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hythlodaes · 15 days

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and then came june

emile/leofard 9.2k words [read on ao3] explicit summary: modern AU. when leofard becomes friends with benefits with his university's star quarterback, he never expects to fall for him. (also ty @scionshtola for letting me borrow cori!! ♥)

Chapter One- Spring

Leofard has every reason to feel alone in this world.

He doesn't remember his parents, doesn't know what happened to them, only that he was left to grow up by himself. He used to wonder about his relatives—when other children would talk about grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, and he'd think, Where are mine? Why couldn't they take care of me?

He's long grown out of those thoughts.

At nineteen, he loses the one person that he could call family. Not related by blood, Raimille still loves him as a son, still leaves him everything she has with only one request: that he graduates college. At nineteen, he moves across the country with the car he loves with all his heart, speakers blasting Nirvana the whole way. Years in foster care have taught him never to feel sorry for himself, only to chase the freedom that he finds out here. After watching Raimille waste away with sickness, he chooses life.

And he never feels alone. He meets Stacia at orientation, and she instantly becomes the sister he always wished he had. Over the years he meets friends in classes, at parties, at work, and it becomes a new kind of family—silly, loud, and his.

Then, early spring of his junior year, he meets Emile.

—

It starts with a half joke between Leofard and Stacia at two in the morning, curled up on the couch of their apartment and barely awake after marathoning their favorite movies all day. We should throw a party, Leofard murmurs into the tv flashed dark, and Stacia—his usual voice of reason—doesn't say no.

Their apartment ends up cramped with dozens of college students the next weekend, loud and messy and the kind of thing that makes Leofard laugh until his stomach hurts. He shines under the extra attention, his body warm from alcohol, and it’s the kind of happiness that feels just real enough.

He runs into Stacia as the front door opens again. A bunch of tall, bulky guys spill through, and Leofard may not follow their school's football team the way Stacia does, but she's dragged him to enough games that he recognizes a few of them.

She always says she comes from a football family, and well, that includes Leofard now too.

"God, they're huge," he comments, and he's about to turn his attention away when his gaze catches the last of them ducking under the door. He’s a little taller than the rest, and dark brown hair falls to his chin but he tucks it behind his ear, big eyes searching the room before someone claps him on the shoulder.

The guy smiles, eyes curving into half moons, and Leofard feels the corners of his lips threaten to raise.

Stacia shakes her head. "Leo, I swear if you try to sleep with anyone on the football team..."

"Who said anything about that?" he asks, but this time he lets his mouth pull into a grin. "I'm just appreciating the view."

The night drags on, the music blurs from one song into the next. Leofard feels only slightly hazy—that sluggish kind of drunk that makes the room spin a little slower. He gives into it, hearing his own laughter as a loud and distant sound in his ears.

He finds himself in the kitchen again, a full drink in his hand. Utata sits on the counter, singing along to the music at the top of her lungs, and Leofard keeps his focus on her for a moment too long. In hindsight, it's funny that he doesn't see it coming, but Leofard turns away, knocking into the person behind him, and the entirety of his drink spills onto their shirt on impact.

He has to tilt his head back to meet wide brown eyes, shock evident in the gaze that looks down at him. Leofard recognizes him from when he came in, but he's even cuter up close, where he can make out the freckles on his cheeks, the pout of his lips as he glances down at his shirt.

"Shit, sorry," Leofard says, wincing at the red splotch that trails from collar to hem.

"It's okay," the guy says quickly. His voice is softer than Leofard expected and a little hard to hear over the music. He looks up over Leofard's head and into the kitchen. "I'll just rinse this off."

Leofard almost laughs until he realizes he wasn’t joking.

"Hate to say it, but that's not coming out, baby," he yells over the music. "Come on, I'll get you a new one."

"You'll—" he starts, but Leofard claps him on the back as he walks past him. He leaves no room for argument, and the guy follows him to his room. The door shuts behind them, quieting the party to a dull roar in the background. It grounds Leofard for a moment, steadies him against the blurriness of the alcohol in his system as he goes to his bureau.

“You called me baby,” the guy says, and when Leofard glances over his shoulder, he’s looking around the room, pausing at his desk to pick up one of Leofard's records. He meets his gaze. “This is your apartment.”

“Right on both counts," he answers, and the guy smiles at him. There’s a warmth in Leofard’s chest that has nothing to do with being drunk. "What's your name?"

"Emile." "I'm Leofard."

"I know," he says, and clears his throat. "I've heard about you."

Leofard’s hands still. "Really?"

"Well...I've heard about your car."

"Even better," he says, letting his lips split into a crooked grin. He turns his attention back to the bureau. "Given the obvious, I'm not sure if I have anything that'll fit you."

"You really don't have to, I'm sure this will wash out."

"As much as I enjoy the mental image, do you really want to walk around in a wet shirt the rest of the night?" he challenges, just as he finds an old band tee that's always been way too big for him. When he turns around, he has to smile at the pout on Emile's lips. It doesn't last long, but he continues to stare at Leofard for a moment before his shoulders slump in defeat.

Then he takes his ruined shirt off.

Leofard has to bite down on his tongue—he should look away. He doesn't. His eyes roam along the thick muscle of Emile's chest and up to the line of his broad shoulders, back down the bulk of his arms. Lifting his gaze, he meets Emile's, who watches him watch, something not quite discernable in his eyes before he smiles shyly—it's the tilt of his chin, the curve of his lips...

"Baby, you're something else," Leofard breathes out, and hands him the clean shirt.

Emile rolls his eyes before he puts it on. It stretches around him—where it hangs loose on Leofard, it clings to Emile, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Thank you.”

"Don't mention it," he says, and he shifts his weight between his feet, unwilling to let the moment go. "So what’s this you heard about my car?”

“Oh,” he says. “Some of the guys were talking about it on the way over—said you could hear it halfway across campus.”

Leofard raises his brows, grinning helplessly. “It’s not that loud. Shit, I thought it would be something good.”

"Like what?"

"Like what? I've worked on that car for the last six years of my life, it's perfect. A thing of beauty."

Emile laughs, watching him for a moment longer before he asks, "Will you show it to me?”

That single question sets his mind racing. For a moment, he can see it so clearly: Emile's long legs in the passenger seat, Leofard's hand on his thigh. He'd roll the windows down, stealing glances at his loose hair blowing in the wind while the Shins play over the speakers.

He thinks he’d show Emile anything, if he asked.

"Play your cards right," he says. "I'll even take you for a ride."

Emile laughs again, something closer to a giggle. He must be just as drunk, but he's so cute in Leofard's shirt, his big eyes bright with amusement. “You're flirting with me.”

“Well, you’re the one wearing my shirt.”

“You spilled your drink on mine!”

Leofard grins. “And I almost wish I did it on purpose.”

A blush colors Emile’s cheeks as he turns his head away. “I wouldn’t say no,” he murmurs, and when he looks back, he doesn’t hide the way his eyes cast down Leofard’s body and back up to meet his gaze. He clears his throat. “You know—to a ride.”

Leofard swallows hard. Everything in him says to move closer, to reach out, to touch him, but he holds himself back. “Come on, let's get another drink.”

The sound of the party passes over them as Emile follows him out of his room. They walk down the hall together, but as soon as Leofard makes it to the kitchen, someone wraps an arm around his neck and yells into his ear. Leofard makes out half of the words, but as he looks behind him, it seems that Emile is similarly lost in the crowd.

The stab of disappointment lasts longer than he expects it to.

The night grows weary, the music still plays. Leofard is definitely drunk but it only makes him tired. There are a few times throughout the night when Emile catches his eye across the room, and a small smile crosses his lips. It feels like something secret exists between them—something merely waiting for the right moment.

They collide again.

This time it’s Emile’s hand on his shoulder, holding himself steady as his body sways closer, as he leans down. Distance is a second thought when he fixes those brown eyes on Leofard, lips curving up at the edges in a shy smile.

“I thought you were going to show me your car," he says, his soft voice loud over the music, but all Leofard can focus on is the strength of his grip on his shoulder, and as he blinks at him through the blurry lights of the living room, the only thought on his mind is touch him.

This time he doesn't hold back.

He reaches out to wrap his arm around Emile's waist, hand grazing along his own shirt clinging to his body. He bites down on a grin at the way Emile shifts into his touch, the way his eyes widen when Leofard inches his fingertips beneath the hem, teasing at his warm skin. With their faces this close, Leofard just has to tilt his chin towards him to be heard, keeping his voice deep, quiet. “All you have to do is ask, baby.”

“Please?” Emile murmurs against his ear, and Leofard closes his eyes for a moment. That single word sets the room spinning, keeping in time with the way his heart pounds in his chest. He turns his head towards him, noses brushing for a moment, breath ghosting against each other's lips, and he swallows hard as he pulls away.

“Come on.” Fresh air sounds like a good idea.

He turns his gaze to the door, and Emile is a step behind him as they head outside. There's a few people smoking on the front steps, but in the fuzzy dark they hardly pay Emile and Leofard any mind as they slip around the corner. The streetlights barely reach them here, washing the yard in gray light while everything sits muted and quiet. Only the distant sound of music from the house can be heard, a beat that sinks under the surface of the night.

It's cold, but Emile's body is warm as he crowds him against the side of the house, the excuse of seeing his car all but forgotten. Leofard touches the hem of his shirt again as Emile's head bends towards his, and there's a certain sway to them both, something hazy but desperate, lingering at the boundary line between them.

Leofard crosses first, reaching up to wrap his arms around Emile's shoulders and pull him down into his space, where he meets his mouth with his own. Emile tastes like sugary punch, and he kisses him softly until he parts his lips. Leofard gasps against him, tangling his fingers in his hair as he deepens the kiss, a sound caught in the back of his throat as Emile's hands skim down his back and pull his body against his.

It's the right kind of messy—lacking just enough control to satisfy that desire in his chest. It says I need you without holding back, and Leofard hates how much he wants that from a stranger familiar enough to give it to him.

He pushes further, hands seeking the touch of his skin beneath his shirt, and he moans when Emile slots his thigh between his, as a rhythm begins to build, heavy breaths warming the air between them, and—

"Hey, Emile, are you out here?" comes a voice from the dark.

They break apart. Leofard doesn't recognize whoever calls out towards them, but he keeps his eyes closed as he catches his breath. Emile’s touch shifts to his waist as he leans back in, his voice just above a whisper. "That's my ride home."

Leofard cracks his eyes open. "You're kidding."

“I wish I was.”

He has the thought to offer to take Emile back himself, but he's too drunk to drive. His next thought is to offer to let him stay the night, but he dismisses it the second it comes to mind. The thought of Emile taking his hands off of him is unbearable in this state, but he can't think of another way out.

“Okay, Cinderella,” he relents, and he can see the stretch of Emile’s smile even in the dark. "This was fun."

"It was," he agrees, and for a moment Leofard thinks he's going to kiss him again, but he just shakes his head. "Goodnight."

Leofard watches him walk back towards the lights of the driveway, where the silhouettes of his friends wait for him. Leofard just stares, his head in a daze as he blinks into the night. Emile opens the door to the passenger side of an old jeep, throwing one last look over his shoulder before he gets in.

Headlights pass over the yard and then disappear down the street. Leofard tilts his head back against the house, willing his body to calm down before he goes back inside, where the party slows to a stop. Stacia raises a brow when they meet in the kitchen, but he merely shrugs a shoulder at her despite the disappointment in his chest.

When he finally makes it back to his room, he has to laugh at Emile's stained shirt left on his bed. Cinderella indeed. He tosses it into his closet and crawls under the blankets. The room still spins even when he closes his eyes, but he thinks about the warmth of Emile’s body along his, the press of his lips, and what could’ve happened if they had a little more time.

He lets his hand drift down his stomach—an echo of Emile's touch—but almost isn’t quite enough.

—

It doesn’t stay on his mind for long.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t keep an eye out for Emile on campus—he’d be hard to miss, anyway—but a week goes by, then another, and Leofard lets go of the idea of running into him again. He never mentions it to Stacia, who would only make fun of him for it anyway, he merely chalks it up as a missed opportunity, something that wasn't meant to be.

Where he's content to let it stay, until a few weeks later.

Utata invites him and Stacia over on a Friday night. She says she's throwing a small party, but they all know better. She's one of his only friends that lives with her family off campus, which means whenever her parents are out of town, they have the whole house to themselves.

Leofard walks over with Stacia—they meant to show up early but they're both perpetually late, and the party is in full swing by the time they get there. Cars line the street and the yard, and inside the lights are low, skimming over the crowd in a blue haze. It smells like smoke and like someone spilled punch, which makes him think of a stained shirt, and—

"I'm going to grab a drink," he yells over the music, and Stacia nods at him before she disappears into the packed living room.

He navigates through the crowded hall, and it’s funny how everyone feels a little familiar at this point, strangers faces that he can pick out from classes over the years, from this same party he's been to time and again. It's always the same and yet they keep doing this, keep repeating it because it's the smallest break from the stress of school, from the stress of figuring out what they're supposed to be doing with their lives.

At the end of the hall, he runs into Cori.

They’re bent down in front of Utata’s dog—Pickles, a fluffy collie that's currently nuzzling his face into her lap as they scratch behind his ear. Leofard’s used to seeing them at school, their similar majors all but guaranteeing shared classes over the years, but they've become something like friends at this point.

Mostly they share the same love of cars, which—and he would never admit this to anyone, not even Stacia—Cori is far more knowledgeable of.

"Hey," he says, and a wave of hair cascades over their shoulder when they glance up at him.

“Hi,” they return. "No one was paying attention to Pickles."

“It's a good thing you're here, then," he says. "I was just going to grab a drink, do you want any—“

His voice cuts off as he glances into the kitchen, where his gaze lands on the one person he thought he'd never see again. Big brown eyes curve into half moons as he smiles, loose hair curves around his chin as he talks, the light of the kitchen makes his skin golden.

Emile is here.

“Leo?” It’s Cori who says it, and Leofard barely registers his own name.

"Sorry, I—" he starts, but then Emile looks over, brows lifting when he notices Leofard. A small smile crosses his lips, but someone grabs him by the arm, pulling him out of the kitchen. He lifts his drink towards Leofard for a moment and then he's gone again.

"Someone you know?" Cori asks.

"Yeah," he answers, and he clears his throat, forcing himself to look away. "I'll catch up with him later."

He tells himself that he'll let it happen naturally, that if they run into each other again then he'll talk to him, but it's just a few minutes later that he finds himself fumbling over an excuse to Cori before heading in the same direction that Emile left in.

The music has definitely gotten louder, and the sound of laughter and conversation has risen to match it. The living room is a mess of people dancing and silver balloons that get thrown into the air, skimming along hands raised from the crowd. Emile shouldn't be hard to find, but Leofard doesn't see him anywhere. Maybe he left already—

"Looking for someone?" Emile asks, and Leofard turns towards the sound of his voice. There's something so bright about his brown eyes as he grins. "Hi, Leofard."

"Hi," he returns, and he catches himself smiling back. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Me neither. I owe you a shirt."

"Don't worry about it," he says. "Looked better on you, anyway."

Emile glances away for a moment before huffing out a laugh. "You're so..."

"What—charming?" he suggests.

"Something like that."

"Come on, let's dance."

He immediately shakes his head. "Oh, I'm not much of a dancer."

"No one's judging, baby," he says. "Besides, everyone's too drunk to care."

"Are you?"

Leofard didn't even stop for a drink. "Not yet."

"Me neither," he says. "I have a meeting with my coach first thing in the morning, I shouldn't even be here."

"Miss me that much?"

Emile laughs. "Yes Leo, I've actually spent all this time looking for you."

"Well here I am," he returns. "May as well make the most of it."

Leofard watches him press his lips together, the way his gaze shifts over him as he considers it. His shoulders lower the slightest bit and Leofard smiles, knowing his answer already.

"Fine," Emile says. "One song."

"Before you turn into a pumpkin, yes I remember," he says, and he takes him by the hand into the crowd.

He was right, hardly anyone even looks over at them as they begin to move to the music. The beat is fast and heavy, pulsing through him as he keeps his eyes locked on Emile. They move closer and closer and impossibly closer, and Emile puts his hands on Leofard, long fingers pressing into his waist.

More.

Leofard raises a brow before he turns in his embrace, moving back until he fits against Emile’s chest. Emile’s hands skim down to rest low on his belly, and Leofard covers them with his own as he rolls his hips against him.

Blue dimmed lights, the kiss of balloons against the ceiling, he blinks in and out of a dream. There’s something possessive about Emile’s touch, and Leofard lets his head fall back against his shoulder as the music beats through him. Are both of their hearts pounding? Emile’s head lowers to his neck, and he can feel the warmth of his breath as his lips ghost against his skin—

The song ends.

For a moment, neither of them move.

"You know," Leofard says, turning to face him. "We have unfinished business, Cinderella."

"What do you mean?" he asks, but his hands are still on Leofard, and they inch the slightest bit lower.

"I mean," Leofard starts. "I never showed you my car."

Amusement makes a home in Emile's gaze. “I don’t think that’s what we were doing.”

“No? Maybe we’ll have to try again.”

Emile glances at his lips for a long moment before meeting his eyes again. The next song starts but they don't move, still standing too close, faces angled just right—all it would take is the slightest effort to kiss.

It's been weeks, but it's the same feeling crawling up Leofard's chest.

"Come on," he murmurs. The music drowns out his voice but Emile's hand finds his as he leads them through the crowd. Going outside didn't work for them last time, and he knows Utata would kill him if he took Emile to her room. Still, they go upstairs where the house is emptier, the music is still loud but the sound of voices dims to the background.

They slip into the bathroom.

Silver blue light streams in through the window, echoing across the tiled wall. The silhouette of Emile steps ahead of him, and they stay in the dark, bodies moving closer. Emile is so big and solid and yet he yields to Leofard, lets him crowd him against the sink. It's quiet enough that Leofard can hear the hitch in his breath, the small sound in the back of his throat when Leofard puts his hands on him.

In the dark, their lips meet.

It's better than his drunken memory, sharper without the haze of alcohol blurring the lines between them. His heart races as they rush into it, his own desperation climbing as they continue what was cut short. He kisses Emile's jaw, lips brushing along warm skin as he works down to his neck, and he has to hold back a grin as Emile's hands bunch at his shirt, pulling him closer.

"Isn't this," Emile breathes out, "a bit of a risk?"

"Maybe," Leofard returns, but he lets his hand skim down to Emile's jeans, tugging at the waistband. "I can stop if you want, baby."

Emile pushes his hips into his touch. “Keep going.”

Leofard bites down on another grin before he presses his mouth to his shoulder, hand reaching lower to undo the button of his jeans. Heat surges through him at the sound of Emile's shaky breath, at the crack of his voice loosening into a moan as Leofard finally touches him.

It’s like the rest of the room disappears. Leofard pulls back enough to watch his face, to see his brows push together, his lips part, the way his eyes shut as his head tips back. He does not hide his pleasure, and in the ghost of the moonlight, Leofard is transfixed.

"Wait," Emile murmurs, and Leofard looks up in question when he puts a hand on his wrist to stop him. "I want to—with you."

Leofard is about to ask what he means when he reaches over to tug at Leofard's jeans, a small smile on his lips as he looks up to meet his gaze. His hair is a mess, lips still parted, his big eyes wide as he watches him—Leofard doesn't stand a chance.

He's already close, and he groans openly as Emile takes them both in hand. Somehow they find each other's lips again, and they kiss as their hips work together, the sound of the party all but gone as they pant into each other’s mouths. For a moment, all that matters is the rush of warmth through his body, building with each stroke until his breath catches in his throat.

They’re still kissing when they come.

Leofard tilts his head back, eyes squeezed shut until the feeling begins to fade. The world comes back to him in pieces: the distant sound of music playing, Emile's hand steady on his hip, the room shifting into focus when he opens his eyes again.

He catches Emile's gaze, and they both laugh.

"Utata would actually kill me if she knew."

Emile shakes his head. "I won’t say a word."

And then it's just the two of them in a dark bathroom. They clean up, taking turns washing their hands and fixing their hair and clothes. Leofard almost wants to put the lights on just to see the flush of Emile's skin, but once they're both ready, they slip back into the empty hallway, where a rare question leaves Leofard's mouth: “What if I asked for your number?”

Emile blinks at him for a moment. “Oh, I don't really date. It's kind of hard with my schedule, and I don't want to commit to anything if I'm not sure about it—not that I don't like you! I just don't know if it would be a good idea, or if I'm even in a place to figure that out..."

His voice trails off and his brows push together as he watches Leofard for a reaction.

Leofard laughs.

"Relax baby, I'm not exactly boyfriend material either," he says. "I just wanted to hook up again."

"Oh," Emile says, and he begins to laugh as well. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he returns. "We can leave it like this, too."

Emile bites his lip. "No—no, I'd like to see you again."

"Yeah?" He fishes his phone from his pocket and opens his list of contacts before handing it over. He watches the way the light flashes against Emile's face as he enters his number. It makes his freckles stand out, and it's hard not to stare at the way they cross over his nose. He clears his throat. “I don’t date either, you know.”

“Okay,” Emile says, and he lets their hands brush when he gives him his phone back. “So no expectations?”

“No expectations," he confirms. "We can just be friends."

Emile smiles. “Just friends.”

—

If Leofard knew, in that moment, that Emile was in love with someone else, he probably still would've gone for it.

