#part 3 has nothing to do with its prompt but yolo

[crownofwishes]

walking the wire | emmastan.

Four times emmastan were idiots, and a fifth time they were idiots | for @senmitsuji happy really, really, really late birthday loser, have 3000 words of these losers to celebrate it. 

i.   ❝ do you feel the same when I'm away from you? do you know the line that I'd walk for you? ❞

Rabastan looped his arm around Emma’s waist, pulling her down into his lap. Despite her protests ( something about wanting another drink -- rabastan wasn’t listening ), she didn’t resist, choosing instead to curl into him with a pout and mild complaining. He much preferred Emma here to Emma all the way over at Rodolphus’ bar. Rabastan was fairly sure Rodolphus probably preferred Emma here rather than there, too. Emma, despite her pout, preferred his lap to a bar stool -- this much he knew for certain.

“You can have my drink,” he soothed, tugging playfully on the ends of her hair until she looked at him. His other hand stayed firmly on her hip.

“Or,” she said, shifting so she could rest her head on his shoulder. “I could also go and get my own.”

He hummed in response, lips grazing her ear. “Now, where's the fun in that?”

“That’s not the point. What --,” the rest of Emma’s sentence was doomed to remain unsaid as Rabastan’s fingers teased below the waistline of her jeans, not stopping in their merciless pursuit to make Emma squirm.

They were succeeding.

“Arse,” she hissed.

Rabastan merely laughed, pressing a kiss to a sensitive spot on her neck. Emma inhaled sharply. He relished in the effect he was having on her, how he could make her breathing change so easily, make her forget everything but him, and, too, the effect she had on him — the tightening of his trousers was obvious enough. Neither paid any heed to the patrons of the bar — most of whom were part of Rabastan’s fight club and had long ago gotten used to the public antics of Emma and Rabastan. With the hand not teasing her inner thigh, Rabastan shifted Emma so she was facing him, smirked, but complied when she leaned in to kiss him.

“Still wish you’d gotten that drink?”

ii. ❝ you make me laugh until i die, can you think of any better way to choke? ❞

If Emma had to pick one place in the entire world to be her favourite, it would be this roof. Aside from various permanent paint stains and scratches they’d etched into it over the years, there was nothing overly special about it. It wasn’t an artistic masterpiece like the bars of Rodolphus’s that Emma and Rabastan had decorated together, nor was it furnished to the height of luxury like Emma’s apartment. It was just a roof. But it was their roof. Untouched by anyone but them. Many a storm had been weathered by the two of them on this roof, with Emma’s paints and Rabastan’s cigarettes there to see them through. It wasn't special, but it was sacred, and that was all that mattered.

It was moments like now that made it matter.

Emma inhaled, feeling the warmth of the smoke from the cigarette rush down her throat and curl around her lungs. Emma wasn't particularly fond of the act itself ( even now, after so many years of doing it, the sensation burned — it was like swallowing hot ash ) but she loved the aesthetics of softly exhaling the smoke, watching it leave her mouth like a sinuous cloud, delighted by the formation of smoke rings.

Today, Emma leaned back on her hands, blowing the cloud to the sky, content to watch it linger in the brisk air before fading away into nothing. Rabastan, however, had other ideas. Before the smoke could dissipate completely, he blew on it gently, using his wand to rearrange its shape.

“You know,” Emma said, tilting her head this way and that as she considered Rabastan’s artwork, “from the right angle that almost looks like your brother — see? there’s the unamused eyebrows, the deadpan stare, the impossibly sharp cheekbones are there. I swear it’s like he’s glaring at us. Can you see it?”

Rabastan burst into laughter. 

The sound was warmer than any cigarette.

Emma took another drag, this time allowing the smoke to swirl in her mouth rather than inhaling it. When she blew it out, it was a near perfect ring. She turned to Rabastan, her self satisfaction obvious in her grin.

“I think that was my best ring yet — definitely better than yours, anyway.”

“That a challenge, Vanity?”

She shrugged. “It might be.”

“You need to up your game if you think you’re any match for a master like myself.”

Rabastan, never one to resist a challenge with Emma, reached up from where he was lying with his head in her lap and took the cigarette from her, adding his own rings to the collection. 

“There,” he said, shooting her a smug look. Emma rolled her eyes. “All perfect.”

“They look a bit sad, don't you think?” She gestured vaguely at the rings. Emma’s had half dissipated in the wind, leaving her oddly misshapen smoke shapes looking even sadder in comparison to Rabastan’s fully formed concentric circles. “All grey and fading amd miserable.”

Rabastan hummed in agreement. They did look rather plain. Well, Emma’s did. With a flick of his wand, Rabastan changed the colour of the smoke, each ring a different, vibrant colour against the smoky grey backdrop of London’s dusk.

