#but nonetheless i am grateful that autumn is here

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part ii

tags: same as before except more unhinged, (slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT), idiots in love, friends with benefits though it is more than that, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, piv sex, overstimulation, thigh riding, dom!obi?, ANGST AT SOME POINT(S), tension so high that they should be on medication, me shortening every uncle-in-law phrase to uncle bcs english sucks in family terms, overuse of commas because editing 42 pages is hard

a/n: HELLO AGAIN, thank you all so much for all the love you've shown, i couldn't be more grateful. sorry for the *long* wait, i just thought the story needed a little longer than a week to do its trick, and frankly i am a busy person so 7 day gap wouldn't work for me. but i hope you can forgive me with this beast of a chapter, it is my first time writing such a long one. hope you enjoy it, and see you all again soon!

also not so fun fact: i totally misunderstood the "season", thinking it should be around summer- early autumn but it was the other way around, sorry, all the historical babes (i can no longer call myself that) for the frustration. but this timetable suits this story much better, does it not?

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three | ao3

enjoy!!!

word count: 19.7K

chapter two: it's a bad idea, right?

The morning or to be exact, the noon, is when you finally feel refreshed, ready for the challenges of the day. Lucky, because your relatives are more than understanding, has always been. They would scold you for going about your day as a ghost rather than miss breakfast or join only halfway to their other activities. You always try to honor their kindness, not to take advantage of the privileges as a guest, and do your best to spend time with your cousin Carolina, (The young girl has all the benefits of her young age, full of energy and excitement, fascinated by the stories she hears (from you, mostly)), and also avoid bringing a man into your room under their roof and absolutely ravaging each other-

The last one is an exception, which you are not proud of, yet not a single drop of guilt muddies your soul. None, considering the enjoyment or strengthened bonds.

Speaking of it, something tells you that you'd have been late anyways if you woke up early, thanks to him. There's indeed a mark on the side of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder. Also, your thighs share the same fate, though lightly, a few small bruises and red, irritated areas thanks to his neat beard. Thankfully, they're quite hidden except the one that's not that has you cursing at him. For how good it felt, and for his daredevil nature. 

You're scared to admit your fear for your future with him, not in the romantic expectations aspect, you would never, but for the simpler stuff like how are you going to look at his face and not be reminded of its presence between your legs. Or the unending tease he’ll become, even more so than usual, rightfully so. Make no mistake, you had pretty high expectations, and an overall picture of your relationships past it. Yet, last night was its own entity, reducing you to a mess in the most beautiful way, plucking every thought from your mind, yet dropping seeds of doubt like this.

Still, there’s a foolish smile on your face, and some soreness in between your legs, a welcomed ache.

Nonetheless, you’re not sure how to react when you descend the stairs, and he’s there, sharing tea with your aunt and uncle.

Obi Wan stands up in a blink, even before your aunt has the chance to react to your entry.

“Oh, here you are, sweetie! Just in time to join us in the gardens, and look, who’s here!”

“Hello, auntie. Uncle.” For what’s worth, you like being here, with them, and nothing changes that. You can feel the adamantine warm cloud of love in your chest. The reason you never doubted coming here.

“Lord Kenobi.” You greet him as well, though not with that big smile and sincerity you’ve just shown.

“My Lady.” His indifferent tone is interesting. Indifferent, yet indifferent as any other time, respectful and overly sympathetic. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you think? Yet, he’s here, isn’t he? His very presence is questionable enough.

“How good of the young man to join us, don’t you think? Though I fear it’s only due to work issues, and not out of courtesy.”

Yes, how good! And definitely not out of courtesy.

“You hurt me, Madam.” He objects, frowning his brows. “I must say this house, with its amiable hosts, has always had a great place in my heart. Last night once again proved it right, it was the best ball I’ve ever been to all summer. In fact, I was thinking of learning your contacts for the band and the cook, you inspired me to throw my own.”

You really, really try to not roll your eyes, and drop the tea that’s being offered to you now.

“Oh, no problem at all! I’ll write them down when we finish the paperwork in my study.” Your uncle says, and the absolute charmed look and excitation in his eyes have your stomach sinking. “And how are you, my dear? Haven’t you shaken out the morning chill yet?” He points to your shawl, wrapped tightly around your neck. You powdered the marks, and put on a big necklace, but then decided you couldn’t be too careful, and put on the fabric too.

“Yes, I think the weather change wasn’t quite easy on me this time.” You reach for the honey, making a show of it so they don’t put you in the center of attention.

“Did you sleep well last night?”So, it doesn’t work. And that’s about the one question you hoped to avoid.

“Despite the exertion taking place-“ Kenobi’s eyes widen, exaggerated by the teacup basically covering other parts of his face, and for a second you think he may choke on his tea. “downstairs, I say it was the best sleep I could’ve ever had.”

You hope your acting inspires the same in him too. He suppresses that little cough well, and the blush settling in his cheeks is faint, easily blamed on the warmth of the drink.

Strike one.

Irritation grows in you, rather than anxiety. Does he really think you’re that crude? That dumb? You make a point of not looking his way after that, an attitude clearly noticed by him in no time. It’s not like he has any chance of talking about it, but the alarm bell in his head rings continuously, busying his mind ‘til the opportune moment comes to talk about it.

Then, a gleeful screech of your name fills the room. In a blink, your cousin is right next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulder that you can’t properly stand up and hug her back in a normal way.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up all day long!” She says, hands reaching to hold yours, almost causing you to lose control of the fabric covering your neck. “We’ve got so much to do! And you were going to tell me all about Naboo! Did you really get to see the lions?”

“Sweetie-“ Despite the wildness of the affection you are given, there’s a huge smile on your face, and you almost make her sit on your lap- an old habit from her younger years.

“Come now- you promised to go riding with me. I want to show you how much I improved.”

“Well-“ your poor, poor legs are in no condition for that kind of activity. “I think it’s best if we do that tomorrow. You see, I had enough of it yesterday, I’ve been in a carriage all day.”

His smirking, twinkling eyes.

Strike two.

Your furious gaze kills that gleam quickly though. The faint smirk disappears, and he straightens his back, clearing his throat.

“Carolina, can’t you see we have a guest? Where are your manners? And give your poor cousin some space, for God’s sake!” Your aunt exaggerates like any mother of her generation, that high pitched voice screeching every ear in the room.

You should be glad to see the subject changed, but the condition of it is bitter. She bows her head down, taking a few steps away from you, but you hold onto her hand, keeping her near.

“Hello, young lady. I am Obi Wan Kenobi.” He sounds- sympathetic, though not overly. It is this sweet balance between respecting their being without the prejudices of age, but compassionate enough not to crush them under expectations they are yet to achieve. Interpreting this from just a couple of words seems a bit of a stretch, you know, still, his whole attitude screams he’s got some experience talking to kids, or considerable knowledge about the human psyche.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You explain further, trying to ease her.

“Welcome, Lord Kenobi.” She curtsies, yeah, she’s perfected that, you observe with proud eyes.

“I didn’t see you at the ball last night, I’m afraid.” Like he was there longer than an hour.

“It was past my bedtime.” The look she gives her parents tells him all he needs to know about her character, or precisely who influences her. He wonders if it was any similar to yours.  “I hope you had a wonderful time. You must’ve, because she’s an excellent dancer.” She turns at you, smiling so innocently that you can’t blame her for complicating things. “She taught me all about it, even better than my tutors.”

“Oh, no, we didn’t-“ The sentence synchronically rolls from both of your tongues, but you stop as you realize. There’s an abrupt silence in the room for a few seconds, causing anger to bubble up in you once more, and forcing you to make up an excuse to break free from this atmosphere.

“Hey,” You tug on her arm, “I’ve brought candy.” And just like that, she’s jumping all over you, bouncing with joy, “Sshh,” You warn. “First we need to go somewhere unseen.”

===

You see him again, days after, when he’s clearly learned his lesson, and gave you a window to breathe, calm your fury. The worst thing? It works. You can imagine (or in other words daydream) the next time you two see each other, which you desperately wish for it to be soon, and picture keeping yourself from stepping onto his feet, or shoving your finger into his chest. It all could not be forgotten but worked out through little warnings and explanations. Communication, basically.

And it turns out, you don't have to imagine any longer, and have the perfect opportunity to test your temper.

In a cafe. Where you sit alone. Blissfully ignorant of the couples (or to-be-couples) surrounding you. But most importantly, unchaperoned. (You had your tongue to defy any unwanted presence, and it's not like people came here alone like yourself. They came here for dates. And if anything, your presence was a litmus paper. What was to happen in marriage, if one couldn’t even keep their eyes from others in those little flirtatious rendezvous?)

(Though you knew some didn’t see it that way. A temptress, their choice of word to describe you.)

Obi Wan walks up to your table in quick, big steps that somehow don’t capture the attention of anyone but you. A further proof of that magic dust he sprinkles.  He’s dressed in browns today. It is a welcomed change. The smile on his face is unbeatably prominent, even as he follows the guide of manners, bowing his head and removing his hat before he sits in front of you. There’s no indication of his previous whereabouts in his looks and you wonder how he found you. Was he simply passing by the establishment before noticing your presence, or did he inquire about your engagements today, asking around?

"You shouldn't be here." It’s that sweet tone of yours, an alarm said in the softest of inclinations. “I have no company.” While it is redundant to both of your mindsets, the need of a chaperone for every conversation you have with strangers, you like to be cautious.

Then let me be it, he would’ve said, if it wasn’t literally the first time after your distasteful encounter. He’s not going to throw away that lesson for a shot of comedy. Or the fact that it’s hardly a request, but again- It’s not worth it. “I just wanted to say how sorry I was for the last time. It was- unadvisable to say the least.”

That- feels so good to hear, somehow. Far better than expected. You lean back in your chair, a sly smile on your face that you can’t help, and a subtle blush, a total contrast to your attitude.

“What can I say though? I don’t know if it’s still possible to be unsatisfied, but I sure felt like that if I didn’t see you again.”

Your fingers grasp the fork far too tightly, considering you have no appetite left for the desert in front of you. It’s the flashbacks from that night, and the undeniable effects it had on both of you.  

“Well, apology accepted.” 

He releases a breath after your words, visibly relaxed, amusing you further. You focus your gaze on the plate, in hopes of blending this conversation into the atmosphere around. 

You add. “Then again, don’t take my forgiveness for granted. None of my partners were this careless, and I seriously expected better from you.” 

(You're quite aware this is not the sort of conversation fit here.)

The interruption of “Oh, that will never even cross my mind.”, turns into “Partners?”, thankfully in a whisper, but sharp enough that it holds the same value as a shriek. He plays it off like it’s a frivolous question, a part of your ongoing banter, a mere thread to spin the conversation.

As if you gave the perfect impression of a blushing virgin that night. You flutter your lashes, as you take a bite. The silence is absolutely deafening, before you can continue. “There’s a reason I like traveling that much. Naboo. Correlia. Alderaan. God, even Hoth.” The discomfort in his face grows, and you fight it with an explanation, hoping that’s the reason. “Never at the same time, though, if it wasn’t obvious. It was just about having good company if I was to spend months in a city.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He shakes his head, an act of his nonjudgemental nature. “So, am I the Coruscant part of your little play?”

“No. You're the exception.” You laugh. “I haven’t- not here. I wouldn’t dare. Too little privacy. No trust. Above all, not a single soul that felt like a match of my own. Til I met you.” He deserves to hear that, right? “However I must say, the rules would be a little different here. Requires more caution. Fine work. For example, you couldn’t come and see me like this whenever you desire."

"Fair enough." He agrees, though makes little effort to follow the lesson. Actually, not even little, none. He just sits there, moulding into his chair further, a pleasant grin as he takes the world in, entertaining himself with the surrounding people. And you, of course. His piercing gaze travels back to you, every time.

Well, right. Not like you wanted him off of your table. "What do you want, Lord Kenobi?" And how did you know I would be here anyway? 

"Are you coming to the picnic on Saturday, in the Perlemian Park?"

You were certainly thinking about it. "Possibly."

"I'm only going if you are joining too." He wets his lips, an action you don't miss, and you continue to watch it long after he's done and see the next words coming out, before your brain can comprehend their meaning. "So, I'll need a better answer." 

The same lips that mapped out your entire body, whispered all those dirty things, tasted your hidden corners, drinking in the pleasure it provided…

He clears his throat, and you break out of the trance. He looks at you with a brow lifted, but the twinkles behind his blue eyes tell you it's not out of boredom. More like the exact opposite. 

"I'll be there." 

This is his cue to leave, with excitement for the said event, and a tinge of sadness for this interaction ending. You mirror his manners as he bids you a good day. 

Then, you're left alone, exactly as merely half an hour ago. Yet, the dessert in front of you is unsavory, nowhere near enough to satisfy your sweet tooth.  

It is still completely the same.

=== 

Comes Saturday, and does it come slower than possible… The weather seems like it's making one last show before the summer ends and scorches the earth, leaving everyone a sweating mess, little to no words coming out of their mouth, sprawled on the nearest surface. You seriously debate whether calling the offer off, the choice of fanning yourself to a lazy nap sounding better and better. It is in these extensive relaxations that you uncover the horrid truth- your fingers fell short in bringing you pleasure now, making you an even more sweaty, frustrated mess rather than the relaxed, drowsy mess you want to be. It is an awful revelation, bringing along many questions that haunt your every waking hour. You fear it's got something to do with him- and the best prescription for you is to stay away.

Alas, you keep true to your promise and show up. 

Thankfully the air has calmed down on said day, and sorbets are refreshing, making it more than a bearable experience. Bearable is actually an insult in this case, for it is more than that. These people are some of your oldest friends, close to your age, and share your opinions. It is hard not having fun when you are allowed to be free (just a little more than normal, though it is enough). None cares about the obscene gossip, or juices of fruit staining faces, dripping onto the expensive fabrics you all are adorned in. Laughs are loud and constant, never letting three minutes go without them. Hands are all flying around, hitting each other as a joke, reaching for the last piece of cake, taking the very dangerous road back without spilling a drop of the drink (which is, once again, a target of pranks).

Obi Wan enjoys it as much as you do, despite the fact that he doesn’t know them like you do. His life doesn’t allow much leisure time, and his choice of friends is mostly unfitting to these kinds of events, but he doesn’t have a problem finding joy in these kinds of events. Maybe it is mostly due to you, watching you in your nature, admiring the way you handle yourself among the crossfire of jokes, or what foods you prefer the most, making silly expressions as the taste of them hits just right. With every little thing he learns about you, he’s drawn closer to you. Once, he would name you a mystery, yet that would indicate the thrill was all in revelation. Now, it is the exact opposite. He gets more excited with each new question, like what is the actual story behind the “donkey joke” you are hinting at, or why do you pick some of the seemingly perfectly looking strawberries aside and pick others- or why you blush when you catch him looking at you, only to do the same yourself?

It is only in the afternoon that the buzz leaves its place for something serene. Conversations diminish, replies take longer, bodies sag and lean on the nearest surface, be the tree trunks or picnic baskets or their loved ones.

C’mon then, let’s take a walk. One proposes, and others follow, albeit slowly and with protests. You are among the latter, every cell in your body refusing to produce or use energy.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you end up at the very back of the group with Lord Kenobi, and while you manage to stick with him unlike your friends, the distance between you and them grows and now, you can safely say that you’ve lost the sight of them. Twenty minutes ago.

So yes, you’ve been walking alongside him in silence. Far away that you don’t brush hands, yet so close that it would raise questions if someone were to see.

“I don’t think this is doing much for my somnolence.” He basically yawns.

"Should I take that as an insult, my Lord?" 

"Why would you- what did I say to make you think so?" He shakes his head, as stubborn as he's apologetic, ready to accept the accusation if your reasons are firm. Still, his heart is already pacing up, distressed. That must be the wine taking over.

"Well, am I not the only reason for your presence? And I must be boring you, if you are still feeling drowsy." 

"No- Absolutely untrue- “ He stutters, a panic to find the right words, not to be buried under your claims, he is not going to lose his chance to be by your side- only to realize the grin on your face too late.

"You little minx." He breathes out, and is rewarded by the sound of your tempting giggle. 

"Seems like I successfully rid you of your problem." You take pride. "And now, I suggest walking by the lake, to ensure its permeance."

"You mean to dip my feet in the water?" Again, he shakes his head, already rejecting the proposition.

"If you don't do it I shall." You skip, prancing like a nymph before he grabs you by the arm. 

“I don’t think that is safe.”

“It perfectly is.” You state, bewildered by his anxious urge. One look into his hand, and he remembers to let you go. The said hand flies to his hair, with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, but – let me be by your side. And make it quick.”

The fact that he thinks you need his approval is downright funny, though you’d take issue with it any other time. Now, you are amused by his good intended worries and don’t have it in your conscience to break his heart over it, or bring up a quarrel.

So, you start undressing. Only your socks and shoes.

Still, the blush settles on his cheeks, and the light behind his eyes burns brighter as he sees the skin just above your knees naked. Not for the first time- still, he feels like turning his back on you, but does no such thing. And that is not because it defeats the purpose of his presence.

God, how could you even make you believe he wasn’t planning on having these impure thoughts?

You feel your temperature rising, and it has nothing to do with the sun. You meet his hypnotized eyes, and can still feel it focused on you. After days of dissatisfaction, its effect is multiplied by ten, making your heart race. You pray none of it is visible on your face. the last thing you need is for him to know.

He laughs when you lay the white fabric in the old woods of the docks, like the spoiled child you are. It is more than likely to stain, but more importantly, it is definitely old, creacking under every step, hence his aversion to sit beside you with a head shake. You shrug in return, and pull your skirt slightly above your knees, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Oh, this is lovely!” You say, sprawling your toes in the water. “Truly, you are missing out.”

“I believe you, my Lady.” His tone is joyful, just the right combination of trust and mockery.

You turn to look at him, a big mistake. The excess part of your dress brushes the surface, wetting the fabric, though it is the last thing you care. He is looking at you, with that charming grin, and subtle hunger etched into his gaze, screaming worship, in complete awe of the scene he's beholding, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, holding his hand, her dress bunched up like in those ancient paintings of fairies, and endless passion for the leading role of it. It swirls the emotions deep inside your belly, the only reaction you want to avoid. Yet, you’re not immune to it. your heart skips a beat, the tingles overtaking your skin.

“Look- I see fishes!” You whip your head, the one thing you can do in hopes of breaking the tension. You lean forward, trying to get a clear view, or try to do so because you are stopped by his grip.

“That’s enough.” The command sends a shiver down your spine. “You shouldn’t go any further.”

“Fine.” You huff, the simplest protest you can manage. His touch softens as he realizes you’re going to follow his words, though takes long to let go.

A few minutes pass in the silence of nature.

“How long are you going to stand like this?” You ask, exasperated that this isn’t going anything like you imagined.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m also standing, this is hardly fun.”

“That is only the result of your own choice.”

Narrowing your eyes, you huff and climb back on your feet, disregarding the objections of the offended dock. Then, you push past him- 

He suddenly pulls you back, promptly disrupting your balance, a tactic he uses to pick you up into his arms. You scream as your feet meet the air, hands grabbing anything they can reach which ends up being his clothes.

“What are you doing?!” You yell, burying your fingers into him. With how strong your grip is, you can feel every muscle tensing under your touch. 

“I’m not gonna let you walk in that mud, after all.” He explains like it was the problem you were referring to.”

“My shoes! – and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

He adores the pout you have as he fetches them.

He leans his back on the tree, and you rest your arms on your knees, propped up.

“So, we are to sit here and sulk?”

“If you name it so.” His smile is borderline insulting, ear to ear. With one look, he points at the reason- your wet feet. There’s literally no choice but to wait for them to dry up. But by proposing the only solution, he infuriates you further.

“Very interesting.” You snark. “I would’ve just stood back if I knew this was what we would be doing.”

“And now it is I who might take those words as an insult. Have I somehow proven my companionship to be loathsome in the times we spent together?”

Times you spent together… The flashbacks are, as implied in their name, flash before your eyes at such great speed that by the time you realize it is not something you should ponder upon now, your heart rate is already up, the flame deep in your belly ignited once again, and even the sounds of the past are echoing in your ears. You turn your head away from him, cursing at the color blooming on your cheeks.

Oh, but the action is enough to let him know exactly what you are feeling, a song of “I thought so” on his tongue- yet he doesn’t sing it yet, realizing the underestimation of his own emotions. He brings it upon himself- a glance at you, taking in your red face (as much as possible) and bare legs, let out to the sun to dry up.

“Well, I’ll think that’s the case if you don’t say anything.” He opts to say this instead, loving to taunt you further. 

“It’s not.” You mumble, still turned to the other side, fingernails digging at your palm.

“I can’t hear you, dear.”

“I said-“

The moment you move your head, you are met with his face, so close to yours, a distance he promptly closes by placing a hand at your neck, and tugging at it, ‘til your lips crash. You lose your balance once more, gripping his collars to not fully crush him with your weight. You gasp, the only protest you have in yourself, because for all your resolve to stay away, here you are, falling right into his arms. And it feels so damn good.

You gasp, pushing him. He laughs as his back hits the tree, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You whisper-scream, suddenly aware of the fact that while you are all alone on this field, your friends are still very much around.

“Oh, what am I doing? It is you, darling, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you were looking at me.”

You direct your gaze to the ground, embarrassment getting the better of you.

“What is it?” He questions your lack of defiance. “You had no problem before. Don’t tell me you’re scared of being seen. They should at least be like, a mile away.”

Yeah. That’s absolutely correct. Besides, you’re shielded from any unwanted visitors by the thick line of trees, and the sheer distance between there and the path. It is a secluded corner of the lakeside.

“Or is there something else that’s bothering you?” This, is said in a more suggestive tone, and its effect is only amplified by the way he holds your chin to refocus your attention. You burn under his grasp and insistent watch.

Say farewell to your pride.

You let yourself fall over him once more, kissing him with a whimper you can’t quite suppress. You feel his smirk at that, but neither of you dwells on it, for he too lets out a sound of desperation, panting as he pulls you close, placing you on his thigh. (You hear your dress positively rubbing against the grass, and dare not to imagine the green blotch that may appear.) You don’t know whether to celebrate your newfound closeness or chastise your weak will, for it creates a new wave of desire in you as you delve your fingers into his beard. Your skin lights up against his coarse hair, so familiar yet so unyielding under your touch, and to be holding his face in your hands like this only blinds you more. So blind that you only realize the movement of your hips, seeking pleasure, when he holds them.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” A kiss right on the left corner of your lips. “Are you haunted by that night so deeply that you are unable to satisfy your needs on your own, like me? Or hell, with another?” Even in the midst of haze, you don’t miss the way his eyes darken at the mention of a third party.

“No- only you.” You whisper, too afraid of things ending.

“Fuck.” He can’t help but burst at your surrender. “That’s my girl. Lift your hips a little for me, darling.”

You oblige without question, raising yourself on your trembling thighs. Holding your breath, imagining all the things he can do to you… He is bewitched by your neediness, the way you moan at the first contact his hand makes with your skin after lifting your skirt just above your knees so you have more freedom to move, and can directly sit on his thigh.  

Speaking of it, why? Your eyebrows scrunch as he pushes you down like that, though the actual questioning part comes a second after your clit rubs against the fabric, not his cock, the first jolt of true ecstasy you experienced in a while, but that can’t be the case for him, right? “What are you-?”

“Trust me.” He takes his sweet time to relish the expense of your neck, so close for his taking, partly to ease your nerves, and frankly it is too much fun for his own good to feel you twitch in anticipation, and your breath getting stolen away at his open-mouthed kisses, panting when he lingers on a spot for too long at the fear of him leaving a bruise. “No marks, I perfectly remember.” He has to confess after a point, and only after that point, you begin to truly relax, and have your heart beating so fast at the same time, noticing your wetness is positively seeping into his clothes.

Your jaw hangs open with a silent pant as he decides it’s enough, and guides your body, rocking onto his. It’s not something you haven’t done before, but there’s something so unique about now, maybe the scandalous location, or your depraved state, or simply everything regarding him, that you are convinced it looks like your first time. Shit, it may even be your first time, considering the previous examples are nowhere close to this, the stakes, the desperation, the payoff… You’re holding onto his shoulders like a fucking virgin, pressed so close to receive every bit of affection he's giving. It’s the damn heat, the greatest excuse on your lips for the last couple of weeks, invalidated by the nonexistence of space between you and him. It only causes sweat to pour out of both of you, like the constant drip out of your cunt, sabotaging all your attempts to gain control, and create the slightest of frustration. 

“Obi Wan.” You chant his name, unable to form any other word, and he drinks it all in, valiantly ignoring the ache in his cock. It is a hard task, a growing challenge as your knee brushes against it from time to time, especially when you try to take initiative and escape the rhythm he’s trying to create.

“Ah-ah-ah- Let me take over. You know we’re short on time, darling.”

Then, he does justice to his words as he bounces his leg, the added pressure claiming a gasp from you.

“Do that again.” What your efforts can't get you, maybe your pleads can. After all, you're just as stubborn as him, giving up easily is not on your book.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”  

You roll your eyes, though it is totally due to annoyance, and let out a moan, throwing your head back. The fresh air does nothing for your lungs anymore, just an outlet for your scandalous noises. Which, he has no complaints too, your erratic breaths warmed his neck enough, and blessed him with those sweet sounds, right under his ear. Oh, but in any other case, this was anywhere else, and he had to silence you, also which he has no complaints too. Perhaps the sole problem is missing the blissed out expressions of your pretty face, and the light in your eyes, burning for him.

“Are you close?” Like he even needs to ask, like he’s not aware of your moans turned whimpers.

“Hmmh.” Is all the answer he gets, and that’s enough for him, laughing quietly, as you feel the vibrations of his chest.

When you cum, it is indeed an earth-shattering moment, and an end to your misery, the first drop of water after thirst- so much so that you don’t care about it happening in such a short time. Your legs squeeze his firm thigh, shaking over them like the rest of you. His one hand travels to your waist, holding you steady and pressed against him. You swear you can feel every aspect of his hand over three layers of fabric, yet he’s not actually exerting that much power, treating you like a delicate flower, afraid to crush the silky petals.

You sigh as the trembles die down, your senses coming back to you one by one- the first and foremost the tension in the body beneath you. Your fingers loosen from his collars, and travel the expanse of his torso slowly, a kiss to his throat in the meantime.

“Don’t you worry about me.” His voice is slightly shaky, though it may very well be due to his exertion.

“I think I should.” Its trueness is further proven when you palm him, and he groans. Though he is insistent.

“Look at you, you sweet thing, concerned with me walking around with a hard-on.”