If he knew how easily his own heart could break, how this conversation would be the one he'd come to regret—

Well.

Maybe that would've made him pause.

—

He sleeps in too late the night day, the sun bright behind his blinds and warming him even as cool air seeps in through the cracked open window. His blanket is in his fist, curled up beneath his chin as he takes in a deep breath and stretches his body out for a moment before relaxing back into his pillow.

He gives himself a few more minutes; it’s been a while since he's felt this good.

It's noon by the time he gets up, and he shuffles into the kitchen with his blanket still wrapped around him. Stacia's at the table with a steaming cup of coffee and an open book, but she stares blankly at the space in front of her. It takes a moment for her to look up at him, and the looming afternoon light only highlights the dark circles under her eyes.

“You good?” he asks.

“Hungover,” she returns. “You?”

He bites his lip for a moment as he recalls last night, the phantom memory of Emile's hands on him, the new phone number in his contact list. “Just tired.”

It’s a testament to her hangover that she doesn’t notice the tone of his voice—light and entirely too pleased with himself—but he leaves her to her coffee while he makes breakfast. Though he is prone to burning most of the food he cooks, he is more than capable of eggs and toast, and he pours himself a cup of coffee to sip at while he works.

Sometimes it's like this: bare feet on the cool kitchen tiles, warm sunlight on his skin, the smell of coffee in the air—moments of the smallest, most simple happiness can happen so unexpectedly.

When he sits back down, he takes a breath and asks, “What do you know about Emile?”

Stacia's head pops up from her book. “Jenidaut?”

“Maybe?” he says, lifting a shoulder. He doesn’t have a clue what his last name is. Through a mouthful of toast, he says, “He’s on the football team.”

“Yeah,” she answers. “He’s the best quarterback this school has ever seen. He’s a sophomore and there were already rumors of a Heisman this season.”

Leofard just blinks at her.

“You've seen him play. Do you remember that playoff game last year?" she tries. "They put him in at the last second and he caught the game winning pass—I lost my voice from screaming."

See, he remembers actually going to the games, but as far as what happens during them? “I thought Emile was the quarterback...”

“Well not at first, but Varlineau injured his shoulder and Emile took his place,” she says. “You really weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“I pay attention,” he argues, but quickly relents at the look she gives him. “Just not that much.”

She shakes her head. “Why are you even asking about him?”

Hands on his body, head tipped back with a groan, the heat of his skin—Leofard clears his throat. "I might've hooked up with him last night."

"What," she exclaims, and he has to laugh at the way she sits up, eyes wide, her hangover all but forgotten. "The hell, Leo, why wouldn't you start with that? Tell me everything!"

It starts in their own apartment, it starts with a stained shirt, it starts with kisses that lead nowhere in the dark. It leads to last night, to their dance, familiar enough with each other to push them over the edge. He brushes up against the details, skims past them, but he fails to hide his smile at the memory of the two of them slipping away from the rest of the party.

He can tell that she notices, but all she says is, “So, what—are you going to call him?”

“Probably,” he says, lifting a shoulder. The truth is, he can’t imagine passing up another opportunity to see him, but he just smiles before he takes another sip of coffee—

“We’ll see what happens.”

—

He gives it a couple days.

It crosses his mind while he partakes in his favorite activity—laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, music playing too loud while he ignores his homework. He can't seem to focus, mind spinning between thoughts but unable to land on one, and he turns his attention to his phone laying at the other end of his bed.

Emile would make a better distraction.

Still, he stares for a long moment without moving, and the second he wonders if he's nervous, he gets up and makes himself call.

It rings a few times before the soft sound of Emile's voice comes through. "Hello?"

Leofard smiles. "What's this I hear about you being a hotshot quarterback?"

There’s a beat of silence, and then: “Leofard?”

"Who else?"

He hears him laugh. "And you call me a hotshot."

"Am I wrong?" he says. "My roommate was just talking about some play you did last season, thought I'd see if it’s true."

“Yes, it's true,” he says. "Is that the only reason you called?"

"No," he returns, biting down on another smile. "Let's go for a drive, I'll pick you up."

"In the infamous car that I still have yet to see?"

"The one and only."

"Alright," he says. "Give me a half hour."

He tells him where his dorm is, and Leofard gives himself approximately twenty minutes to look nice before he has to leave. One glance in the mirror, he ruffles up his curls and takes off his old sweatshirt and replaces it with his favorite beat up denim jacket.

Stacia is in the living room when he comes out of his room, and she takes one look at him and raises a brow. "Off on a date?"

"It's not a date," he says, grabbing his keys.

"Off to get laid?"

This time he laughs. "I'll catch you later."

"Be safe, have fun!" she calls out after him.

Early evening means the campus is quiet. Leofard lived in the dorms his freshman year before moving in with Stacia, so he's familiar with them. He navigates across campus to Emile's building, biting down on a grin at the sight of him waiting on the front steps.

Emile looks unfairly good, simply in a sweatshirt and jeans, hair falling loose from his ponytail. He looks up and waves.

Leofard is in trouble.

"Hey, gorgeous," he says as he gets in the car.

“Hi,” Emile says, smiling in that shy way. His attention turns to the dashboard. "So this is it."

"This is it," he says. "What do you think?"

"It's nice."

His voice tips up at the end, almost like a question, and Leofard can't help but laugh. “You sure about that?”

“I don’t know anything about cars,” he admits. “But it's pretty."

"I've always been obsessed," Leofard says as he pulls out of the parking lot. "I got my first job just so I could buy it."

He worked every day after school. Raimille wanted to pay for it for him but he wouldn't let her, convinced he needed to prove that he could do it himself. Part of him regrets it, if only for how much time he unknowingly lost with her.

"I like that,” Emile murmurs, the sound of a smile in his voice as they take to the tree lined streets, headlights coasting over gravel. "You know, I never actually learned how to drive."

“Shit, baby, I’ll teach you,” he returns. "Why not?"

"I was just busy with football, I guess," he says. "And my friends were always willing to drive me."

"So football is your thing."

There's a long pause, but then, "Yeah, I guess."

Leofard's brows dip down. "Not your thing?"

"I don't know," Emile answers, and there's a slight laugh in his voice. "I don't love it anymore. Not the way I used to, at least."

"Stacia says you're the best quarterback this school has seen."

"Stacia?"

"My roommate," he says. "Which is an understatement—she's more like an annoying sister. And my best friend. She's the biggest fan in the world, drags me to your games sometimes."

"You've seen me play?"

"Don't get too excited—it's kind of like you and my car," he explains. "I don't know anything about it, but it's pretty to look at."

Emile laughs. "You're such a flirt."

"And you've got a nice ass," he returns. "Are we just stating the obvious?"

"Leo."

"Yes?"

In his peripheral, Emile shakes his head. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know," he answers. The evening begins to settle into night, deep hues of the sky bleed into the orange sunset peering through the spaces between trees. Leofard smiles to himself. "Don't you ever just want to get out for the sake of getting out?"

"That's usually when I go for a run."

He glances over at Emile, getting the feeling that there's far more to him, but he won't ask. "Then let's see where it takes us."

It takes them across town for ice cream, which takes them to an empty park. It's too cold to get out, so they sit in the parking lot, music playing softly while they talk. He learns that Emile's from Maine, that his eyes light up when he talks about his sisters, and that he's a music major. He brushes it off when Leofard asks, but he sounds more excited about playing guitar than he does about football.

He learns that Emile is a good listener, even if the spoon at his lips is distracting, and Leofard ends up talking the night away. Everything from school to work to his car. He doesn't mention Raimille, doesn't mention family at all, because he never wants his loss to define him.

And then it's sugar sweet kisses in the dark, Leofard fumbling over the console to settle in his lap. It's cramped against the roof of the car, but nothing else matters when Emile's lips are on his, when his hands roam up his thighs as his heart picks up a beat, breath growing heavy as their kisses deepen.

Emile reaches up to tangle his fingers through his curls, pulling him that much closer, and Leofard rolls his hips against his, grinning when he moans into his mouth. At twenty two, he feels like a teenager getting off in his car again, something secretive and exciting about it. Emile kisses his neck and he can't help but let his head fall back, giving into it as it overwhelms him.

He stays in Emile's lap afterwards, head on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck. Neither of them say anything for a moment, but Emile's hands linger on his back, smoothing over him in an absent rhythm. It doesn't last long, but it's nice.

When Leofard pulls away, they smile at each other as he reaches up to pat Emile's hair down, and they clean up the best they can before he scrambles back into the driver's seat.

He turns the music up as they drive back to campus, the windows cracked and leaking in cool air. Each time he looks over at Emile, he's staring out the window, and Leofard can't tell if he's okay or not, but maybe he just doesn't know how to accept something peaceful.

He pulls up to Emile's dorm, but Emile stays a little longer, looking over at him with a soft expression.

"You should call me again."

Leofard grins. "You can count on it, baby."

—

It begins in a bathroom of a crowded party, and what starts as intermittent, becomes frequent.

They learn each other's schedules, and between classes and Emile's workouts and Leofard's job, they find time during the week to hang out. Since Emile lives in a dorm, they always meet at Leofard's apartment—Leofard either picks him up, or Emile will walk over—and in the privacy of his room, he finds out just how much better it can get.

That first shirtless glimpse of Emile the night they met couldn't have prepared him for the sight of him stretched out naked in his bed. Leofard can hardly look away, can never keep his hands to himself, always tracing his fingertips along warm skin. They learn the ways their bodies fit together, how to say more and now through touch, through breathless gasps, through the way their eyes meet, tangled up and not letting go until they're whispering jokes and giggling into the small space between them.

Whenever they finish, Emile doesn't leave right away. He never stays the night, but they always end up talking for hours, about school and friends and life, video games and tv shows, or stories about Leofard's job at the pizza shop down the road. One time they watched a marathon of Saved by the Bell while they ate leftovers from the fridge, and Leofard ended up driving him back to his dorm at three in the morning, Elliott Smith playing softly to fill the tired quiet between them: I’d say you make a perfect angel in the snow.

Leofard has had friends with benefits before, but this is the first time it feels like they're actually friends.

It's nothing more, despite what Stacia says. She's only run into Emile a few times in the apartment, but she always raises a brow with a smirk, always teases Leofard the next day about his boyfriend coming over.

Leofard just laughs it off.

He's too young to be tied down, too selfish to be good at a relationship. The thought of trying to make this romantic sounds exhausting, like a performance neither of them know the steps to. What exists between them is the easiest thing in the world—he couldn’t be happier with this arrangement.

No expectations, they’d said, and it was a good idea.

It begins to change with this:

Early May means finals, and with one year left of school, one year left of his promise to Raimille, Leofard needs to make sure he passes these classes. The only one that gives him trouble is his English paper—he's never been good at planning or gathering sources, and he keeps putting it off until he has ten pages due the following day, and maybe two done, at most.

It becomes a marathon to finish on time, surrounded by stacks of books and a perpetually full cup of coffee at his side, but he gets frustrated with himself again and again as he loses focus. He stares at his laptop for so long that his vision feels a little blurry, so when his phone rings, he accepts the distraction for what it is.

"Hello?"

"Hey," says Emile on the other end of the line, voice soft.

Leofard bites his lip as he stares at the ceiling. "What's up?"

Emile is quiet for a moment, and then: "I was wondering if you're free tonight."

Leofard spares a glance at his laptop. "Shit, I wish I was, but I’m going to be stuck working on this paper all night."

"That’s okay," Emile says, and there's something distant and strange about his voice, but Leofard can't tell whether or not he sounds disappointed. "I don’t want to—we don’t have to have sex.”

Leofard frowns at the ceiling. They've never hung out for any other reason. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just…” he trails off again. “Sorry, I’ve been having a really hard day, and I don't want to be alone. My friends ask too many questions and I—I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So I’m an option because I don’t care?” he jokes.

“God, no, that sounds terrible,” he says quickly. “You’re just…easy to be around, Leo.”

Leofard’s left with the sound of his heart beating in his chest. For a moment, his thoughts blur together and it feels like he only hears himself say, “Come over."

Emile lets out a soft breath. "I promise I won't distract you."

Something in Leofard's stomach twists uncomfortably, and he wants to tell him that that doesn't really matter. What comes out instead is, "Do you want me to come get you?"

"No, I'll be okay," he says, and pauses. "Thank you."

Leofard has a hard time focusing on his paper after that, unsure of why it bothers him so much. He gets a single sentence done by the time there's a knock on the door, and Leofard gets up to answer it before he can think better of his appearance.

He regrets it when the door opens and Emile’s expression shifts into a grin. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

Leofard scrunches his nose as he looks down at his outfit—an old baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. “Sorry I didn’t get dressed up for you, baby.”

“No, I like this,” he says as he steps inside. “You look comfy.”

It's difficult not to be affected by those brown eyes steady and warm on him, the softness of his smile. “Don’t get any ideas, I will indulge them.”

Emile laughs. “I’ll be good. Look, I brought my books so I can study too.”

He holds up his bag. Leofard shakes his head. “Do you ever get tired of being so cute?”

He lets him inside, and he ignores Stacia’s grin as she glances up at them from the couch. Emile stops to greet her while Leofard goes to his room, where his laptop is still open, books spread out everywhere. He cleans off a space for Emile on the bed, who merely raises a brow before settling in beside him.

It feels oddly intimate. They work separately but they're merely inches apart, brushing elbows and passing books and stray comments. Leofard wasn't sure he'd get anything done with Emile here, but he finds it easier to focus with someone beside him.

For the most part, Emile seems fine. Leofard finds his thoughts drifting towards what could've happened today that he's having such a hard time, but he can't ask—Emile specifically came to him because he won't ask. Still, it doesn't stop him from worrying. They know each other but they don't, their intimacy is limited to the physical, and that's all they wanted, right?

He doesn't know why he can't stop thinking about it.

It becomes more obvious as the night goes on. Emile doesn't move for several minutes at a time. Leofard gets through half a page of his paper without Emile turning a single page of his book, and when he looks over, Emile’s gaze is fixed blankly at the space in front of him, worrying at his lip with his free hand. It takes too long for him to notice Leofard watching, but he offers him a closed lip smile when he does. Leofard smiles back.

With two pages to go, it creeps past midnight. Leofard is ready to throw his laptop out the window when Emile's book slips from his hands onto the bed. He looks over to the dull light of the lamp casting shadows over his face pressed into his pillow, eyes closed and chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm as he sleeps.

Leofard stares for far too long.

He half asses one more page, makes the margins and the spaces between lines bigger so that it goes onto another, and closes his laptop. Emile shifts but he doesn't wake up, and Leofard debates for a moment what to do. To wake him and send him home seems cruel, especially if he's having a bad day. To let him stay here feels...too close.

Carefully, he gets up to brush his teeth, but by the time he gets back he still hasn't decided. He stands in the doorway of his own room, watching the late night shadows cast over the shape of Emile in his bed, and something tugs in his chest. He closes the door with a soft click and crawls back in beside him, pulling the blanket over them both.

This time Emile stirs, eyes blinking open slowly. "Leo?"

"Hey," he says, his voice whisper soft. "You fell asleep."

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

"Just stay—it's too late to walk back and I'm too tired to drive."

He doesn't think that either of these things are true.

Emile is quiet for a moment, but then, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice drifting off. He reaches over to turn off the light. "Of course, baby."

He can't remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone—maybe not since his second foster home, when the other kids would come to his room at night and he'd tell them stories until they fell asleep. He takes a deep breath at the memory, and watches the ceiling until his eyes grow used to the dark. Judging from the sound of Emile's breathing, he falls back asleep quickly, and Leofard lets his head turn towards him, foolishly wondering what it would be like to reach out and touch him.

He closes his eyes and waits for all of it to pass.

—

The sun spills into the room through Leofard’s cheap blinds, paled light that still stirs him awake. There’s a weight around him, something solid that seeps warmth into his body, and his brows furrow for a moment before it comes back to him.

Right. Emile stayed the night.

Leofard knows their size difference well, but for the first time he lets himself catalog it—the way Emile’s broad chest spans past his shoulders, his heavy arm curled around his waist, and his cheek pressed to the top of his head. Each point of contact says you’re safe, and to Leofard’s surprise, he doesn’t mind.

He’s never needed anyone. He’s never wanted anyone like this, but he isn’t awake enough to overthink it as he lets himself inch further back into Emile’s space, sliding his arm along his to cradle it against his chest.

Blinking through the dust dazed light, he breathes in time with him—something steady to pull him back under as his eyes fall closed.

Distance will be easier in the morning.

—

Except—then he's alone.

He wakes faster this time, but the only evidence that Emile was here at all is the rumpled blanket beside him. Something in his chest pulls at the sight, but he refuses to call it disappointment. Leofard wouldn't have woken him to say goodbye either, if their roles were reversed.

Putting on his glasses, he glances at the clock to see that he still has a couple hours to submit his paper, and he chooses to ignore his laptop in favor of coffee.

He stretches out his back as he gets up, but there's a crick in his neck from spending all day working on his paper yesterday. It's forgotten the moment he opens his door and hears the sound of voices trailing from the kitchen. He frowns to himself, but when he turns the corner, Emile and Stacia sit at the table eating breakfast, so deep in conversation that neither of them notice him.

"I trust you saved me some coffee?" he asks, interrupting. They both look up, and there's a sly smile on Stacia's face and an earnest one on Emile's. He doesn't know how to process the way it makes him feel.

"Sorry, you're on your own," Stacia says.

Emile laughs. "There's some left."

Leofard still just blinks at both of them before he goes to pour himself a cup of coffee, his brain struggling to catch up with the situation, and for once in his life he's quiet as he listens to them talk about football. Stacia's voice is bright and more excited than he remembers it ever being, and Emile indulges her, going back over specific plays and explaining the story behind them.

“That pass from Estinien,” she says, and apparently it’s all she needs to say. Leofard watches the twitch of Emile’s mouth, the way he looks down at the table as he runs a hand through his hair.

“It was his idea,” he says quietly. The memory seems to come to him, and he smiles a little to himself before he looks back at Stacia. “We used to practice those kinds of throws together all the time—it only worked because no one was expecting it.”

But before Stacia can say anything, he continues, "I should probably go, though. I have a final at noon."

"I'll drive you back," Leofard offers before he can think about it.

Emile glances at him, his expression soft. "Thank you. I'll go grab my books."

Leofard just nods as he gets up and leaves the kitchen. He wants to ignore the look on Stacia's face but it's impossible with the way her lips curve into a smug grin.

"Your boyfriend stayed the night,” she says the moment he’s out of earshot.

"Stacia," he returns, not quite a warning but more of you know it's not like that. "He fell asleep, I wasn't about to kick him out."

"Of course not." She takes a sip of her coffee, and just when he thinks she's going to let it go, she says, “I’m assuming you were the little spoon.”

“Stacia.”

She laughs, but then her voice turns a shade softer. "He's a sweet guy."

"He is," Leofard lets himself admit, and he stares in the direction that Emile left, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to tell her we didn’t have sex last night.

Because there's a limit to their relationship. There is a defined boundary, and last night doesn't fit within that. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. A moment later, Emile bounds back into the kitchen, bag slung over his shoulder and surely way too energetic for this early in the morning. Leofard just smiles. "Ready?"

The drive back to his dorm takes only a few minutes, but Leofard can't help but sneak little peaks at him along the way. The windows are down because they’re always down, and Emile’s hair blows with the wind while music plays softly, morning light along his profile. Leofard tries not to think about his body curled around his, different from the way they usually touch, and ignores the thoughts that creep into the back of his mind.

He parks outside Emile's dorm, and Emile turns towards him.

"Thank you," he says, his voice so earnest that, for a moment, Leofard can't return his gaze.

"Of course," he returns, and he thinks too hard about what to say next, settling on, "Did it help?"

"It did," he says with a nod, and he leans in close, sliding a hand along Leofard's jaw as he pulls him in for a soft kiss. Leofard gasps against his mouth but leans into it, letting his lips part against his and lingering for too long.

“As a promise for next time,” Emile murmurs against his mouth.

“Next time,” Leofard echoes, opening his eyes as he pulls away. “Let’s celebrate when finals are over.”

Emile smiles. "Good luck!"

He gets out, and Leofard is left to watch him go. Something stirs within him, a feeling that is both unfamiliar and unwelcome, and as the door to the dorms closes behind Emile, Leofard stares for a long moment before he looks back at the road.

Under his breath he mutters, “What the hell...”

He goes for a drive.

#oc: emile jenidaut #leofard myste #emile/leofard #modern au #screaming forever !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i've been thinking about this AU for a long time now #and it's been so long since i've posted anything #but this project means a lot to me and i have so many plans for them i'm just sdjfsdf yelling #and this might not be a good time to post but i need to finish packing o7 #my writing

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llflorence · 3 months

Text

When you are old - Human AU, RatedE, Professors

Sleeping with Crowley was —well, it wasn’t sleeping, that was for sure. Aziraphale was constantly in contact with at least five groping, greedy fingers for the duration of the night. The funny part was that it didn’t matter he got little to no rest. His heart and his bed were full, and Crowley seemed over the moon with the extra touch. As if starving for it.

Although whatever they had was novel and embarrassingly exposed, it was also strangely familiar. The slide of skin over clean sheets until bony feet made contact with his own. A content sigh tickled the hairs at the back of his neck. A tentative whisper in the darkened room, spoken quietly enough not to wake a sleeping bedmate, but loud enough to understand if aware.

