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whore-for-nohr · 2 years ago

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I just found your blog and I am EXTREMELY IN LOVE with how you write Claude. Thank you so much 🙏🙏🙏

If you take request, I'd love to see a jealous Claude of some sort. Or Claude having a crush on you and he wants to be very tactical about it but fails because for once he also stumbles over his words.

~🌻🌻🌻

Hello Sunflower anon! I promise I hadn't forgotten your ask, I just didn't want to respond until I had something to show for it. Now, here it is! Hope you enjoy! :)

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52063906

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude found himself watching you.

The Leicester Alliance might not have been as...enthusiastic in their celebrations as the kind of feasts that went down in Almyra, but they still knew how to host a party when the situation called for it. The buffet table groaned with a banquet of food that would have been unthinkable just a year or so ago and everyone was dressed in their best outfits, determined to finally enjoy some splendour after fighting their way through some of the bleakest days in living memory.

You were working the room, the goldenrod gown you were wearing rustling across the polished marble floors. He wondered if you had picked out that colour for any particular reason – was it simply because it looked nice on you, or was it some kind of message? A code, if you will.

“A woman’s outfit isn’t just for practicalities, Claude!” He heard Hilda’s voice chiming in his head, something she’d told him once in the old days at the Academy, when he’d once asked why she bothered to wear perfume and earrings to a mock battle. “When you pick out your clothing, you’re making a statement about who you are! And not just the girls – look around you sometime if you don’t believe me!”

He’d been sceptical of this claim initially, but after that conversation, Claude had found himself paying closer attention to how his fellow Golden Deer and other students wore their uniforms and had been both surprised and intrigued to see that Hilda had been right. It was in the little things, like Hilda’s skirt being as short as she could possibly get away with without incurring the wrath of Seteth, while Marianne made sure her uniform covered as much as herself as possible, like she was using the fabric to hide in. Then you had Sylvain with his sleeves rolled up and his hair messy, like he’d just rolled out of bed and couldn’t be bothered to button up the cuffs or front of his jacket. Then you had Lorenz and that ridiculous rose he always wore pinned to his lapel…

Speaking of Lorenz and his questionable choice in accessories, Claude spied the man himself across the room…and there you were, laughing at something he was saying.

An unfamiliar knot of irritation tightened in Claude’s chest, which was ridiculous…Lorenz was your old classmate, after all, so why wouldn’t you be catching up with him? There was plenty to catch up on, after all, especially now that the wore was officially over and Fodlan could breath a sigh of relief…

Yet he still didn’t like the way Lorenz was staring at you, like he’d discovered a rare new species of flower or bird. No doubt you looked even more lovely close up, but Claude wondered if you remembered what Lorenz used to be like around female students at Garreg Mach, to the point that Teach herself had to step in. As the sun poured into the room, catching on the jewellery you were wearing around your neck and in your ears, Claude couldn’t help but wonder what you had been thinking when you chose them, if each item was a tool in your arsenal to be deployed at the key moment…

“Stare, much?”

Claude jolted and turned to see Hilda, who was unsurprisingly in a resplendent pink gown that was clinging lovingly to her curves – if she was trying to convey a message with her outfit, then “Look at me!” seemed to be the end result.

“Hilda!” Claude greeted her, shooting her an easygoing smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “I see that you’re already enjoying the festivities.”

“Oh, there’s plenty to enjoy around here,” Hilda said airily. “But I have to say, you’re not looking as happy as the hero of the hour should be. Are you wishing you’d stayed home in Almyra?”

It was still so strange to hear the other half of him spoken aloud so casually, when he’d been hiding it so painstakingly for five years. Yet it came with an undeniable surge of relief.

“My home is here and Almyra.” Claude replied diplomatically. “Anyway, you think I’d pass up an opportunity to see everyone all together again?”

“Hmm, that’s true.” Hilda nodded, sipping from her glass of champagne. “This is a prime time to start forging diplomatic relations, isn’t it? Looks like those two over there are already making inroads.”

Hilda tilted her head, pink hair slipping off her shoulder, an amused little smile playing about her lips, like she knew something Claude didn’t. She’d always been able to see through him, and vice versa.