Grinning, he shot Emma another smug look as he moved one of the rings to sit over the fading cloud they had named Rodolphus, making it hover like a halo, or a crown.

Now it was Emma’s turn to burst into laughter.

“I don't think he suits a pink halo — seems too bright. Though, a halo of devil horns. Now that he could pull off.”

Rabastan chuckled, changing the ring’s’ colour to black.

“Better?”

“Much. Seems more fitting, don’t you think?”

Rabastan moved the golden ring to hover over Emma’s head. “Every queen needs a crown, no?”

“True. Not every queen needs a king, but,” she said, moving one of the others over Rabastan’s head, “I’ll make an exception for you.”

Both of them dissolved into laughter again, the smoke vanishing into the sky but neither of them cared much about the smoke. There was nothing special about this roof, but when they were on it together, there was no better place in the world.

iii. ❝ if you ever wanna join me, baby, i’ll be dancing in the dark. ❞

“I’ll have to check my schedule, being an international Quidditch star keeps me busy, not to mention the modelling.” It wasn’t really a lie -- technically she didn’t model in any official capacity, but modelling for Rabastan’s portraits ( sans clothes ) counted, right? Emma flashed the boy a coy smile. It wasn’t as if he was going to question her anyway, not when he was looking at her with that smug expression boys got when they thought they had an easy catch. It was always so funny to wipe it off their faces later. “But I’m sure I can make time for someone as pretty as you.”

Out of the corner of Emma’s eye, she could see money slyly exchanging hands, heads bent together as they hotly debated the outcome of this exchange. 

The seasoned fighters of Rabastan’s club had long ago given up participating in these sorts of exchanges -- they’d watch this story play out too many times to question the ending. It was less about what the ending was, and more about when it would occur. Betting on it grew tiring The newer members had far more enthusiasm, particularly those few who’d been the poor sod on the receiving end of Emma’s attention upon their arrival. There was a feline amusement in Emma’s gaze as it dropped from the bloke’s eyes to assess the rest of his physique. One that would put most people on their guard. 

It wasn’t his fault, really, that he didn’t notice. No one had bothered to tell him, after all. It was only his first day in the club, he saw a pretty girl and thought he might want her attention. How was he to know that Emma’s flirting like this meant trouble? He’d only just met her, after all. Hadn’t even known her name. Really, it wasn’t his fault at all. 

He’d just called her gorgeous and likely would’ve asked for a phone number had an arm not come out of nowhere and snaked over Emma’s shoulders, tugging her into the side of Rabastan Lestrange -- owner and operator of the fight club. 

“I see you’ve met my best girl,” he said casually, flashing the new recruit a grin.

No, it definitely was not his fault at all.

“He was just complimenting my exceptionally good looks.” Emma tilted her head up to face him, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Aren’t you lucky to have such a stunning best friend?”

Rabastan, of course, agreed immediately. 

More money changed hands, and Emma knew some of them had been betting on how long it would take for Rabastan to show up. They weren’t dating -- no one really knew what they were, actually -- but the specifics hardly mattered. Dating or not, Emma was Rabastan’s and Rabastan was Emma’s -- he’d only announced to the world ( oftentimes drunkenly ) that he was going to marry her someday about a hundred times. If you hit on Emma in the club, Rabastan would show up, and if you hit on Rabastan, Emma would show up. It was fact, everyone knew this. Except, of course, the poor new bloke. 

Understanding hit, eyes flicking back and forth between Emma, Rabastan ( his sort of boss ), and the arm Rabastan had over Emma’s shoulder, to the way his fingers played with the ends of her hair, how she leaned into the embrace like it was the most comfortable place in the world. The smugly self satisfied grin changed slackened, his mouth falling open in a small ‘o’. That was the part Emma delighted in, the part where he realised he was never going to get that date, where he never stood a chance. 

It really, really, wasn’t his fault. 

iv. ❝ you’re my horizon, you’ll always paint my sky. ❞

“Lie still,” Emma chided as Rabastan strained his neck to see what she was painting. “You might think your abs are solid as a rock, but unlike a rock, they do actually move when you move your head and mess up my painting.”

“It would help if I knew what you were doing,” he grumbled but obliged nevertheless, allowing her hand to push him back down. Emma tucked the paint brush between her teeth, rolling her eyes at his impatience. She wiped off a bit of smudged paint with her thumb before leaning back to admire her creation. “Are you painting a portrait of yourself again?”

Emma flicked paint on his face.

“That was a masterpiece -- naturally, it was my face -- but no. Be patient, I’m almost done.”