Aziraphale chose to ignore it this time, the gentle, “Angel? You asleep?”

(Well, not ignore, but pretend, rather. Crowley seemed so worried about Aziraphale that he couldn’t have slept much either).

Back to Crowley’s front, facing the wall and in no hurry to escape from his dually occupied bed, Aziraphale waited half a moment to see if the man would repeat the question or give up and finally close his eyes. Instead, Crowley withdrew. His limbs snaked out from their tangled place with Aziraphale’s, and the bed shifted, and –

“Where are you going?” Aziraphale asked, turning to catch Crowley by the wrist as he slid one foot to the floor. It was impossible to determine what the time was with the curtains drawn tightly and his phone somewhere in the kitchen downstairs. But it felt like it was much too late, similar to oversleeping on a weekday when he had an early class.

“Shhh,” Crowley hushed, chuckling slightly. He wrung Aziraphale’s hand in his own and pulled his other leg from the sheets as well. “I’m just going to pop home for a change of clothes. I’ll be back. I promise.”

Aziraphale sat up quickly and flung the bedthings out of the way. “I’m coming with you.”

‘Home’ was an umbrella term that covered many things. The stifling one-bedroom was four walls and a roof at the top of the stairs inside an old home converted into a four-story frat house. The snowbanks in the alleyway were littered with discarded bottles and cans, and a half-full hot tub sat tilting to one side on its trailer, leaves and branches frozen into the murky surface. How Crowley got any peace and quiet in a party house like that –

“Now you see why I don’t mind the drive up north to Uncle Fur Fur’s place.”

Aziraphale did see. Even with the hoarder’s clutter and cat smell. At least they hadn’t needed to step over a minefield of vomit pools on the way back to the car.

It was nine when they took to the road again. Crowley insisted there was plenty of time to stop for coffee before heading back to Aziraphale’s for a shower before church. Imagining steaming water pelting tan, freckled skin and dripping from red hair, however, had Aziraphale insisting they take it to-go.

Standing front to front, lathered and warm and smiling, Aziraphale tried to convince Crowley that they really didn’t need to go anywhere. It was cold outside, and it was warm in. Surely they should take advantage of the fresh sheets, free of stains and wrinkles and ready for another round. Mischief glinted in the amber eyes, then, and Aziraphale’s back hit the shower wall a little forcefully. But Crowley’s elbow nudged the cold water handle, and both screeched when their steamy encounter suddenly turned to ice.

“You did that on purpose!” Aziraphale spluttered as Crowley yanked the towel off the bar and flung it between their bodies. He hugged it against Aziraphale, laughing gayly.

“I swear to all things unholy that it was an accident! Now, you stay in here and make yourself pretty. I’m going to dress in the bedroom so that we’re not late for church.”

Aziraphale obeyed with reluctance. He really didn’t want to leave the house again, not now that he knew how frigid the January morning truly was. But he steeled himself, ran through his normal routines only sightly distracted. And when he emerged from the bathroom to find Crowley in black high heel boots and much too tight leather pants with a black jacket, the fit of which gave him curves Aziraphale didn’t know existed?

Well.

“Too much?” Crowley asked, half angelic and half demonic.

“Not at all.”

Aziraphale wasn’t lying. Anthony J. Crowley grew infinitely more stunning the vaguer his gender became.

Crowley parked the car at the end of the middle row. He got out first, opened Aziraphale’s door and offered a hand with a cheeky wink.

“My Dear,” he said, plumes of condensation circling his head. Aziraphale swooned and thought he looked just like an angel.

Arm in arm, shoulders pressed close and footsteps in sync, Crowley led him across the lot toward the front door. Aziraphale quietly took in the other churchgoers around them with the same destination. He wondered how long it would take for —

“Mr. Fell!” a familiar boy’s voice called out from the row of cars behind them. Aziraphale glanced up at Crowley, and they both looked over their shoulders.

It was Adam.

“Hello, Mr. Young,” Aziraphale said, waving as the boy hurried through the parked cars to catch up. His smile was welcoming as he trotted to a halt beside them.

He eyed Crowley with interest.

“Your parents here already, Dear?” Aziraphale asked.

Adam nodded. The pom-pom on his large stocking cap jiggled. “Yeah. I got to drive myself today!”

“Oh! Well done!” Aziraphale crowed. He hadn’t been to church in months, but he remembered how excited the boy had been about getting his license.

“Thanks!” he beamed, and then held out a hand to Crowley. “I’m Adam. Adam Young.”

“Anthony Crowley.”

Aziraphale watched the grinning exchange and felt slightly less nervous.

“I gotta run,” Adam said, bouncing on his heels as he backed away. “Mum wants me to help with the luncheon!”

“Off you go.”

He waved and hurried off. Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s arm.

“Well, he’s friendly then!”

Aziraphale’s nose was beginning to run. He urged Crowley onward. “Yes. Nice boy. Now, can we please get inside before we turn into popsicles?”

Crowley chuckled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. The warmth of his breath fogged Aziraphale’s soul. “Good thing you’re just so hot, Angel.”

They hurried across the driving lane and up onto the sidewalk. Crowley wrestled the heavy door open and Aziraphale walked through. But he did it alone, and as he looked back to see what was the hold up, Crowley waved over the tops of several people’s heads.

Once one opens a door —

Smiling, loving the curious looks of forced politeness on patrons’ faces, Aziraphale removed his coat and hung it on a hanger. He then stepped out of the hall and leaned against the far wall to watch.

Crowley wasn’t faking anything. He grinned and greeted each person as if he were particularly happy to see them. He received several thank yous as he was graced with casual Midwestern indifference. A head taller than most who passed, he looked as if he had been hired by the church. If the pastor had the guts to employ a flaming redhead whose shirt was so scandalously open in the front (and who was not wearing a proper coat in the dead of winter).

Aziraphale quite enjoyed himself, felt his heart fluttering each time Crowley smiled at him. He could have stood there all morning watching as his lover exuded charm and confidence and a steady stream of unabashed flirting.

“Let me get that for you,” Crowley said to Old Widowed Mrs. West, who lived two streets to the east and never tired of the joke. She was carrying a tray of brownies, which were tipping precariously as she reached for the stair railing.

“Oh!” Surprised, she looked into Crowley’s eyes and gave up the pan without a fight. “Thank you!”

“No worries.”

Crowley caught on that she was having trouble with the stairs, and he reached for her elbow with his other hand, propping the door with his foot and juggling everything like an experienced entertainer.

Aziraphale strode across the hall to help, greeting her and offering his arm instead. She accepted it and smiled at Crowley, then shamelessly admonished Aziraphale for slacking on his duties.

“And where have you been, young man?” Her sweetness soured. “Your mother would roll over in her grave if she found out you have been skipping church!”

Mrs. West had never met his mother and was only making assumptions. His atheist mum hadn’t set foot inside a church since Aziraphale was a child. But, since he wasn’t completely certain about the afterlife and didn’t dare make his challenge in a designated holy place, “She would indeed.”

Crowley sidled in close, chin hovering somewhere north of Aziraphale’s ear. The lanky man’s sternum poked into his shoulder, and Aziraphale watched, amused, as Mrs. West’s eyebrows rose like elevators into her hairline.

“Oh! This is Anthony Crowley,” Aziraphale said, face flushing instantly hot as he fumbled over words he normally had strict control over. “He’s my — my —“

“We work together at the college,” Crowley supplied, quickly offering a hand to shake and smiling beatifically at the older woman. “And I must say, these brownies smell fantastic! I’m sure everyone harrasses you for the recipe!”

Mrs. West gazed at the pan of sweets perched vicariously in one of Crowley’s elegant hands. She looked to Aziraphale, then back at Crowley. She shook her finger.

“And don’t you try to get it out of me, Mr. Anthony Crowley.” She said it like a curse word as she tapped the side of her head. “I don’t share with just anyone. My secrets are safely locked away up here.”

Crowley bowed slightly. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Would you like me to take them downstairs for you?”

Mrs. West considered the dilemma, shifted her eyes back and forth as people jostled around in their attempts to remove jackets. “Yes. But be careful. The frosting hasn’t quite set yet, and if the pan tips it will all slide to one side.”

Crowley quickly straightened and held the dessert in both hands. “Right. Will do.”

And then to Aziraphale. “Save me a seat?”

All he could do was nod and watch closely as a perfect pair of buttocks moved down the stairs and disappeared.

Mrs. West left him for the coat rack with a strong, judgmental look, greeting others in her matronly way. Meanwhile, Aziraphale felt suddenly lost and unmoored; he really hadn’t ever felt as if he fit in.

That was when Breann and her cronies noticed him.

“Aziraphale!” the woman bellowed, rushing up and taking a hug without asking for permission. “It’s so good to see you! How are you?”

A professional busybody, followed closely by her cousin and best friend, she reminded Crowley of the wicked stepmother and her evil stepdaughters.

“I’m well. Breann.” He didn’t want to say too much or she’d dive into stories of her dramatic life, self-induced, no doubt.

She studied him with narrowed eyes, and Aziraphale had the feeling that she could tell he’d been properly rogered the night before.

Breann smirked triumphantly. “You look well. In fact, I’d say you look positively radiant! Is it possible that you’ve finally found someone to fill the gaping hole in your life?”

Aziraphale bristled as he always did, but had vowed ages ago not to let it tarnish his solitary lifestyle.

He quite enjoyed the unintended double entendre. She thought she was being funny.

“Hmm,” was all he said as he began to make his way into the main hall.

The thing about churches in the Midwest was that people didn’t like change. They parked in the same spot, brought the same thing for lunch afterward. They expected the stand up, sit down of the service, the hymns, the mindless droning of memorized prayers. And they really, really didn’t like when others sat in their chosen pews.

Aziraphale, although he was there with Crowley after he’d been with Crowley, didn’t want to rock the boat. He took a seat in the section reserved for guests, sinking onto the hard wooden surface and realizing the dull ache in his lower regions. It was suddenly very apparent that he was going to have a difficult time sitting still, and he was, for once, looking forward to the congregational up and down to come.

Minutes passed. And then, some more. Aziraphale glanced at his phone and realized it had been fifteen of said minutes and Crowley still hadn’t returned. The room was nearly full, and proceedings were about to begin. He pushed off of the bench and made his way into the foyer and down the stairs to the basement.

And, there, moving with graceful sliding steps, carrying a chair in each hand and smiling like an angel, Crowley was helping the lunch ladies with set up.

Aziraphale paused at the bottom of the stairs to watch. Adam and his mother were there, along with the other soccer moms, and one dad, smiling and chatting and otherwise making nice. It was domestic and it was endearing, and Aziraphale was reminded of the way Crowley taught his lectures. Casual. Lighthearted. Friendly.

“Hello!” Crowley said as he unfolded and set up what looked like the last of the chairs. His face was slightly flushed and his breath labored. “Sorry! Got wrangled into some hard labor. I think it’s all done now. Right? Diedre?”

Adam’s mother waved from the kitchen. “Yes, thank you!”

Crowley approached with an infectious glee and bumped shoulders with Aziraphale. “I couldn’t say ‘no,’ could I?”

No, he couldn’t.

The service was an eye-opening event. Crowley sat closer than sin in the pew, his hand wrapped around Aziraphale’s and knocking their knees together. He smiled and nodded, just like any decent god-fearing churchgoer would. And when it came time for the hymns, when they had to reach into the shelf on the pew ahead to search for the correct page in the hard-backed hymnal, Crowley took over with practiced confidence.

And, oh! Crowley could sing! Low and sweet and clear as a bell, perfectly in tune and without mixing up any of the words. Aziraphale found himself merely mouthing along, gazing sideways at the vibrations of Crowley’s throat and wanting to swallow him whole.

The parade out of the church and into the basement was filled with the steady hum of conversation, but all Aziraphale could hear was the contented purr inside his own chest.

Breann cornered him in the food line, laying a hand on the arm tucked into Crowley’s. Her eyes wide, she looked ready to pounce on the both of them. “Well? Are you going to introduce me?”

Aziraphale realized he wasn’t prepared in the least. He’d imagined this moment for a long, long time. Taking charge of his narrative and finally being his true self.

But he found he didn’t have the desire to rub his private life in everyone’s noses. He was happy, and Crowley was amazingly – everything. And what did it matter what nosy, chaotic Breann thought of him?

“Anthony Crowley,” his escort said, voice full of pride and joy. “Professor of Cosmology at the U. Pleasure to meet you.”

Breann was instantly smitten. She practically gushed as Crowley shook her hand. “Oh! You’re a professor too!”

“Yup! Not as intelligent and handsome as Aziraphale here, but apparently he finds me worthy of his companionship!”

Aziraphale silently watched the back and forth, loving the way Crowley stroked the inside of his wrist. Held him tightly as he answered Breann’s unending questions. Unashamed and Unbothered.

They tested various hotdishes and buns, were tempted by a table full of sugary treats. They drank the crappy percolated coffee and Crowley greeted everyone with that same dashing smile. Aziraphale sat by him like the wallflower he was, and when it was time to leave, when people began to make their way up the stairs to gather their coats, he discovered the tightness in his chest and the ache in his gut was much more urgent than he thought.

Aziraphale dragged Crowley out into the cold, ignoring the surprised laugh and delayed trotting to catch up as they made way for the car. Panting, desperate and whipped, Aziraphale flung open the back door before Crowley could reach the passenger side.

He sunk into the backseat and gazed expectantly up at Crowley where he stood outside, mouth agape and eyes sparkling.

“What are you –?”

Aziraphale snatched him by the lapel and yanked him inside.

Even if the windows hadn’t been tinted to prevent outsiders from seeing in. Even if they hadn’t been witnessed by shocked patrons as they headed for their own cars. Even if the thought of Breann excitedly sharing the news that Aziraphale had a boyfriend wasn’t racing through his mind. Aziraphale would have still fisted Crowley’s loose locks and hauled him into a crushing kiss before the door closed them off to the world outside.

“Ngk,” Crowley toned, garbled and muffled by the urgency of Aziraphale’s mouth on his. One knee rested on the seat between Aziraphale’s thighs, one hand gripped the driver’s headrest hard enough to leave indents.

Aziraphale trapped him close, encouraged him with everything he had to fall into the luxurious seat, to mold their bodies together and the hell with everyone else.

“‘Ziraphale,” Crowley said as he finally gave in and sank down with all his weight.

Aziraphale gasped for breath but loved every crushed inch of it.

“What’s come over you, you impish fiend, you?”

Aziraphale groaned and collected two handfuls of perfect ass. “You,” he wheezed, squeezing tightly and grinding up against every part of Crowley that he could. “You and your — your everything!”

Crowley chuckled low and allowed his neck to be mauled. He shifted ever so slightly to slot their tingly bits more firmly together.

“You can have it, Angel,” he laughed, voice filled with sunshine. “You can have every part of me. And you have no idea how fucking turned on you’ve made me. Kissing me like this, in the back seat of my car, on consecrated ground and before the eyes of the lord.”

Aziraphale scoffed and nosed greedily at Crowley’s sternum. He, too, was well on the path of a flat-out scandal.

“I think,” Crowley began, arching his back slightly to allow Aziraphale access to that lovely low neckline. “I think that we should make out until every last car is gone. And then I think I should desecrate your body and take you hot, hard, and fast.”

It was a disgusting groan that escaped Aziraphale’s throat. He found Crowley’s nipple beneath his shirt with his tongue and said the only thing that made any sense at all.

“Amen to that.”

Read on AO3

#ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #human au

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moonslittlestar · 4 months

Text

Art by Taejy_

Outside the world around them stirred, heavy rain crashed against the stained glass window. Every so often the loud claps of thunder shook the room, and bolts of lightning lit it up brightly. It wasn't night yet, though the clouds shrouded the city in darkness, the streets oddly quiet for early evening; normally around this time they'd be bursting with life, young child selling Baldur's Mouth newsletters, calling out to the city folks that walked past them as if they were invisible, all making their respective ways home or to local bars.

This one was a hot spot for the working class to retreat after a long day's work, yet under the room on the second floor everything seemed rather silent, something Moon was not used to in his stay at Sharee’s Caress. The brothel was normally packed, full of songs and live music and so much chatter he found it difficult to hear his own thoughts the majority of the time. The peace the storm brought was a welcomed guest.

In his room a fireplace on the far wall warmed up the cold air around them, granted there wasn't much of a room to warm up, but it was something. The crackling logs under flame were just loud enough to come through the sound of rain tapping against glass, and the golden glow flickered faintly against the wooden bedframe, silk sheets and soft skin.

•°•°•°•

Moon had become quite fond of his little room at Sharee's Caress, although the patrons did leave something to be desired about the place (most of them overly horny drunks with no manners and bad tempers) but the staff were nice and after Moon paid off his debt for a few smashed glasses and a broken chair during the first week of his stay, they seemed quite fond of him too.

He'd not been planning to stay this long, but something about the white haired elf kept him around, or rather, something about him kept the white haired elf around, neither were sure who was keeping who around but neither had any complaints. Their personalities entwined like the finest elven chainmail; a bond that seemed completely unbreakable, almost as if they were destined to meet… if you believed in such things, which neither of them did. Mortals were off limits, but this one, this one…

Moon placed his lips gently upon Astarion's forehead and smiled to himself. This one was worth breaking the rules for.

When he started seeing Astarion more, Moon found himself wondering if this is how his mother fell for his father, if they broke the rules of man and God(dess) because feelings had become involved? Were they fated? They say that nothing good ever comes from bonding with mortals, but maybe it was different for him? He wasn't a true God anyways, so maybe it didn't count?

•°•°•°•

They lay over the covers, bodies entwined, on a king size bed on the opposite side of the fireplace. The bed was entirely too big for the room, but that had been Moon's magic at work, as the original bed was far too small for him.

Moon’s back rested up against the mound of cushions with Astarion pressed against him, his leg wrapped around Moon's, and Moon's tail wrapped around Astarion's leg. His left wing cocooned Astarion in a delicate embrace as Astarion nuzzled his head into the crook of Moon's neck.

The scent of arcane Jasmine permeated the air around them as Moon projected a canopy of stars above them with his free hand. A soft blue hue washed over them in pulses as Moon's magic left his fingertips, his horns glowed, following suit.

“It's beautiful!” Astarion smiled, watching in awe as the night sky danced over them. He raised a hand, his fingers joining the dancing of the stars that faded around his fingertips, though it was cold in there, a strange electric current prickled at the back of his hand and his fingers as they swayed back and forth, “I don't get to see the stars much here, not like this.” He mumbled, his focus drawn to the starry sky above him. “They look so real… like I could just reach out and touch one!” He continued, waving his hand around loosely in them some more before placing it back around Moon's waist. “I wish I could see the stars like this every night” he sighed lightly. A shooting star shot past, almost too quick to see it, another followed shortly after.

Moon hummed slightly, twisting his hand and turning the sky a little, “it is real… well, sort of I suppose?” His voice was smooth and calm.

“Sort of?” Astarion raised his head from Moon’s chest and cocked an eyebrow, “sort of, I suppose?” He asked in a silly mocking tone.

Moon nodded slightly and hummed again, “They were once, it's a memory projection. My first night down here...” His voice trailed off. “They look much different when you are amongst them, down here they look so… small.” He continued after a long pause.

Astarion rested his head back onto Moon's chest, a small huff escaped him as he contemplated how difficult it must have been for Moon to lose so much, to be thrown out, cast aside and have nothing, not even a name. “Luán,” a sense of sincerity attached to his words, “Thank you, for showing me this.”

Moon nodded in acknowledgement and placed another kiss softly upon Astarion's forehead.

This was the most intimate they had been since they began seeing each other more regularly.

•°•°•°•

Astarion had been told of Moon's descent, how he'd been disowned and denounced as son and heir; how he'd fallen from grace. But not through Moon, he'd heard the stories and the songs; “The son of a Goddess and a mortal blacksmith, a great warrior born to fight for honor whenever summoned. The son that fell to Faerun and had his name stripped from him. The Demigod that was unwelcome and unworthy of that title.” They did not speak much about Moon's past, for Moon didn't like to bring it up.

Astarion understood that Moon had gone through a lot and had roamed Faerun for an unfathomable amount of time, fighting in wars man had started. He may have been cast down, but he could be summoned at any time and he was tied to his duty by a golden string. So was the life of the son of a great Goddess, even if she didn't recognise him anymore. Astarion hadn't dared ask which stories were true and which were rumors, he didn't care much to find out either.

Mostly, they fucked; had their fun and parted ways. Emotional intimacy hadn't been a part of the equation. But this, this felt… nice?

After a few moments of silently watching the projection, Astarion kissed Moon's neck, just under his jaw. “I like this,” he smiled against Moon's skin, “I don't know what this is, but I like it.”

Moon's tail wrapped around Astarion's thigh tightly and the glow in his horns brightened as if to say “me too”.

#bg3 fanart #tales of: moon #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 oc #bg3 ocs #bg3 tav #tav bg3 #bg3 dark urge #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #moonslittlestar screenshots

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up-to-some-good · 8 months

Text

Noted

So I accidentally took January off....and it feels like I have run out of creativity....but we're back and we're going to do our best. Written for @wolfstarmicrofic 8 February - Arrow (~700 words)

8 February 1974

Waking up after the full moon was always difficult. It was worse at home, where Remus had less space to roam than was available in the Shack, but it still wasn't easy at Hogwarts. The bigger space didn't entirely stop the wolf from attacking himself, nor did it mean the transformation between forms was painless. Madame Pomfrey did her best sith his injuries, but he was always in pain the next day, and the lack of sleep didn't help.