That has you rolling your eyes, and removing your hand. Removing your entire body, even. You settle on the grass, leaning on your elbows. Your dress is already ruined, so you’re past the point of worrying.

“On the other hand, you may want to think about this.” He points to his wet trousers, the dark stain visible even though the fabric is black.

Uh oh. That is indeed a problem, if you are to return soon. Unfortunately, your brain can’t grasp the danger, coming up with solutions like soaking him entirely in the lake… 

So, it’s no wonder that your next words are a joke.“You marked me, I marked you. We're even.”

To your surprise, it works. His laughter fills the entire forest, yours a whisper in comparison. The idea that maybe, just maybe this can be repeated every now and then, that it wouldn't harm anyone fills your chest with a different kind of cheer, a hopeful sensation that suits the summer. He's proven his carefulness, making the best of the situation without risking either of you. The rising hope in you should scare you, but it doesn't. It only makes you sprawl under the sun like a cat enjoying the heat, and join his laughter with a big grin.

“Fair. Absolutely fair.”

===

The next time you see each other again, things seem to cool down a bit. It is entirely a civil dinner, always at a respectable distance, the number of times you lock eyes are countable on one hand (though some border the edge of being a little too long), and it is all not so surprisingly, plain. Maybe it is about both of you trying to contain one’s self, so much so that the other core aspect of both of you, the humorous side is buried that night and no other person can live up to its ghost. Perhaps it is due to the upcoming end of summer, bringing out a tinge of melancholy, already mourning the past, thus your impulses dwindle down, the sparkles absent.

That is, ‘til, you are the only occupants in the saloon, after the other guests have left, and your aunts retreated to their rooms. You are reading a book, barely aware of the fact when he, sitting next to you in that single armchair drops whatever pen he’s holding, just by your feet. You’re pulled out of your trance by the sound it creates, raising your gaze from the page just in time to see him bending over to retrieve it or- ending up completely kneeling in front of your legs.

He raises his head, and you watch the way his face softly being illuminated by the candlelight, a smile you can’t decide whether charming or devilish, long abandoning his mission.

That’s the moment the air shifts, and the room feels hotter like the cheminee is lit, the heat wave has returned, and taken both of you to that lakeside, and the week before it, the frustration and despair that came with being unable to take care of yourself. You haven’t felt such a thing after, perhaps, it’s due to your fulfilled state and therefore lack of trial, but now, the need returns, like adding more to an already full cup, realization only hitting after the drops spill from the sides. The cup demands to be emptied, - translation: your soul demands whatever pleasure you can get your hands on- and the image of him causing it is certainly a preference.

(Again, it is your soul that’s demanding it- your brain would very much like to lock you away in the furthest corner of this house, or kick him, if that’s all you can manage.)

“Excuse me?”

“I just remembered how I failed to say how beautiful you look tonight.” 

“Thank you.” Your mouth speaks before you can protest the improperness of your situation. Color settles on your cheeks for accepting his compliment first. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my pen.” He shrugs, and demonstratively takes it to his hand, yet it is once more left to the ground instead of the nearest table, with the rest of his papers. He adds, “I admire how you are an expert in navigating every social situation, whether it's a boring dinner like this, or a ball.

Your eyebrows raise at the boring part, after all, it's hosted by your relatives, and it wasn't exactly boring, maybe a little uneventful. “Not every occasion has to be full of adventure, Lord Kenobi. Slow nights like this are beneficial for the soul. Gives the mind some rest.” 

He purses his lips, like he’s been told on his bluff, the one part he emphasized to sound strong. Because, he is. He had fun tonight, the type that fills one’s heart with sweet lethargy. “I suppose you’re correct. But you’re missing out on an important detail.”

“And what is that?”

“The right company.”

You’re glad that your hands were pressing against the book, holding the page, because if they weren’t, they would be visibly shaking.

“I have underestimated how much I missed you, that much is clear to me now.” Barely speaking, or barely speaking anything important with you throughout the evening, yet he feels rejuvenated, the ache in his chest becoming prominent as it starts the heal. He doesn’t say the last part, but the sentiment is reflected in the soft sparkle behind his eyes, the hypnotic storm, pulling you towards unknown chaos, but beautiful, and promising safety in its center. That’s why you don’t protest as his hand reaches for yours, brushing your knee (he wanted to do that for some time, to feel the soft fabric that basically decorates your body), interlocking fingers, and reluctantly retreating them in favor of taking the book that sits in your lap, setting it aside. You don’t protest, despite the screams in your head, saying he’s right there why is he still there-

 “And the other thing I missed terribly, the sight of your legs.”

Your shaky inhale echoes.

His fingers gently close over your ankles, and travel upwards slowly, lifting your dress alongside. “Though I’ve only seen them twice, they might be my favorite view, ever.”

“Is that so?” You are perplexed by the confession, with a lazy grin, very much enjoying the seduction. His way with words seems like a constant threat to your sanity, but damn do you adore it dearly, a voluntary victim to its spell.

“Why would I ever lie to you?” He whispers, hands tightening. “I like them very much. But I think I would like them better around my shoulders.” He pulls your knees slightly, causing you to yelp as your back caves in, and grasps your ankles once more, proceeding to demonstrate exactly his words.

“What are you doing?” You ask, like you don’t know the answer. It is a statement, an acknowledgment, the last chance to bring some sense into any of you. You’re in the living room, in a house that is not your own, filled with people who are still very well awake, and can just decide to come in.

“Having a second dessert, if I may?” And how can you refuse, after the image is served to you on a golden plate?

“But at the lake - You were-” 

“You think I'm doing this for recompensation?”

“No, I didn't mean to imply that.” God, this is embarrassing. “I just wanted to say I might miss having my way with you.”

“I’ll be glad to take that as a promise.”

Then, it is settled. 

Still, he waits for your small nod and takes in the way you bite your lip, wishing he was the one to do so, but- priorities. Time is a valuable asset, especially now, and he has to honor his offer. That’s why he opts for a few small, open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, actively fighting the desire to leave bruises, evidence, a memory. Judging by the rapidness of your breath, it seems he has reached his goal in some way. It’s the beard- scratching your skin even when his mouth is not doing something, sensitizing the flesh and making it all too susceptible to the incoming assault. Your hand flies up, absentmindedly reaching for his hair, yet stopping a second before, landing on the couch instead- if you messed up his hair, there’s no coming back from it. He chuckles at your struggle, the warm breath making you squirm. Even if you don’t, he’s maddened by action, despite the laugh. He has you- but not really. He’s enveloped in your heat, taking in your scent, and seconds away from tasting you, but is not able to be blessed with the slight pain he'd felt if you tugged on his strands, or the untamed sounds you’d have sung in a more private setting.

So yes, he’s as torn and desperate as you. Slow nights, you said? 

Truth be told, it doesn’t matter what adjective comes before the word; slow or fast, boring or exciting as hell, freezing or hellishly hot; if it is with you, it is a good night. Otherwise, it is lacking. The world may be painted gray forever, considering you two mostly don’t get the chance to spend more than two occasions together in a week, but there can be no comparison to colorful scene of those moments.

And this is the night Obi Wan admits that fact.

You both moan, when his tongue finally meets your cunt, licking a messy stripe. It is more of a vibration than a noise- possibly for the best. It makes you jolt, and his hold tightens, and again, it is for the best, because when he decides to pay attention to your clit after his time exploring your folds is done, your limbs start to shake, threatening to fall. Your eyes roll back when things settle, and pleasure starts to build up, your juices flowing, and he drinks it all in before they have the chance to make a mess of your dress.

That is the first time he takes a break. “Eyes on me, darling.”

What is with him and that special request?

Your whine doesn’t mean anything to him, except make his cock twitch in his now tight trousers- but that has other reasons too. He waits ‘til your eyelids open once more, and you meet his gaze, and a second longer, unable to resist the urge to get lost in your hazy expression. Then, he dives back in, swirling the muscle around your bundle of nerves. In any other circumstance, you’d have thought this would be too indelicate, so straight to the point, no fun or respect, yet his way to do so is anything but those qualities. His movements are precisely designed for you, slow enough to not cause discomfort, fast enough to make the best of your unknown time limit. You’re afraid to deduce that one time was enough for him to learn you, one time to turn your world upside down, and leave you to deal with the memory of it. 

“Sweetie?” That’s the first time your eye contact is broken. The world freezes for a second before it does, and your head whips to the direction the sound has come from, to find your aunt by the door. Miraculously, she continues to stand there, unbothered by the long and protective distance which compromises of the dining table and the back of your couch, a perfect cover for the scandal that is taking place. Obi Wan stills, perhaps even stops breathing, yet he’s the one to snap you out of your shock with his grip around your skin. It is ridiculously encouraging, knowing he's not abandoning you on your own, even at the expense of getting caught, and the dread it would surely follow.

“Yes, auntie?” You gulp. Trying not to sound breathless is a clear effort.

“Have you seen Lord Kenobi?”

Your reputable smartness lags, the answer of yeah, he’s right here IN BETWEEN MY LEGS, occupying your mind.  “I think he went out to get some air, I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“How odd.” She comments, “And what are you doing there on your own?”

“Reading my book.” You smile, and hope your cheeks’ tremble isn’t too noticeable. “It’s quite good- couldn’t tell the time.”

She scorns. “Oh, now I see- he must’ve gotten bored as you were buried in your book. You truly should work on your guest etiquette, dear. And Lord Kenobi, of all people!”

“Auntie!” Your eyes widen, and you squeal a little, and feel Obi Wan giggling quietly.

“I’m just saying, that you should treat him better- he’s a good person, and obviously fancies you.”

“Auntie!”

“I mean, I like him? Don’t you like him?”

The urge the scream has never been stronger.

To escape the subsequent questions should you answer otherwise, you give in, and sag.” I do.” And the worst thing is, you actually do. Objectively, you like him, all his little jokes and sweet tongue (no pun intended), the elegant form he carries himself in, and the kind nature he never fails to live up to. Except for the dangerous extent your relationship is getting into, there’s nothing about him that you don’t like. And truthfully, even that is barely a matter you care about, proven by your current situation. 

You can feel him smile, the coarse facial hair biting into your skin, rubbing like a cat, and the sensation is followed by a kiss on your thigh. 

“Then you know what I am saying is the truth.” She raises her eyebrows in a motherly manner, a loving attempt of intervention. “Don’t stay up too late, no matter how absorbing that book is. We are invited for breakfast to the Mon’s Estate.”

Thankfully, she’s gone like that, saving you the act.

When you turn to your front again you find the need to come up with a warning to make him shut up unnecessary for he kisses you, silencing both of you. The action brings color to your cheeks more than ever in this entire evening. The fact that you can taste yourself on his tongue aside, he’s so gentle about it, like congratulating your success, or admiring your talent, pouring out his affection for you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his wide torso, it is how good it feels. When you two part, the lack of breath gets the best of you, only then do the swarming butterflies in your stomach begin to disturb you again.

But you’re not so quick to forget the last couple of minutes. Perhaps you've spoken too soon back then at the lake, thinking this could be continued. You’d imagined the rest of this scene a little differently, letting him follow you to your room, returning the favor, but that scare has only helped you to brew a storm inside you.

“Obi Wan…” You whisper, brows cinched in concentration as he towers over you, claiming all your senses. “We can’t- we have to stop…”

“Sshh, calm down.” His thumb draws circles on your skin, trying to soothe you in one aspect, if not every. He’s not going to let you go to your bed shaken like this, for starters. “Take a deep breath.”

You try, twice before you can manage to fill your lungs in their entirety, and your achievement is rewarded with a peck to your neck. Some of the air leaves you in an abrupt exhale because of it, and he curses himself for it.

“Follow my lead.” He tries again, reclining on his knees, giving you space. It is another challenge to look into his ocean eyes, and match his pattern, but you manage, your heart beat semi-regular after a minute or so.

Semi, for said eyes and your bare pussy are face to face, and all common sense loses its importance, burned by the fire inside you.

“Obi Wan- please…”

“You sure?” He will be very disappointed if you change your mind, but he has to ask, play the sensible part. And ignore the constant throb in his trousers that has become even more unbearable after you confessed your feelings.

“Just… make it quick.” Oh, are you seriously requesting an orgasm like ordering a cake in a café?

“As you wish, love.”

He starts out the same, just playing his game a little faster, and he holds your hand as he does so, the small detail as efficient as his moves. But, the final blow is his other hand, prodding against your entrance. The flood of memories doesn’t help either, as you remember that night. A loud moan threatens to leave you, and you slap your palm against your mouth. He stops ‘til you are secured, praise in his eyes, and pushes the two digits in, stretching you out in the way. Your fingers are nothing in comparison, and he notices it immediately, the way your walls hug him. 

Though, he’s an expert, and can absolutely manage to take care of you properly, so there’s nothing but pleasure, your slick channel welcoming the intrusion. It is not long before he feels the resistance fading and returning in a new form, as your climax approaches, and your muscles begin to quiver.

With your noises secured in your throat, the only form of communication is your connected hands, squeezing each other sometimes enough to risk breaking fingers. He understands what you mean perfectly, reaching up to a certain speed, then keeping it the same ‘til you start trashing, legs violently shaking around his body, and juices dripping, this time more than he can clean up. If any other time, he wouldn’t stop ‘til he feasted on every drop of it, but he withholds himself, respecting the clouds of danger. He’s glad to have helped with your anxiety, yet he doesn’t want to carry the ease to dangerous level and make you susceptible to be swayed in whatever direction.

Well, the image of his messy, wet beard certainly sends you through the wrong one, but already your nerves are not able to take more risks tonight, so you just bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, and lower your legs to the ground as he starts by cleaning out his fingers. It is hard to believe any man would try this much to indulge in your every aspect, but here he is, careful about even the smallest part.

Damn, you want to take him to your room and let him have his way with you so bad- but this is enough adventure for a night.

“Good night, Lord Kenobi.” You say, fixing your skirt, and standing up on shaky legs with your book clutched in the tightest grip against your belly.

“Good night, darling.” He nods, a content smile. “Send my compliments to the chef. “

===

“Lord Kenobi?”

You’re justified in your shock, enough to express it out loud in the middle of the jewelry shop, the last place you’d expect to run into him. Of course, he’s a neat and subtle man, and his appearance reflects his statue, though in a very calculated yet effortless manner. His pocketwatch is a family heirloom, so you’ve been told, a chic piece he takes great care of, and while his cufflinks are always elegant, it is never that eye-catching. It only compliments its wearer, you dare say, a final addition to an already completed painting.

(You never denied his handsomeness, and this is an objective opinion. Don’t read much into it.)

His supposed loneliness coupled with the fact that he looks utterly lost and bored, your curiosity is aggravated further.

Also, bumping into each other? What is this, a trick of fate?

“Madame.” He bows, and moves to press a kiss to your hand, the tradition not forgotten. His shock is easily ridden, unlike yours. The small blush on his cheeks and the wide grin on his lips tell contradictory stories, not that you’re judging, but the evident thing is his excitement.

“What are you doing he-”

“What a coincidence-“ His interruption is most unexpected, along with the high pitch in his voice.

You tilt your head, further dazed, but before the suspicion creeps in (you would be terrified to turn your gaze and find women’s accessories laid out for his picking on the table, for somebody else or for you; the latter being the lesser evil, but still disturbing), another joins, though he doesn’t seem to notice you at first.

“How helpful you are being, Obi Wan!” The tall young man with light brown hair calls out, necklaces hanging from both hands. You have a feeling that if he wasn’t busy, there would’ve been a physical reaction as well, a friendly pat on his shoulder, perhaps. “Don’t you know this is important? I need-“

His sentence is broken when he catches your attentive gaze, and realizes you are a part of this conversation as well. You’re amused by how glass-like he is, full of emotions and not afraid to show them. He looks at you, and back to Obi Wan, who finally decides it’s time for an introduction. The expression of recognition flashes through his face in a second as your name is revealed, but you can’t reflect it back fully. You have heard of Kenobi’s best friend or as some call it, brother, although barely from the man himself. You've witnessed how Kenobi's eyes lighten up with pride whenever Skywalker was mentioned, and stories- summaries of their adventures together that he told. The shortness of them wasn't a result of his unwillingness to tell them, but the circumstances of your company, never long or alone enough to visit them in their deserved entirety. 

To be honest, Anakin doesn't know much about you either. He and Padme prefer the countryside by the sea, especially during the summer, thus he and Obi Wan hadn't had the means to talk often lately. He senses the situation, by the slight tension in the older man's voice; this strong, confident man crumbling into pieces for some unknown reason. 

“Pleased to meet you, my Lady.” He makes a small cursty, which you mirror.  

“Likewise, Lord Skywalker.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll need my friend back to keep his promise.” The chains in his hands shake as he speaks, reminding the absurdity of it all. You’re not disturbed by it though, for all is concealed under his charismatic voice and mimics. He’s pretty and he knows it, which gives him all the tools to captivate others. Now you understand why people speak about him like that, moved by hearing his name alone.

“Oh, not a problem at all. We were just saying hello.” Entertained by the interaction, your anxiety is somewhat diminished, enough to let him go without an explanation. Also, the way that he rolls his eyes, and clenches his jaw is very cute, you dare say.

“Promise? I never promised anything.” He murmurs, but it is still audible for you as he follows his friend. And the rest, which makes you laugh whenever you remember it. “Anakin- she's your wife, you know her better than me. How exactly do you expect me to help you?”

“You always had a vision when it comes to beautiful things. Not like my eyes, which are only accustomed to the dirt and grease of machinery.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop grinning, while you start talking with the salesman about the bracelet you’ve given them to restore. They make you sit and wait for a couple of minutes, all of which you spend trying to not spy on them. Fortunately, the shop is quite crowded, and their conversation is a part of the low grumble. A cup of tea is placed in front of you, as well as some new pieces they think you might like.

The one that catches your attention is not among them, however. It is a ring with a blue stone, the tone too similar to something you can’t put your finger on. It is too big to be for a woman, clearly designed for the other sex, but you admire its elegance nonetheless.

“Here is your piece, Madame.” The young salesman returns with a package, just in time to stop you from reaching it.

“Thank you.” You take the precious item back into your hands and inspect the handwork. It is shining once again, polished, and the place you accidentally broke it is now attached, the handwork barely visible.

You release a deep breath, praying graces. You would’ve never forgiven yourself if the family heirloom was forever damaged from the incident. You almost cried when it happened, a stupid game you were playing with Carolina before a ball, when you had already gotten ready and she was counting the minutes to her bedtime.  

“That is beautiful.” Obi Wan joins you once more, now looking more relaxed. Your eyes search for Anakin and find him waiting for a package, reaching for his wallet. Mission accomplished. “May I?”

The chain slides into his hands, and wraps around your wrist under the watch of the young boy with a wholesome smile. He must think you two are engaged in some way, and there’s no turning back from it.

“Would that be all, Madame?”

“Actaully I-“ You remember about the ring, and even if you just want to unravel the mystery around it, the words have already left your mouth, and the entire tray is placed on the table.

Oh. Oh. With him next to you, suddenly it all makes sense. You’re holding the color of his eyes on your palm.

“That is beautiful too.” He remarks, embracing his role a little too much.

“I think it would suit you.” Now it is your turn to accessorize him. He is silent while you do so, taken aback by the unorthodoxty of it all.

“I’m not sure-“ Is all he manages to say, though can’t stop looking at it. It is ridiculously so well fitted around his finger, the fate pulling all strings to give a message.

“It compliments your eyes.” You defend yourself, perhaps a little too lively but you have no shame. It is the truth.

“The Lady is correct.” The boy joins your side, or does his job. “It is a most excellent match.”

“I might think about it.” Is how far he budges, returning it, and checking up on Anakin from where he’s standing. 

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, allow me-“

The audacity? The though is reflected in your face, which makes him blush at his unnecessary offer.

“With the ring.” You add, and it is all said and done ‘til he has time to get rid of his embarrassment and intervene.

Then, you make him take the package from you, your fingers wrapping around his. “You’re allowed to have nice things, you know?” There’s not an ounce of sarcasm in your tone, only gentle suggestion. “You don’t have to wear it, but I want you to have it.”

“Thank you.”  

And you’re gone before Skywalker can catch up.

===

You truly don’t expect to see him wearing it, you really don’t.

But you’re proven wrong so, so badly.

He doesn’t take it off.

When he takes on his promise, and actually starts working on the ball he’s supposed to throw, the first thing he does is request for your uncle’s help. Then your uncle entrusts the job on you, and you’re spending hours with him like that, securing the musicians, bargaining for the food supplies, preparing invitation lists… Truly, that’s it. You too are surprised to accompany him that much and engage in nothing outside of the mission. Truthfully, a little concerning in the grand scheme of things, the inevitable result of your relationship improving, real sincerity. Although you have zero problems with the fact, enjoying it far too much. You don't care about how your contributions are secret, for your efforts surpass the limits of help that are considered friendly, and fully acknowledge that it is gonna be a damn good ball. 

Also, while you hate to see him distressed, it is a look on him that you are guilty of adoring. The nervousness is like a little crack in his shell, a way to see a part of him that rarely sees the daylight. And it is for something so feeble? Only half of his effort would be enough for a wonderful ball, and he still tries to do more, and gets agitated over that? You are cruel for laughing at that, you confess. But it is more of a balancing act, rather than a mock. Somebody's gotta play the sane part, lower the tension. 

You're ready to help with that, too.

“Do you think I should hire-” 

You're at his study, the place you've been sitting since the morning. Time flies with every cup of tea, and plates of biscuits, but after a while, things inevitably get boring. For you, at least. He's quite focused, brows scrunched, tie slightly loosened. You see him looking at the list that you've put together in the beginning, the possible ways to entertain his guest. 

You've already arranged the services of more than half of them. Twice the amount that would be considered enough.

And he's still going over it?

“That's enough!” Your open palm lands on the surface. 

Obi Wan doesn't expect your outburst. He doesn't flinch, but his mimics change in an equivalent way. His lips part, causing him to relax that clenched jaw -oh, you might have a point. 

“You. Need. To. Relax.” You’re now less frantic, due to his irresistibly clueless expression, though still firm in your cause. Fuck, how can he look at you with those doe eyes and expect you to… do anything! 

You get up, and reach for the papers, sending them in a far corner of the desk. While you do so, you are basically halfway in between him and the table. Putting the teacups and the pot back on the tray (it has grown cold a long time ago), you turn to him, almost sitting at the desk in order to fit that narrow space. The bashful smile on his face (as if he wasn’t enjoying the perfect view of your ass seconds before) breaks your heart once more.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you mirror his emotion. “It’s gonna be a splendid night. The kind that people will talk about it for years. And I’m not exaggerating on that one. I would’ve said the same thing days ago, all before the last additions, too.”

It is a challenge to feel the warmth of your skin, and not lean against it. “You’re right.” He tugs on his collar, taking a deep breath. “But you know- I’ve never planned a ball in my life, and- I just need it to be perfect.”

You giggle, and replace your hand on his cheek that is colored with the confession of his little perfection obsession. You welcome the slight sting of his beard, like a habit, and caress his cheekbone. He dares not move, or even take a breath, only watching your pretty face focused on his, and relish the feeling of your thumb across his features.

“It’s going to be just that.”  You might’ve said, or a joke about his troubles, but words scurry off of your mind as you stay like that, squished in place as you try your best to comfort him.

“Can you kiss me?” The thought seems lunatic when uttered on a whim, but it has crossed your mind too, you must admit. 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” There's an undeniable urge to use his words back at him. 

Your back has to bend in an uncomfortable way for your lips to touch, but you have no complaints about it. The touch is so soft, laden with affection in the purest kind. It is obvious in every way, the movement of your mouths, determined to preserve the sweetness and sweetness alone, and the itch in your palms, mapping each other out over and over again, and the determination of your lungs, using every last drop of oxygen before demanding an exchange. 

“T-thank you for that, dear.” His eyes open after a few seconds, with a sheepish smile that causes him to speak in whispers.

It’s about to get real dangerous for you, if he keeps being this cute. 

“I’m not about to say we should've done it sooner, for it is a complete waste of our time repeating a truth well known, and I've already used that trick before, but maybe we should do it again.” 

Okay, but how does that kind of sass sound cute from your perspective?

“Don't push your luck.” You say, fingers smoothing his hair, and his complaint dies on his throat visibly. He purrs, eyelids closing. That's the moment you decide to press a small peck to his lips for all his troubles. It lasts longer than intended, and while it's definitely different than the previous one, him gripping your waist telling a different story. The weight of them is welcome nonetheless, and it serves as an anchor, like you two could be molded into a statue if he held it long enough.

However, he is the one to break the stillness, shifting in his chair- first of all, how dare he, you're doing the acrobatics here-

Oh.

He notices that you've noticed it. Clearing his throat, Obi Wan lets his hands slide to the table, just a centimeter away from your body. “It’s been some time.” His face remains focused on the floor.

Didn't he even take care of himself?

You push his shoulder back, and he takes it a step further without a blink, sliding away with his chair. 

What he doesn't expect, is for you to stay exactly where you are, only this time on your knees. He has to gulp once, then twice, because he finally looks at your face, smiling back at him. 

“May I help?” Admittedly, your fluttering gaze was unnecessary, and tips him even more. You don't miss the way he stabilizes his hands.

“By all means.” 

You start by unfastening the buttons of his tan trousers, letting your forearms rest on his thighs. He aids your quests by lifting his hips a little, being freed from the constraints of the fabric-

There he is.

You bite your lip at the sight, and the sight is not just his huge cock, already hard and weeping for you. It is about him, and the redness that creeps up his neck, the way he hisses and bites his knuckles at the cool air hitting his sensitive skin, how he claws at the armrest waiting for your touch. His head nearly hits the back of the chair when you finally do, a small moan leaving his exposed throat.

Well. You really should’ve done this sooner.

Your thumb swirls around his head, more fluid leaking out as you do so. Thus your fingers slide down his shaft easily, and he is coated in his slick in no time, along with your palm. It twists around him without rush, leaving him to wander in that dream like state without mentioning a finish line. You want to ask him, ask him how he likes it, or make him cover your hand with his, guiding you, but you also want him to stay just like this, eyes fixed with that heavy lidded gaze, partially obscured by that infamous strand of hair that refuses to be tamed like others. His mouth hangs open with loud breaths and sometimes graces you with sounds of his pleasure.  

“Harder.” The only instruction you need.

You clasp tighter and shudder like him, taking pride in your work. He can feel the strain in his muscles fading second by second, the problems in his mind are plucked out one after the other, replaced by your soothing words you repeated constantly for days at this point, and expert hands, creating the same effect on his body.

“Like this, Lord Kenobi?” You require you still acquire his opinion, a feedback, and his title rolls off of your tongue unintentionally. Honestly, there’s no explanation you can make even to yourself, but you are already over it as his cock twitches under your palm, and his groan fills the room.