So no doubt Hilda had noticed the way that, no matter who Claude was talking to, his eyes kept wandering back to you, tracking you all about the ballroom as though he was worried that the moment he wasn’t making sure you were still there, you might just disappear.

“I thought the war taught you that sometimes you can’t just stand back and watch before you make a move.” Hilda remarked.

“It did.” Claude replied evenly, his green eyes growing half-lidded as Lorenz put his hand on your waist.

“Then go and talk to her! It’s not cute to stand around pouting at your age, you know.”

“Ha! You’re one to talk – you’ll be pouting to get your way until you’re an old lady.” Claude said, imagining an eighty-year-old Hilda in pigtails. “And I know.”

“Good, because it’s so exhausting trying to play matchmaker.” Hilda said, with an affected hair toss, before she spotted someone across the room and gave them a dainty little wave, her fingers fluttering.

“Oh, there’s Caspar! I promised him a dance!” she lilted, before swanning away, the scent of her perfume wafting behind her – Claude caught a whiff of anemones.

“Bet that’s not all you promised.” He murmured under his breath.

Nevertheless, Claude heeded her advice, because as spacy as she might have liked to seem, Hilda was a startlingly perceptive woman under her ditzy attitude. He strode across the room, boots clicking on the polished floors, surging ahead before he could start doing what he always did. Running through various scenarios in his head like he was figuring out his next move in chess, making contingency plans, scheming. It was his fall-back from when he was a scrawny young boy, hiding in the shadows from those who sought to harm him that he couldn’t possibly retaliate against physically. Old habits died hard, despite everything.

“Lorenz! I see your fashion sense has improved since our school days! Well, somewhat.” Claude said in a cheery voice as he approached the two of you. “Remember how people used to ask if you’d tried to cut your hair with an axe?”

“May I remind you, Claude, that you wore the same uniform as me back then?” Lorenz sighed, but it lacked the genuine irritation it once did.

“I see you still like yellow, though.” You said to Claude, turning your head to smile at him, though that smile was teetering on being a smirk.

Claude’s mouth went dry.

“So do you.” He replied. He didn’t mean to say that; it just popped out before he could stop himself. It was unlike Claude to be so concise with his wording, he had always tended to err on the side of verbosity, yet…

Your smile widened and heat spread across your cheeks, and his own mouth curved in a smirk.

“Yes, well, we were just about to dance-“ Lorenz said haughtily, seeming not to notice your reaction to Claude’s comment, and the latter gave a wince of faux-sympathy.

“Ooh, sorry, Duke of Gloucester, but she already promised the next one to me. Did she not say? Ah, for shame, my lady!”

“Oh, right, yeah,” you said, before quickly turning your head to Lorenz. “Apologies, do excuse me. But you know, if you’re looking for a dance partner, why not ask Marianne? She’s been standing over there by herself a while, it would probably be nice for her to see a face she recognises.”

“Ah, yes, what a good idea!” Lorenz said, his face brightening at the suggestion, turning to look across the ballroom. “I had to speak with her about Margrave Edmund’s proposition…”

He wandered off, still muttering under his breath, though it was obvious neither you nor Claude cared whatsoever what he was talking about. Instead, Claude offered a hand with a slightly mocking edge to it, unable to resist bucking against convention.

“Shall we?”

You accepted his hand and he lead you into the middle of the room where several people were dancing, and he saw Hilda shoot him a grin as Caspar somewhat clumsily whirled her around in a blur of pink and blue. Claude rested one of his hands on the small of your back and though the contact was hardly anything risqué, it still sent a bolt of delight through you.

“So you really did mean to dance.” You remarked, falling into step with him almost without thinking about it. You’d been instructed how to dance for formal events like this by your parents when you were younger and as much of an irritating chore as they’d felt at the time, it was like second nature now.

“What else could I have meant?” Claude replied, lifting one hand to twirl you around. “I could have challenged you to a duel, I suppose, but neither of us seem dressed for the occasion.”

“Well, for a second there, I thought you were just going to start grunting and throw me over your shoulder.” You teased, as he pulled you in again. “That was quite the glare you were giving Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.”

