star-struck students (sylvain x f!reader II.)
✦ wowow This took long, sorry anon! Here you go - I hope you enjoy Sylvain opening up to you about his romantic ideals.
✦ (currently writing other requests! ;0)
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One would think that, after that past encounter with the well-known flatterer known as Sylvain Jose Gautier, he’d decide that the nervous, awkward and panicked soulmate wasn’t his choice of girl, and that he’d go on and find other ladies to scout in the monastery - in spite of, apparently, ending up together in the future.
He could have time to enjoy the luxuries of promiscuity and Y/N could focus on not thinking about Sylvain.
But it seemed that the ginger wished to suprise the woman once more, not only with the gift of giving her his undivided attention, but persevering and latching onto her side even when Y/N had clearly stated he wanted no business with him. Multiple times.
And so was the situation - the now inseparable two; an exhausted Y/N and a hopeful Sylvain, strolling around Garreg Mach monastery together every single night.
A low, silky voice was heard behind the studying woman, whose moment of relaxation turned into sheer stress the moment she recognized the voice, the rhythmic, prideful steps, and the crimson eyes that now drilled into her own gaze. But something was off, she noticed. It wasn’t the first night it happened, either.
Often, Sylvain would be accompanied by the fragrance of a feminine perfume - each night, a different one - crystalline proof of his philanderous activities...Yet that custom seemed to vanish the moment the man found out his alleged one’s promised.
Y/N, why would you notice such a small fact? Perhaps...His tenacity was growing on you?
At the thought of this, Y/N shook her head, slamming the book as a reflex when she looked at the waiting man in front of her. Her chest puffed up, a façade she would put on whenever he was to show up, she found out. (Which was every night, at this point.)
She spoke, as a way of greeting, while quickly standing up from the chair of the library. With Gautier already here, it was best to simply stash the book away - not before doggy-earing the page - , it was hard to concentrate on a book after being hit with flirtatious sentences constantly, after all. Y/N smiled.
It was hard not to appreciate his words. With every passing nightly talk and stroll, his compliments became more personal, touching. In a sense, it felt like
Y/N sighed as she pressed the book into the shelf firmly, the object smoothly sliding into place before colliding against the wooden back of the furniture. She turned back to her soulmate, looking at her with a small smile, leaning on his hand innocently.
She knew the routine already. He’d follow her outside the library, suggest a walk around the monastery, and they’d stay up past midnight, chatting away, bonding. As much as Y/N denied it, she enjoyed the moments where he could see the true Sylvain, flaws and all. Romantic, yet true. Y/N chuckled at her idealized imagination.
“A walk, then?” She turned to him abruptly, which made him sit up straight in a flash before nodding. He seemed excited, almost. Akin to a puppy with a new toy.
And so, the cycle of a slow, budding romance repeated.
Y/N could not read the letters written in front of her. Her mind kept drifting off to the endless cycle of connection with the ginger man that seemed to be late tonight. It gave her time for her mind to wander off - they always walked at night, yet, a cup of tea was never discussed in this odd contract they held.
All these innuendos seemed to be thrown so very easily women’s way, only to be met with a side glance and a giggle. No girl had ever responded to his amorous attempts. What would happen, were Y/N to respond?
Time to break the cycle, she thought.
And, as if on cue, the door opened, and the same airy steps filled the silence of the room. Y/N held a smile back at her mischievous plan. Something was bound to happen, for sure.
He grabbed the chair in front of her, plopping down pridefully as he leaned forward, ready to deliver a fatal blow to Y/N’s heart, as he did every night they met in their little rendezvous.
“Tell me, my dear Y/N. What time must you be back in heaven?”
And- wow. It certainly was smooth, alright. He was at least more experienced than her. (which was not hard.) She repressed the furious crimson that was about to spread through the bridge of her nose, and assumed the same stance she always showed to the man.
Grabbing her book without a word, she headed to a bookshelf next to them. Sylvain almost wondered if he did something distasteful before she spoke.
“Midnight is the latest I’ll stay. How about we have some tea meanwhile, soulmate?”
And albeit her tone was undoubtedly shaky, he appreciated the sentiment, and his pale cheeks showed a slight tint of a peachy pink - rare, in a casanova like he was.
“Let us waste no time, then!” He exclaimed in a hushed tone - they were in the library, after all - all while Y/N exhaled shakily, facing the shelf still.
The cycle had been broken.