“Y-yes. You’re doing- so good.”

That must be some sort of karma, for he is above the concept of revenge, but you’re left with an itch to grind your legs together at his praise. If you do that, you’ll probably feel your wetness smearing all over your skin, you’re sure of it.

And you’re determined not to be distracted.

Your other hand joins the game too, starting to massage his balls. That makes him tense under you for a moment, but the tension dissolves quickly, leaving him dizzier.

“Fuck-“ Even the simplest swear word sounds hypnotizing on his lips, “you’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

Like you had any intention to do that.

On the contrary, your intentions evolve in the direction after his words, perhaps even a little bit further. You lean in and lick a stripe up his length, the tip of your tongue dancing around his head, fully tasting him, before you take him to your mouth fully.

His hand flies up, shaking as it comes down, held back by the strongest of wills from delving into your hair. Instead, it inches closer to your cheek, and returns to the position before (because he may have just lost five years of his life feeling the way you swallow him), half-stabilized over the armrest. His head rolls back once more, unashamed to release his moans with your every move. The most sinful one comes out when you use your throat, gagging around his thickness. You repeat it, and he whimpers, earning an equal sound from you too.

This time, you don’t have to ask him anything. The eye contact as you recover your breath, and continue to stroke him tells you everything you need to know, tells how much he enjoys it.

“Please- darling-“

You don’t try to choke on him again, but keep a rhythm with your tongue and your palm. He reaches climax quickly nonetheless, throbbing in your mouth and coating it white. Obi Wan feels sorry for not warning you, a sense of guilt rising alongside that pleasure, but it once again came over with lust as you gulp it down without a blink. He even fears he might go hard in a second, against all the rules of nature. You provoke that in all ways possible, pressing small kisses to his shaft, occasionally licking it, and letting your head rest on his thigh.

“Thank you.” It is so out of place to say that for this kind of act, but it is the sentence that is spoken, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome, my Lord.” Thankfully, you raise your gaze just in time to miss the way his cock moves. You straighten your back and throw your shoulders back, stretching like you’ve just woken up.

So cute and so filthy.

“I’d like to return the favor.” He says, the action fueled only by his kind and generous soul.

“Some other time.” Your smile reflects the acknowledgment, not mocking his advances. “I am expected from home.”

“Ah, pity. Send my regards to your family.” He can’t help but feel envious of them. Do they know to treasure your company, not take a second of it for granted? Do they know what you did to him, before joining them? Would they be as accepting as ever, aware of your scandalous affairs?

Of course not.

But even then, you’d deserve much better than what they would treat you like. Your courage alone is enough to make the world bow down to you.

And what if your family means something other than your blood, your relatives? What if it was a stranger, a man undeserving, but had you to himself every night, when you returned home from your daily activities? A lucky fool who had the blessing of knowing you’d be by his side soon, every damn day.

His fingers turn into fists as you clean yourself up, so pretty in your ignorance to his gaze, brows slightly furrowed as you smooth out the wrinkles on your dress.

“Shall do.” And with your cheery voice, he doesn’t even notice his grip is unclenched.

===

Red isn’t his color. Some say it suits him well, that the stark contrast is eye-catching, but he doesn’t like to carry it. At this point of his life, it’s not even about his clothing choices, he prefers anything over that pigment in every possible scenario; the sheets, the carpets, the flowers… He makes a point of avoiding that powerful color.

Not today, though.

He has no word over how you dress and for once, tries very hard to stay neutral, not verbalize his choices when you mention the outfit you’ll be wearing in his ball, and it is a successful endeavor. (Knowing you and your stubbornness, it would probably only damage the bond between the two of you, something you’ll quip for years, or God forbid, keep you from attending at all.)

In the end, you wear it, and he ends up where he doesn’t want to be. Drowning in that bloody cloud. Without remorse, for the first time in his life.

For once, he finds himself chasing after it, taking joy in its liveliness, surrendering to the dangerous promises it makes. Your presence brings energy to every room you enter. The candles seem to burn brighter, and the warmth in his chest is not solely a result of both of your accomplishment of the spectacle. Obi Wan smiles ear to ear, eyes almost closed because of it, and he wants nothing more than to dance with you all night long, bury his hands in that expensive fabric and feel the burn in your cheeks, painted with the same color. He doesn’t even mean it in a perverse way. He wants to celebrate the payoff of your efforts, let the pride be felt, and enjoy the treats like all the guests, or even more than them (it would be more than fair to do so), together.

Alas, the society you both live in isn’t the type to accept such things. In order to not taint the event with the bitterness reserved for that principle, he doesn’t ask for more than six dances, or follow you around the saloon like a lost puppy. While it is never enough, he counts and cherishes the accidental eye contacts, and your hands holding his in dances, or the different circles you ran into each other and have snippets of various conversations. He accepts every compliment with your name tied behind his tongue and feels relieved with each passing hour, realizing how perfect everything is going, thanks to your pieces of advice and restrictions. He is light as a feather underneath all those layers he had to put on for the evening, without the pressing intention of taking it all off as soon as possible.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and here comes the other side, halfway through the night, the prejudice he had returning sinisterly.

He does a decent job of suppressing his jealousy, for all the purposes he’s thought of before. He can glance over when you dance with a stranger, or two, ricocheting on the stage and putting on a show for everyone. He chooses to admire the beauty you’re radiating, shining like a rose after the rain. It keeps him occupied for a while. But when an hour passes and you’re not even looking at his general direction, way too engulfed in your conversation with them, he feels a distaste rising in him. The red bleeds into his heart, poisoning him. It slowly takes over, and by the time you throw your head back with a burst of laughter that echoes in the room, he’s entirely filled with it. His hands twitch with every dream of ripping the source of that poison from your skin in a cove meant for just the two of you, away from all the vultures that eat and drink and savor his doings and yet ready to crucify him at his slightest flaw.

Obi Wan is one step away from sending everyone to their homes when you escort that man to the garden. Honestly, the only reason he doesn’t is because you return in a minute or two, the tip of your nose giving away all he needs to know- it’s chilly.

And he didn’t even give you his jacket?

On the second thought, it’s best that he didn’t, because then Obi Wan wouldn’t even bother to get rid of the crowd to have his way with him.

“Lord Kenobi.” You manage to catch him alone, on the balcony. He’s up there to calm his nerves, over you, unbeknownst to you. Unfortunately, his progress is lost the second he hears your voice, and it is truly an effort to act otherwise.

The night is on the brink of ruin for him, and it doesn’t have to be that way for you. This is why he tries so hard.

“I must congratulate you on this beautiful ball. It is a night to remember.”

“Don't say it like the honor doesn't belong to us both.”

You shrug, as if whisking all the credit away. But your eyes twinkle with pride. 

“I haven't had this much fun in ages,” You chirp,  “I would've begged for another one already, if I hadn't witnessed the toll it took on you.” He covers his face at the mention of the state he has been in for the last couple of weeks. “Oh God, don't.” 

“Oh God, you just didn't expose yourself like that! When will you start enjoying this?” Your laugh is a hidden giveaway of how many glasses you had tonight. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed for those who may inquire.” Your lips. Wrapped around his cock. Mapping out his neck. Keeping his secrets.  “Remember that every word that comes out of my mouth is said by a person who attended all types of feasts all over the continent for a decade now. I grew up around these circles.” Shrugging, you add. “Perhaps that was my undoing.”

“Undoing? I could never call you “undone”.” Ironic, how you make him forget about before and continue to concern him with totally different subjects.

“You’re right.” Thoughts come out a little slow, but your effort is evident on your face. “I just had too many opportunities to start over in new places, experience everything that I was curious about, and that all led me to discover exactly what I liked, what I wanted from life.”

“How’s that a bad thing?” 

“I’m not willing to let that go anytime soon.” You can’t help but notice that it sounds like some sort of prison of your will, but that’s not a discussion you can have tonight. “Anyways, Obi Wan. I must be going now, just wanted to pay my compliments and wish you good night.” 

“I thought you’d stay the night-“Well, that’s definitely not the case, “But it is so early?”

“You know our houses are not so close, any later than this and I’m going to fall asleep on the road out of habit.”

Yeah, that’s why he thought it would be perfectly reasonable for you to stay over. 

“I see.” And he wishes he had gone blind and deaf. “Then, allow me to bid you good night, my Lady.” 

He takes your hand, placing a kiss you can very much feel despite the fabric. What he doesn’t expect, is for you to press your palm against his chest in return, because he doesn’t know of the urge you have to not leave. It is a split second of override, before you can command your feet to move again, blissfully unaware how tender that moment was.

===

A day. A full day. That’s how long he can refrain from seeing you. Funny, the meetings have become a habit for him, and although he needed you back then, he needs you more now, for completely different reasons, and you’re not there that morning- and why would you be? There’s no arrangement that demands your assistance anymore. Your praises are all said and done, and if to be repeated, it wouldn’t certainly be a matter that required urgency for you to show up at his door.

And maybe, you have other places to be, other doors to knock. Perhaps you’d enjoy a change of air.

So, he has come to yours.

Naboo. Aldreaan. Correlia. The cities churn in his mind, alongside your image in every one of them. The flowers in your hand as you roam the fields of Naboo, the coat that doesn’t do much for the redness on the tip of your nose while you lodge in the mountains of Alderaan. The exquisite jewelry you wear to a Correlian masquerade, outshining every debutante in the room. He imagines the people hypnotized by your presence (what can they be, other than blessed), or you gliding among them (after all, discretion was your powerful suit). And the worst of all, he thinks of the man escorting you, claiming their dances, bringing you a glass of their rare wines, walking with you in the natural scene, their savage arms around you, their hands groping your curves, pulling sweet sounds from you.

(No, the purpose of his visit was not that. )

He invites himself in from your open balcony, catching you as you start your nightly routine. You’re taking off your hairpins, when he does the courtesy of knocking on the glass, startling you just a little. You jump, but thankfully do not scream, the reflex somehow suppressed. Truth be told, it’s not because your shock actually dwindles. If anything, it is redirected into a different question, going from “What the fuck was that?” to “Why the fuck is he here?”

“Good night, darling.” He gestures for you to sit again, and you do, returning to your chair in front of the vanity. Your head has to crane in a strange way for you to see him, but thankfully, he comes closer and solves the problem, eyes meeting through the mirror. And his face lights up as he sets foot in the room, like he too has forgotten everything but this moment, his jealousy and desperation left behind the walls. That’s how the question of “What are you doing here?” is not immediately articulated.

 Instead, you say, “Good night, Obi Wan.”

“I see I managed to visit you just in time.” Look at him, fixing his beard, laughing nervously. He just climbed to the second floor, and his heart only got racing now.

“Lucky you.” Honestly, you don't think there's a “wrong time” in his perspective, at least when it comes to you. A few minutes later, and he'd see you in your nightgown. Would that deter him from setting his foot in here? Most, most, most likely, no. Don't dwell on that thought, though. “And what do I owe the pleasure?” You try not to focus too much on the fact that you have him and your bed in the same frame, through the reflection. 

“I thought I would see you today.” Is that sarcasm in his tone, or a little bit of self-humiliation?

This must be some sort of a Shakespeare play, right? 

Oh my God, it is. 

“Ah.” You fiddle with your hairbrush, the eye contact broken, your attempt to stop any matter from escalating this night. Any matter. Not that you had any questions when it came to his morals, he probably was the one person you’d never doubt, but in terms of his intentions to be here tonight startled you in a much different light. “I slept in late today. Didn’t even leave the house.”

Oh. That makes quite the sense.

“Actually I still feel a little bit exhausted.”

“That’s because you had too much fun without me last night.” A treacherous scoff falls from his lips as he shakes his head. The moment that the tides turn. The one that brings back all the crude questions.

“What? No? What do you mean?” For all your effort to remain calm, you look alarmed, that tired face with doe eyes showing it all, and he feels sorry for a second, troubling you over his overthinking ass.

Then, he spots the bracelet you wore last night, lying haphazardly over a piece of paper on the corner of the table. It looks very much like a letter.

It’s not hard for him to advance his speculations.

“I think you know it already.”

“Obi Wan.” You twist to actually face him, your arm on the back of the chair. “Why are you here?”

He takes a few steps back, as if the air is stolen from the short distance between the two of you. He runs a hand through his hair, undisturbed by its messy result. You can see him biting into his cheeks, trying to select the right words. In the end, all that effort seems unnecessary, because when he speaks, the sentence can’t be any simpler. “Who was the man you spent an hour with last night?”

Wincing, you take a few seconds to process. It’s not about the answer, but his motive, his audacity that irks you. You stand up and speak. This time, your voice is sharp as ice. “That’s none of your business.”

He blinks a few times, so sure of his righteousness, and determined. “You were in my house, at our ball, dancing and talking with strangers and not even glancing in my direction for the better half of the night. I think it’s some of my business.”

“I was by your side for much longer than it is acceptable, Kenobi, do I need to remind you? We danced six times and greeted the majority of guests together.” You’ll not let the truth be ignored. “Any longer than that and there would be rumors all over the society today, and even I would’ve heard about it despite staying here all day. I didn’t come this much by pushing boundaries at every fucking chance I get. I picked my battles, the thing you seem incapable of.”

“So, am I to understand, this thing between us,” The look on his face dares you to deny the existence of it, “is not worth picking?”

This is the possibility that scared you. And for good reason, it seems. You close your eyes, in order to not roll them, and purse your lips. He uses the moment to reach for your arms, like he could appeal for an answer from you. “Don’t you love what we have?”

You couldn’t feel any worse under the warmth of his hands, affection pouring out of them despite the rage in him. “I love what we had.”

“Had?”

“It’s obvious that we can’t keep doing this, is it not?”

Confusion leaves its place to anger once more, for all the wrong reasons and his face darkens. “Oh, I see. You secured yourself a new entertainment, and now you have to get rid of the old one.”

You shrug out of his hold, distancing yourself from him. The source of the problem is not what he claims it to be, and it infuriates you, along with the accusations he taints you with.  “Don't you dare reflect your own degeneration on me like that! It’s not about my damn cousin’s damn friend, it’s about you!” It is nearly a scream, the highest pitch that wouldn’t grab attention. Still, reflectively, you turn your head to the door, which you had luckily locked. “Leave now, you bastard!”

Honoring the part he was assigned in that theatre play, he focuses on the wrong part of the words, the crumbles of information giving him hope, and dim his doubts. “So there's nothing between you and him?”

Seething, you are red with fury, taking a sharp breath, pointing your finger at him like a gun. “Get. Out.” 

“Is there?” 

Your tongue is determined not to let him hear your words, despite the truth in them. It will not lead to any good. 

But so will his closeness.

When did he get so close? 

The moment you look into his ocean eyes, the decision to say anything is deemed impossible. The decision to do anything, actually. His arms cage you against the cluttered table, and yours end up on his chest, though without any intention of pushing him away.

“Answer my question, and I will.” 

How could you? How can you be able to resist his utmost sincerity, the desperation in his behaviors and the brutality of his words contrasted in the way he looks at you, the caging without actually touching you. Your suffocation is only a result of your inner turmoil, the desire to spit out the truths, clear his heart and give in to the love he's handing out, but terrified of the places it will take the two of you.  

“I’m waiting, darling.”  You can’t help but watch his perfect lips move, his voice licking your skin. 

You gulp, an action he doesn’t miss, and dares to laugh at it. Obi Wan can see the exact moment your gaze returns to being that of an eris, though the flames remind him of a different time.

A very different time. 

“I hate you.” It is perhaps the most childish thing you’ve ever said in years, and it shows. 

So, that’s his cue to kiss you.

For all your claims, still, he doesn’t miss the small moan you let out, swallowing it with pride. Your soft lips move against his like a habit, anticipating every move and the next, a choreography you both know all too well  albeit in a much swifter tempo. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer but his stay in the same spot, afraid to disturb you, though gripping the edges hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Though, when he tugs at your bottom lip, asking for more, you grant him that, your tongues joining the dance. You whimper, the action triggering your inhibitions to loosen up, like each second wipes the doubts away. It is a sugared water, only serving to increase the thirst instead of quenching it. So you don't stop drinking it.

Not til you absolutely have to.

“No, you don’t.” 

Two seconds have to pass for you to understand his response. With his breath still warming your cheeks, even brushing them with his nose, yes he dares now, the statement is the undeniable truth.

However, not that you're ready to admit it. He already knows too much, all the things you like, all your weak spots, all of your soul.

“Yes, I- oh” And he's not the one to endure your lies. His fingers delve into your scalp, putting traction into your hair ‘til you have to tilt your head back to release the tension, forcing you to look at him through your lashes. Still, eye contact is not what he seeks, for he has as much a chance of getting lost in it as you. He uses the expanse of skin you offer, and dives in for that specific spot that has your legs going limp. It has two consequences: Firstly, you are stuck between him and the table, the latter supporting you too little that the weight rests almost entirely on his body, every plane of him touching yours. Secondly, the angle puts the mirror in the corner of your sight, and you have a maddening view of what’s happening. It is enough to make old ladies screech and faint, and artists to slave to immortalize the scene.  

“You’re a bastard.” You murmur the last bit of objection, solely for the object of throwing it out of the tip of your tongue. He hears, though quite unbothered, the retort to break you further leaves his mouth readily.

“Call me whatever you want, dear, you’re the one begging for it.”

Of course, you only pant in return. Even when he threatens to nip and bite at the sensitive nerves, you don’t stop him. Furthermore, your calf twists around his as much as it is able in that impossible posture. An invitation.

“And what else would you let me do to you? Would you let me take you to your bed?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please Obi Wan- take me”

That’s a sentence straight out of his dreams.

The second your feet touch the ground, both of you gather the ends of your dress, yanking it out to throw it haphazardly on the floor. Your stays and chemise follow the same fate, then it is his jacket and shirt. He taps on your thigh, like he would let you walk the five meter distance between there and the bed, you jump, a little shakily (not that you ever had questions about his strength). Fuck, it excites you how easily and softly he lands you on the edge of it. You reach for his trousers, but he stops you and urges for you to scoot back, and lay down.

Because that’s the best way he can rid you of your shoes and stockings.

Your knees stick together as he works on one foot, and the other. The shoes drop with a loud thud, making you bite your lip, close your eyes for a moment and pray nobody investigates. It’s no wonder that after that small break, your pupils meet once more. How ironic that it is the cause of your concern, and the only solution.

You can feel his fingertips skimming the top of the only clothing left on you. While the touch is stimulating enough, it is the fact that you have to spread your legs a little to allow him to undress you, giving him a view of your wet pussy.

Nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but that doesn’t affect the way you tremble.

Throwing your head back, you let him slide the stretchy fabric down. Slowly. Like his piercing gaze isn’t enough. You’re squirming by the end of it, all thoughts of getting him out of his outfit gone (-or delayed, should you still believe yourself.)

Thankfully, he takes care of it, the sounds of his buttons unfastened echo in the room. 

Though he has no rush to join you. 

You turn your face to search for what's taking him so long, a whine in your throat when he kneels. That's unlike him. 

You feel cold without his body looming over yours. And he has a hard time not to do that, not falling for the flush of red and your hard nipples. Especially when you're so gone that you may come undone just from that.

He'd like to see that. 

But he has to make you understand how you keep him in that state, ignorant of his troubles, even as the solution is obvious and wanted by both sides, however the other can't accept it out of simple stubbornness.

Thus, he plays the deaf now, as he grips the supple flesh of your thighs, squeeze and move as he pleases, exposing your core to air while he busies himself with other parts. He claims you with his lips, mapping out, pushing you down to the mattress every time you jolt because he’s so close just a little to the left- But perhaps the worst is his vulgar taunts, whispered, to himself mostly, a way to speak out the anger.

“Are you this wet for all the men you hate?”

“No.” You cry, not able to stand the accusations. “It’s you.”  And it is the truth. There are no other men on the planet that you would bear being treated like this by, or attempt to change their opinion of you. But now, you need him to know that. You can’t imagine a future with his back always turned to you, or be subject to his very much forced small talk with empty, or worse, hatred filled eyes. It is a reveal of a side of you that you had to keep hidden and downplay, to be free at the end of the day, give both of you an opportunity to walk out, but it doesn’t matter if the said fallout leaves his judgment of you sour. You care about his perception, and would do your best to change it should it be mixed with lies. Truth, and nothing less, is what he deserves.

A wave of relief floods his heart, that simple answer is all he wishes to hear. There’s also a bit of rage, for knowing you’d never admit it in any other circumstance. Alas, the smile appearing on his face is unstoppable. Even as he finally begins to eat you out.

A moan leaves your mouth at the first contact, which is nothing more than a small kiss. That bad, uh? As he licks everything he can reach, it turns into a whine, because it is evident he has no concern about making you cum quickly, or in a normal amount of time. He just continues to do whatever he was doing before, exploring every nook and cranny, and marking, like he intends to commit this moment to his memory. It may not have been his first time, (or the second), but he’s doing it for himself now, your desperation sadly not a priority. You also suspect he’s doing it to drive you mad, using his previous experience and remembering how sensitive you got when his beard rubbed against your skin.

“Obi Wan-“ Your back arches, a hand reaching for his hair. He stops it all by jostling your legs with a hold that could leave imprints. It takes half of your willpower to stay in the place he put you in, and that means you only have the other half to process the indescribable pleasure he’s giving. It is gonna be fast, whether he plans it or not.

“Could you actually throw this away? How can you pick anything else over this?” You knew it would be a hard transition. The magic he created is haunting and ready to jump on you in those dark corners, even after many years. There is no cure for ghosts, after all. The thought now seems impossible, the last thing that could cross your mind. Simply impossible. He emphasizes by nudging your clit, every single movement forcing a sound out of you. “That's right. I’m going to remind you how good we are together, make you feel so good that you'll forget anything but us.” 

The passion in his words scares you, but it would be a lie to say they don't excite you in some way, making your heart flutter in your chest at his devotion and to be able to still feel safe only supported by the honest bond you two have. You chant his name as he smothers himself in your folds, sucking and flicking your raw bundle of nerves. He loves to feel you twitch when you are overwhelmed, but not enough to climax. 

Then, he scrapes your clit with his teeth, and you're gushing, head thrown back, a silent scream in your mouth. The hot lava inside you doesn't cool down, paying its visit to every part of you, making stars explode behind your eyes and body trash against the sheets. To be perfectly honest, he didn't expect this much either, his strong muscles tightened to keep you from closing your legs, a string of curses muttered at the obscenity of it all. As always, your bliss only augments his own, especially at the sight of your essence flowing out of you. He has to drink it all in. Thus, he doesn’t stop, unbothered by the subtle sway of your hips, or the slight tug at his strands. He has no objection to them, on the contrary, he would encourage them if he didn't have to abandon his task to say the words. The slow movements of his tongue create constant stimulation in your already delicate nerves. Your second orgasm crashes you like a clap of thunder, leaves you sobbing and shaking. It uses all the energy in your already spent muscles, wipes every argument from your mind and removes those troubling emotions from your soul. The interesting thing, is that you have no oppositions to the matter. Why would there be? Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Isn’t it better than a dream? You speak the truths, and he worships you. You pay him the respect he deserves, and he tries to honor it in every chance. You don't complete his personality, you enhance it, and in return, he uses everything in his power to make your day better. 

It is not that simple, a voice speaks from the back of your head, but it's too silent to have an importance. 

Likewise, some of his ideas are dismayed just as easily. Pity. He had every intention of taking you from behind, not letting you get away before painting your ass red, and watch you crawl back to him still even when he teased you that badly, but you seem too gone, too weak to lift your hips up. And it is not a big deal anymore, because he's equally excited to have you like this, lying on your back, legs hugging his torso. Like your first time. The parallel is unintentional, but more than welcomed. How much and how little has changed since then? He leans in for a kiss, and fuck, your mouth is greets him too purely, like he's not covered in your slick. There's something more than lust that drives you, evident in the way you move, like you’re carving out a promise on his lips. The sounds that you produce are not in desperation, but gratitude, not weary of the periods of suspense but glad that it is over. His fingers travel the length of your abdomen, all blame on him for the coldness of your skin and the way you shiver. When he circles your nipples with his thumb, you sigh, and press yourself to him. 

“You take care of me like no other, Obi Wan.” You whisper as you cup his cheek. You should’ve told him sooner. It was the least you could do. 

He has no answer, and he doesn’t need one. Holding your wrist at the sides of your head angrily and meeting with your tongue is more than enough of an explanation, just like the one you made a little too late, beautiful controversies. You both are unaware of how your hips rub against each other, without hurry, ‘til his cock catches your entrance. Your breathing becomes erratic, considering you didn’t get a prep or had any in some while, and he’s big. 

“Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?” 

“I need you.” You almost wail, despite knowing it will be too much. It’s not about pleasing him, either, for these things are not given up as sacrifices, ever. What matters is that you’re together, and that is always good. “Please, I want you.”

Could he ever refuse?

He takes his time, relishing the surrender of your tight walls, and brave noises, replied with his own moans. Your pants are guiding as much as they are troubling, making him even harder. He swears he’s about to burst when you outright sob while he brushes your areolas. Your back raises, an attempt to get his fingers a little higher, and your eyelids flutter close with the movement.

Make no mistake, your face scrunched up in delight is a sight to behold, but he can’t compromise having your eyes closed, sparing him from that glossy, burning gaze you have when he tears you apart. He needs to see them lose all coherent thought, see those doubts fly away and light up with pleasure.

“Look at me, dearest.” Right, aren’t you more than acquainted with his most important wish? He pleads, the softest tone that spilled from his lips tonight. Your heart skips a beat although you’re not exactly capable of processing that information. Needless to say, you don’t oblige to his wish, not when you are so spent. 

Obi Wan groans, his hand flying up to turn your chin. At that moment, all fall silent. You get lost in his stormy eyes, and so does he. Though his cock twitches in your quivering channel, that’s not the point.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He blurts. Then, the other truths demand to be told too.  “I don't like the way they look at you. I don't like how they don't know how blessed they are by your presence. Shit, I hate it when they know it too. I hate to think those who got to memorize you this closely, even those you knew before me.” 

Even those you knew before me. “Obi Wan, you're-” 

“Crazy? I'll admit, I am crazy when it comes to you.” 

“I never-” You have to drown a whimper as he continues his deep, slow strokes, “asked for any of it.”

“Of course, dear. I know, I know it's not you, but them. But I can hardly stop myself from reaching out and pulling you out from their sigh. Or wrap my hands around you, let them see what we share. They wouldn't dare anymore, if they knew the lines you left on my back.” It takes an incredible amount of will not to thrust into you faster, with where his ideas lead him to. “Would you let me mark you from the inside?”