He always missed a day of school after the moon, much to his chagrin. Remus always begged to go to class, no matter how sore or tired he was, but Madame Pomfrey was always firm in keeping him back for a day and forcing him to spend the next week catching up on work.

It was halfway through second year when the notes started appearing on his bed after the moon. When Remus came back to the dorm, he'd find a stack of parchment on his bed - neatly written notes of everything he'd missed when he was away. They were beautifully done: neatly printed words, coloured coded, and full of diagrams with little arrows dictating the wand movements of various spells.

He wasn't sure who was writing them. They were way too neat to be from James - whose handwriting was barely legible on a good day - and Peter hated using coloured ink even when instructed to do so. Sirius's handwriting was beautiful cursive, but he never took notes and Remus couldn't read cursive to start with. For a while, he suspected it was Lily, who was by far the most attentive student of his friends and had lovely handwriting. But the he was her pulling out a muggle pen in Transfiguration to make notes, and gave up his theory. The mysterious notes were unmistakably written with a quill, marred with a few small smudges and ink blots.

So Remus gave up on trying to find the mysterious note taker at the beginning of their third year, deciding to thank them when and if they ever revealed themself to him.

The second full moon of 1974 was thankfully a good one. Madame Pomfrey released him from the hospital wing as lessons ended for the day, comfortable that Remus would go back to the dorm to rest as he couldn't get to class. He limped to Gryffindor tower slowly, hoping to find the dorm empty and quiet.

It was certainly quiet when he got there, but not empty. The door was open, and he stepped in to find Sirius standing by his bed with a stack of papers. He pointed his wand at the notes and muttered a spell, before leaving them on Remus's pillow and turning to leave, spotting his friend at the door.

"Remus! You're back early. How are you feeling?" Sirius asked.

Remus ignored the question. "You've been making notes for me."

Sirius blushed and avoided eye contact.

"Well, I...," he stammered. "Yes, I have. I noticed you were always struggling to catch up after the moon, so I thought I'd help you out if I could. I hope they've been okay?"

"They're brilliant!" Remus exclaimed. "They're always so detailed and easy to follow. I've been desperate to find out who it was so I could thank them. Where the hell did you learn to write notes like that?"

If possible, Sirius's face grew redder.

"I, well, I don't really know," he said. "I just tried to write down what was happening in my brain and that's what came out. I had to find a spell to change it from cursive to print, though. I knew they'd be useless if I didn't."

Remus grinned and moved to pull Sirius into a hug.

"Thank you so much," he whispered into his friend's shoulder. "You didn't have to go out of your way for me. I know you hate making notes, but I really appreciate it."

Sirius squeezed him back before pulling away to finally make eye contact.

"I told you last year, Remus," he said quietly. "If there's anything I can do to make the moons easier, I'll do it. Anything."

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar fic #wolfstar microfic #arrow #pre relationship #baby wolfstar #going for a smart sirius agenda this year #full moon fluff #also accurate full moon because i'm pedantic #so pedantic that I changed the year it was set so it could be on this date with a correct full moon

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karahofthedawn · 1 year

Note

Like many others, so happy to have found you and your writing. I just finished binging all your writings on the twins. I love that Fred got the “I love you” but could we have a story for George receiving the sentiment? He is, of course, the more sensitive twin. We all seem to love fluff and smut together. Maybe he took us on a romantic date when he gets one in one time. Thanks for your time and talent! 🧡

I ended up making this so sweet that I couldn't add the smut LOL..

This is all fluff. 💜

Words: 2.4k

"Blimey," George mumbles, particles of the muffin he had just bitten spray out onto the table. "And you just said it like that?"

Fred scrunches his face with annoyance at his brother's lack of table manners. Though that feeling could only last so long under the current circumstances. "Just like that."

George shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you of all people actually said that you lo-" he coughs as Fred's elbow connects to his ribs. "What's that all about?'" He scowls and wipes the crumbs from his lips.

Fred huffs with his arms tight against his chest.

He gets the hint - nobody else is to overhear.

George rolls his eyes. Just when he thought his brother was finally getting in touch with his softer side, he is sorely reminded how he'd rather die than admit it to anyone else. Always gotta keep up that snarky front, he guesses. Although since he's met y/n things have changed. For both of them.

The rest of the Gryffindor table is chattering away amongst themselves. Early Monday mornings always brought a surge of excitement for classes to start. That is, if you liked the ones you're signed up for. For the Weasley twins, it had been a long time since they felt that Hogwarts brought them anything worth caring about.

That is, until you were placed right on their lap.

Just as that thought crosses George's mind, you stride into the room with a few books tucked under your arms. He watches you with a tightness in his chest as you practically float to the Hufflepuff table.

Fred leans forward and whispers, "do you feel that way about her?"

George half shrugs, he holds a fresh ruby red apple loosely in his hand. You glance over your shoulder and immediately make eye contact with the two boys. A smile curls on the edge of your lips and you give a little wave before sitting down.

They both beam and give a nod in unison back at you.

"That's something for me to know," George laughs and gets to his feet. He leans over his brother's shoulder and says quietly, "and something for her to find out." With a wink and bite of the apple he heads off to plan his best idea yet.

—---------------Two Days Later------------------------

The cool breeze rustles the treeline in front of you. A bright full moon illuminates the field and the trail that you're following. The wide leaves on branches shadow over the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. You swear that you can hear a trail of footsteps crunching. Someone- something must be lurking just beyond your vision. Even with George's comforting arm around your shoulders, the unknown beyond makes your heels finally dig into the dirt.

"You can't be serious. In there?" You gesture to the looming forest with an outstretched arm.

"Oh, don't worry. Nothing will happen to us," George says calmly.

You rub your arm and frown. As much as you trust him, some things can happen that are completely out of anyone's control.

"Really," he urges you forward gently by sliding his hand to your waist. "Don't start being a scaredy cat now."

You glare at him from the corner of your eyes and huff. "I just don't see why this surprise needs to be somewhere so.. creepy."

George sighs and takes your hand in his. It's a comforting gesture, although the idea of walking in those woods still didn't feel any more safer than it had.

He gives his biggest and cheesiest smile and confidently says, "I promise, it'll be worth it."

You take a deep breath and give in, stepping forward towards the forest edge. The wind blows harder and the branches creak and whine as you cautiously step over the threshold. George has been tight lipped about this entire thing since he invited you out earlier today. Even with all of your might, you haven’t been able to get one single clue out of him. At this rate, you wonder if it’s even a good kind of surprise. Just because you’re dating, doesn’t mean you’re not a target of the twins’ pranks after all. You found that out the hard way.

“Are you alright?” George asks. You turn your head and only see his silhouette staring back at you.

“I don’t know. How do you even see where we’re going?” You ask as you blindly walk ahead. “And why can’t I use my wand?”

“Because,” he sighs. “You’ll just have to trust me. It’s only a bit further, try and relax. I know this path like the back of my hand.”

You tighten your arm around his as the safety of the exit to the forest grows further and further behind. There are stories told about these parts of giant spiders and angry centaurs. Who’s to say you won’t both go missing? Or you won’t get eaten or seriously harmed?

Your mind is still reeling when you feel George come to a complete stop. It’s silent, but you can hear his soft breathing to the right of you. He shuffles a bit and you reluctantly let go of his arm as he pulls away.

“George?” You call him nervously.

“Y/N, it’s okay. I promise.” His voice is still close, and that partially comforts you.

“What is this? I can’t see anything.” Your heart is racing and you consider just booking it back the way you came. It was a straight shot, but the risk of getting lost just isn’t worth it.

George takes one of your shaking hands in his and steps close to you. With the flick of his wand he says, “lumos!”

A bright and dazzling light appears from the end of his wand. The only thing that can be seen within the dark is both of your faces; yours being confused and worried, while he remains stoic and self assured. You are about to ask what the point of this was, when one by one small tiny lights begin flickering in the trees.

You turn and see that they’re all around you. Dozens.. Hundreds.. No, thousands of tiny lights floating motionless. George lifts his wand, and even more appear. Soon there are so many the area is properly illuminated. This was a clearing in the middle of the forest, where tall wild grass and flowers of all colors grew. One of the small orbs float towards you, landing on your sleeve. You bring it up to your face and realize that it’s a bug of some sort. Its body was tiny but it illuminated the brightest light from its core.

“Aren’t they neat?” George asks, letting the curious bug crawl on his pointer finger. It glowed again before extending its wings and gliding off silently.

You are in awe as you take in your surroundings. “What are they?”

“Well, some call them fireflies, others lightning bugs. But these are specifically bred by wizards, we call them Beacon Light Beetles.” He smiles down at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “They have a little bit of magic in them, and if you know how to use them you just..” He flicks his wand again and they begin spinning around the perimeter, moving as one.

You’re speechless as you watch this unfold. It was as if thousands of Christmas lights became sentient, or a flock of birds that were flying south. Always in sync. Always one with another.

“It’s beautiful,” you exclaim. You turn to him and grab his hand tightly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

George smiles warmly down at you, the small lights of orbs reflecting in his irises. “We are just getting started,” he says.

Your brows raise, and so does his wand again. A shadow floats out of the forest and sets itself down against a tree. A few of the Beacons swarm the new guest, revealing it to be a rather old looking cello. The bow appears from behind it, the hair expertly lands on the strings and glides forward. A very high note expels from the instrument, sending the small orbs moving frantically.

George laughs out and grabs you by the waist. “Get ready!” He yells out as the bow strikes again.

Before you can even question it, the dated cello begins to play a beautiful melody ‘Ave Maria’. He pulls you close to his chest and stares down at you with a look you just couldn’t read. With his hand on your waist and his other lacing with yours, he begins to dance with you. It starts off slow, with both of you locking eyes and swaying along to the music.

The Beacon Light Beetles must have gotten the memo too as they float up and down, side to side in a circular motion around you and George. You smile brightly as he hums along to the song.

“You know,” he says finally, pulling your waist close to his. “I didn’t know you could dance this well.”

You throw your head back and laugh. “I didn’t know you could either!”

He guides you into a slow spin, catching you as your body faces him again. “Well, I had lots of practice these last few days.” His warm hand against your back pulls you in again.

“All for this?” You ask and he nods. “But why?”

Just as he’s going to reply, the song picks up - as do the light beetles, swarming rapidly and forming different shapes and patterns as they go. It’s as if they are part of the music themselves. He whisks you off your feet and he spins you while close to his torso, then dips you down. Your gaze is locked with his as your heart fills to the brim with happiness and joy. This was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you by far. You’re beyond mesmerized as he continues to dance with you, the cello dwindles its pace as it gets to the end of the song.

“Y/N,” George says sweetly, practically cooing as he says your name.

Your eyes search his face for what’s going to happen next. “Yes?”

His fingers gently caress your face as he beams down at you. “From the moment I met you, I knew that we’d end up together.”

Your cheeks start to burn pink and your heart pounds. “Y-you did?”

He nods and then dips you down low again. When he brings you back up his hands tangle in your hair. He quietly replies with, “I did.”

Your heart beats against your chest and you stare up at him, all words you have in your head catch right in your throat.

George weaves his fingers into your hair and his forehead meets yours. “Y/N, I am very much in love with you.” His hands travel to the back of your neck, leaving a chill down your spine. He moves his head back and tilts his head. “And I just really needed you to know that.”

You nod, completely dumbfounded by this moment all together. After a moment of silence, you finally get the courage to respond with, “George, I love you too.”

He beams brighter than ever and wraps his arms around your torso. His cheek is resting on your hair as he continues to sway with you. A part of him had been made whole when you reciprocated in such a way that he could never fully explain. He leaves a soft kiss on your forehead then releases you with one of his arms so he can retrieve his wand.

The bright orbs rise as George points his wand to the sky, and they begin forming into two different masses. He focuses all of his energy, molding the bugs in the darkness. It doesn’t take for his masterpiece to shine through. It was as if he painted a picture of you and him in the sky. The two figures embrace, kiss - then the beetles scatter off immediately.

“How did you-” You look at him with tears welling in your eyes.

George shrugs, like he’s done this a hundred times. Which was his main goal over the last few days as well, so he technically had. You didn’t need to know that though, he thought to himself.

“Love can make anything happen,” George says. And a lot of practice and reading, he notes to himself.

You take his warm freckled face in your palms and lead him down into a gentle kiss. He hums as your lips meet and he bends down to feel you deeper. You remain locked into that kiss for what feels like eternity. Tears fall down your face from the overwhelming knowledge of just how much this man loves you.

He finally breaks the kiss and says, “thank Merlin you love me back, otherwise this would have been very awkward.”

You laugh and nuzzle your face in the crook of George’s neck. “Or if I was afraid of bugs.”

He slaps his forehead and practically yells, “I didn’t even consider that!”

“Well, thankfully I’m not.” You giggle as his arms snake around your shoulders.

He laughs with you. “I can see it now, you’d be a screaming mess as I’d be trying to dance with you.”

“And I’d run off and get lost in the woods.”

George continues, “then I’d go after you and get lost as well.”

Then in unison you both say, “Fred would make fun of us so badly.”

You both start laughing hysterically in unison. He pulls back and moves a strand of hair from your face. “Then I’d have to plan something else that’s ridiculously romantic.”

You beam up at him and give him a small kiss on the cheek. “Well, at least it all went according to plan.”

George playfully wipes his forehead and says, “thank Merlin for that!”

A few of the Beacon Light Beetles could be seen floating away in the trees. He takes your hand as you both watch the final few depart. You rest your head on his shoulder and shiver as the wind picks back up.

He nudges you and says, “Come on, let’s go back to the castle.”

You nod and clasp his hand tightly. Just like that, you were leaving one of the best moments of your life. After you reach the exit of the forest, you look back one last time. A small orb of light can be seen in the distance. This is something you will never forget.

“Watch your step now,” George instructs and helps you over a fallen branch.

With that, you head back to the castle with your head in the clouds. Life truly could not get better than this.

#fred and george weasley #george weasley #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred and george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george wealsey x reader

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ttuesday · 2 years

Text

The Feller’s Love Languages <3

Arthur -> Acts of Service

Arthur’s love language is definitely acts of service, it’s something he’s done his whole life to show others he cares for them. He knows how time-consuming chores can be, so by doing them for you, Arthur hopes it’ll show you just how much you mean to him.

If you ever need anything in town then Arthur will go and get it for you, even if it’s first thing in the morning. Sure, he might complain sometimes but no matter what, Arthur always gets it done for you.

Even if there’s any jobs you don’t feel up to, Arthur will gladly take your place if it means you having some time to relax. Hell, you could ask him for the moon and I’m sure Arthur will do everything in his power to get it for you.

The best way to show your appreciation is by doing little tasks that Arthur might not have the time for. We all know how busy he is fixing everyone else’s problems so sometimes he doesn't have the time to brush his horse thoroughly, declutter his satchel or donate some money to the gang fund. Honestly, if you do any one of these things, Arthur will feel like the luckiest man alive.

Charles -> Quality Time

Charles is a person who really wants to get to know someone before getting into a relationship with them so even when y’all were just friends, quality time together has always been essential.

Charles loves being around you, he even waits to do his chores while you’re busy with your chores too. That way, doing the chores is more fun and it’s kinda like an in-camp date, both of you so captivated by each other that doing the dishes doesn’t seem that boring anymore.

Of course Charles likes more intimate quality time too, whether that be hunting together or having a picnic and watching the sunset. Yet no matter where y’all are or who else is there, as long as you’re by his side then Charles is happy.

The best way to show Charles you love him too is by asking him to teach you how to make arrows, bait and traps. That way he gets to teach you a useful skill and spend more time with you, full of innocent touches as he softly instructs you on how to set the trap.

Dutch -> Receiving Gifts

Although Dutch loves going on about Evelyn Miller and the ruthlessness of the upper class, he can be quite materialistic. He loves getting presents because he can judge someone’s character by which present they give him; if it’s something he likes, then they must pay close attention to him which makes him feel even more loved.

But when it’s Dutch who’s buying the gifts, expect many bouquets of flowers. He likes getting the pre-made bouquets just because they’re a bit pricey and he loves spending money on you.

Whenever he leaves early in the morning for a con or robbery, he leaves small, more personalised gifts nearby for you to find, just in case the job doesn’t go according to plan.

Even if you don’t give him any physical gifts, just by making a big deal out of anniversaries or any gang events gives Dutch that same feeling of love.

Micah -> Physical Touch

Micah is so goddamn touch starved. Do y’all really think this guy has ever gotten a hug? (without paying for it). While it takes him a while to accept some genuine physical affection, it’s something he quickly clings to and holds on to dearly.

As much as he refuses to admit it, he’s a sucker for some skin on skin contact, even if you brush past his arm or let your hand linger on his for a few moments, he’ll think about it for the rest of the day.

When you’re in a relationship with Micah, he’s not afraid to get a lil touchy feely just to make sure everyone within a 25 metre radius knows y’all are an item. Basically, he’s always manhandling you, with one hand on the small of your back or wrapped snuggly around your waist.

While Micah is quite handsy, he doesn’t exactly make out with you in public (if people wanna see that, they’ll have to pay) so the best way to show him you care while simultaneously riling him up is by giving him a quick yet lingering kiss randomly throughout the day before continuing on your way again.

John -> Acts of Service

Similar to Arthur, John is kinda an errand boy (though he does complain a lot more). Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t necessarily enjoy doing things for others but he sees it as showing you how dedicated he is.

Like I said, you will hear a fair few complaints but John eventually gets the job done, whether that be making you coffee in the morning or doing some laundry for you.

If John ever hears you complaining about a recon job you have to go on or some boring task given to you by Dutch, he’ll offer to go instead or to tag along with you, hoping to make it somewhat fun.

Honestly, most of the time John ends up doing your chores at camp and completely neglect his own, so to return the love, the best thing to do is his chores for him before Miss Grimshaw starts berating him.

Javier -> Words of Affirmation

Javier is a big believer in communication being key in any relationship and so he’s always quick to praise you and encourage you in all aspects of life.

He’s basically your hype man, there to remind you how attractive you look, how talented you are and how you constantly make his day better simply by being there. And if he thinks you’re feeling a little down, Javier really amps it up and will spend the day whispering sweet nothings to you.

Seriously, Javier will take almost any opportunity to remind you just how grateful he is to have you in his life. Even when tensions get high at camp, Javier normally pulls you aside to gush about how lucky he feels to have you as his partner.

The best way to return the love is by telling Javier whenever he impresses you; whether it be on a job or playing the guitar, whenever he gets a compliment from you, he’s on cloud 9 for the rest of the day.

Bill -> Receiving Gifts

In fairness, Bill likes to love in a number of different ways. He loves spending quality time with you, touch you in places only he’s allowed to, listen bashfully as you praise him but if you really want to make Bill’s heart flutter, get him a gift.

Bill knows how important cash is both in the gang and in general so if you spend some on him, he feels sincerely honoured. Hell, you could simply pick him a wildflower from the outskirts of camp and Bill will act as if you’ve just brought him a gold bar.

Even when Bill doesn’t have the money to spoil you, he always brings you back little trinkets he finds while on random jobs or bring you a bottle of beer so you can both drink together and unwind after a long day.

If you buy him something snazzy for one of your anniversaries, Bill falls in love with you all over again. Even when money’s tight, leaving him a love note in his jacket pocket or some photos of the two of you together will almost bring a tear of happiness to his eye.

Sean -> Physical Touch

Sean absolutely loves touching you, whether that be playing with your hair, holding your hand, giving you a hug from behind and the list goes on and on!

He likes how reassuring your hand in his feels or how relaxed he becomes when you lean into him. You’re not doing much, but just to know you’re there is very soothing for Sean.

My god this man will use any excuse to give you a massage. It’s possibly his favourite excuse reason to touch you, slowly running his hands along your skin before he begins applying pressure to wherever it is you say.

To be blunt, literally any form of physical touch with you is enough to make him feel special but if you really want to spoil Sean (or if you want him to stop talking for a while) then run your fingers through his hair and watch him quickly turn to putty.

Hosea -> Quality Time

Hosea adores having some time alone with you, finally being able to unwind and give you all of his attention. Having a break away from camp and some quality time with you honestly keeps Hosea sane.

Date nights are absolutely imperative, no matter what’s going on, Hosea always plans a date night each week. It’s something he looks forward to and Hosea adores planning out each date night, wanting to keep the details as a surprise for you.

He’s always very hesitant to cancel a date night but if the law is snooping around and it’s too dangerous to go out, he can settle for spending the night planning cons on the outskirts of camp instead.

Hosea is quite the bookworm so something he loves doing with you is stealing buying 2 copies of a book and discussing each chapter together. It’s like your own private book club and it’s only one of the many things you do that makes Hosea’s heart warm.

Trelawny -> Words of Affirmation

Trelawny likes to talk and he likes to be open about his feelings, never hesitating to give someone a genuine compliment or try to uplift them with his words.

Honestly, when isn’t Trelawny gushing about you? Josiah can’t help but sing your praises whenever you’re near, telling everyone how amazing you did on a recent con and raving about how ravishing you look.

Sometimes he fears he may embarrass you with his constant praise but once you give him that cute smile of yours or a quick kiss on the cheek, he sees that as your permission for him to keep boosting about you.