Her favourite thing to paint on him, when she got the opportunity to do so, was various creative versions of ‘I love Emma Vanity’. Because, well, who didn’t love her? She experimented with font styles and paint types, sometimes using a brush and sometimes just using her fingers. One time, she’d tried to use her foot but the results had been messy. Partially because painting a person’s back with your toes was harder than anticipated, and partially because Rabastan couldn’t stop laughing. It didn’t take long for the painting to be forgotten and the paint used for more creative purposes.

Actually, a lot of their painting sessions ended up like that these days. 

 Whatever she painted, though, he always wore it with pride.

This time she wanted to try something a bit different. It was neither ‘I love Emma Vanity’ nor, nor her face -- shocking, she knew -- nor some other artful image she liked to paint from time to time. This time, she wanted to do something a little more personal. Using their matching tattoos -- ‘igni’ on his wrist, ‘ferroque’ on hers, meaning with fire and iron -- as inspiration, Emma put the words together on his back. The words were encased in a flame, a vibrant dark blue at the base to be her iron which blended into a fervent red at the top to be his fire. The flame started at the small of his back, going all the way up to spill over his shoulders. Emma shifted more comfortably on her perch on Rabastan’s hips, leaning over to wipe away a smudge from the thick, block lettering of ‘igni’. ‘Ferroque’ she’d done in cursive, red to stand out against the inky blue backdrop.

For good measure, while she had her paints out, Emma added “I <3 Emma” down the arm not covered in tattoos. Rabastan was sure to appreciate it.

“There,” she announced triumphantly. This was one of her better works. “It’s done.” 

This was her favourite part of the whole process, arrogant as it seemed. Watching for the reaction, seeing the emotion colour their face whether it was good bad or something else entirely. Especially Rabastan’s. Rabastan did not disappoint -- when it came to Emma, he wasn’t in the disappointing business. 

He stood up slowly, giving Emma enough time to slide off of him somewhat gracefully. The last time he’d accidentally unceremoniously made Emma fall did not end well for him. Rabastan turned to the mirror, using his reflection to see the painting on his back, and his breath caught. 

"You,” he said, turning slowly to face her, something like awe on his face, “are a bloody masterpiece.”

Emma inclined her head, an amused but pleased smile playing on her lips as she teased, 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

v. ❝ i know when you’re around because i know the sound of your heart. ❞

"It’s bloody freezing,” Emma crumbled by way of explanation as she burrowed into Rabastan’s side. She was supposed to be mad at him for some ridiculous incident from earlier that she’s half forgotten, but, well, there were some things were worth more than her pride. Like being warm.

Rabastan chuckled. He wrapped his arms around her obligingly and tucked her head under his chin. Emma wouldn’t put it past him to have orchestrated this entire situation to stop her being mad at him. He was devious like that. Devious enough to try and feeze her to death knowing, knowing she would inevitably come to him. 

Prick. 

But, well, Emma had other priorities at the moment then not playing into his ridiculous schemes. Like being warm. 

Besides, surely it was better to go to him now than for her body to turn traitor in the night and she wakes unexpectedly in his arms?

At least now she could snuggle while retaining a shred of her dignity. And, of course, she was warm. And comfortable. So very comfortable. Especially when his fingers started threading through her hair in that very way he knew she loved and his other hand soothingly trailed her arm. Relaxing into him was pure instinct. Snuggling deeper was habit. It did not mean she had forgiven him. At all. 

“Arse.”

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear over the sound of you falling asleep in my arms.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

His breath was so warm on her ear and his finges were so soft in her hair and his voice was that perfect pitch she hated how she didn’t want him to stop tracing patterns on the bare skin of her arm. Shred of dignity indeed. Emma was on the verge of losing even that -- if she hadn’t lost it already. 

“Are you?”

The muffled “yes” was somewhat undermined by the fact that Emma had wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. He hummed and the sound reberverated through his chest. Why did that have to feel so nice? 

"I don’t believe you.”

“I know you did this on purpose.”

“Did what? Made you cuddle me?”

“Made me forget I’m mad at you.”

Rabastan laughed again, delightfully amused. It made Emma simultaneously want to kiss him and kill him. 

"How devious of me. Pray tell, how did I manage something so terribly wicked?”

“I take it back, I am definitely still mad at you.”

Rabastan nudged her back, tugging playfully on her hair so she had to look at him. Emma was acutely aware of the cool touch of his fingers against the bare skin of her waist; of how, when he angled his head down, his lips were barely a hair’s breadth away from hers. 

“I still don’t believe you.”

Emma’s breath hitched as his hand moved higher. “I am.”

His lips brushed her ear. “Liar.”

This was just unfair on so many levels.

She should’ve just stuck with ignoring him.

But then her hand was in his hair, pulling his face down to hers so he would finally stop talking and it was far too late for regrets. Rabastan didn’t seem to have a problem with this turn of events. 

