#fe3h felix x reader

[fiction-box]

Hello! I would like to request F!Reader x Felix

It is the Winter Ball. One of them is weary of the dancing, the crowds and the merriment and decides to take refuge in the Training Grounds - only to find that the other had the exact same idea. They decide to do something that's more fun than dancing - a sparring match. Bonus points if reader is wearing a fancy gown the whole time.

Whenever your time allows - thank you in advance!

You are very welcome, and I would like to thank you for being respectful of my time.

I seem to be on a roll with these longer stories. I don't know why - more ideas just keep pouring into my head, and of course I want to do every conflict justice.

Thank you for giving me freedom with perspective! I wanted to write something from the view of Felix since I had yet to truly write for him.

Requests are open. The story will continue under the cut.

You stood by yourself on the sidelines of the great hall, your purple dress sparkling against the downward lighting of the chandeliers. There was nothing particularly interesting about you right now; you simply surveyed the dancers on the checkered floor. Dimitri led Mercedes through an elegant twirl, Ingrid talked Ashe through the steps of the waltz, Annette and Sylvain engaged in a heated discussion over something that probably wouldn’t matter in about fifteen minutes…

…and Felix was staring at you.

The swordsman had refused to do any more than the bare minimum for the ball. That meant that despite his suit - one required by the Archbishop’s insipid dress code - his hair remained up off his neck, and his back pressed against the wall.

Dorothea had been making eyes at him from across the room for the past three minutes now. Felix told himself that was the reason he kept staring at you. If he and the songstress never made eye contact, she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Besides, she didn’t seem interested in asking anyone to dance; the brunette would only be accepting such invitations tonight.

Why the hell did he even care?

He didn’t, but he followed your line of sight to Dimitri. The boar switched partners to lead Hilda around the floor, an exchange initiated by the up-tempo of the cello and Mercedes’ apparent request for a break.

Why the hell did you even care?

…did you-?

“Jeez Felix, you’re so obvious.”

Sylvain.

“Trying to find the courage to ask her to dance?” the redhead teased. “I could help you out, you know. I’ve heard I’m an excellent wingman.”

“Do I look like I’m interested in moving right now? And since when have you ever helped anyone but yourself?”

“Ouch. I mean, you’re certainly not helping yourself- your suit coat will get wrinkled if you keep leaning against the wall like that.”

“As if I care!” Felix pushed off the wall to contest Sylvain at his full height. He did care. “There’s no point in this - we shouldn’t even be having a ball right now.”

“No- No- No- Hey look, no sweat, okay?” Sylvain verbally backpedaled, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulder to guide him toward the refreshments. Subtly, he ran his hand along the wrinkles of his coat to smooth them out as they walked, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but soirées like these don’t happen very often.”

“So?”

“So, you have just as good a reason to be here as everyone else in this room. You can wait however long you want before asking anyone you want to dance, but it’s pretty frowned upon to return to a party once you leave, you know?”

The heir of Gautier knew him too well. Nonetheless, he did make a good point. There was no need to rush to be flustered - he probably had an hour before the final dance of the night.

A drink found his hand, and the two nobles took up a space several paces away from the table. Felix couldn’t stop his eyes from searching for your shimmering gown.

You were still standing alone, still watching the dancers.

At least your eyes weren’t fixed on the boar this time. The son of Count Gloucester glided a blue-haired lady across the floor, her dress trumpeting as he gracefully led her back and forth. Your attention followed their sweeping motions.

Maybe you really did just want to dance.

His classmate’s hand came to rest on his shoulder again, “I’m just saying, you hate to see it, Felix. A beautiful girl like that, standing all by herself. You better make a move before someone else does - or before I take too much pity on her and ask her myself.”

He had called you a girl, “Stay away from her.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you, kay?”

But he headed the opposite direction. The bluenette watched him connect with a pouting Dorothea, immediately starting some banter he was sure he couldn’t care less about.

Felix found himself growing impatient, despite everything his friend said moments ago. If he was going to do this, he might as well get it over with now. That way the two of you would either get as much time as possible to spend together, or he could end his attendance at this event because the one reason for which he cared to stay wanted nothing to do with him.

Only, there was no place to put his drink.

Since you were standing by the southern entrance, and he loitered near the drinks at the western wall, you could see him out of your peripheral. That meant you could catch him too easily if he were to look at you again. Not that it wasn’t already considered rude to stare.

Taking a sip of the cool, vanilla drink, his mind began to think it through a bit. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to make eye contact. It would give him an excuse to approach you.

And another thing - although you hadn’t been alone the whole ball, you hadn’t been approached by any men, either. Even working to put his bias out of the way, you were objectively attractive. It didn’t-

Goddess, and you belonged to a house in the kingdom, too. A young, available, attractive noblewoman standing by herself at - judging the crowd - the largest social event of the season.

A mumbled ‘What the hell…?’ parted his lips as he surveyed the room again. He might actually understand Sylvain, for once. Logically, this whole scenario didn’t connect.

Finally finishing his drink and handing off the glass, he found it in himself to turn to face you.

You were not there.

His heart skipped a beat before his gaze scanned the dance floor for your dress, your hair, anything. Upon coming up empty, his mind shoved one thought to the front of his mind.

You left the ball.

Again, why? There were too many important people here for you to just up and leave. You hadn’t tried to mingle this whole time, content with simply watching everyone else twirl about the floor. Then, the moment he became too preoccupied with his drink and with Sylvain to pay attention, you vanished.

In light of recent events, it looked like Felix was about to copy you.

With no further reason to stay, he tried not to make a show of striding to the southern entrance. The last thing he wanted was for someone to chase him out or call him back in, especially if that person had red hair or…or connections to the Mittelfrank Opera Company.

His feet instinctively wound the path to the training grounds. He needed to blow off some steam and get out of his head so he could get some proper rest tonight. Even so, if his mind wouldn’t relent, he would work his body so hard that he’d sleep as soon as he finished bathing himself.

Music trailed him, but it couldn’t compete with the creak of the doors to the training grounds. Once the door shut behind him, Felix was well and truly alone. The notes of the orchestral violins couldn’t penetrate the thick wood and metal, and no one else had any reason to come here tonight.

Still, his actions quickly caught up with him. What was he doing here? Why did it feel like he was running away?

Get a grip.

He wasn’t running away, he just wasn’t wasting time, either. Heading to the rack, Felix grabbed a steel sword. It didn’t matter which one, so long as it was heavy.

The sand of the center pit caved beneath his feet. There was no need for a training dummy to warm up. Routinely, Felix swung the sword over his head. His arms needed to be steady even while his attacks retained momentum and strength.

…10…11…12…

Any time a thought of the ball wormed its way into his head, Felix would shove it out. No point in dwelling on his failure to act - the two of you were far too young for anything serious to happen. No need to worry about Sylvain finding you - after what he said earlier, there was no way he would leave all the other ladies in that room for the one he knew Felix was interested in. He knew Sylvain that well, at least.

…57…58…59…

Why the hell wasn’t this working? Usually he could focus on this. This one thing that belonged to him, that he had done endlessly before that insufferable ball, and that he would continue to endlessly pursue after it. His training should belong to him! This was supposed to be how he grounded himself.

Felix was having a very difficult nig-

The doors to the entrance groaned, a delicate piano solo floating in through the opening as the moonlight guided a figure into the facility.

Upon recognition of the shimmer of your gown, the swordsman lowered the weapon from above his head.

…82…?

Thoughtful of the ongoing formal, you pivoted around the door, slowly and mindfully closing it in an apparent attempt to make as little noise as possible. Finally, you exhaled and turned to the center of the grounds.

“Oh- I- Sorry! Sorry, I’ll go.”

But your eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light of the torches from the darkness outside, so your eyelashes fluttered as you reached past the door.

“No need,” Felix frowned. “You chose to come here, I don’t own the place.”

“Wait, Felix?” you marveled, turning back around only to blink against the light again. “I didn’t recognize you. I thought you were someone on maintenance.”

What. “What kind of maintenance staff wears a suit?”

“I didn’t get a good look, okay?” you defended, your eyes finally staying open and guiding you to where he currently stood.

Being this close to you now…it felt strange. Your makeup had been expertly applied, supposedly with help from Mercedes and Annette, the tailoring of your dress was much more obvious…

“But why are you here? You’re dressed for the ball, and I remember seeing you when I walked in.”

“You first,” he countered. “What did you think you were going to accomplish here in an evening gown?”

That caught you off guard. Your eyes found a spot on the ground beside you before trailing to the wall.

“I don’t know. I didn’t really have a plan. I’m not even sure why I’m here - I just feel like I’m supposed to be.”

His eyes narrowed, “What, are you trying to trick me into thinking this was fated or something?”

Your gaze drew back to him, confusion etched across your face.

“What?”

“Sylvain must have said something to you then, is that it?”

But you only looked more lost than you did before, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Sylvain and I haven’t spoken since…” your line of sight shifted above his head and slightly to the side, “…two days ago…? Professor Byleth puts us on stable duty every few days.”

The bluenette’s knuckles turned white as he clenched the hilt of his sword. Sylvain never said anything about this. Felix had no clue you were spending so much time together.

“Forget it,” he insisted, “you’re here, so we might as well do something productive. Spar with me.”

“In an evening gown? You practically said it yourself, I can’t do anything wearing this.”

Goddess save him, he did not know how to handle this situation. In terms of guiding the conversation, he did not think this through. There didn't seem to be a way for him to keep changing the subject or coming up with an idea for you to stay here, either.

All his defense mechanisms were failing, and he was becoming frustrated.

“Okay, your turn,” you crossed your arms, saving him for a moment. “Why did you leave the ball to come here?”

“There wasn’t a reason for me to stay, anymore.”

Some of the light in your eyes dimmed, just enough for him to catch it happening. Just enough to make him wonder why.

“Hang on,” he recovered, “you know I left to come here.”

“That’s not a question,” you affirmed.

“But you didn’t leave to come here. So why weren’t you at the ball?”

Your brows furrowed slightly, “I was at the ball-“

“No, you left before I did,” he asserted. “What were you doing in the time before you arrived here?”

Perhaps he was revealing too much. It shouldn’t matter anyway, and a normal person wouldn’t care this much. Even so, if you wanted to say you were just “called to be here”, he could reasonably contest that any information was up for grabs.

The way you stared at him had a way of making his neck warm. It was like you thought the answers were hidden in his eyes, your gaze focused as you supposedly retraced your night.

“Well, I did leave the ball for a little bit…” you recalled slowly.

After allowing you a moment, he pressed a bit, “Why?”

“Oh- Well, um…I needed to use the ladies’ room? At least, that’s the only other time I can remember leaving.”

The ladies’ room…?

Goddess, he was such a fool.

It was his turn to turn his head to the side, “I see.”

If his eyes could have burned the sand, the whole pit would be glass right now. 

His thoughts were quickly interrupted. Out of the corner of his eye, Felix noticed you slipping off your shoes.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” you started, kicking the raised flats to the side before picking up a training lance from where someone had discarded it, “this dress doesn’t have sleeves, and I figured that if I took my shoes off, it would be easier to move. The slit up my leg should keep me mobile enough, so long as I don’t have to run.”

Damn, you were actually going to do this.

You lowered into a fighting stance upon returning to the pit opposite him. A smile lighting up your face.

“The sand feels so weird. It makes me wonder if this is what the beach feels like.”

But the two of you lived in Faerghus your whole lives, so he couldn’t tell you.

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re dressed differently.”

“Right, then let’s get started.”

You looked prepared to assume the defensive position; a smart move, considering that too much movement might mean you would slip on the long fabric of your clothing.

Felix far from opposed. He was used to being the offense, anyway.

Placing one foot in front of the other, he crossed the grounds and held his sword up to strike. Quick and easy - the point would go to him before you could even-

Your eyes widened, “Felix, wait! Don’t-!”

He hadn’t registered your words fast enough to stop himself. Intuitively, you held your lance up to defend yourself, and that’s when Felix realized what you were so worried about.

The weapon he was using wasn’t meant for sparring.

Breaking above your head, the wooden pole of your lance gave in. Felix stumbled forward, fighting for his balance as you rolled to the side in an attempt to protect your head.

He hissed, cursing himself for making such an amateur (and deadly) mistake, “Damn, my bad.”

“Goddess,” he heard you breathe, your eyes wide from your position on the ground, “I thought I was about to die.”

That was a thought. His eagerness to train and avoid an awkward encounter with you nearly...well, it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Leaving you to get yourself up, he moved to trade the steel sword for a wooden one. The noble also elected to take off his blazer and leave it behind, giving his arms better range of motion.

Turning back around, he noticed you were still struggling to rise to your feet.

“Seriously? It can’t be that hard.”

But just watching you made him want to take it back. The sand had become uneven from when you dodged toward the ground, and your dress kept finding its way under your feet whenever you tried to stand. Whenever you pooled the fabric out of the way in one area, it only gathered in another to slide under you. Not to mention that after so much struggle, the yellow grains were all over your skin and gown. It looked uncomfortable, at best.

Frowning, Felix approached, “Hang on.”

With your consent, he placed his hands at your waist and lifted you to the point you could stand again. You thanked him, a light flush on your cheeks that he tried not to think too hard about.

“I’d say that was embarrassing,” you started, “but considering I very nearly earned a trip to Manuela a moment ago, I don’t think I should care.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Nothing bad came of it, so I don’t mind. Still, you should work on your etiquette.”

The swordsman raised a brow, “Excuse me?”