Trelawny practically remembers every compliment you’ve given him. He holds your opinion very highly so whenever you praise him or simply tell him you love him, he can’t help but turn a light shade of red and wonder what on earth has he done to deserve someone as magnificent as you.

Kieran -> Physical Touch

Once Kieran feels comfortable with his partner, he absolutely loves physical affection. Touching you and knowing your close makes him feel so safe and relaxed.

Whenever Kieran’s going through a stressful time or fretting over the O’Driscoll’s, cuddling with you makes him feel like everything will be ok. He’s pretty sure you have some mystic calming ability cause no matter what the circumstances are, the instant you touch him, Kieran feels 10 times better already.

Kieran loves giving you small touches throughout the day. He knows if he does anymore then the gang will tease him so for the most part, he sticks to some playful nudges, squeezing your hand, rubbing your shoulders or giving you a quick peck on the lips if he’s really feeling daring.

Kieran loves it whenever you initiate physical affection, especially when you boldly kiss him in front of the others or sit on his lap. Although it always makes him flustered and stumble over his words, he gets a massive boost of confidence every time you do this.

Lenny -> Quality Time

Dating Lenny means you’re basically joined at his hip, always together whether it be in a job or just relaxing at camp. He adores spending time with you, although he usually gets distracted flirting with you and never gets any work done.

Whenever Lenny’s supposed to go on guard duty, he brings you out with him to keep him company. That way, going on guard duty is actually fun and y’all can get some alone time.

Even though you both spend a lot of time together, neither of you are ever bored. Lenny is an expert at making up silly games for you both to play throughout the day. For example, his latest game is putting his hat on your head and vice versa, with whoever’s wearing the hat by the end of the day being the one who has to buy the drinks the next time y’all are out.

Lenny’s dream would be a weekend away from camp, just the two of you at some old cabin, cooking dinner together and acting like a couple that aren’t wanted by bounty hunters. Even if living a relatively normal life is very unlikely, Lenny always likes to daydream about your future together.

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spaceagebachelormann · 2 years

Note

I love ur account omg <3

If you’re up for writing it, could I get a Father figure! Professor!Remus Lupin x student!gn!reader

Reader is struggling with being a lycanthrope and making friends they can trust, so Remus is there to comfort them.

LAUGHTER - REMUS LUPIN

ੈ✩‧₊˚ FANDOM: harry potter

ੈ✩‧₊˚ FORMAT: long/short fic

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: angst, werewolf reader, mentions of no sleep, scars, bullying, slight hermione and ron x reader if you squint, poor reader, random non-canon character named oscar, swearing, father figure remus, mentions of a raw wrist, scratching, reader goes into a mindless state

ੈ✩‧₊˚ SUMMARY: remus comforts his favourite student

masterlist || harry potter masterlist || navigation

You did not want to go to class today.

With the full moon last night and nothing to stop you from turning into a werewolf, you had gotten no sleep whatsoever.

It didn’t help that you had the worst roommates to ever walk the planet.

“Wake up!” One of them, who will remain nameless, yelled at you, hitting you repeatedly with their pillow.

Another laughed. “You don’t have to be so lazy.”

The third, who also shall be nameless, pulled your blankets off of you, leaving you in the cold. Oh, and also showing off your brand new scars.

“Ew!” One exclaimed, stumbling away from you. “That’s disgusting!”

“How does something like that even happen?” Another queried.

“It’s sickening.”

With a long sigh, you stood up and glared at them.

“For once, can you just leave me alone?” You begged, brushing strands of hair out of your face. “It’s 7AM, don’t you have any better to do then torment me?”

“Honestly?” The tallest one said, “Yes. Are we going to leave you alone?”

“No!” They all screamed together.

Laughter.

“For once, can you try to look decent?” One of them mocked you, earning laughter from everyone in the room.

You sighed, and grabbed your clothes.

“Where are you going? Back to your garbage can of a house?”

Laughter.

You shoved your fingers in your ears as you ran down the stairs, trying your very best not to fall flat on your face.

You were, in a word, disappointed when you saw your classmates in the common room, all staring at you.

“Y/N?” A boy, Oscar, asked, “Is everything alright?”

You glanced up at him, slowly pulling your fingers away from your head.

Oscar was a bit taller than you, somewhere around 5 inches taller. His brown eyes stared into yours, concern written all over his face.

“Yeah,” you lied, “everything’s fine.”

Oscar was nice. But he wasn’t very good at keeping secrets, not his fault though! He was constantly being forced to drink Veritaserum. You couldn’t trust him, even though you wanted too.

“Are you sure?” His eyes flicked to your clothes. “You’re still in your pyjamas. Are they pissing you off again? If I have to-”

”It’s fine, don’t worry! I just find the bathroom a better place to change.”

The worried look on Oscars face was still there.

You began to hear your roommates laughter, combined with them coming down the stairs after you.

“Y/N, do-” He began, before you quickly cut him off.

“I have to go! I’m sorry, i’ll see you later.” Your voice was trembling, and the sentence came out more forced than you had thought it would.

All you saw was a flash of his confused face before you ran into the hall.

As you were walking, you had your head down, so you couldn’t really see if someone was coming towards you or not.

To your dismay, you bumped into someone. Not only someone, but your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin.

“Mx. L/N?” He asked. Confusion was laced in his voice, but he had a smile anyway. “I never thought I would see you walking around this early. What’s the occasion?”

You awkwardly smiled back at him, “Just uh… just heading to the bathroom!”

You tapped your shoes together, praying he didn’t ask any more questions.

But, he did.

“Heading to the bathroom with your uniform?”

You looked up, finally, and met his eye. He looked a little concerned, analyzing your face and expression for any sign that something was wrong.

“Yes, because, uh-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Y/N.” He reassured, raising his hand like he was going to place it on your shoulder, then deciding not to and resting it in his pocket instead. “However, if someone is bothering you, or if anything is wrong, whether it be mental health or family issues or even trouble with your classes, you can come to me. Understood?”

You nodded, and he stepped out of your way.

You didn’t realize it with your eyes facing the ground, but his gaze followed you as you toddled down the hallway, a worried crease between his brows.

He made a mental note to check up on you atleast once a week.

You had Professor Lupins class with the Gryffindors for your last period of the day.

You would never admit this to anyone, especially him, but he was honestly the closest thing you had to a dad. He was nice to you, caring, made sure you weren’t struggling in his class, and he did seem to keep a close eye on you.

For whatever reason, you had chosen not to walk with your classmates, and decided to walk a different route to your class.

But, you weren’t the only person walking this way.

“Professor!” You exclaimed, panic filling you as your teacher began walking on the same route.

Professor Lupin only smiled. “Good afternoon, Mx. L/N. Taking a different route, are we? Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

The walk was mainly silent, Lupin occasionally asking you something or making small talk.

For example, he had started a lovely conversation with you about 1 minute into your walk.

“You have eyebags.” He noted, “Rough night, I'm assuming?”

Your cheeks flushed at his observation.

“Yeah, a bit.”

Without thinking, you pulled up your sleeve and began scratching your red-raw wrist.

Lupin, of course, noticed this.

He felt insanely worried when he saw how red your wrist was, and how close it looked to bleeding. But, something else caught his attention.

On your hands and up to your elbow, you had scars. Not just normal scars from some class, the same scars he had. This created a new level of concern for him.

“Y/N.” He spoke, turning towards you as you reached your destination.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Go around the other way. You can sneak in unnoticed if we enter at the same time. You never seem to like being the centre of attention.”

You have a shaky breath. “Thank you so much.”

You turned on your heel, but he caught your attention once more.

“One more thing. See me after class, will you?”

He didn’t let you respond or argue with him. Instead, he entered the room. You did as he suggested and went through the other door. And, just like he said, nobody batted an eye towards you.

You took your spot beside a boy with flaming red hair and a long nose.

When you caught his eye, he gave you a small smile, which also earned the attention of the girl beside him, who’s hair was very poofy.

You recognized them as friends of Harry Potter, and as people who helped save the school a couple of times. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

When you smiled back at them softly, their cheeks became slightly pink.

You all turned your attention back to the lesson.

“A few months ago,” Professor Lupin began, “we worked on Boggarts. The end of that lesson did not go as planned.”

He glanced at Harry.

“So,” He smiled and clapped his hands. “we’re going to try again. Line up!”

Everyone immediately obliged.

You were listening to the shouts of kids’ “Ridikkulous!”, but it all faded away as Ron Weasley turned around and looked you dead in the eyes.

It took everything in you not to jump.

“Do you know what time it is?” He asked, looking you up and down unsubtly.

You looked at your pocket watch.

“It’s… 3:30.” You replied, glancing up at him.

He smiled at you, and held out his hand. “Thanks. Ron Weasley.”

You were, in a word, surprised by this.

“Y/N L/N!” You said, happily shaking his hand. Also mentally yelling at yourself for the way it came out.

Rons smile turned into a grin, and he turned back around.

Soon, it was your turn to face your boggart.

As the thing began shifting its shape, that same worried crease appeared between Lupins eyes. He was about to stop you from facing it, but it was too late now.

Your face was filled with terror as your boggart turned into a full moon, immediately proving his theory.

“Look! They’re afraid of the moon!” Someone shouted, causing everyone in the room to laugh.

Laughter.

Laughter?

Why are they laughing? You thought, raising your wand as tears fought to be free.

Laughter!

It was overwhelming. The only laughter you ever heard was when they were laughing at you.

Why would they laugh at something like this? You mentally queried. Why is it affecting me so harshly right now?

“Y/N! Say ‘Riddikulous!’” You heard somebody yell from far away.

You weren’t sure what it was, but your brian couldn’t focus. You felt mindless as you stared at the crater covered ball in front of you, wand still raised.

The laughter stopped.

The laughter stopped?

The laughter stopped!

You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, and came back to reality at the sound of Professor Lupin shouting “Ridikkulous!”

It was a good thing it was the end of class, because everyone was walking out once the bell rang.

“Y/N,” Lupin said softly, sitting down and patting the chair next to him.

You gulped and sat down beside him.

He rolled up your sleeve with such care and gentleness it surprised you.

“I know your a Lycanthorpe.” He admitted, gesturing to your scars.

When you looked scared and panicked, he began to reassure you.

“Don’t worry! I’m not going to tell anybody. The information doesn’t leave this room. However, I need to ask you something, and don’t lie, be honest, it’ll make this easier. What’s going on? I know somethings wrong, and you can tell me.” He softly said, taking your hand in his.

You felt as if you could trust him.

You decided to tell him everything.

“Everything’s wrong! I can’t make a friend I can trust. Everyone only laughs at me, the only time i hear laughter is when my classmates or the people who are supposed to be my friends are laughing at me! My family is poor ever since my father left, and I won’t be able to afford the books and stuff for next year which means I can’t come back. If I can’t come back I’m not sure I can survive. This place is the only building where I can get free food and eat and drink as much as I want. Even though I’m not close with them, I have friends here! And, being a Lycanthorpe, whenever there’s a full moon, I don’t get any sleep at all! I can’t leave here, I can’t!”

You spilled your heart out to him.

The tears finally dropped, no matter how badly you tried to hold them back.

Lupin seemed a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected it to be as bad as that.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. He was speechless.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, getting up and running to the door, “i’ve said too much. I’ll leave.”

“Y/N,” he called, “you can’t just leave after telling all that to me.”

You knew there was no point in arguing, he had a point.

With a sigh, you turned around and sat back in the seat.

He smiled at you softly, which gave you a little comfort.

“I’m glad you trust me with this. I know how difficult it can be to find the courage to speak about these things. I’m not sure if there’s much I can do to help you with your family, but I’m sure I can help with the making friends part. I saw you talking to Mr. Weasley, he’s someone I think is trustworthy, so try to get closer with him. Or maybe Neville Longbottom, I think you and him would get along wonderfully.” He said, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

“And,” he began, “I want you to know that you can always talk to me about anything at all. Just say the word, and we can have a talk. Now, tell me, who were the ones giving you a hard time?”

“Pretty much everyone. I can’t place any specific names.” You muttered.

“Do you have your notes from yesterday?” He asked, grinning as he got a great idea.

“Yes?” You said confusedly.

“Look over them, and maybe try to memorize them. I wouldn’t want you to fail the pop quiz tomorrow.”

You began to grin with him as you realized his plan was to have everyone else fail the quiz and have you be the only one passing.

“That’s genius!” You complimented, even laughing a bit.

“In all seriousness, I’ll see what can be done about them. Thank you for telling me this. Now, i’m sure you want to have your free time, yes?”

You nodded, and he smiled.

“Run along, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mx. L/N.”

“Thank you!” You shouted to him on your way out, happily trotting down the hallway.

and i’m gonna leave it there because i don’t know how to end this

#mars writing 🧈#harry potter #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #hp #hp x reader

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ava-core · 5 months

Text

so finals is whooping my ass and i can’t play new vegas because it’s either play or rest my poor posture in bed and i can’t really take the back pain any more than i have to when i’m productive </3 i miss my courier six may a lot so

some informational tidbits about her under the cut! (her whole profile/backstory post is still separate i will make it when i have time ong)

she’s actually an alcoholic. the type where her tolerance is so high, in her story, her vault 13 canteen is actually full of scotch and not water. she brings a separate canister for water, but even then, it’s more likely the vault 13 canteen is full as opposed to her water bottle. she’s fond of scotch, and if she had more leeway, she’d be shaking csravaners and bartenders down for her native baijiu.

her birthday is June 6, 2253. Her birth time? 7:06 PM. (a gemini sun, libra moon, and sagittarius rising…yeah, and a cancer venus, too. as someone with a lot of earth signs myself, i genuinely think she’s fated to be doomed with melancholia LMFAO)

she will raze the wasteland for some banana yucca fruit. to may, it’s the universe’s gift for the little good that’s left in the world; it also reminded her of her mother’s pastries back home, which she’d sometimes use bananas for.

when no one’s watching (or so she thinks—boone has caught her a dozen times), while out in the wasteland, when innocents die, she picks broc flowers and leaves them by their corpses. when she can move their bodies, she does, laying them to rest behind a stone so at least they could get some respect in death.

on that note, it’s one of the reasons why the legion gradually infuriated her. in Shi culture, death rites are held in high regard, and that stuck with her. so to find corpses of murdered civillians disrespectfully laden with bombs and traps, used to bring about the death of another? it brought such a sour taste to her mouth even her aura, the air about her: it darkens, becomes heavier.

she has holotapes of Shi music she’d been meaning to make a player for, but just couldn’t find the time. her getting shot was a blessing in disguise: when doc mitchell gave her the pip-boy, it made her happier somewhat that it could read all the songs she’d been collecting for the past few years. so instead of Johnny Guitar, you’re more likely to hear Lily Chao’s Shepherdress, or even Slim Whitman’s China Doll.

in early game, may only uses one gun: the assault rifle she used to escape the Shi prison, which she added with a silencer and kept in good condition as it was the only weapon that kept her alive all these years. it was also the only one she could afford. however, as she builds her skill in guns, she starts to explore.

may is most proficient in melee and unarmed. back in the Empire of Shi, they teach the military a lot of martial arts techniques, and alongside her brother who taught her she watched military training and followed along—much to her father’s chagrin, especially during the times when she’d sneak out of class or a meeting with the Shi high society matchmaker to learn the latest move.

in this vein, it’s actually a reprieve that may guns you down. because while she’s got a small frame, she’s agile…and her hands and feet kick where it hurt. have you ever been on the receiving end of punches so strong and fast you don’t even see it coming until you black out, barely registering the surprise? a thug in freeside would tell you all about it, but he’d have to be alive to do so. unfortunately for him, may kicked a little too hard. oops.

there’s also a small moment after she returns from Big MT where boone asks her to teach him some of her moves. of course it’s a tension filled moment. of course may beats boone’s bigger frame. of course it turns boone on to be kicked in the face and pinned to the ground by this gorgeous woman.

ALSO: how boone and may met! of course, it was inside Dinky the Dinosaur’s mouth; hard-pressed for caps, may didn’t want to go into the lobby and lob over her precious caps, few and far between, for lodging. she doesn’t see boone’s gun, so she gets the smart idea to squat up that dinosaur’s mouth, just sleep for three hours before hunting down her platinum chip.

imagine boone’s surprise when a masked girl sneaks up on him silently. when he raises his rifle, it freaks may out, and her instinct in close quarters is to go into Butterfly Angel on this man’s face before he can pull the trigger. it ends with may overpowering boone, her face over his as he looks up at her.

“you legion?”

a pause. at this point, may only knew of them from nipton and rumors from the other people in the mojave. “the costumed freaks from the east? no.”

“then what are you doing here? who the hell are you?”

“wanted a place to sleep. cheap. didn’t think someone would be here,” she says, letting him go as the two stand up while the sun rises. and the rest is history.

may would never say it aloud, but she’d always wanted a family of her own. if survival was an assurance, not a slim possibility in the wasteland, she’d have more incentive to settle down—but alas, she doesn’t want her children to suffer the same fate.

surprisingly, she gets along well with veronica. may and boone stop at the 188 enough for veronica to chat may up, and eventually she lets her join them (to boone’s chagrin, but he eventually grew to like veronica’s chatter—because it often gave him a chance to hear may’s voice. later on, maybe even a dry laugh, when veronica says a stupid joke.)

may lives in an eternal conundrum in terms of her appearance: people can’t tell if 23 is too young for her expression and personality to be as grumpy and unsociable as it is, or if it’s surprisingly older because of her youthful face. she could pass for 19–hell, she could pass for a model.

it’s why she goes out masked in the wasteland. she knew being ‘pretty’ (she hated the word, like it was all she was supposed to be the way people gushed at her over it) was a reason to be targeted more often, so she always concealed her face.

boone doesn’t even see her face until she meets mr. house and he’s invited to the presidential suite, where jane the securitron gives may a change of clothes. after a shower and slipping into the black gown, it almost gives boone a heart attack: this is what this woman looked like? holy shit. what the hell?

after getting the platinum chip from benny, she also sneaks out of the strip using the NCR monorail because she had a bad feeling about Mr. House. it’s why she’s in businesswear and shades: not the best disguise, but at least it wasn’t her merc clothes.

OKAY that’s a lot of rambling >< i just love may a lot?! i can already see people in new vegas in the tv show talking about “courier six” and one gambler going “i heard she was the meanist and smartist bitch in the wasteland!” and this gambler would be RIGHT.

(she’s also very in love when OWB rolls around but you didn’t hear that from me.)

#fallout new vegas #courier six #fnv #craig boone #fallout boone #fallout #fnv boone #veronica santangelo #fnv veronica #fallout veronica #fallout new vegas boone #fallout new vegas veronica #bombshells #girls who can kick your ass in chemistry AND hand-to-hand combat #the price: trauma so crippling you don’t let yourself feel love #until it hits you like a truck one day looking at the person you care for #MAY BELLS! MAY BELLS! MAY BELLS!#her real name soon with the main may post promise

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yunarim · 1 year

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ಇ. broken melodies | chapter 2

⇢ ⁺ THE SLIGHTLY CHIPPED FULL MOON ˖ Yuu realizes that Neige has something in common with Snow White and gets alarmed.

— PREVIEW (read for tags and synopsis) — MASTERLIST (open to read previous chapters) — AO3 ⁺ w.c : 12k+ this chapter contains mild usage of obscene language !

A sportswear designed for RSA remained in blue-and-white color scheme with a few additions of golden shades here and there. In contrast to the school uniform with dark blue trousers she wore yesterday, the sports outfit did a flip between top and bottom of the outfit, the pants being white with golden stripes and the t-shirt was dark blue this time, leaving a white jacket remaining optional. Yuu preferred the jacket being pulled on at first, but then, leaving Ambrose’s office and spotting Luan wearing it tied around the waist, she followed his example, tying it around a bit clumsily. She wasn’t really familiar with how it should look, always under the impression all the clothes she wears should look neatly on her, never leaving a room for a leisurely touch Luan seemed to possess.

She was called to the headmaster’s office early in the morning because of two reasons: to get her sports uniform and to get notified that the clock tower’s keeper would come and check it today. Ambrose, though ever so thoughtful and cordial, didn’t mention what the keeper is like. Yuu didn’t even notice herself she was quite attached to creating little scenarios in her head, and, following this habit, she still seemed unaware to imagining their meeting going from normal (meaning she won’t get kicked out of here, that would be normal from her perspective) to extreme (where she not only get kicked out but also get identity revealed and—).

In any case, Yuu spotted Luan and waved to him, corners of her lips rising slightly. A warm aura

around him made her wash off the worries for some time, and when Luan reciprocated the smile she pulled, Yuu greeted him politely.

“Good morning, Luan,” Yuu caught up with him and they moved towards the sports ground.

“Morning…” Luan yawned and Yuu saw cute little fangs he clicked right after closing his mouth. The hair on his head resembled a bird's nest, he rubbed his eyes with his fists and made an intensified attempt to open his eyelids with his fingers, sighing heavily.

Her smile widened, seeing him being so effortlessly adorable, and returned her gaze to the hall.

“Not a morning person?”

“Meh,” he shrugged. “Not that early morning, ‘kay? How in the world do you get up so early?”