Later, Emma would blame the liquor. Nevermind that she’d last drank several hours before she ever tilted her head up to murmur you’re my favourite against his jaw. When that failed, as it was doomed to, she would blame the sound of his heart beating a rhythm in chest, soft and steady as she lay her head on it; how he kissed the top of her head and it felt like a whispered declaration; her traitorous mouth moving before she’d had a chance to think things through.

When his gaze flicked down to hers, fond and surprised, but pleased with a sparkle of mischief, she’d blame that for her answering smile -- softly content and achingly genuine, disgustingly affectionate. Rabastan’s hand stroked her hair and the sparkle of mischief became a smirk and lips hovering teasingly just above hers and the words, “I knew you weren’t mad at me.”

She was going to smack him, but, well,  later. She had other piorities right now, like ensuring the only other thing he’d be saying for the rest of the night was her name.

[loyalflutist]

Fusion (F!Byleth x Dorothea)

Challenge: Bylethea Week 2019 (Twitter) Day 3: Fusion

A/N: I could’ve gone for the other easier prompt, but yolo, I wanted to take a spin on this unique one! Also, I seem to be writing more and more references for Edelgard x Ingrid for some reason... 

---

“Um, Dorothea, do you know where the professor went?”

“…”

“Dorothea?”

“She probably went to see Lady Rhea, Hubie.”

“Oh, okay then. Guess I’ll ask her later.”

“Can I relay the message for you?”

“Hm… just let her know that I’m looking for her.”

“…”

Dorothea, who had waved farewell to Hubert, felt an invisible tug pull upon her arm. A couple of steps were taken to the nearest bookshelves. Then, the opera singer reached out towards the thick covers, her fingertips brushing upon the spines. She frowned and harshly whispered,

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Then, from the same mouth, she said, “I’m looking for the solution.”

Although she was alone in the library, if anyone were to catch sight of her, they would have mistaken her as being mental. Just who in their right mind would speak to themselves? It didn’t help that Dorothea’s features would switch between expressionless and annoyance every ten seconds. She had spooked Bernadetta already by accident this morning. She didn’t want a repeat of it again with someone else. She wasn’t in the mood to explain their predicament either… if anyone would believe in them, that is. The student loudly sighed and lowered her head, her hand acting on its own accord.

“I still can’t believe this isn’t a dream, professor.”

“…”

This morning was rather eventful. The two females yesterday shared a late-night tea session. Since they were already in a relationship, both Byleth and Dorothea shared sweet romantic words to each other (though awkward) and cuddled in bed. When it had gotten too dark, the two parted ways, with Byleth taking her leave from Dorothea’s bedroom. By the time they woke up, Dorothea found herself staring in unfamiliar territory.

She was in Byleth’s room. A glimpse around told her that Byleth was nowhere to be found. The young lady had panicked as she had no recollection of what led her to the professor’s private quarter. It didn’t help that the instant she slammed open the door, Edelgard was in the midst of knocking on the wooden barrier. Seeing her classmate dressed in nothing more than undergarments invited a full red makeover of the noble’s face. Steam wafted from the top of her head as Edelgard excused herself from the premise.

It didn’t take long for Dorothea to figure out what sort of unintentional message was conveyed… and she didn’t appreciate it.

“Edie gave me these strange looks, you know!”

“It’s not my fault that I’m stuck inside of your body now.”

The opera singer shrugged in conjunction with Byleth’s thoughts. True enough, Dorothea was not only forced to deal with the flustered Edelgard whenever they made eye contact, she nearly got a heart attack when her mouth started moving on its own. It took a solid five minutes for Dorothea to believe in Byleth’s words, originally thinking she was possessed by a ghost.

“Ugh, and you saw everything when I had to get dressed!”

“Um… this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked though.”

“T-That’s—” A deep blush tainted her cheeks. “What are you trying to say?!”

“I still don’t understand what’s the embarrassment. We’ve seen each other naked when we were—”

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” She slapped over her own mouth, muffling Byleth. When her girlfriend stopped trying to talk, she removed her hand and quickly added, “That’s different! You really need to work on your social skills, you know.”

“People tell me that all the time.”

“And I think you should listen to them.”

“Father doesn’t have a problem though.”

“Captain Jeralt is… different.”

Dorothea shook her head and rubbed her temple. This is such a hassle. As much as she loves her teacher, this was inconvenient for the two members, especially when it came to more… sensitive and private matters. Then, she felt her hand slid down to her chin, cupping it. A faint hum slipped past her lips. Dorothea watched her control slip out of her reign as Byleth began to take their leave from the library. Their search— or rather, Byleth’s search, was fruitless. Not a single booklet contained the information they needed about their definition of bodily fusion.