Fuck, why does his words make their way into your heart without ringing those alarm bells you have ready at all times? How does he move past them so easily? 

Or do you let him, and take those rings as a cheery tune of his nearing presence, and not a warning as they must be?

“Yes!” The feeling of him finishing anywhere but in you suddenly sounds so disgusting. You want his warmth, even though you're burning already. 

His lips find yours, kissing you so hard that you'd thought he wanted to silence you. But surely, you know better, that's definitely not the case. You get to drink his sweet moans as his hands envelope you further (like it's possible). In return, he's right there to swallow your gasps, the proof of how you push yourself for him. The rest of the world stops, the urge to fill your lungs no longer necessary, nothing but the rhythm you've created, and clouds you've climbed on. 

He senses your peak before you do and gives you a brief space to breathe, praises falling from his lips that you can't hear, as you shake and let out whimpers, quite loud, for you've grown used to him muffling them. He follows suit, not able to resist your walls clamping down on him, painting your insides with a heavenly moan. 

It takes a second for both of your bearings to return, for the night to evolve into a chilly summer night it was simply meant to be. The coldness is especially remarkable as sweat cools down. A towel wipes them rather quickly, but it's never as warm as having the other around. Your usual remedy, a nightgown, is no use either, even if he helps you put it on. It is such a whiplash that makes you question everything about the last hour. You're left with burning cheeks as he collects your clothes from the floor, hanging them on the divider, then his- but he does the same to them?

“What are you doing?” You croak, a minute of silence for your vocal cords. “I don't cuddle.” That's a harsh sentence, but it's the truth.

“And I don't leave the person I love in the middle of the night to freeze.” He's holding a candle, the only lit candle in the room, and his face is illuminated beyond anything else and it could be said that he is the source of light. 

The person I love. His words break down the last resolve you have, and you're left to figure out how you feel about it as he kills the flame, and slides  into the sheets behind you. You'd think the sensation of his chest pressed to your back would keep you wide awake, but no, it's weirdly new yet familiar, enough to lull to sleep. Also, his scent is mesmerizing, and you never had it this close and constant. 

And for him, he had no trouble whatsoever from the start, but this is far better than expected, that he is sure he is living the best moment of his fate. The softness of you, in his arms, drifting into heavy dreams. It is a treasure for him to see that you can relax beside him, allow him to feel the regularity of breaths, showing your most natural self. 

But the morning is anything like the night.

You wake up from the orange lights of the rising sun, when he gently combs your hair out of your face. There's a fatigue in your muscles, alongside that sweet tinge of pleasure still lingering, making it all bearable. Your skin runs hot where he holds you, your back, your waist, your intertwined legs… The slight prickle of his beard is not pronounced when it's rolling on your shoulder, especially as it's followed by small pecks. He's unable to resist, your intoxicating smell pronounced in the cove of your neck, right under his nose. Only when he feels somewhat satisfied, and you seem a little more conscious, the tonus of your body increasing, he talks. 

You weren't ready for his morning voice.

“Good morning, love.” His hand rises to soothe the redness rising where his chin was pressed. Delicate all over. “I’m afraid I must get going, for both of us’ sake.” 

You give an affirming hum, and swiftly roll out. Your body betrays you without delay, a shiver seizing you, protesting the lack of his heat. You shake your shoulders, not so subtly but it's not like you can cringe. It is your band aid, and you're ripping it out. 

You reach for a robe and put it on rather easily for your questionable nerves and state of mind. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, you should really get going, Obi Wan.” Fuck, that sounds still more aggressive than you are, or you ever intended, a mirror of the storms in your mind. 

“What's the matter?” He's awfully quick to put on his trousers and come near you once again. He looks into your eyes, unobscured by your hair, and then there's that look of reveal on his face, the point of no return. He says your name, a final plead and a warning.

“You must leave soon.” This time, you’re a little softer, but it is nowhere near normal, considering what you shared.

“You think last night was a mistake.” He’s never sounded colder, and you have to focus not to bite your lip. The stern expression on his face is unbecoming of him, but it’s also a great reflection of his fidelity. Now, the other side of the coin shows itself, with his icy eyes and clenched jaw.

“I never-“ said that. Though, is there any possibility of you explaining what you feel? The doubts, the unfamiliarity of these feelings. Could you say, I’m not sure about this thing in between us, without creating the same effect of his claimed words?

There’s a second of silence, as he’s giving you one last chance to speak up. You know, you know that the moment you try, he’s going to break that heartless look, and put his loving hand out.

“For someone who thinks it was a mistake, you don't seem regretful at all.”

“Because it's not, and I don’t!” The confession is for him, but it is hard on you. But that doesn’t mean you’re willing to repeat it. “But it can become one. This has to stop. We can’t go further than this.”

“Why?” He’s trying his best not to raise his voice in this quiet, quiet hour.

“Because this is just- just an infatuation. It will go away. And to remember this time as a good one, we have to be careful, and we’re starting to lose that sense.”

An infatuation. That is the strangest insult he’s ever heard, but the worst nonetheless. An infatuation. The more he repeats the word in his mind, the more his anger grows, with a goal to show you otherwise.

“This is not what happened last night, and you know it.” He was as clear as day, and you honored that likewise. There was no lie. “If this is about you getting pregnant, I swear -”

“No, that's not it.” For once, you show something about the bond you have. “I have no concerns about you, or the whole society, should that happen. I’d even happily move away somewhere nobody knows my name and raise them.” 

Why is that option uttered, when there are far easier choices to make? “You’d rather build a new life than marry me?”

You remain silent once more, owning the coward you are. This is exactly why this wouldn’t work, anyways. He shakes his head, catching himself still thinking of ways to convince you, to work through the problem. He even thinks of walking out of the main door, and running into your father's study, forcing your hand in marriage.

You can see that thought play in his head as his gaze becomes fixated on the door.

"See. That's why.” You beg. “This is just an obsession, and you are maddened with it. You can't see reason, or listen to the sound of it, and I can't watch you make decisions like this. Is this how you actually want to treat me? Blackmail your way into marrying me?”

“So, this is what you think of me.” Blackmail. 

“No, Obi Wan, are you even listening to me?” You cover your face with your hands, a moment to recollect yourself. “Do you know when my next trip is scheduled?” 

Oh. You and your infamous life on the roads. 

“In three days. And do you know I already postponed it once?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we have very different lifestyles, and they are not compatible.”

“Or maybe, you are running from something so long that it has become a habit.”

“I do it because I like it. Because I promised people that I would see them before the end of autumn.” The latter part of your answer is not in your favor, but his, a product of overthinking. You discover that a little too late. He sees it too, along with the fragile curl of your lips, but doesn’t use it against you. Not anymore.

“I wish you a safe trip, then.” That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to regret your preferences, as he takes a step back, and dresses himself in a blink with perfection. It causes you to feel vulnerable, like his stoic face and impeccable outfit which somehow looks even more put together than yesterday, when he was helped to put it on, paints him like a statue of a Greek god who is putting you on trial.

A trial that you fail.

Yet, by not punishing you, he gives you the worst sentence: Incarceration with your conscience.

[valenthewhore]

ᒍᗩᑕKET

↳ Vince note: Y'all this was supposed to only be fluff- I have a problem...

↳ FT: GN!Reader x Luka

↳ Word Count: 2255

↳ Unrequited love mentioned (Felix), not edited- i wrote this at 3 am in the morning so there may be mistakes, Felix makes fun of Luka (internally)

↳ Playlists/Songs I listened to while writing: Autumn by Reinaeiry, Unrequited Hopeless Romantic, Hopelessly in Love Playlist

“And with that you are released for thanksgiving break- go see your loved ones-” your English teacher spoke with a tired, yet grateful for the break, smile. The class cheered as papers flew into bags and feet marched out the door. You rushed to fill your bag with your work, you had two hours before you were due in paris to celebrate your loved one. You were so happy to see him again you couldn’t hide the ever growing grin on your face. 

“Going to see Luka?” Felix said as he grunted slightly, placing his messenger bag over his shoulder, the same shoulder you were sure would give out with the amount of textbooks he carried in there. Hell if his shoulder didn’t break the straps of his bag sure looked like they were. 

“Of course-” You looked dreamingly into your bag of old school reports you couldn’t wait to discard once you went home, “We stayed on call all night…. He said he had a surprise for me” 

“Let me guess- A song?” Felix surprisingly chuckled at his tease.

“He’s just a dreamy mcsong boat Felix- You wish you could sing like he can-” you mimicked his chuckle slinging your own book bag over your shoulder, with a lot less struggle, and started for the door out.

“I don’t need to resort to cheap tricks like singing-” he followed after you only to be met with a slight shove as you both made it out of school, “Hey in my defense, I have ballet, fencing, I speak 8 different languages, and that’s just the beginning.” 

“Oh yes, all those wonderful things that have gotten you a significant other, oh wait- you’ve been single since I met you-” You teased with a striking smirk that only earned you an eye roll and a dismissive sigh. “I’m just saying if I wanted to, I have the means-” Felix justified. You both crossed the street opting for walking home rather than using his family car. The sweet England breeze washed over the both of you. It was slightly chillier. Autumn was here and it was the best- If only you hadn’t forgotten opted to leave your suit jacket home. 

Within moments a strangely familiar feeling glided over your shoulder, Felix didn’t look at you just straight ahead, “We’d hate for you to spend a week with your beloved with a cold-” He muttered slightly almost as if the word beloved hurt to say. You thanked him, your mind wandering to Luka again. You really didn’t want to have to spend the week locked up in the Grand Pierre Hotel sick and unable to see him. It was sort of nice of Felix to give you his jacket. 

The conversation shifted to meaningless things, as you both walked briskly to your place. You couldn't miss the train, Luka was waiting for you. You soon arrived back at your place and practically in a rush you said your goodbyes to Felix.

He could practically smell the excitement coming off you. Even though he personally could never understand why you would want to date a regular highschool kid who lived in a boat and only good quality was his music skills. The guy had no life fulfilling dreams like he had. Hell, he was pretty much sure Luka is what Americans called hippies- but nonetheless he was happy because you were happy….. Or that was what he kept telling himself. What he told himself when he didn’t remind you to give him back his jacket as you eagerly waved him goodbye as you rushed into your home. Knowing you’d realize sooner or later he sped-walked away from your home. 

You on the other hand watched from your window, his jacket in your hand, internally deciding you’d give it back when you came back. Not like he needed it- school was out for the week. You placed the jacket neatly over your desk chair and turned your attention to a half packed suitcase. It was just a week- You didn’t need so much… But you, being over-prepared, tried to fit all your clothes into a carry-on suitcase…. Bad idea. Your room was now littered with your clothes and you were stressed. Only two hours till the train departed and you still had to pack and actually get there. With no other choice you stuffed random clothes into the bag and was on your way. Giving your goodbyes to your parents, promising them they hadn’t made a mistake in letting you and that you’d be safe…

Even with the latest incident with Hawkmoth, your parents still let you go knowing you weren’t going to rest easy without seeing your beloved. And see him you did. It was as if the travel flashed right past you and you found yourself ditching your bag at the train station, arms stretched out and racing for Luka. Luka embraced you in seconds. It was like every cliche video on the internet of two-love birds reuniting. The embrace, the twirling, the joyful laughter, eyes prickled with tears of happiness. All that was missing is someone videotaping the interaction. Hell, Nadia Chamack would have deemed the both of you cutest couple in Paris if she saw you two that very moment. 

Only after what felt like an eternity did you remember your abandoned suitcase a few paces backward. Once it was all settled Luka’s hand found its home in yours and his lips on your forehead, placing a chaste loving and oh how much I missed you kiss on it. “I missed you too-” You smiled up at him gleefully, “Now you said you have a surprise?” 

“Of course- But I can’t dare say it now.” He leaned in closer to your ears, “It’s a secret surprise. You’re going to have to wait till the end of the week.” He pulled away with a shit-eating grin on his face as he looked at your shocked ones, “I promise it’s worth it-” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise Y/N” He sounded so sincere, so amazingly perfect, “Now- I do have other things planned for the week.” He began to list all sorts of date ideas you could spend the week doing as you made it to the Grand Pierre hotel, you have much rather stay at Luka’s but it was a requirement for going. 

Saturday was a date at the Place des Vosges. The both of you did everything from bringing a homemade picnic, courtesy of Juleka, to riding the merry go round till the little kids started crying they wanted a turn. In which you bought them balloons as a sorry all the while laughing till your stomachs hurt. 

Sunday  was a date at the swimming pool. Or at least it was supposed to be. Luka couldn’t swim… Your jaw slacked open as you stood in the water swim suit and all, and he was refusing to go any deeper. You couldn’t help but laugh at his embarrassed face for having to admit he didn’t know how to swim yet planned a date at the pool. Luckily Kim had been there to give him a few pointers and the date was salvageable when he did a couple strokes and you applauded in congratulations for him. 

Monday you did not want to go anywhere. You found yourself in the shower, then in sleepy time clothes, and somehow instead of lounging in your hotel bedroom you found yourself in Luka’s arms cuddled on his couch as the TV played some old 90’s romance movie that neither of you were really paying attention to anymore. It was like that till you had eventually fallen asleep and Luka in suit. By the time you did wake up you were met with a note from Juleka accompanied with a surprisingly well taken picture of both you and Luka. You were going to treasure this. 

Tuesday you found yourself enjoying a nice cup of hot coco on the deck of Liberty, a blanket carefully draped over your shoulders as Kitty Section played a softer tune than usual. Rose’s voice filled the boat with such melody it was like watching a disney movie. Luka’s striking blue eyes not leaving yours as he strummed his guitar softly for you and his friends. But mostly you and everyone could tell. 

Wednesday both of you decided going to the movie theater would be better than staying at his place. A few popcorn fights later you were both already out of the theater. Too much commotion they said. You didn’t even get past the credits.

Thursday he sat you down in his room. No one else was home. Just the two of you. You sat eagerly cross-legged on his bed facing him with a curious smile. He reached over to his guitar resting it above his own crossed legs. He started with a hum and a strum and it was then you knew what song he was playing. It was your favorite, and you had been obsessed with it the last few weeks and wouldn’t stop telling him about it. Your heart swelled and just as he finished it off he looked at you with so much adoration and love in his eyes you swore you were in some kind of heaven at the moment. 

Friday, the time was fleeting fast. By the next morning you were going to be home. Luka made a vow to make this last full day a memorable one. It started off with him picking you up from the hotel and not on his usual bike but in a rented out carriage that had one too many roses decorating it. You both rode around Paris, occasionally stopping and taking pictures to commemorate the day. You even stopped at Marinette’s for an on the house set of desserts.

As the evening came around the carriage pulled to a stop at the Pont Des Arts. You looked a little confused at Luka, to which he only smiled leading you to where an abundance, more than you could count, of lockets were attached to the bridge 

“Y/N- You mean so much to me… You are the song that I hear every morning. You are my muse. When I think of you.. When I’m with you I feel so much better. The music flows out of me like it has never flown before. You’re the one I want to talk to every day. The one I want to share my biggest even my smallest achievements with. And I want to hear about yours too… I want to keep learning about you. What makes you happy. What makes you sad. What makes smile that smile that makes me feel over the moon.” 

You blinked in surprise, your mind taking a second to process what was happening at this very moment. And he knew. He knew he was having that effect on you. The tell-tale smirk ghosted his lips as he pulled out a small padlock. It was nothing fancy. Decently sized and gray. The only thing that really stood out was both your initials carved onto the back. He pulled your hands toward him, opening your palms. His smirking confidence waning, as he placed the lock in your hand. His eyes barely meet yours. “Y/N I love you-”

Saturday morning came and you were not ready to leave. You didn’t want to leave. There you stood. The same place you were in a week ago when you first arrived. Only this time there were no joyus smiles, twirling, looking like the cutest couple in Paris. But hey you still got the tearful eyes part. A+. 

“Don’t worry Y/N, we’ll have more time together again soon. I’m still only a call away” He softly smiled cupping your cheek softly. You’re next school break wasn’t for another month or so. Leaving was always the hardest part…

“I know- I’m just not ready to leave yet.” You admitted lacking no shame. “I don’t want you to go just yet either-” Luka admitted as well pulling you into his warm pepperoni smelling embrace.

He pulled away for a second, “I heard England gets pretty chilly around this time-” He chuckled remembering all the times you would rage text him each time you forgot your sweater or jacket. “And it looks like yet again you are not prepared.” He slung off his dark blue jacket and put it on you with a satisfied sigh. You pulled him back into a hug as a thank you.  “Iloveyou-” You mumbled against him, hugging him tightly. Luka was overjoyed hearing those three beautiful words. They meant more to him than any song could ever hope to mean. He kept repeating your voice saying those three words as he watched you get on the train and waved as the train began the journey back to England. 

By the time you were home, the weekend went by pretty quickly. You made sure to clean Felix’s jacket despite having worn it for the entirety of 10 minutes. Just like clockwork Felix was outside your door by the time you made it out. His eyes widened in slight surprise before returning back to normal as you greeted him. 

“Thanks for the jacket Felix-” you handed him his. 

“It’s not a problem… the blue one you're wearing looks better at least now you remembered to wear one.” Felix said as you both started the walk to school. A flurry of giggles awakened in you, “Yeah- It’s Luka’s” 

Of course it was.

Taglist: @hangesidekick @straydestiny

Comment or send a message to become part of my taglist <3

[itgirlmind]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓂𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝓋𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓈 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ hello loves! autumn is nearly here, and I am taking this most cherished day to reflect on my favorite material items for the blessed season ahead of us! join me as I express gratitude for all that I do have, and all that I will come to hold in my life!

but before we start, let us start with a simple affirmation and a quick quip expressing the many joys of this moderate season!

♡ "I am so grateful for what I have and excited about what is yet to come"

♡ "I am grateful for the opportunity to align myself with peace, joy, and prosperity"

♡ "I always find a way, solutions and blessings always come to me in multitudes"

"the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves. we have had our summer evenings; now for October's eves!" - Humbert Wolfe, poet

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ these are a few of my favorite things

♡ my black patent leather Miu Miu platform heels; a beautiful pair of shoes that I am absolutely in love with. I am genuinely so blessed to be able to add another pair of my dream shoes to my collection!

♡ my GrandeLash eyelash serum; truly a lifesaver for natural beauties as I've heard too many horror stories of damaged eyelids from lash extension appointments to ever give in and schedule one, despite the strong temptation. what's better than an eye full of long, graceful, fluttery lashes? I admit, I haven't been nearly as consistent as I should be with this little bottle but I promise you the results are magnificent

♡ my glow recipe watermelon pink juice moisturizer; the cutest and best smelling moisturizer I've ever had the pleasure of owning! personally, I choose not to wear any skin makeup as I'm afraid of inducing an acne flare up but this moisturizer gives me the most radiant look a girl could ask for nonetheless

♡ my La Roche-Posay 60 SPF anthelios sunscreen; SPF is the most important skincare item you can possibly own! investing in your skin now and preventing damage from UVA and UVB rays will save you from so much stress in the future

♡ my new Mes Demoiselles Paris silk dress; my loves, I have been oh so obsessed with silk lately! it is the perfect material even as the weather turns nippy. I'm a bit conflicted as I want to wear it to attend thanksgiving dinner with my partner's family but I would hate to dirty it running around with the little ones as I simply cannot control my inner child when faced with a gaggle of smiling giggling toddlers terrorizing the yard

♡ my Its A Ten leave-in spray; particularly the blonde bottle! I've recently graduated from Olaplex to Its A Ten as my hair repair treatment of choice, mostly because Its A Ten rests much lighter on my hair and has a soft but sensational scent that hovers around you all day

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ what I'm looking forward to

♡ cooler weather and more opportunities to broaden my style

♡ my skin continuing to glow and look better and better the more I take care of it

♡ wearing my beloved vintage leather jacket again (thrifted, I pinky promise)

♡ knee high boots, tights, plaid skirts, and cute oversized sweaters

♡ the smell of burning leaf piles

♡ toning my hair to a cooler shade of blonde (bye-bye miss sunshine)

♡ lattes! lattes! lattes! being able to enjoy a toasty chai tea with oat milk cold foam first thing in the morning

♡ the feeling of defrosting when coming inside from the cold

♡ celebrating holidays with my partner and I's families

♡ pumpkin, cinnamon, and apple flavored everything

♡ wintering somewhere warmer (I promise I'll elaborate more later, my loves, once my plans are finalized)

♡ seeing the Christmas lights with my loved ones as we drive around (everyone here puts up their lights so early as they always have such elaborate displays)

♡ the warm tingly sense of joy as we get closer and closer to the holiday season

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ well, I'll be signing off here! below is a collage I compiled on the shuffles by pinterest app (I do implore all readers to pop by my personal pinterest to see if the aesthetics suit their fancy) of all of my October favorites!

Much love, Auden♡

[comfort-questing]

night and death and the rain are given (p5)

previous

Diluc didn't think he was hungry, but he did dimly realize he hadn't eaten since the night before, so he complied when Jean handed him a bowl of soup. It felt strange to be standing up and eating across from Jean at his messy desk in his room, but not a bad kind of strangeness - or else a less bad kind of strangeness than everything else that was happening.

"I can't stay long," Jean said, an elbow on the desk rim, soup bowl wedged between a paperweight and a book of maps. "I wish I could. But - "

"Of course." They needed her, back at the city, because she'd conditioned and permitted the Knights to run to her with every problem; and being Jean, she wouldn't leave them to inflict the consequences of their bumbling on the locals.

"You have to rest, sir, and you have to finish that soup, too." She narrowed her eyes at him just a little. "Take care of yourself for Kaeya's sake, if you can't do it for your own."

Ironic indeed coming from Jean, but Diluc said nothing, only nodded and mechanically took another spoonful.

"I'm staying," said Barbara from across the room. "Don't worry, Jean. I'll see to them both."

Diluc did not particularly like the sound of that last part. But Jean finished off her soup and put the last bite of crusty roll in her mouth far too quickly for his wishing, and stood up, with a quick press of her hand to his shoulder. "Send word if anything changes with him. Please."

He nodded again, not trusting his voice quite, and followed her to Kaeya's bedside. For the first time in long hours his foster-brother was sleeping peacefully, sweat-matted hair half-covering his eye and the eyepatch, his breathing slow and even despite the flush of fever along his cheekbones. He didn't stir as Jean bent over him, or touched her lips quickly to his forehead.

"Be strong, my captain," she whispered, just loudly enough for Diluc to catch the words. "Hold on. There are so many of us who love you."

And then, far too quickly again, Jean was gone, her boots and cane slow on the staircase and fading away below.

*

The afternoon wore on, in cloud-scattered sunlight and wind through the open casement, in drowsy moments of nodding off and snatches of song from Barbara, in endlessly patient attempts to drip water into Kaeya's mouth with a spoon or use a damp cloth to wipe his dry cracked lips. Diluc knew dimly that he should be busy with other matters too, from the sound of voices in the hallway and carts creaking in and out of the front courtyard. But he couldn't will himself to budge from where he sat for more than the fewest moments possible, and Elzer had taken one look at him on the staircase and told him kindly that he wasn't needed particularly at the moment anyway.

This was a lie, Diluc knew perfectly well. There plenty of was work he was needed for, and more work to do after that, which he was also needed for. But he was grateful for the mercy nonetheless.

Barbara fixed her eyes on him at one point when he'd returned with a fresh basin of water and asked, pointedly, "Has your heart been bothering you more these days, sir? Any dizzy spells? Fainting?"

"No - not much - not worth mentioning." He didn't like lying to Barbara, and it never seemed to work. "I'm fine, Barbara."

She tilted her head a fraction, gold curls bobbing.

"Make sure you're getting lots of water to drink and lots of salt," she said, "and don't stay out too long in the cold and damp now that autumn's here. And don't climb cliffs for at least another month."

Diluc sighed, rubbing at the sore bone-hollows above his ears. "I said that I am perfectly fine, and I stand by this remark." He hadn't exactly been planning to go to Dragonspine again soon anyway.

Barbara didn't look like she believed him, but she did stop talking.

Kaeya grew more restless again as the day drew on, tossing and turning amid the covers, flinching away from Barbara's hands and coughing on the water they trickled into his mouth. Adelinde and Barbara worked together to change his bandages again, and Diluc held him still once more, sitting on the bed pillows and cradling Kaeya's head and shoulders against him to make the girls' job easier. He clenched his teeth at every wince and startle that his foster-brother made, pitifully easy as it was to pin Kaeya's hands down with his own. After they'd finally got the fresh bandages on, another round of healing Hydro from Barbara sent him back into limp stillness; the inert weight of his body in Diluc's arms was almost more frightening than the earlier agitation.

"He's responding well to the healing, anyway," Barbara said, smiling brightly up at Diluc. "That's a good sign."

Nothing about this looked like a good sign to Diluc, but he didn't say so.

He clung to that promise anyway, as the sharp golden afternoon turned to evening, blue-purple dusk gathering above the shore of Cider Lake and the mountain's silhouette looming cloud-wrapped in the distance. He didn't want to let go of Kaeya, and so he stayed where he was, leaning back against the pillows and letting Kaeya rest in the curve of his arm and side, head lolling against his shoulder.

Winds of mercy, Kaeya seemed so fragile now, as if the bones of his face were rubbing through the transparent tawny skin. The shadow under his visible eye was sunken, the heavy dark locks of his hair unkempt and damp with sweat and Hydro mist.

"I have to rest," Barbara said, when Hilie had come through to light the lamps. "I can help more - later. I'm sorry, sir."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Diluc muttered.

"Wake me anyway if anything changes." She rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn in her sleeve. "I'll do my best, I promise! Honestly - " Another yawn interrupted her then, and Hilie ushered her out of the room.

*

So Diluc was alone with Kaeya in the early watches of the night, as the last round of Hydro wore off and his fever soared again, heedless of the cool cloths Diluc wiped his flushed face with. He scratched and flailed against Diluc's hands and cried out broken words in some language Diluc didn't understand, until his struggling turned to shivering, pressing close to hide his face from the lamplight.

"Help me," Kaeya was whispering, then, between gasping shuddering breaths. "Help. It hurts, it hurts."

Diluc blinked, the tears in his eyes a hazed shimmer in the light.

"I'm here," he said, hoarsely. He ran a hand through Kaeya's hair, bringing his foster-brother's face in towards his chest, clutching him close to try to still the shivering. "I've got you, Kay. Luc's got you."

"Diluc," Kaeya said, and reaching out, he clung to Diluc's shirt with both hands just as he had the night before, knuckles white with strain. "Luc, don't go."