“Mornings are magnificent,” Yuu started as they walked out of the main building. “The way sun rays feel on the skin resembles taking a bath with liquified gold…”

“Woah chill,” Luan said, astonished in a way with her highfalutin epithets. “It’s literally just morning. A good one though, since we’ve got a PE as a first class today, given I already overslept and missed the training with my personal trainer… Ugh.”

“Trainer?” Yuu repeated, but Luan just hummed mysteriously, nodding to her words.

“Uh-huh, he’s a toughie. Reasonable tho, you would like him too. Not to mention I highly recommend you to exercise from time to time.”

“That’s why you look so sporty,” Yuu noticed, her gaze sliding down his hands, average for a boy his age and yet quite muscular if tensed.

“You bet!” Luan’s beaming smile made Yuu giggle. “Even though you look like you might crumble just by a wind blowing. Seriously, are all of the Valley of Thorns girls that thin?”

“Valley of Thorns?..” Yuu repeated weakly when she noticed there were fewer people than in the main building.

“Not from there? You just have to see Dawnshine Savannah women one day. Hope you won’t get a cultural shock or something.”

Yuu’s head was about to spin with all the new information received. Apparently those were the names of the continents? Countries?.. Yuu wasn’t sure if she should have pushed it further to get to know more without looking suspiciously, so she just chuckled and then suddenly gasped as they entered the sports field.

The sports field was not something as grand as the main building, however, a huge forest looming before her eyes with a carpet of fresh greens lined on it and a forest stretching in the distance fascinated with its beauty.

The air was so hot that Yuu could see it melting into inert, lazy waves, and while Yuu didn't like hot weather, she wondered what PE had in store for her.

She observed the territory, noticing new faces she hadn't seen yesterday, which was a bit strange, given their class was all present (when Luan finally came in the middle of the day), and as for now, Yuu saw unfamiliar individuals, wondering what was the deal.

“Hm,” Luan said. “Guess we’re having joint classes today.”

“Joint?” She echoed.

“Yea, like, some of these people are second years. I don’t know why we’re having classes today with them, but who actually cares, right? It’s fine as long as it's fun.”

“I believe you’re right,” she agreed, not really following the concept of school as a whole, but accepting nevertheless. Moreover, Luan was definitely right about one thing — she hoped it would be fun.

Yuu talked with Luan for some time before a teacher finally made an appearance. Yuu felt how a gentle breeze came with him, tickling her nostrils and carrying a fresh aroma of green tea leaves, making her mind settle for a moment. Luan caught up with her, following her gaze when she looked somewhere near the gate, and noticed a new arrival.

“Oi, xiaohaizi! Good morning!”

Yuu gasped in amusement when the teacher summoned a broom, jumping on it and rising straight in the air, making a flip around his axis, and flying straight to the group of students gathered in the centre of the field. His long pitch-black hair was tied up with a red ribbon in a high ponytail. Yuu, following her inner beaming inquisitiveness, couldn’t tear her glare off his clothes, which reminded her of hanfu. His eyes of charcoal were slightly laughing at her unconcealed pry, and his child-like, almost pure features created an impression he was quite young.

He didn’t say anything about her curious mind, letting it be, and jumped off the broom he was riding, his hair cascading shoulders beautifully, resembling sea waves gently embracing a shore.

“First of all, sorry for today’s inconsistency in the curriculum. You might have noticed there’s two classes today,” he said, fixing an unamenable strand of his hair and tacking it behind his ear. “It was overlapping, so we decided it would be best to just let it be. Second years, you’ll have lessons according to the schedule next week, okay?”

Nods of understanding and little ‘okay’s were heard here and there as a response to his words.

“Well then, good,” he nodded, smiling slightly. “Now first years! Let me introduce myself. Come a bit closer, hm?”

Everyone did as he said, and right after Yuu noticed how first years outnumbered second ones, but quickly returned all her attention to the teacher.

“My name’s Xiao Qian. I’m your PE teacher, but we will meet during social sciences classes as well. Let’s get along!”

Yuu bowed politely out of habit, when others just remained silent or at least nodded, and stared back at Qian who found her reaction quite amusing.

“Where I’m from we appreciate those gestures of politeness,” Qian addressed to her, replying with a little bow as well, releasing Yuu’s nervousness. “Well then, let’s begin the lesson!”

Qian arranged the students in several rows. Yuu ended up in the first one on the left side, separated from Luan, who was standing at the very end on the right side. He winked at her as she hurriedly turned her gaze to him, and she smiled back, returning to stretching exercises.

Qian, who spoke to everyone in an absurdly friendly tone just a couple of minutes ago, turned out to be a rather serious teacher, whose gaze became stronger, if not even more severe. He carefully glided over each student, noticing the slightest movements, and alternately indicated which exercise was not performed accurately enough.

“Now off to the flying part,” Qian said, nodding when everyone finished stretching, ignoring heavy sighs of exhaustion, mostly let out due exaggeration. “Second years, I’m starting with you. First years, watch them closely.”

Yuu watched as a group of nearly 20 students came closer, making a row. She noticed how drastic the difference was between them and the second years, whose bodies looked obviously stronger, their eyes clearly beaming with a huge amount of experience. She was ready to peer into their movements with respect, extract something for herself, becoming a sponge, absorbing knowledge, but suddenly noticed one young man, slightly out of the crowd.

His pale coral hair, reminiscing sweet meringue, shone in light waves of curls under the bright sun, revealing the gradient of his locks, and light pink, weightless, almost transparent tips framed his delicate pale neck.

Yuu felt as if an otherworldly force caused her to peer into his eyes, riveting her gaze to his long eyelashes. His huge eyes, carved from two aquamarine crystals, endowed him with innocence, and his slightly parted plump lips as well as hummingbird-flutter of his eyelashes betrayed him, revealing his frustration. A fresh scent of salty sea waves embraced his only presence, putting Yuu’s mind at ease instantly.

Yuu felt something wasn’t right with how otherworldly he looked, which was fun and absurd for her to point that out subconsciously.

As other students demonstrated their skills, this boy nodded to the teacher and took the broom, taking a deep breath. He grabbed the broom, giving Yuu an impression he would break it with how strong his grip was, but he closed his eyes. Two seconds after, he flew the broom a couple of meters into the air, crossing his legs around the base of the broom, and glanced at the teacher, who smiled approvingly at him.

“That was a nice one,” Qian said when the boy came back to the ground, and thanked him. Yuu shivered at how sweet and gentle his voice sounded.

She followed him with her curious gaze and parted lips slightly when she noticed a little tremble covering his legs.

Serene voice of pureness, huge spellbinding eyes and trembling legs?.. Think harder, Yuu said to herself quietly when it was their turn to practice broom-riding. Her gaze lingered on the boy, a scent of sea foam and salt was radiating stronger now that she noticed, and when he turned, his eyes met her own, wide and full of realization, to which the boy tilted his head curiously.

“Ah!” She gasped, drawing the attention of those standing at her left and right, and quickly covered her mouth with hands.

“Something the matter?” Qian asked, but she shook her head from side to side.

Actually, there was. All those features he possessed reminded her of merfolk she met in Ariel’s realm once or twice when she was far younger. Yuu was fairly hesitant to make an assumption based on just those little features, but, unaware of her own current place in the world she happened to enter, it tempted her to find out.

As much as curious and eager to grasp the information she was, it would be unwise to do as she pleased, especially taking into consideration she didn’t know the boy. Her surroundings, this school, the people here, her own situation—all those appeared to be unanswered questions, and Yuu wasn’t sure if there was a way to figure out if she could receive answers at all.

The boy did an enormously great job to conceal his trembling limbs, with how everyone seemed to not care at all. Maybe they knew, indeed, and yet they didn’t seem like it was the case, so there was a possibility the boy was trying to hide how hard it was to just stand with those legs on land, mention of flights remaining unnecessary. Yuu admired him for that, but before she could push her thoughts any further, teacher Qian asked her to try riding a broom.

And that was another issue to be solved. Yuu chuckled nervously, taking a broom from the teacher's hands, carefully observing it.

“Have you ever tried flying before?” Qian asked, withdrawing a fan from his huge loose sleeve, and covered half of his face with it.

As a matter of flying, yes, Yuu definitely has tried. Not to mention, she was outstandingly skillful with her flying abilities, but riding a broom? Fairy Godmother hadn’t taught her that, and why would she? There was no particular use in brooms in the first place, so she had no idea how it should have been done.

“... No,” she answered in the end.

“That’s okay,” Qian answered, closing his eyes for a moment. “Flying is a difficult matter. One can be an extremely talented magician but can’t ride a broom for life… Not under my watch though.”

He was right. As much as Yuu could fly, she wondered about broadening her horizons and widening knowledge she possessed. Moreover, she couldn’t fly long distances with her own magic, so broom-flying seemed fascinating enough to try.

“Alright then,” Qian looked strictly at Yuu. “No spell needed to ride a broom. Visualization is the key here. Imagine the broom flying, then put some wind magic in there to make it work. And always keep in mind that making a broom fly is not the main task here.”

“What is?” Yuu asked, making sure to remember all the processes he explained.

“Keeping your balance is,” Qian said. “Consider the streamlining of the broom you use, the way aerodynamic properties change depending on how you ride the broom and how strong wind currents are. Shifting your weight forward will bring the handle down and so make it descend, and also leaning forward and putting some weight in it will make you speed up and… Oh, I’m getting carried away. The main task for you for now is to keep your balance midair and to not fall. Try it. I don’t take ‘I can’t’ as an answer. There’s no option other than to do your best on the battlefield anyway.”

Yuu felt how heavy his last sentence was. Teacher Qian was speaking from experience and Yuu wasn’t sure if she was feeling to find out what kind of experience it was.

Yuu stared at the broom, arranging the information on the shelves of her mind. Technically it was the moment she would reveal her magic to everyone, but at the same time it was okay. The only thing remaining was to try finding out how exactly she needed to perform the right magic arrangements.

Qian mentioned wind magic. Even though Yuu’s magic did divide into elemental types, but it didn’t include wind. She took a deep breath, hurriedly trying to remember if there were any analogues of wind magic despite the flying spell itself, but Qian said it was all about visualization, not spells casting magic.

“I understand it’s your first time practicing, but please do hurry up,” Qian said.

“I’m sorry,” she replied.

He was right. If exposing her magic was dangerous to the point she would be handed out to the government, then trying to make a simile of wind magic could be postponed to the later. Yuu sighed and parted her lips slightly, deciding that for now she should just try combining two magic types together and relying on luck. She placed the broom almost in a horizontal position so she could sit on it, still holding the handle with her bare hands.

“Oh faila maira súrë, á ortëa ni ana the orwa fanyarë.”

Yuu whispered so that no one could hear her, and recurrented wind flow to the broom, realizing she flew up slightly, her legs being on the same level as teacher Qian’s eyes.

“Not bad for a rookie,” Qian noticed, smiling approvingly at her. “Try rising a bit.”

Yuu nodded, wondering how in the world did it work and how she remained steady. Still holding the handler tightly, she pointed it up, and the broom followed the direction she noted, making her rise almost half higher than before.

“Good, but you moved a bit further. That’s okay for the first try, but next time try adjusting it so you’ll go just vertically up, okay?”

“Yessir,” Yuu answered, pointing the handle down and going down, then jumping off the broom.

“I see you’re not afraid of heights,” Qian noticed. “Good job. You can come here after 4pm to practice if you want.”

“I appreciate your help,” Yuu said.

The rest of the class went relatively in a calm manner, reminiscent of a lecture rather than a PE lesson. Qian added more details to how flights worked and then dismissed everyone. Yuu couldn’t manage to notice where Luan went, so she decided it would be okay for her to head out to the next class alone.

First she needed to change her clothes. Even though Ambrose said that it’s all arranged and she can be late for 5-10 minutes for the lessons because there were no places where she could change comfortably within school facilities, leaving the clock tower the only option remaining. Yuu appreciated the thoughtfulness, but decided she would never be late nevertheless, so she hurried back to the ‘dormitory’.

She quickly passed the forest she happened to enter yesterday where she met Neige. Memories flashed in her mind at once, bringing Yuu to recall the sad smile he wore that evening, wondering what could be the reason. Would he be okay with seeing her again?

Yuu never was a person to easily initiate a dialogue, let alone with a person who was apparently quite popular. Neige seemed like he didn’t want other people to know about that scene she appeared to become a part of. Yuu had no intention of telling anyone else—there was no person she could have anyway. And even so, Neige reminded her of a gentle light, leading a moth, that would be Yuu, to it, alluringly bewitching her and making her follow him. That was a fun, if not absurd comparison, given she was the one who possessed a ‘Butterflies’ friend’ title.

Speaking of which, Yuu made sure no one was around and summoned a pink butterfly that eagerly greeted her, dancing around her face, and fluttered its wings in a joyful way.

“It’s nice to see you too, little one.”

Butterfly followed her to the clock tower, where Yuu summoned her magic wand and quickly changed her clothes with a magic touch, then made the wand disappear, and hurried back to the main building.

A tantalizing aroma of something sweet and baked tickled Yuu’s nose when the class ended and she went out of the auditorium, making her way to the cafeteria.

Entering a familiar place, she allowed herself to stop for a second and enjoy the pleasant aroma of a pie filled with honey—it’s been a while since she last tried honey cake!—and hurried to gargoyles.

“Good afternoon, Vittorio,” she greeted the gargoyle, smiling at him slightly.

“Afternoon,” he confirmed. “Anything you’d like to try?”

“Ah, hmm…” Yuu observed today’s assortment and decided she’d go for avocado salad with cottage cheese as a main dish. “That one salad, please. And one slice of honey pie.”

“Coming right up,” Vittorio said, placing everything she ordered on the tray. “You should try the chamomile tea we’re serving today.”

“If it won’t be hard to serve for me, then I’d be glad to.”

“You sweet child,” Vittorio chuckled and poured hot water into the cup. “Drop the honorifics, kids here don’t use them nowadays. Here you go, enjoy your lunch!”

“Thank you very much!” Yuu ignored the ‘honorifics’ part and still bowed nevertheless, deciding where she should sit today.

She noticed the table she was occupying yesterday during lunch was already taken by someone else, as well as the majority of tables on the second floor. She frowned, trying to find another table for at least two with no one around, and succeeded — a table for three right next to the window.

Yuu took a seat, enjoying the tea aroma floating in the air, and started consuming food, being quite impatient to try honey cake. She couldn’t be referred to as a sweet tooth, but sugary and honey flavors were still fairly tasty and could be enjoyed once in a while.

Once Yuu finished the salad, she finally took a bite of honey pie, watching honey slowly flowing out of the cake, soaking the layer even more. She seemed to be out of the process for a moment, staring at the golden liquid absentmindedly, and immediately thought of Neige’s eyes. Would they remind her of honey under the sun rays, shining brightly? Or would his eyes, two precious agates, remain still with an elusive presence of loneliness?

Yuu knitted the brows, sighing. He was so mysteriously enchanting, that Neige. Yuu hoped everything was alright, but a bitter feeling of something dubious was following her even now. How strange, indeed.

“Man, who would have thought that Neige would do another ad so soon.”

Yuu winced. For a second she thought that her thoughts had materialized out of nowhere and everyone could hear what she was thinking about so hard. She turned to her left, noticing a group of students taking the seats and discussing Neige, and as much as she valued privacy, it couldn’t be helped with how good and accurate her hearing was.

“You don’t say,” another student replied. “Dude’s amazing. No matter how hard we try, there’s no way we can reach his level.”

“To be able to study in the same academy as Neige…” Another boy added. “Sometimes I think I got too lucky.”

“Same here. I kinda think he’s unreachable.”

“Right?” The first to speak student nodded. “But imagine making so much money.”

“Must be funny in a rich man’s world,” a student answered, sighing dreamily.

As far as Yuu remembered, it never was. People tended to be greedy in princesses’ worlds, but since she couldn’t grasp the main idea of money itself, she was as much from relating to these students talking. She has learnt it’s important to appreciate those who worked and earned money, other people’s effort and mentality for being that strong, but she also never worked for money herself. The word itself was vague and abstract to her, and when her Godmother told she should always pay back, it wasn’t necessarily money. Valuable things were far from just gold and banknotes, but what exactly?..

“Don’t you kinda think his play was overrated in the last movie though?”

Yuu’s ears twitched.

“Huh? Now that you said it… maybe it kinda was, yeah…”

“Doesn’t he like, always smiling and giggling here and there?”

“Hey, it’s not to that extent… Bet if they’d put you into it, you would resemble a robot.”

“Yeah, your acting is extremely lame dude, no offense.”

“Hey!!”

“Hey,”

Why… would they talk about him behind his back? Yuu frowned, drowning deeper in her thoughts. Neige was someone she saw once in her life, and even if he pulled an act during their first meeting, was he really such a hypocrite, yearning for money? Or was his play really that bad as they just said? No, she shouldn’t judge his character just by that and—

“Hey~”

“Oh?”

Yuu raised her gaze and saw Che’nya holding a tray with food with one hand, another one resting on his hip, his tail wiggling cheerfully. Yuu smiled a bit subconsciously, unaware of genuineness beaming from her.

“Che’nya-san, good afternoon.”

“Good nyafternoon,” he grinned, taking a seat in front of her without asking, but Yuu didn’t seem to mind at all. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Just having a meal. What are you going to have, Che’nya-san?”

“Mmm~ Can’t you tell?”

Yuu threw a quick glance at his meal, recognizing fish in breadcrumbs and sour cream sauce in a small gravy boat. He resembled a real cat so much it was starting to be funny.

“Fish,” she said. “I was expecting that at some point.”

“Right~” Che’nya consumed a small bite, chewing the food in a cute way as Yuu smiled at him adoringly. “How’s your day going?”

“Pretty much okay,” Yuu nodded, realizing she wasn’t uncomfortable sharing some information with him about herself. It felt good that he asked. “PE was fun.”

“Hmm~” Che’nya hummed mysteriously.

He stopped talking for some time while eating as Yuu was watching people walking here and there, but when she returned her full attention to Che’nya and turned to him, she found him scrolling something with his finger on a strange device Yuu had no memory of.

Asking Che’nya wasn’t the best decision. Was it something everyone had in the property? A small little box-shaped thing with purple stripes on its edges, plastic cat ears… Yuu was extremely curious. Is that… machinery?! Yuu felt her fingers trembling slightly in excitement. The box radiated slightly blue light and something Che’nya was looking at was running somewhere far away so fast that even Yuu’s vision couldn’t catch at least something. There was… text? Yes, it was some kind of text. But what exactly? And where did it go as Che’nya scrolled down??

Yuu watched closely, thinking the text Che’nya scrolled was coming out of the box, dissolving in the air while she didn’t see. But how? What kind of magic was it?

“O’nya~” Che’nya said, amused by her reaction and widened eyes.

“C-che’nya-san,” Yuu stumbled, realizing she became too curious, and coughed. “Please don’t mind me.”

“Hm-hm~” He hummed, returning his glance to the thing Yuu thought was a box. “As you say.”

Yuu couldn’t follow Che’nya’s eyes fixing on her own, their roles switching, and now Yuu reminding him of a cat following a trembling sunbeam. And Che’nya didn’t seem to mind at all, quite enjoying her amusing reaction.

“Oh,” Che’nya suddenly said, stopping his finger scrolling the pages (or what it was) as his smile dropped.

“Is something the matter?” Yuu asked.

“Hm,” his eyes lost their sparkles for a moment. “I don’t like it…”

“Yes?..”

“Oi, Yuu! Hey!”

Yuu turned at a source of someone calling her name and spotted Luan at the entrance. She smiled at him when he approached their table, the aroma of freshly cooked meat and some herbs—she instantly recognized basil, green onion and a small hint of cilantro being mixed—lingered in the air as he bent down to look right into Yuu’s eyes.

“Let’s eat together next time!”

Yuu never realized his smile was that contagious until the corners of her own lips went up. It was the smile that couldn’t be concealed at all costs, Luan revealed his teeth and giggled softly, bright lapis of his eyes shining joyfully.

“I don’t mind,” she said before thinking. “Even though you were the one to leave early today.”

“Damn, you’re right,” he gasped. Yuu wondered about the very first word he said, the ‘damn’ one. What was that?.. “Sorry ‘bout that. Oh.”

Luan finally spotted Che’nya glancing his way all this time and put his tray on the table before stretching out his hand.

“I’m Luan!” He greeted his upperclassman. “And you?”

“Nya-ce to meet you, Luan. I’m Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. Che’nya for short~” He shook Luan’s hand, and Yuu noticed just now how strong his grip actually seemed. “Come sit.”

Luan followed his words and took a seat at Yuu’s right, still staring at the upperclassman. Apparently he wasn’t agast to his name.

“Which class are you?” As expected, Luan dropped any honorifics from the very beginning, his tail waving slightly as his ears twitched.

“3-A, nya.”

“THIRD— Yooo bro you don’t even look like my upperclassman.”

“Luan, I don’t think it’s polite to—”

“Who cares?~” Che’nya reassured you it was okay. “As long as you’re having fun, everything’s nya-kay.”

Yuu blinked twice, awestruck by their similarity in enjoying fun things, but preferred to refrain from saying anything at this point.

“You seem like a cool guy,” Luan nodded to himself. “Add me on MagiCam.”

“Sure, gimme your phone.”

Luan casually fumbled in his pockets and fished out another box-like device, larger in size than Che’nya’s. It was now decorated with a black-colored shining case with a pattern resembling claw marks and Luan’s name was written in giant impressive letters, and Yuu spotted how fancy and shining his box was, unlike cracked and dented Che’nya’s one.