“Oh, Dorothea, I want to talk to you.”

Byleth stared at the person speaking to Dorothea right outside of the hallways. She retracted her hand and observed the speaker through her girlfriend’s vision. It was a male guard. Though unlike the Gatekeeper that the professor has come to know and like, this one was a little rough on the edge.

“You still haven’t responded about the date.”

Her eyes widen. Okay, maybe he was more than rough around the edge. Byleth could feel Dorothea bubble from within her chest in order to regain control of her own body. Yet she didn’t allow it. There was a powerful force that pressed the host away from the panel. Dorothea resisted the temptation to exclaim. It’s unfortunate that their fusion didn’t allow the transmission of thoughts between each other. Though on second thought… It might be for the best. There are some things Dorothea prefers Byleth not to know and vice versa.

Dorothea was forced to remain silent as Byleth… crossed her arms. She almost wanted to slap herself on the forehead as the student rarely, if ever, would do so. It wasn’t part of her routine! Regardless, this professor’s habit went unnoticed as the guard approached them. Byleth narrowed her eyes. He was taller than them.

“I hope you understand that I’m already in a relationship.”

“With who?”

“Do I need to tell you?”

He clicked his tongue. Despite the blunt answers, his persistence stayed. The young man took another step forward, closing their distance to an uncomfortable degree. Dorothea nearly gagged when she felt his breath tickle her nose.

“Actually, you don’t need to. However, it wouldn’t hurt to go out with me just this once, right? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“SHE would mind.”

“Oh…” Byleth’s glare didn’t scare him away. The response she provided had fueled his next reply, making him sound even worse than he already did from the beginning. “She wouldn’t know how a man treats his lady. Let me teach you, yeah?”

Dorothea nearly took control of her body by sheer instinct when his hand snaked around her waist. From the distant, it would appear as though he was ready to meet their bodies together, his lips yearning to touch for hers.

“Can you stop!?” the student vocalized her objection. “Leave me alone!”

That didn’t budge him. Byleth widens her eyes and felt… a rush of emotions she has rarely felt: fear.

It’s clear that there was no consent between the two. Not that it lasted long anyway. Dorothea quickly took partial control and slapped him. But her ownership did not last long, the older female taking it away like previously.

Byleth hadn’t knocked his hand away. She kneed him. Hard. The guard instantly pressed against his abdomen and felt the wind knocked out of him. She didn’t let up, her elbow came crashing down onto his back. This forced him down onto the ground with a loud slam. As he groaned, the professor stared at him. If looks could kill, she would have murdered him ten times over.

“Since you pose a danger to her, I’m going to make sure you’re removed from the monastery.”

“H-Her?”

She didn’t answer. Byleth turned her back towards him and, to their luck, spotted Caspar and Ferdinand. One flick of her wrist was all it took to bring them over.

“Take care of him,” she mumbled and walked away. “I don’t want to see him ever again. Make sure he stays away from everyone.”

Ferdinand and Caspar had plenty of questions for Dorothea. Just what happened? However, the youngsters had their hands full with pulling the man up. Though the scenario was unclear, what was clear for sure were the outcomes. They know their comrade enough to heed her words. After all, Dorothea would never lie when determining how bad an individual is. She was never off the mark either.

“Byleth…”

“…”

Byleth had stepped back from the wheel and allowed Dorothea to regain full motor skills with her own body. The songstress curled and uncurled her fingers. She called out to her girlfriend again once they were in the safety of Dorothea’s bedroom.

“Byleth…?”

“…”

“…”

The brown-haired sat on the edge of her mattress when Byleth finally spoke up, alas in a small whisper.

“That man is disgusting.”

“I know, right?”

“I can’t believe you deal with this every day.”

“It’s normal.”

“Normal? I don’t want it to be normal.” She felt her grip ball into a tight fist. Oddly, her eyes became watery, Dorothea feeling her heartache from Byleth. “I’ve never felt so angry.”

“I could tell.”

“I… I don’t want this to happen to you anymore.”

“I would love that.”

Just because it's happened so many times doesn't mean she's gotten used to it. There is no "getting used to it" anyway. This sort of situation always invites disasters and trauma. History of men and women that proposed and attempted nonconsensual activities back during her opera era were always in for a beating. Yet that fear never went away. If she was unable to protect herself or if Byleth wasn't present... What would happen? Dorothea shook those hypothetical scenes off, her attention fully set on Byleth. This situation wasn't only affecting Dorothea.

Byleth bit the bottom of her lip.

“Just… why? Why would they do that to you?”

“My dear Byleth, oh, how much I want to hug you right now.”

