#and then Sylvain joins the floor pile | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chubbyheroesworthyheroes · 4 years

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This was a request I got before even getting into 3H, and I never forgot about it! Just finally got around to writing it up. Anon didn’t give another character for the prompt, so I tried to do a fun solo thing for Sylvain here. Hopefully it came out okay!

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There were many things you could call Sylvain -- and many people did, whether to his face or behind his back -- but one couldn’t really call him personally vain. Towards women he held fleeting interest in, he could be, but towards himself? Not too much. He was perfectly content with who he was, and had no trouble being himself, even if it wasn’t particularly favorable to be so in certain situations. He stayed out late most nights, chasing women and having fun, and despite his great potential, tended to shirk non-mandatory training. Put these two things together with the free food at the monastery, as well as a few students in the Blue Lions that either enjoyed to cook or practically came up with reasons to give snacks away, and it all led up to one thing…

Personal growth.

Just...not in the way most people likely thought he needed to grow.

Sylvain had always been attractive -- certainly to himself, but clearly to the fairer sex as well, considering his track record. He was above average in height, had a perfectly charming physique that was fit but not overly muscled. He was fair of face and styled his hair to have that slightly roguish look that caught certain ladies’ eyes.

To his estimations, he was a prime specimen of the male variety.

And he continued to think so, even when muscle definition started to melt away from a lack of consistent exercise and clothing became too tight due to helping Dedue out one too many times in the kitchens. It was also frequent for Felix to foist unwanted sweets on him, and even Dimitri gifted him certain foods, knowing that Sylvain enjoyed them and not wanting to “waste” them on his own compromised sense of taste.

With so many enablers around when it came to food, it was only a matter of time before weight really started to pile up. For someone with far less confidence in themselves, this would have been the point at which to change bad habits. But if there was one thing Sylvain had in spades, it was self confidence. He didn’t think anything of it. Sure, he was aware of it -- hard not to be, besides, he wasn’t a dunce! -- but nothing had really changed in his life on account of it. He still went out to have fun and pick up girls, he was still fairly able on the battlefield. Truly, the only thing that had changed in his life was that he had to constantly up the size of his wardrobe.

Examining himself in the mirror, Sylvain liked what he saw -- as always.

His face was cherubic now; round, rosy cheeks and the soft outline of a double chin. His shoulders and waist weren’t as sharp and tapered anymore; shoulders slightly rounded with padding, and his waist bulged out with a pleasantly plump roll from the love handles that had settled in there rather early on. His arms weren’t all that flabby, some definition still there to give a bit of hard substance to the chub. His chest was soft with a pair of perky moobs that were starting to give in to the pull of gravity, only just able to rest against his stomach when he was sitting down or slouching while standing. A lot of the weight he’d put on had gone to his middle, giving it a pillowy give that he’d found some girls just went absolutely nuts for -- they simply couldn’t keep their hands off, rubbing or squishing and squeezing at the girth of his gut.

Shifting around, his body jiggling lightly as he did, Sylvain smirked as he took a gander at his rear. Really, even if it had gotten him near to being stuck in some chairs recently, it was worth it to catch peoples’ attention with an ass as fat as this. It was a firm sort of fat, wobbling weightily when given a hard slap. His thighs, too, had gone sort of the same way, the pudge there bolstered by muscles from his horseback riding.

He was thick, and frankly, it was delicious.

Sylvain rubbed a palm over the chubby curve of his stomach, making a faint “oh!” sound as an idea struck him. Pacing away with an excited pep in his step, he went rummaging around in his clothes drawers for a bit. He was pretty certain he still had-- Aha! There it was! Yanking the uniform out from its shoved-in-the-back prison, Sylvain held it up for inspection for a moment before padding back to the mirror.

His old uniform.

He had long since outgrown it, but now, he was really curious to see by just how much he’d gotten larger since he’d come to the monastery.

Dropping the bundle of clothes on the floor, Sylvain figured he’d start with the shirt first. It was a bit of a struggle to get his pudgy arms through the long, white sleeves of the formal shirt, but he did manage it. It pulled tightly across his shoulders and squeezed his upper arms. It was on, but actually buttoning it up was going to be the real challenge here. He started from the top, the button near his collarbone coming together without much of a hitch; it wasn’t abhorrently tight, but it sort of constricted his breathing as he was forced to tuck his soft chin to his chest in order to look down at what his fingers were doing. He made it one and then two buttons down, his puffy chest causing the space in between the buttons to gap open and reveal plush flesh.

Grunting, Sylvain struggled with the next button. He pulled and yanked, sucking in his tummy as much as he could; the pearlescent smoothness of the button almost slipped from his fingers, but he eventually managed to slot it into its buttonhole. The fabric stretched as far as it could, a deep crease in the material cutting into the soft crest of his belly, and then -- rip, ping! -- the shirt button gave way, tearing away from the crisp fabric and rocketing to one of the corners of his room.

Sylvain let out an involuntary sigh of relief as the pressure was immediately removed from his stomach, chubby face gone a soft pink from excitement over popping a button off the shirt so easily. He reveled in the moment a bit, before taking the shirt off and tossing it to the floor, opposite the pile of yet-to-be-tried clothing.

Next would be the jacket, but as he bent to pick it up, ass slightly in the air and the weight of his belly hanging off his round frame, he had his doubts on even getting it on.

The sleeves were awfully tight, and while he squirmed and wiggled a pudgy arm through as far as he could, he gave up after not making much headway past his elbow. The jacket quickly joined its shirt brother, Sylvain giving it a mock salute before turning his attention to the trousers.

Now these...these were the big breakthrough. There wasn’t anything quite as satisfying to him than outgrowing a pair of pants. It held weight, pun possibly intended. Even back when he wasn’t as heavy, these pants were form fitting -- bordering on tight, but not uncomfortably so. Giving them a look over, Sylvain grinned, “Time to test your endurance, old friend.”

Holding them open, Sylvain daintily stepped into one leg, then -- with only some awkwardness -- plopped his other leg into the remaining one. With the black material pooled at his ankles, he made sure to get a good angle in the mirror before starting to pull the trousers up. Ankles? Cleared. Calves? Not too much resistance, until he got further down the leg of the pants, but he could still keep going without much fuss. He got the fabric up past his knees and was heading towards his thighs, and that is when he met an immediate roadblock.

He yanked and tugged, wiggled himself back and forth, trying to gain any ground. He won maybe a quarter inch before the waist of the pants slipped from his hands in another attempt to pull them higher up. The black trousers stayed exactly put, stuck on the circumference of his thighs with the waist tightly molded to the underside of his thick rear.

Sylvain almost squeaked with the pleasure of it, panting from the exertion. He couldn’t get the damned things past his thighs, let alone even try to get it up beyond the swell of his ass. He moved a hand up to grope at his chest, the other coming down to squeeze at the bulge of his middle as he watched himself in the mirror; face a bright scarlet, excitement and pleasure coiling in his lower stomach.

“Fuck, I’m hot…,” Sylvain moaned, body wobbling as he tried to quickly shimmy out of his pants enough to get a hand on his stiffening cock.

There really was no sweeter treat.

#male weight gain #male wg #chubby!sylvain

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argent-vulpine · 3 years

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...Win Lovely Prizes?

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Sylvain/F!Byleth

Read it on AO3

Claude’s missive had somehow made it through Imperial lines, crossing from Alliance territory into Faerghus. Sylvain could only assume it was Yuri’s doing; the man had the markings of an excellent spymaster even before the war had begun, it would only stand to reason that he become such over the long years of the war itself.

It seemed that Claude still intended on returning to Garreg Mach for the five-year reunion, as promised.

Some small part of Sylvain thought the man was made. He was Duke von Riegan, now, he surely had better things to do than chase after ghosts.

But another part of Sylvain wanted to believe. The professor had promised, after all. Five years was a long time. No one had found her, not even buried in rubble. But if she was alive… why hadn’t she returned? It had been better to think her dead, to grieve her in private. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he would be able to focus on the war. And with Dimitri presumed dead…

Well. That was two important people in his life who were no longer around.

He had been staying with Felix when the letter arrived; the Fraldarius heir had burst into the room, shoving the letter in his hands while holding a copy of his own, a scowl on his face (not unusual, especially these days).

“Get your things together,” the man had said, dark hair falling around his face. “If you want to make it in time, we’ll have to leave tomorrow.”

“Who says I want to?”

Felix stared at him for a long moment before stalking over, stabbing Sylvain’s shoulder with a finger. “I know you, idiot. You need this.” We need this, he very clearly didn’t say.

That, really, was what settled it more than anything. Sylvain knew that Felix had grown close to the professor, too. They’d been near-daily sparring partners, and had grown a friendship out of that, perhaps even to Felix’s surprise. He needed some sense of closure as much as Sylvain did.

The tall redhead raised his hands in surrender, giving his friend a wry grin. “Okay, fine. I’ll get packed up. We leaving at first light, then?”

“Tch. Earlier. I don’t want the old man to see us off and if we wait until light, he’ll insist on it.”

Some things never changed. “Then I’d best start getting ready and get some rest. You should, too.”

Felix had nodded once, sharply, and stepped away, pausing for a moment in the doorway as if considering something to say, before he huffed out a little sigh and left, words unspoken. They didn’t need to be, anyway. Sylvain could see the gratitude.

It wasn’t the easiest of journeys, going back to Garreg Mach. Edelgard had people all over, watching the roads and bridges, patrolling and causing trouble. They’d had to sneak past quite a few. Rumor had it that the monastery had fallen to ruin when the Church’s folk had vanished – presumably in search of Rhea who’d disappeared shortly after the professor had fallen – and bandits and looters had taken over.

As such, Sylvain had come extra prepared. He and his warhorse were armored up, the Lance of Ruin strapped down to the saddle while he carried a strengthened steel lance.

As he and Felix approached the monastery grounds, they could hear fighting already. Claude and the others? Who else had decided to make the foolish journey for a promise made before war had broken out?

Felix glanced up at him, drawing his sword, and with barely any warning the man slunk away, heading into the general direction of the fray. Sylvain nodded slightly, understanding, and adjusted his grip on his lance, spurring his horse onward.

The sounds of battle grew louder. The unmistakable cries of Leonie rang out over the abandoned town; he could see the occasional glimpse of the wings of her Pegasus as she darted through the air, a small battalion not far behind.

A large wyvern hovered overhead for a moment; Sylvain glanced up to see a smirking Claude looking a little haggard but more at ease than he’d been in a long, long time. “Glad you could join us, Gautier!” he called, nocking an arrow and letting loose on a bandit that Sylvain could hear but not see. “There’s more up ahead!”

“And just what schemes have you gotten us into this time, von Riegan?” asked the redhead, not really expecting an answer as he surged forward on his horse. They rounded a wall and came head on with a bandit; the man didn’t last long at all against Sylvain’s lance.

Steadily he fought through, catching the occasional glimpse of other former classmates: Raphael and Ignatz, the bigger man providing cover for the small archer’s sniping shots; Hilda, heavily armored on a horse as stout as his own, her axe swinging with seemingly wild abandon; Lorenz, also mounted, but he’d given up lance in favor of magic, setting bandits aflame or dropping crumbling rocks onto their heads.

And in the middle of it all…

… was the professor. Alive. Pale green hair seeming to glow in the firelight, looking as if she’d stepped through time. A little dirtier, her clothes still torn, silver blade flashing as she took down the enemy.

Somewhere behind her he could even see Marianne, protected by Lysithea and throwing out healing spells whenever an ally drew close. An enemy archer spotted them, and the professor called out something he couldn’t hear; in a flash, Marianne was gone, deposited elsewhere by Lysithea, who brought forth a powerful dark spell on the archer.

Time seemed to stutter, and then the professor was rounding on him. “Behind you, Gautier!” she cried, alerting him to the presence of a large axe mere moments before it was swinging. He yanked on the reins, drawing himself and his horse out of the way just in time, taking advantage of the bandit’s staggering step to ram the lance down.

He did not stop to see what he’d just done. War had made killers of them all, and while bandits normally might have warranted some small amount of mercy, well… he’d almost died.

Felix rejoined him, berating him for being an idiot but taking up a flanking position to protect Sylvain’s blind spot as they moved into the center. The sounds of fighting grew dimmer until there was nothing left but the quick, panting breaths of the survivors: his classmates… and one professor. An impossible woman.

“Look at that, Teach! All your Deers back together! It’s been… a long five years. We’ve got a lot to catch you up on,” Claude was saying as he landed his wyvern, hopping off in a showy dismount.

What Sylvain wanted to say would have to wait. There were more important matters to attend first.

He found her a few days later, back in the room she’d had five years ago, straightening up the scattered detritus left over by time. A broom was propped up nearby, waiting; Sylvain picked it up, using the broom handle to knock on the door frame. “Mind if I help?” he asked when she glanced up from righting her overturned desk.

She shook her head, gesturing for him to go ahead, and he slid into the room, shuffling past her so that he could start from the back.

The two worked in relative silence for a few minutes; he stopped sweeping to get a rag so he could wipe dust off the shelves, adding to the growing pile at his feet. His own room had received similar treatment, but being on the enclosed second floor, it hadn’t gathered quite as much… everything.

“You’re not going to ask?” she finally said, breaking the silence to look up at him, a deeper question in her eyes.

“We’ve all heard by now. You were asleep for five years, probably the doing of the goddess.” He’d been angry at first, thinking it a lie, but after seeing the state of her clothing, her armor, her everything, he had to admit it was the truth. She’d looked exactly as he’d seen her when she’d fallen. What other explanation could there be?

It was disconcerting, but honestly… she’d stepped out of a hole in the sky. What was one more strange occurrence that couldn’t be explained?

If anything, he was only mad at how she’d ended up in that state in the first place. If he hadn’t let her go, if he’d insisted that she retreat with him and the rest of the class… but no. He knew her well enough to know she never would have done that.

She hummed, a neutral sound, as she picked up the broken shards of her water pitcher, frowning down at the remains.

“Ah… let me check some of the other rooms for a replacement,” he said, setting down his cleaning cloth and making to step around her… but she stepped in front of him, stopping his progress. Confused, he looked down at her, his breath hitching when he caught her inscrutable stare.