"I am not going to go anywhere," Diluc said. "I swear it by the winds and the Archons." He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat burning, almost choking his words off; his voice shook, but he wanted to speak, desperate in case waiting made it too late. "And I will always be here if you choose to come home. Or if you don't, either. Whatever you choose. You know that, Kay? I - I want you to always know that."

"Luc," said Kaeya again, and sighed, and did not let go.

Diluc was never sure quite when the tide turned, somewhere in the dark blank hours between midnight and morning, when the world seemed small and close and all the shadows hid terrible possibilities. But nonetheless it did, the wild flutter of Kaeya's heartbeat slowing again, his sharp breaths lengthening, and the ghastly heat of his fever ebbing away so that Diluc folded another blanket around him to keep the chill of the autumn night off.

And then, at last, they both slept until morning.

[moononastring]

Spirit Meets the Bones

Eris and Iris.  Son of a high lord, daughter of a fiend.  An arranged marriage brought them together and beneath all the hate, the two are more alike than they’d like to be. 

Genre: Angst Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Tagging: @inejjg​ | @vanserrasvalkyrie​ | @nina-zcnik​ | @firebirdofscythia​

Eris stood with his hands clasped behind his back, standing rigidly next to the female who had now become shackled to him. His bride had only repeated the words of binding in a dull, dry tone and shifted her face slightly so he’d kiss her cheek rather than her lips in front of everyone. Already, she had more nerve than he anticipated. He had only smiled.

The two now stood in their finest before his parents, the festivities of the wedding raging on behind them. Would continue to rage on when the bride and groom took their leave. It all meant nothing to either of them.

Eris stood in his suit, tailor-made, and fitted in forest green. Iris’s bridal gown of white covering every inch of her, pressed against every delicate curve. Eris had only stolen glances, not looking for too long. The hatred in her eyes had become grating. 

He spared Iris another side glance, aware his father was watching him, and gave his parents a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you father, you spared no costs on this wedding.”

“If only the bride and groom seemed to enjoy it as well.” 

Eris offered his father another tight smile. “It all happened so fast. We’re both whiplashed but I’m sure Iris loved it as much as I did.” he said and looked at his bride now fully. “Didn’t you...wife?”

Iris automatically bowed her head towards the Lord and Lady of Autumn and turned her gaze to her now-husband. “Of course...husband. Forgive me, I am a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

Eris and Iris.

Iris and Eris.

He only looked at her with boredom.

She looked at him wanting to desperately snap his neck.

“Well, run along then. Enjoy your wedding night. Make sure to show your bride a good time and don’t embarrass me, son.” Beron mused with a laugh and Lady Autumn gave Eris a pleading look as he nodded to his parents. 

“Welcome to the family, Iris.” Lady Autumn said softly.

Iris bowed her head in thanks and turned once more to look at her now-husband who gave her a small smirk and Eris couldn’t take his eyes off her. Couldn’t help the slight glee at how hard she was trying not to sneer back at him.

“Come along wife, it’s time for the fun part of being married.” Eris said with a smile and held out his arm. 

But Iris only stared at it. She stared at his arm and wondered what would happen if she just...snapped it off his body. Or stabbed him. Her father had nearly ripped her head off when he found out about the small knife hidden beneath her dress. The sting of his smack had barely settled down before she walked into her wedding. Nonetheless...her fingernails were sharp enough to maim.  

When a moment passed and Iris still hadn’t taken his arm, Eris stepped closer to her.

“Take my fucken arm before I drag you out of here.” he hissed and Iris blinked then tilted her head towards him with a shy smile, the ever blushing bride as she approached him and slipped her arm through his. Nevermind that it was trembling slightly.

“Try dragging me out.” she said softly. “I’ll only end up dragging your bleeding body back across this hall.”

It was Eris’s turn to blink then his lips twisted into a smirk. “Is that what your eyes have been trying to tell me? We can fulfill your dirty little fantasy once we’re alone.”

Iris stood before her husband and schooled her expression so that anyone looking at her would see her gaze reverent rather than murderous. As if they didn’t know how reverent murdering someone you hated could be. 

“Oh, does that mean once we’re alone, I can run a blade several times through your torso?” she said sweetly. “Because that’s exactly what I was fantasizing about.”

Eris chuckled, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. The challenge in her voice. The sternness in her hooded eyes. “Big words for a shaking gazelle in a room full of wolves,” he said softly and leaned in to kiss her temple, ever the besotted groom. “Don’t forget, you married the worst of them. I’d watch that pretty mouth if I were you.”

Iris let him pull away and let him see the shy smile that remained on her face though rage flashed in her eyes. Her grip tightened on his arm and she leaned into him again.  “Or what?”

A chuckle slipped out before he could help himself. Bold. She really was bolder than he expected. “You’ll find out once we’re behind a closed door, wife.”

He felt her body lock up but paid her no mind as he nodded his acknowledgment to the people congratulating them, as he practically did drag her out of the room. The sooner they got out of there, the sooner this night would be over and he could somehow think of how to handle this female that had been shoved at him. 

“Did you lose your tongue, little gazelle? No more big words now that you don’t have an audience?” he said quietly, as the two walked down the hall of The Forest House towards the wing he was to now live with his little lady. “Not going to try and run?”

She finally yanked her arm free from his and openly glared. “And go where?” she spat. “As if you wouldn’t drag me back here and humiliate me for trying.”

Eris only hummed his response and watched as she huffed then continued walking. He openly observed her as they walked in silence. In a tense, nearly suffocating silence. 

His wife. 

Wife. 

He mouthed the word silently to himself then frowned thinking of how, for the second time, he was forced into a union he had little say in. At least this one hadn’t fucked anyone else as far as he was aware. 

It didn’t matter if she did. She was now his and he was hers. There was no escape. There would be nobody else. And Eris wasn't exactly sure how to feel about this. 

How was he supposed to feel about a female he knew nothing about? How, exactly was he supposed to feel when he had only found out a month before the wedding that she was to be his?

Her father, a wealthy merchant, a criminal essentially, wanted to build better ties with the High Lord of Autumn to no doubt get away with things he shouldn’t be. Nevermind that the male was as big of a piece of shit as his father. He had simply offered up his daughter to Beron for Eris like she meant nothing to him. Wrapped up for him like a delicious dessert to be eaten up. 

And delicious she was. Eris let his eyes roam her body as she stalked in front of him towards the room —  she didn't even know which one they were supposed to be going towards and yet, the confidence in her walk of rage didn’t hold her back. Her chestnut brown hair coiled up in braids, the tiara sitting atop her head, exposing her long lovely neck.

The train of her dress trailed behind her and he only quirked his brow at the design, not as frilly as he had expected. Then again, he really knew nothing about her. No one had given him the chance to.

Eris stepped on the tip of the dress’s train and she startled, a small gasp escaping her lips. Turning sharply, she glared at him.

“Get off my dress.” she seethed but he only gave her a small smile.

“We’re here.” he said and watched as she froze all over again, color seeming to drain from her face. He pursed his lips and wondered just how badly she thought this was going to go. “Are you thinking about running now?”

This seemed to unfreeze her body and Iris blinked at him. “Just open the door.” she muttered quietly but he could hear her heart beating. He could almost taste her fear and his lips curled in disdain.

Eris waved his hand and the door opened itself. With a mocking bow, he gestured for Iris to step inside. She gave him a withering look then slowly stepped into the room and Eris followed her in. 

The two stood in the doorway of the suite taking in the grandness, the room a swirl of all the autumn colors in one, coming together making it look like a magical place of rest. Nevermind that the two people required to live here wanted to do anything but. The suite was huge, decorated with a seating area in one corner, small dining space in another, a bedroom set that included a large closet across the wall, a vanity and —

Iris’s eyes then fell on the bed that was big enough to fit six people and her fists clenched. She gave him only a look of loathing and wrapped her arms around herself.

But it was when Eris closed the door and locked it, did the sense of panic she had been holding back all day fill the room. He heard her swallow and as he took one step closer, Iris whirled around.

“Don’t touch me.” she snarled.

Eris paused then took a deep breath, his hands once again clasped behind his back, a sour taste in his mouth. Naturally, she was to assume the worst about him. Naturally, he might as well oblige her. 

“You’re my wife now. I thought the whole point of the wedding night was for us to be touching as much as possible,” he said quietly, the ever-present smirk on his face as he moved closer to her. “Or did they not teach you that?”

Iris flushed and shot him a glare, pointing viciously. “Don’t you take that tone with me or I’ll make you regret it.”

Eris’s smile was feral at the challenge. “Claws are coming now, are they wife?” he said quietly and took another step closer. “I wonder if you have claws like that in bed.” He titled his head, observing her. “Why is your dress so modest? Didn’t they tell you I like to see some skin?”

She took another step back, hating the predatory look in his gaze. “You won’t be near my dress for too long so don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure about that? I do need to fulfill my husband duties and take it off of you.” he said again and took the final step for them to share a breath. “Make you feel all the wonderful things a husband should make his wife feel.”

“Stop talking to me that way!” she hissed and shoved him back.

He chuckled and grabbed her arm firmly, pulling her into his chest. “I will talk to you however I see fit, especially when it makes you flush so beautifully.” 

And indeed, Eris hadn’t gotten the chance to stare at her so openly until this moment and it was unfortunate how beautiful she actually was. Very unfortunate, he thought, especially when his own heart started beating wildly in his chest and he felt hers sing to the same erratic rhythm. 

The world seemed to still with his fingers gripping her arm. His amber eyes found her hazel ones and both pairs of eyes widened slightly. His gaze intensified as he soaked in her features and how a few loose strands of hair had slipped to frame her face so wonderfully. Iris’s own thoughts had paused at how close his lips were to hers and the way he stood so elegant and effortlessly towering over her. 

It was truly unfortunate. Because Eris’s eyes had flickered down to her lips and back, the corner of his lips lifting. How much would she hate him if were to kiss her? Could he have one taste? 

Iris flushed deeply as Eris leaned in even closer and she did the only thing she could think of to get away from him.

Eris let out a groan of pain as she kneed him in the balls and crossed to the other side of the room.

“What the fuck was that for?” he hissed, doubled-over, his glare meeting the one Iris shot at him.

“I told you not to touch me. Married or not.” she hissed, taking a step back. “And based on everything I’ve heard about you, I definitely don’t want you touching me.” 

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth as he straightened and took another step towards her.

A chair flew towards him then and he barely ducked in time.

“What the ever-loving fuck —”

“Stay on your side of the room.”

“I’m not going to —”

“One more step and the dagger will be next.”

Eris stared at her in confusion, at the dagger that looked so much like —

He looked down at his belt where he knew his dagger to be sheathed...except it was not.

“You were too busy trying to intimidate me to notice.” she said with a snort and gone was the trembling gazelle that he’d seen all day, his dagger twirling her hand. “Surprise.”

Eris blinked then huffed out a noise of disbelief. “Well wife, this is an interesting turn of events...How did you manage to steal it?”

“Most males are stupid and get easily distracted by beautiful females. If I let you believe I was weak, you automatically assumed you could dominate me and lose the upper hand,” she said simply and shrugged. “Your mistake.”

He narrowed his eyes. “From the things your father told me about you, handling weapons wasn’t on the list.”

“My father is a lying piece of shit and doesn’t know an actual thing about me.”

“He told me your passion was piano and you prefer to stay indoors because you were sensitive to the sun.” Eris stated flatly and Iris rolled her eyes.

“I do love piano but the only thing I’m sensitive to are the bruises he gifts me that people would be bound to notice if he let me out as often as I’d like.”

Eris froze. A distant roaring filled his ears as he stared at Iris. He stared and stared and when she narrowed her eyes at him, he clenched his teeth and took a breath.

“Your father beats you?” he asked quietly. 

Iris shrugged and it was a shrug that he knew well. A shrug he had mastered to deflect Beron’s own marks on his body. A shrug he had mirrored from his own mother.

“My father seemed giddy at the idea that you’d be beating me too,” Iris began and sunk the dagger into the table with a loud thud, before meeting his gaze again. “But if you think that gives you permission to lay a hand on me, I will break eye single one of your fingers and carve your heart out of your body.” 

Eris stared at her. Trying to think of a response. Trying to think of all the things he’d heard about her before this moment.

“My daughter is delicate.” her father had told him. “She’s also foolish and needs guidance with a heavy hand. Don’t be afraid to put her in her place.”

There was nothing delicate about the female in front of him. Nothing but sharp glares and determination. Her stance alone told him she would be nothing of what he had expected.

His mother’s bruised skin flashed in his mind and Eris swallowed and met Iris’s gaze. 

“I would never harm you.” he said firmly and she tilted her head, quirking a brow.

“Your reputation says otherwise.”

“My reputation is catered to a specific audience.”

“Your reputation is the reason I am willing to kill you and face death myself then let you turn me into the broken doll my father tried to make me.”

Eris pursed his lips at that and slipped a hand in his pocket, the other coming to brush back his hair. “It appears wife, that you and I aren’t what we seem.”

Iris crossed her arms. “So it seems, husband.”

“We wasted time not getting to know each other a month ago.” Eris only said with an eye roll and Iris froze. “Your father insisted you were too nervous and shy.”

“What do you mean a month?” she asked breathlessly, her hands fisting at her sides.

Eris’s blink marked his confusion. “A month. Our engagement was announced a month ago.”

Iris blinked then blinked again and Eris watched as a cascade of emotions flashed across her face. 

“A week.” she gasped out. “I was told a week ago.”

Eris’s eyes narrowed and he took in her shaking hands. “A week?” he asked quietly. 

Iris only stared at him and he felt his chest tighten when she started taking deep breaths. Eris opened his mouth to say something — he felt compelled to say anything — but she held up a hand.

“I will only say this once,” Iris spoke, her voice surprisingly steady. “We may be sharing a bed but we will not...go further than that.”

Eris frowned, his own hands fisted at his sides. “Okay.”

She blinked in return. “Okay?”

His expression immediately turned sour at that. “I think the expectations for tonight have been made very clear. What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” Iris replied, all steadiness was gone from her voice as her face fell. “I wish I had nothing to do with you.”

And with that statement, she darted into their shared bathroom and slammed it shut. 

Eris remained rooted to his place and simply stared after her at the closed door she now hid behind, his thoughts a thousand miles a minute. 

He thought about their names and the silly way they matched.

He thought about the similar father figure they seemed to have and the history they seemed to share.

He thought about the small thrill he felt when he had been within kissing range. 

Eris frowned’s deepened at the sniffle he heard from behind the door and wondered...how much hell would they be in for now?

[fuckthisshitimin]

Borrowed Time, Chapter 4: About the life of Gertrude Robinson

Chapter 1: Are you afraid of death, Jon?

Chapter 2: Take my Picture (I want to last longer)

Chapter 3: I don't know.

read on ao3

September 30th, last autumn of Gerard Keay

6:30PM

Martin steps out of the cab, and Jon is all but wiggling uselessly, waiting for him to close the door to lunge forward, to hold him and assess the damage.

"Um, Jon?"

"Thanks for coming."

Jon can feel Martin's chest rising and falling, when he breathes in and sigh. This is the best feeling in the world.

"Sure. Anytime, Love."

7:40AM

“This is against protocol.”

If there is a thing Sasha James can say she knows all about, it is protocol. “You must understand I cannot make an exception for…” She takes her coat off nonetheless, putting it on the back of a chair as the voice of the man behind her fades to the back of her mind. “… as I understand it…” She tightens her grip on her working case, breathes in the familiar scent of a mortuary room. She has never been in this one before. She looks around, the table, the way he arranged the space, the cabinets and lights, almost like her own room but not quite, it’s just a bit off, it’s familiar and it’s unknown. The man that opened to her is on her heels when she makes her way to the body lying still. “…know about—”

“How long has she been here?”

He walks up to her, careful to keep his distance whilst still blocking her view of the body. “Ms. James, do not get me wrong, I truly admire your work, but you cannot be here.”

With a click of her tongue, she tries to walk past him. But he’s persistent. She spent an awful night on the train, barely catching a glimpse of the sun rising before she took the underground, another glimpse and another set of stairs to here, where the sun never shines. The white light would make it impossible to know if it is day or night, if not for the obvious red clock on the wall. If she cannot avoid him, she has to look him in the eyes. His suit is neatly pressed. His face is calm — unassuming. “Who are you?”

“Oliver Banks. I am to take care of Ms. Robinson’s body.”

He would be taller than her, were she not wearing heels, and she is grateful for the way her feet hurt just a bit, anchoring her. “No, you are not.” He opens his mouth to talk again — she won’t let him. “Not a thing you just said is true.”

“You cannot—”

“Mr. Banks. Your ventilated cabinet is old, barely up to European standards, and the labels on your formaldehyde are too faded to be legible. This is a health hazard, and if you prevent me from doing my work I can prevent you from doing yours, permanently.”

She locks eyes and yes, there is a flicker of fear now, if ever so small. She waits until he nods. She nods back. “Now if you won’t be too much of a bother, you can assist me with Mrs. Robinson’s preparations, and start by answering my questions. How long has she been here?”

Oliver Banks sighs, looking away from her and to the body. “Forty hours.”

“That’s too long.”

“They—”

“Gertrude Robinson didn’t care for excuses and neither do I. There is work to be done.” She sighs, too, relaxing slightly at the prospect of working. She knows how to do that. She needn’t be tough anymore. She takes off her shoes. Her tights can’t protect her from the cold cold floor. “Would you make me a cup of tea, please? Oh, and print out new labels.”

She is glad Mr. Banks doesn’t fight, and she starts with rearranging the supplies. The glycerin goes to the left corner of the trail, and the sewing kit on another table, behind her. She will get to that eventually. She takes a moment. Just a second, to look at Gertrude’s face. And she shivers when she feels eyes on her. She groans, wishing she had eyes that could glare like those of the deceased. Wishing she’d inherit this, if nothing else. “Sorry, I’ll— I’ll go. You called her Mrs. Robinson.”

She sighs, again. “She got married six years ago. Did you not read her will?”

He blinks, taking in the information, and when he doesn’t ask any more questions and gets busy — she hopes — making tea, she thinks he might not be such an awful assistant for today. She smiles at the dead woman. “I’m sorry our goodbye was so cold. And I hope you knew… I hope you knew I kept fond memories of you, still.” She gulps. A breath in.

6:00AM

He came as soon as he heard. He wasn’t even close to her. She didn’t like him, really, or at least it is the impression he had. It was always hard to tell what Gertrude Robinson was thinking and Jon cannot remember a time he saw her without this coldness in her eyes. She wasn’t antipathic, not really, polite and formal in all the ways you would expect a hundred-years-old cardigan-wearing Art History professor to be, but… There was something in her eyes, a dark greenish gray, in the way she held herself, all defenses up.

Maybe Jon is overthinking it.

He hadn’t thought about her for three years now.

But when he heard, when Elias Bouchard, of all people, called to say she was dead, something cold rushed through his veins and he had to be here. Had to not leave her alone.

He wonders if Elias called all of her students like he called him — it doesn’t seem feasible.

He fiddles with his phone, getting up when he hears footsteps approaching. The door opens, and Oliver yawns when he comes in, a fresh cup of tea in hands. The mortician spots him after a lull, not quite awake yet. It is barely six in the morning. He came early.

“Thank you,” Jon says, before hello, before anything else, for he is afraid he might forget.

“I expected you to have fallen asleep, honestly.”

He chuckles. Maybe taking Ritalin around the clock was an awful idea, but he didn’t fall asleep, and he didn’t intend to make a habit of it, either.

“You should go home and sleep.”

“Will you leave her alone?” The question slips from his lips before he can realize he’s about to talk, and he grimaces. Oliver will need breaks. Of course. To make tea, and pee, and eat, and all those things that the livings do and Gertrude Robinson won’t anymore. He cannot ask of Oliver to oversee his needs for a… for a gut feeling rooted in superstition and something Jon can’t even properly pinpoint.

“Doesn’t she have anyone else that could come?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“I packed a lunch, so I won’t have to leave the room for more than half an hour. That’s the best I can offer.”

Jon nods, ponders the options. It’s half an hour to home. “What time do you take your lunch break?”

Oliver sighs, and Jon thinks he knows what is on his mind. “One thirty.”

It seems like an awfully long morning, and Jon wants to say thank you again, but he just gets up, takes his bag from the floor, addressing a last look to the body. “I won’t make you wait.”

“If you do, I will have someone else watch over her body.”

“Thank you.” Jon says again, and he sounds as tired as he feels. “Thank you.”

“It is my job.”

11:30AM

A smile on her lips, Gerry can’t believe they haven’t seen her in five years. Her eyes are clearer than they remembered, and she doesn’t look so tired, for someone who texted through the night and spent the morning in here. “I brought what you asked,” they say, raising a large grocery bag.

She walks to him, hand raising instinctively to brush their hair, and they wish she would touch him, but she refrains from it and grabs the bag instead. They never were physical in their friendship. It would be strange, probably, to hold her now, but they had the strangest morning already so they doubt it would be worse. None of this feels real yet.

“Thanks for that. Must have been weird.”

“It was easy, at least. I brought all of her dresses. So, two.”

Sasha chuckles, and when Gerry’s eyes ineluctably find the body, she moves away to give them space. They raise their eyebrows. “Oh.” Turn away. “She’s naked.”

“Ah, right.”

“This is in my mind forever, Sasha.”

“I’ll cover her up, don’t make a fuss about it.”

“I am not making a fuss. I am just saying, if you ever see a naked old woman in my paintings, it is your fault.”

A chuckle, again, “She’s covered. Didn’t think you would mind.”

“I…” he frowns, turning back to the body. “I wonder if she would be okay with it.”

A shrug. “It’s just her body.”

He knows. She’s not there. Not when he comes closer and looks at her face, so very still. It isn’t the first time he sees a dead body. That would be their dad. Then, their mum. And now their whatever-she-was. They find they are strangely glad. The idea of dying before her felt… wrong. “Did you sew her lips already?”

“Yes. It’s mostly done. Did you find her make up?”

“No foundation I am afraid.”

“Shame. Her lipstick?”

They saw Gertrude Robinson with lipstick twice exactly. Same shade both times. On her wedding day, and when she buried her wife. “I did.”

“Great.”

They hear Sasha going through the bag, but they can’t get their eyes off the corpse. The body. It looks cold. And it is. Her hair isn’t done yet. “Peaceful is a weird look on you, Gertrude.”

The fumbling in the bag stops, and Gerry bites their lips. It resumes, and they add: “But I’m glad, still. Thank you for everything.”

He looks away finally with a long breath. The way Sasha examines the dresses, laid down on her table, reminds them of Jon, it is careful and important and generous, and they smile. “Will you take care of me, too?”

She frowns, takes a moment to look away from the dresses, and her voice is distant. “What?”

“When I’m gone, will you take care of my body, too?”

“Well I hope I’m reti—”

When she turns around and crosses Gerry’s eyes, she must see something on their face. It’s hopeful when she picks up her sentence where she left it. “I hope I’m retired by that point.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“Now this is a joke.”

They chuckle. “Yes. Still true.” They can’t make out what’s on Sasha’s face, but it’s tight, and they do their best not to interpret it. They shrug. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She glares, and they shrug, shoulders a bit too high, moving a bit too slow. “My therapist told me it’s normal to deflect with humor.”

“Gerry…”

“Take your time. What I asked, take your time. Need a moment?”

To this day, Gerry cannot say if this moment is weirder for them, or for the person they announce their imminent death to. It’s confusing to say the least, and he wishes he knew how to stop grieving something that isn’t gone yet.

“I… help me do her nails, okay?”

She sniffles, and the white light, unforgiving and cold on the three of them, makes for short sobs slipping through focused faces, grips tightening and a hand she holds maybe for the first time, Gerry can’t be sure, but with more intent she ever did, and they both let out a gasp when Gerry spots, on her left hand, the tiniest tattoos.

“I never knew she had any,” Sasha says, and she thinks she should have noticed. On the side of her ring finger that would be hidden by her middle finger, it reads, 13.03.14, and on the pinkie, a simple cursive agnes.

It makes for a knot in both their throats, and they hold each other’s hand firmly, hold each other up when they look existence in the eye, and it’s hard to breathe but they do. It is precious that they do.

[the-faces-and-voices-in-my-head]

A Miracle in September

Alright, let me give you a short explanation for what will happen next.

I am not a writer and I will never see myself as a writer.

However, I might have some ideas hidden deep down and they happen to float when they grow bigger than my brain and my heart to take.

You guys are the best place to share whatever you will read with.

You are more than welcome to love it, hate it, or ignore it.

But of course, If It is up to me, I hope it gives you a happy moment.

@i-am-no-body Since it was your request to write something, I did it now let's share whatever reactions we get together XD

It was a windy day, the leaves and thin branches were moving with the wind proving how strong it was; sitting in his wheelchair, Levi Ackerman watched the scene quietly from the large window in his room.

It started as a beautiful day of the autumn season.

Levi's favorite season.

He was lost in his thoughts until a tiny persistent sound forced him back to reality. He pushed the wheelchair closer to the window where he saw a cat struggling to stay balanced on the edge of another close window to his.

-Tch! what an idiot!

The cat made this long heart-wrenching sound as if she was screaming for help, Levi lived on the fifth floor and if she fell, it would be a deadly fall for sure. Levi watched her for a moment then moved his wheelchair again to get one of his crutches that he often uses when he has to move longer than the usual distance he can walk.

He supported the crutch while pushing its wide end to where the scared cat stood. He thought he might create a bridge for her to reach to his window and he will take her inside; the cat didn't disappoint him, she started moving carefully walking on the crutch until she reached Levi's window and jumped into his lap.

Levi caught her with one hand, pulled the crutch back, and closed the window with the other hand.

-Here...I got you...Don't be scared.

The cat's heart was beating faster than usual even for her, Levi checked if she was injured anywhere then decided to start by feeding her.

-Wait here, I will make you a tasty lunch.

Levi has always been kind to animals, stray cats were his closest friends in his childhood so he didn't try to hide his love and kindness towards them as he has always done among humans.

Levi got up slowly and went towards the kitchen.

-Captain Levi!

Falco ran after Levi trying to help him in whatever he needed to walk for.

-Bring me a clean bowl Falco.

Not knowing what for, Falco brought a bowl to Levi, White milk filled the bowl while Falco watched in confusion: Captain...Are you hungry?

-Tch, do you think I drink milk from a bowl, brat?

Falco raised his hand in defense: No...no...I thought you are preparing cereals...they are usually put in milk.

-Ce...What?

-Falcoooo, I found a cute cat in captain Levi's room!

Levi was one who responded: Why are you in my room in the first place Gabi?

Gabi came with a wide happy smile on her face holding the cat excitedly: We wanted to check on you captain...we missed you and planned to spend the day with you.