But at least she could catch the name of the device! That was a phone. Yuu wondered what that little thing could do despite dissolving text in the air after letting it out of the device. She also had yet to find out what ‘MagiCam’ could be…

“Oi Yuu,” Luan turned to her. “Gimme your MagiCam acc ID too.”

“Uhm…” She frowned. Now it was obvious that the phone was a thing that at least two of them possessed, and according to his words, Yuu obviously should have had it too.

Even if she hadn’t.

“What’s the matter?”

“I, um,” she smiled sheepishly. “I don’t have a phone.”

Luan blinked at her, showing no emotion for a second before giggling.

“Lmao I almost thought you’re for real,” he laughed. “Ok now gimme your ID.”

Yuu threw a quick glance at Che’nya, thinking he would help her escape this peak of embarrassment, but he only leaned up to them, resting chin on his hands and grinning slyly.

“No way,” Luan grabbed her by the shoulders. “You can’t be real!”

“I’m afraid I can…”

“Damn…” Luan mumbled and pulled quite a theatrically dramatical facial expression, covering his mouth with hands. “Valley of Thorns is wilder than I thought.”

Again that Valley of Thorns. Yuu started to await geography lessons the next day with quite an eagerness.

Luan scrolled down the pages on the box—ugh, phone—and suddenly stopped just like Che’nya did not so long ago. Was there something frightening?

“I guess some people just have a lot of free time,” he said, clicking his tongue. “So lame.”

“Right you are,” Che’nya said, drawing Yuu’s attention.

“Did something happen?” She asked as Che’nya gave her his phone and pointed to a message. An article?..

She needed some time to get used to the way text was written and how drastic the difference with a book was, but then checked the content closely and gasped.

↳✉ Neige is so annoying

↳✉ How tf did he win again

↳✉ Pathetic

↳✉ He’s just all about his youthful looks, he’s got no skills

↳✉ He should never play again lol

↳✉ This brat

↳✉ Wasn’t it revealed that his fanbase just bought 20k votes?

↳✉ I fucking hate him

Yuu covered her mouth with a hand, fixing her worried gaze on Che’nya who wasn’t smiling at all and seemed rather annoyed at what he read. Even though she didn’t understand half of the words—brat? Votes? What kind of votes? Also what is fucking?..—she could grasp the gist. The hate was spreading, and the words were surely venomous.

“Some of Vil’s fans are sure crazy,” Luan exclaimed indignantly.

Vil? Yuu didn’t know this name but decided not to interfere yet.

“There’s no denying,” Che’nya confirmed.

Yuu bit her lip. Weren’t people… letting themselves too much to say? As she understood, Neige seemed to be quite popular, someone who was recognized at least within this school quite well. Well enough for people gossiping and saying terrible things.

“He’s only a burden in the theatre club…” Luan quotted someone, as Yuu presumed. “Huh, there’s also people from this school hating him, too? Gonna give a good old punching.”

“Now now,” Che’nya calmed him down. “Creating more problems for him would be unwise. There’s another road to take…”

“Road?” Yuu echoed, meeting her his deep eyes glimmering with an emotion she couldn’t read.

Yuu watched Luan’s fingers fly over the phone, a red button appearing on it saying ‘Report and block’, and even if Yuu didn’t fully understand how phones worked, she believed Luan did the right thing to do.

“Come to think of it, were you two introduced to the club system in the academy, hmm?”

“Clubs?” Yuu asked, wondering what was that.

“Yeah, I kinda heard of them. They say club presidents will hold somethin’ like an open day two weeks later to get new members, right?”

“Correct,” Yuu saw his striped purple tail waving cutely. “Is there any club you want to join?”

“I definitely want to, idk which one though. We’ll see,” Luan said, taking a huge bite of the dish he brought, and turned to Yuu. “Oi Yuu, what do you think? Have you found something suited for yourself?”

According to what Luan said, there was a theatre club. And that was the only information she received so far, making it difficult to say anything yet. Then again, what if everyone already knew which clubs existed within the school facilities, and she would look uninformed and even ignorant to the point of stupidity?

“I’m not sure as well…” She decided to go with the safest option for now, catching Che’nya’s cheeky smile.

“Anything you’re interested in?” He asked her.

Yuu immediately frowned, knitting her brows together. Interests? It’s not like it was a matter of interests and her own preferences when it came to rescuing. Fairy Godmother taught her it was important to be a perfectionist, good in everything and especially in reacting fast when the situation could go under her own control.

She tried going further to the shelves of her mind, observing them carefully and trying to pick at least something that could be interpreted as an interest or an activity she would genuinely enjoy and be good at. A block, the same as on the mirror she tried to cast, covered her memory. There was no clue. Nothing that could be attached to her, creating a certain characterization and attribute about her own personality. Her as a person.

“Yuu?” Luan looked straight into her eyes, slightly putting a hand over her shoulder. “You ok, buddy?”

“Buddy?..” She floated out of the ocean of her thoughts, taking a deep breath of fresh air when her classmate’s reassuring tone comforted her. “Oh, please pardon me.”

“Damn it sure hit you hard, didn’t it? Come on, you still have two weeks and even more time to think it over. We’ve got to see all the clubs nevertheless. You never know what you could find, right, Che’nya?”

“Indeed,” his tail wiggled, reassuringly reaching for Yuu’s hand and tickling it slightly, and Yuu noticed only now how closely they’ve been sitting. “There’s a way of applying for your own club if you feel like there’s no clubs fitting you.”

Yuu smiled weakly, but appreciated their help.

Was it even right for her to think about such matters as clubs and interests? Certainly there was a princess, or maybe a prince to be rescued, and it was urgent. Once she rescues them, there will definitely be a way for her to return back home, so Yuu closed her eyes, letting her mind sponge the atmosphere of sweet happy school days and making friends. She must appreciate it while it is available, and once it is not…

She must do her best in order to not get attached.

Something ticklish was echoing within her head, causing Yuu to remember Neige again. Apparently he was a part of the theatre club and an actor himself, from what she heard. Yuu knew almost nothing about acting, but she encountered the consequences of being popular. Being watched.

Princesses and Neige somehow seemed to have many things in common, and the major one was their popularity. Princesses were seen, there was no room for resting as someone was always watching them. Neige seemed to have minor differences compared to them that Yuu couldn’t confirm for now, such as was he a part of royalty or not, but nevertheless—he was being seen, and to the point of a viscous menacing trace following him.

Figures of authority, princesses and popular people—indeed, if Yuu would pick the word to characterize all them, it would be ‘limits’. They may pretend well enough it was alright, to pull the masks of genuineness and happiness, as if nothing really happened when it actually did. Harvest of the popularity couldn’t be seen from the very beginning, it all started with seeds, which were growing within society not rapidly, but step by step, leaving the hints of their presence in people’s hearts and minds. Then they would grow, lingering in conversations and rumors, the leaves of rottenness falling everywhere, pollinating minds with already unconcealed hate and desire to see more.

People tend to crave for more, they always have been, and they surely won’t stop. Yuu swallowed with disgust as someone walked behind her, saying something about Neige again.

And maybe… maybe it was Neige who she needed to rescue all along?

A pink butterfly was flowing around, following Yuu’s unhurried walk to the clock tower. Yuu breathed in a vespertine coldness and freshness, enjoying it after surviving under the hot sun in the morning, and hummed to herself as sea waves enveloped the shore, blowing around salty yet gentle marine fragrance.

The clock tower was located on a separate from the other land cliff, making it a small island, which was connected to the main one with a stone bridge. Yuu came closer to the main door and stopped for a moment, a butterfly following her stumbling into her back.

🗒 ➛ The building is currently being on maintaining checking.

“Ah, so the person came,” Yuu nodded to herself, feeling her heartbeat going a bit more rapidly than before.

Even if the person was the one who was checking this building for an unknown to Yuu amount of time, she thought of them not as the keeper, but as her guest she needed to welcome cordially.

She went straight to the small kitchen, not even thinking about changing clothes, and pulled two cups out of the cabinet, then brewed jasmine tea. Gasping at the lack of appetizers, Yuu panicked for a moment.

“It’s not right to serve tea without anything…” She mumbled, coming up with an idea.

She snapped her fingers, and a virid butterfly appeared. It gently tapped on Yuu’s nose and flew around with a pink butterfly, which was still there.

“Hello to you,” she greeted a butterfly, pointing at a small flower pot on the windowsill. “Would it be okay for you to grow a small rose? I need some petals.”

The butterfly danced around approvingly, and a cloud of green sparkles surrounded the pot. After making its job, the butterfly disappeared with similar sparkles, leaving a big bright red rose.

“Great,” Yuu smiled. “Now to the fun part.”

She took a handful of petals and summoned a magic wand. All she needed now required a little visualization and creativity, so Yuu hummed joyfully, holding petals when with a dim light sparkles petals became caramelized and sugary.

“That would do,” she nodded to herself, the magic wand disappearing in the air. “Now I wonder where the keeper would be.”

She put two cups of tea and a small plate of caramelized rose petals on the tray, carrying it with one hand, and decided to go up to the top of the tower, right where the clock was located.

Yuu saw a figure of a man bent over papers with astrological drawings and notes, and hesitated to approach him, who looked so unbelievably ethereal and unreachable.

And before she could take at least one step towards him, a strange aura conveying his silhouette leaning over papers refrained Yuu from coming any further. It felt as if chains shackled her body, holding her in one place.

“Good evening.”

Yuu winced slightly. A low, velvety timbre, devoid of emotion, but nonetheless attractive and endearing, vibrated in the air, ricocheting off the walls and echoing around the room.

“Now that you’re here, I can go back,” he said, gathering his things before he straightened his back. “I’ll notify you next time I come. Stay safe.”

“W-wait!”

Yuu outstretched one available hand and tried to stop him with a gesture, and the keeper actually stayed.

“I brought some tea,” she said, pointing at the tray she was holding. “Would you like to share it with me?”

“... Alright. Would you like to have a chat then? Tea is the best when shared with someone,” he fell silent for a moment before chuckling slightly.

Yuu smiled and finally came closer, still having a strong presence of… lack of the presence itself.

She came closer, putting a tray on a small table when the keeper offered her a chair she took right after him.

“Is there anything you’re worrying about? Your pupils have been trembling since you stepped into the room.”

Yuu jolted slightly and looked straight into his eyes.

The keeper of the clock tower turned out to be a handsome-looking young man, despite the fact that in Yuu's imagination, he should have been respectably older. Porcelain skin on a pale face was adorned with a scattering of freckles, and yet despite such a childish perky detail, his light blue eyes betrayed an absolute emptiness in him. There was no patch of reflected light shining in them, and Yuu could not see the pupils, as if his eyes were made of void, revealing the fact that the artist had forgotten to finish this detail for him.

The unruly, light curls of his raven-colored hair cascaded over his chiseled cheekbones, and his thin lips were closed in a single line.

However, the most prominent feature was undoubtedly his left arm. The steel mechanism with painted floral patterns and perfectly machined hinges that replaced the original limb looked unequivocally impressive, but not intimidating.

And yet Yuu was frowning, trying to get deeper into his soul, to feel if it was warm or cold, was he radiating gnawing sadness or piercing happiness—he was empty, a bottle with nothing in it.

As if he was dead.

“You look like you have a question.”

“Yes, that is correct, though I’m not sure if it would be okay to ask…”

“Let me guess… You wonder what I am,” he said so calmly it was startling.

“I’m sorry for being rude—”

“You aren’t,” he noticed, his voice balancing between steady and emotionless but also cheeky?.. Was it even alright for her to describe his voice that way? “I’m sorry for confusing you.”

“Oh, no, that is alright… Please, enjoy the tea and the appetizer I prepared.”

“Appetizer?” He asked, taking a petal and observing it, a ghosty hint of curiosity appearing in his eyes for a mere moment. “This petal?”

“Yes, I’ve made it myself. It’s caramelized rose petals, they’re sweet but not too much. I hope you’ll enjoy it…”

“Thank you for your cordial welcome,” he bowed to her politely, receiving the same gesture from her. “Well then, my name is Prospero.”

“My pleasure to meet you,” Yuu replied. “I’m Yuu.”

“The pleasure’s mine. Ah,” he said after taking a bite of the rose petal and shifting his gaze to Yuu, his eyes softening slightly. “This is very much enjoyable, you did a good job. Not to mention you’re quite a creative little lady.”

“Thank you!” Yuu answered cheerfully, happy that her work was acknowledged.

“To answer your curiosity from before,” he continued after sipping tea. “I’m this clock tower’s keeper, the shop keeper as well as an appointed school psychologist and a teacher. Remember well the psychologist part. If anything happens and you’ll feel like anything is too much, please come to me. I’m here to help with any problems you might encounter while studying. School life can be rather harsh sometimes. Especially given you’re the only female here… Seriously, what was Ambrose thinking.”

“N-no, that is alright!! The headmaster gave me a place to live, considering my situation. How could I ask for more…” Yuu mumbled.

Prospero drew a mechanical hand to his chin, humming to himself in a nagging way but not really saying anything, to which Yuu wondered what that could mean, and stared at his hand. Floral patterns shone beautifully in the dim lights of the clock tower, but now that she took a closer look, the steel part appeared to be fairly scratched?..

“Apparently you wonder what happened to my arm, right?” He asked, noticing how she winced and shook her head awkwardly. “No, that’s okay, it’s natural. Don’t worry, I just had… rather difficult past.”

“I hope it’s better now…” Yuu said quietly, catching sight of little emotion she couldn’t read at the moment. He was pretty hard to analyze in general. “If I can be of help, then—”

“Children must stay children as long as they can,” he said, spotting how her ears twitched. “No need to age so early. Even though I don’t really know how you faes age.”

“H-huh? You’re aware?”

“As everyone here among the school staff is aware of your situation. Don’t worry, no one will use it against you. Speaking of which, I don’t hide my own being, but would be much appreciated if you don’t blabber about it everywhere. I don’t really want to deal with an extra headache. By the way, I feel like you’ve been wanting to ask me about that all this time, correct?”

How do you even ask if you’re alive or not, Yuu thought, slightly annoyed, and took a deep breath.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Yuu said. “But you’re right about that, I want to know who… or what you are. Oh, forgive me for being rude—”

“Worry not,” he reassured her. “As to your question, I’m a puppet. Bonus points for you if you’ll manage to guess correctly from what material I was made. Don’t forget to visit my shop later on.”

“Puppet…” Yuu echoed.

No wonder his presence wasn’t felt at all. He’s no human, he has no soul or anything that could be counted as one.

Yuu dared to look at him, seeing he didn’t really mind her closer observation, and lost in thoughts and concentration. She had some experience in guessing people’s true beings—she was exceptionally good at finding merfolk—but neither human nor a magical being? Presuming objects’ properties wasn’t her best part, but Prospero wasn’t an object in the first place, though how he should be called if so remained unknown.

His steel arm was out of place, but Yuu somehow was sure it’s not it. He didn’t smell like steel, there was almost nothing metallic in him, but a slight hint of something sylvan, carrying fragrant herbs aroma alongside with oak bark tickled Yuu’s nose.

“You’re,” Yuu raised her head and looked straight into his eyes, sure of her guess. “Made from wood.”

And with that being said, Yuu winced at her own assumption. Wait a moment, if was a wooden puppet, or rather a doll, then could he be?..

Pinocchio. He had a strange, absolutely absurd and unbelievable relation to Pinocchio.

Prospero chuckled and started clapping quietly.

“Correct,” he grinned, and she wasn’t sure how this emotion felt. He was smiling, but what was the feeling within his chest? Was there anything at all? “I must say, I’m pretty much impressed. People think I’m a porcelain puppet.”

“You look like one,” Yuu admitted. “I was confused at first.”

“My master had outstanding skills. Anyway, as I’ve mentioned, I’ll guarantee a discount for you next time you visit. And please do remember my psychological services require no payment.”

“Oh,” Yuu muttered. “Right, you’ve mentioned that… kind of job?”

“I see you haven’t yet happened to visit a psychologist,” Prospero said. “Which is neither bad nor good. Even when we think we’re okay, it might be that we don’t. If you feel confused or anxious, or maybe even too giddy to the point it’s alarming, let me know. I’m here to help, alright?”

“Thank you very much,” she said, even knowing that there won’t be any need for that. Appreciating his good intentions, yet realizing she will leave soon, Yuu smiled at him and bowed.

“Don’t mention it.”

The rest of the conversation went quite well as they discussed Yuu’s adjusting to the school and Prospero’s shop. He suggested she visit him tomorrow, at least to take a look at where he works and where to find him if something happens within the clock tower’s walls. She nodded, thinking that she will definitely need to observe his relation to Pinocchio later on in the library.

And so she decided to do it the next morning before going to the lessons.

RSA was an enormously large school. Yuu knew schools exist but no to the extent of knowing their average sizes, thus RSA felt grand and majestic in its own way. Every time Yuu walked within the facilities, she was being under an impression that the world is huge, blossoming in its glory and magnificence.

Princesses' worlds had never been that large.

What was strange to Yuu is that this world seemed to know no boundaries, whilst whenever she would try traveling in a Princess’s world, she would definitely meet a dead-end. A black wall full of nothing but void, symbolizing its end. At first Yuu was terrified, thinking it was some sort of an obstacle, but somehow Princesses couldn’t even see it, asking Yuu where she would go and for what reason.

Fairy Godmother told her that their realms had limits and barriers that Princesses weren’t aware of. Which was quite puzzling to Yuu—didn’t it mean she needed to erase them, make Princesses free and enjoy the world they live in? And yet…

They would giggle straight at her face, calling her cute and silly. Why would they leave when they met the Prince of their dreams? Why travel and broaden horizons? Indeed, they achieved what they needed and wanted, justice was settled, and Yuu’s work finished.

Their worlds might have resembled big bubbles, very well imitating a real world with its spacious sceneries, but in the end it was nothing but a cage. And Yuu was fascinated with how lively and real this world seemed, given she only has been here, in the Academy, and didn’t know if there is anything else beside it, but the landscape opening out of the window in her room shown an endless sea shimmering with bright sparkles under the moonlight, giving her a ray of light ghosty hope.

She didn’t notice how she made it up to the Prospero’s shop. A small, quaint hut, nonetheless in keeping with the local architecture, appeared before her. Yuu made sure that it was open, and knocked thrice before she heard distant ‘Come in!’ somewhere from the shop, said in Prospero’s deep voice.

As soon as Yuu took a step inside, the wooden floorboard creaked. Had she been taller, she would probably have run into the hat hanging on the rack at the entrance. Fanciful paintings hung on the wall near the hanger, as well as framed dried rare flowers. Directly ahead of them was a cylindrical vendor's counter, behind which Yuu spotted Prospero rummaging through the merchandise.

Behind him was a spiral staircase. To the right of the vendor's counter, there were many shelves and racks filled with various gear, flasks, boxes, containers, and other amusing crafts. Behind the stairs were racks filled with ordinary food, as well as flower pots randomly placed on the shelves. The crystal elongated hexagon chandeliers shimmered in pale pinks and dull yellows, giving the shop an air of mystery, as if Yuu had walked into a witch's stall.

“Good morning, Prospe— Oh?”

Yuu went further, curious and absolutely spellbound about every little thing in here, but before she could greet the clock tower’s keeper, she almost stumbled upon something… or rather someone?

“Hmph, watch where you’re going!!”

Yuu lowered her gaze and spotted… a dwarf?! It’s been a while since she last saw them!! Yuu stared at him, who was sweeping the floor, and then knelt down, looking straight into his steel gray eyes, fixing the unruly lock of his crimson hair and causing him to shrug her hand.

“Oh, I’m deeply sorry… Are you alright?”

“What do you think you’re doing?! I’m not a child!!”

“Yes, I know,” Yuu smiled at him, wondering why his eyes would widen so suddenly. “You’re around 17 or 18 years old. Am I correct?”

“Hmph, you fool.”

“Grum, it’s impolite to answer like that.”

Yuu turned around to see another dwarf walking down the stairs and carrying some books. Unlike Grum who appeared to be the dwarf Yuu was talking to, he had ash-colored hair, brown eyes and was wearing glasses, a gentle apologetic smile plastered on his face.

“Good morning!” He greeted Yuu before standing on tiptoes, and barely reached the shelf, but Yuu quickly ran up to him, helping to place the books at the right height. “Thank you, young lady! Please don’t mind Grum for his rudeness, he’s actually flustered you guessed his age right.”

“Oh!” Yuu gasped. “So is it 17 or 18?”

“We’re 17,” he said, outstretching his hand for Yuu to shake, so she did. “I’m Dominic. And you would be?..”

“I’m Yuu.”

“Here to buy something, Yuu? I can help! What do you need?”

“Oh, no, I was just curious…” She smiled sheepishly. Grum went upstairs, still sulking, as Dominic chuckled.

“Which is also great!” He exclaimed. “You can pick anything eye-catching, and I’ll tell a story about the item. Or I can also pour some tea.”

“There’s no need, but thank you for your cordial welcome,” Yuu couldn’t help but pat his head, seeing Dominic’s tender smile. They weren’t children, but a child-like appearance made it impossible not to pat them and spoil a little.

“Dominic, look! Maybe this thing could help Neige?!”