There was a long silence that stretched between them. He didn’t know when she’d put the broken pottery down, but when she reached tentatively for him, he didn’t move. He didn’t dare even blink. Her hands felt so small when they gripped his arms.

He wanted to protect her. Oh, he knew she could protect herself, but… she’d been dead, as far as most were concerned. And he… and he… he cared about her…

“You got taller,” she said, shattering the quiet. “And broader.” Her lips curled into a sad smile. “I’m sorry I missed it.” Her voice had grown soft; he would have missed what she’d said if she weren’t right in front of him.

It was enough. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She hesitated a moment, as if unsure what to do, before her arms twined around his back, holding him so gently in return. They stood like that for a long minute before he finally – reluctantly – pulled away, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. “Let me… go get you that pitcher now.”

She nodded wordlessly, stepping aside so he could pass and look through the rooms of students he was sure wouldn’t be coming back.

When he brought back a second chair in addition to an unbroken pitcher, she elected not to say anything at all.

The war progressed at a faster pace with the professor’s return. After five years of stalemates and steadily losing lands to the Empire, all it had taken was her reappearance to reinvigorate the efforts of all involved. Claude’s schemes grew more and more complicated, sometimes making Sylvain as if he was running to catch up.

The professor restarted her old habits. Tea with her former students, sparring in the training grounds (no one so much as squeaked about how Felix took up most of her sparring time), fishing in the pond and feeding the cats and dogs that had slowly returned to the grounds.

Instead of classroom lessons, they met in the old cardinal’s chamber, going over tactics and strategies, working out logistics for the war. The professor took groups out to deal with skirmishes, routing bandits from the forests around the monastery, clearing demonic beasts from trade routes, dealing swift justice to pirates along the coast in order to protect supply ships.

Sylvain went with her every time.

He’d gotten injured during one such skirmish, nothing major enough for serious healing, but it stung and made sitting in the saddle a little more difficult. It was still hurting a few days later when the professor approached him about it (how had she known he’d been protecting her?) and he’d had to admit – finally – that he didn’t want her dead. (He never had, and he’d thought she was before… he certainly couldn’t see her die now.)

Even now, he still couldn’t admit to himself that somewhere along the way… he’d fallen in love with her.

She never saw him for his Crest. She saw Sylvain. Saw what he was capable of, his strength, his mind. She’d acknowledged is intelligence, his capacity for strategizing.

Yeah. He was definitely in love with her. How could he have been so stupid to think otherwise?

And she… probably wouldn’t give him the light of day.

He was healed, ready to go back into battle, and to prove it was sparring against… Felix. Of course. Well, he’d been healed, at least.

His friend was ruthless, battering down on him, pushing Sylvain back and taking advantage of the lance’s weakness whenever possible. Sylvain was breaking a sweat, but then, so was Felix, his lips twisted with scorn whenever he came too close to breaking Sylvain’s defense.

“Get your head out of your ass,” snarled the swordsman, sliding under a jab from the lance and popping up on Sylvain’s left. “I can tell you’re not really focusing.”

Wasn’t he? … ah. No. Felix swept his legs out from under him, making Sylvain land on his butt with a thwump and a cloud of dust.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” A gloved hand reached out to him, helping him stand, and then Felix was in his face, glaring him down. “Is this about…? Of course it is. Tch.” He made a disgusted sound in his throat and stepped back, motioning for Sylvain to pick up his lance. “Just tell her already. Stop moping around.”

“Tell her what, exactly? That I’m an ass? That I said a lot of shitty things to her that I didn’t really mean, and also, hey, I’m love with her?” He sounded disgusted with himself. “Why would she care about me like that? I’ve done nothing to deserve it. And besides, we’re in the middle of a war!Now probably isn’t the best time anyway…”

The soft tak of boots he was all-too familiar with sounded in the training grounds, drawing his attention away from a smirking Felix. Shit.

She was there. Watching. For how long? Judging from the look on her face… long enough.

“Fraldarius, could you give us a moment?” she asked, glancing briefly toward the man in question.

“Sure thing. Training after dinner as usual?”

“Of course,” she replied, nodding and stepping to the side so Felix could exit the chamber.

The door swung shut behind him, leaving Sylvain alone with the professor. He swallowed, heat creeping up his neck.

“Your lance, Gautier,” she said, nodding to the item at his feet.

Sheepishly, he picked it up. She gestured toward the weapon rack, indicating he should put the weapon away. He did so carefully, taking his time, steeling himself for whatever was about to come. Rejection… a lecture, perhaps?

He certainly wasn’t expecting her to be right behind him when he turned around, green eyes staring up at him, seeing into him. “Felix is right,” she said with the slightest of smirks. “You really are an idiot.”

And then… she was up, pressing her lips against his. It didn’t take him long to lean into it, to wrap his arms around her, drawing her close. Her hands came up to his head, fingers carding through his hair as she deepened the kiss, a satisfied hum in her throat.

They broke apart to breathe, Sylvain’s heart racing. He buried his nose into her hair, taking in the scent of her, the way she felt against him.

She gave out a huffing sort of laugh, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I know I’m not the best at… at showing emotions…” she said, trailing off for a moment, “… but I love you, Sylvain.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t help but press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, too… Byleth.”

Months later, when he stood in front of her, all nerves and ready to propose, he had to reflect back on how very, stupidly lucky he’d been. They’d lost people to the war, people he grieved, people he’d known, had attended the academy with. He knew that Byleth had felt all of those losses personally, all the people she couldn’t save.

But in the end, they had each other, and he promised he would see her happy for the rest of their lives together.

#sylvain jose gautier #byleth eisner #love confessions #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #golden deer #golden deer sylvain

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

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I had a terrible thought. I want to preface this by saying that I have a difficult time starting new fics when I finish one that I love, even if I’m excited to read it. After reading Metamorphosis, it was difficult to start Falling, and now I am having a similar issue with M&M. Though I enjoy it already and am rooting for the couples! This made me think of reincarnation aus. What if Indrid knew Duck’s soul in a previous life of the latter, but after losing him had to go on?

In addition, Indrid is overjoyed when he realizes he’s finally found Duck again?

Apparently, I’m in a “what if” mood? I was thinking about how Indrid views so many timelines, the way Garnet does. How you mentioned in various parts of the Falling series. What if Duck does follow the “canonical” path, right up until he’s about to leave for Brazil? Indrid living their life through visions of what could have been? BUT THEN, because I can’t stand sad endings, Duck suddenly regains his memories(via your personal choice of magical means) and....(ran out of space)

Okay, so this is wild: A week ago, I was thinking about how I’d do a soulmates/Reincarnation story, because those AUs are not my jam but I was procrastinating (side note: I too struggle to move from one story to another when I read; your brain has to finish the rinse cycle on the universe you were in before starting on the next one)

Behind the cut for angst (with a happy ending) and, perhaps obviously, mentions of death. The fics I reference (for those who spot them) do not, canonically, relate to each other like this but since we’re playing “what if?...

Indrid Cold hangs up the phone.

See you tomorrow?

Is that all he could really think of? But then again, Leo had been in danger prior to that and the whole tree mess is wrecking havoc on his mind. But then again, what could he have said.

Over a century ago, in another life, you hunted me when all my failures turned me to self interest?

Nearly a century ago, I told fortunes in dusty tents and lifted heavy things for their amusement?

As soon as I heard your voice, I knew it was you?

He shakes his head; maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Duck isn’t the man he has loved and lost twice over in his time on earth. Maybe his intuition and visions are wrong.

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

They’re not wrong. This helps him very little. Because while he remembers, Duck does not. He watches the disgust on his face at the state of the trailer, the fear when he removes his glasses.

Yes, the mess has gotten rather bad. But the first time we met was in a cave.

Please don’t be afraid of me. Please remember all the times you lay in these spindly arms, wrapped in my wings.

Please remember.

Duck saving Billy is so familiar. So like him, and when Indrid sees the argument between him and Minerva play out in the futures hes awash with pride. Stubborn and kind, not nearly as bloodthirsty as fate wishes him to be.

Strong too, if the punch is any indication.

“I’m gonna save the Mothman.”

You remember. Some part of you remembers. You thought to save me before anything.

“That’s the whole tourism industry of Point Pleasant right there.”

Well, fuck me I guess.

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He sits in the trailer for a week after the tree is destroyed. There are futures where Duck comes to apologize, to check on him, to ask for his help.

No matter how many times he plays them over, they do not materialize.

He can’t force the issue. He can’t. He can’t bring himself to go see Duck. The last time, while he never remembered, he seemed as drawn to Indrid as Indrid was to him, their loving blooming naturally as they traveled together.

Duck Newton has fought fate all his life. He’s been hounded to take up a destiny he did not want. Indrid will not be another voice yammering about fate and destiny in his ear. The man he loved, the man he could easily love again, deserves better.

He starts the trailer, and pulls away from the forest.

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

The images of the end play out, over and over, as he drives. He tries to drown them out with the timelines he cherishes that never came to be; Duck falling asleep in his arms, Duck kissing him in the snow, Duck seeking him out when everything went to hell.

“It could use some work.”

I will not allow the Quell to take you. Even if you never remember me, never love me, are never even my friend.

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

His wings ache, still sore from where something bit them during the fight. He’s staying at the Lodge while the Bago gets repaired (a Quell Rhino went straight through it). Outside he hears Duck laughing, Minivera’s booming laugh underscoring it.

I really did not see that one coming.

Duck is excited for Brazil. He is excited to be with Minerva. He is excited for his future, and Indrid would never, ever, ever take that from him.

“I do not wish to be apart from you. My life has more color, more substance, more futures in it when I am with you. I love you, and I want to stay by your side for as long as you’ll have me. You seem to feel the same about me and wish me to stay. I’m proposing a way that can be true.”

“You’re askin' me to marry you?” Indrid gives the smallest nod as confirmation. His lover turns the ring over in his fingers.

“Well?” Indrids' voice is soft, shy, unsure.

“Mr. Cold, I do believe I’ll accept your proposal.” He slips the ring onto his finger, holds up his hand and watches Indrid slump forward on the table in relief.

Two out of three meetings lead to love, that is more than he could ever dreamed of.

“Is that what you’d like? For me to carry you away?” Indrid brushes their noses together.

“So goddamn much.” The strong-man closes the half-inch between them. It’s as gentle and as tender as first kiss ought to be, their lips learning the shape of each other and teasing at the promise of more.

When Indrid pulls back, pressing their joined hands to his cheek, he whispers, “simply say the word, and it will be so.”

He can’t go back to Sylvain. What good is a seer who can’t let go of the past?

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

“Indrid? Oh, there you are buddy.” Duck grins at him, setting the box down on the small table in the trailer, “this was stuff they had to move when they were fixin’ it. Didn’t want to chuck it without lettin’ you look through it.”

“Thank you, Duck.” Indrid begins emptying the box, and Duck helps him, setting things in to neat piles.

“Are you excited for your journey?”

“Uh. Yeah, uh, hell, fuck, hell yeah.”

Indrid looks at him, worried.

“I’m havin’ second thoughts. And Minnie and I done nothin’ but fight the last three days.”

“All couples do, I am told.”

“Yeah but this, these feel like bigger fights. Things we need to hash out before we move to totally new fuckin continent.”

“Perhaps you can defer your work? That would give you time to work things out.”

“Ain’t sure that’s a--shit!” The sketchbook turns out to be a stack of loose papers, and they tumble from Duck’s hands. The ranger kneels down along with Indrid, and as they gather them up, Duck’s hands slow.

“Indrid? Why are these all of me?”

With horror, he sees the futures that did not come to pass, but that he drew anyway so he could look at them, held in Duck’s hands.

“They, ah, they were just futures. You must have been having a busy day, or, or something.”

“Hold up, they ain’t just of me. Seems like there’s a lot of us, uh, together. Really together.” Duck blushes, setting aside a page in a hurry as Indrid wills the floor to open up and swallow him.

“As I said, just futures.”

“Futures you wanted?”

“I, ah, I...”

“Wait, how old is this one? Did you so somethin funny to the paper?” Duck holds up the brown and brittle page.

“Huh. That fella looks like me if I were, I dunno, dressin up like a cowboy.”

“Sheriff.” Indrid corrects softly, “that was sheriff Jake Ellis. I man I loved many, many years ago. As far as I can surmise, he is a past life of yours. There was another in between who I, ah, I also loved. Who was also you.”

“........What the fuck?”

“A reasonable reaction. You should go.”

“Wait, Indrid, why didn’t you say nothin?”

“Would you have honestly enjoyed someone saying ��by the by, we were lovers in two of your past lives, I already feel myself growing attached to you, so please date me because this feels like fate?”

“Okay, fair point, I woulda hated that. Why not stick around then, be my friend, lemme get to know you?”

“You deserved better than my lurking in the shadows in hopes of you loving me.”

“Indrid-”

“Please leave.“ Indrid points to the door. Duck hesitates, then stands and exits the trailer, gait subdued.

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

Duck hears the sad chirring start as soon as the door shuts. He turns, heading into the woods. He needs some time to think.

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

It cant be

“Duck? Your, your flight, you missed it.” It’s been a month since he last saw the ranger.

“Yeah. And, uh, Minerva’s stayin with Leo for a bit. Had some things I wanted to sort out in Kepler before I did anythin’ else.”

“Please don’t tell me this is due to my drawings. I cannot bear the thought of you setting aside your life on the off-chance you might come to love me.”

Duck shifts side to side, “Are you at least willin to give me a chance?” He holds out his hand.

Indrid looks at the futures, but they’re too jumbled by his own indecision to be much help.

“Very well. Two months. If you still feel nothing more than friendship for me after that, please promise me you'll forget about me.”

Duck nods, takes his head, “Deal.”

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

Indrid yawns, pads into the living room still half-asleep. Waiting for him on the table is a vase of flowers and a mega-pack of fruit gushers, along with a note.

Happy six months, darlin. See you tonight.

-Love, Duck.

#Indruck #angst with a happy ending

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tsunnychan · 4 years

Text

a change of pace: eve of change

apparently being in quarantine translates to: live your undergrad dreams of being a writer instead of a doctor

it’s been four years since i graduated college. cool.

ao3 | part 1

The next few days blur together and suddenly, it’s Christmas Eve.