Levi knew why...and he was grateful to the two brats whom he considered as a family ever since the nightmare ended.

He was aware what day tomorrow is but they came earlier than he expected them to come.

The doorbell rang and quiet knocks followed.

-MR ONYANKOPON IS HERE CAPTAIN LEVI!

Gabi's voice rang in the house while Levi was walking to the living room where Gabi took the cat.

-Falco, how do you survive this noisy one without going deaf?

Falco smiled shyly: I got used to her, captain.

And Levi knew more than anyone how to live with a loud cheerful one.

-Oh, where did you find this beautiful one, Levi?

-She was stuck like an idiot on the edge of a near window.

Onyankopon smiled and said: then you saved her right?

Levi's slightly blushing face answered for him.

Onyankopon continued: Once a hero, always a hero.

-Shut up smart hat!

Onyankopon laughed knowing how Levi reacts to compliments yet he never stopped expressing his admiration and gratitude to the man who saved the world despite everything he lost...and everyone.

The cat jumped from Gabi's arm to Levi's lap again ignoring the food.

-Oh? the cat already chose her owner Gabi!

-Well, this just gives me more reasons to stay with Captain Levi.

Levi stroked the white fur lovingly and talked to the cat: what? not hungry? or you didn't like it?

The cat returned the kind gesture by touching Levi's fingers with her paw then jumped again to where the bowl is and started drinking the milk in a graceful manner.

-Levi! The cat is well behaved! I thought she is going to make a mess!

Levi watched her silently but the admiration was obvious on his handsome face.

Gabi said: I will prepare the lunch then, come with me, Falco!

Falco's blushing cheeks explained what he wanted so the two men nodded in approval.

Onyankopon smiled and said: Ah that young love.

Levi didn't respond, verbally at least but he raised his hand and touched the stitches on his face nodding in agreement quietly.

Onyankopon knew how Levi felt.

It was the afternoon of the 4th of September.

In reality, it was a reminder of the unforgettable one they lost almost a year ago and in a better world, it would be almost her birthday.

Onyankopon closed his eyes for a moment and whispered: Happy Birthday Commander Hange...

As if she was called, the cat returned to Levi's lap again with a graceful jump but this time she climbed his chest and with her little paw touched the stitches on his face.

Both of the men were surprised and confused.

Levi's eye on this side was no longer able to serve him but he still felt the cat's careful touch, she traced the stitches carefully and gently as if she knew how delicate and important these stitches are.

The awkward silence lasted for almost a minute then the cat looked up as if she was seeing something on the ceiling.

She started to purr in satisfaction.

Levi was surprised by what she did but he enjoyed it nonetheless: you are such a weird ball of fur.

Onyankopon picked the topic: what are you going to call her?

Levi seemed surprised by the question.

He never considered keeping the cat.

-I didn't say I am keeping this furball.

-But she is so smart, clean and polite and she likes you a lot.

-She will make a mess sooner or later...You can keep her if you want.

-I am not the one being licked, touched, and loved by her sadly.

The cat was awake and listening, she flipped on her back in an adorable way touching Levi's sleeves with two paws.

-Hahahaha, Is she flirting now?

-If she is then she is an idiot.

Onyankopon shook his head without commenting on what Levi said, he learned that these words are signs of affection from Levi.

-Come on Levi, Pick a name.

-I don't have one...I will call her cat.

-Oh for god's sake Levi, she is a cat, I said a name.

-Why the hell do I need to call a cat with a name in the first place? I haven't lost my mind yet.

-It does not mean you lost your mind, it means that you care about your pet...Think of something related to her, her appearance, your feelings about her...anything she made you feel.

-Idiot...She is an idiot one so I will call her "Idiot"...Happy?

The cat hit Levi's hand lightly with her paw before biting it softly, almost tickled him.

Onyankopon didn't try to hold his laughter: See? She didn't like it, Levi.

Levi carried her and looked into her blue eyes.

It was exactly like the sea he saw for the first time with her...

That day...

He didn't show it but what he felt was pure joy.

Hange's beautiful face.

Her cheerful laugh.

Her curious comments.

He felt it all even if nobody noticed.

The sea for him was a reminder of the pure joy he once felt.

He hesitated before saying in a low unsure tone: How about...Joy?

Onyankopon answered immediately: I love it.

The cat seemed to like it too.

Gabi and Falco finished cooking and started serving the lunch.

The hours passed quickly.

They talked, joked, and laughed.

At 10 PM, Levi decided to go to sleep.

Falco and Gabi decided to stay in the other room Levi prepared for them.

Onyankopon shyly asked to stay and he was ok with sleeping on the big sofa if Levi accepted.

Levi didn't have the courage to disappoint them...and didn't want to do it.

He was grateful for this kind of love he got from all of them.

He knew how having a family may feel.

He knew how having a trustworthy friend can be.

Far from fears of loss, blood, and destruction, these feelings were different from what he experienced in his life and he wanted to cherish them even if he could not express them clearly.

After he closed the door of his room, he noticed that the cat sneaked in.

-Tch, I will not let you sleep on the bed.

The cat jumped on the near chair and stayed there.

Levi was prepared for a short fight, he was even considering giving in to the cat's desire if she insisted.

-Well, Good.

He started taking off his clothes to wear something more comfortable but he stopped abruptly when he heard a feminine voice: Are you sure you want to do that while I am sitting here?

He raised his head instantly towards the direction of the voice.

What he saw was almost a hallucination...

A woman he knew very well was sitting there where Joy was.

Levi needed a few seconds to speak: Ma!!!

She got up and sat beside him on the bed: I...I am not your mother but I thought you would love to see her face after all these years...was it a bad idea?

Levi didn't find the words.

He was sure that it was a dream.

He was sure that none of this was real.

But if it was a dream why isn't she in it?

-Are you thinking about the smiling woman with glasses?

Her kind smile matched his mother's.

He could finally speak: How do you know both of them? and...Who are you?

She kept the kind smile: You named me Joy.

-Then I am dreaming? or...Am I dying?

She touched his face like his mother did in an old dream of his and shook her head: Neither...It is just that I owe you.

The question didn't leave Levi's head but she answered it: some cats are not only mere cats, we live in this world disguising ourselves in forms, cats are our favorite since humans love it and respect it, they even worshipped them.

-So...You are not a cat?

-I know you are new to this world and the concept of miracles is not a familiar one to you but I am one of god's creatures, powerful enough to repay your kindness.

-Can you bring back the dead?

Levi asked without thinking then he felt a mix of shame and sadness.

-I don't think I need to go that far.

Levi's widened eyes asked before he did: what do you mean?

His mother's face smiled kindly: Cats can see spirits, I tried to make you notice when I played with her.

Levi repeated in a hopeful voice: Her?

She nodded: The cheerful one with glasses? Don't you know she has been by your side all the time?

Levi was surprised beyond words.

He asked her to watch over him.

She never abandoned him once.

Even in death...He was her priority.

-You named me joy and saved me when you could ignore me and now I know how I will pay my debt. She didn't wait for Levi's confused question and said: She tied herself to you with a string of fate, with every stitch, it held a wish and a prayer to the one your new friend spoke of.

She was desperate to keep you alive so she put all her hopes in these wishes and entrusted the mighty creator to keep you safe.

Levi knew she was speaking about Hange.

She continued: Her spirit never abandoned you so all I need to do is to give her a form that your human senses can feel and that...I can do.

Levi knew it was a dream yet he didn't try to wake up.

He was afraid to wake up.

The kind dear face of his mother gave him the same loving look he remembers and said: You are a very good man Levi Ackerman and If we crossed paths again in this life or the next ones, I will make sure to keep this friendship...

Now, remember what I will say, I spared a life of my nine lives to your beloved, she shall live for as long as you will, you are tied with a string of fate and never-ending love. You will be her connection to the world of living this time when your life ends, her connection ends, and if you gave up on loving her...

Levi interrupted her with all the feelings swelling in his heart: Never!

Joy smiled as if she knew already: Wait for her rebirth Levi Ackerman, I hope you will find the joy you once felt with her in your remaining years. I shall take my leave.

Before he could ask about what she meant, a strong wind engulfed both of them while Joy's voice rang for the last time: May your life be blessed both of you.

---------------------------------------

Levi woke up feeling a heavy weight on his chest but he didn't open his eyes yet. He had this dream and he wished he could never wake up. He truely hoped for that rebirth the mysterious being spoke of.

A faint touch played with his hair.

It was so soft....so kind.

A dear voice followed it: Wake up Levi...

His eyes opened slowly.

He thought he was still dreaming though.

She could never be here for real...could she?

-I missed you clean freak.

His heartbeats doubled maybe tripled even.

He could barely say: This is a dream...

She smiled as he has always remembered: tough luck Levi, I think you are stuck with me for another round.

Levi didn't find the words at this moment but he did the one thing he regretted not doing all the past years.

He hugged Hange as if he was trying to keep her inside his chest.

She was surprised by what he did but she hugged him even tighter.

-I have been stalking you all the time.

Levi's hot tears fell on her shoulder, she felt them but she didn't want to leave his arms yet, she continued: I am happy you made it alive out of that hell Levi, I am proud of you, I have always been.

His body shook briefly as he let go of his pain, longing, and sadness while Hange kept stroking his hair and his back softly and lovingly.

They didn't know how long they stayed this way.

They felt pure happiness.

They felt pure bliss that night.

Hange could finally take a good look at Levi's face.

-You are still so damn handsome, Levi.

His eyes were still wet as he stroked her cheek tenderly.

-Say something Levi...

He looked into her hazel brown eyes: Don't Go Hange!

Her heart fluttered as she responded: Didn't you hear that you are my lifeline? I am alive again as long as you live, as long as you want me to be.

-Do you mean that...You can't die before I die?

Hange looked surprised then said: well, I think she meant normal death but not accidents, maybe we should tr...

Levi grabbed Hange's hair longingly forcing her closer to him: Shut up four eyes...Shut up...This time you will never go anywhere without me and whatever the reason that may take your life, I will be by your side...I am not making the same mistake again...Got it?

She touched his forehead with hers and whispered: Got it.

The large clock outside announced the time.

Levi's door was opened by Gabi who was calling his name as she opened: Captain Levi who are you talking t...huh?

Hange got up spreading her arms: Gabiiiii!

Falco and Onyankopon were no different from Gabi.

Onyankopon was the one who noticed that the cat was nowhere to be seen: Levi...Is it somehow related to Joy?

Levi nodded: I might be still dreaming.

Falco who was crying and yet trying to soothe the crying Gabi as well said: I...I can see you Hange San, we can't be dreaming at the same time...you...you really are here...it is like Christmas Miracle.

Onyankopon was the one who answered: God does not need a month to give us a miracle Falco then he held both of Hange's hands and kissed them happily: It is a blessing and we can only be grateful we witnessed it.

It was 12:05 am after midnight, the 5th of September, and a rebirth of a never-dying connection and a never-ending love.

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy! 

Prologue ~ Chapter Two

Chapter One: Meeting 

 Summer had always been Aelin’s favourite time of the year. It was the soft breezes and the long days, the late nights. It was the time of year where she didn’t have to be a princess. There was no need for the formalities or the pretending. 

Summer was the season of freedom. 

And when she had woken up that morning, the sun was still low in the sky, the mist dancing between the trees and the bird song was mellowed, quieter somehow. She had known that summer was over; her Fae senses could feel the shift of the season. Summer giving way to the crispness of autumn. And despite the peacefulness and beauty of autumn, it was also her least favourite time of the year.

Court would begin again. Gone would be the long nights of stargazing, the lazy days lounging in the sun with a book or the trips to the Staghorns; now was the time for her royal duties to start once again. 

A gentle tap of the door had Aelin groaning and shifting in bed. 

“Your Highness? Your father would like to know if you will be eating breakfast with them this morning.” Her maid Elspeth was one of the good ones. She was in her late forties and had been with Aelin for her entire twenty years. She was a short woman, her hair starting to grey at the roots, her cheeks always rosy and plump. But Aelin loved her like a mother.

Elspeth slid into the room and closed the door behind her, she strode over to the towering windows which looked out over the forest beyond the castle. The thick curtains were opened to reveal a grey morning. Elspeth didn’t wait for a response from Aelin as she continued her way around the room to the balcony on the far side. She opened the doors and Fleetfoot, Aelin’s beloved dog perked up and trotted off to the fresh air. 

Elspeth was well versed in the ways of Aelin. Which is why her final task was to perch on the edge of her bed and pull the covers back. 

“Aelin, you have guests arriving today.” 

She shot up in bed, staring at Elspeth. She had forgotten about the guests. If she had, she definitely would have been up earlier. She said as much. 

“The Queen of Doranelle, Sellene Whitethorn is arriving with her family.” 

Of course. There had been turmoil in Doranelle for many years and finally, only a few months ago, they had decided on a new queen. It had been a surprise to her Uncle Orlon when it had been announced, but nonetheless, had extended an invitation to visit once the new queen had settled into her new role. Just as the offer would be extended to me one day- when I became queen. 

“I suppose I cannot get away with my usual attire today?” She said. Elspeth laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. A dress will be required.” 

Elspeth had picked a simple yet regal gown in a deep Terrasen green. Elspeth tried and failed to get Aelin to braid her hair, or at least put it into a simple updo. But Aelin enjoyed her hair free, the long blonde locks were one of her favourite assets, and never understood the need to hide it. 

She surveyed herself in the mirror, despite her late night with Sam, she looked awake and bright eyed. Ready for a day of acting like a princess. 

When Aelin arrived into the breakfast room, her father and mother were already seated, Orlon too. She took up the seat beside her mother and smiled apologetically to the three of them. Tardiness was one of her weaknesses and had frustrated all of them to no end. But with the night she had just had… if only her parents knew. 

“Late night again, Aelin?” Orlon grinned. He had always been privy to Aelin’s whereabouts, where she would sneak off to, who she would meet. 

Sam was not royal, in fact, he held no title in Terrasen. He had moved when he had been sixteen years old; escaping the grips of an assassin in Rifthold. He had stowed away on a ship, not knowing where it was going, but hoping that anywhere was better than before. He arrived in Terrasen with a few coins and his wits about him. He’d managed to secure work at a library. The owner had been old and frail, unable to lift the books, unable to do much at all. Sam had taken it upon himself to help in any way he could. And six years later he was the proud owner. It’s where Aelin had met him. Since then, she had been sneaking off to see Sam every chance she could; the only person knowing being Orlon. 

She knew it could never be more than it was with Sam, a reason why she had been so quick to shut down his offer the night before. And despite Terrasen being a forward-thinking country— the King was married to a man for Gods sake— they still drew the line at commoners and royalty marrying, or even being involved, the only exception being a mating bond; something so rare and final that no King or God could argue with it. So she tried to enjoy the stolen moments she had with Sam. Avoiding the advances of any foreign royalty that may come her way. The King only allowing it on the condition that when a serious offer of marriage arose, Aelin would accept and take her place as the next heir to the throne. She loved Sam, and on occasion had been angry at the impossibility of it being anything other than what it was now.

There was the other problem of her immortal lifespan. Sam was human and at some point it would have to end anyway.

“Did you forget about the arrival of the Whitethorns today?” Her father asked.

“It may have slipped my mind.” An easy lie. She took a bite of the pastry in front of her, savouring the sweetness. “But I am here now, and ready to be the perfect princess.” Another bite. 

Her mother chuckled to herself, sipping on the herbal tea that she would drink every morning without fail. Orlon cleared his throat, giving her a look. 

“The queen is new to this Aelin. We must ensure she is welcomed and feels comfortable during her stay.” 

A roll of her eyes. “I think I can manage being nice for a few days.” 

“Weeks.”

She stopped mid-chew. 

“The Whitethorns will be here for at least three weeks. Their castle is under renovations, so we offered them a place to stay whilst they were underway.” 

She had never heard of such a thing. A new queen, leaving her territory for weeks? 

“Darling, you are not expected to entertain them alone, nor be present at every minute.” Her mother had always been the diffuser; ensuring the conversations remained civil, if not for her sanity, for the sake of Aelin’s temper that had resulted in a few fires. “But the sneaking off will have to stop. Lysandra will understand.” Lysandra being Aelin’s excuse for when she was actually sneaking off to see Sam. 

She smiled politely and confirmed that she would be well behaved for when the guests arrived.

And that was that. 

She finished breakfast quickly and excused herself before they could make her stay longer. Aelin made her way to the training ground just beyond the walls of the garden. Orlon had had it built when it was evident Aelin needed a place to train with her powers. Fire magic was a rare gift, one that hadn’t been in the royal family since Brannon. She was grateful for the space, even if she no longer needed to train to the same extent. Only meeting with her trainer once every month.

“I thought I might find you here.” Lysandra’s voice echoed across the stones. “Hiding?” Lysandra laughed. 

“Something like that.” 

Lysandra was silent as she perched on the stone bench, watching as Aelin made shields of flame, as she danced the fire through her fingers and flung her powers towards the wall.

“I won’t be available for a while Lys. The Queen of Doranelle and her family are arriving today.” Aelin held the flame in her palm. “I need you to send a message to Sam for me.”

Lysandra had been the daughter of one of her mothers maids. And when her mother had died, Aelin’s mother could not stand the thought of Lysandra going to an orphanage. So she had housed Lysandra and trained her as a lady-in-waiting for Aelin. And even though they hated each other as children, the older they got the more they understood the other. 

“I heard one of the Whitethorn princes is extremely handsome. Do you think he’d be interested?” Aelin snorted. Any person would be insane not to be attracted to Lysandra. 

“Gods help the poor male if you pursue him.” Aelin returned to her flame.

“We all know that you’re going to marry me one day.” 

They both whirled at the sound of the male voice at the archway. Aedion stood there in all his glory. He wore a midnight blue jacket and dark pants, clothes for important people, Aelin thought. It was envy that Aelin was feeling. Aedion may be a prince, but he would never be King; marrying Lysandra would never be a problem, if she ever agreed, that was. 

Lysandra rolled her eyes and flipped her hair to the side. “Aedion, we both know you can’t handle me.” 

“We’ll see, Lysandra.” Mischief glittering in his eyes. 

Aedion took his wandering eyes away from Lysandra and back to Aelin, who had already lost interest in their banter. 

“What do you want Aedion? Aelin and I were busy.” 

“I’m here to tell Aelin that the Whitethorns will be here any moment, and her father wishes for her to be in the great hall to welcome them.” 

No peace. Summer was well and truly over then. Her flame flickered out and she brushed down her dress that was lightly coated in dust. She shook out her hair and let it fall past her shoulders, running her fingers through it to release any tangles. 

“How do I look?” 

“Like your father is going to kill you when he see’s the mess on your clothes.” Aedion held his arm out, she linked hers through it and smiled back at Lysandra who was brushing her own dress down.

“I’ll see you later Aelin.” A smile. “Always a pleasure, Aedion.” And then she was gone. 

Aelin and Aedion strolled down the path that led back into the gardens and then into the tall white palace of Orynth. The guards bowed their heads as she passed, the only acknowledgement that they would give. They continued into the palace, the halls empty of people. 

“Did they have to put out so many flowers? I feel like I’m just going to sneeze the entire time.” Aedion laughed, but didn’t respond as they approached the doors to the great hall. 

The room was only ever used for special occasions, I suppose a new queen included that. The room was large, taking up an entire wing of the castle, it’s ceiling tall, gold chandeliers dropping from it. The walls were painted white, with green and gold accents dotted around— the colours of Terrasen. The room was magnificent, every inch dripping in wealth and splendour. 

When she entered she dropped into a low curtsey. Orlon was sat atop the Antler Throne, his eyes fixed on her and Aedion— who was also bowing low. Her father and mother were sat on two smaller seats to Orlon’s left. A second, smaller throne rested next to Orlon’s; for the consort of the king. Which was unusually empty; Orlon’s husband usually filling the spot. 

As soon as she was in her place and everyone else were in their correct spots the guard at the end of the hall announced the arrival of the first Whitethorn family members. Aelin knew this formality all too well— get the lesser family members out of the way first, and then announce the most important. So she dropped her eyes and fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. She kept her eyes averted as the guard listed off the names of lesser royals and their spouses. A pinch on her shoulder made her look up, she spun to berate Aedion for being an ass, when the guard started to speak once more. 

“Your majesty, I would like to present Rowan Whitethorn, Prince of Doranelle and  Endymion Whitethorn, Prince of Doranelle.” 

The two males stepped through the open doors and she met the eyes of the shorter male. He was handsome, of course; and she smiled politely at him, wishing this would go faster. He smiled back, lowering his head slightly before doing the same to Aedion. Aelin tore her eyes away and looked at the second male stood next to him. Her breath caught in her throat as she beheld what was in front of her. 

It took him a moment to look toward her, and when their eyes met she felt every hair on her body stand up. His pine green eyes met her own and it was like the world was falling around her. She swallowed and forced herself to breathe, her body heating. 

The male in front of her seemed to be doing the same thing. His breathing turned shallow and he couldn’t tear his eyes from hers. 

It was like everything around her was spinning or maybe she was falling, Orlon’s voice faded to the background, all she could hear was the pounding of her heart. 

As she stared into the eyes of her mate.

[supercalvin]

Hello, may I request a Merthur ficlet where they’re teens during war ish times and they dance to O Children I just know you’re a potter head and thus there is no way you don’t know which scene I’m referring to 🤧 (Also I’m actually frequently on your page and we’ve interracted and I’m so fun and quirky that I decided to go anon for this one just to spice things up hoho) BONUS POINTS for soft cheek touching and sweet first kissing but whatever yk not that important 👉🏼👈🏼

This is a hilariously late reply to this prompt. Thank god tumblr doesn’t put dates on asks, because I’d be too embarrassed to post this ficlet. Anyways. I had to look up this scene lol, but it was very cute and I loved this idea. Soft cheeks kisses here we goooooooo.

ficlets

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The radio on Merlin’s shoulder crackled, and he quickly turned it down. The forest was quiet, and Merlin’s magic hadn’t detected anything besides animals in a mile radius, but that didn’t mean he was going to let a radio give away his position. He crouched down and waited for a minute, listening to the sounds of the forest around him. The pack of supplies dug into his shoulder, but with only a mile left to go, he knew he had better keep it on his back and feel the relief later, rather than try to get it back on his sore back.

With another quick spell to ensure that no one was around, Merlin continued on his route. His boots crunched in the autumn leaves and the air was crisp. Merlin could feel the magic in the forest like electricity before a storm.

There was limited access to electricity in the forest, it was mostly used for lights and any emergency medical equipment that Gaius needed. Otherwise everyone endured without it and magic was used when it wasn’t being used to defend the camp. Before the war, the thought of living without constant electricity seemed unreal, but after three years of living in the forest and running supplies between encampments, it was hard for Merlin to remember what life was like before.

When Merlin pictured the end of the war, the only luxuries he longed for was a warm bed and a large bath. Mostly he wished for his people to be free once again.

When Merlin entered the edge of the camp, he felt the wards shimmer around his form. Although invisible to most people, Merlin could always see the magic, it glimmered in the light like dust motes in a sunbeam. As soon as he passed through the wards he heard the commotion. His hackles raised and instinctually looked around for danger, before he realized that the sound wasn’t screams of fear but rather the raucous sounds of celebration.

The supplies tent was at the back of the encampment, where it could best be protected. Merlin wound his way around the tents until he found the large green tent. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by a young Druid woman, Ferridel.

“What’s happened?”

“Oh Merlin, you’ve returned. The battalion came back with news of victory while you were gone. We’ve taken the valley.”

Merlin nodded, his heart racing in his chest. Too many questions to ask, he was left dumb.

Merlin dropped off the supplies, but he was too anxious to stay and speak with Ferridel. He rushed to the center of camp, where a large bonfire was blazing and soldiers were gathered with tankards in hand. Their coats and rifles were strewn about the benches around the bonfire. Some soldiers raised their hands in greeting, but Merlin was looking for a familiar face.

“Looking for someone?”

Merlin whipped around to see exactly who he was looking for.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, his breath leaving him in a whisper.

Arthur smiled, looking far too pleased with himself as he cocked his head to one side. “You look awful, Merlin. What have you been doing? Rolling in the dirt while we fight this war?”

“You’re an ass,” Merlin said, but his harsh words were soon softened as he engulfed Arthur in a tight embrace. Arthur’s arms wrapped around him and he could feel Arthur shake a little. Despite his bravado, Arthur wasn’t a fool. Every time he stepped onto that battle field, it could be the end. Merlin knew that when Arthur left last month, it could have been his last time seeing his best friend’s smile.

Arthur pulled back and gripped Merlin’s shoulder, “Now you look like a man who could use a nice glass of scotch.”

“You have scotch?” Merlin said.

Arthur tilted his head towards the residential tents. “Come on,” He tugged on Merlin’s jacket.

Before Merlin knew it, Arthur had gotten Merlin a warm basin of water and a large pile of food. As Captain of the battalion, Arthur was granted some privileges, and usually Merlin would tell Arthur he was a spoiled prince for it, but now the warm water felt nice and the Merlin was starving. When he was travelling between encampments Merlin usually only ate jerky and whatever bread hadn’t gone stale.

As Merlin ate, Arthur told him about the battle. He was brief, very limited in his details. Merlin was grateful. He hated hearing about battle plans but he also knew that for every positive note Arthur said about the battle, there was a price they had paid. Merlin knew that as the men celebrated their victory, they also mourned their fallen brethren.

“So where is this infamous scotch?”

Arthur smiled, crooked and sly. He opened up a trunk and pulled aside clothes that cushioned a large bottle of amber liquid. Merlin raised his brow. Alcohol was hard to come by nowadays. Merlin ran essential supplies between encampments, and alcohol was rarely on that list.

Arthur cut the wax seal with his pocket knife and poured a heavy serving for both of them.

“To victory,” Arthur raised his glass.

“To freedom,” Merlin said, and clanked his glass against Arthur’s.

The scotch was warm as it ran down his throat. He coughed, not used to the feeling anymore. Arthur laughed at him and pounded his back. They drank and told each other stories of friends and foes alike. They talked about before the war and they dreamed about afterwards. Soon enough, both of them were laughing in drunken delight. Perhaps on a different night the scotch would have made them somber. But not tonight, after an essential victory.

Music had started to play outside and Merlin could hear the shuffle of people dancing and drunkenly singing along to the music.

Arthur stood on unsteady feet, a warm smile on his face as he reached for Merlin.

“What are you doing?” Merlin laughed as Arthur hauled him to his feet.

“Dance with me, Merlin,” Arthur whined, pouting like a spoiled child.

“You don’t want to see me dance, Arthur. You know how clumsy I am.”

