very clear: we bear no ill will toward this person you sent your message with, but we have a very big problem with you.

By the time Claude is pretty well back on his feet, though, they start hearing some very, very interesting rumors coming through both their Sreng and Alliance channels -- namely that there’s a Blaiddyd running around.  Now, Claude’s well aware that Dimitri perished at Tailtean at Edelgard’s hands, but this isn’t something he can just let go -- so he sets out with Hilda on a covert investigation.  They end up finding the source of the rumors, too: a small group of old Kingdom loyalists and a teenage boy named Nikita who bears a striking resemblance to the last king of Faerghus.  When they’re beset by Imperials, the truth is revealed: Nika is the product of a long-ago dalliance by Dimitri’s father, after his first wife died and before he wedded Patricia -- and does, in fact, bear a Major Crest of Blaiddyd; he was secreted out of Fhirdiad well before the battle at Tailtean for his own protection, just in case the worst came to pass...and the Empire, understandably, doesn’t want to give the Kingdom loyalists a rallying point, so their operatives have been out hunting him down.  Claude offers them all protection in Almyra and helps to get them all across the border where they’ll be safe -- but he puts a not insignificant number of conditions on that protection, all of which are aimed toward protecting Nika, up to and including the fact that Nika will not be pushed into leadership until he reaches his majority by Almyran standards.  The Kingdom representatives have little choice but to agree, since it’s their best hope.

From there, Claude and Hilda both take on support and mentorship roles for Nika, teaching him pretty much everything he could feasibly need to know and a whole bunch else that he just wants to learn.  He picks up diplomacy, statesmanship, weapons mastery, riding (both horses and wyverns), plus strategy, several Almyran games, accessory crafting, and a little flower arrangement.  And when the night of his final mandated birthday rolls around, Claude finds him and tells him that whatever anyone says tomorrow, always remember that it’s his choice what he does.  If he wants to go back and lead the Kingdom, then he should -- but if he wants to stay here?  He should do that, instead.  And when Nika points out, hesitantly, that he’ll probably need an advisor if he goes back, Claude grins and replies that a very strong case could be made for him as an Almyran Ambassador.

Edelgard doesn’t even see it coming, really.  Almyran forces tear past the Locket and start sweeping up the resistances that have held out against the Empire since the fall of the Leicester Alliance, bolstering their forces and subduing the Imperial outposts; they cross the Valley of Torment into the northern Kingdom and reveal Nika to the people, drawing the old Kingdom loyalists out in force and pushing back hard against the Empire’s hold.  The closer the New Kingdom forces and the Almyran Alliance army get to the Empire, the more their ranks are swelled by Imperial deserters, those who hold the Seiros faith close and those who have lost any in their Empress; and in the end, with these monumental forces at her gate, Edelgard realizes that she did, in fact, succeed in uniting all of Fodlan -- but it wasn’t supposed to be against her.

[crackimagines]

New Horizons (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

(PART 1)

(Part 2) *EDIT*

THIS IS GETTING OUT OF HAND, NOW THERE ARE FOUR OF THEM

i guess this COULD be our new Isekai Quartet

----

Byleth, Megumi, and Kazuma must spearhead their group to safety after being transported to an unknown world...

...Of pure comfort and relaxation, led by talking Raccoons, apparently.

FWUM!

(Kazuma) “SHIT!”

(Byleth) “WHA-?!”

(Megumi) “AAAH!”

After everyone landed around and on each other, they all slowly got up, trying to recover from the pain.

(Dimitri) “Ack, Darkness would you get off me?!”

(Kazuma) “Get the hell off me you-...Oh shit, Megumi! I didn’t know that was you, let me help you up!”

(Megumi) “T-Thank you Kazuma!”

(Aqua) “Hey, you just shoved me off!”

Byleth got up with the help of Claude and looked at who was here.

Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude seemed to be alright, though having everyone land on them first would no doubt make them sore in the morning.

Megumi appeared to be alright, though her hair was just a bit messed up.

Kazuma, Darkness, Megumin, and Aqua were all arguing about who landed on who.

It took Byleth a few moments to realize that where they were at was completely unfamiliar. 

Kazuma and Megumi were the next to notice, though they seemed to have some form of relief in their voices.

(Megumi) “An airport?”

(Kazuma) “A-Airport?...WAIT! DOES THIS MEAN WE’RE BACK HOME?!”

(Edelgard) “What’s an airport?”