“You left me to fend for myself in the sand for two minutes while you went to exchange your sword and take off your coat. It’s like I’m not even here,” you teased, approaching the training racks. “And then not only did you prioritize your sword over helping me, but you couldn’t even grab me a new lance.”

“I’m here to fight, nothing else. If you have a problem with that, no one’s forcing you to stay.”

In all fairness, you were right. He was too wrapped up in being with you to register that he was about to hurt you, and then he was too worried about how he almost hurt you to remember to help you back up again.

Why was he so bad at this?

Thankfully, you seemed to ignore the more bitter parts of his previous statement and took it for what it was - a proposition to rematch.

You found your places opposite one another, preparing for a genuine spar. Felix watched you sink into your defensive position again, nodding to confirm you were ready. 

This time when he charged, his sword remained in a lower position. He wanted to slice upwards, reading your potential roll to the side while still being ready to follow up swiftly.

The moment he brought the sword up into you, you pivoted and thrust the lance forward. It would have technically impaled him, but you were courteous enough (and skilled enough) to angle the weapon so it slid against his side instead.

Felix halted the momentum of his arms, bringing them down slowly and preventing the hit he would have landed on you.

“That one goes to you.”

Switching sides with you, the second son ran his hand along his side. A warmup, nothing more. You wouldn’t go down easy, and neither would he.

You were once again prepared, and Felix signaled that the second round had begun, but he did not rush forward. If you wanted to hit him, you would need to put yourself at risk.

It didn’t take long for you to catch on, though you make a point to approach at a casual walk.

“Are you serious?”

“Are you? You think I’m foolish enough to run at you after I couldn’t stand on my own? If you wanted to go fast, you should have taken up offense again.”

Once you were close enough, you suddenly lunged twice and brought your lance down and across his body. Felix lept back before charging forward, but you came in with a block.

You held strong against his resistance, but your feet couldn’t find a proper stance thanks to your limited range of motion. He probably had your fear of slipping on the fabric again to thank, as well.

Deliberately, Felix stepped on your dress.

A gasp parted your lips as the heels of your feet slid forward. You fell backward only for Felix to step forward and catch you, one arm around your back, one hand holding his sword to your throat.

“Th-that’s not fair, and you know it,” you protested, breaths quickened from the adrenaline of almost falling.

“You chose to come fight in this. You think your opponent is going to care how you’re dressed?”

After a moment, you relented, “Fine, you win this one.”

Usually, Felix would be okay with the “whatever means necessary” ideology. When it came to you, however, it only worried him. Did he really need you to have a disadvantage for him to win?

He lowered you to the ground before picking you up again, presuming you would take longer to regain your footing if he left you on the sand. You were set upright on your feet at the solid edge of the pit.

As he reached the other side of the sands, he noted that you still looked bitter - probably about the last point. Perhaps that could work in his favor.

However, even after several seconds, the emotion in your eyes didn’t go away. You appeared almost…insulted?

In the back of his mind, he retraced his steps. You yielded the point how you normally would, and you weren’t a sore loser. You appeared more baffled than anything when he had tripped you…

Shit.

Felix had completely manhandled you out of the training area.

And that would explain why you were simultaneously glaring daggers into him and scanning him up and down.

“Don’t worry, I’ll attack this time,” the bluenette managed. In fear of being wrong and coming off egotistical, that was probably the best apology he could give right now.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

No, you were decidedly not happy.

He approached, trying to build as much momentum as possible before choosing to open with a block. If you were looking to parry an attack, he would be left with an opening. If you were looking to block him too, he would likely knock you to the ground and gain the point.

Maybe then he could offer to help you up properly.

No, he needed to stay focused. He was training right now, not apologizing.

Effectively distracted, neither of his plans came to fruition as you reached out and grabbed his cravat, pulling it down and causing him to run past you.

“Wh-!”

A dull stab at his back shoved him out of bounds, taking away any chance he had at regaining his balance. He tumbled to the ground.

“You’ve been impaled, that’s mine.”

He wanted to be mad, but he was more shocked than anything. After all, he could hardly complain after doing a similar thing to you last round.

A hand in his peripheral offered to help him to his feet. Accepting it, he rose, picking his sword up off the ground.

At least that seemed to get everything out of your system, “Maybe you were right, we can’t really accomplish anything serious while we’re dressed like this.”

“It’s not like we…”

A song loud enough to be heard from within the training ground bounced against the walls. It caught him off guard, especially since he hadn’t been able to hear any music since you closed the doors earlier. Whatever they were playing now, the whole orchestra was involved.

“The last dance already?” your head turned to the entrance, as well. “There’s no way…”

“Did you promise someone a dance?” he guessed.

“Something like that,” you worried. “I told Annette and Mercedes that I would be sure to dance with at least someone tonight after all they did for me. I…kind of got carried away watching earlier, and then I got scared I would forget the moves, and then I left to come here.”

He didn’t know what to say, but there was no way you could go back now. Sand covered your slightly tousled hair, your gown, and he was sure it found its way into your shoes. Your cheeks were still somewhat red from earlier, and…

It was all his fault. He even stepped on your gown without thinking.

Goddess, he really needed to start using his head.

Tossing his sword into the sand, Felix took the lance from your hands and threw it aside too. Swiftly, he retrieved your shoes and placed them in front of you.

“Felix, there’s no way…” but you slid them on anyway, “…and the song already began. It will be over by the time I get there.”

Face unreadable, your classmate extended a hand to you. “Do you think it would count if we started now?”

“Wait, what? You…want to dance with me?”

“If you don’t want me to be your partner after everything that’s happened tonight, I’ll understand-“

You took his hand, placing your own on his shoulder and facing him completely, “You lead. I’m still not certain how this one goes.”

It was a lie. It must have been. The moment the pair of you felt the music together, you were off. The strings followed a simple waltz - an accessible dance that even most commoners could perform. An obvious choice for the last dance of the night.

He knew his frame to be stiff, but it didn’t matter. Especially not when you were so blatantly stealing the hypothetical show, swaying and leaning back as the two of you spun gracefully around an invisible point on the ground. Your arms barely ghosted his own.

In a rare moment, he wished his dance partner were less aware, less experienced. He wanted you to lean on him so he could lead you through the dance, but he knew that was not in your nature.

You were charming, assured, and independent. The dance belonged to you, so much so that he felt like a mere prop. He supposed that was how it went in the theatres Sylvain had always dragged him to in the past. The women stole the spotlight while the men were evaluated on how good they could make their partners look.

There was no doubt. You deserved a better partner.

“Hey,” his voice was unsure. It had been several measures since he last used it. “I…you shouldn’t be dancing with me.”

“What are you talking about?” you smiled, coming back to his chest and resuming your normal posture.

“I mean you should be in the great hall, dancing with someone that would actually do you justice,” he suddenly didn’t want to face you. “I feel like I took that away from you. I spend all my time here working with a sword - my last dancing lesson ended when I was twelve.”

He stopped himself, spinning you away before he could say too much. This was about you. You had missed what could have been one of the biggest days of your life. He pulled you back in and met your eyes. Felix missed an event he already planned on skipping.

“...it’s nice. I prefer it. This way it’s just us.”

“Just us?” he hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat.

“Oh- I only mean- I don’t have to worry about anyone staring at me because I don’t know the steps or anything.”

It was beginning to make him angry, if only because it made no sense, “Why do you keep saying that?”

You were caught off guard, slipping up for the first time tonight. Felix finally felt useful, steadying you enough to fall back into the orchestra’s rhythm.

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” you lowered your voice like you were telling him a secret. “That’s what my sister told me. She and everyone that visited the manor.”

Blinking a bit, you turned to the side, “I’m doing it wrong. My steps are too wide. My arms are too heavy. I must be repulsed by my partner if I’m leaning back that much. Those kinds of things.”

Your partner merely scoffed, “Jealous.”

He hadn’t meant for it to slip out, but he knew.

“They can’t do what you can. There are nobles all over Fodlan like that; people who don’t like being shown up. They’ll say anything to make you give up or feel bad about yourself, but they lack the ambition to do any better themselves.”

“You really think so?”

“Have you met anyone better at dancing than yourself?”

“Well, I…I’ve never seen myself dance before.”

“Then take my word for it. Show Professor Byleth if you doubt it, but just be prepared for her to demand a rematch for the Heron Cup.”

Honestly, Felix didn’t know why he was being so forward about this. It was just another unjust part of the world they were all tripping over themselves to fix, he supposed. Still, if dancers could be trained for the battlefield, he saw no reason for his house to settle on an amateur.

The piano slowed to play a few high notes and end the song on a major chord. Accordingly, the two of you came to a stop.

“Thank you,” you stepped away timidly, “for the dance…and…”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel better. Manuela could teach you - you could do this on the battlefield much better than whoever actually won the competition.”

You hummed, probably pondering the thought.

Presuming it was time to head back before you both could be found and accused of something mindless, Felix picked up your weapons from where he had discarded them. He caught you brushing the sand off your skin and down your dress before he left to put the items away. The blazer he set aside earlier found its way to his back again, his cravat tucked in appropriately.

You waited across the hall to hold the door for him. Once you both walked through, it shut with a final thud, sealing away everything that happened in the training grounds that night.

He saw you talking to Professor Byleth after class the next day. Although he couldn’t hear what you were saying, some part of him hoped you chose to take his words to heart.

Perhaps it had been a good time to host a ball.

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

hey!!!! I love ur blog!! please would I be able to have some enemies-to-lovers headcanons for Felix, Sylvain, dimitri and Ingrid? Post time skip. Thank you

{Hello! Uhm, so...I was going through my unfinished drafts and saw that I had begun this but never finished it. I completed Felix's but never got past! It's a l s o more of an imagine than a headcannon. Apparently younger me saw an opportunity and went ham. I don't know when i'll ever get around to sylvain/dimitri/ingrid...but I hope this little Felix offering is something you'll like!}

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers

Master List: Here

"A Lack of Feeling" {Felix x Reader}

Everyone is this man's enemy. End of story.

……

Alright, maybe not everyone but there are more on the list than not. If Felix was an NPC in an RPG, then his affection meter towards anyone he meets beyond childhood begins at -50 points. No exceptions. (at least this is what he wants people to believe)

Normally if someone spends enough time with him they can earn his good graces, you know? At the very least get him on neutral ground, it's only natural after all that time investment

This applies to most cases with Felix

"Most" being a key word here

There are three special cases: the Prince of Fargeus, his loyal pet, and one other emotionally constipated hindrance

Deep down Felix knew that he truly did not detest the first two. The situation involving them was more complicated than his mind could handle during his youth, so until he aged and saw proof of Dimitri's willpower his feelings remained sour. Throughout it all he still had a definite idea of how to view them both and could predict their moves like a book.

The third? Not so much. It seemed like the more time Felix spent observing them, the more he grew unsettled. Nothing they did let any insight to their own emotions or thoughts. All he could learn through the grape vine were blatant facts: their birthday, hometown, etc. Nothing personal. Everything felt…fake? Staged? As if their personality was being written up off the top of someone's head in a book.

Felix couldn't trust them, no matter how much the professor, Sylvain, or anyone else tried to convince him. Rather than antagonize them like he did with Dimitri, Felix chose to flat out ignore their presence.

"My name is Felix, and if you're wise then you won't ever need to use it"- he spoke upon meeting, and that was it.

What he found the most odd was that they simply ignored his hostility. Not in a way to challenge him, or in disinterest, but with acceptance. Any attempt on being friends was made by others on their behalf.

They weren't pushy, he'd give them that. He didn't feel guilty since they clearly had no interest in him either.

Until one late evening a few dawns after Edelgard's betrayal, he had found flowers on every grave within the monestary. It was a chance sight since he'd accidentally spend too long in the sauna, but walking through the Cemetery showed even the most ancient stones with offerings. With dates older than any person in the castle, they likely hadn't been visited in years.

And at the end of it all sat his one-sided enemy. The supposedly empty shell laid a bouquet on another grave and for the first time he saw them cry.

"I didn't know you had the ability to cry," He approached them cautiously and against his better judgement. He instantly regretted too.

"I didn’t know you had the ability to care," they said back, much more brash than he'd ever heard before

Felix said nothing else in response…what do you say to someone after openly despising them for months on end? Did he even want to apologize?

"I don't, but you look more suspicious than usual" he gestured to the graves surrounding them

"It's unlikely they'll be getting any visitors anytime soon…they deserve at least one last honoring,"

That night was when Felix first felt their personality, and it was scarily similar to his own

Perhaps he would have noticed it sooner if he'd tried

Perhaps the similarity is why he never did. One of him was enough

Or…was it? The drop in his chest as they began to become acquainted implied that he may have been missing out on something he'd hadn't planned to ever find

[randoimago]

hiiii may i request headcanons for dimitri, felix, and claude where they’re comforting the reader when they’re crying ?

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Character(s): Claude, Dimitri, Felix

Note(s): You got it!

Claude

He tries to make light jokes to hopefully get you to smile. Claude doesn't know why you're crying and doubts he'll get an answer while you're still crying, so jokes are his way to go.

That or holding you as he tells you about some shenanigans Hilda and Raphael got into. Or something with Dimitri and Edelgard that amused him. Just something to hopefully keep your mind off of whatever made you cry.

And then, once you're done, he asks you what happened as he leads you to the dining hall to get some food but also because something interesting always happens in the dining hall that he'd hope livens up your mood.