The rest of their friends from the Blue Lions dormitory would be arriving at Dimitri’s shortly for their Christmas party, along with a few stragglers from the Golden Deer and Black Eagles. There were so many preparations to help with, so many things she knew even Dedue would not turn away assistance for…

Yet, Ingrid couldn’t summon the energy to get out of bed.

She is decidedly awake, after years of conditioning her body to rise at six in the morning without fail, but she stays huddled in the warmth of her blankets, staring listlessly at the ceiling. She usually finds mornings peaceful, the calmness and quietness that came with the rising sun setting her mood for the day. But now, her fingers tighten around the pillow she unconsciously pulled to her in her sleep, unable to silence the buzzing in her head after several fitful nights of unrest.

While she’d been successful in pushing any intrusive thoughts away the night Sylvain returned to them from overseas, they’d always push their way back to the forefront of her mind when she was safely tucked away in her room. Alone.

The scent of cinnamon, honey, and leather, the solid weight of Sylvain’s arms wrapping around her, how she pressed her nose into his chest…

Ingrid groans and rolls over onto her stomach, kicking her feet in frustration underneath her covers. She’d never been very good at processing or reflecting on her feelings. The last time she did that… she hadn’t left her room for days. It felt far more catatonic than processing, all things considered.

And it wasn’t even until Sylvain, Sylvain¸ coaxed her out of her room. He’d sat outside her door when she ignored him. First, in silence. Then, low chatter, about the meals the she was missing out on, leaving her a plate outside before he left for the evening. Lastly, about everything. Updates on school, social gatherings… even how he’d stopped flirting with girls.

At that last one, Ingrid had swung her door open and Sylvain tumbled backward at her feet. Hair knotted and eyes narrowed, she studied his completely unabashed face smiling up at her. “I don’t believe that for one second.”

To his credit, Sylvain just smiled wider at her scratchy voice and made no move to get up from the floor. “There’s our princess.”

Brow wrinkling from his words, she looked up from her best friend’s face and saw her brothers huddled on the floor with him, dinner half-eaten on their plates, before she was ambushed in a sea of arms and cries of her name.

…and she felt a lot like crying herself.

By the time she cleared out her brothers and ushered them back to the kitchen with their plates, Sylvain had taken to leaning on the wall across the hall, small smile playing on his lips as he watched her straighten out her wrinkly t-shirt and shorts, some embarrassment catching up to her after registering how many days had truly passed.

When she finally met his gaze, he pushed off the wall and folded her into a hug so tight, she felt like crying all over again. Her arms shakily wrapped around his back and he whispered, “Are you going to be okay?”

Thoughts of Glenn flickered behind her eyes and she buried her head into Sylvain’s shoulder, nodding into the soft cotton of his shirt. “Yeah… I’ll be okay.”

Then, things went back to normal. Sylvain, fooling around, not a care in the world. Her, cleaning up his messes, wishing he would care more. Always her, always for him. No matter how many times she scolded him, or threatened him to do better, she still found herself trailing after him.

Every time.

Because he’s done the same for her, when it mattered. And despite the trouble he sticks his nose into and puts up the false pretense of acting stupid, Ingrid knows he’d drop it all to help her. Help any single one of them.

Then, he was gone for seven months, and Ingrid still can’t figure out why she feels so unsettled about it. Their friendship is as it ever was, and all those months between them hadn’t changed that.

Right?

Groaning one last time, Ingrid flings the blanket off and swings her legs off the bed, heading toward the bathroom. There were lights to hang, cookies to bake, and a tree to decorate. Lying in bed isn’t going to solve anything, so she might as well start her day.

As for Sylvain…

They still have a lot to catch up on, and they all still had to grill him for not telling any of them that he was going to Sreng with his father. And maybe that was it. He left without telling anyone, and then came back seven months later, as if nothing changed at all.

Ingrid frowns in the mirror, annoyance tingling at the tips of her fingers. Maybe nothing will change between all of them no matter how much time passes, but it still would’ve been nice to know.

Sighing, she exits her room and perks up at the smell of eggs and bacon. She follows her nose to the kitchen, smiling at the sight of a stack of waffles, a plate full of scrambled eggs, and bacon sizzling in the pan.

She chirps a quick ‘good morning’ to Dimitri and Felix sitting in the kitchen, and an extra loud ‘good morning and thank you’ to Dedue who still stood by the stove. She piles her plate sky-high with food and begins to eat, pointedly ignoring Felix’s amused scoff and Dimitri’s lighthearted chuckle. Dedue joins them shortly with another plate of bacon and slides a cup of coffee to her. She smiles her thanks, blowing the steam away before sipping carefully, staring idly at the fresh snow that had fallen over night. Sylvain is notably absent from the table, most likely sleeping off the remaining jet-lag from his trip back to Fódlan and annoyance bubbles in her chest again.

She sets her coffee down. “Does anyone know why Sylvain opted not to tell us about his trip to Sreng?”

Receiving only silence, Ingrid turns her gaze back to the three boys in the kitchen, all of them with confusion on their faces. An uneasiness creeps into her mind and the pit of her stomach starts to burn. “What? Did you all know?”

The look on Dimitri’s face changes and Dedue doesn’t meet her eyes. She feels her throat tighten. She turns to stare hard at Felix, and he stares right back. “Felix? Did you know?”

Ingrid thinks back to how unworried every single one of them was during the seven months, and she feels the burning in her stomach spread to her chest the longer they stayed quiet. Her knuckles are white from clutching her mug when Felix finally breaks the silence. “I told him to tell you. When you didn’t say or ask anything in the last seven months, I assumed he did before he left.”

Ingrid pushes back from the table abruptly storms out of the kitchen, shouldering a groggy Sylvain out of the way without pause. Completely bewildered, Sylvain stumbles into the kitchen and sits in Ingrid’s empty seat, yawning widely into his hand. “What’d you do Felix, spit in her coffee or something?”

Dimitri pinches the bridge of nose and Dedue busies himself with wrapping Ingrid’s unfinished breakfast to store in the fridge. Felix bristles and shoves his best friend roughly, hissing, “not me, idiot. You. I’m not covering you for this one.” Felix whips out of his chair and disappears down the hallway after Ingrid.

Still blinking the sleep from his eyes, Sylvain looks across the table at Dimitri, who sighed heavily. “She knows about Sreng, Sylvain.”

“What do you mean? Of course she does, I sent the picture to all of you.”

Dimitri removes his hand from his face and looks at his friend tiredly. “She knows you didn’t tell her.”

Dedue shuts the fridge with a thud and Sylvain feels his heart stop.

#sylvgrid #sylgrid #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #fe3h #fire emblem: three houses #i literally cant stop writing about them and i might as well flush them out now before i actually go insane #my writing #i have no concept of paced uploading bc i have literally never written this much in my life outside of med school apps

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pangtasias-atelier · 4 years

Note

remember your headcanon about sylvain becoming fuckbuddies w caspar? can i pls request a headcanon or drabble (whichever you pref) about what happens when they get busted by dimitri?

All smut will be tagged #risque

Took me awhile to find the headcanon sksnskns but I feel like I like/hate this. Like, the ending portion I enjoy but the middle smut portion I'm meh about. I love how it's Sylvain centric but hate how little Caspar is in it, but like Sylvain would be way more hesitant in my mind.

But anyways, hope you enjoy it!!

_______________

"Of all the," Counting to ten, Dimitri sighs. Pressing his hand to his forehead, strands of hair fall past his fingers.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Fidgeting, Ashe plays with his pudgy fingers, face refusing to meet Dimitri's.

"It's okay, Ashe. I had a suspicion myself," Leaning down, Dimitri kisses Ashe, patting his hair. "I will speak to him tomorrow,"

The two of them preparing for bed for the long day tomorrow, two of their guests are only beginning their night.

Sylvain on a visit, he is now never seen without his new favorite retainer. Caspar.

The two becoming "close" during the war, Sylvain's obsession with Caspar had only grown as time went on. So desperately wanting and enjoying Caspar's added heft, Sylvain could only think about making him fatter. Their agreement mutual, Sylvain found a better method of going about it once the war came to a close.

House Bergliez inherited by Caspar's elder brother, his own stake in the territory was paltry. Though Caspar had no real care in such a case. As such, Sylvain had offered a permanent position in House Gautier as his personal retainer. The true nature of the position only disclosed between the two of them, Caspar's stomach and dick had promptly agreed to such a job.

Caspar a perfect employee, Sylvain's own lustful needs were satisfied. Whether it was fucking Caspar, stuffing him, or both. Caspar's already fat figure by the end of the war only blimped out with nothing to do besides eat, sleep, and fuck.

Sylvain and Caspar having retired to Sylvain's room earlier, Sylvain bites his lip as he stares at Caspar's form. Having to help Caspar move by carrying one flabby wing of an arm over his shoulder, it seemed more apt to call Sylvain the personal retainer, Sylvain always waiting on Caspar and fetching him whatever he wished. Their mutual agreement seemed to exceed beyond such a thing, their time nearly spent together at all times and even performing mundane tasks.

The bed dipping into a 'V', Caspar's immense form takes up most of said bed. Huffing from exhaustion, his butler uniform clings to every roll and divot in attempts to avoid tearing. Caspar a short 5'7, his gut is nearly as wide as he is tall, the massive portly pile of lard nearly exhausting his uniform. Black overcoat dangerously stretched, the fabric appears gray at parts, the nipped midsection impossible with Caspar's gut spreading far and wide. A corset out of the question, that still didn't stop from Sylvain trying at first. But that attempt only led to both realizing it was impossible and Sylvain pouncing Caspar for the third time that day. Caspar's button up strained, the hassle from moving disheveled it, his gut poking through from under, his pale gut shimmering with light sweat. The buttons struggle to clasp all the way around his gut, diamonds forming in-between them, allowing more of Caspar's body to seep through. Caspar's pants thankfully fit all around him, Caspar more apple shaped, but the fabric is still taut, a mindless bend or two able to cause a dangerous split in the fabric. Coattails absorbed under all of Caspar's flab, the fabric only accentuates his ass whenever he stands, the two bits of fabric resting on top of his two mounds of cheeks. Caspar's face still contains remnants of dinner, specks of sauce on his puffed out cheeks, Caspar groaning and wheezing.

Sylvain unable to wait anymore, he disrobes himself promptly, rushing and almost stumbling as he does so. Removing all articles besides his boxers, Sylvain's dick pushes the fabric, the light friction making him twitch as he shuffles to Caspar.

Pressing himself up to Caspar, Sylvain wraps his arms around him as much as he can, pressing and sinking into his rising gut.

"You're so fat now," Sylvain huffs, sinking his face into Caspar's gut. He lifts up Caspar's gut, grunting as he does, and lets go, Caspar's stomach sloshing and shaking. Hands roaming about, Sylvain can't make a choice, rubbing Caspar's stomach, caressing his thighs, groping his breasts, pinching his love handles. Sylvain stares at Caspar as if staring at a meal after having not eaten for a couple days. Unable to wait any longer, Sylvain reaches under Caspar's gut. Struggling, he soon finds his prize, the waistband. Tugging down, Sylvain grins as Caspar's breathing picks up. A pair of boxers for Caspar picked out by Sylvain, he smiles as he sees them. Pink boxers with a pig's tail at the back. Getting to the side of Caspar, Sylvain gives a push, Caspar groaning.

"You're too wide to flip over now," Sylvain draws in a sharp breath. "So you have to get your fat ass up first," Slapping Caspar's gut, he helps push Caspar to be sideways. Grabbing his pudgy hands, the massive digits sausage like, Sylvain sinks into Caspar's gut from reaching so far. Pulling, both struggle, Sylvain from lifting such a blubbery man and Caspar from carrying so much blubber.

Caspar getting to his feet, he wheezes, Sylvain deftly unbuttoning and tossing his massive clothes to the side.

"So wide," Sylvain coos, standing behind Caspar, his dick frotting Caspar's entrance. Humping him, Sylvain bites down on Caspar neck, muffling at the way his fat shakes. He guides him to the bed stomach first. Wishing to shove him on the bed, but knowing that it'd break, he really doesn't wanna have to offer and explanation to the prudish Dimitri, Sylvain gently relaxes Caspar down, Caspar and the bed groaning.

Wasting no time, Sylvain tears off Caspar's boxers, removing his own at the same time. Caspar's stomach pushing him up so high, Caspar's ass is nearly perfect height, Sylvain getting onto his knees. Caspar too fat for Sylvain to position his knees around him, he moves his stomach folds, his knees like a dam. So close, Sylvain swiftly enters, his precummed dick and Caspar's cavernous hole allowing for easy access.

Huffing, Sylvain pounds into him. Eyes roaming Caspar's body, he loses it as Caspar's entire roly-poly body jostles and quivers with each hump he gives. Wanting to stare, his oncoming release lids his eyes, Sylvain panting as he easily cums. Falling over, he clings to Caspar's ass as he moans. "L-" Realizing his mistake, Sylvain fakes a cough, blushing.

Chest rising, Sylvain's exhausted form barely registers having to move Caspar again for him to sleep on his back. Spent, he whimpers as his dick begins to garden from the realization, so much more fun to be had.

By the time that lunch is done, a simple affair between Dimitri and Sylvain, Sylvain goes to rush off, never trusting Dimitri's one on one time.

"Ah, Sylvain, why don't we have a stroll. For old times sake," Already starting, Dimitri doesn't look back, Sylvain's trudging footsteps resounding behind him on the stone floor.

The two walking in silence, Sylvain keeps this gaze on the scenery, the walls and portraits more interesting. The two side by side, Dimitri leads the way, the two eventually reaching a balcony overlooking the gardens.

Sylvain's face sags, offering a glance at Dimitri. Hearing voices, Sylvain turns back to the garden. Looking around, he spots Ashe and Caspar having tea, the two talking and laughing. Ashe's paunch not as noticeable from such a distance, his bit of heft is still visible, Ashe the very before to Caspar's after.

"Why don't you marry Caspar?" Dimitri tosses out, resting his hands on the balustrade.

"Ugh, so this is what this is about?"