Dorothea wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, even more tears falling from her eyes. Byleth was always publicly known as the Ashen Demon. Not a lick of emotions would be expressed. To be frank, it had worried everyone in the monastery. Some students and staff hardly paid attention to this part of the professor. Others, especially Edelgard, Mercedes, Raphael, and Dorothea, were concerned about it. They didn’t know if Byleth was repressing them or if she was actually THAT emotionless.

Turns out moments like this proved otherwise. Behind closed doors, Byleth would cry to herself, having no one other than her father to consult. Sometimes her father wasn’t even helpful, Jeralt either out of the monastery or his perspective was unhelpful for the situation. Dorothea felt her chest ache again, its impact doubled as she resisted the temptation to hug herself.

It was a mixed reaction as control wildly shifted back and forth. Comforting Byleth made her look silly on the outside. She was wiping her own tears and giving the occasional pat on the arm. Soft hushes ushered the poor adult to her normal state, her silent cries coming to a cessation.

“I’m sorry to show you that side of me," Byleth finally voiced, though it somewhat cracked. "I shouldn’t act this way.”

“Don’t be so uptight, professor,” Dorothea smiled. “I’m always here for you… just like you do for me.”

“Mhm…”

The rest of the day was spent in leisure within Dorothea’s bedroom. Since Byleth was physically absent, the Black Eagle’s lectures were canceled for today. It was safe to say that Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn were desperately calling for a search party to find the teacher. All three house leaders were forced to partake in the mission themselves. As for the other students, they were responsible for keeping their eyes peeled on campus.

Nightfall descend upon the land… and morning occurred before the two. The search results were futile. Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude returned exhausted after staying up all night with the soldiers and scouts. Jeralt himself was a bit frazzled for having lost his daughter. All participants, excluding Edelgard, hurried back to their dormitory for their long-desired sleep. (Thank goodness it’s the weekends too.)

Dorothea rose up from the bed, rubbing both her eyes. She yawned and dropped her hand on top of Byleth’s bareback. The songstress turned to the naked professor and— Wait a minute… Whatever drowsiness the student was inflicted with vanished without a trace. Dorothea blinked a few times at the sight of her sleeping instructor.

“…”

She leaned forward to get a closer look.

“Zzz…”

“Oh my gosh, we’re separated!”

Jolly, this is wonderful! This couldn’t be a dream, right?! The opera singer pinched her own cheeks, leapt off from bed, and ran to the bright windows. It was real alright, and the outcome was exactly what she wanted. Questions about the abrupt fusion from yesterday lingered in her mind. Yet those could be searched for later. Right now, she has to wake up Byleth and tell her about the good news!

Dorothea heard a few knocks on the door. Her ecstatic state rendered her capability to critically think to a lesser degree than normal. The young lady opened up the door for their guest.

There stood Edelgard… and Edelgard’s features were… completely red. Unlike yesterday, she rooted herself by the entranceway and coughed into her fist.

“D-Dorothea… I… um… wow, I’m surprised you’re not cold in those undergarments.”

“Under— Oh… Yeah, I don’t sleep with my clothes on.”

“…Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and let you know that we have yet to find the professor— !!!”

The redness that discolored her friend’s face darkened in its shades. Edelgard lost her ability to speak. Dorothea wasn’t sure what the cause was until she glanced over her shoulder.

“Is there something you need?” Byleth asked, her figure going full commando from behind the songstress, blanket just covering her nether region. “I’m sorry I was out of commission yesterday.”

“DOROTHEA…………………..”

‘ Oh goodness… I have a feeling I know where this is going… ‘

“Don’t tell me that the reason our professor went missing was that you were having… sex with her?”

‘ GOD DANG IT. ‘

Dorothea viciously shook her had. “N-NO! W-W-What kind of conclusion— Why— How did you—”

“I mean…” Edelgard motioned to the naked ex-mercenary. “She doesn’t have clothes on… and you don’t have most of yours on either… like yesterday… in her room…”

“#$@&%!!!"

"I know you both partake in these nightly activities... as Hubert and Ferdinand do... but I've never seen the professor out the entire day. You... didn't do her THAT hard, did you?"

"%#$@!!!!!!”

Meanwhile, Byleth tilted her head from behind, unaware of where the conversation was leaning towards. Common sense didn't apply to the warrior. If she casually joked about "night crawling" to Dorothea... there are already problems. Dorothea got down on all four and frantically tried to explain their situation to their house leader.

Least the fusion issue was over with. Sothis shortly stopped by to tell Byleth she accidentally screwed up their inner dynamics and, well, just happened to transcend Byleth into spirit form and inhabit Dorothea’s body. The short female earned a bop on the head from the professor. A very strong one.