Dimitri

He sees you cry and he's quick to wrap his arms around you. He's so gentle as he holds you, one hand gently rubbing your back as you cry.

Dimitri doesn't really say anything while you cry. Of course he's concerned and wants to ask questions, but he'd rather you cry and let you speak when you're ready. In the meantime he'll just hold you and be with you.

Afterwards, he wipes your tears and gives a kiss to your forehead, asking if you're ready to talk about it. If not, he doesn't push the issue and will continue to stay by your side.

Felix

He's not really in tune with emotions and is initially surprised when you're crying. But then he grows angry because there's a reason you're crying and he wants to go punch that reason.

Instead he stays by your side while you cry, giving some space. When you're finished, Felix walks closer and asks what happened. He then asks if you'd like to spar to help with any lingering feelings.

If not then he'll understand and be a bit awkward with what to do, but he offers his hand to you to hold. It's a small gesture, but he still tries.

[aces-sweetheart]

How about some headcanons where Sylvain Felix and Dimitri are feeling shy around a female reader?

aaaaa three of my fav boys💖 the hcs are a bit short so i did some drabbles with them. thank you for your patience, i hope you like them! i did a gn!reader since there was nothing in the scenarios that would specify them as a fem!reader.

cw: gn!reader, sfw

sylvain

i can't really imagine sylvain getting shy around anyone lol

but he will get flustered around you if he truly likes you (and isn’t just physically attracted to you)

if you compliment him he'll be a bit thrown off but will quickly recover and compliment you back/flirt back with you

rather than getting shy, he gets nervous and tries to hide it shows this by being overly enthusiastic 

((think his s-support scene with byleth where he says he’ll go blind if he doesn’t want him to look at other girls))

sometimes it can be too much but you know he means well

“I love your hair.” Sylvain paused at your words, leaving you to walk forward without him. You turned around in confusion to see him standing still for a moment before catching up with you. He tried to play off his reaction but you could tell he was flustered. 

“I love your hair and your eyes and your outfit and your-” You cut him off with a laugh that caused him to smile sheepishly. 

“Ok I get it!”

felix

it’s hard to tell when he’s shy around you since he can be very stand offish to begin with

he won’t make an effort to speak to you if he can avoid it

if he sees you, he may go as far as to turn the other way or hide at the training grounds or in his room

he’ll ignore you but you catch him very obviously staring at you a lot before he “casually” turns around like nothing happened

For once, Felix wasn’t focusing on his training. He should have been practicing the new move he learned from Byleth before the next battle but how could he when you were mere feet from him, practicing magic? Despite the fact that you two had only had a handful of conversations, he was smitten and seeing your body move and your eyes narrow in concentration as you cast spells certainly didn’t help. His brown eyes burned holes into your back. Knowing he was watching you so intensely made you so nervous your spell completely missed the target. You instinctively turned around to see if he saw the embarrassing moment but as soon as your eyes met his, he was suddenly very interested in his sword.

dimitri

dima is painfully shy around you

he really can’t hide it if he wanted too lmao

he'll be a bit awkward around you but it’s endearing 

as much as he wants to talk to you and get to know you, he becomes too timid to try

so he ends up talking about mundane topics like the weather

save yourself the pain and lead the conversation/take charge please

Dimitri silently pleaded with the rest of the war council to stay in the room so he wouldn’t have to be alone with you. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you; it was actually the complete opposite. He liked you so much that he seemed to forget how to act and every potentially interesting conversation topic exited his mind until he was only left with subjects like the weather or what the dining hall was serving. Sylvain was the last to leave the room, throwing the blonde a wink and knowing smile over his shoulder as he walked out.  Finally it was just the two of you alone in the meeting room. You shot him a grin and he returned it with a strained tight lipped smile. 

“I hear they’re serving onion gratin soup today.” He fought the urge to cringe at his own awkwardness. It was an extremely lame attempt at small talk but judging your interested expression, you didn’t mind. You answered him by lacing your fingers with his and you leading him out the door. Pink dusted his cheeks and his eyes were wide at the sudden contact and forwardness, especially when you finally spoke.

“Why don’t we go eat together?”

[frickingnerd]

the night of the ball

pairing: felix hugo fraldarius x gn!reader

summary: felix asks you for a dance during the ball and you can't pass on the rare opportunity to see him dance

"would you like to dance?"

you almost jumped as you heard those words. being asked to dance wasn't a surprise, you were attending a ball after all. but that voice, it sounded almost like… 

"felix…?"

you stared up at your classmate, unable to do anything but just… stare at him. no, this couldn't possibly be felix. he'd never ask you to dance! felix wouldn't dance! you must've misunderstood… 

"yes, that's me. so, are we going to dance or not? because if you don't want to, i'll just go and–"

"no, i want to dance with you–!!"

if anything, you were curious. you couldn't pass up this once in a lifetime chance to dance with felix hugo fraldarius. even if you still didn't know why he'd even ask you to dance…

felix grabbed your hand, as gently as he possibly could, while leading you onto the dancefloor. on your way there, you looked into a lot of confused faces. it seems like you weren't the only one who was surprised to see felix' sudden interest in dancing. 

"so… why me?"

felix had just placed his hands on your hips, the two of you slowly started to dance, as you couldn't keep your questions to yourself anymore. 

"i always thought you hated me… so why didn't you ask annette or ingrid to dance?"

felix just huffed amused, pulling you a bit closer. 

"i don't hate you, idiot... i never have hated you"

now you were the amused one, raising an eyebrow and leaning in closer, to make eye contact with felix.

"oh sorry, i forgot you treat everyone this way~" you teased. "then let me ask instead… why don't you hate me then?"

felix glanced away, his eyes narrowing down. he didn't seem to like that question and yet he pulled himself together and answered. 

"you treat me like my own person. the others just see glenn or my father in me, but… you don't care about that. maybe you don't even care about me, but i like that!"

you hadn't expected so much honesty from felix. he was right, you didn't see him as glenn or rodrigue. you never knew them well, so there was no reason to treat felix like someone you didn't even know. 

"i'm… flattered!"

you admit, softly smiling at felix. though this only caused the boy to roll his eyes, as a small blush seemed to hush over his face. 

"just don't start treating me differently now, got it?"

[sothisblessmysoul]

Can I ask for a bouquet of flowers for the blue lions? That sounds so adorable. 🥰

(I never knew if you wanted all of them or selected few so I did all of them)

༓ʚ A Flower's Meaning ɞ༓

Summary: The Blue Lions react to you catching a bouquet at a friend’s wedding

༓Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd He watched you catch it without blinking or flinching, mainly just confused as the realization slowly took over your face as you finally met Dimitri’s gaze. There was something about how the flowers looked in your hands and the look that you gave him that made Dimitri feel so flustered. So pretty, is his single thought as Dimitri’s made his way to you, feet on autopilot.

༓Dedue Molinaro Dedue’s eyes were completely on you, holding the colorful flowers that all mean a term of love in language as everyone else is looking between you and him. He doesn’t flare up in a blush or appear startled but you can see Dedue is feeling embarrassedly flustered by the awkward stiffness of his movement as the tall man makes his way to you.

༓Felix Hugo Fraldarius Felix does not want to be here with unimportant people, if anything he wants to be comfortably at home with you. But he will admit that the other wedding is pretty. Felix wonders if you’ve ever thought about marriage, but any further thought of the subject changes when you catch the flowers that nearly smacked you in the face. The image of what you would look like holding yours flashed quickly in his thoughts as for once Felix quietly watched you.

༓Ashe Ubert A blush marked his freckled face with a happy smile but a shy expression at the teasing that Ashe knows his friends and siblings will give him as you walked over to him. Subconsciously Ashe reached out his hand for you to take, gently pulling you closer to his side as Ashe studied the flowers. The bouquet was pretty but it wasn’t your favorite, he thought to himself. The following thought is how beautiful you would look, holding your favorite flowers while neither Ashe nor you let go of each other’s hands because it felt like two missing puzzle pieces found a place to fit perfectly together.

༓Sylvain Jose Gautier Immediately starts to sweat nervously as the flowers are perfectly in your hand while his hand subconsciously touches his pocket where the ring is that he’s planning to ask your hand for later. He had been carrying it, not having a day or place in mind until right now. This is a sign, he thinks as you lock eyes with him and smile which he returns.

༓Mercedes von Martritz She was standing right beside you when you had caught the flowers, she leaned over to sniffle the flowers with a smile growing on her face as she looked up at you, pulling away from you but not before kissing your cheek. She giggled quietly at your reaction to the flowers and the kisses. She is going to tease you but this will bring up the thought of marriage and the future with her.

༓Annette Fantine Dominic Instantly a crimson blush blooms on her face as endless giggles of excited bundles of nerves, reaching how to touch one of the flowers’ petals. Annette went quiet, wondering what flowers she would pick for her wedding, she subconsciously looked at you. She isn’t going to say anything immediately today or tomorrow but there will be hints of marriage, hoping that you’ll catch on and talk about it with her.

༓Ingrid Brandl Galatea She never really thought deeply about marriage, it was just something that her father wanted for her. But when Ingrid saw your reaction to catching the bouquet to look for her and finally smiling when you found Ingrid, she wondered for a fleeting thought if you would smile like that at the altar. She can’t explain why it made her face blush although Ingrid didn’t hate that idea at all because without question she knows that Ingrid would say yes if you asked her.

[wxntxr-cxtrxs]

"make it hurt" (felix)

your hands grip the bed sheets, clawing desperately against them in search of something to ground yourself. your back arched into his touch as he thrusts his fingers in and out. you toss your head from side to side, desperately crying out. Your fingers dig into the sheets so hard the fabric threatens to tear under your hands. 

He brings his free hand up to brush yours, drawing your attention back to him. “if you want something to tear into,” he taunts, “I want it to be me.” your eyes shoot open in surprise, locking onto his. He slows the movement of his hand, waiting for your response. 

you carefully bring your hands up to his shoulders, and he returns to his ministrations- working you open on his fingers roughly. you moan once again, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescents in his skin. Noticing immediately, you try for an apology. “I’m sorry, i-” 

But the shiver that runs through him is unmistakable- as is the way he speeds up his movements to try for the same reaction. your hands flex and nails dig into him once again, your fingers tearing at him in a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure. 

He lets out a soft groan against the skin of your hip, before using the opportunity to press an open mouthed kiss into your skin. 

Still, the scrapes and scratches you deal out are guarded slightly, as if you're trying to avoid inflicting damage. One of your hands claws down his back, leaving reddened marks in its wake, but not breaking the skin. 

His moan is desperate, and he grinds his hips against the bed. “Fuck, make it hurt.”

[cxtrxs-art]

[glowingbadger]

Felix and 5 from the kink list… v///v,,, with reader in the supervisor/superior role,,,,

Ohohohoho how intriguing, I love this character/kink combination. Obviously, this will be a modern AU, so heads up about that~

Also, man, is there anything a fem person can wear that's sexier than a white blouse with a pencil skirt, tights/stockings and a pair of black pump heels? It's one of my greatest weaknesses, so if you're someone who wears fem presenting clothes, probably just envision that for Reader-chan here lol

CW: office romance, boss x employee

Felix (FE3H) x GN! Reader

Kink prompt #5 (office sex)

NSFW 18+

Felix is the only one of your coworkers with the quiet audacity to let himself into your office without so much as a knock- nevermind that, as department lead, you're technically his supervisor. His expression rests at its usual prickly default as he wordlessly nudges your door closed behind him, and you turn to face him with a single eyebrow quirked.

"We've talked about knocking," you say with a sigh, "I'd appreciate if you'd exhibit the same level of professionalism as anyone else here."

"It's nearly six," he says bluntly, one hand on his hip and the other absently tugging at his tie, loosening it just a bit, "It's not like there's anyone left to care. You're the only one still sitting around here."

"And you, apparently."

His gaze drifts absently to the bookcase beside your desk.

"Guess so."

Silent once more, he loiters near the shelves lined with books that haven't been touched for as long as you've occupied this office, and nick-nacks you'd placed haphazardly, if only because you had nowhere else to put them.

"Well... I've still got, like, two dozen e-mails to get to, so..." you trail off, a hand running through your hair as you exhale.

When Felix turns to you, he's scowling.

"You work too hard. None of the other idiots at this company put in the kind of hours that you do."

"Coming from you, that almost sounds like a compliment," you say with a weary grin.

"It's not," he replies.

Just like that, he approaches, and now he's close- far too close for an employee alone with his supervisor. You turn to face him, but end up trapped between his body and the edge of your desk pressed to the back of your thighs. Your breath catches, but you maintain composure. Or, you think you do. It's hard to keep yourself in check when you catch the way his brown eyes flicker towards your lips for just a split second.

"It's irritating," he says, his tone harsh but his voice low, "You should be delegating more of your workload. I hate seeing you here this late every day."

As he speaks, his hand is running up the side of your neck until his palm cups your jawline and his fingertips tease into your hair. His touch is gentle despite his usual harsh demeanor, and by now, you know to expect this. Felix is always gentle with you in your rare and precious time alone together, no matter how he may come across to anyone else. You smile warmly at him.

"But if I work less, you and I won't get to have these little private meetings so often."

You run a hand up the muscled abdomen you can feel through his dress shirt, then tug him closer by his tie- and he allows it, despite his wry expression.

"And I wouldn't have to come pester you like this if you didn't need to be convinced to leave your desk."

Your smile curls into a half-smirk.

"You haven't done much convincing yet, Mr. Fraldarius."