"You two seem to enjoy each other's company. I've heard many stories but never believed it till I saw for myself,"

"We're just," Sylvain pauses, mind struggling to figure out a word. True, his private engagements with Caspar are a wonder, but having tea together, a simple picnic, or even dealing with troublesome meetings together, having Caspar by his side…

"Forgive my meddling, but he's confided in Ashe that he very much enjoys spending time with you,"

Sylvain groans, leaning his arms and chin on the balustrade. The cool air of Faerghus is a light breeze. "I already thought about it," Sylvain mumbles, remembering the ring he had made just to hide it.

Dimitri turns to face Sylvain, eyes wide. Coughing, he smiles for him. "Then propose, if you're worried about status, you know Caspar has no concern for such a thing,"

"True,"

"When I proposed to Ashe, I-"

"I'll pass on hearing this story for the sixth time,"

"I don't- but I-," Dimitri groans, blushing into his hands.

"I hate when you meddle," Sylvain lightly punches Dimitri's arm. "But thanks," Sylvain heading off, Dimitri watches with a smile as Sylvain holds his head up high.

Staying up there and fondly watching Ashe, Dimitri spots Sylvain joining them. Going to join them himself, he murmurs. "I'm not a meddler,"

#my writing #fat!caspar #fat emblem #fat!threehouses #risque #risqué

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minttoy · 5 years

Text

Wayward (Ch 2)

CHAPTER TWO

Summary: The night at the Goddess Tower, Dimitri wished for a world in which no one would be unjustly taken away. Byleth made her wish in silence - that one day she would see him freed from his darkness.

She wakes up five years later, only to learn the world hasn’t been kind.

Missing scenes post time skip (Blue Lions route).

Pairings: Dimitri/Byleth

Genre: Romance/Angst

Click here to read on FF.net.

Click here to read on AO3.

----------

So much blood is spilt at the Bridge of Myrddin.

She has to revert back to her mercenary ways. Taking down enemies with quick and efficient swipes. Clearing paths with the judgment and tact she learned from her years suppressing bandit hideouts. Aiming for critical points – head, heart, jugular, knees, ankles, open spaces between armoured units. She feels neither proud or brave of her actions.

In the midst of chaos, her mind comes to a shrieking halt when suddenly, she realizes what she’s done and whose life she’s taken.

Damn it! A slew of curses run unfiltered across her mind.

She didn’t see him at first. Her hands moved faster than her mind. She didn’t register in time that it had been Ferdinand von Aegir on that steed, shooting her a wide-eyed look of surprise when she positioned her bow in his direction. Her eyes went to his lance instead, and when he raised it, she fired her arrow hard and it found his chest.

She realizes her error a second later, when he falls from his horse, lands hard on his back, blood spills from his front and she catches his familiar gaze. And just like that, her façade is broken and blankness gone. The world becomes muffled and then muted, and she runs to his limp form even though the path isn’t clear.

“Oh no. Please, please, stay alive,” she begs futile. On her knees, she untangles his limbs. Her arrow is lodged just below his breast and jutting from his ribs. She presses on his wound to stop it from bleeding. Her breath shakes all throughout, her hands colour with red and she bites back a panicked scream. He’s gasping, not breathing, and a minute later, he’s choking up blood that splatters on her face and armour.

“Professor!” Mercedes’s voice.

When Byleth looks up, a soldier has come too close, his sword already raised at his side. Just when she turns and withdraws her sword, the man is cut down before her eyes. A lance catches his shoulder and forces him backwards. Byleth finds Ingrid in her periphery, who nods once at her before riding her Pegasus horse back to the thick of battle.

A steely resolve replaces the uncertainty on her face. No other students should have to die today, especially not her own.

She forces herself up. “Mercedes!” Her voice, now sharp with command, cuts through the murmur of clashing swords and growling beasts. When their healer arrives, even Mercedes notices her change in tone and posture. Byleth only gestures behind her.

“If you can save him, do so. If not, return to battle,” she says, back to snapping short-fire commands out of necessity. She ducks out of sight a moment later, joining the others in arms and Mercedes doesn’t argue with her.

----------

Hours later, Byleth surveys the aftermath of battle. The air smells of fire, metal and blood. It will take several days of rain to wash the stains off these floors. In front of her, Ladislava is dead on the ground, eyes and mouth still wide open from the scream that tore through her mouth. The beasts they fought have turned into bloody piles of muck.

Her vacant stare settles on two of her students. Just ahead, Lorenz lies in a pool of his own blood. It’s clear who bears the heavy responsibility. Annette is sitting on her knees nearby, shoulders still shaking, hands clenched and wrapped tight around her. Beside her, to Byleth’s surprise, stands Felix. His eyes are closed, face turned to the ground. Perhaps silence is all they need.

Eventually, Annette gets up on unsteady feet, and Byleth doesn’t know what she’s saying to him. Her face is pale as she whispers something with tremendous difficulty. She holds out her hands for him to see and Byleth notices they’re stained with blood that doesn’t belong to her. Not far, Gilbert watches with a solemn gaze, thinking there’s nothing he can do to rid of his daughter’s shame.

Byleth looks at her own hands, frustration and anger already sealed and bottled inside her. Mercedes finds her later and the somber look on her face is enough to confirm what she already knows.

----------

“Dedue?”

Dedue is alive. He’s back. He’s breathing. It takes a few minutes for it to sink. She’d just taken the life of a student, and now another appears before her.

When Ingrid escorts her to see him – she’d been so caught in the chaos of battle to mind his presence – she doesn’t know how to react. All sorts of thoughts wash over at the same time. Her mind flits between anguish, doubt and relief, and so her face just scrunches up in contorted confusion and pain, but it’s only her emotions manifesting in ways she can’t properly express.

“Professor.” Dedue bows. Seeing the scars on his face and hearing his voice strikes a painful chord. “I am glad to see you in one piece after so many years.”

Slowly, her face molds into resignation.

“Certain events have prevented me from taking care of His Highness the past five years. I am grateful you found him, and that you are taking care of him. I am in your debt once again.” His proper speech and wooden tone rings so familiar and true. “I wish to fight at His Highness’s side,” he continues. “Please allow me to join your group once more.”

Byleth manages a small smile and nods once, “Of course.”

The Blue Lions, although not entirely whole, are finally complete again.

To the surprise of others, she reaches up and lightly touches Dedue’s cheek, just to feel the warmth of life under her fingertips and know he’s alive and real. She hopes the soft gesture makes up for all the things she leaves unsaid.

Afterwards, she stands to the side and allows the others to flock and fawn over him. His expression cracks and the hard edges of his face soften at the sudden attention. Mercedes hugs him and hides her tears, Sylvain bombards him with questions about the missing years, Ashe promises to cook for him later, and Ingrid smiles with relief and contentment.

Byleth looks for Dimitri and finds him with Rodrigue. Even as the Fraldarius leader speaks to him, his gaze is trained on his peers. The moment doesn’t last. He catches her staring and promptly turns away.

----------

Byleth sleeps for nearly a full day when they return to the monastery. Someone was kind enough to leave a serving from the kitchen at her doorstep. She has complete faith Dedue will do the same for Dimitri in her stead from now on.

She exits her room to an evening dusk. Her feet take her straight to the cathedral grounds. She’s made a habit out of it apparently. The path is so familiar now. She understands a small part of why Dimitri spends every waking moment here. No amount of praying can wash the blood off your hands so instead you beg for forgiveness.

Strange enough, he’s not standing in front of the rubble today. Her brows crease at the sight, as if he’s missing from the picture. Instead, she finds Mercedes and Dedue standing in the middle of the floor. As she draws near, she catches a bit of their uttered prayers to both Duscur and Fódlan gods. Prayers for safekeeping and for the war to end soon.

One of them catches her waiting presence before long.

“Oh, you’ve finally woken up. I hope you’re feeling better,” Mercedes pipes up softly, not to disturb Dedue in prayer.

The man opens his eyes anyway and turns to see who’s approached. “Are you looking for His Highness?”

Many have developed a habit of associating her with the Prince, as if she’s become his caretaker. Her students are no exception. She wonders his whereabouts so she nods anyway.

“Dimitri suffered minor wounds from our last battle. We managed to get him to the infirmary to treat them,” Mercedes answers with nonchalance, even though Byleth can imagine the struggle it must have taken to get him there.

Dedue nods. “He is resting there as we speak, courtesy of Mercedes’s patience and healing magic.”

Byleth mutters a quick ‘thank you’ before turning her heel.

She arrives at the infirmary to a comforting sight. Dimitri asleep on the bed, more serene than she’s ever seen him, while Sylvain and Ingrid sit on either side. His fur cloak rests on the back of a chair, most of the blood stains and dirt washed off. Pieces of his armour are stacked along the wall. And even without all that, Dimitri still looks too big for the bed.

She looks to his peers. Sylvain shoots her a smile and raises a finger to his lips in a hushing motion. When he points across him, he doesn’t mean just Dimitri, but Ingrid as well. She’s dozing off in her chair, arms crossed in front of her as her head lulls to her breathing.

“He’s been asleep for most of today,” Sylvain speaks up softly. “Took a whole lot of work and patience to get him up here, but here he is. Finally.”

Byleth casts her gaze on the Prince, noticing now his arms and body are wrapped in bandages.

“He desperately needs the rest. Based on what we saw, he barely even recovered from our last few battles. Burns everywhere, infected wounds, nasty cuts that weren’t closed properly…” Sylvain exhales deeply and leans back on his chair. “…stubborn fool he is.”

Ingrid grunts softly, lulled awake despite his efforts. She blinks her bleary eyes and rubs her neck as she glances around the room. Her voice is groggy as it comes out, “Ugh…how long was I asleep for?”

The redhead leans back slightly to catch a glimpse of the clock. “About an hour now.”

She sighs in exasperation and shoots him her classic look. “You should have woken me.”

Sylvain isn’t one to be scolded. “Nah. You need your rest too. Besides, you looked so peaceful. And cute, sleeping so soundly. I much more enjoyed watching you than Dimitri over here.”

She groans. If they didn’t have to be quiet, she’d counter back. Regardless, she quits while she’s ahead and brushes the pettiness aside. She turns to watch Dimitri rest. Before anything else, Sylvain gets up, his chair creaking lightly under him.

“You know what? I’ll go brew you some tea. Care to have one, Professor?”

Byleth shakes her head. Once he leaves the room, silence reigns. It doesn’t last long.

“Did you know? Dimitri taught me something important about knighthood once.”

“What was it?” she inquires gently.

Ingrid looks away then, eyes shifting to the floorboards. She’d always been the type to carry her burdens in silence. “I’ve told you about Glenn before, haven’t I?”

Her professor nods.

“Well, I thought he was the perfect knight. He served the King well, even sacrificed his life in battle. After that, he became a hero and now he’s the reason I’m on this path to become a knight myself. Back then, I even wanted to marry him.”

The confession rolls off her lips so easily that it surprises her. Ingrid isn’t one to speak of marriage lightly. One would think she might even abhor the thought of it.

“I molded my ideas of knighthood around him, until His Highness suggested otherwise. Truth is, maybe he died with a heavy heart. Maybe even regret. Doesn’t sound so glamorous anymore, does it?” Her teacher doesn’t say anything, not that she expects her to. The blonde just shakes her head and straightens her back. “Anyway, it doesn’t deter me from pursuing my goal. He merely taught me that knighthood isn’t about sacrifice or becoming a hero, it’s about protecting someone you care about.”

Byleth smiles, seeing now how much she’s grown. Ingrid seldom reveals personal things about herself.

She follows up with a hollow sigh. “My Father is opposed to it still. Even now, he intends to marry me off to secure my family’s nobility within the kingdom, because I was born with a crest.”

There’s a snort from the side and Byleth watches as Sylvain returns with two cups in hand. He hands one to Ingrid, who mutters a quiet thanks.

“Your old man is still ragging on about that, huh?”

She nods, blowing at the edges of her teacup.

“I’d give up my crest too if I could.”

Sylvain says it so quietly she could have missed it. Byleth almost feels like a bystander. It never occurred to her how much these two had in common. She’s beginning to see how much their lives have been shaped by their crests, something of which they had no control. It is a disjointed notion of the world. To be born with a crest is to be born lucky, and yet she stares at the two in front of her and knows it to be a lie.

Inwardly, Byleth thanks Jeralt for not imposing or even allowing her life to be dictated by such. As if something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of.

There’s a groan from the bed and all heads turn to Dimitri. She looks on with wary anticipation, and finds herself confused by their rather calm dispositions.

“He gets nightmares,” Ingrid pipes up, as if reading her mind. “He’ll shake and mumble things in his sleep, but he never wakes from them. They usually pass on their own.”

It’s exactly as she says. Dimitri starts tossing lightly, head shifting from one side to another. The incoherent mutters come next. His hands clench, body stiffens and sweat drips from his hairline as a pained expression takes over. He breaks into low, uneven and choked sobs and Byleth forgets herself. Sylvain and Ingrid watch interest as she moves over to him, takes his hand and makes room for her to sit at his bedside. She barely engages with anyone, let alone with a level of intimacy.

She leans forward slightly, frames herself in his line of sight. A gentle hand goes to his forehead to wipe the sweat off his brow and she brushes the hair sticking on his face, tucks it behind his ear. She’s vulnerable where she is. He could easily wake and lunge at her.

She glances over his shaking form. To distract him from the noise, she cards her fingers through his locks and prays for the terrors to leave. She offers him her warmth and light, which is what she tried to do the day she found him at the Goddess Tower.

Sylvain and Ingrid aren’t surprised when it works. He doesn’t wake. His mutterings cease. Muffled sobs turn into quiet breathing and he doesn’t become restless and fitful. They still latch to her every thought and action, and watch as a curiosity molds her expression. When Dimitri is quiet again, her hand goes to his chest instead. For a while, she revels in his heartbeat and observes the rise and fall of his chest. And then she hears it for herself. She leans forward and lays her head on his chest, her ear pressed against his heart.

For a while, she just listens.

His pulse beats strong and loud. She has to wonder why it sounds different from her own. Hers always seems more mechanical, not as robust.

Perhaps it’s because she’d been a stillborn. It was confirmed in Jeralt’s writings. She was lifeless once, no beating heart to begin with and now the ability to feel and express is a daily struggle. Dimitri, on the other hand, feels too much. So much that he’s driven to madness. Maybe that’s why his heart beats so strong with life.

Byleth draws back and blankness finds her face again.