“You have some odd friends, Sylvain!” Y/N said between giggles, all while holding the teacup tightly as she suppressed the will to cry out laughing.
Mainly, because the monastery was asleep. Sylvain and Y/N seemed to be the only ones awake at this time. That grumpy blue haired boy could be training, perhaps. It didn’t matter to any of the ones present in the gardens anyway.
“Well, yeah. We were a weird bunch, eh? Ha.” Sylvain was much more civilized, his laughter seemed not to erupt as loudly as his soulmates, but he had a colossal smirk on his face as he looked up, scheming something. His expression reminded Y/N of a certain archer.
“What are you planning, now?” Y/N teased, unaware of his intentions, and took a sip of her chamomile tea, sighing as her breathing evened out from the past laughter. “You better not wreak havoc this late. The professor would surely kill us if we’re caught.”
Sylvain gave to her banter no answer, and he stood up abruptly and looked at Y/N, his gaze seemed to hold a fiery determination to it - unusual, she thought. The proximity of their visages made the woman blush a crimson red as she sipped on her tea, an excuse to averting his gaze.
“You know...I never really have witnessed the star terrace at night.”
And she choked on her tea.
Sylvain was about to protest.
“Even if- okay, even if you weren’t joking, I would never do such a thing. What if the ARCHBISHOP sees us?!”
You would not indulge in such a crazy delirium.
You indulged in his crazy delirium. And it only took a puppy-eyed Sylvain. It was surreal.
Slithering through the hallways of the monastery, the third floor seemed to be closer, and closer.
“I can’t believe we made it without getting caught.”
Sylvain spoke out first between gasps, but his puffed chest and gaping mouth left it quite clear that he was proud of his accomplishment. Y/N was glad, too, but she didn’t seem so eager of trespassing such a sacred place.
But, when she got a good look at the place, she understood why he wanted to be here so acutely. The moon glistened over the two pristine ponds next to them, they gave out an eery glow, and it gave the balcony an otherworldly feel to it - holy, even.
“Ah, Sylvain. Did you ever notice there was a crest drawn here?” Y/N pointed at the ground in awe, an unknown symbol was drawn underneath them. “This place is wonderful.”
Something in that sentence seemed to trigger his thoughts.
Sylvain didn’t seem to share her excitement over the crest. He frowned and chuckled sardonically, stepping out of the circle, towards the obelisk, but facing the woman, nevertheless.
“The source of all my fears is my crest, Y/N. I get angry every time I see one. So it’s more like I don’t want to notice.” He muttered lowly, his left arm clutching his right one as a sign of self-uncertainty.
“Do you know why I’ve pestered you so much, Y/N?”
She looked up at him, confused and weary, as she neared in. She gave no answer, but the red-haired man answered for himself.
“Look- I hate commitment. It might be because I’m just too scared of being used because of my crest, or because I just can’t stick to someone in particular but- I-” He groaned, pressing his back against the obelisk and sliding down slowly. It cast a shadow on his figure, an empty vessel of his once confident mask.
Sylvain was unraveling in front of her.
“My mind switched the moment I met you, is what I mean. And I want to do things right. I know you might think of me as a ladies man and whatever, but honestly? They just want me for my crest, and I just want them for a one-night-stand. And I can’t handle it when girls get attached to me. But you- I don’t want you just for your body, you know?”
Y/N sat down next to him, looking up. She enjoyed the closure she was getting, the true colors of the paramour of Garreg Mach.
“You’re my soulmate. These stupid words in my forearm say so. And I want to believe it. These walks I take with you every night - They might have been the best thing I’ve had in a long time, Y/N, seriously. So I want it to stay that way.”
Y/N smiled. So this was Sylvain Jose Gautier - a romantic man, she thought.
“If it makes you feel better, Sylvain...” Y/N leaned into his shoulder, chuckling. “I didn’t even remember you had a crest.”
He smiled. “It’d be better if you kept thinking that.”
And then, after simultaneously chuckling, they fell in a comfortable silence.
Ages seemed to pass as they looked up into the stars, the mere sounds of nature being their melody in the requiem of that fated night. It was almost ideal.
They even ignored the metallic steps of a guard in their late night scouting duty.
“What are you kids doing here?”
“Looks like we’ll be seeing eachother in cleaning duty everyday, Y/N.”
Y/N whined.
“Not the time for jokes, Sylvain...!”