He offers no reply, but fixes his hands at your hips and turns you firmly around towards that very same vexing desk. With his body flush to yours, your ass presses firm against where you can feel his cock beginning to rise. His hands run up your sides, and you mew his name softly into the empty office.

"Quiet," he whispers against your ear, his breath tickling your skin sending a shivering tremor through you.

"No one's here..." you manage. His hands run over your chest, fingers grazing across your nipples, and your body arcs against him. His hips pitch forward, grinding his erection against you as it grows ever larger and ever more insistent.

"Could be other stragglers. Besides," he pauses to tease the shell of your ear with his teeth, "I like it when you try to keep quiet. And I like it even more when you fail."

As though to prove his point, he shifts away from you just enough to slap an open palm against your ass, forcing a whimpering moan from your lips.

"Felix..!"

He groans, but stifles the sound in the crook of your neck.

"You're... such a pain," you gasp out, "The nerve to... treat your supervisor like- mmh!"

He bites down at your shoulder muscle, and you can only imagine the kind of mark he's leaving you, with a thrill of warm arousal between your legs at the thought. Shameless hands still travel your body, slow but firm and unabashed, each inch of skin claimed only compounding your need for him. Until, finally, he begins to tug your clothes away with the kind of demanding force you've come to expect and adore from him. He's impatient, but so are you, so when he only manages to get your clothing just out of the way enough to press the tip of his cock to your entrance, you're already burning with anticipation.

"Fuck-" you inhale sharply as he pushes into you, opening you up around each inch of him. His cock throbs at your eager response, and the twitching motion just stretches you even better, rubs into you sinfully. Felix rocks his hips against you in a slow yet relentless rhythm, pushing steadily deeper until he's held inside of you to the base, your bodies nestled firmly together.

"You must be pent up," he speaks softly but plainly against your neck, "You're trembling like you already want to cum."

He's not wrong, but he doesn't have to outright say it. Your unsteady hand meets the sharp line of his jaw and travels up to his hair, holding him close as you struggle to steady your breath.

"Felix, please-"

You feel the harsh scrape of his teeth at your neck once more, and before you've even processed this sharp sensation, he pulls back, then thrusts his cock into you, deep and hard. Your hands fly to the surface of the desk beneath you to steady yourself, and as he continues to fuck you from behind, it's the only thing keeping your trembling legs from giving out. You're biting down on your lip, fighting against the cries of pleasure you so dearly want to let out. You feel his hand descend against your ass once more, then grab a handful, savoring the way your flesh fills his palm. And with that, your restraint already begins to fracture. Each time the head of his cock pounds into that sweet spot deep within you, your voice escapes in gradually clearer moans.

"That's it- come on, stop being difficult," his hands grab at your hips and pull you against him, holding you in place while his entire length lurches against your inner walls- and you moan. Fuck, you moan so loud that for a moment, you think that if there's a single soul lingering in this entire building, they must have heard you.

"There," Felix grunts- he's trying to sound firm and measured, but you can hear the way his voice wavers as you tighten and squeeze around his hard member, "See what I have to do... to get you to stop thinking about work..?"

He's definitely succeeded- you're hardly thinking about anything, let alone work. Your body is warm and your mind is buzzing with the thrill of pleasure and taboo, and it's all you can do to arch back against him once more and murmur,

"Just shut up and fuck me."

[fiction-box]

Hello hello I see requests are open 👀 I loved your "only one bed" fic w Ashe so I'm here to ask for more lol

May I get a fem or gn reader tutoring Felix and Sylvain (you can just choose one if you're not feeling inspired) in magic? If I remember correctly both of them have a budding talent in reason magic so maybe the professor saw that and assigned reader to help cultivate that talent??

Idk how much detail you like in your requests so feel free to ignore the rest of this!! But if you want more specifics maybe reader has always been a little nervous around the nobles in the BL house since they're a commoner?? And even though they have every confidence in their abilities they're not very assertive so Byleth wanted reader to learn how to take charge in a situation and actually tell people what to do lol

Thank you in advance!! :D

This is one of the reasons I value requests so much. There are so many ideas you guys come up with that I want to discover!

I took these two stories in two very different directions, but I think they both stay true to the prompt in their own way. The different sways of each story are heavily influenced on how I think one would have to interact with each character to achieve the specifics we're looking for.

In this case, I was inspired to write Sylvain's story with more edges and harsh moments, though Felix's was created with a much softer arc in mind.

Enjoy! Requests are open to all. Send in as many as you wish!

The stories will be continued under the cut.

Sylvain:

“N-No! No. Please wait!”

For what must have been the third time this session, you adjusted the position of Sylvain’s hands so that his fingers were curled inwards.

“Remember? If you don’t curl your fingers in, you aren’t directing the magic properly. That could cause the fire to spread sideways rather than forward, and then you’d be putting everyone around you in danger.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “My bad.”

You were quite certain he did remember, but you didn’t say anything about it. It was a trivial matter, really. Curling his fingers yourself every once in a while was nothing compared to what you knew he could do to you if you got even slightly too pushy with him.

“That’s alright, just…try to keep it in mind as we go through the motions, okay?”

Taking a step back, you sighed and relaxed your body a bit. You were going to make sure the only thing he lit on fire would be the target across from him. Burning down the training grounds was not an appealing idea to you.

“So, different people pull their magic from different places within them, yes? For example, Mercedes feels her magic from somewhere closer to her heart, while Annette describes her pull as somewhere within her head. Personally, I feel my own resonate within my palms.”

He nodded. Good. You were getting somewhere.

“I can’t just tell you where to pull yours from, though. What I can say is that once we find your source, the rest is easy. While we could do some research or studying to make a more educated presumption, I’ve found that the fastest method is just to guess and check.”

Sylvain stretched out his arms and hands, “Sure. Walk me through it then, professor~.”

You were just about to until he returned his hands to the wrong position. Again.

No, you were not going to sigh. You were not going to show any signs of impatience, you were simply going to breathe normally, approach him calmly, and gently reposition his hands.

And as much as the little nickname irked you, you wouldn’t say anything about that, either.

What was the scale of a commoner’s displeasure at a nickname when compared to that of the power of a noble? One with a crest, no less. He didn’t need to learn magic in order to ruin your life. Or order your death.

He certainly didn’t need to know you were intimidated by him, lest he get any ideas.

“You’re pointed at the target right now. I’ve adjusted your form so that it’s perfect. The only thing left is for you to pull the magic from your body and feel it spread into your fingertips.”

“Got it,'' he winked, then turned his eyes back to the target.

There. You were almost done. The only thing that was left was for him to find the magic. After all, you were confident in your ability to show him how to use it.

“...”

“It’s fine, don’t worry!” you reassured him frantically. Goddess knows what he might do if he thought this was your fault. “It can take a bit of time, just make sure you’re focusing on tracing it to your- NO, WAIT-!”

You rushed to his side when you noticed he had wrecked his form and yet was still trying. This time, a small flame did come out of his hands. However, thanks to his uncontrolled form, it began to widen to his sides.

“Woah. Uh, what do I do now?” he asked. A sliver of panic had slipped its way into his tone.

“Just aim at the target and imagine it shooting forward. Do it quickly; it’s too late to control the fire at this point, so we need to let it go before it-”

You let out a squeak of surprise as you watched it shoot across the room to the target. The widened flame hit it, but the fire didn’t truly catch onto the target. Though you were certain it would have missed if his form was actually correct, it had become clear what the professor had meant when she mentioned he had a “budding talent” in the art.

When you were originally assigned to work on magic with Sylvain, you had voiced your concerns to Professor Byleth.

“You want me to teach? And a noble, of all people? One that you claim has talent, yet has never even accessed his magic before?”

“Good,” she smiled, “so you heard me.”

“I…please, I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t know the first thing about teaching, or…or giving orders…or…”

“That’s why you’ll be teaching one of your classmates. It will benefit us all for you to find your backbone.”

“Well then, what about Ashe? I’ll teach Ashe, or I’ll even teach Dedue, but…it isn’t really my place to teach a noble. Besides, I have a family, and if anything happens-”

“Okay,” the mercenary laughed, “now you’re definitely not getting out of this. It looks like you can learn quite a few lessons from such an experience, after all.”

“But-”

“Sylvain will be waiting for you at the training grounds. I expect you to arrive on time. I will check on you periodically.”

Well, so much for that, you thought to yourself. You hadn’t seen so much as the color of Professor Byleth’s hair since this whole thing began.

As you finished the task you had originally approached Sylvain to complete, you began to wonder how curling his fingers of all things would be the most challenging part of this lesson. He was clearly listening to you when you spoke, so the issue must be in your directions, right? Maybe you really weren’t cut out for this whole “giving-orders” thing, even though you thought you had been doing a good job, so far.

“Hey,” Sylvain began. “Why haven’t you said anything to me?”

You paused, “What do you mean? I’ve been talking you through the process this whole time.” Honestly, now you weren't sure if he was listening. Maybe he was the spacey type.

Sylvain quirked an eyebrow, “Every time I fail to go back into position, you just stop and move my fingers manually. I must have done it at least four times by now, and most girls would have told me to knock it off at this point.”

“I don’t…” four was an understatement. But did he really not realize the reason for your hesitation? “...know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do. There’s this look in your eye every time you notice it. You have a lot more patience than I do, that’s for sure. Your tone of voice stays neutral or positive, and each time you maneuver my hands, you don’t move them any rougher than you did the time before it. But even with all of those behaviors combined, you manage to give it away through your eyes.”

What.

He’s been able to notice all of those…traits…of your behavior over the past two hours you’ve been working to teach him, but he still can’t do any better than a spread flame of-?

There’s no way.

“So you’re saying you know how to use the proper positioning?”

“Pssh. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I got it the first time.” the red-headed noble teased, “But all those extra times you spent showing me really helped-”

“Do it, then.”

His brows knit lightly, “What?”

You pointed at the target he had only technically hit during his last shot, “Get into your form. Aim at the target. And light it on fire.”

Sylvain was too stunned to speak. Instead, he did as you said, turning to face the target and firing a small fireball at the center. Sure enough, it caught fire. Right on the mark.

His smug demeanor returned, “So, how did I do? Don’t you think I should get some form of a reward for all my hard work today?”

You slowly exhale, closing your eyes and calming your heartbeat. Then, you fire your own flame spell at the target. The hay is half ember and half ash when you turn to leave.

“We’re done. I’m done.”

“Woah,” Sylvain’s eyes went wide as he stared into the remains of the fire. Quickly recovering from his shock, he turned back to you, “You oka-?”

“Two hours of my life!” you snap, spinning on your heel to face him. “Gone! Wasted!”

“Hey, now, don’t get too upset. After all, I know a few women that would be jealous of someone getting to spend that much one-on-one time with me,” his signature smirk returns, and all you can think of is how much you’d like to burn the look off his face. “Why don’t we go out and get some tea together? Would that make you feel better?”

“Two hours! And now you want even more time?”

You actually wanted to cry, now, but there was no way you were going to give him the satisfaction.

“I was supposed to spend my time with Mercedes and Annette, this afternoon! I would’ve had tea with them! Then we would’ve studied for our certification exams, and…I didn’t need this! And you certainly didn’t need this much time from me.”

Sylvain actually looked a little hurt at that, and before you could truly process everything you had just done, you heard three small raps at the entrance of the training grounds.

“That’s quite enough, you two. Sylvain, please head back to my classroom and wait for me there. We’re going to be having a little chat about training etiquette, but not before I speak with your classmate.”

His regretful expression left almost as quickly as it came when he turned to face Professor Byleth with a wink, “Right. Don’t keep me waiting, Professor!”

She glared at him, and you were immediately glad her look wasn’t directed at you.

“Don’t tempt me. Maybe I won’t show up for two hours. Whatever keeps me entertained, right?”

The Gautier noble lost his smirk as your own mouth formed a thin line to keep from smiling. You weren’t sorry for him in the slightest; especially not after he treated you like a plaything for the better part of an afternoon.

“And no detours!” she barked as he left.

You stepped forward, “Professor…I don’t-”

“I disagree.”

You blinked twice, “What?”

“With what you said earlier,” she smiled, “about not needing this. I disagree.”

The tension in your shoulders dropped in defeat, “What are you talking about, professor? I must have completed what you told me to at least an hour ago, but I wasn’t even competent enough to pick up on it. There was absolutely no reason for me to stay any longer than that, and especially not with someone as depreciative of my company as-”

But it didn’t feel like she was listening to you. Her smile was just growing, and all you could do was trail off and watch as your professor turned and headed for the door.

“You’ve grown more than you realize. You were finally able to assert yourself today.”

You shuddered a little, “I’m still worried about what I said to him.”

With her hand on the door, Professor Byleth faced you one last time, “Don’t be. Now you know as well as I do. Those nobles think they can do whatever they want, so it’s an important lesson for us to learn.” She nodded once, “It’s okay to stand up for yourself, my student. Someone needs to keep them in check.”

The doors of the grounds shut behind her with a thud.

She was right, you knew. You felt more sure of yourself, just as she had asked you to become. Not only that, but now that you knew people like Sylvain were qualified to be nobles, you weren’t as scared to talk to them.

But now you had a new fear. One day, Fodlan’s future would rest in the hands of nobles like these.

If messing around was the best they could do, they definitely had their work cut out for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felix:

“It’s not working.”

“Don’t worry, th-that’s alright! This is only your first day, after all. I think you’re doing well.”

Felix huffed, “Doing well isn’t going to save my life when I can’t cut through someone’s armor. Stop flattering me and actually do something to help.”