(Dimitri) “I’ve never seen an area so...clean! And what are those giant contraptions outside?”

(Claude) “They look like some giant white ship!”

(Darkness) “My goodness, is that flying?”

(Megumin) “WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?!”

(Aqua) “Oh right. I forget that no one knows about Earth except us three.”

(Megumi) “Let me go ask where we are.”

She turned around but stopped to read the sign above them.

(Megumi) “Nook Inc.?”

(Aqua) “It’s in English and Spanish so...is this an American airport?”

(Kazuma) “...Wait a second, that symbol looks REALLY familiar...”

Upon closer inspection, Kazuma realized where they were.

(Kazuma) “WE’RE INSIDE A VIDEO GAME?!”

(Megumi) “A-Are we? It looks the same to me.”

Before they could discuss any further, they heard footsteps approaching from behind the counter and everyone gathered around.

(Byleth) “Are those...?”

(Timmy) “Good afternoon! We’re so excited to have you here!”

(Dimitri) “Talking raccoons?”

(Kazuma) “OH MY GOD, WE’RE IN ANIMAL CROSSING.”

(Megumi) “I...Think I heard a few of my students talk about that game before?”

(Aqua) “They look adorable!”

(Byleth) “H-Hey, let them speak!”

(Timmy) “Let us be first to congratulate you all on your wise decision to sign up for this adventure! Welcome...to the check-in counter for your Deserted Island Getaway package!”

(Kazuma) “I CANNOT FU-”

Megumi hit Kazuma before he could finish that sentence, making everyone flinch. 

The two raccoons didn’t seem to notice as she went to the front and smiled.

(Megumi) “Thank you, dears! What are your names?”

(Timmy) “I’m Timmy with Nook Inc.!”

(Tommy) “...And I’m Tommy!”

After a bit of explanation, everyone learned that they had apparently signed up to be part of an island getaway as their new homes, and that they were all the new and only residents at the moment. 

Everyone had no knowledge of this fact, yet the paperwork even referred to them by name, to the point that Megumi had her passport for verification.

(Byleth) “But...we never signed up for this!”

(Timmy) “Nervous, huh? We don’t blame you! Frankly, we’ve never been on this island Garreg before, but never fear! We’ll have your backs, so we’re in it for the long haul!”

(Megumi) “Resident Representative? W-Wait a second, am I representing our entire group?!”

(Tommy) “Indeed! No need to get cold feet, we all believe in you!”

(Kazuma) “Well, I did want to live a peaceful life but...”

(Claude) “Not what you had in mind, I’m assuming?”

(Edelgard) “ I didn’t have this situation in mind at all when I woke up...”

DING DING

Your attention please, this is a service announcement. The Chartered Flight for Nook Inc.’s Deserted Island Getaway Package is ready for boarding. Any customers waiting to board should make their way to the gate at this time.

(Timmy) “Ah, perfect timing! Come on, let’s all board the plane together.”

(Megumi) “Hah, I don’t think I’ve ever rode in a plane before...”

(Kazuma) “I hear it’s like a car just...floating, I guess.”

(Aqua) “I don’t think the others are comfortable with the idea of planes, you two.”

When they looked back, everyone was shuddering to get inside a flying tube with technology they didn’t understood. As far as the others were concerned, this was some form of black magic and advanced tech far beyond their comprehension.

(Megumi) “Oh...right.”

(Kazuma) “Sucks to be them then.”

On the flight towards the island, everyone was freaking out as the plane was taking off, seeing how far they were off the ground.

(Byleth) “THE HELL IS THIS?!”

(Claude) “N-Now, I’ve flown pretty far heights on my wyvern but!-”

(Dimitri) “THIS IS INSANITY!”

(Edelgard) “Must stay calm, must stay calm, must stay calm-”

(Darkness) “MEGUMIN, HOLD ME! I’M SO SCARED!”

(Megumin) “TOO MAGIC! IT’S TOO MUCH MAGIC!”

(Aqua) snoring

Aqua had put a sleeping mask on her as she laid back in her seat.

(Timmy) “Hah, are they first time fliers?”

(Megumi) “Um...something like that, yes!”

Megumi leaned over to Kazuma’s chair and worriedly pulled on his shirt.

(Kazuma) “What’s up?”

“How should we calm them down?”

“You hear them right now, Megunee? There’s no way in hell we’re calming them down...”

The plane flew steadlly towards the island as the passengers freaked the fuck out.