“That’s not true,” Arthur pouted. His hands had settled on Merlin’s waist. He was warm from the alcohol, and it burned Merlin to be this close to the sun. “You’re not clumsy when you do magic. Come on, do some magic for me.”

“You’re such a spoiled prat.” Merlin held his hands against Arthur’s chest, but did not push him away. Despite his words, Merlin was not one to deny Arthur anything, especially when he was inebriated. So he let his magic loose. Dozens of small lights filled the tent, bobbing in the air like fireflies.

“Beautiful,” Arthur said, but he hadn’t turned his head to look at the lights.

The song outside was slow, but the tune was uplifting. Arthur took Merlin’s hands off his chest, cradling one in his palm and the other he slid up so that it rested against Arthur’s shoulder. They danced, albeit horribly, but nonetheless they did dance. Merlin stumbled over his own feet and Arthur did not know how to keep a beat, but they laughed and that was more important than skill.

As the music dwindled, they heard cheers outside. Someone was speaking to the crowd by the bonfire. Then someone started playing a somber tune, the same they always played at the end of any victory or defeat. They lost men, no matter the outcome. Their mood had changed just as quickly as the songs had changed.

Merlin felt his throat close up. He reached up to touch Arthur’s face, cradling his jaw in his palm.

“Thank the gods,” Merlin said, the rest of his sentence stuck in his throat. The thought of losing Arthur was too overwhelming, any words to express it were lost to Merlin.

“I’m right here,” Arthur said, holding Merlin’s wrist, “I’ll always be here.”

Merlin shook his head, “You can’t promise that.”

“I’ll always come back to you.”

Merlin shook his head, feeling tears run down his cheek even as he closed his eyes against them. He was always an easy crier, and usually Arthur would make fun of him for it. But Arthur stayed silent this time.

“Oh, Merlin. I hate when you do this…” Arthur shook off Merlin’s hand and cradled Merlin’s face in his own hands, wiping the tears with his thumbs. “I fight this war for you… For your freedom. For your happiness. One day, I will never see you cry again.”

Before Merlin could answer, Arthur leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Merlin’s cheek and then pulled away and kissed the other, right at the edge of his lips.

Merlin gripped Arthur’s wrists, his eyes flickering between Arthur’s trying to read his expression. But he was so grimmly serious, as if Arthur was vowing that he would fight every enemy soldier himself just to protect Merlin.

“Live through this war...that’s what will make me happy.”

“I will,” Arthur vowed with a solemn nod.

Just a few inches of air separated them, but they felt like miles. Arthur looked Merlin in the eye, and then down, and before Merlin could register what was happening, Arthur was kissing him. Merlin gripped him tight, feeling Arthur’s hands tighten on his jaw.

Arthur pulled back, “Is this...? Are you alright with…?”

“And you say I talk too much,” Merlin said, and shut him up with a kiss.

***

Ficlets

[whothehellmi]

She's sitting on a bench, looking at the big fountain in the middle of the park. Kids are playing around, they run, laugh, push each other with their bodies in friendly manners.

She watches them with a fond smile. I don't really know her, but I can see that there's something nostalgic in her sight. 

I'm sitting in front of her, there's a fountain between us but, nonetheless, I'm in front of her.

She has long, blond and curly hair. It's being held at the side with colorful clips. She has a sweater on, it's pink, kind of subdued though. Her pants are high waisted and in camel colour, it matches her boots.

I'm looking at her from afar, because I don't know how to start a conversation. We are waiting for the same group of people, both of us arrived earlier, and now we are waiting for the rest. She doesn't know I'm here, she's too occupied seeing the children. I don't want her to see me either. If she comes to me, what would my mouth spit in favor of saying something? I would probably embarrass myself. 

When our group arrives, they walk towards her, and she changes her face, putting on a mask to appear as if she didn't spend twenty minutes watching the kids play on the verge of tears. I recognize that copying mechanism, because I do the same.

I stand up and walk towards them. When I say "Hi" she looks at me and smiles, and I don't know if they can't hear my heartbeat with how loud it's being.

We go to a nearby café, we had a reservation. I end up sitting beside her, and I feel like that is actually the best that could have happened to me. She says hi, she asks how I'm doing and I feel like I'm melting, I think I fall in love everytime I have the honor of spending her time. We talk briefly, but that's what I needed to feel like a goddess today. I feel powerful because she gives me power.

The day goes by, we talk, we laugh. I keep thinking of her nostalgic eyes on the park earlier. I feel bad, because I want to know what pains her, I want to know if I can make her see her pain with another eye. 

We gather our things, say goodbye and it turns out she is going to the same way as I am. She looks grateful, that she has someone to walk by.

She talks and I listen to her, she talks and I want to hold her hand so bad. She nips on her lip, and then look me in the eye to ask for my number, so we could talk more. She says that she knows who I am but she isn't close, but she wants to be close. I'm over the moon, I want her so bad. 

We start talking after that, and it feels magical. We fit like an intrinsicate puzzle, our interests overlap and we can talk for hours. Sometimes I go to sleep at 4am, because I can't stop sharing my thoughts and listening to hers.

I don't keep track of the time, but after a while, she asks me to go somewhere. I feel like it's a date, but I don't want to get my hopes up, in my mind, she would never date someone like me.

She is everything I want, I keep learning things about her and I can't get enough, she lifts me up, she makes me feel high.

I'm a lonely person, I'm a shy man, I'm a sad woman. But she paints me with colours, and I really like it. Maybe, if we end up together, she could mix her colors with mine, and we could make a beautiful autumn scenery.

She asks us to meet up, we've been talking for many months now. She sends me the location to the park where we met many months ago for a friend's birthday. I'm scared and excited and I don't know why.

She is waiting for me, she's sitting on the fountain.

I sit beside her, and listen to her. She has much to say, but the most important words that I listen to are "do you like me? Because… i think i really like you".

I can't answer that, I stare at her lips, then to her eyes. I ask for permission, for consent, because I want her to want me to kiss her. She nods, her eyes are sparkling and I've never been more in love.

The kiss is everything I've ever wanted and more.

We keep glued together, she confesses that she was also watching me that first time, but didn't know how to approach either. That she was feeling sad, remembering her younger sister, and her own childhood. But when she caught sight of me, trying hard not to be so evident in my staring, she felt kind of giggly, and that was her cue to start a conversation later.

She says to me, that I caught her attention at different reunions our friend organized, same as me, it seems. We were too shy, but I thanks to her for being the first one to make a move.

We are together now, and I wonder if I would ever be able to stop loving every detail of her existence. If I could make her my goddess and pray for her in a shrine, I would. I would dedicate my whole life to her.

[urlocalnctstan]

𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Genre : Angst, Fluff, Slow-burnish, Idol AU

Pairing : Jaehyun x Reader ft.Mark (other members too)

Warning(s) : strong language, age-gap, mature contents, weird writing style lmao, uh what else? idk but yeah

Disclaimer :The story is completely fictitious, idol-fan relationships are not common so some of you crazy ones out here, pls don’t get too delusional, your oppas will be your oppas only virtually, not in real life.

Playlist : Youtube Link / Written

Word Count : 5.4k

Summary : ‘Time and tide waits for none’- a quote that is universally accepted and believed. You both had had your experience of meeting the right one at the wrong time, the concept of love long forgotten after the sudden downfall of your relationship together. But will time eventually heal everything for you both?

The car came to a halt, your mind subconsciously drifting back to the humiliation you faced tonight back at the office.

“ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB, Y/N?” your boss was a fuming mess, his whole office scattered with the documents you had brought just a few moments ago. At the sight of the shredded papers, you felt you heart clench. You worked so hard for this project, disregarding God knows how many nights of your sleep. The feeling of abomination was slowly creeping up from the pit of your stomach towards the man who stood taut, seething in rage.

“HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO JUST DO WHAT THEY ASKED YOU TO?” He yelled, his fist furiously banging on his wooden desk, beneath his hand rested some pieces of the torn documents.

“Sir, even you know how risky it is to design as they asked to. If a blunder happens it is our company that is to be held accountable, not theirs.” you knew it was pointless to reason with the stubborn headed prick, but you had to try out your luck.

“Get out. Out, out, out. Get your fucking face out of my face.” He swished his index finger repeatedly, letting out a frustrated shriek just as I was about to exit his office. His wrath was nothing new in the office, as all the other employees shot me a rather pitying look when they saw me exiting the team leader’s office with hands full of ripped papers. Wow, my 2 weeks worth of sleep. Just wow. You didn’t bother to reciprocate their sympathetic glances, storming out of the corridor as you furiously started clicking the floor to your cabin. The jabbing of your finger on the glowing button that read ‘13’ was the only sound that resonated in the fairly empty area, earning annoyed looks from the two individuals who stood right behind you.

“Ah, fuck.” You banged your head against the steering, recalling the even as you clutched the handles harshly. “Why,” another bang. “do I,” bang. “live like” bang. “this,” bang. You could feel your face was burning without even touching it, streams of tears flowing down. Just as you were about to give yourself another bang, the sudden honk of a car made you pause amidst your ritual. Indeed all motherfuckers love to test my patience. You decide to ignore the rider, mainly because you were also partially at fault for resting in your car in the middle of the park. You twisted the metal keys as the ignition went off, signaling your car was ready to flee. Yet again, you were distracted by soft knocks. You prayed to God to help you not lose your shit, at this point you were questioning if He ever hears your woes at all. The soft knocks stop immediately when you started to pull down the window, the person straightening only crouch again.

“Y/n?” his called out unsurely, as if he were afraid of mistaking you for someone else. You knew that voice, and that is not good news. Shit.

“Mark?” you were surprised to say the least, not expecting to run into an old friend. “Oh my god! How have you been?” You shoot out of your driver’s seat, instantly being engulfed into a bone crushing hug by the male.

“I have been good. Oh god, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I ran into you after so long!” Mark still held you tight your embrace, the sudden reunion making him feel giddy with excitement.

“Yes indeed,” you were the first to pull out from the hug. You took a moment to study him; black mask covering half of his face as he smiled widely, eyes crinkled and the signature cheekbones still the same as they were in the past. God, it’s really been so long. “What are you up to these days?”

“Er,” Mark scratched his head as he laughed nervously, unsure if he was allowed to give you spoilers about his new album. “I have been working on my solo album actually.” 

“Are you for real?” You found yourself hugging Mark again at the joy of his successful career. “I’m so so proud of you mate!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Mark swayed you lightly, his voice muffled due to the mask he wore. Mark was the one to pull out now, still keeping your caged as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “In no way I am gonna let you leave without a trace again,” he almost groaned.

“Promise, I won’t anymore,” you signaled to the stack of files that rested on the backseat of your car. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll just ask your boss to assign you with more tasks then,” he giggled mischievously, earning a light smack from you at the mention of such an absurd idea.

“I’ll track your way to hell to kill you again if you do something like that,” you hissed at Mark, who was still giggling at your frustrated reaction. The atmosphere became quiet as Mark looked up in the vacant sky, deep in thoughts while you waited for him to continue. Your phone buzzed against your leather coat.

[From Bullhead] : Don’t think I am overlooking your mess. This is the first and final warning from me.

You shivered, half from the cold and half from the text you just received.

“26th, sharp at 8 PM, my place.” He snapped his fingers, hooting at the realization of having a free day in his busy scheduled life.

“Okay, done.” You should have refused, you thought. But for some reason, you found yourself agreeing to his offer, you felt both sad and guilty for disappearing out of your friend’s life without a trace. However, you couldn’t ignore the greedy feeling you felt, the want to see him again. “I think I should be done around...7:30? So I think I’ll be able to make it.” You unlocked and handed him your phone.

“You have to make it,” his eyes focused on the screen of your device, swiftly typing what you assumed was him number. “Just incase, text me if I happen to forget - no I know that look, Y/n, you must text if that happens..” He rolled his eyes, knowing that how much you would be overthinking about possibly tiring him because of his busy lifestyle. Mark dialed his number from your phone before handing it back to you. You visibly snickered at the name he saved his contact with : ‘My Boo MarkLee <3’ 

“Stop pretending as if you never renamed my existence as Markie Boo,” he groans, remembering how this has been his another one of the hundred pet names he had. Your conversation was cut mid way as his phone loudly vibrated in his phone, swiftly pulling it out as the guy whined in annoyance.

“Yo, I gotta go now I guess, something came up at the company.” He looked sad, pouty. “See you around, yeah?” You were pulled into another hug by the male, he surely loved to hug as usual.

“Yes, yes. Now go. Don’t be late.” You patted his back, pulling out of the hug and shooing him away towards his car.

“See ya, Mom.” He beamed as he sped off with his car. 

“Dumbass.” You muttered, softly laughing at the name he would always call you by, despite being years younger than him. You rounded around your car, getting inside. The start was bad but the end was good nonetheless. The keys of your car jiggled as you closed the door. Again, you twisted the keys, your mood slightly better than before for which you were grateful. Your car’s ignition blared, as you positioned towards the exit of the park, subtly muttering ‘long ass ride.’

The digits ‘7:37’ glowed on the the small digital clock beside your desktop. You felt stiff, stretching your neck as your bones made those cracking noes. You stare at your toes, zoning out was your passion and you excelled at it. You snapped straight, letting out a deep sigh as you started to scheme the projects before you were to hand them over to your bullhead boss. Soon enough, you were done, muttering almost too loudly for everyone that you wished your boss would be napping off instead of being awake.

Good for you, your prayers were answered for the first time in a while. You quietly placed the files that contained all the details that needed to be checked again by your boss, quietly making your way out of his cabin as soon as possible. On you way, you informed his secretary you were leaving, her face wore distraught and annoyance but softens as she saw you approaching. Sometimes you felt sympathetic towards her, often asking the heavens to bless her with utmost patience and perseverance to deal with the bullhead.

The marble floor clicked with every step you took, the sounds eerily audible in the serene lobby. It was very rare for the lobby to be filled with people in evening, the employees would practically sprint off their seats as soon as the clock hits 7. You made your way out of the building, making a mental note to buy a gift for Mark on your way back to home. What would he like? Take outs? Homemade? Wine? You drove across the street before halting your car in front of the department store that was situated just a few blocks away from your office. The header of the store glowed, the alleys seemingly half-crowded with people of different occupations you assumed. You let out a hiss as you felt a chill run down your spine, it was almost the end of Autumn which meant Winter was just round the corner. You decided to rely on your instincts, deciding to gift your friend a fancy bottle of wine despite having zero knowledge about it.

You were never quite the fan of wine. According to you, the seemingly alcoholic drink was too expensive, plus the etiquettes that came along for its consumption would always just make your turn your head away every time you laid your eyes across one. You schemed through the white shelves filled with different tastes and colors of wine, each hailing from various corners of the world. “How do I even spell it?” You crouched down a bit to a bottle that had caught your attention, the exquisite name was starting to make your head hurt. It’s probably a white wine you thought, the transparent color of the liquid was what made you convince. But something rather nostalgic caught your sight, before you could even realize, you found your fingertips caressing the cold glass bottle of the red liquid that you held now.

“If were to be a drink, then what would I be?” You lazily laid sprawled across the couch in the living, while you boyfriend who sat on the marble floor across fumbles with the knotted bunch of cables. Jaehyun had his gaze focus of the wire maze in his hands, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted in immense concentration.

“Peach milk,” he smiled, unbeknownst to you he was actually implying a double meaning for his answer.

“And why that?” You felt his choice a bit amusing, not really expecting that as an answer.

“Because I love your ass and boobs,” he winked, only to be hit by a pillow that was resting beneath your curled legs. Jaehyun felt himself giggling by your reaction, it was cute to see you being annoyed. “Babe, c’mon. I can’t lie about it.” 

“Never mind, just forget it.” You started to get a bit pissed, hurt as well because your sensitive ass thought he would probably say something sweet that would make you heart flutter. 

“Peach milk is my favorite, that’s the main reason why,” Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the cables, the last two knots were too adamant to let go of each other. You felt yourself smiling, too wide, he definitely knew you well. Cheeky bastard.

“What about me?” he asked, eyes still focused as he working on untying the last knot.

“Hmmm...” you shifted your position on the couch, now sitting up as you stared your boyfriend’s figure for a short while.

“Red wine.” sophisticated, classy, unique, warm. If you were to describe the aura around him, these would be the first choices.

However, your answer seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention, pausing in his tracks as he got curious as to why the specific choice. He had a huge grin on his face, he adored how you remembered the specific detail of red wine being his favourite, for he mentioned it in your first date which was 2 years back. But he knew there was more to it. He knew you too well. “But why red wine?”

You kept your gaze fixated on Jaehyun as he gets up from the ground, putting the cables in a secure manner to avoid another tie war. He hugged the pillow tight which you had previously thrown on him, before propping down beside you on the couch with a tired sigh, looking at you intently. It was as if you both were having a staring contest. So you rested your head on your right hand, both staring each other with soft smiles before you continued.

“You are much more to what everyone thinks you are,” you notice how Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, still staring and trying to process what you just said.

“Just like wine, the more I know you, the more I know just how amazing you are. Both sweet and sour, but the balanced ratio of it is what makes you more admirable.” You admired how he was always able to balance things out, prior to what everyone believes about him, he had both good and bad sides to him. And that’s what made him more human, him acknowledging his flaws. That’s what made you fall for him.

Hearing you, Jaehyun thought he might dislocate his jaw anytime soon for smiling so hard. His heart started to do all sort of flips, ears starting to pink. It was at times like this when you don’t need words to express how you were feeling, silent but the communication was still present. Jaehyun slides his hand into yours, you glanced at both of your intertwined fingers before looking at him, his eyes full of hearts for you. You giggled, feeling shy at his intense stare but returning him the same way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his starry eyes which were only looking at you.

“Excuse me miss,” You jolt at the sudden change of voice coming from behind you. You whip around, a girl probably in her late teens stood nervously, her hands fidgets with the belts of her backpack. 

“Miss, you were kinda in the way so..” you felt flustered for absent-mindedly drifting into your dreamland while shopping for your friend, chiding yourself mentally in the process.

“Ah, I am so sorry,” you moved swiftly to the side to allow the teen some space to carry out her shopping. “Please, carry on.” You smiled softly. Though at the back of your mind you wanted to point out how she shouldn’t be consuming alcohol, but disregarded the urge nonetheless. Sometimes children should get to enjoy their minimal amount of fun in their youth too. You were still clutching the red wine bottle in your hand, eyeing it one last time before placing it back in the racks. You cleared your throat, as if to let the voices speaking inside your head know that you are not a stupid 20 year old anymore. You shake your head, glancing around to inspect if others were judging your state before proceeding to the counter for the random wine you picked which might have cost you half of your monthly salary. It’s okay to spend once in a while.

Mark was literally running around his apartment. Running. His head shot up as he remembered something. “Shit, fuck, are the bathroom lights okay?” he murmured to himself, sprinting off to the bathroom that was located in his vast living room first, followed by the ones in his bedroom and guestroom. Mark was still a newbie to the norms of living alone, him being a newborn living-alone man for sparsely 2 months. And he would barely be home due to his schedules. There were even times he would just forget his own bedroom.

“What else, what else,” he glanced over the whole area eyes drifting here and there before he realized something. Dumbass forgot to check if there were even enough food for two. Mark quickly scurried to the kitchen counter, the utensils were more than enough before checking his fridge. Beers? Check. Soju? Check. Kimchi? Check. Slices of chicken breast? Check. But the 33 year old still felt something was missing. Mark shifted his focus on the wooden shelf that was just above the kitchen sink, the transparent glass door of it making a creak sound as he opened it. For an apartment who’s owner was barely home, the shelf was definitely well packed and organized. It contained all sorts of ramen, tteokbokki and any other fast food you could name. “What else, what else, what else, what else,” he kept chanting, as if by some magic his chants of short memory would be heard and he would know what else was he missing out. He hunched over the lower shelf to inspect if all the sauces his housekeeper stores for him were present there. Absorbed in his thoughts, Mark did not notice the sudden sound of his bell going off, before the sounds just got repeated and even more louder. 

“What the fuck?” his eyebrows creased in annoyance, cussing out all the profanities he had in his vocabulary at the visitor’s insolent mannerism. Mark was beyond pissed, the person behind the other side of the door not only disrupted his memory battle but also had the audacity to ring the bell like a 3 year old in the middle of the night. Instead of just answering from the intercom, he directly opened the entrance door. “Look, it’s like 11 in the night - Hyung?” Mark halted his rant session as he realized it was Jaehyun standing in front of his house. Covered in black shirt, black mask, black pants - black everything, it would take a while for others who did not know him personally to recognize the member of the top boy group in the industry.

“Were you shitting or something,” Jaehyun smiled before casually giving his best friend a hug. Mark pulls out some of the spare slippers he had stored, while Jaehyun sits on the wooden step as he unties the knots of his black adidas. As Jaehyun get ups, he looks over to the other male standing in front of him, then down at the slippers and then again to the male.

“What?” Mark laughed, his hands shifting to the sides of his waist.

“Mark, please don’t go shopping by yourself next time,” Jaehyun silently judged Mark for offering him the fluffly colourful pink body and yellow polka dots slippers, similar to the ones he was wearing but the combination in opposite. 

“I got them from the BOGO offer going on in the supermarket just down the lane,” Mark wiggled his toes under the furry layer of clothing, slightly humming at the texture. “Bro this shit comfortable and cute, you can’t deny that.”

Jaehyun gives him another look, amused at how his bandmate’s old habits were still the same. “I help you out with your fashion choices next time. Don’t worry.” He patted Mark’s should, a sympathetic grin on his face as he anticipated the other male’s dramatic reaction. 

“Oh please,” Mark scoffed. “More like you need my and Johnny hyung’s assistance for your monotonous wardrobe!”

Jaehyun laughed at his friend’s rebuttal before lazily propping himself on the bean sack in the living room with a low hum. Oddly enough, Mark’s apartment felt more homely than his own apartment which was just above a few floors.

“But what brings you here?” Mark walks over to his fridge, judging by his friend’s sudden visit, he knew drinks had become a necessary part of the night. “And what about Hayoung?”

“What about her?” Jaehyun raised his eyebrow at Mark, skillfully catching the beer Mark had tossed to him after asking about Hayoung, Jaehyun’s, well complicated girl something.

“I though you guys might just....I don’t know, be official or something.” Mark stole a glance towards his friend, nervously opening his can. The momentary pin drop silence was an indicator, he indeed blurted something he should not have. The fizzy hiss of the beer can being opened barely broke the ice.

“I don’t do things like official,” Jaehyun scoffed, producing a low sigh after sipping the beer. Mark decided not to further press his friend, despite having an old unresolved grudge against Jaehyun somewhere deep within him. It had been years since all of that had happened, but he still felt hostility creep up inside every time he remembers that night, that week, that month. After all, it was you that Jaehyun had completely broken, torn and ripped apart.

Unbeknownst to the rummaging thoughts inside the mind of his bandmate, it took a while for the older to realize how oddly clean and organized the apartment looked. Jaehyun turned to Mark, eyebrows raised with mischievousness coating his words. “You having someone for the night tomorrow?”

Mark almost made a disgusted face but instead opted to scrunch. “Bro, I don’t have Tinder, neither do I wanna be a carrier of STDs.” Mark placed his empty can on the small glass table, simultaneously letting out a tired huff. Jaehyun almost took an offense to the statement, the attack was definitely but indirectly made towards him. But he decided to shrug it off, Mark was not lying after all. Jaehyun did not even know half of the girls’ names he had slept with, someday or another mixing up names which ends in him getting kicked out or being cursed out. That was what had happened that night as well. 

“Okay, I forgot. Hayoung, yes. Speak.” Jaehyun shot an incredulous look to the younger, as if he was able to read his mind or something. Mark only furrowed his eyebrows at the reaction.

“I-I....got kicked out,” Jaehyun’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the sharp eared male was able to catch his friend’s low murmur. Mark stifled his giggle, only to receive a glare from his friend. Jaehyun ran his fingers through his newly dyed lilac hair. Fucking embarrassing.

“But what made her do that?”

Jaehyun felt chills run down his spine as the scenario replayed in his head. He shivered despite the heater being on, an amused Mark glancing while chugging down the small remaining amount of beer. Mark was being a gentleman trying to conceal his laughter as Jaehyun rambled how he managed to fuck up yet another good hook-up buddy. At this point, Mark was not even surprised. Victim to his obvious facial expressions, Mark hated lying, and equally hated being lied to as well. Jaehyun side glanced his friend, a loud annoyed snort escaping from him. “Having fun, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean it’s fun — sorry,” Mark clears his throat. He should be the type of friend who gives advices instead of laughing. Mark wiggled in his seat, distorting the empty can before having a perfect shot in the trashcan just a few feet away from him. Smooth one.

“I think I might retire, or just quit after the current contract ends,” Jaehyun felt tight, the words came out from him in a way too suffocating form. Mark visibly tenses, his laidback posture now crouching forward to his friend. Mark was too pre-occupied in his escalating solo career, the support he had been getting even before the official stage was way too much for him to fathom, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. A stinging guilt crept up inside him, chiding himself of being such an inconsiderate friend. “It’s high-time I start to live on my own accord.”

Mark decided to rather not pressurize the half-drunk dude with his numerous questions as to why or what has made him to take such a step. Jaehyun struggled to keep his eyes open, exhaustion was taking over his body ever faster now that he had booze in his system. Jaehyun would have rather opted to just spend the night on the couch (he preferred Mark’s limited edition long L shaped sofa over any king sized bed) but the guy decided to not get welcomed by his mate as ‘good morning.’ Mark put a hand on Jaehyun’s knee, an attempt to stop the non-stop stomping which was a very well-known drunk habit of him. Piling the blankets he just brought, the younger warned again, eyes like red lazer lights before trudging towards his bedroom. 

Feet wobbly, Jaehyun struggles to drag his build to switch off the remaining lights in the living room, glancing throughout the long empty space. He gulped down harshly, the familiar empty feeling creeping back to him which he had been avoiding for so long — for years. Jaehyun took a deep sigh, the heavy feeling feeling weighing down his chest as he took light steps towards the big glass window which granted him the view of the whole city. His eyes flickered at the luminous sight. He felt big but small, full, content but numb and empty. 

“Hyung, you’re still awake?” a sleepy voice spoke from behind, breaking out Jaehyun from his trance. 

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to process an answer. “Uh yeah. just like that. You go sleep.”

Mark shrugged, walking towards his bed as Jaehyun plopped down harshly on the duvet, wincing slightly as he felt a sprain in his lower back. With the alcohol slowly losing its effect on him with each passing second, Jaehyun started to feel more sober, more drawn back into the reality. He hated it. This feeling he was feeling.