“R-right! Of course!” you stumbled. You allowed your eyes to scan Felix’s body, evaluating his form and making a mental checklist. He was able to create the magic just fine, but the Faerghus noble was completely lost when it came to firing it.

“Well, your stance is great, and you can summon the magic easily enough. B-but I don’t have enough information to properly identify a problem area-”

“Then show me again,” he ordered as Professor Byleth entered the training grounds. She was carrying a handful of spears that she must have just bought.

“That’s enough, Felix. You're the one listening, here. Let your friend do her job.”

He balked at that. “She is not my friend. Neither of us are here by choice, in case you’re having trouble recalling the context of the situation you put us in!”

Your teacher began swapping out the new lances in her arms for the broken and rusted ones discarded around the training grounds. “Well, complaining about it isn’t going to get you anywhere. Just be nice and listen, and I’m sure this will be over before you know it.”

The swordsman turned to you, clenching his teeth, “Please. Show me how you performed the spell. Again.”

“Y-Yes!”

“Ah-ah. No,” you turned to Professor Byleth as she looked you in the eyes, “You’re the professor. You’re the one giving the orders. Felix isn’t teaching you how to teach. You’re teaching him magic.”

“Ah, right,” you stood a little taller, “In that case…Felix, I’m going to demonstrate how to cast the Thunder spell once more.”

Your posture faltered at the resounding sigh from across the room. “I’m going off to the shop to repair these weapons. I expect this…dynamic…to be fixed when I return.”

As you watched your professor leave, the noble next to you cleared his throat. Back to work.

“Okay, I-I can go slow. And I’ll talk you through it!”

You got into your original stance, going over each component from your feet to your fingers. Felix reproduced your efforts methodically.

Next, you informed him of the process of garnering magic from your internal source. As the Thunder gathered in your hands, it did the same in his. It was just as bright as yours, which had always come as a surprise.

You didn’t dwell on it too long as you came to the part of the system you knew you’d spend the most time on. You tried to describe it as best you could; tracing an imaginary line between your fingers and your target before letting it go. And while yours went, the lightning magic between Felix’s hands began to grow in size and glow ever brighter.

“Tch. Not again.”

“Hold on, I’ll get it!” you reassured him, running across the room to grab one of the logs you were using as targets. Returning to him, you placed the wood in his hands as it took the brunt of the power from his spell. However, the rest of it went into you.

“Agh-! Th…that’s-” you hug your arms to your chest, attempting to cradle them against one another lightly, “that’s definitely what a Thunder spell with double the power would feel like.”

While Felix didn’t outright ask if you were alright, you felt his eyes scanning over your arms. But as long as you were the one taking the hit and not him, he couldn’t get any more upset with you, right? A commoner teaching magic to a noble. While you didn’t doubt that you could, you were not exactly confident that you should. However, it wasn’t up to you. Professor Byleth called the shots.

Shots that you needed to be giving right now, you remembered.

“Forgive me! I need to focus.”

Felix opened his mouth as if in protest, but you spoke again before he could get any sound out, “So, tell me exactly what you’re thinking when you try to fire off the spell.”

He furrowed his brow, “Just like you said. I draw that invisible line in my mind, I run my arms along it, and I think of letting go. Releasing.”

“Hmm. I think that might be our issue.”

“You think?”

“Hey, I’m not exactly the best at teaching compared to just doing, in case you couldn’t already tell.”

Only after the words were out of your mouth did you realize what you just said.

“Oh no- I’m so sorry! Look, I…I’ll figure this out for you, you’ll execute it, and then we won’t have to do this again.”

“Calm down. You’re allowed to be frustrated, too,” he scoffed. “I haven’t exactly been a model student.”

“Right…a-anyway, try going through the routine once more, but instead of thinking about releasing, think of pushing. That way you’re using both mental and physical force.”

So you watched as Felix did just that. He got into his stance, gathered the magic into his hands, pushed his arms forward, and furrowed his brow.

But the lighting grew ever brighter, the supply of logs grew ever smaller, and your arms grew ever more sore.

“W-why-” you asked, cradling your arms together once more. Tears formed in your eyes as you looked elsewhere, fighting the pain. “I don’t get it.”

“Come on!” Felix shouted at himself. With your head turned away from him, however, you had presumed your so-called “student’s” anger was directed at you.

Consequently, you flinched away from him.

From outside of your view, Felix’s eyes widened slightly. He softened his tone a bit, “Woah…Hey, are you alright?”

“Please,” you pleaded, turning to fully face him. “I’m doing my best. I just…if you could just give me a bit more time to wor-”

“I’m not mad at you, and I’m definitely not about…to hurt…you…” he began to trail off.

He was staring at your arms. Once you followed his gaze, you could see why. With a gasp, you held them straight out in front of you.

The flesh of your arms was burned.

It went in a pattern that made it look like something had lashed at you. The last log you used must not have been as effective as you had hoped it would be. Your knees dropped out in shock.

Felix burst toward you. Catching your torso, he lightly lowered you to the ground.

Dread cloaked your thoughts like a shadow as your breathing became more shallow and stuttered. You couldn’t cast healing magic over yourself. Moving your arms at all was a special kind of torture, but performance of the spell you needed couldn’t be achieved without more range of motion.

“Teach me how to heal you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were still too petrified to register what he had said.

“What?”

“Look, maybe I can’t fire off lightning, but we can both clearly see from your arms that the spell worked. If you can teach me how to heal, even if I can’t send it into you, you can still make use of the spell on yourself by placing your arms where you used to put the logs.”

It sounded like a reasonable enough plan. It was the best thing you had at the moment, anyway. You didn’t think you could move about to get help in this state, and you didn’t like the idea of being left alone in the training grounds, either.

So you walked him through it. Kneeling together on the floor, you told him to change his fingers into a cupped form. He was instructed to send the power through his wrists rather than his fingertips to get it to form. Then, with his hands glowing green and hovering over your arms, you directed him to give the magic directly to your afflicted areas.

Both of you were stunned when Felix was able to send the healing magic to you on his first try. You didn’t need to move into it, it just flowed from his wrists into your arms.

Your head gave an involuntary bow as you felt the magic wash over you. It was like a light breeze on a hot day. More like a cool salve on a burn, you supposed.

“Thank you,” you breathed, head still lowered. Your breaths continued, slow and deep as you closed your eyes.

It got you thinking, though. How was it that Felix could fire his healing magic effectively, but not the Thunder spell you had both been working on? It was the same principle, though you think you conveniently forgot to instruct him on it, this time.

Your eyes opened lightly as you felt the flow of magic dissipate from your body. Felix must have stopped, then.

As you tried to lift your head back up, your vision spotted and dizziness set in. You supposed you had never truly been injured that badly before. Sure, the attacks you had taken throughout the time of one battle all added together might total quite a bit of agony, but Mercedes was always around to heal you at intervals whenever you suffered anything noticeable.

“...ngh..”

“Easy,” Felix stated, moving his hands to balance your shoulders, “you’ll get up when you’re ready. Nothing good will come from you pushing yourself right now.”

Focusing on your breathing, you put your head back down and placed your palms in front of you for balance.

“What were you thinking…" you took another deep breath, steadying yourself. "When you sent the healing spell, what was the thought permeating your mind?”

His hold on your shoulders tightened subtly, “I was just thinking that I wanted you to take it.”

“There, then,” you affirmed as your voice returned to you in full. “That’s going to be what you need to do in order to fire your spells. Your objective will be to get the recipient to take the spell from you.”

Trying to lift your head up once more, you succeeded. You let your eyes blink a few times, then turned to the noble kneeling next to you.

“So, go do it. One more try,” you nodded. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll be done.”

His lips pressed against each other, and his eyes hardened. You could tell he was less than interested.

“I promise I have learned from my mistakes. You’ve already found the solution, Felix. You performed it just now. The only thing that’s left is to use the proper spell.”

“Got it,” he stood, moving into position a few feet away from his target. Before he gets into his form, though, he looks to you.

“If it backfires-”

“It won’t.”

He clenched his teeth, “It might not, but I’m telling you that if it does, you’re not grabbing that log. I’ll find a way to take care of it myself, understood?”

You laughed, “Don’t worry, I couldn’t stand if I tried.”

“I mean it.”

“I’ll stay right here. I promise.”

That seemed to be the answer he was looking for. The swordsman turned back to the target, took his stance, and you observed as the lightning formed in his hands.

You watched him shove the spell forward, and just as you predicted, the lightning flew from his hand into the center of the target.

“Just like that!” you smiled warmly, eyes fixed on where the projectile had struck.

Right on cue, the doors to the training grounds flew open, unceremoniously announcing the return of Professor Byleth. The first thing her gaze landed on was the scorched target across from Felix.

“Wonderful jo-” as she turned to address the two of you, however, her eyes caught on your own position.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“...”

“...”

“Uh…Felix knows healing magic, now…?”

After a quick interrogation to ensure neither of you deliberately hurt one another just so he might practice his powers in faith, the mercenary escorted both of you to see Professor Manuela.

Fortunately, she didn’t spot any remaining injuries on either of you. This led your own professor to become quite pleased with your performances, and she insisted that this become a more permanent arrangement.

You were originally concerned about how much time you would have to spend teaching until Professor Byleth began a weekly rotation system between the two of you.

Though you can’t say you were ever fond of the sword, you were definitely not expecting to ever become so experienced with one in such a short period of time. Now that you and Felix could both effectively use magic and metal interchangeably, the two of you possessed extreme versatility on the battlefield.

The Blue Lions were now more than ever a force to be reckoned with, and it was safe to say that the House overall was far from displeased.

[egg-tofu-pudding]

“present yourself to me.”

warnings: pussy spanking, bdsm dynamics, humiliation (?), degrading nicknames

minors dni

“present yourself to me.”

your back was against the headboard, propped up by pillows. the collar of your shirt had been pulled down to expose your breasts, and per your master’s orders you were not wearing any panties under your skirt.

you opened your legs, pushing your thighs out as far as you could, just how he liked you to do, so he could get a good view of your glistening pussy. despite the clothes on your body, you still felt more exposed than if you were just naked. your hands hooked underneath your knees to hold the submissive position.

his hand came down sharply on your inner thigh, and you let out a gasp, entire body jolting and your legs fluttering from their open position.

“didn’t you hear me? i said to present yourself to me,” he said. “a slut like you shouldn’t be acting chaste now.”

timidly, you moved your hands from your thighs. using your fingers on both hands, you spread your pussy lips, allowing him to see all of you. you could feel his gaze on your core, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

he let out a hum of satisfaction. “that’s a good slut. that wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it? i can see you clenching, do you want me that badly?”

you were too embarrassed to respond, but a wave of pain and pleasure rocked your body as he brought his hand down on your pussy. “ah!” a mix of a cry and a moan came out of your mouth.

“i asked you a question, whore,” he said, raising his hand before spanking your pussy continuously. “does your dirty body want me that badly?” with how wet his palm was getting, the answer was clear, but he wanted to hear you say it. a string of your juices connected his hand and your pussy, but he continued the assault.

“yes, yes!” you babbled, your fingers clinging onto your folds desperately, knowing your punishment would be worse if you faltered. you could feel the heat building up in your stomach, but you didn’t want to finish on his hand. “i-i want you! please put your cock in my slutty pussy!”

your begging must have satisfied him, because he gave your pussy one last squelching slap before finally allowing your body to rest. “there we go.” he brought the hand he used to spank you to your lips, and you obediently started licking and sucking at his fingers, obediently lapping up your own juices. “if my good little slut begs me so well, how can I say no? i hope you’re prepared, because i won’t be going easy on you. but that’s just how you like it, right?”

a small smile spread on your face. “yes, master.”

Ayato, Xiao, Scaramouche, Draken, Rindou, Mikey, Nanami, Megumi Fushiguro, Felix (FE3H)

[aces-sweetheart]

Can I request cuddle headcanons for Jeritza Hubert and Felix separately with female Byleth?

as of right now, i write reader x character exclusively so i'll be writing the hcs like that rather than female!byleth x character i'm sorry.

cw: sfw, gn!reader (no pronouns specified)

jeritza

it would take him a very long time to be comfortable enough to cuddle with you (or have any physical contact with you in general)

even when you two finally cuddle he's stiff and restrained and he'll probably end the contact after a few minutes

he just has trouble trusting himself around you and doesn't want to hurt you

but when he's tired he'll be more open to it

your arms wrapping around him and the steady rising and falling of your chest against his cheek is comforting as his eyes grow heavier

hubert

another one who would take some time before he would agree to cuddle with you

he isn't afraid of hurting you like jeritza, he just needs time to accept his feelings for you

prefers to be the one holding you because it makes him feel like he's protecting you rather than the other way around

plus the position allows him to be in control

i feel like he's always cold so he'll keep a blanket close by for you two

felix

you'll never guess what i'm about to say

it also takes him some time to cuddle with you

i'm sorry anon, you picked some distant characters /lh

he'll act like he doesn't like it but you can easily tell he does

like yes felix this must be absolute torture, getting your hair played with as he lays down with someone he loves. that's why you look like you're in heaven ofc ofc.

even if you're very strong he'd want to be the one holding you so he can feel like he's protecting you

he knows you're more than capable of defending yourself but it's still something he'd want

when he's feeling more affectionate/soft (which is rare), he likes to plant little kisses on your head and run his fingers up and down your back

don't mention it though because he'll get embarrassed and stop

[agent-cupcake]

Paradoxical

Commission for the ever amazing and inspiring @furudolove

Pairing: Felix Hugo Fraldarius x f! Reader

Synopsis: You ask Felix to train you. He has a different sort of lesson in mind.