She’s still uncertain. When she rises to stand, she bows at the waist towards her students.

“Thank you for keeping watch over him,” she says, before leaving the room to ponder her realization.

----------

Byleth forgets about the young girl who begged to join their group. Her name is Fleche. They formally meet at the next council meeting. Her own thirst for vengeance reminds her eerily of Dimitri.

Speaking of which, the Prince is awake now and has been for several days. His ghosts have wasted no time as he easily slips back to his abrasive and erratic form. Every offer and attempt to distract him is spurned and rejected. She keeps her eyes on him throughout the table discussion.

Both the Empire and Alliance are making advances. If they take advantage of the situation, three military forces will clash at Gronder Field. What a shame. Taking a chance to fight old friends, wasting memories of teamwork and camaraderie.

Edelgard might show, which sways the vote to a majority, even as her own students show hesitation. Dimitri shows no such thing and it makes her tick. He shares no misgivings about killing members of the Alliance, whom she suggested they try recruiting to their side. Instead, she sees the beginnings of something cruel and terrible. Students fighting each other. Dimitri losing himself to frenzy and hysteria at the mere sight of his stepsister. All their efforts to appease his manic desire for vengeance becoming in vain. Byleth betraying herself, because she never wanted another student’s blood on her hands.

She stays when the meeting is over. The firm expression she shoots Gilbert and Rodrigue prompts them to stay behind as well.

When everyone has left the room, Rodrigue breaks silence. “You don’t approve of this plan, do you?”

Byleth shakes her head.

There’s frustrated a sigh from Gilbert, which he’s been doing a lot lately. “Sacrifices must be made, Professor. You know as much as I do how much the war has already taken from us,” he justifies, tone cutting and bleak. “If recruiting the Alliance falls within your interest, there’s no reason to pass up the opportunity to meet them there. For all we know, the war could end at Gronder Field if everything goes according to plan.”

She closes her eyes. Gilbert has grown fast and weary in these short months, and his patience is starting to thin. He desires to end this war once and for all, for the sake of Holy Kingdom, his liege and his daughter. Byleth knows she cannot argue with that. Their goal has always been to stop the Empire, no matter the cost.

Afterwards, she offers him a curt nod, as if to rescind her previous thoughts.

His expression loses some of its edges. “I apologize. It does not elude me how much responsibility has fallen on your shoulders, both on and off the field...” The downcast expression he wears is one of an unfulfilled man. “Truly, I am ashamed I cannot do more for you.”

She acknowledges the sentiment with a nod. Shifting to the other, Rodrigue’s expression has become rather curious. She raises him a brow.

He clears his throat first. “Professor, I noticed you seemed rather invested in Dimitri throughout the meeting. More so than usual, I mean. Are you troubled by something?”

If she feels worried or fearful at all, it doesn’t reach her face. “I suspect he might leave.”

“Leave?” The two older men repeat it in almost perfect unison.

She nods again. “Yes. He’s threatened to do it before.”

Rodrigue’s brows crease, first in doubt and disbelief, but then she watches as it fades into thoughtful consideration.

“Perhaps it’s best we keep a closer eye on him then.”

----------

Days pass and she grows in anticipation. She keeps tabs on his movements until he retires to his quarters, or sleeps on one of the church pews. There are days he’s in no condition to do such bold things – mornings and nights he spends on his knees, sobbing and begging the voices in his head to forgive him. And there are days he spends in rage, painting his sister as the devil, forgetting himself and forgetting she’s one of the only family he has left.

A few days before they plan to depart, she has a terrible foreboding. He barely slept last night and he was absent for the meeting. He’s lashed out few times already. He seems more deluded and tortured today, and they’re so close that he might as well go off on his own.

Afternoon light pours from the ruined roof of the church and Byleth looks to Dedue. She cranes her neck up and searches his eyes for thought. Maybe he has a similar inkling, but instead, the Duscur man confirms something she’s long suspected now.

“His Highness is very much back to his old self,” he pipes up, noticing her curious gaze. “He’s been this way for the majority of time I’ve known him. The young man you met at the academy was someone trying to suppress his nature. Regardless, I still feel he is too kind to be king. So tortured by his compassion for the fallen it has driven him mad.”

So it’s true. She hardly knew him. He’d been hiding himself the entire time. He’d been this vengeful and manic person much longer than the chivalrous house leader.

Her eyes move to Dimitri, gaze softer.

Dedue takes careful note of it. “Professor. His Highness has always felt much for you too and I believe he still does. Please do not forget that.”

----------

Later that night, her premonition proves right.

Just an hour past midnight, she’s sitting atop the stone steps of the monastery’s entrance. The night air is chilly and she rubs her arms for warmth. She’s alone here. The church lacks guards to assign watch for all the hours in the day.

The sound of footsteps draw nearer. She twists around where sure enough, a tall figure with light hair stands a distance away. He’s barely visible in the darkness. A disappointed sigh escapes her lips and she rises to stand despite the cold stiffness in her bones.

He emerges from the shadowy tunnel and steps into the dim moonlight, stopping when he identifies who blocks his path up ahead. His lone eye widens a fraction. He’s surprised to see her. It’s the same look he wore the day she found him. He thinks she’s one of his ghosts coming to stop him, but then he grunts and shakes his head, reminding himself what he set out to do.

Sometimes he can barely differentiate what’s real.

“Get out of my way,” he says darkly.

She shakes her head.

“I’ll say it again. Leave this place at once and let me go!”

“I won’t do that,” she voices calmly. Her sword is ready at her hip.

He grumbles and snarls, but it’s not aimed at her. The struggle he fights is internal, like his mind is split in half. “You don’t understand! I’d hate to kill you too!”

Briefly, she remembers what Dedue’s words. He’s always felt much for you.

Her gaze softens. “Don’t leave then. You’re safe here.”

His eye glowers suddenly. Something snaps inside of him. A wicked smirk curves his lips and he’s lost himself. The vengeful monster has taken rein. Whatever hold she has on him is gone. He squares his feet on the ground and finally reaches for the lance at his back. It might take a goddess miracle to calm him down.

He cocks his head to one side, appraising her for battle. “You leave me with no choice, Professor! I’ll cut you down too if I have to!”

She draws her weapon and that’s when he flinches forward, charging with an erupting rage and fire as he bears down his first strike and forces her to defend. Their weapons clash and her sword ignites in her hands, alight with her crest.

It takes all her strength just to hold him back and stop him from overpowering her. Dimitri is heavier and has always had the physical advantage. With their faces aligned, he must see her face so clearly. He growls and grits his teeth, his face set into hardness.

“Dimitri, stop this!”

He doesn’t listen, instead puts his weight on his lance before thrusting at her middle with deft hands and quick precision. She careens to one side, barely missing a straight puncture to her gut, and forces down another strike, which he counters easy.

“I already told you not to get in my way!”

She grunts against him and when he withdraws, she quickly ducks at a swing to her neck. She stays back this time to play on the defensive. The muscles in her arms still ache. Her palms burn. Her teeth hurt. Her body quivers with exhaustion. By sheer force alone, he could end her life if he truly desired it.

“Is that all you got?” he jeers, challenge edging his tone. He takes one step forward, and she takes one step back. He doesn’t miss it. “Ha! Scared, aren’t you? I thought you were better than that!”

Dimitri grips his blade in a two-fisted grip and snaps forward, mad with power and rage, lightning behind his teeth. She swiftly dodges the lunge of his lance, and then defends herself against another. It’s not long before his attacks become relentless. One strike after another, thoughtless and coming from all directions. Their metals clash and clatter with every slash. She feels his anger burn at every turn. He’s determined to find blood.

Her hands move to their own accord, even as the hilt of her sword burns and blisters her hands. She forces him to swing wide and takes advantage of his opening. Her free hand conjures the symbols in the air and she casts fire to his chest, chucking him backwards several feet away.

Reckless, she thinks. Blinded by his own delusion. She knows his weaknesses better than he does.

He makes a frustrated noise, but gets to his feet quickly. That same crooked smile finds his lips again as he wipes blood off his cheek. He’s never resembled a boar more than he does now.

“Finally taking this seriously, huh?” His body contorts into battle position, and he calculates her from afar. He lets his excitement and destruction possess him. “Come at me with all you got then! I’ve always wanted to fight you for real!”

He raises his lance again, but she changes her tack. Engaging him with violence was never what she wanted. To his surprise, she sheathes her sword instead.

A boisterous laugh erupts from his lips. He must think her senseless. “Are you giving up?”

There are two sides to him fighting for control. She needs to draw out the one who might listen. “Tell me, Dimitri,” she calls out, voice steady and even. “Is this what you truly desire? My death on your hands?”

He scoffs loudly as disbelief paints his expression. “This is no time for discussion! Draw your blade!”

She shakes her head and ignores his demands. “You wished five years ago that no one else would be taken away from you. Do you remember?”

“Drop this nonsense, Professor! You can’t help me.”

Her lips press into a thin line. She closes her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t,” she says, voice warm and gentle. Her breath hitches. “I didn’t abandon you on purpose.”

His lone eye widens a crack, like a loosened seam. His lips move, but he struggles to get words out.

Byleth drops her hands and maintains her warm tone. “I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

There’s a shift in him. She can almost see it in his face. His mind is warring with itself once again. “Professor, I-”

His lance drops to the ground with a loud clack, and then he falls to his knees, clutching both sides of his head. The voices must be screaming again. Automatically, she moves closer to kneel in front of him and lays a gentle hand on his shaking shoulders.

“Ah- Father, I swear to you-” His throat catches and his gravelly voice shudders. “I promise I’ll kill her. I’ll see to it you’re avenged. Edelgard, she’s still-”

“Not real, Dimitri. Don’t listen to them-”

Suddenly, he hurls forward into a loud, barking coughing fit. She’s in his way, and she’s forced to catch his hauled body in her arms. As best as she can, she holds him steady, rubs his back gently as he heaves and hacks into the ground behind her. He’s still healing too, it seems. Long nights spent in a cold church hasn’t helped him in that regard.

He collapses and slackens in her hold after, drained and empty. His head lays atop her shoulder, and she rearranges her arms around his middle to keep him from slipping. Even still, she reaches one hand to his head to finger his locks, much like she did when he suffered his nightmares. It must be a familiar distraction, because he hushes once he feels it.

“I…it’s so loud in here…” he utters with raspy breath.

“I know,” she whispers. The voices haven’t left him and she adds suddenly, “I’m so sorry.”

He jerks in her hold and draws back to sit on his knees, relieving himself off her. When she catches his eye, he looks rather surprised to see her. Like he didn’t expect to hear her voice. He gives her the same look again. He thinks she’s a ghost. Their clash is all but forgotten. Like the Goddess Tower all over again, but instead of hissing violent threats, he just grits his teeth.

He grunts softly. “It hurts…” There’s a brokenness in his voice.

“Where?”

He swallows hard. “My head.”

“Okay,” she says, voice watery. She’s just as shaken too. “Let me help you.”

He doesn’t resist when she places a hand on his shoulder, willing him to slack under her touch. She shifts their bodies and guides him to her, carrying him with her small hands and not stopping until he’s settled across her lap. She holds his head close to her chest and brushes his hair to glance over his grown features. He’s never allowed her to get this close before.

He opens his eye when she touches him. His brows crease at her expression.

“Professor, you’re…”

She sees it before she feels it – teardrops falling on his cheek. She supposes that part of him never changed. He was always so observant of her emotions.

She shakes her head, tells him to think nothing of it, but it’s a white lie. She can only remember one other time she cried and it was for her Father. With her sleeve, she wipes the tears from his cheek. For reassurance, she tries to smile, but he doesn’t buy it.

“Was it me?” he asks, voice laden with heaviness. “Did I do this to you?”

She shakes her head furiously, but doesn’t know if it reaches him. He shifts in her arms and settles more comfortably, and then he’s quiet after. His breathing calms and he closes his eye. He stays like that until he’s fallen asleep.

She takes the chance while she has it and presses her forehead against his cold skin. She cradles his head, nuzzles his hair and warms his face with her breath. She closes her eyes too, content to listen to his quiet breathing. Eventually, she loses track of time.

She looks up when she senses movement from the side. Her gaze is cast towards the monastery gates where Rodrigue is standing. He approaches the pair quietly and she allows him to assess the sleeping Prince in her arms – more peaceful than his usual. His eyes then shift to her face, where he finds none of the blankness he’s used to.

“Please. Could you help me carry him?”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods. Gently, they stand him up and support him on either side. After a small discussion, they decide his room is best. Warm and familiar, because even now he still teeters on an edge. He’s barely awake as they walk him past the market and pond.

The older man senses her struggle before she does. One look at her and he can only assume her bones are aching and emotions running wild with bare understanding. Dimitri is drifting in and out of consciousness as it is. He pauses at the staircase.

“Perhaps we should get Dedue? We could use his strength getting him up the stairs.”

She nods at that and five minutes later, she’s back with the prince’s retainer following in tow. Dedue doesn’t ask any questions and instead goes to support his liege from the other side. Byleth doesn’t argue when she’s tasked to carry his belongings for the rest of the way.

Dimitri is barely conscious when they settle him in bed. Rodrigue takes his leave after, stating he has much to think about after what he just witnessed. Dedue chooses to stand guard outside. Byleth recalls how cold he felt in her arms and tucks him in. She adds his fur cloak on top for extra measure. When she exits his quarters, she finds herself face to face to the waiting eyes of her students.

Felix and Sylvain must have woken to the ruckus. By the looks on their faces, they’ve already been informed. The Fraldarius heir takes one look at her before turning away with an exasperated huff. Sylvain actually surveys her stained cheeks and reddened eyes, and gazes at her with pity.

“Tried to leave, didn’t he?” Felix pipes up, shaking his head. “What a nuisance. This many months in, and he’s still so far gone.”

Sylvain ignores his insults and tips his head towards the end of the hall. “You don’t look well, Professor. Get some rest. We can take over from here.”

----------

She retires to the Captain’s quarters that night. She’s been sleeping on Jeralt’s old couch since the battle at the bridge. There’s something about staying in the student dormitories that doesn’t sit right. Empty as they are now, she will face more of them on the battlefield.

Tonight, she feels quite ill. Her throat is sore and dry. Her limbs are cold.