“Do you want to be thrown over my shoulder?” Claude asked, tilting his head. “Or would that put a dampener on all your schmoozing?”

“Forging important political alliances, you mean.” You corrected Claude with a smirk. “Goodness, Claude. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were purposefully trying to induce a little jealousy.” Claude replied, eyes sliding down to your lips.

You tilted your chin up, defiantly.

“And if I was?”

There was a small silence, a verbal gauntlet thrown down, and Claude looked at you with an expression that made your insides twist. He reached his free hand out and twined a lock of your hair around his finger, his expression thoughtful.

“Then I’m afraid you’re just going to have to suffer the consequences.”

“Claude…Claude!”

You were sweating. Heated kisses and a warm, muscular body pressing you to the wall would do that to a person. Along with the fact that you were only on the other side of the room from the entire ballroom – if somebody left to get a little fresh air, for example, they might well stumble on the scene of the new Duke of House Riegan kissing you against the wall like a naughty schoolboy. You pulled back, feeling a little dazed.

“I know you like to make risky moves, Claude, but isn’t this a bit much?” you said, a touch breathlessly.

Claude laughed softly, breath tickling your cheek as he moved in closer, pressing his lips to your neck.

“I consider the pros to outweigh the cons in this specific scenario.” He replied in a murmur.

“Which are?” You giggled.

“Pros: I get to put my hands on you,” Claude replied, sucking hard on the skin of your throat, making you gasp. “Cons: Someone might see me put my hands on you.”

“Then why are you doing this in a place where the cons could become a real possibility?” You asked, though you knew the answer already – you just wanted to know if he’d admit to it.

“If you want a gamble to have the best possible payoff, then you have to make sure the risk is big enough.” Claude replied with a wry smile, his fingers squeezing your hips. “Anyway, I didn’t hear you doing much maidenly protesting. Though your mouth was quite occupied at the time…”

You laughed and pulled him down for another kiss, because he was quite right, of course – knowing that other people were there, mooning for someone else across the room but not daring to make a move, or chastely dancing together while secretly wishing they could do so much more, gave you an adrenaline rush you hadn’t felt since you were standing on a battlefield so many months ago. These thrills were less likely to come with the potential cost of your life, but they were exciting in an entirely new way.

“Claude…” you mumbled, leaning into him, resting your hands on his chest, feeling his heart pounding against your palms. It was true you’d wanted to get his attention today – he’d been away in Almyra for months and you’d missed him. Missed his laugh, the easy way he could banter with just about anyone, the sharp line of his jaw and the particular shade of green of his eyes…perhaps going around in a dress the same colour as that cape of his was a little on the nose, but it seemed to have worked.

“Mm?” he seemed preoccupied with your earrings, taking one and giving it a playful little tug, an emerald sparkling between his teeth.

“How long exactly is the hero of the Leicester Alliance expected to stay at the ball until he can flee into the sunset?” you asked, tilting your head.

"Flee? Is that how you see me? Some coward who's always running away at the drop of a hat?” Claude asked, holding a hand to his chest in a parody of shock. "I'm not Bernadetta!"

“I wouldn’t call you a coward,” you said, then paused. “But you do tend to rush from place to place without giving people a chance to say goodbye.”

Understanding dawned across his face, and he ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle.

“I had things to do. But I always intended to come back.” He said, simply. It wasn’t easy feeling torn between two things all the time, but he had hope that now, he could finally act as a whole for the first time in his life.

“Still, a word or two would have been nice…” You said, a little churlishly, unwilling to melt under his touch just yet, not wanting to give up your grievances so easily. You didn’t consider yourself the type to be pining over anyone, but Claude von Riegan wasn’t just anyone.

And here was something you loved about Claude, one of the many things – instead of getting exasperated or defensive at your stubbornness, your unwillingness to just sink into the moment, into him, a slow smile spreads across his face, honey-sweet.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He cooed, cupping your face. “Did you miss me that much?”

The sting of his teasing was mitigated by the way he kissed you next, soft and sensually, the scruff of his beard rubbing against your skin, but you didn’t care, you were too busy kissing him back, lips tingling, sighing against him as his hands squeezed your waist like he didn’t want to let go.