Warnings: explicit smut, dub/noncon, violence, degradation, victim blaming

Word Count: 7.7k

“Thank you for doing this, by the way,” you said. “I know it’s a drag, but I really appreciate-” 

“I’m not doing this because I want to,” Felix said, cutting you off. 

As far as starts went, that was about as rough as any could imagine. You tried not to frown, wanting to keep your dismay hidden. The idea of training with Felix hadn’t been entirely appealing to you, but it had come as an order in all but writing. And it was practical. Not only was he the best swordsman in the entirety of the Imperial army, he was one of the few that had unique insights into how to fight against the Kingdom. Besides, the two of you were friends. Or, at the very least, friendly. Well, you were friendly to him. And although he was generally a stoic loner, he had never been so overtly rude to you before.

“Ah, yeah, I know,” you mumbled. “I still appreciate it.”  

“Hmph. Let’s get this over with.” Felix strolled into the middle of the arena, swishing his sword with a casual grace. He stopped in the center, turning to you with an unreadable expression. His stance wasn’t aggressive, he hadn’t even raised his weapon. When you didn’t move, his eyebrow quirked. “Well?”  

“Shouldn’t we start with warm ups or something?” you asked uncertainly, feeling quite awkward standing with your sword in hand. At the very least, the two of you had the training grounds to yourself. Felix had borrowed the keys and told you to arrive at night, the only time he could carve out for this apparently tedious endeavor. It had seemed frustrating at the time, but now you were grateful that nobody else would witness whatever humiliation you were about to suffer.

“No.” 

“Right, okay. Do, uhm, do you have any suggestions?” you asked, stepping into the ring. Stars glittered above the towering walls, the moon a mere sliver in the night sky.

“Don’t lose.” 

“I’ll do my best,” you said with a smile, thinking he was joking and more than happy to offset the awkward tension. 

Felix didn’t smile. Lit only by the two torches on either side of the arena, it was somewhat difficult to tell, but you were certain that there wasn’t a shred of mirth in his gaze. “This isn’t a game,” he snapped. 

Your heart sunk and your smile faded, embarrassment forming a pit in your stomach. “I know,” you said, having to swallow down the lump in your throat. “I know that. Sorry.” 

Whether or not your apology mattered to him at all, you couldn’t tell. His expression was entirely impassive, his stance equally unreadable. Facing him, you breathed in and breathed out, eying his form as you would any opponent and settling into a more dominant sparring pose. 

Felix didn’t move, staring you down and daring you to strike. He still hadn’t raised his weapon, not even in a defensive position. Despite that, the confidence that radiated from him was unmistakable. Where you felt awkward and ungainly with your wide stance and raised blade, he was as comfortable as could be with his body entirely exposed. With anyone else, that would be a weakness. With Felix, it was a taunt. He didn’t acknowledge you as a worthy opponent. 

Trying to buy time, you circled around him, sword at the ready. He pivoted to match your movement with steady steps, amber eyes sharply focused on you. 

“You’re wasting my time,” he warned as the seconds dragged on, not attempting to hide his irritation. 

“Sorry,” you muttered. Your heartbeat raged hot and hard in your ears as you prepared yourself. There was no point in delaying any longer. If you wanted his help, you had to prove yourself.

Just as you had been taught, you lunged forward, sword swiping through the air. Felix dodged with sinuous grace, moving as if he knew where your blade would land before you did. Thinking fast, you attacked again, pressing against his evasion with increasingly frantic movements. Nothing landed. He wasn’t parrying, just weaving around you like the wind. Realizing your tactics weren’t going to work, you relented, drawing back. 

Felix’s counterattack came before you realized he had finally raised his weapon, taking advantage of your disorientation to strike at your unprotected left side. You attempted to knock his blade aside, but it was a sluggish movement and the dulled edge met skin. You yelped in pain, reflexively slashing at him, but Felix moved out of your range. His feet were so quick and sure, almost like a dancer’s lithe step. In comparison, you stumbled back like a drunk, your breathing shallow and heart racing. 

“You hit me,” you said in disbelief, looking down at your stomach. The wound was shallow, but it had been enough to rip your shirt and mark the skin.

“And?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

That, more so than the stinging slash across your torso, took you aback. But it did help you understand. What he intended was trial by fire. You set your jaw, nodding. 

He settled back into his relaxed stance and raised his chin tauntingly. “Again.” 

The next bout went about as well as the first, ending when he delivered a painful slash across your forearm. 

“Try harder,” Felix recommended, pacing the perimeter of the arena with his sword whispering through the air in unconcerned figure-eights.  

Try harder. 

Oh, you tried. 

You had no idea how long you lasted, how many short rounds you endured with the same painful results. He barked out corrections here and there, but they weren’t useful so much as they were insulting. Rather than being impressed by your tenacity, Felix only seemed to grow more and more infuriated by your attempts, his landed attacks becoming harsh enough to draw blood. 

“Stop,” he finally demanded, knocking your sword away with an easy flick. At this point, your arms were jelly and your legs were trembling from strain, it didn’t take much to knock you out of your stance. You didn’t think you had ever trained like this, with such intensity. “You’re pulling your attacks.” 

You blinked at him, making a vain attempt to catch your breath and adjusting your sweaty grip, wiping your brow with the sleeve he’d sliced apart. “I-I’m not trying to.” 

“Of course you aren’t,” Felix responded, clearly annoyed. “You lack the nerve to strike me. As if you could hurt me.” He shook his head with a sneer, seemingly disgusted by the idea. Before you could think of a response, he met your gaze. The weight of the look sent a shock down your spine, the scorn of it withering you where you stood. “Always fight like you mean it, no matter who your opponent is. Fight to win. Fight to kill.”

“I know,” you said, your voice considerably weaker.

Felix’s eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t. Look at yourself,” he said, punctuating the statement by giving you an obvious once-over. “You’re weak.”

Attempting to hide your hurt, you accepted that as criticism of your skill, doing your best to not take it personally. Still, worn out past the point of reason, it was getting harder and harder to control your emotions. “I’ll get better.” 

"You'll get killed,” Felix told you flatly. “You won't last a minute on the battlefield."

You exhaled harshly, physically recoiling from that hostile response. “I know,” you said again. “But I can’t give up. I want to do my part⁠—as a soldier, I have to.” 

Felix’s expression darkened further, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Instead of relenting to your attempt at an emotional appeal, his attitude only seemed to harden. “Do you think you’re brave?” he asked. “Pathetic. You’re slow, unfit, and your technique is sloppy. You don’t have the skill or resolve to win. It’s embarrassing. You have no right to hold that sword, let alone call yourself a soldier. Do everyone a favor and give up before you die a meaningless death. Or worse, get someone else killed.”

Your grip around the hilt of your sword tightened, your eyes prickling with tears. His tongue cut deeper than the blunted sword. You already knew you were weak, that was why you wanted his help. Couldn’t he see that? Didn’t he care? You focused on breathing evenly, willing your hands to quit shaking. 

“I can’t.” 

Rather than responding, Felix lunged forward with a speed you hadn’t yet seen. Yelping in surprise, you raised your sword. Somehow, you were fast enough to block the attack. The cruel sound of metal on metal resonated through the entire arena, right out into the night sky. What you hadn’t expected was for the force of the two blades meeting to send a harsh vibration down the length of your sword straight down your arm. A pain worse than if he’d hit you shot through your bones, twisting your arm and radiating all the way to your shoulder. Crying out, you let go of the weapon to spare yourself a broken wrist, your sword flying out of your hand and skittering across the floor. Disarmed and reeling in pain, you did the only sensible thing and made a hasty, panicked retreat. 

Instead of backing off like he had every time prior, Felix stepped in close to match your escape, burying his left fist in your stomach. That was all it took to upset your balance entirely. The world whirled, all sense escaping you until you landed hard on your back, knocking your head against the ground and all the air from your lungs. 

Wheezing, dizzy from how quickly the sequence of attacks unfolded, you got your elbows beneath you to sit up before your vision even cleared, adrenaline and some form of defensive instinct kicking in. The edge of Felix’s blade was ready to meet you, the tip poking into your throat to keep you from rising any higher.

Tears blurred your vision as you looked up at him looming above you, his image slowly sliding into focus as the dizziness faded. Alarm bells shrieked in your head, pulsating with the pain. For the first time, you understood what should have been obvious. You were in genuine danger. Alone on the training grounds, far away from intervention, he had you at his mercy. What you had previously seen as an idiosyncratic but ultimately harmless attitude now felt rather more like madness, a ferocity that hid behind his inscrutable mask. 

People whispered about that, about him. He had, after all, been the best friend of the mad king Dimitri before he joined the empire. You hadn’t believed the claims held any truth, but now you weren’t so sure. 

Felix’s eyes lingered where your clothes were torn, zeroing in on the exposed skin. You couldn't tell if he was aware of it, aware of the way his eyes darkened, his tongue peeking out to swipe across his lips. The edge of the training sword bit shallowly into your neck, keeping you from moving out of the uncomfortable prone position.

When the silence had drawn on far too long for comfort, you drew in a breath to speak. It hurt, your stomach aching from the blow, but you didn’t want him to know that. “Do you want me to tap out or something?” you asked, a vain attempt at levity. 

Felix’s lips curled in disgust. “Do you know why you lost?” he asked. 

You swallowed hard, head spinning as you tried to think of what answer he wanted. “I wasn’t prepared,” you guessed, hoping that was the right one. 

“Wrong,” he told you flatly. “You lost the minute you picked up that sword. Fighting a battle you have no hope of winning doesn’t make you a hero, it makes you an idiot.” 

“Stop,” you told him, your voice quickly approaching a whine. “I get it.” 

“Do you think the enemy will relent if you look pathetic enough?” he asked incredulously. “If you want me to stop, make me. A true swordsman wouldn’t cower on the ground with her opponent’s blade at her throat, she would fight to the bitter end.” 

The unfairness of it all had your lower lip trembling, eyes stinging all over again. Give up and lose, or fight and lose. It didn’t matter which you chose, he would disdain you either way. You pulled back further from his sword, but the blunted edge just followed you. This was too much. You were sore and exhausted and covered in shallow wounds and bruises. From insult to injury, Felix had you beat. 

But you couldn’t just give up either. He was testing you, daring you to do so. You had to overcome this. Thinking fast, you did the only thing you could think of and kicked his legs, using the leverage to slide out from under his sword. 

Felix stepped forward, stumbling. You lunged up at him in a desperate grapple, meaning to steal his weapon. He registered your intent immediately and, rather than let you take his sword, he tossed it aside. The weapon hit the ground with a clatter and you were back on the dusty arena floor, the breath knocked from your lungs all over again. Felix kept you in place with the weight of his body, pinning your dominant hand with an iron grip.

“Obvious,” he practically spat. 

“You’re hurting me,” you whined, truly panicking now that you were so utterly defenseless. Terrified of how close he was and the implications of this position. 

“Then make me stop.” 

You actually whimpered, fighting desperately to keep yourself from crying. “Please, Felix.” 

His entire body jolted, like the use of his name had electrocuted him. “Shut up,” he said, his voice dangerously low. He backed off a moment later, his grip on your wrist loosening somewhat. “Why are you so infuriating? Most people would just give up, why won’t you?” He seemed to be talking more to himself than you, mumbling the words quickly, frantically. “I should just let you get yourself killed. You’re an irrational and idealistic fool. But I…” He trailed off with a frustrated sound, shaking his head. “It’s your own fault.”

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, senseless guilt swelling in your chest.

He didn’t respond, simply staring you with a look you couldn’t decipher. After a tense moment, he released your wrist, letting you curl your arm against your chest, rubbing at the marks his fingers had left. Before you could make use of your freed hands, Felix pulled you up off the floor by the front of your ruined shirt. You didn’t understand what was going on. The instinctive part of your brain thought it was another attack, and you grabbed at his wrists to try and get away. 

But then his lips met yours. They were dry and gritty, and both of you had sour breath from training, but there was an insistence behind it. A fervor. That was all it was, a harsh press of his mouth slightly offset on the corner of your own. Chaste. Felix pulled away before you could think to struggle, although he didn’t release you, holding you suspended while you pulled at his wrists.

Since you hadn’t shut your eyes⁠—they were wide with shock⁠—you saw his open. You saw the way his expression shifted rapidly, a dozen variations of concentration, anger, and smoldering darkness churning behind his amber gaze before his eyes narrowed, scanning your face with piercing intensity. You said nothing, barely daring to breathe.   

Scowling, Felix released the front of your ruined shirt, letting you drop back down onto the floor with a pained grunt. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Everyone else may have fallen for it, but I…” He ran a hand through his loose bangs, shaking his head. “I refuse to pity the weak. You either fight and win, or you don’t fight at all. You have no business pretending to be a soldier.” 

“Why did you…” With a trembling hand, you touched your lips, holding absolutely still rather than struggling like you knew you needed to.

Felix didn’t answer. His weight lifted from you somewhat so he could pull at your shirt again. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, attempting to fight him off as the reality of the situation slowly sunk in, squirming to try and get out from under him. “Please stop.” 

“Begging?” Felix asked, using the scraps of your shirt like a harness to pull you back into place beneath him as you inched away. It ripped further, an ugly sound. “Is that your plan after you’re defeated? You’ll beg the enemy to stop?” Felix scoffed. “I told you. If you want me to stop, make me stop.” 