She unlatches the armour off her arms and massages her wrist. Holding off Dimitri, even for that brief moment, wasn’t easy. Watching him struggle to fight his demons was even harder. Her mind goes to Jeralt instead and how much she wishes he were still here. She wishes it every night.

A knock on her door alerts her stance and she glances briefly behind her. Green hair. Seteth.

The older man observes her with a tilt of his head. “Should I call for a healer?”

She shakes her head.

He pauses, noting how her gaze flits to Jeralt’s old things. His old armour, sword, his old books. “You must be thinking of your Father.”

She remembers the rain.

A flash of red hair sauntering behind him and how in that instant, her world became bent and then broken. Not even divine intervention could save him. She’d been rendered powerless, crushed by the hands of fate. She clung desperately in the pouring rain, forgetting her students were there. She thought of how nothing could possibly hurt more than when he died in her arms and breathed his last.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

She nods. “I do.”

“Perhaps you should spend the next days in rest. We’re due to arrive in Gronder Field soon.”

“Of course,” she says, even though the reminder is bitter. She listens to Seteth’s fading footsteps as he retires to his own room.

When she drifts off to sleep, she doesn’t think of Gronder Field or the pain in her body or the even the war itself. Instead, her mind flashes to the moments before, when he looked at her with a brokenness she’d never seen. Dimitri thinking he caused her so much pain, but that wasn’t the case at all. A rising sensation growing in her chest, settling uncomfortably and manifesting in tears. She didn’t think she could feel so much for anyone besides her Father. She held him close for a long while to subdue her fear of him wandering off alone.

She falls asleep, a soft prayer on her lips that he never scares her like that again.

----------

#fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe3h #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth #dimileth #dimileth fanfic #post timeskip #angst #romance

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disneyslament · 4 years

Link

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: f!Byleth/Dedue

Summary: Byleth takes care of the greenhouse in Dedue's absence, but it feels lonely without him.

The Flower of Duscur

Despite the loss suffered by Garreg Mach in the five years of war while Byleth slept, the sturdy glass of the greenhouse remained intact. Within, flowers thrived of all species. Amidst all the death and destruction five years of war brought, life continued here, flourished even. Byleth didn’t understand how exactly. Without anyone present at the monastery to water the plants, how was it so many of them survived?

Garreg Mach remained a ghost town now, even with her old students back roaming the halls. Dimitri spent most of his time alone and muttering to himself, while the others reconnected with each other after so long apart. To Byleth, it was all a bit overwhelming, so she found herself in the greenhouse searching for solace after a long day.

She reached a hand, scarred and callused from her many years working as a mercenary, to one of the most beautiful of the flowers. It grew barely an inch above the soil, but its pink blossoms stood out amongst the green shrubbery surrounding it where the weeds grew out of control.

“They are from Duscur,” Dedue told her once, when she was but a teacher and he but a simple student, alive and well. “They require a dry environment. The roots will rot otherwise.”

Now that her attention focused on these pink flowers, she noticed that they spread from their corner where Dedue once pointed them out to almost the entirety of the greenhouse floor. This explained why the greenhouse appeared to be thriving despite the lack of care: the flowers of Duscur survived all this time without water. They were used to being independent.

Duscur… Dedue…

It felt like no time at all passed since Byleth last saw everyone in that fateful battle at Garreg Mach, and yet…

Everyone and everything changed.

And the solitude of this greenhouse wouldn’t be the same without Dedue.

~~~

“I thought I might be able to find you in here, Professor.”

Byleth relaxed from her kneeling position and sat cross-legged on the floor. She took off her gardening gloves and wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand, smearing a coat of dirt on her skin. Ashe sat down next to her and smiled, picking up the spade she had been using to dig up the brown remains of plants buried beneath the green.

“We’re all worried about His Highness, but I want you to know that we’re worried about you, too,” Ashe said, reaching into the thick of it and gently scooping up a small pile of dry soil. “You can’t fix everything by yourself. I’d be happy to help out here.”

“You do know more than I do about plants,” Byleth admitted. But something tugged within her, something unfamiliar, and she squeezed the gloves in her hands. “Ah, well, I think I’ve got this mostly taken care of, though. If you don’t mind helping out in the kitchen? I’m sure the others would rather eat your cooking than mine.”

Ashe nodded, letting the soil fall back to the ground. “That sounds fair. Is there anything specific that you would like to eat? We don’t have much, but I can try to make something with what we have.”

Byleth shook her head and slipped her hands back into the gardening gloves. She yanked at a weed in between a few pink blossoms and added it to her growing pile between herself and Ashe. Ashe said his goodbyes and had just made it to the creaking greenhouse doors when Byleth stopped again and turned to look back at him.

“Hold on, Ashe.”

His hand lingered on the ornate, but dusty, door. “Did you think of something, Professor?”

“Did Dedue ever teach you any recipes from Duscur?”

Her voice was quieter than usual. Byleth never said much, as all the Blue Lions knew, but Ashe had never heard her so timid before, almost as if she was embarrassed to say it. Byleth, and most of her class of students, got along well with Dedue. Only Ingrid and Felix didn’t have many nice things to say about him.

So, why the embarrassment?

Still, it wasn’t Ashe’s place to question it. He just smiled at his professor. “He taught me a couple of them. I doubt it will be much the same as his cooking, but I can try to recreate one of them for supper tonight if you like.”

“I would like that,” she responded and returned to work weeding the garden.

~~~

No one would suspect it—or if they did, they would never speak aloud of it—but the guilt hit Byleth hard. Her time alone in the greenhouse was both cathartic and isolating, and it allowed her to think about all she missed during those years.

She let her students down. If she had been there, what fate would have befallen the Kingdom? Surely she alone would not have made all the difference, but she could have kept Dimitri from falling down this dark path he now carved for himself. She could have kept the Blue Lions together, organized them into a team sooner than now. Maybe she could have saved Dedue.

It was no use thinking about the “what ifs” of five years’ time. All the same, Byleth kept running the possibilities through her mind. She had been unable to save her father, and now she had been unable to help her students—her friends.

All she could do now was prove herself on the battlefield as a leader. They managed to defend themselves against the Imperial troops who came to take back Garreg Mach, thanks in part to Byleth’s direction. The following moon, they secured troops at Ailell, despite a setback thanks to a rat in their forces.

But were those just flukes? Did Byleth know what she was doing?

The first real test of their strength and Byleth’s leadership skills would be taking the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Thanks to Claude, passage through Gloucester territory would be mostly smooth, leaving their small army to deal with just the Imperial army guarding the bridge. This would be no small feat, especially since Byleth needed to constantly watch Dimitri out of the corner of her eye to make sure he didn’t risk all their lives.

Byleth could not imagine what sort of horrors Dimitri saw in the five years she slept. She would say he had changed, except she suspected this had been within him all the time she knew him. Not even Rodrigue’s presence soothed the beast, as she hoped it might, and his behavior put everyone else on edge, too.

She understood, of course. He had been right, just now. She took up her sword in pursuit of Monica five years ago… all for revenge. And Dimitri told her back then, too, that the only reason he came to the Officers Academy was for revenge. If she stepped in his shoes, would she also thirst for revenge as he did?

But Felix was right, too. They had all lost someone, some sooner than others. Felix lost his brother, Ingrid her fiancé, Ashe his parents and adoptive father, Mercedes her mother, Annette her father even as he stood there with them, Sylvain his brother, Byleth her father. Still, they fought on. Still, they retained their humanity.

So, all Byleth could do was make sure no one else got lost, too.

All part of the job, she told herself as they got into formation on the bridge. She could see the wheels turning in Dimitri’s head through his visible eye, but when he noticed her looking, he glared at her and turned away.

“Attack Ladislava and take the bridge,” Rodrigue ordered. “Shall we begin?”

Byleth raised her left hand, the one free of the Sword of the Creator, and let it linger in the air for a moment. She wondered if anyone noticed how she shook.

“Attack!” she shouted, lowering her hand like a whip.

They fought on, the clashing of metal on metal like a symphony in the background. It was only when an unexpected voice broke through the chorus that Byleth hesitated, and her opponent got in a hit. Ashe fired an arrow, knocking down the man who clipped Byleth’s shoulder.

She put pressure on the wound but turned back without much attention to the battle around her anymore. And for the first time in the many moons since their reunion, Byleth saw humanity on Dimitri’s face once again, if only for a moment.

“Dedue…”

The sound stopped. Byleth’s ears rang as soon as she heard Dimitri say that name, and she looked further back to see the man of Duscur she believed dead standing among their ranks.

Lips moved, words exchanged, and Byleth heard none of it. It wasn’t until a hand smacked down on her opposite shoulder than she was thrown back into reality. “Pay attention!” Felix yelled. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Right. Now wasn’t the time. She had to make it through this battle alive, make sure they all made it through this battle alive, and then she could disappear into herself again. What sort of illusion could this be to distract her so during an important battle like this?

An illusion… yes, an illusion. Was it so?

~~~

The Blue Lions, reunited once again, gathered for supper the next evening upon their return to Garreg Mach. Only two members of their former House were absent from this celebration both of victory and of Dedue’s return.

The two members who needed to be there and were not.

No one was surprised by Dimitri’s absence. He had not joined his old classmates for a meal since their reunion, leaving Felix to suspect that he feasted on the remains of wild animals to satisfy his lust for blood, much to Ingrid’s disgust.

But Byleth? She went out of her way to make sure no one ever ate alone, even if that meant she sat with an empty plate while the other person ate. For her not to be here with everyone meant something was wrong.

Instead, Byleth sat in the silence of the greenhouse. The trickling of rain hitting the glass roof soothed her like a lullaby as she pulled out more weeds. There seemed to be an endless amount. No matter how many invaders she removed, more always appeared. She never had the touch when it came to keeping them out.

The sound of rain prevented Byleth from hearing another person entering the greenhouse. She continued her work, wiping the sweat from her face with her muddy arm.

In the dark, one might have confused the beads of sweat on her cheeks for tears.

She jumped when she noticed another person knelt beside her. “Dedue! You shouldn’t be here!”

“My apologies for startling you, Professor. The others were wondering where you were, and Ashe suggested I might find you here to invite you to dinner,” Dedue said. His voice had not changed, not like Dimitri’s had, in the past five years.

“No, I’m… I’m busy, I…” Byleth dropped her gloves to her side and stood up. “You need to go back and tell the others I’m not coming.”

Dedue stood, as well. He always towered over her—over everyone, really. But he was the only one who she needed to look up to, literally, and to others, it could be intimidating. Byleth, though, found comfort in his size.

And Goddess, how she missed him. Standing by his side now looking up into his green eyes, she remembered the connection she felt with him. And he had been dead, he had been gone, just like she had. But only she remembered it all like it was yesterday. Those five years did not exist to her.

“Very well.” Dedue bowed and turned to leave. Byleth watched him, making sure he really left. Then it was just the rain trickling again.

She sighed and hurried out after him. “Dedue!” she called, holding a hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the rain.

He turned back. “Yes?”

“Come back to the greenhouse tomorrow morning.”

He nodded, and then continued through the rain back to the dining hall. Byleth stood in the rain for a minute longer watching him disappear into the darkness, until she couldn’t see him through the rain anymore.

For now, it was back to work.

~~~

The work took all night, and the sun barely had risen before Dedue entered the greenhouse as per Byleth’s request. She knew him to be an early riser, always the first to awaken in case Dimitri needed anything, but sometimes she beat him to the greenhouse on a rare occasion. Spending the entire night there guaranteed she’d be first.

She nearly dozed off a couple of times in the night, but she fought through the weight that sat on her eyelids. By the time Dedue arrived, though, sleep captivated her, and she lay on the floor with one hand still in the soil.

“Professor,” Dedue tried first, as putting his hands on her seemed wrong somehow. When she did not stir, no other choice could be made. He put a hand on her shoulder, careful not to touch the bandages covering her wound from the other day’s battle. “Professor, wake up.”

She stirred, groaning slightly as she rolled onto her back. Blinking the fog away, she sat up when her vision cleared enough to see Dedue above her.

“Dedue!”

“This is not an appropriate location to rest. I advise you to return to your quarters and get some rest,” he said.

Byleth scrambled to her feet, brushing the dirt off her clothes as best she could. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m glad you came.”

Like Byleth, Dedue did not often display his emotions clearly on his face, but his eyes betrayed the confusion he felt. “Yesterday you said that I did not belong here, and today you are glad I am here.”

Byleth winced as the words she said returned to her. “I’m sorry. It came out wrong. I didn’t want you to see the greenhouse until it was ready. I’ve been working the past few moons on it to get it back to its former glory, but…” Byleth held out her hand and stepped out of the way of her work. “This is all I could do.”

In the light of day, the greenhouse came to life. Dedue’s gaze fell on the pink flowers of Duscur first. The weeds had been removed completely, leaving the flowers at the forefront. They were no longer hidden away in the corner as they had been before, but directly in the middle where everyone could see them right when they walked into the greenhouse. The other flowers had been clipped and nurtured, complementing the pink flowers below like a crown might add magnificence.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Dedue walked around the greenhouse, leaning in to examine Byleth’s work every now and again. He touched a few leaves, his fingertips brushing the green so delicately that one might think the leaf would shatter with anything more.

Last, he stopped back in front of the pink flowers and knelt down. He grabbed the shears from where Byleth left them on the ground and carefully snipped a flower away from the others.

“There is no literal translation into the language of Fódlan for the name of this flower, but it might be closest to call it the Beauty of the North,” Dedue explained, setting the shears down and standing back up. The little flower appeared so tiny in his large hands. “This flower is native to the northernmost part of Duscur and thrives in the permafrost. There is no reason it should have survived here.”

“It must be adaptable,” Byleth suggested.

“Or it must have had a reason to survive.” Dedue reached up and snaked the stem of the flower beneath Byleth’s headband by her ear.

Byleth smiled, touching the petals of the flower in her hair. “We all have our reasons.”

Dedue nodded and turned to look back down at the flowers of Duscur. “It is good to see you again, Professor.”

“You, too, Dedue.”