As for Edelgard… Dorothea and Byleth found themselves in an awkward relationship with her. Edelgard can’t seem to see them in the eyes anymore…

"Is something the matter?" Ingrid questioned her girlfriend during lunchtime. The two sat right outside of the Mess Hall, their private meals shared with one another. As she took a bite from a slab of meat, the knight lightly elbowed the noble. "Did you both get into a fight?"

"...hardcore..."

"Excuse me?"

"...sex."

"El, just what is going through your mind?"

[nottellingu]

d bees n d birds

JILY CHALLENGE | @nottellingu vs @siriuslysnuffles   social media au + “lily takes a photo of a pretty boy in lectures and sends it to her friend remus who promptly freaks out bc “omG that’s my roommate?? this is bloody brilliant” marauder meddling ensues”

(a brill prompt w lots of potential that i murdered but yay i finally finished)  thanks @jilychallenge

1.1k

Remus Lupin to Lily Evans: I can’t come to the health lecture.  I'm sick.

Lily Evans: whaaaaaaat?!?!?!

Lily Evans: but remus

Lily Evans: they are going to talk bout d bees n d birds

Lily Evans: the BIRDS and the BEES

Lily Evans: STOP LEAVING ME ON READ REMUS JOHN LUPIN!!!!!

Lily Evans: i hate you

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James Potter sent a photo to Sirius Black

James Potter: loml just sat down next to me in health

Sirius Black: is dat evans?

James Potter: u kno dis goddess

Sirius Black: way outta ur league mate

James Potter: rude

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Lily Evans sent a photo Remus Lupin

Lily Evans: nvm i forgive you

Lily Evans: mr.tdh sat next to me instead

Remus Lupin: mr.tdh?

Lily Evans: mr. tall dark handsome

Remus Lupin: oh

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Sirius Black sent a screenshot to 3 musketeers + pete

Sirius Black: prongsie has a crush on lily evans

Peter Pettigrew: lol

James Potter: does pvt chat mean nothing to u

Sirius Black: #yolo

James Potter: yolo cant b ur response to everything

Sirius Black: #yolo

Sirius Black changed the group name to #yolo

James Potter: blocked

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Remus Lupin sent a screenshot to Sirius Black

Remus Lupin: Can you believe it?

Sirius Black: otp

Remus Lupin: I should never have told you about that.

Sirius Black: we have 2 do sthing

Remus Lupin: Sirius no.

Sirius Black: 2 l8

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Sirius Black created Operation Lames

Sirius Black added Remus Lupin to Operation Lames

Sirius Black added Peter Pettigrew to Operation Lames

Sirius Black added Marlene McKinnon to Operation Lames

Sirius Black added Dorcas Meadowes to Operation Lames

Sirius Black  added Alice Fortescue to Operation Lames

Sirius Black sent a screenshot to Operation Lames

Sirius Black: At 10:23 am James Fleamont Potter sent the above message to a handsome Mr. Sirius Orion Black.

Sirius Black forwarded  a screenshot to Operation Lames

Sirius Black: At 10:34 am Lily idk-her-middle-name Evans  sent the above message to Remus John Lupin.  

Sirius Black: By the power vested in me by Cupid I appoint you all junoir matchmakers.

Sirius Black: With me as senior matchmaker, it is our responsibility to bring these two lost souls together.

Sirius Black: Let's  make magic happen,  people!

Alice Fortescue: omg this is sooo cute!!!

Peter Pettigrew: grool!

Marlene McKinnon: wat shud we do?

Dorcas Meadowes: lilys mid name is jane.

Remus Lupin: For this you can have perfect grammar?

Sirius Black: fuk u moony its tru luv

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Sirius Black (@siriuslyblanc) tweeted: all u losers are invited to a party chez moi. Esp @gunsnlilies and @jpotter_unofficial

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Marlene McKinnon to Operation Lames: seriously? that was ur plan?

Sirius Black: I’m always sirius

Dorcas Meadowes removed Sirius Black from Operation Lames

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Sirius Black to Peter Pettigrew: pete

Sirius Black: pete

Sirius Black: pete

Sirius Black: peter

Sirius Black: PETER

Sirius Black: PETER PETTIGREW!!!!

Peter Pettigrew: WHag?!?!

Sirius Black: add me back to op lames

Peter Pettigrew: u woke me up from my nap for THAt

Sirius Black: pls

.

Peter Pettigrew added Sirius Black to Operation Lames

Sirius Black: miss me?  ;)

Dorcas Meadowes removed Peter Pettigrew from Operation Lames

Dorcas Meadowes removed Sirius Black from Operation Lames

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Peter Pettigrew to Sirius Black: i hate u

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Sirius Black to Remus Lupin: remus

Remus Lupin: No.