“You know, I think I might be able to make it up to you.” Claude said breathlessly, when you both finally paused for ear. Some of your lipstick was smudging his face and a perverse stab of pride poked you at the sight of it. “If you’re willing, that is.”

“That depends on what it is,” you replied, your lips tingling. You knew you were smiling despite your grumpy tone.

“Oh, you’ll like it. But we’d have to get on my wyvern to see it.” Claude replied, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “Think of it as an adventure.”

An adventure with Claude sounded…well, even a casual conversation with Claude could be exciting, he was the kind of person who could talk about any subject. But to be whisked away into the unknown made your stomach perform a swooping feeling, almost a pre-emptive recreation of what sitting atop a dragon was like.

“So am I being kidnapped now?” You said with an excited giggle, the possibilities opening up to you suddenly making this spacious corridor seem like a prison you’re about to break free from, and Claude laughed back. “Will you stop and write out a ransom first?”

“You know what us Almyrans alike. We just can’t resist something pretty to take for our own.” He teased, pulling your flush against him. “What do you say we have a real celebration?”

His eyes glinted with mischievous intent, reminding you sharply of the emerald earrings you’d carefully slotted into your ears as you were dressing for the ball. You leaned into his embrace, breathing in the scent of Claude, parchment and cloves and pine needles.

“That’s fine with me. I don’t mind being stolen.” You whispered back to him, and his answering kiss sealed the deal.

#claude von riegan #claude x reader #Fire Emblem Three Houses #amostimprobabledream

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whore-for-nohr · 4 years ago

Text

Laslow Fluff Headcanons

No-one asked for these, but I'm having a lot of feelings for this cutie pie right now, so here are some headcanons of Laslow being pursued by an astute reader~ I'll focus on Fates Laslow for this post. These kind of meander so sorry about that...

Laslow/Inigo

It doesn't matter what realm he's in - Laslow's secretly a shy boi. He just covers it by flirting. He's been doing it for so long that he's almost become the mask, but he still gets downtrodden with each rejection. Has to be said, it's partially self-inflicted since he insists on flirting with almost every woman he meets, even the married ones or the ones who could break him like a pretty twig. But I digress. Laslow's a flirty crybaby with a disastrous love life. What a cute little shit.

He's always the one doing the chasing, never the chased. Which is surprising, considering that he's a royal retainer to the future king. You'd think he'd be quite the catch. But alas, his reputation as a consummate flirt precedes him and the only people who seek him out either want to get close to Xander or just want to rob him and tie him to a tree.

Hope springs eternal, but at this point he honestly expects to be rejected by every girl he talks to. So he's taken aback when you say yes. Even worse, he gets horribly flustered when you turn the tables on him and start flirting right back. It's so cute. He goes from suave to red-faced and shy in the blink of an eye, sputtering.

"Oh? You...actually want to? Well, of course! Ah...shall we then?"

He has quick social reflexes so it doesn't take him long to bounce back, but there's a nervous energy to him now. Uncertain but excited. In the back of his mind he's semi-suspicious that you might be another mugger, but Laslow's not one to turn down an opportunity for a tea date. He'll take you to his favourite place. The familiarity makes him feel more confident, and the tea is honestly just that good. Tea is kind of an expensive commodity in Nohr since it doesn't grow well in their climate, so he's splashing out on you a bit.

He's an incorrigible flirt so the compliments come freely and often, but he will tone it down once you both find an equilibrium and start properly talking. He's had a lot of practice talking to people, so I imagine he's picked up on how to draw people out of themselves, while still being a little cagey himself. Laslow's not sure how to feel when his own techniques are being used against him and he finds himself opening up

Don't get me wrong, he won't tell you where he comes from or much about his past. He has to be vague to protect himself and his friends. But he finds himself sharing opinions and thoughts that he's rarely expressed aloud, talking about his day-to-day life and his friends.

In the back of his mind he expects you to start asking questions about Xander, about the Nohrian court, probing for gossip or secrets you can use to your own advantage. But you only seem interested in the things that touch on his life. He gets a laugh when he sheepishly admits he was grounded by Xander for flirting too much.