Whatever reasons the Beauty of the North had for surviving, and whatever reasons they all had for living, it was easier to survive together. And for the first time in five years, the silence of the greenhouse did not feel so lonely anymore.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fe16 #f!byleth #dedue molinaro #byleth x dedue

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gallantgautier · 4 years

Note

ooc. no idea if my asks went through thanks tumblr hfsjdsd....... i wanted to send a hug meme but i could feasibly send all of them, so...... SURPRISE ME

((Rai says “Surprise me” I say “HOW ABOUT I DO A 5 TIMES + 1 FIC”))

ღ – A hug in greeting

He was so tiny, Sylvain, in all of histhree-year-old wisdom, didn’t know people could be so small. Held securelyin his brother’s arms, Master Fraldarius the younger slept soundly, peacefully.He wonders if Miklan ever held him like that, watched him with such fondnessthat he could warm the entire room.

Larger hands close around his wrists,Rodrigue, kneeling behind him, guiding him to form a cradle with his arms asGlenn settles the babe into them, “Support his head, Sylvain,” he says, quiet,careful not to wake his youngest son.

And Sylvain does, tenderly holding the boyclose to his chest. The infant’s eyes slowly blink open, and he knows enough aboutbabies that they often cry when they wake up, he holds his breath.

But those brown eyes stare up at him,curious, and he breaks into a toothy grin.

“Hi, Felix,” he whispers.

❣ –A hug after being separated

It was rare for Sylvain to arrive atGlasagwyn anything less than excitable. Rarer still, for it to be Glenn thatmet him at the gates, only raising his eyes to the older boy at the squeeze athis shoulder.

“He doesn’t know everything,” Glenn says,carefully, leading him away while their fathers conversed in low tones, “youknow how he worries.”

Sylvain nods, subdued. Don’t tell him, hehears, and he doesn’t want to either. The last thing he wants is to make hisbest friend cry.

When they join him in his room, however, hecan’t hold back. He launches himself into Felix’s arms, holding on tight as ifhe’s a lifeline. Felix, clearly confused, pats his shoulder and settles withhim into the pile of blankets Glenn forms into a fort on the floor for them.

He holds on all through the night, fastasleep together, while Glenn keeps vigil.

✉ – A hug goodbye

The world has gone to hell, and all he cando is stand and watch.

The Emperor declared war. The professor isgone. Rhea is gone. Dimitri looked to be falling to madness. The Monastery hasfallen. He’s called home.

The journey is the worst part. They alreadyleft Ingrid in Galatea territory, and now, on the border of Fraldarius andGautier, he’s set to make the last leg alone.

“Keep in contact,” Felix tells him, “stayalive.”

Felix.

He doesn’t want to leave him, not now, notafter an entire year at his side, not after everything they went through. Notwhen he’s only just putting a name to the warmth he feels whenever he looks hisway, not when there’s a chance he might never see him again.

He reaches out, grab’s his friend by hisforearm and pulls him into a brief, tight hug.

“Don’t get killed.” Please, please besafe.

✸ – A bear hug

The fifteenth boot shouldn’t be as much ofa surprise as it is.

And it’s not, not really, Felix hasn’tmissed a birthday yet, even after the war broke out, he still found away to have the boot delivered to his home. Some years he got it late, but thatwas always down to his own duties calling him elsewhere, and never for a lapsein his friend’s ability to judge when he should have the package sent.

But this one, the fifteenth, arrives withthe man himself, handed over in person. The last time that had happened, it wasthe fourth one. To say he’s a little overcome is a vast understatement.

And so, he expresses his gratitude in amanner befitting his emotional state, overbearing. He sets the boot downon the table, grabs Felix at his waist and gives no mind to the warning growlhe gets for it and lifts, crushing the other man to his chest as hefills the room with his laughter.

“You’re the best, Felix.”

✢ – An awkward hug

All things considered; Sylvain thinks hissituation is pretty understandable. He’d been carrying this torch for so longthat, now that it’s out in the open, welcomed, even, sort of, he doesn’treally know what to do with it.

And if he doesn’t know, then Felix isutterly hopeless.

Things had been… Weird, since then. That’snot to say he isn’t happy, far from it. At times he thinks back to howFelix had taken his confession and he feels like he’s floating on a cloud. Thisis real. This is happening. That kiss over a week ago had been real. This isall he’s ever wanted. But… Now what?

Felix has never been affectionate, atleast, not in the traditional sense, and he always has been. Or at least, he was when he was dating anyonewho so much as smiled at him, but this is different, so different, andit has him a little out of sorts.

Thank the Goddess that something about theoverwhelming sense of odd causes Felix to confront him about it, allsharp barbs and biting words, as is his custom. Sylvain wonders what it saysabout him that he finds it endearing.

“I need to know what you want from me.”Sylvain would call it a demand, if it weren’t for the subtle note ofuncertainty underlying his words, the way he doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “Ifwe’re… Agh, I have no experience with this. Look,” when Felix finally doeslook up, he’s predictably scowling, “if you want passionate gestures or amorousletters, you’ll need to look somewhere else.”

He’s infinitely glad he manages to holdback the tiny little laugh that threatens to build in his throat, becauseimagining Felix doing anything of the sort is hilarious.

But this… It clearly took a lot of effortfor Felix, he’s not about to make fun of him for that.

“I don’t want any of that,” Sylvainanswers, “I know that’s not you, and… It’s you I want.”

“Meaning?”

Right. Felix. No experience. No speakingwith implications.

“Well, a hug every now and then would benice.”

“…Oh.” A pause, “That’s all?”

“Well, maybe a kiss or two,” carefulGautier, he tells himself as he steps closer, into Felix’s space, don’tget greedy.

“I see,” Felix says, not moving away, “Thatdoesn’t sound… Terrible.”

Sylvain takes that as permission, he’llfind out pretty quickly if it’s not. He loops his arms around him, gatheringhim close. Felix stiffens for a beat but doesn’t pull away. And that’s fine,Sylvain is more than happy to just hold him, card his fingers through dark hairand allow himself to just have him near.

And when an arm hesitantly curls around hiswaist, he feels like he’s floating again.

☄ – A long hug

It’s strange, really. They’ve walked thispath before, said goodbye to Ingrid in the exact same place, stood on this veryborder ready to go their separate ways. And yet, this time is so verydifferent. The war is over, the sense of hopelessness is gone, Fodlan willrecover from her scars much like they will. And yet, once again, Sylvainhesitates.

Now, it’s not fear that has his feet frozenin place. Now, he can’t bear to leave simply because he doesn’t want to.

“You have work to do too, Sylvain.” Felixtells him, exasperated. Sylvain has never been deaf to the fondness underneath.

“Yeah, but…” he shifts his weight from onefoot to the other, shoulder sagging in a sigh, “It’s just, we haven’t beenapart since… And I…” He’s not going to cry. He won’t.

He is. Dammit.

The sound of Felix’s sigh is a familiar onetoo, a frustrated little noise that he’s heard so often that he’s fairly surehe’s dreamt of it once or twice. What isn’t expected is the accompanyingsound of snow crunching under boots, close, and arms curling around him.

“You look pathetic.”

Sylvain laughs through a sniff, it comesout sounding almost like a scoff. He wraps himself around the other man as bestas he’s able, burying his face against his shoulder, warm, safe, the only placehe ever wants to be.

“As soon as I can convince my old man I’mneeded here,” Sylvain begins, half muffled against Felix’s clothing, “as soonas I can, I’ll-”

“I’ll send for you,” Felix cuts him off, “beforeyou do.”

It’s closing in on dark by the time he let’s go, “A race, then.” he laughs into a kiss.

And so began their game of one-upmanship. Itis said that, in their later years, they became so close that they passed awayon the same day, as if conceding that one could not live without the other.

#ooc #memes #5 + 1 #OF HUGS #and yes I put part of the paired ending in there hfjkdsfhsjk #fraldariius

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bae-leth · 5 years

Text

(some more) interhouse relations!

inspired by @cynical-gamer-media, who made a really nice post about this already! I had a ton of fun reading it, so I decided to make my own.

The Blue Lions are the best when it comes to snowball fights, hands down. They come from/have spent time in Faerghus, so they've all been practising for a while, and are very good.

They only take headshots (as Ferdinand later learns).

However, their time in Faerghus kicks them in the face when it comes to summer. You find people like Ignace and Petra studying diligently in the front row, whilst their partners, Annette and Sylvain are slumped over, groaning constantly in face of the heat. Possibly dying, even (or so they say...)

Annette and Lysithea are usually partners in their magic lessons. Lysithea thinks this is fine, and is especially happy to be paired with someone of near equal ability... until Annette causes an explosion which singes half an eyebrow off and leaves her covered in soot.

"I'm so so sorry! It'll never happen again, I promise!"

(and then it happens again one week later.)

Lysithea doesn't mind too much, though - she becomes fast friends with Annette in the process.

Dorothea sings outside in the summer months, and everyone dozes under the trees and spend lazy afternoons just listening to her.

Caspar frequently sock slides down the corridors. Leonie and Sylvain often join him.

Caspar's also really good at giving pep talks to anyone, no matter the house. Ingrid looks down today? Suddenly Caspar's in front of her, pumping his fists in the air and yelling about justice, camaraderie, determination, blah blah blah...

(although people pretend to be annoyed, it's secretly endearing)

Exam season is HELL for everyone.

Sometimes you'll peer out the window at, what? One in the morning? and you'll find Felix slicing up a dummy with Raphael, with piles of destroyed dummies at the floor.

Just the two of them, in silence, stress-slicing.

Edelgard and Dimitri have been seen together going over notes on the morning of an exam while stuffing their faces with bread, appearances be damned.

(Claude saunters in later and helps, but without the panicking. He doesn't care anymore. If he doesn't know it in the morning, he sure as hell won't be able to learn it now.)

When Dorothea gets stressed, she goes outside and just yells into the courtyard. (CHORDS OF STEEL, AMIRITE.) Often, Ashe joins her.

Moving on from exams, EVERYONE goes to Mercedes for hair advice. EVERYONE.

One day, Lorenz emerges with beautiful silky locks. They shine in the sun, and everyone's awestruck. Mercedes is delighted.

(he still refuses to change the haircut, though...)

Everyone collectively decides to look out for the younger members of each house, namely Ashe and Lysithea, even though they really don't need help.

Some creepy old man is seen approaching Lysithea? Suddenly you hear five swords being drawn around the corridor.

(They appreciate it, if a bit grumpily.)

When Lorenz wants to gift flowers to woo a lady, he always goes to Dedue. Dedue helps him the best he can, and the flowers are fantastic, but it's still not enough :(

The Golden Deer throw the best parties, so whenever they've got one going in their common room, you'll find the other houses desperately knocking on their door.

"Let us in! LET US IN!!!" - Sylvain and Caspar

In mock battles, everyone has a lot of fun chasing after their friends on the opposing house.

Ferdinand, since he can't fight Edelgard, chases after Sylvain instead, and makes sure he uses his best weapons on him.

Whenever each house is deployed on a field study, the other houses are like:

"HAH! Hope you all lose!... but stay safe. BUT I HOPE YOU FAIL."

#fire emblem three houses #fe16 #headcanons #woo this was fun

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fillianore-moved · 5 years

Text

this is just a very long and unfortunate list of incorrect quotes i’ve compiled for the fe3h squad + my oc (aka cassia montal, who’s the assistant teacher at the monastery and is romancing jeritza)! i just needed a way to develop her and all the relationships there more, and this is the result, so it’s completely self-indulgent, lazy and frankly pretty silly, but still i had fun and developed her and her relationships a lot during this process! @highoverseer and @koroleyva i’m tagging you two because idk anyone else who’d care at all for this flaming pile of trash packed into a fe3h package uwu 🌷🌼🌸

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

byleth: how long have you been sleeping with cassia?

jeritza: that’s disgusting. and wrong. i don’t even get… why would... i…i’ve never had sex with anyone, anywhere. it’s none of your… you have… the nerve, the audacity… cassia is my colleague, technically. and she is terrible, face-wise. and how… how... do i know, frankly, that you’re not sleeping with her? maybe you are. maybe you’re trying to throw me off? hmm? check and mate.

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

cassia dies.

annette is sobbing

dimitri is heartbroken

edelgard is trying to do a satanic ritual with hubert to bring her back

claude is stapling memes to her coffin

-----------

byleth: you dropped your dyn- dy- dyna… mite…

byleth: uh… what else have you got in there?

cassia: oh… gunpowder, nitroglycerin, notepads, fuses, wicks, glue, and… paperclips. big ones.

cassia: uou know. just office supplies.

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cassia to annette: when you turn 18, people are gonna try and tell you to buy drugs or cigarettes because you can. no. you know what else is legal to buy at 18? blades. get yourself a damn sword. a big knife is also okay.

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cassia: we both look very beautiful tonight.

jeritza: you know, if you- if you’d just said I look beautiful, I would’ve said “so do you”.

cassia: i couldn’t take that chance.

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dorothea: you need a hobby.

cassia: i have a hobby.

dorothea: staring at jeritza’s face isn’t a hobby.

cassia: you’re right. it’s a profession and i excel at my job.

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cassia, looking in the mirror at 3am trying to practice self love: you’re doing great you stupid bitch..

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manuela: i didn’t want to do this, but i know one way we can get the money.

cassia: you’d make a decent prostitute.

manuela: i’d make an amazing prostitute, but i was actually talking about this guy I know.

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byleth: admit it! you like cassia!

jeritza: oh, come on. i mean, am i attracted to cassia? sure. do my days feel better when I’m around her? yeah. does she get me in ways no person ever has? indubitably. do i fantasize about her? sure, of course, but only in two positions. but do I like her? the answer is no.

-----------

cassia: when have i done anything rash or irresponsible?

claude: i keep a list if you wanna see. it’s alphabetized.

-----------

byleth: whose turn is it to give the pep-talk?

cassia: (sighing) felix’s…

felix: fuck shit up out there, but don’t die.

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

annette: is anyone else scared?

cassia: not really. i’ve already lived longer than i expected.

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

flayn: what is the best way to kill someone?

byleth: kindness.

cassia: If we’re being stealthy, potassium cynaite. otherwise, anything from a knife to a bazooka works...

-----------

cassia: *crying*

byleth: i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties of your life

cassia: you are the WORST at this comfort thing

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claude: if edelgard, dimitri and i were drowning, who would you save?

cassia: you morons can’t even swim?

edelgard: teacher, it’s a hypothetical question.

dimitri: yeah, who would you save?

cassia: my time and effort.