With that, he pulled off your shirt completely. It was ruined anyway, he barely had to do anything to tear it off. The skin beneath was torn as well, shallow gashes sliced across your ribs and stomach. With real weapons, the wounds would be deadly. 

Felix’s lip pulled back in disgust as he traced one of the red marks with a gloved finger. “This is the price of heroism,” he told you. You pushed his hand aside, thrashing to try and displace him. In response, he dropped more of his weight onto your stomach. You couldn’t breathe. It hurt. You stopped struggling, hoping he’d ease up. He didn’t. Instead, his eyes trailed upwards, locking on your own. “Swear that you’ll give up this pathetic charade and I’ll leave. Otherwise I’ll…” he trailed off and, for the first time, you saw doubt in his expression, quickly chased away by disgust. “Just give it up, okay?”  

The amber color of his irises blurred with your tears. Even still, you could see the fire in his gaze. Anger, maybe even hatred. You should have agreed, even if you didn’t mean it. To do anything else was dangerous, your lips still tingled with the memory of his and your frazzled mind was no closer to understanding why he would have kissed you. Prickling chills rose across your skin in response to being exposed, making the cuts sting painfully. 

“No,” you wheezed, shaking your head and pushing at him with weak arms. “Even if it kills me, I-I won’t give up.” 

“You’ll be lucky if all they do is kill you,” Felix said. “A pretty, pathetic girl in the emperors inner circle would make for a perfect captive. Do you have any idea what they’ll do to you?”

“Stop,” you told him, unable to come up with anything more eloquent when your brain was shorting out at the threat. And it was a threat. Despite his words, you weren’t frightened of the potential torture at the hands your enemies. Not when Felix was staring at you with dark eyes and flushed cheeks, his body hot and firm against your own. Whatever he was trying to convey wasn’t in his words, but in the intensity of his voice, in the way he looked at you. There were too many things you couldn’t piece together, too many baffling parts of this situation that you couldn’t make sense of.

“They’ll ruin you,” he said. His sharp anger now wavered with something tremulous and soft, his control fraying. “You’ll die a meaningless death. And for what? Your sense of honor? Your country? That’s bunk, all of it.” Your stomach tensed up, your breath hiccuping. 

“Felix-”

“Don’t,” he told you, low and careful. An admonishment. A warning. “Why can’t you just…” Whatever he meant to say trailed off, his lips forming a tight line. 

Felix pulled the knife from his belt. A terrified cry left your mouth, your body resuming its futile thrashing. He pressed his hand beneath the hollow of your throat to keep you still, pushing the blade beneath the tight garment you used to keep your chest bound and slicing the fabric down the center in one smooth motion. Just like that, no preamble, no warning. Your nipples were already stiff, your body electrified with adrenaline and fear. The cool air didn’t help, its shivering touch worsened by the sheen of sweat on your skin. He looked at you hungrily, like a wolf.

“We shouldn’t… You…” the words came out stumbling and clumsy, your shaking hands desperately trying to cover your chest.

Felix wasn’t paying attention. He scanned your body with an odd expression, not the disgust or anger of before but just as intense. Color stained his cheeks, dark against his pale skin. When he momentarily met your eyes, he ducked away. You wondered if it was remorse that twisted his lips into a frown. 

“Shut up,” Felix muttered, knocking your hands aside. He offered no more explanation, moving down your body so he could straddle your hips instead. The position gave him easy access to your chest. The first brush of his mouth on your skin made you yelp. Without looking up, he pressed a hand to your mouth. It smelled like metal and leather and it muffled any further complaints as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking hard. You pulled at his arm with all your strength, tugging on his hair. It didn’t matter. 

When Felix’s teeth scraped skin, you tensed up, forgetting even to struggle at the shocks of pleasure. So far, you’d been able to ignore the sensation, too caught up in your panic. Now it was all you could feel, sparks of warmth sinking low into your core.

Felix groaned against you in response to the sound you couldn’t swallow back, biting you a little too hard. It hurt. It made you whine, a high sound vibrating through your throat, your back arching because, even with the pain, it felt good. He pulled off, switching to the other side.  

Your hips unconsciously bucked against his, jerking relentlessly, heels digging into the ground for traction. It was involuntary, you couldn’t control your body, or stop it from reacting. Giving up on freeing your mouth, you pressed a hand to your flushed face to hide. You arched your back to get away from him. It didn’t matter. All it did was push your chest even more firmly to his face. It was as if you were a woman possessed, you had no control over your overworked body. Each scrape of his teeth on your nipple had you whining, pleasure shooting straight to your core. Felix was being far too rough, but your body liked it. Responded to it gleefully.

Every thought ended in a confusing loop. Could you stop this? You didn’t know. Certainly, you wanted him to stop. So why weren’t you fighting? Why weren’t you denying him loudly and firmly? Why were you doing nothing to stand up for yourself? Why was he doing this? Why did it feel so good?

He grunted, pulling off of your nipple with a slick sound. Paying you no mind, Felix used his teeth to remove his glove. With his palm still muffling your pleas, his other hand shoved beneath the waistband of your leggings and underwear. There was some fumbling, his fingers roughly pressing past the outer lips and feeling their way down across your clit. When he reached the tense muscles of your entrance, his fingers slipped knuckle-deep into your pussy. It wasn’t difficult, you were wet. Felix’s entire body stiffened. You didn’t dare open your eyes to see what expression he was wearing, shame overwhelming you.   

“Unbelievable,” he said under his breath, the word coming out harsh, like an insult. You objected, but it was muffled by his palm. His fingers drove deeper into your pussy, exploring your fluttering inner walls. At the same time, his mouth returned to your nipple. It was still sore from his teeth, making your back arch and cunt clamp down hard around his hand. He groaned, doubling down with his teeth and pulling out his fingers to thrust them in roughly, mimicking the lewd motions of sex. 

Rationality fled further back into your mind, acceptance weighing heavily on what little sense still remained. You couldn’t do anything about it. Not make him stop, not deny him your pleasured reactions. There was despair in that, but also escape. 

Felix’s ministrations were artless, but it didn’t matter. The rhythmic thrusting filled the arena with a decidedly obscene squish, his fingertips dragging roughly against your inner walls with each pass. And you were so painfully receptive to it, your hips meeting his hand with a desperate sort of restlessness. When he paused to shove your leggings and underwear down your thighs, you actually mourned the loss of his touch, your mouth open and leaking drool into the leather of his glove. 

Without the barrier, he was able to fuck his fingers into you with even more vigor, adding a third to really make you whine and writhe beneath him. So good. So good, that was all that remained in your broken, tired mind, all you could feel, it overrode everything else, even if it was wrong. Even if you really didn’t think you wanted it. All he had to do was curl his fingers against the spongy tissue inside of you, or graze his teeth cruelly against your nipple, and you were reduced back to the mindlessness of lust. Dripping around his hand, your hips twitching and jerking to meet each thrust, your chest pressing needily against his mouth. 

The cresting waves, the rising tide, pleasure was intense and wet and inescapable in the same way you’d feel facing a relentless oceanic storm. It blazed and coiled and built within you with abandon, existing outside the part of you that understood the grotesque immorality and wrongness of getting off on the unwanted touch. 

Felix pulled off your nipple with a slick pop and you knew he was looking at you but you refused to open your eyes, refused to acknowledge reality as it was. And he hadn’t stopped pumping his fingers into you. Too rough, but you realized too late that you liked it like this anyway. 

“Go on and come already,” Felix said, his voice low. You jerked beneath him, your head thrashing from side to side and eyes squeezed shut as if you had any capacity to escape from this. From him. You said something, but it was muffled by his palm. Surprisingly, he removed his hand, sitting back so it could reach between your legs, leather-covered fingers grazing over your painfully swollen clit. Your eyes shot open, your entire body shaking. 

“I ca-n’t,” you told him, your voice tight and breathless and panicked. That wasn’t what you should have said, that wasn’t the appropriate response. But the truth was that you were achingly close to getting off and you wanted it.

“Really?” Felix asked, and it was mean. Not only his tone of voice, but the way he pressed a bit harder against your clit, grinding dirty little circles against it while his fingers pumped into you in tandem.  

Silent, your mouth fell open, eyes squeezing shut. There was nothing to say, no noise that would convey the impact of what you felt as you came undone. Everything, everything, within you focused only on that sensation, that flare of heat and goodness. Your hips rolled into it mindlessly, your pussy squeezing his fingers as the pleasure rolled through you. Felix didn’t stop right away when your orgasm had abated, only when your body relaxed somewhat did he pull away. 

There was no lingering sense of warmth or endorphins afterward. Just sweat and the taste of blood in your mouth and the dirty, sticky, awful crawling of your skin. You covered your face with one hand, the other attempting to hide your chest. Shame coursed through your veins like poison in your blood. Why did that happen? Why did he do that? Why did you get off on it? You felt frozen. Unable to think. Unable to speak. Unable. Incapable. Weak.

“Hey,” Felix said, ripping you from your thoughts. “Look at me.” 

You shook your head. 

“Look at me.” 

Responding to the threat in his voice, you lowered your hand, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. He sat on his knees, his cheeks stained red and his eyes too dark. 

“You’re fine,” Felix said. The words were a statement, but it was phrased almost like a question. 

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Shook your head with a helpless sound and fresh tears stinging your eyes. You closed them again, your breath hiccuping unsteadily. What a mess. Helplessness and despair oozed through you like sludge and you just wanted it to stop. Everything, the world itself. You wanted to be somewhere else, you wanted to undo everything that just happened. But when you reopened your eyes, nothing had changed. If anything, his expression had only darkened. Lust? Rage? 

Gritting your teeth, you propped yourself up. It was difficult with one arm still trying to cover your chest. Worse when you tried to fix your panties and leggings. Exhaustion trembled through your muscles, down to your very bones. It wasn’t just the aftershocks of pleasure and shame, it was the pain from training, the cuts and bruises littering your skin, the soreness in your arms and back and legs. 

Felix stood up, far too composed considering you could see his erection straining the front of his pants. When he held out a hand⁠—the ungloved one, the one that was still tacky with the wet remnants of your arousal⁠—you took it thoughtlessly. He easily hauled you up onto your feet. His strength really was unmatched. Inhuman. 

As soon as you were sure you weren’t going to fall over, you dropped his hand, wrapping the arm around yourself self-consciously. The silence was awkward, but you had nothing to say. It was hard enough to parse what you were thinking, let alone try and verbalize any of it.

“I’m trying to help you,” Felix suddenly said, sounding utterly determined to convince you. Or, maybe, convince himself. “You get it, don’t you? You’re powerless. There are no heroes, only those who are strong, and those who are weak. You’re weak, so you lost.” He scanned you slowly, frowning. “You should have known better. I told you⁠—I warned you. It’s your fault. You’re blind to reality.”

“My fault?” you repeated, managing to look him in the eye. Half naked and raw like an exposed nerve and trembling from exhaustion and his touch, you couldn’t comprehend what he was saying, reacting to it on a base level.

“Yes.” Felix’s jaw was set in a hard line, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Why are you complaining anyway? It felt good, didn’t it?” There was a petulance there, an aggressiveness to the justification that made your head spin. “I could have done anything I wanted, you weren’t even trying to fight.” 

Disgust and despair flooded your system, your vision fading around the edges because that was too much. Too far.  

“You’re terrible,” you said softly. 

A muscle in his jaw ticked, his eyes hard as steel. “I’m right. Unless you still think you have a chance.” You didn’t respond, didn’t move. Felix rolled his eyes and turned away with a dismissive sound. You had proved his point. 

Violence came over you in a heady flush, buzzing hotly in your head before any sort of rationality could soften its aggression. So you stepped forward on an unsteady leg, your right hand balled into a fist meant for him. Felix accused you of pulling your blows, but not this one. 

Not that it really mattered. He probably expected it, or his reflexes were just that fast. Either way, Felix caught your wrist before you could hit him, his black ponytail flipping dramatically as he turned. The whole thing spanned a scarce few heartbeats, it took longer than that for your mind to catch up. And then you were frantically attempting to pull yourself free, blood pounding in your ears. 

“Let me go,” you demanded, a half tone off from sounding shrill. Felix held onto your wrist with a painfully tight grip, keeping you from getting away. 

“What was your mistake?” he asked without emotion, staring you down pitilessly. 

You shook your head, caught between using your left arm to fight him off and the need to keep your chest covered. For a long moment, all that existed was the amber color of his eyes and the infernal tension. By the time he tugged hard on your wrist to pull you into a hard, mean kiss, you almost expected it. That was the only thing you’d get out of testing him, you knew that. 

This kiss wasn’t much different from the other. Sour breath and chapped lips and a fervency you couldn’t understand. It ended quickly. While your head spun, he turned you around and forced you to stumble forward until he could push you down onto the weapons table. It smelled like wood and metal. The finish was old and wearing thin, the wood grain biting into your hands and cheek.

He shoved your leggings further down your thighs, waking up some sort of impulse within you that rejected this. Felix slapped your hands away when you tried to cover your bare pussy, keeping you pinned with his other hand. It was that easy to deter you. 

“We… we can’t,” you told him. 

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asked, an accusation in his voice. Blame, anger, irritation. This was your fault, that’s what he meant. He had been willing to let you go, but you forced his hand. That’s what this was. Of course you had no answer. 