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James Potter (@jpotter_unofficial) tweeted: @siriuslyblanc i live with you??? y do i get a special invite???

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Sirius Black (@siriuslyblanc) tweeted: because i love u

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Lily Evans (@gunsnlilies) tweeted: @siriuslyblanc does that mean you love me too?

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Sirius Black (@siriuslyblanc) tweeted: @gunsnlilies nah i think ur a swot so u got a speical invite

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James Potter to Sirius Black: did u really invite lily evans?

Sirius Black: yea

James Potter: idk if i shud kiss you or kick you

Sirius Black: save d smooches 4 evans

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Lily Evans (@gunsnlilies) tweeted: @siriuslyblanc you spelled ‘special’ wrong

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Lily Evans to Sirius Black: who is @jp_unofficial?

Sirius Black: jim iams

Lily Evans: ????

Sirius Black: prongs

Lily Evans: ??????

Sirius Black: james

Lily Evans: ????????

Sirius Black: james potter

Lily Evans: ?????????????

Sirius Black sent a photo to Lily Evans

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Lily Evans to Remus Lupin: et tu

Remus Lupin: What did I do?

Lily Evans: idk but

Lily Evans: sirius sent me and james potter a special invite

Lily Evans: who is the same guy i texted you a photo of this morning

Lily Evans: according to insta you are all part of some clique

Lily Evans: you are getting coal for christmas

Remus Lupin: As long as I get  chocolate for Easter

Lily Evans: im not that cruel

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Lily Evans to Sirius Black: my mum said j cant come

Sirius Black: ask her again

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Remus Lupin added Sirius Black to Operation Lames

Sirius Black: hi

Remus Lupin added Peter Pettigrew to Operation Lames

Remus Lupin: Lily’s on to us.

Alice Fortescue: i got this

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Sirius Black (@siriuslyblanc) tweeted: @gunsnlilies #yolo

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Alice Fortescue to Sugar and Spice: yall going to blacks party?

Marlene  McKinnon: yep

Dorcas Meadowes: yes

Alice Fortescue: lils?

Lily Evans: no

Lily Evans: gonna do slughorns paper

Marlene McKinnon: nerd

Alice Fortescue: please lil

Alice Fortescue: frank said hell be there

Lily Evans: marls and dork are going

Alice Fortescue: but theyll be 2 busy kissing

Dorcas Meadowes: tru

Marlene McKinnon: ily

Dorcas Meadowes: ily more

Alice Fortescue: please lils!!!!

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Marlene McKinnon to Make Alice Longbottom  a reality 2k17 : do it for the longbottoms lil

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Dorcas Meadowes to Marlene McKinnon: who needs tindr when they got us

Marlene McKinnon: loooooool

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Lily Evans  to Sugar and Spice: fine

Alice Fortescue: YAY!!!!!!

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Lily Evans to Sirius Black: she said ok

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Sirius Black to Operation Lames: nice work alice

Alice  Fortescue: B)

Alice Fortescue: girl power

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Marlene McKinnon to Sugar and Spice: alice wear ur jeans miniskirt and pink jumper with ur hair down, nude lipstick,  blush. fuzzy boots

Alice Fortescue: k

Marlene McKinnon: lily wear ur black jeans,  green silky top and black slinky heels. Messy pony, chapstick, eyeliner and mascara

Lily Evans: dont tell me what to do

Marlene McKinnon: too bad

Marlene McKinnon: do it or die

Dorcas Meadowes: whoa there

Lily Evans: im going as alices wingwoman

Lily Evans: got no one to impress

Marlene McKinnon: lily lily lily

Marlene McKinnon: no wonder u r single

Lily Evans: hey!

Dorcas Meadowes: the birds got a point

Lily Evans: what about dorky

Marlene McKinnon: im on my way 2 her flat

Dorcas Meadowes: !!!!!!!!!

Lily Evans: :P

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Remus Lupin to Operation Lames: This is Sirius on Moony’s phone

Remus Lupin: CODE RED!!!!  CODE RED!!!!

Marlene  McKinnon: what

Remus Lupin sent a photo to Operation Lames

Remus Lupin: LAMES SNOGGING IN THE KITCHEN

Remus Lupin: Also Moony’s phone has proper autocorrect that corrects spelling and adds punctuation and shit.

Remus Lupin: Remus John Lupin is a phony.

Dorcas Meadowes: scandalous

Peter Pettigrew: is that

Peter Pettigrew: tongue

Marlene McKinnon: its called french kissing

Marlene McKinnon: making out

Marlene McKinnon: lip lacrosse

Marlene McKinnon: tonsil tennis

Peter Pettigrew: i get it

Alice Longbottom: mission accomplished

Sirius Black: dammit

Sirius Black: i wanted to say that