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annette: The cookie isn’t sweet enough, and the texture is runny because it’s not fully baked. if I have to rate this, i would give it three points.

cassia: i made it myself…

annette: it’s out of three points.

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edelgard: if I ask you a boy question, will you promise not to be weird?

cassia: i promise.

edelgard: so, there’s this guy-

cassia: you can do better.

-----------

cassia, torturing a prisioner: we have ways of making you talk…

cassia: flayn, what are you doing here? you’re not allowed in here

flayn: (hands her a drawing)

cassia: did you draw this? this is so good! i promise we’ll hang it in the entrance of the dungeon so everyone can see it before they get tortured!

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sylvain: i rarely give compliments, teacher, but that shirt looks great. i bet it would look even better on byleth’s assistant’s bedroom floor.

jeritza: …

cassia: sylvain, are you … hitting on jeritza for me?

-----------

cassia: it’s hard being byleth’s assistant teacher sometimes, but i love the my students and that’s all that-

caspar, in the background: teacher cassia! I tried to make spaghetti in the coffee pot and accidentally broke it!

cassia: *inhales*

-----------

post time-skip, black eagles route

cassia: i need some peace and quiet...

edelgard: i’ll be quiet!

hubert: and i’ll be peace!

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jeritza: everything’s going to be fine. it’s just a crush.

cassia: hey, jeritza!

jeritza: i love you.

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

post time-skip, blue lions route

dimitri, talking about cassia: i know you think my judgment’s clouded because i like her a little bit.

dedue: you doodled your wedding invitation

dimitri: no, that’s our joint tombstone.

dedue: ... my mistake.

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

post time-skip, hubert’s support

edelgard: (whispering to hubert) start with a compliment! tell her she looks thin.

hubert: (to cassia) you seem malnourished.

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

post time-skip, edelgard’s support

ferdinand, watching cassia train: she can’t be good at everything. maybe she’s a bad kisser.

edelgard: no, she’s good at that too.

ferdinand: what?

edelgard: what?

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

sylvain: I'm grounded?

cassia: yes, you're grounded.

byleth: you disobeyed an order.

dimitri: and now we're going to bury you until you learn your lesson.

cassia:

byleth: dimitri, that's not how grounding works.

-----------

dorothea: i promised byleth we wouldn’t do anything illegal.

cassia:

cassia: Why would you lie to our resident parental figure like that?

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linhardt: i slept for almost 12 hours but I might still be tired so let’s go for 12 more just in case

cassia: linhardt that’s a coma

linhardt: sounds festive

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

cassia: don’t worry, i have a permit.

seteth: …this just says ‘i do what i want.’

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

cassia: there are no mistakes, just happy little accidents

cassia: ... and lorenz

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

post time-skip, golden deer route

cassia: this is it

cassia: this is the darkest timeline

hilda: we just ran out of alcohol you dramatic little bitch

-----------

post time-skip, blue lions route

felix: cassia?

cassia, sighing: jeritza used to call me cassia…

felix: because it’s your fucking name

----------

cassia: WHO THE FUCK ATE ALL MY MACAROONS?! IM GOING TO KI-

annette: it was me.

cassia: KISS YOUR HEAD SO SOFT BABY, YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU THE MOST RIGHT?

---------

post time-skip, black eagles route

edelgard: so what are we gonna do?

cassia: i don’t know... pizza maybe?

edelgard:

hubert:

ferdinand:

edelgard: about the war, cassia

----------

during a mock battle

ferdinand: start waving your white flag!

hilda: THE ONLY THING I WILL BE WAVING IS YOUR DECAPITATED HEAD ON A STICK IN FRONT OF YOUR WEEPING MOTHER.

cassia: ... Yikes...

----------

cassia: hey flayn, do you think I could fit fifteen macarons into my mouth?

seteth: you're a hazard to society.

flayn: and a coward. do twenty!

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byleth: your trainee said a swear word in class.

cassia: i’ll talk to them about it..

cassia, to lysithea: what the fuck, dude...

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rhea: this was a 100% successful trip.

byleth: we lost cassia.

rhea: this was a 100% successful trip.

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sylvain, flirting with a girl: so, are you from heaven?

cassia: yes, she's a ghost...

cassia: she died fifteen years ago...

cassia: like that pick-up line of yours.

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dedue: felix lost cassia…

dimitri: how do you lose a woman?!

ashe: you forget to cherish her.

-----------

cassia: you like me? you like my personality?

byleth: i was surprised too.

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lysithea: [covers cassia’s eyes] guess who? she’s sweet, she’s adorable~

lysithea: and she’s gonna be really mad if you get it wrong!

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ignatz: i lose at everything. i even lost my glasses.

cassia, staring at the glasses on top of his head: i’ll help you find them for five gold...

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jeritza: what are you, a cop? fuck off!

cassia: jeritza...

jeritza: okay, sorry, one more time.

priest:

priest: do you take this woman to be y--

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rhea: cassia, can we speak privately for a minute?

cassia: ooooh, someone’s in trouble!

cassia : no, wait.

cassia : it’s me.

----------

cassia: wait, stop, think!

caspar: no, no, and no.

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bernadetta: i’m just worried about hurting their feelings!

cassia: hurting their feelings…? you just walk around all day caring about peoples’ feelings?

bernadetta: yes, of course. don’t you?

cassia: no.

-----------

byleth: you’re smiling, did something good happen?

cassia: can’t I just smile because I feel like it?

dorothea: seteth tripped and fell in the courtyard.

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

claude: i trust cassia.

hilda: you think she knows what she’s doing?

claude: ... i wouldn’t go that far.

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cassia: oh, yes, i’ll live.

cassia: but i won’t enjoy it.

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cassia: you piss me off so much.

rhea: i literally just said “hello.“

cassia: yet here i am, boiling with rage.

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cassia: don’t worry, you’ve got everything you need to defeat them.

marianne: the power to believe in myself?

cassia: no, a knife.

cassia: stab them.

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petra: i’ve never done anything wrong in my life

cassia: i know this and i love you

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ignatz: *trips on nothing*

cassia: ha, you’re so clumsy.

(5mins later)

cassia: *aggressively punching the air* what’s your–fucking problem huh?? what–did he ever–do to you??

-----------

byleth: now we’re going to compliment the person to our right.

cassia: *looks at seteth fondly*

cassia: nothing brightens up a room like your absence.

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

shady guy, coming up to cassia: if you care about your student you’ll come with me..

cassia: which student?

shady guy: lorenz hellman gloucester

cassia:

cassia: *turns around and walks away*

-----------

cassia: did it hurt?

jeritza: *rolls eyes* let me guess, when i fell from heaven?

cassia: no

jeritza: what?

cassia, grinning: did it hurt when you fell for me?

jeritza: ...

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

marianne: does this make me a bad person?

cassia: marianne, there is not a force in history that could make you a bad person...

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cassia: you and me? we both want the same thing.

cassia: but we’re gonna have to work... near each other.

seteth: you mean together, cassia?

cassia, turning around angrily: did you hear me say together??

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cassia: annette’s at that very special age where she has only one thing on her mind.

manuela: boys?

cassia: murder.

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cassia: *hugs dimitri*

dimitri: what's this? what's happening?

cassia: it's going to be alright.

dimitri: why are you squeezing me with your body?

cassia: it's a hug, dimitri. i'm hugging you.

-----------

cassia: claude, can we talk, one ten to another?

claude: i’m an eleven, teacher, but continue.

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mercedes: oh fiddlesticks.

cassia: look, i understand this is a tense situation but let's watch the fucking language.

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linhardt: i’m busy.

cassia: do you think drinking 36 glasses of wine consecutively would make my battle senses and crest powers even more heightened or would I just die?

linhardt:

linhardt: i’m on my way.

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cassia: we’re engaged

jeritza: IN COMBAT

jeritza: *pulls out his sword*

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manuela: why does everybody always assume I'm having a stroke?

cassia: age.

dorothea: diet.

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leonie: i sort of did something and i need your advice. but i don’t want a lot of judgment and criticism.

cassia: ... and you came to me?

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cassia: what do we say when life disappoints us?

dimitri: called it.

cassia: NO--

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cassia: *sees someone do something stupid*

cassia: what an idiot.

cassia: *realizes it’s sylvain*

cassia: oh, that’s my idiot.

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cassia: ferdinand, we tried things your way.

ferdinand: no, we didn't.

cassia: i did it in my head and it didn't work.

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manuela: between claude, ignatz, lorenz, and raphael - if you had to - who would you punch?

cassia: no one! they are my golden deer! my students! i wouldn't punch any of them.

manuela: lorenz?

cassia: ... yeah.

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

cassia: you need them to think that you are stronger than you actually are.

ashe: that’s what you do, right?

cassia: oh, no. my power is no illusion. i can fucking demolish you.

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

cassia: before i do anything, i ask myself, would rhea do that? and if the answer is yes, i do not do that thing.

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

flayn: do you really think we should stay outside or do you just not want to deal with this right now?

cassia: two things can be true...

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cassia: name a way to be nice to others.

dimitri: don't kill them.

cassia:

cassia: setting the bar a little low, dima, but I'll allow it.

-----------

cassia: remember that time you made me lick the swing set?

dorothea: no, i said "cassia don't lick the swing set!" then you said "don't tell me what to do!" and then you licked the swing set.

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cassia: what are the signs of depression?

byleth: why are you asking?

cassia: manuela was doing laundry earlier and she dropped a sock and i heard her say “why has the goddess forsaken me?”

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

cassia: i just realized. i had a terrible childhood.

manuela: yeah, i know.

cassia: what do you mean, “you know”?

manuela: look at the way you stand... people who had good childhoods don’t stand like that.

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

cassia: you have to learn to love yourself.

marianne: but don’t you hate yourself?

cassia: yes, but this is about you, stay focused.

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hilda (with lysithea probably): REMEMBER THE PACTS FORGED BETWEEN OUR PEOPLES LONG AGO.

cassia: stop it, it's 4 in the morning.

hilda: YOU PLEDGED ETERNAL SERVITUDE.

cassia: i did not.

hilda: IN EXCHANGE WE WOULD COME TO YOUR AID IN YOUR HOUR OF NEED.

cassia: i'm not feeding you.

hilda: REMEMBER THE PACTS.

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

annette: hey, can you do me a favor?

cassia: i’d kill for you, but go on.

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

in the garden

mercedes: annette, can you grab that hoe?

annette: *grabs cassia’s arm*

mercedes: wait, that's not what I meant...

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

flayn: hey cassia, can i go get some candy?

cassia: what did seteth say?

flayn: no.

cassia: then why do you think i’ll let you?

flayn: because seteth’s not the boss of you.

cassia, internally: it’s a trap it’s a trap it’s a trap

-----------

dorothea: if I die, my ghost is gonna haunt you!

cassia: then your ghost is going to see some disgusting stuff.

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

hubert’s support in a nutshell

hubert, in the margins of his notebook: mywife is soft nd ilikeher

hubert: my wiwwwfie wife is visiting a noble family with the empress and i miss her

hubert: MY EWFIE IS HOME MY WIFE

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

felix: see? this is my “i don’t care” face.

cassia: that’s your normal face.

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

cassia: of course, i care about everyone in this house equally!

claude: we were attacked while you were away.

cassia: is marianne okay???

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cassia: if edelgard jumped off a cliff, would you?

hubert: *stares into the distance with a blank expression*

cassia: hubert!

hubert: well- er- i mean, it depends.

cassia: DON’T JUMP OFF A CLIFF!

hubert: well, i wasn’t planning on it.

cassia: but if edelgard did, you would!?

hubert: *stares into the distance yet again*

cassia: HUBERT!

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

lysithea: if i run and leap at cassia, she will almost certainly catch me in her arms.

lysithea: COMING IN! *runs at cassia*

cassia: NO! I’M HOLDING COFFEE!

cassia: *drops the cup and catches her*

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

leonie: why are you helping me so much?

cassia: because my life is a mess right now and i compulsively take care of other people when i don’t know how to take care of myself.

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hubert’s support, post time-skip

dorothea, barging into the library: you two ARE having sex!

hubert: really? cassia, why didn’t you tell me? i would’ve put my book down.

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cassia: we have fun, don’t we?

ashe: i have never been more stressed out in my entire life.

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cassia: why are we laying on the ground?

sylvain: you got knocked down so i laid next to you so everyone would just think we were chillin’.

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

petra: i did something terrible.

cassia: it’s okay, i have a shovel.

petra: wait, what do you think i did?

cassia: it doesn’t matter, no one will ever know.

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

seteth: time for bed.

flayn: cassia says that I can stay up as long as I want, and YOU need to die.

seteth:

seteth: what the heck, cassia-

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

ingrid: i think rhea is in trouble!

cassia: alright... struggling to give a fuck, if i’m honest.

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marianne: i made a friendship bracelet for you!

cassia: i’m not really a jewelry person.

marianne: oh, you don’t have to wear it.

cassia: no, back off, i’m gonna wear it forever.

-----------

manuela: i’m playing a new drinking game. it’s called “Every time i’m depressed, i take a drink.”

dorothea: that game exists. that’s called alcoholism.

manuela and cassia: *take a swig simultaneously*

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

during hubert’s support

cassia: i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

hubert: i’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you?

cassia: yes.

hubert: … now i’m starting to feel a little sorry for you.

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

cassia: alright, listen up you little shits.

cassia: not you, bernadetta. you’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

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

cassia: do you ever wanna talk about your emotions, felix?

felix: no.

sylvain: i do!

cassia: we know, sylvain.

sylvain: i’m sad...

cassia: we know, sylvain.

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

cassia: since when is babysitting them my—

cassia: oh, my god, that’s exactly my job.

#i'm trying to pinpoint her personality and i finally think i've got it #so like... just a completely self indulgent long list of convos that never took place #obv these are from various different tv shows/movies/books/etc #also if anyone already used these in a similar manner - sorry also we've ascended #for everyone who knows anything about the game - i have like 10 s support routes prepared for her akljdkksj because no control thot life #THIS IS A WIP and i'll add more of these from time to time~#oc: cassia montal

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