You heard the sound of a belt being undone, of fabric shuffling. When you felt the tip of his cock pressing between your legs, that was it. Air froze in your seizing lungs, every muscle in your body drawing taut and your limbs locked in place. He drew the head of his dick across your arousal slick flesh until he felt the give of your entrance, or maybe he was estimating from the panicked squeak that left your mouth. He grunted and pushed you more firmly against the table to keep you still as he rolled his hips. You were too tense for him for that to work. He had to pry apart your outer lips and force himself past the flinching muscles, making your cunt stretch around his cock until he was deep enough to rest inside of you without guidance. After that, all it took was a few harsh thrusts to fill you completely, stopping only when his pelvis met your ass.   

 Resignation kept you from struggling, this overwhelming sense of inevitability now that prevention and escape had failed. He would do what he wanted, there was no point in trying to stop it. And if you liked it, if you could get off just from his fingers, how could you even claim you didn’t want it? A part of you merely treaded water, floating in the vague idea that this wasn’t real, that this couldn’t happen to you, that you wouldn’t be in this position. If you were incapable of making a decision, if you were beyond fighting or even arguing, maybe you weren’t even really there at all. 

Felix choked back his groan, pausing now that he was fully settled within you, giving some time for adjustment. Maybe it was kindness, but his discipline was fraying. When your body hiccuped with a little sob, his hips jerked in a shallow threat of a thrust, letting out a sharp hiss from between his teeth. Your mouth fell open silently, wide eyes fixed on the wall. It did hurt, although part of that was your body’s own reluctance to accept his. Mostly, you just felt shocked. In utter disbelief that this would happen. It wasn’t meant to, you weren’t supposed to let this happen. You were strong, you were brave. You were-

Why was this happening? 

Pain and all, having him inside of you felt good, just like with his fingers. There was a sense of fulfillment, satisfying some sort of innate ache within you. If he had started with his dick, maybe your body wouldn’t respond to the pleasurable weight of his cock selfishly seated within your fluttering inner walls. Violation wasn’t meant to feel good and he claimed that this was punishment. But Felix hadn’t started selfishly, he started by making sure you knew pleasure, making sure that you wanted more. That was proof of his point, proof that you had no genuine strength, that you were defenseless.

This was happening because you were weak. 

Taking his time now, he pulled out, bringing an abrupt end to your seemingly endless internal spiral of thoughts. You whined, kept from wiggling away by your lack of leverage. Pinned between Felix and the table, held down by an unyielding hand. He still hadn’t removed the glove, and it was still damp with your drool. Your fingers fretfully searched for traction on the table, your legs trembling. Even pulling out, relieving the pinching pressure, wasn’t what you really wanted because you could feel every ridge, every vein, every private spot within you that he now claimed. 

Felix gave you no warning before thrusting back in, his pelvis meeting your ass with a vulgar clap, both of you moaning at the feeling. His cock twitched as your inner walls desperately tried to adjust all over again and it was such an intensely invasive feeling. The stretch was intimate, a pinching sort of feeling that drew your lips into a line as you tried to swallow down the pained whimper. And the mental process restarted. The shock, the confusion, the disbelief, the inability to understand the meaningful difference between what felt good and what hurt. What was your fault and what wasn’t. 

Distracting you from that, Felix’s hand drifted down between your legs, fumbling a bit before brushing against your swollen clit. It made you shudder, reminding your body of the pleasure from before. 

“No,” you squeaked out, hating yourself for the breathless moan that left your mouth. He pushed away your attempts at making him stop, returning to your clit with purposeful little circles and a hard, punishing thrust. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, although it did nothing to stifle the pathetic whimper. If he only intended to make you feel powerless, why bother touching you? Why bother making you feel so good? None of this made any sense. 

“If you weren’t so damn stubborn,” he said with another thrust, this one less rough than before. In time with the slow circles he rubbed against your clit, it didn’t hurt so bad. No, you could feel where the pleasure would build, hot and intense enough to make you come again. The weight of Felix inside of you was inexplicably good, and the way his cock pressed intently against where you were most sensitive⁠—places even his clever fingers hadn’t been able to find⁠—had your toes curling and fingers clawing into the table. Thinking like that made you whimper shakily, your pussy squeezing his cock as if trying to pull him deeper. Felix groaned, low and honest. It sounded like he was in pain, suffering from the strike you hadn’t been able to land in combat. “If you just listened-” 

“Felix,” you said, trying to cut him off, trying to stop him. But your breathless voice held his name like a moan. It was a moan. He was making you feel good, and you were too weak to fight it. 

He swore in response, hips stuttering. Pausing, he wrapped an arm beneath you, pulling your spine into an awkward arch. The fabric of his shirt was rough against your bare back, but the brush of his lips on your neck was soft. Almost like a kiss, the harshness of his breath was heavy enough to make you shiver, cooling your sweaty skin. His leather-clad hand groped at your chest, pinching your sore nipples to make you really whine. You wouldn’t have expected anything so sweet from Felix, the intimacy of being held like this contrasted dizzyingly to the violence of what he was doing. This was practically the embrace of a lover. 

Felix didn’t seem so inclined to explain, rolling his hips and touching your clit, his lips mapping out all of the skin he could reach. The angle like this was awkward, but its intent seemed obvious. He wanted this to be good for you, in some way. Or, at the very least, you weren’t being allowed to escape from him, weren’t allowed to mentally retreat to some place far away. Your eyes rolled around, searching the hauntingly empty training grounds for some sort of help, some anchor to pull you out from this, but there was nothing. Nobody. Only the stars were witness. Only the thin moon could hear the depraved sounds of skin slapping skin and the wet squelching of each of his uneven thrusts, the noises both of you were making. 

“You’re so loud,” he told you, the shape of the words branded into the side of your neck, disturbing the fine hairs there. Hearing him like this made you shudder, the hot sensation sinking all the way to your core. Even though it was clearly intended as a criticism, Felix sounded hot, his voice a little husky, far lower than normal. 

“‘m s-sorry,” you got out in a slur. “I-I can’t-”

“I didn’t say I disliked it,” he responded, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust that cast away all your best intentions to keep your voice down. You clawed at the arms holding you, grasping desperately at the table for balance.  

“Felix…” 

While you knew that his name would get a reaction, when Felix bit you, a harsh, frightened yelp tore from your throat, the thin gauze of pleasure muffling your ability to react. He inhaled sharply, sucking on the mark as his hips moved faster. This was more of the violence you expected, but you responded to it just as well as you had his sweetness. More, maybe, just because of the sudden intensity. 

Loud, panicked moans were punched from your lungs when he pushed you back onto the table to fuck you properly. The different angle shot white hot through your body, the sudden shock of pleasure far too intense to react to. Or maybe you did, maybe you moaned his name, maybe your pussy tightened like a vice around his cock. There were things that you were aware of doing, but you refused to acknowledge your response, holding with a white knuckled grip to the idea of pleasure driven madness. Only madness⁠—insanity, really⁠—could be used as a defense against the way you cried his name as you came, tight and frightened and anxious and undeniably blissed out. So different from just his fingers, the pleasure hit hard, your cunt sucking him deep with truly sinful sounds as your hips tried to tilt to take more, your clit pulsing hot, hot blood beneath his unyielding touch. 

Felix stopped touching you before you were really down from that high, your orgasm cut short as his hands, one gloved and the other bare, abandoned touching you to grip your hips instead. It wasn’t difficult to understand why. Blood pounded in your ears as his thrusts lost any and all tempo, his fingers definitely bruising your hips. You muttered some kind of denial, stress of the harshness and how perverse it all sounded catching in the fiery mess of your mind, but it didn’t matter. The weak relented to the strong. 

At the very last second, Felix pulled out. You heard the slick noise of his hand working his cock only a heartbeat or two before you felt the hot spurts of cum hit your back. He held you still all the while, his gloved hand keeping you pinned flat onto the table. And that was it. No intimacy, no ceremony. Felix released you a few moments after he ran the tip of his cock over your ass, spreading the last beads of cum thin across your skin, his breathing erratic and harsh. 

He stepped away and you could have moved, could have gotten up, but all you felt was the cooling ropes of cum slipping off of your sweaty skin and the pinching ache of penetration between your legs and this soul-deep sense of confusion. Fabric shuffled when Felix presumably fixed his pants and you didn’t move. You didn’t even open your eyes. All you could do was will the world to stop turning, mentally beg that the universe itself collapse to save you from having to deal with whatever happened next.

Blood roared in your ears, its taste biting the back of your dry tongue. Your legs trembled and twitched. You didn’t want to move, you wanted to disappear. You wanted to never have existed in the first place. 

Felix cleared his throat. You jolted in surprise when you felt the brush of fabric on your back, but you quickly realized he was only wiping you up. Cleaning his mess. Then, awkwardly, he fixed your leggings and underwear, pulling them up your legs as if that would do anything to hide the memory of what he’d done. 

“Can you stand?” he asked gruffly. 

Could you? 

Yes, you decided after a moment. You straighted out and turned, your arms covering your chest. He held out his jacket without looking at you, stipped down just to his sweaty button up. Mutely, you accepted it, glad to have something covering your abused nipples and wounded skin. 

Felix glanced at you, his eyes lingering, before he winced and looked away. “I’ll tell them,” he said. “You’re not fit for combat.”

Combat. Right. The abandoned training swords laid in the arena, not too far off from your ruined shirt. “Okay,” you mumbled. You wished he would go. You wished you had the strength to leave, to escape to somewhere dark and quiet so you could cry. Well. You wished for a lot of things.

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it with a scowl. The night was utterly quiet, not even the far off bugs daring to intrude on the terrible moment of silence. It ended with the sharp, cruel sound of boots on stone. No matter what you thought you wanted, it still hurt when Felix turned on his heel and left the training grounds without so much as a word of goodbye or comfort. Sapped of anger, empty of strength, and internally, mentally, physically ruined, you did nothing to stop him. 

The door slammed shut.

[thatanimewriter]

TEDDY BEAR.

➳ request: i just found out you write for fe3h! Can I ask for dima, felix and sylvain with a male s/o who is very shy, quiet but extremely affectionate toward them (constantly peppers their face with kisses, nuzzles into their shoulders, hugs them tightly from behind etc.)? Thank you in advance!

➳ character/s: dimitri alxandre blaiddyd, felix fraldarius

➳ warnings: swearing, spoilers for fe3h?? idk why you’re reading this without knowing what happens, but in case you don’t know what happens in chapter 11 onwards, SPOILERS

➳ notes: in the name of our angsty bois: amen.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

──   𝐃𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐈 𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐘𝐃.

has probably cried over the affection you’ve given him

touch starved king

and he’s probably also cried over how cute you are-

no one would’ve guessed, cause you’re so shy that pda is just

off the table (almost)

but the moment y’all get back to the dorms, it’s CUDDLE TIME

after missions??

he better accept your kisses or else >:((

especially after the whole edelgard-is-the-flame-emperor thing

he thought you wouldn’t be one for affection since you’re so shy

but he thought wrong

doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it though, he loves it

cause if you weren’t super affectionate, he’d feel really overbearing

but it’s fine, because you both want kisses and you both want cuddles

lots of time spent with each other just wrapped up in blankets and not willing to get up in the morning :))

LOTS OF UNDER THE TABLE HAND HOLDING

just gently stroking the back of your hand with his thumb

also don’t be fooled, he’s still super flustered at affection

──   𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒.

he hates it

he loves it

stop embarrassing him >:((

he claims it’s embarrassing, yet he drags you to the training grounds late at night to get kisses and hugs as a reward for his hard work

he’s really bad at affection

but he kinda wants it, so he just lets you do whatever

you mellow him out

and it’s so desperately needed when the war starts

he’s a tense boi and he needs soft times to balance his stress out

his version of affection is letting you keep showering him with love

but sometimes he’ll return the love in small kisses or resting his head on yours, sometimes some pre-marital hand holding

you’re both especially clingy if one of you got injured in a battle

if that’s even possible for you

if you don’t give him morning kisses

he’s gonna be so mad the whole day

lots of pouting

and that’s the only time you’ll find him chasing you around trying to get just a lil peck

and by peck, i mean cuddles and a light make out session

[wxntxr-cxtrxs]

just for tonight (Felix)

He rolls his hips against yours, face buried in your shoulder. “Fuck.” his hands tremble as they hold your body against his, and he clutches you tighter. The rooms at garreg mach haven't changed a bit in the years since you’d both attended the academy there, but you had changed more than he could have imagined. This was just one night, he reminded himself. One night during the war, just to help you both get through this. To be honest, he’d always carried a torch for you, ever since he first met you. But this wasn't about that, he promised himself. 

You're both still in your clothes, desperately looking through friction despite the layers between you. It’s not enough, of course it’s not, felix can never get enough of you. But this was a start. 

He reaches between your legs to grind his palm against your core, biting back a smile at the noise it pulls from your throat. You yelp when his teeth meet the juncture of your neck and shoulder, biting just enough to leave a mark, one that he knows won't fade anytime soon. Something about that fills him with a rush of possessiveness. 

You tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him closer. Your bodies are pressed flush, but somehow it doesn't feel like enough. You reach between your bodies, deft fingers finding his aching length even through his clothes. As soon as your hand is on him, you can feel him speed up his efforts. His lips on your neck are eager, kissing up your neck and latching on to that spot that has you trembling. His hands are pressed into you with a bruising harshness, one hand eventually coming up to knead roughly at your chest. “Felix,” you moan. 

Your voice sets his body alight, desperate for you.