The date is going so well that Laslow starts to get uneasy. It doesn't show on his face, but he wonders if this is some kind of set-up. You wouldn't think the guy is a cynic but he's been burned a few too many times over the years. If it's not someone trying to rob him, then maybe Selena paid you off to go on a date with him and hit him with a pie or pour tea over his head at some embarrassing, public moment. Okay, maybe that's taking it a bit too far. He'll chill out after a while, I promise.

I think he could even grow to like being chased, rather than be the chaser. At least it's good for his battered lil ego.

#whore-for-nohr #fire emblem fates #fire emblem laslow #fire emblem inigo #laslow #inigo #fire emblem fates headcanons #fire emblem fates imagines #fe laslow headcanons #fe laslow imagines #he's so fucking cute #and kind of a crybaby #why doesn't anyone want to take his ass to tea fr #Admin Cestari

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whore-for-nohr · 4 years ago

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Can we get something sweet (or not) for Felix?

I have just the idea~

Felix Hugo Fraldarius

The point of the blade rose and fell, darting and sweeping through the air like the pen of a calligrapher. The blade was the least part of it. The swordsman’s entire body was an instrument, the driving force behind his weapon. He was a master of his craft.

Or rather, he usually was.

He shifted his weight, bringing the blade in a two-handed downstroke. The angle was off, he could tell. Third time today.

Felix's hands tightened on the hilt until the metal bit into his palms. Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, he forced himself to let it go, let the tension bleed out of his muscles. Frustration wouldn't help him. He wasn't a slave to his emotions, unlike some people.

For once it wasn't Dimitri's ravings or Sylvain's skirt-chasing setting his teeth on edge and ruining his concentration.

He had a stalker.

At any point in time, Felix would have resented being tracked and hunted like a deer in the woods, but especially when it was beginning to affect his training. To make matters worse, he wasn’t being stalked by someone with even a modicum of skill. Did you really think he didn't notice you, peering around the training room doors to watch him train? Those big eyes might as well have been needles, poking his flesh.

All of a sudden, it was too much to bear.

The point of his sword dipped until it touched the dusty, hard-packed earth of the training grounds. He turned a cold stare, like chips of amber, toward the doors.

"Do you need something?" he snapped.

The scowl dropped from his face. Confusion replaced it. The haunting presence was gone, replaced by what looked like a small paper bundle, tied with a thin red ribbon. What in the names of the Saints...?

He was tempted to ignore it and go back to training, but Felix knew from experience that he wouldn't be able to fully commit until he'd investigated. With an eye-roll, he stalked across the training ground and snatched up the bag. The contents shifted, rattling and grating.

Yanking off the ribbon, Felix let it fall to the ground. He stared into the paper bag, eyebrows knitting together.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered.

He reached in and gingerly pulled out one of the things inside, turning it back and forth in the light.

A cookie?

Felix made a noise of disgust. First you watched him like he was some kind of sideshow, then you left him sweets? All that eyeballing and you hadn't picked up on the fact he hated desserts?

Was this your idiotic way of trying to apologise for putting him off his game?

Except...the smell that reached his nose wasn't sugary. The cookie was thin and brittle, surface broken up by what looked like nuts and raisins. Telling himself that it was probably poisoned, Felix put the very corner of the cookie between his teeth and snapped off a tiny chunk.

Ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, raisin, hazelnut. The spice and faint sweetness of the raisins mingled on his tongue. Brittle cookie crunched between his teeth. Before he even thought it through, he'd crammed the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

Fine.

Maybe they weren't terrible.

But just because the offering didn't make him sick, it didn't mean he'd put up with you gawking at him like he was an actor in a play.

"Idiot," he muttered, brushing crumbs off he front of his teal coat.

If pressed, Felix honestly couldn't say whether that had been aimed at you or himself. Carrying the paper bag back across the hall with him, he picked up his sword. Next time, he vowed, he wouldn't let you get under his skin. Or he'd at least get your recipe.

#whore-for-nohr #Felix Hugo Fraldarius #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Felix Hugo Fraldarius Headcanons #Felix Hugo Fraldarius Imagines #fire emblem three houses headcanons #fire emblem three houses imagines #For Felix admirer = stalker #why would you want to WATCH him??#Admin Cestari

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