Another dwarf came from upstairs, causing both Yuu and Dominic to switch their attention to him, blond strands of his hair were pulled out from under clips in the shape of musical notes.

“Don't run up the stairs,” Dominic nagged softly, but it appeared the dwarf didn’t really care as much.

Yuu tilted her head curiously. Did he just mention Neige?..

“And before anything, greet the customer.”

“Oh, sorry!~” The sunny cheerful-looking dwarf finally noticed Yuu standing here all along. “Good morning!”

“Good morning indeed,” Yuu smiled. “What is your name?”

“Hop,” he smiled proudly.

“I’m Yuu, nice to meet you, Hop.”

“So what did you want to show me?” Dominic came closer to Hop, taking a bottle with a soft lilac liquid in it and examining it before frowning. “Hop…”

“It says ‘sleeping pill’!! If Neige can’t sleep, then we must make him!”

“Hop, no.”

“Why no…”

“I can’t give you that without a prescription,” Prospero said, materializing out of nowhere behind Dominic. “There’s only one person on the campus who can anyway...”

So Yuu wasn’t mistaken, they really have been talking about Neige. Somehow Neige and dwarfs in one sentence sounded extremely familiar to her, but she decided to not rush it yet, and then another dwarf with short jade green hair and hazel eyes wearing an eye sleep mask on his head came from upstairs.

“Dominic…I think… I found something…Useful…”

Dominic chuckled, tilting his head and asking what exactly he found.

“This,” another dwarf said. “Neige plays such a… terrifying loud music at night… Can’t sleep.”

Terrifying loud music?.. Somehow Yuu wondered if that could be true, given his image seemed rather tender and warm, but she shrugged those thoughts, knowing prejudice wouldn’t help.

Another dwarf gave Dominic two cylindrical things that look like pills?.. Yuu bent over to take a closer look, but this device was unknown to her.

“Earplugs,” Dominic sighed. “Well, if it could help you, Shelpie… How much for earplugs, teacher Prospero?”

Prospero, starting walking upstairs, sighed, closing his eyes, and the next second his voice became dim and slightly annoyed.

“For you? Nothing. It’s just plugs.”

“But we can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Prospero already went up, and a loud thud of the boxes he carried was heard. “Timmy, help me out there.”

Timmy? Apparently there were more dwarfs than Yuu saw in the span of last five minutes.

“I can’t just let him spoil us with so many things already…” Dominic mumbled, returning Yuu’s attention to him as Grum returned to the place where he was sweeping the floor and throwing a glance at her.

“Do you perhaps work here?”

“We’re part-timing, you’re correct,” Dominic said, fishing out of his pockets a small amount of coins and placing them on Prospero’s desk while he didn’t see. “We sweep the floors, help arrange the goods, wipe the dust... You can see for yourself, although the shop is small, there is always a lot of stuff.”

Yuu looked at the bright red brooch on his jacket—come to think of it, other dwarfs had them. too—she also saw it on Neige that evening, wasn’t it symbolizing they belong to the same dormitory… As far as she remembered, Che’nya said it was called Edelwiese.

“You must be working hard,” Yuu said when Dominic took another broom and joined Grum, who was still sweeping the floor. “Please remember to take some breaks from time to time.”

“You’re very kind, Yuu,” Dominic smiled at her. “Please don’t worry.”

She observed the shop for a while, carefully taking stuff in her hands, examining it and wondering how in the world did Prospero manage to find all those. Yuu also appeared to be lost in thoughts while observing things and noticing they were fairly… old, so to say, if not ramshackle. Useful even still, but old in any case. Which was strange, Yuu thought, switching her gaze to the shelf with snacks on it, which looked quite modern and unfamiliar to Yuu. What a strange shop it was, indeed.

There were even curious artifacts, enchanted jewelry, rare herbs, and gems that Yuu would love to acquire, but for lack of local currency, there was no point in doing so. Besides, after rescuing the princess or the prince, she must return home anyway, so, overcoming her curiosity, she shook her head and said goodbye to Prospero and the dwarves as she left the shop.

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

Emery ascended the tribunal, checking out if there was anyone absent, and starting the lesson right after.

“Today we’re going to discuss magic properties and to which types it divides,” Emery said, grabbing a chalk. “But before that, tell me which magic type you think you’re pretty much confident in. It’s alright if you’re not sure, just remain silent then.”

Yuu placed her chin on hands, watching Luan start fidgeting slightly in excitement.

“Is there magic you’re confident in?” She asked him quietly.

“You betcha,” he giggled before raising his hand.

“Yes, Luan?”

“Wind magic!”

The way Luan smiled, raising his chin up, and giggled, reminded her of someone… Was it because of his youthful appearance and cheeky yet playful attitude?—

“Great,” Emery nodded. “Yuu? Maybe you have something?”

Yuu bent her brows, thinking hard. She was, indeed, quite a talented sorceress, but in terms of this world’s magic? It was risky to reveal, not even knowing the types the magic divided. Hearing Luan’s one helped her a bit, meaning it still divided at least on elemental types, but to what extent? Yuu first threw a quick glance on Luan, whose tail was wagging in anticipation, and decided to go with the safest assumption.

“Flora,” she said almost weightlessly.

“... As expected,” Emery grinned in a mysterious way, which Yuu couldn’t really decipher. As expected?..

“You definitely look like a flora mainer,” Luan chuckled, explaining. “I’m afraid we’re not compatible in our types.”

“And you’re wrong,” Emery sighed, causing Luan to sulk a bit. “I said ‘which magic type you think you’re pretty much confident in’, not ‘you sure are confident’. We’ll see if it’s your best one, moreover, there’s not only one type. Not to mention you most definitely can combine wind and flora together, the one thing remaining is learning how to do it in a correct way. Now, let us continue.”

“Woah chill, you killjoy,” Luan giggled, knowing exactly well that Emery did hear him, but decided to let it slide for this one, continuing the lesson, while Luan earned a reassuring smile from Yuu.

“First of all, I see there are a lot of wind magic users,” Emery said, nodding to himself before turning around. “Or you think so. Next we’ve got fire users.”

Yuu heard a strange noise from Luan, seeing him knitting his brows together, wondering what this reaction could mean.

As Emery started making simple diagrams and patterns on the blackboard, Yuu was following him, writing down the notes while Luan started swinging his leg under the desk casually, though still listening, quite interested in the subject.

“All in all magic divides into two groups, the first one falling into four elemental types, which are: fire, water, flora, and wind. The other one is the void element, which can be divided into dark and light types of cosmic magic.”

Yuu listened carefully, making colorful well-structured notes.

“Woah, girl,” Luan bent over to peep into her notebook. “Your notes are so neat.”

“Thank you, it’s nothing,” she shrugged sheepishly.

“Mine are a mess,” he chuckled, showing her a notebook full of his scribbles done in not so neat handwriting, but surely unique.

“Does it really matter as long as you understand everything you wrote?”

“Right?? Thanks for saying that, Yuu.”

“Don’t mention it?..”

Yuu continued to listen to Emery from then on.

According to him, magic could be performed in forms of combining elemental types altogether, or mixing both elemental and void elements. Every magic type had its own properties and features, for instance, water magic had major healing properties, whilst fire was supposed to be mostly damaging.

Magic studies could be compared to any science — it was developing with time passing. Properties weren't too one-sided anymore, and even if main features remained, it didn’t mean there was no place for creativity and experiments.

As Emery has mentioned, it didn’t mean that flora and wind couldn’t work together. Depending on the magic spell casted and incantations said, they could perform wonders, just like a fire-water pair and others.

Yuu noticed that her magic didn’t really differ much. The only problem was, undoubtedly, the way she casted it. With Emery’s demonstration of a very simple wind spell, it appeared to be rough, quite raw and very concentrated. And most importantly, it was a wind swirl itself.

Even if she didn’t possess wind magic, she had other elemental type ones, but in any case her way of casting spells could create great problems, given she didn’t produce magic in its raw, bare form, but in butterflies.

Moreover, she lacked a void element. Her butterflies could do much more, but she also didn’t really have an idea of what a void element could do in the first place. Not to mention it was yet to be seen if her butterflies and the local magic were equal in power, or did something overpowered one another.

And the question was, how to convert her butterflies into raw magic forms.

“Beside elemental and void magic, there is also another type called Unique Magic.”

“Unique?..” Yuu mumbled to herself.

“Some of you might have already discovered your own, but others are yet to do that, if at all. If you haven’t, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad magician. Not to mention some of those can be terrifying to the point you’d rather not use it at all.”

Emery sighed, putting a chalk piece on the desk and wiping his hands with a towel before twisting a strand of hair around his finger.

“Unique magics aren’t based on elemental or void types. They can, but it’s not necessarily. The most difficult and terrifying ones have something to do with a human's condition or mind. Please be especially careful when dealing with those or possessing your own.”

Yuu shivered. Their magic could do something like that?

“They can’t be unambiguously assigned according to a certain system or properties. Unique magics can deal with mind, can deal high damage or, on the contrary, have healing properties, can serve as a conductor, and many many more…” Emery seemed to be deep in his thoughts. “For example, mine is…”

“Excuse me, teacher der Licht,” Yuu suddenly said, raising her hand.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Is it alright for you to reveal one's unique magic?”

“Good question,” he nodded. “You might keep your own magic secret to your classmates, but it is obligatory to let the school staff know. In case something happens, we can take appropriate action and help if needed. As for school staff, our unique magics are open for you to check. Go visit the teacher's room if you’re interested. We also reveal our magics during the lesson, like I was about to do a minute ago. Now, if I answered your question properly, I shall continue.”

“Thank you.”

“So, as I was saying, my unique magic is called ‘I See the Light’. It allows me to declassify one’s own unique magic, so I’ll know how it works and what the conditions are, and cancel it after pronouncing an incantation.”

Yuu gasped and shivered, eyes widening in shock. Unique magic could do even THAT? But did that mean—

“If you haven't discovered your unique magic yet, I won’t be able to see it.”

Alright, maybe there still was a way for Yuu to create an undercover for her own abilities.

“And now let’s get back to the magic properties. Oh and please, those who know their unique magic, come to me right after the lesson ends, I’ll register them.”

“Tch, pain in the ass,” Luan mumbled, scribbling something in his notebook, to which Yuu chuckled softly.

“It appears you already have one,” she whispered to him when he turned to her, smiling proudly.

“Yep,” he pressed a finger to his lips and winked at her. “But it’s a secret~”

“O-okay!” Yuu nodded.

She had her own secrets after all.

“Ugh… I’m… sorry… Are you alright?”

Yuu coughed, holding onto her magic wand and tightening a grip on it, watching a giant swirl of butterflies of different colors dissipating and covering her body, fluttering their wings with a genuine worry.

“Ha-ha, I’m okay, don’t worry about me.”

Yuu stood up slowly, her eyes meeting a majestic starry sky upon her, only glassy cover of the tower separating her and that magnificent scenery.

Almost fifty butterflies were flying around, their wings reflecting in a dim light of the clock tower, and Yuu sighed heavily. How many hours have passed since she returned here, practicing and trying to adjust her own magic to the local one? She tried converting butterflies into spells, but all in vain — butterflies would just dissolve or scatter, frightened away.

“Oh, little one, there was no need…” She said when an iridescent butterfly tapped on her hands, causing her to put the magic wand away and heal her fingers, lacking strength and grip.

“Ouch,” Yuu giggled when a pink butterfly sat on the tip of her nose. “Alright, alright, I’ll take a break! Stop lecturing me~”

Yuu snapped her fingers, and all of the butterflies dissolved midair with a wave of sparkles, and took a deep breath.

All her efforts went in vain, but to her fortune, practical magic lessons will start only next year, so she had time. Which was also a trivial aspect due to her leaving soon right after a princess or a prince will be rescued.

And there will be no more fascinating magic study. Again.

“It’s late but I wonder if the library is open…”

She took the jacket and threw it over her shoulders, then went out, meeting an exceptionally fresh and even slightly cold evening air, enjoying the way stars shone brightly in the anthracite night sky.

Entering the main building, Yuu questioned if it was okay in the first place — an insinuating darkness covered school halls, clatter of her heels echoing and ricochetting of the walls. Everyone seemed to be sleeping as they should. Yuu couldn’t really feel the flow of time, orienting on the way sun rays flickered in the morning and how cold the air became at night. The clock she saw on her way to the library announced that it was already one past midnight and hummed, wondering if she should try adjusting to a human's sleeping schedule.

Yuu opened the door to the library and peeked into it to make sure no one was there. Good, Aell seemed to be absent. She apologized to herself for intruding and went straight to the informational desk, checking out the section she needed.

She then went upstairs, passing by the shelves with many intriguing books on them, but Yuu, mentally fighting with her own curiosity, swallowed it and came right to the section she needed to study magic adjustment.

“That could be of help…” She mumbled to herself, choosing books. “And also that. And that also may… Hm?”

She felt a familiar presence somewhere at her left and turned, noticing none other than Neige sleeping at the desk, surrounded by piles of books scattered around his angelic features. Yuu parted her lips, not sure if it was right to come to him, but decided to take a moment to observe the situation.

But before she actually could do anything, she spotted another fairly familiar person approaching the table Neige was sleeping at.

“Sleeping in the library again, hm?”

The boy who she encountered at the clock tower on her first night here, the one she also saw here in the library the other day when Che’nya interrupted her!

Come to think of it, she couldn’t comprehend that during their first, uh, ‘meeting’, but the boy appeared to be really tall. His hair reflected in a moonlight, the blue glow of his eyes looking majestically enchanting.

He came closer to Neige, who still was sleeping, and bent over him, placing a bottle with something Yuu didn’t know what since the bottle was quite opaque, and smiled rather bitterly as he left.

Yuu found herself lost in thoughts again, pondering if it would be alright for her to approach Neige and observe him, or maybe to at least check what was in the bottle. She turned around, making certain Che’nya wasn’t here like last time he prevented her from coming closer to the boys she saw, and chuckled to herself.

“Just what am I thinking,” she smirked and shook her head.

No, it wasn’t right. He was sleeping, and despite him looking absolutely extraterrestrial and lovely, he was obviously tired. Yuu quietly made her way to a separate desk, placing the books on it and opening one of them, deciding to wait. She, unlike humans, had a lot of time.

Silence. There was nothing but silence.

Yuu broke the silence that hung in the air by flipping pages, and even the muffled sounds of nature outside the window fell silent humbly, giving her a feeling of complete concentration and attentiveness.

Luckily to her, there was a way to modify one’s magic properties so they would take on a different form and shape, but that also meant the powers of the wielderer would change. It doesn’t necessarily mean they would go weak—history has known cases where it would increase greatly—but to make it work required a lot of experience from a magician.

Yuu sighed, pressing fingers to her chin and tilting her head. Fairy Godmother has always been saying there’s no need for her to dwell on magic study that hard. Yuu knew some attacking and defensive spells to deal with evil powers in Princesses worlds, but nothing much further than that. The mere fact she discovered her magic was casted in a form of butterflies was rather terrifying at first since she thought it was forbidden and she’ll be punished for experimenting. Turned out it was alright but only if she didn’t push it, letting things remain as they were.

Yuu took another book and was about to dwell on it harder, but heard sweet little mutterings, raising her head and meeting Neige’s sleepy eyes.

“Ugh… Huh? Yuu?..”

She smiled at him, waiting for him to awake fully, and took the books, coming closer to him.

“Is it alright if I sit here?” She asked, receiving a nod in return. “Thank you!”

“Good evening. I must apologize, you saw me in such a pathetic state…”

“That is absolutely okay,” Yuu shook her head. “I’m rather worried you’re having a bad time sleeping… Are you alright?”

Neige saw a bottle placed on the table and opened it. Sweet and gentle black tea aroma lingered in the air, and Yuu caught the notes of chamomile in there.

Neige ripped off the small sticker Yuu didn’t notice that was stuck to the bottle. He giggled softly, sticking a sticker on one of the pages of his notebook, a ‘Cheer up! 🤗’ in a small handwriting was written down there. Yuu wondered if Neige knew the boy who brought the bottle.

“Please do not worry much,” Neige replied, taking a sip when Yuu looked at the books around him, all about math, history, alchemy, magic… What a vague choice. “Moreover, is it alright for you to be here that late? You should sleep well…”

“Thanks for your advice, but I’m alright.”

A brief silence hung between them. Neige opened one of the books, math one if Yuu wasn’t mistaken, and rubbed his eyes.

“Um…” She broke the silence, meeting Neige’s lovely but exceptionally drained gaze. “How's the rabbit, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah,” he smiled gently. “It’s doing quite well. Dwarfs have been looking after… Ah, you might not know them yet…”

“Dwarfs!” Yuu smiled at him brightly. “I’ve met Dominic, Grum, Hop and, hmmm, Shelpie, was it?”

“Oh, so you know them!” Neige giggled, his eyes filled with bright sparkles of genuine care and happiness all at once, his cheeks dusting with soft pink, and Yuu caught herself on a thought that the sound of him laughing warmly suited him like nothing else. “Actually, there are seven of them, ha-ha… They took care of the rabbit quite well while I, um, was busy.��

Yuu winced at the word ‘seven’. Seven dwarfs and sweet and kind Neige, possessing a lovely voice and a beauty she has never seen before… Huh. Somehow it didn’t sit right in her.

“Yuu?” He asked her worryingly.

“Sorry,” she shrugged. “I’m glad that the rabbit is okay. The dwarfs are surely thoughtful!”

“They definitely are,” he smiled.

Yuu frowned, still lost in her extremely ridiculous and absurd theory, but decided to try proving it in the most vague way possible.

“Do you perhaps live together? I’ve noticed you all have bright red brooches,” the way Neige didn’t lose his composure but was obviously not so comfortable with answering right away made Yuu to clench a piece of her clothes under the desk. She didn’t want to push him, but could he… could he really be a prince in distress she needed to rescue? If so… “I’m just living all alone in the clock tower since well… You see that my case is rather odd. That’s why I don’t really know about the dorms’ arrangement.”

“Oh!” Neige exclaimed, smiling away all the worry from before, which put Yuu on guard. He surely was genuine and cheerful, but now it was more suspicious and alarming than just carrying an image of an always happy person. “Right, you must be confused. Yes… We live together in one room. Though I must mention our case is rather odd, just like yours. It just… happened to be like that.”

“Is that so…”

The theory of Neige resembling Snow White herself started to sound not so preposterous as it was. Yuu decided she needed solid confirmation. She quietly snapped her fingers, and a pink butterfly appeared. Yuu pointed with her finger at the window, sending a butterfly there. A tingling feeling in her stomach made her frown with worry, but she proceeded to distract Neige.

“Are you perhaps a second-year student? Dwarfs said they’re all seventeen years old,” Yuu grinned.

“I am 17, too,” he answered gently. “What about you?”

“Oh, I am a first-year. As for my age…”

Yuu swallowed her worry when a butterfly flew over to their table. Neige gasped and stretched out a finger, welcoming the butterfly which danced around him. Yuu was sure she didn’t tell the butterfly that it must fly straight to Neige. It’s as if he was spellbinding every nature creature around himself…

Just like Snow White did.

“What a curious color,” Neige whispered. “I’ve never seen a butterfly like that.”

“Curious indeed…”

A fae couldn’t lie. Yuu couldn’t too, deciding it would be for the best to not comment on that. Moreover, she confirmed her theory, looking straight at Neige and observing his features. Pitch-black hair, eyes shimmering like gold, lips red as blood…

There was no denying.

“It’s already late,” Yuu said suddenly, gathering the books. “I should get going. I also suggest you go to sleep, Neige. Staying so late is bad for your health.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, seeing the butterfly flying away to the window and watching it with a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. “But I must stay a little longer. Don’t worry, I’ll go back soon.”

“As you say… Well then, see you later.”

“Good night, Yuu.”

She hurried away out of the main building and met the butterfly she sent near the garden.

“He’s related to Snow White,” she dropped, a genuine worry plastered on her face. “I don’t know in which terms, but he definitely is.”

The butterfly fluttered its wings rapidly, agreeing with Yuu.

And if he resembled Snow White, then it meant he was the Prince she needed to rescue in order to return back home and do her duty as a Princesses rescuer.

It will be a long sleepless night full of connecting the facts she had and making a plan to help him.

★﹒﹒NOTES ✧˖ 小孩子 (xiaohaizi) — little children. ✧˖ Oh faila maira súrë, á ortëa ni ana the orwa fanyarë — “Oh generous splendid wind, rise me to the high sky”. I genuinely hope I understand Quenya grammar right— ✧˖ As I've promised, here's some explanations about word formation used in RSA dorm names! — Pandora Charm (actually we just came up with that and called it a day lmao) — Kifurijua : Royal — kifalme (Swahili) Pride — Kiburi (Swahili) Sun — Jua (Swahili) — Merheronelle : Sea — Mer (French) Hero — Hero (English) Nelle — Just an addition — Huriirada : Freedom — Huriya (Arabic) Will — ‘Iirada (Arabic) — Edelwiese : Gems — Edelsteine (German) Meadow — Wiese (German) — Dýnamieisos : Power — Dýnami (Greek) Heaven — Parádeisos (Greek) — Florevel : To Bloom — Florere (Latin) Vel — Just an addition. — Sidhery : Elf — Sid (Irish) Ery — An ending from the word ‘Fairy’ in English.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #rsa #rsa x reader #chenya #artemiy artemiyevich pinker #neige leblanche #twst x yuu

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