Mark was having a rather difficult time to fall asleep. He even put on a random sleeping eye mask he uses for travelling, but alas that did not help either. He was too giddy, too excited for tomorrow. Pulling up the blankets over his head, Mark was assured he was safe from everyone, even maybe from God as a huge grin breaks out on his face. As much as he hates to admit it, Mark loved how things turned out to be the way they were.

“Oh god, this is so awkward. Oh god can I please please just die already?” Mark halted on his steps at the voice, glistening in sweats after the recent stage. He thought it would be an adventure to opt for the public washroom in disguise since the green rooms’ ones were all occupied by the rest of the members; and boy, Mark was really giving his all hold his pee.  

“OH GOD!” the sudden yelp caused the male to shriek quietly, muttering an inaudile ‘jesus’. Despite the odds, Mark decided not to test his luck, holding in the bubbling feeling just before explosion as much as he could. Muttering quiet curses, the male struggled to hold his posture as he stealthily tried to get to the other side of the stairs. Too busy in his on the way to urination voyage, Mark realized it was too late, he bumped. Bumped into someone. A girl. Hell yeah fucked. Panic crept at the back of his throat as he anticipated what was coming forth. Him being surrounded by numerous fan as he desperately tries to hold his pee. What a fucking sight.

“Look, I know you might be a staff or something,” Mark whipped his head at your voice. “But please just oh god,” you rambled, leaving the man standing with his legs crossed tightly in utter confusion. “I had no idea — Mark Lee?”

The colors from his faced drained, Mark turned casper for a split second. 

“PLEASE!” he was quick to react, half-whispering as he desperately caught your hands. “Please don’t just, uh.., shout or something.”

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “I uh have no reason to do so?” You stated, observing how he was literally squirming, it did not take you long to understand that the canadian needed to go the washroom as soon as possible. ”Oh!” You quickly moved. “Sorry for blocking your way!” Before he could even say thank you, you disappeared without any trace. Mark made a quick mental note to thank you, well that only if he ever happens to cross paths with you again. And deep down, he wised he would. On the other hand, you let out another distressed growl, promising to all of the heavens that never will you be ever accompanying your cousin sister, or let alone come to any concerts from now on. The stunt your drunken cousin had pulled just a while ago was humiliating enough, but of course, she had to spice it up by vomiting on the hallways just in front of the green room. You silently prayed and hope with all your might that maybe they will be generous enough not to sue you or ask for compensation for the mess, looking around cautiously for any employees before you sprinted off for the exit door, and yes, dragging the passed out stunt lady.

Mark felt as if he had a halo above his head, the water balloon inside him finally set free. But he had to race when he saw his phone buzzing with notifications, all of them belonging to his manager or the group chat of the members chanting same syllables ‘Where are you’ ‘show starts in 2′ ‘get yo ass here’. It did not take the rapper too while before he reached the green room, the makeup artists and stylists immediately wrapping themselves around him with brushes and hair sprays. He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he replayed the encounter he just had. Johnny raised an eyebrow with an amused grin on his face. 

“What’s with the smile, bro?” Johnny pulls up some random exercises to relieve the tension in his muscles.

Instead of dodging his question, Mark replied, still smiling, but wider. “The pee voyage was a nice one.”

Johnny judged the younger for a second before chuckling and heading towards the stage. The loud noises from the fans echoed throughout the whole arena, full of green lightsticks gleeming like blossoming spring garden. No wonder I called them grass, Mark thought. But today, he was looking for a rather specific individual, his eye scanning almost all the faces in the crowd. He hoped to see you again, smiling gleefully as he performed, but thought that it was too greedy of him to want this much in a span of a day. And so he performed, for the first time without any pressure of doing good, enjoying every moment of the stage he was on and yet again, wished that maybe, maybe your paths will collide with his again.

.

.

.

part 2

[thegreenwolf]

[9-21-21] Today's Fall Equinox Skull Scrying comes from Roe Deer. Here is what he had to say:

I feel the blood pumping through my veins; I feel my strength wax, and I long to clash antlers with my foes and find a mate as well. Though the days shorten and the nights grow chill, I am driven by the heat within me. I prepare all year for this moment, a defiant cry against the coming winter, and a promise for a fertile spring full of new life. The year cycles onward, and I know not whether I will live to see the days lengthen, for time is never promised to any being. So I make the most of the moment, grateful for this day and my place within it.

What will you make of this moment? The past is gone and done, the future is yet to open, but as you live and breathe right now, be aware of who you are and what you are doing. Even if you are at some menial task, something you would rather not be doing, take a moment to marvel at the life that floods your cells, the heat of your body, the molecules that sing of the birth of the universe yet. Remember that you are here in the heartbeat of the universe--here and gone--and is it not amazing that against all odds, you were here nonetheless?

Do not let this be a fear of death, but a celebration of life! For the long heat of the summer is calming down to embers, and the forest is resting. Rest is as much a part of living as anything else, and it helps make the waking hours more fruitful. Find ways to appreciate the experience of rest and recuperation, rather than always feeling guilty that you aren't accomplishing more. You are still a living, warm mammal, and you deserve to take care of yourself.

Yes, we are easing into the waning of the year, and it may seem sad. But even as one cycle winds to a close, another begins. There is always the opportunity to create something new, every moment of every day. Do you not make resolutions at the beginning of your year, which occurs in the chill of winter? The fruits of the trees may offer you energy on a new path that allows you opportunities never seen before. Or they may simply fuel you as you continue to walk a trail that you have long since begun, but are far from completing. Either way, enjoy the view as you move through space and time.

Finally, even should a cycle come to a close--and that includes the great, weighty ones full of meaning--you do not need to enter that time with defeat. Burn brightly in the autumn eve, like the leaves upon the trees. Feel the beat of your heart, and the breeze against your face. And know that every ending has new beginnings that need not necessarily wait for the spring to return.

You can order my book Skull Scrying: Animal Skulls in Divinatory Trance, at https://thegreenwolf.com/books/skull-scrying/ – and yes, even if you don’t have a Paypal account you CAN use the Paypal option to pay with a debit or credit card!

[kimjoongs]

—ateez college au series [cs]

i imagine san to be a photography major

he has a very creative eye and looks at the world through a different kind of lens than everyone else

he’s been interested in photography ever since he middle school when he went to a photography exhibit on a field trip

san is a very expressive person and he wanted to somehow transfer his emotions into something tangible

and what better way to do that than through photography?

san has two cameras: film and digital

in high school, he didn’t have enough money to buy a professional camera so he just stuck to his phone camera

but when he got a job and collected enough money, he went and bought his first camera, the film one

you best bet san treasured it more than anything

he tried his best not to use it as much because there’s only a limited number of film and buying more was e x p e n s i v e

but when san graduated high school his parents gifted him with a digital camera too

wherever san goes, he’s always taking pictures, whether it’s on his phone or cameras

he usually uses his film camera for more personal things, like pictures of his family, friends, or places that are important to him, and he either hangs them up in his apartment or turn them in for assignments

and he uses his digital camera for editing purposes, like double exposure or halftones

his roommate, wooyoung, serves as his personal model from time to time

“hey wooyoung stand by that tree for a sec, i wanna get a picture” “omg wooyoung wait sit still, the lighting is so good here” “WOOYOUNG GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE IT’S GOLDEN HOUR”

wooyoung is annoyed bc of this sometimes, but as soon as he takes one look at his roommate eagerly bouncing on the tips of his toes, camera clutched in his hands, he can’t bring himself to be upset about it

also the one time san submitted a photo of wooyoung for an assignment he received a perfect score on it so—

one time wooyoung asked san if he ever modeled for his own photos, and san said he’d much rather be behind the camera than in front of it

except for the photos his parents made him take when he was a kid, san never really liked having his picture taken

he always felt more comfortable taking someone else’s

oh and also because san doesn’t let a n y o n e touch his cameras, not even wooyoung

there was a time where wooyoung offered to take san’s photo for him and he practically leaped away when wooyoung reached for his camera

everyone in the fine arts building knows who san is because he’s always running around taking pictures

their campus always has a bunch of stray cats wandering around, and if photography wasn’t san’s weakness, then it was cats

“omg wooyoung look there’s a cat i need to take a picture of it—” “san you’ve already taken twenty pictures of the same cat, let’s go before we’re late to class”

san is also such a friendly and gentle soul, so it wasn’t hard for him to charm all of his professors

one professor in particular became really fond of san because he reminds him of himself when he was younger

he became sort of a father figure to san and even offered to give san tips on how to take better photos

he also gave san permission to go into the darkroom after class hours or on the weekends should he need them

you can imagine how much san took advantage of that (in a good way ofc)

if san wasn’t running around taking pictures, then he was probably in the darkroom developing them

for a few months, san was pretty much the only person who used the darkroom after hours, so he never really bothered knocking on the door before entering

but the one time he didn’t, he almost ran into someone on the way in

at the sight of someone else in the darkroom, san let out the loudest shriek, jumping backwards and hitting the door

you flinched at san’s shriek and stumbled backwards, catching yourself by grabbing onto the edge of a table

for a minute, the two of you just stared at each other, still in shock

san snapped out of it first

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you. i thought no one else was in here, ahh so sorry i should’ve knocked”

your heart rate finally went down to normal, and you straightened yourself up, giving the sheepish boy in front of you a gentle smile

“no it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

san practically sighed in relief when he saw that you weren’t mad at him “well, now that we’ve officially scared the crap out of each other—” he stuck his hand out, flashing you a dimpled smile “i’m san, it’s nice to meet you”

your lips quirked up and you took his hand in yours, shaking it firmly “i’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you too”

and that was how san, a photography major, met you, also a photography major

apparently the two of you had managed to charm the same professor, and he gave the both of you access to the darkroom

you found out that san lived in the same apartment building as you, you being on the 3rd floor and him on the 2nd

the two you became fast friends due to your shared love photography

during visitation hours, you’ll either be in his apartment or he’ll be in yours

wooyoung, who isn’t a photography major, sometimes looks at the two you with the most confused expression because you guys will start firing off, using terminology that he doesn’t understand

sometimes if it gets too much, he’ll call yeosang and beg him to get him out of there

one time when you came over, you noticed the wall above san’s desk was practically covered in pictures

most of it was of people whom you assumed were san’s family, but you noticed wooyoung in a few of them, and then there were 6 other boys pictured too whom you weren’t quite familiar with

“hey san, are these friends of yours?” you asked

san looked up to where you were pointing, and his expression immediately softened

“yeah, that’s the gang. i use that wall to hang pictures of the people who are important to me”

your eyes widened, you weren’t expecting san to share that personal piece of info with you, but it made your heart warm nonetheless

“you’re such a sap san,” you teased, poking him in the arm

he rolled his eyes at you playfully, shoving your shoulder gently “shut up and get back to editing your photos”

for the next few months, your friendship with san grew tenfold

the two of you would often meet up after class just to hang out or grab some food

you both began to value the other’s opinion and would sometimes email or show each other photos you each took, asking what the other thought of it

you thought that having another person aside from a professor view your work, especially someone as passionate as san, made you improve

san always gave you his honest opinion, even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but you were grateful nonetheless

one day, san was given a project by one his professors to photograph the same person or object for a whole month

and usually san would go and ask wooyoung, but he decided to change it up this time

so one day when the two of you were having lunch, san turned to look at you, his face set in a serious expression

“y/n, i have a very, very important question to ask you”

you raised your eyebrow at him, not used to seeing san’s face so serious

“what is it?” you asked, sitting up straight

“so i have a major assignment for class where i need to take pictures of the same person or object for an entire month, and i was wondering...if you wouldn’t mind being that person?”

your eyes widened, and san took this as a bad sign because his face immediately went from being serious to panicked “of course i’m not going to force you if you don’t want to!” 

san looked up at you, patiently waiting for your response

it’s not that you didn’t want to, it’s just... “why me?” you asked

one corner of san’s lips quirked upwards, making his dimple appear

“why not?” he replied

“i’ve just...i’ve never really modeled for someone else’s pictures before,” you said sheepishly

san waved a hand at you “you don’t have to worry about that. trust me, i’ll make you look absolutely breathtaking” he flashed you a playful wink, and you rolled your eyes

“okay fine, i’ll do it”

and for the next two weeks, san has been snapping pictures of you left and right

most of the pictures he took were candid pictures, which you didn’t mind...until he took a picture of you eating your sandwich mid-bite

“san delete that right now!”

“nah y/n, i’m putting this in the blackmail folder”

“CHOI SAN”

tbh you thought being san’s model would feel awkward, but he actually made you feel super comfortable

he would always tell you that you were doing great, giving you a thumbs up after every picture that was taken

you enjoyed having san be your hype man, he made you feel really confident in yourself

during one of your sessions, san wanted to get a few posed pictures instead of candid, so he took you to one of the open fields on campus

it was the middle of autumn so the trees were a beautiful shade of bright oranges, maroons, and vivid yellows

san told you to stand underneath one of the trees

“okay so for this one, i want you to look away from the camera, and i’ll snap a couple photos, yeah?”

you nodded your head and proceeded to pose against the tree, eyes focusing on anything except the camera

meanwhile, san was moving back and forth and side to side, trying to capture multiple angles, some close up and some farther away

“alright y/n, for these next ones i want you to stare directly in the camera. you can choose whether to smile or not, okay?”

san readied himself, placing the viewfinder over his right eye

through it he could see you, still posing nearby the tree

however, san’s many years of experience with photography wasn’t enough to prepare him for what was to happen next

because as soon as your eyes made contact with the camera, there was a soft gust of wind, soft enough to carry a few fallen leaves and have them float around you

caught off guard by the sudden flurry of leaves, a quiet gasp left your lips, and then your eyes scrunched together as you let out the softest giggle

and then click

san’s finger froze on the shutter button, his mouth gaping slightly

he slowly lowered the camera from his face, eyes glazed over and mouth still open

you hadn’t noticed him take the picture, too focused on playing with the leaves flying around you

san tore his eyes away from you for just a moment, glancing down at his camera to check the picture he just took

what he saw made him choke on his breath

because there you were

he captured the picture at the exact moment you had burst into a bout of giggles, the multi-colored leaves were blurred near the edges, framing your face perfectly

the sun hit the surface of your skin perfectly, highlighting your features

your eyes were scrunched shut and your lips were quirked up, displaying the most perfect smile

for the first time in his, choi san was rendered...speechless

he had never seen something so...so...beautiful

“san?” your voice knocked him out of his stupor, and he whipped his head up to look at you, only to be rendered speechless again

you were staring at him with the softest of gazes, a gentle, serene smile on your lips

“how’d the picture look?” you asked curiously

san didn’t say anything, but his mind was racing with a billion thoughts

his lack of a response made you nervous, and you frowned “did...did it not turn out well? was it because i wasn’t looking? i’m sorry i can take it again if—”

“no!” san interrupted, standing up quickly

“no y/n, it was...it was perfect,” he breathed out

the look on his face and the tone of his voice were enough to make your cheeks flush a deep, deep red

you’ve never seen or heard san sound like that

it almost seemed like he was...he was...

“o-oh, do you mind if i see it then?” you asked, taking a small step towards him

san had allowed you to see the pictures, and you were amazed at how well they turned out

you turned to san and gave him a playful smile “wow, you were right. you did make me look ‘absolutely breathtaking’”

you were expecting san to scoff or say smth along the lines of “i told you so”

but he didn’t

instead he looked at you with the most sincere expression on his face, and he said “no, you did that on your own”

the sky was beginning to darken, so the two of you decided to head back to your apartments, bidding each other goodbye at the elevator

as soon as san reached his apartment, he practically shoved the door open and ran inside, scaring the shit out of poor wooyoung who was watching a movie in the living room

san didn’t even bother sending his roommate a greeting, opting to flee to his own room instead and slamming the door shut

he immediately whipped out his camera, took out the memory card, and inserted it into his laptop

the pictures he took of you earlier popped up on the screen, and san’s eyes immediately scanned for the one he wanted

once he found it, he enlarged the photo and, for the third time that day, choi san was rendered speechless

his chest began to hurt, and he reached up, clutching at the fabric of his sweater right above his heart

now...san had always had an inkling in his mind that he may have the tiniest crush on you

but he always waved it off, claiming that he just really liked you as a friend

but after what happened today, he can finally confirm it

choi san liked you

and they weren’t the trivial kind, the ones that lasted for only a moment and left soon after

no, these feelings burned with longing

but unlike most people, those who chose to deny their feelings and keep it to themselves, san was the complete opposite

he wasn’t the type to shy away from something, or in this case someone, who made him feel such strong emotions

he was going to do something about it...and he knew exactly how to do it

for the remaining weeks left in the month, san still took pictures of you for the assignment

but it was different this time

instead of his usual loud exclamations he used to hype you up, it was replaced with the fond smiles and eyes practically dripping with adoration

you didn’t know how to feel about this new development, but that didn’t mean you didn’t like it

it was nearing the end of the month, which meant that san’s project was reaching its end too

the two of you were having lunch together, just chatting about random things, when san suddenly pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket, handing it to you

“what’s this?” you asked, taking the slip of paper and reading it

“it’s an invitation. my class is putting on an exhibit to showcase the photos we’ve taken the past month, but it’s a private event so only people who were given invitations are allowed in.” san leaned forward, gazing at you with a soft twinkle in his eye

“will you go?” he asked

you nodded, smiling “of course, i’ve been waiting to see how the pictures turned out!”

san laughed at your enthusiasm, but he could feel the pounding of his heart going a mile a minute

a few days later was when the exhibition took place, and you arrived at the gallery, decked out in the fanciest clothes you could find

after the guard checked over your invitation, you walked inside and was surprised at the sheer number of people who were present

you looked around, searching for the familiar dimpled smile you’ve grown very fond of

“well, well, well look who finally showed up” 

your face broke out into a smile when you saw wooyoung walk up to, dressed in a fitted button up with black slacks

“damn woo, first time seeing you in something other than a hoodie and sweats,” you teased,

wooyoung rolled his eyes in response, but he held out his hand for you

“come on, sannie is waiting for you”

you happily placed your hand in his, eager to see san’s display, and wooyoung couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm

he led you around the exhibit, carefully maneuvering around the large clumps of people until he finally stopped at a door

wooyoung opened it and gently tugged on your arm, moving your body in front of his

you looked over your shoulder at him, confusion written all over your face “wooyoung what are you—”

but before you could finish your sentence, wooyoung shoved you the rest of the way in the room, flashing you a wink before closing the door, leaving you standing in the darkness

“wha—jung wooyoung!” you reached for the doorknob, about to yank the door open

when the lights in the room suddenly switched on

you gasped, stepping back from the door and whipping your body around

what you saw made you freeze

because displayed on the walls of the room were blown up pictures of you

some were candid, and some were posed

it took you a second, but then you realized: these were the pictures san took of your for his project

you carefully walked towards one of the pictures posted on the wall

you remembered when it was taken; it was when you and san went to a cat cafe near the school

you were sitting at one of the tables, playing with a cat that decided to jump up on your lap

san thought it would be the perfect opportunity to snap a picture of that moment, and so he did

as you walked around, the memories of the past month with san started coming back to you

once you reached the middle of the room, you noticed a picture that was significantly larger than the rest

you let out a soft gasp

it was the picture san took of you in front of the tree a few weeks ago

you could hardly believe that the person in the photo was you

“which one’s your favorite?”

jumping at the sound of an oh so familiar voice, you peered over your shoulder only to see san leaning against one of the walls

he was decked out in an outfit similar to wooyoung’s, with his hair slicked back

needless to say...he looked amazing

you breathed out a laugh, fully turning around to look at him “it’s hard to choose. i just look amazing in every single one”

san’s smirk softened into a smile, and he pushed himself off the wall, making his way towards you

“which one’s your favorite sannie?” you asked

san bit his lip, cocking his head to the side

“hmm...i’d have to say all of them”

you giggled “is that so? why do you say that?”

san glanced over at you, and you almost choked on your breath at the look on his face

it was the same look he always gave you from behind the camera: pure, pure, pure adoration

you’d be lying if you said your heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute

san reached over, taking your hand in his and locking your fingers together

your eyes widened

san took a small step towards you, internally sighing with relief when you didn’t back away

you just stood there, waiting to see what he was about to do next

“they’re all my favorite because....” another step closer “...because you’re in them”

and that was the exact moment your heart stopped

san chuckled softly at your frozen state, and he brought your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the top of yours

you swore your legs were about to give up

“people are about to come in any second now to see my display, but if you’re willing to wait for me until after, then i have something really important to tell you,” san said

you were at a loss for words, your mind stuck trying to process everything that just happened in a span of two minutes

just as san let go of your hand, the door to the room opened and wooyoung’s head popped in

“hey san, are you ready? people are waiting”

flashing you one more smile, san swiftly turned on his heel and nodded, gesturing for wooyoung to let people in

as soon as the crowd started filtering into the room, you were broken out of your frozen state by wooyoung gently pulling you to the other side of the room

and for the rest of the night, you stood in the back corner with wooyoung, quietly watching san walk around and the room and chatting with the people as they observed his work

you admit you were kind of embarrassed at the amount of people who were just staring at your pictures posted on the wall

wooyoung would notice and he’d tease you about it

after a while, the exhibition finally came to an end

wooyoung had left a few minutes earlier, which left only you and san in the room

as san made his way over to you, you averted your eyes to the ground, suddenly feeling awkward

but then you saw san extend his hand out towards you

“let’s talk outside,” he said softly, quietly encouraging you when you were hesitant to take his hand

once the two of you were outside, san led you to a nearby bench

despite his confidence from earlier, you could tell san was nervous now, from the way he was biting his lip and fiddling with your hand, which he was still holding

you waited patiently for him to speak, choosing to ignore the way your heart was about to explode inside your chest

after a few moments, san took a deep breath and looked directly into your eyes

“y/n...you know how much our friendship means to me right? when you and i first became friends, i was so happy to have finally met someone who shares the same love and passion for photography as i do. i truly enjoyed every moment we hung out together, and i especially enjoyed having you as my model for my project...”

he squeezed your hand, and you squeezed his back, urging him to continue

“and during the entire month where we spent every single day together, it made me realize that...i wanted us to be something more than...more than just friends. so what i’m trying to say is, i really really like you y/n, and i was wondering if we could give ‘us’ a try?”

it was completely silent for a few moments, but as san gazed at you with the most hopeful look on his face, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh

you honestly didn’t know what you were feeling, all you knew was that it was warm and comforting and that the only person who could make you feel that way was...san

“choi san, you are just as expressive with your words as you are with your photos,” you laughed, and you swore you’ve never seen him smile so big

“s-so does that mean...?” he trailed off

you smiled back at him, squeezing his hand once more “yes san, i am willing to give us a try”

now let’s just say, being in a relationship with choi san was so...refreshing

in the beginning of, you were kind of worried that things were going to change between the two of you

but when you saw san the next day, he greeted you with his usual sunshiney smile and that’s when you knew things were only going to get better from that point on

san is normally very touchy, but now that the two of you were dating, he became extra touchy

whenever the two of you are together, he’ll always have an arm around your shoulder or waist, or he’ll be holding your hand

he just feels more at ease if he’s holding onto some part of you

but of course he’d stop if you told him you were uncomfortable

also san would take a picture of you every chance he could get

the camera roll in his phone would just be pictures of you

he even made his own folder with just your pictures but would he ever tell you??? psshh no

one time wooyoung caught a glimpse of it and he snatched the phone out of san’s hand so quick, yelling that he was going to show you

when you came by their apartment that day, you walked in on the two of them in the middle of a wrestling match

wooyoung managed to toss the phone to you, and you caught it, checking to see what the two of them were fighting about

once you saw what it was, you blushed so hard and san groaned in defeat, rolling off of wooyoung and onto the floor

as you scrolled through the folder, you started to pout

“saaaan some of these are so ugly why do you still have them?”

your boyfriend whipped his head up so fast, and he had the most offended look on his face

“excuse me?? are you doubting my photography skills?”

you shoved the phone in his face “san this is literally a blurry picture of me mid-sneeze how could this possibly look good?”

but what he doesnt know is that you also have your own folder on your phone with just pictures of him in it

omg when the professor found out that the two of you were dating, the hugest grin broke out on his face and he was just oh so happy his two favorite students were together

when you and san are in the darkroom together, he’ll sometimes walk up behind you and just wrap his arms around you while you were developing your pictures

you’d always complain, claiming that he was distracting you, but tbh you secretly enjoyed it

you and san haven’t had your first kiss with each other yet, and that was because you were both too hesitant to be the one to make the move first

until one night

san had invited you to his apartment for a movie marathon since wooyoung was spending the night at yeosang’s

whilst san was getting the tv set up, you were sitting on the chair at his desk, mindlessly just looking around

you’ve been in san’s room countless times at this point, and pretty much everything looked the same since the last time you’ve been in there

but when you looked up at the wall above his desk, the same wall where san hung up a bunch of pictures of his friends and family, you noticed that there was an extra picture right in the center

your heart skipped a beat when you realized that it was the same picture san took months ago, the one where you were standing underneath the tree

you remembered what san had told you the first time you asked about the wall: “i use that wall to hang pictures of the people who are important to me”

san was too busy fidgeting with the tv to notice the look of pure joy on your face

“okay everything’s set up,” he turned towards you “y/n what movie do you wanna—mmph!”

san’s question was cut off by you throwing yourself into his arms and slamming your lips into yours

he staggered backwards, caught off guard

san was frozen for a few seconds, but then he relaxed and began to kiss you back

it was your first kiss with him and vice versa, and you could practically feel your heart getting ready to burst

when the two of you pulled away, san leaned his forehead against yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips

“not that i’m complaining, but what was that for?”

you smiled at him “i’m just happy that i’m worthy enough to be put on your wall”

san’s face dawned with realization and he let out a breathy chuckle, tugging you closer to him and wrapping you up in a hug

“you were always worthy enough, it just took me stupidly long to realize it”

oh yeah san loves that picture of you so much that he made it his lockscreen and wooyoung wouldn’t stop teasing him about it for weeks

ofc you made him your lockscreen too

now don’t get me wrong, san is the absolute best hype man you could ever ask for

but sometimes a hype man needs their own hype man

so on days where san isn’t feeling like his usual cheerful self, you step up

now you’re the one feeding him compliments and giving him the warmest hugs

and when that doesn’t work, one of san’s weaknesses is kisses so you’ll cup his face in your hands and just plant the tiniest kisses on his cheeks, nose, chin, forehead, and eyes

it usually gets him in a giddy mood and he’ll eventually start giggling halfway through

when you see him crack that first smile, you get all excited and he just stares at you with the fondest expression on his face

san also likes it when you play with his hair, so he’ll lay his head on your lap and that’s when you know to just weave your fingers through his dark strands, occasionally massaging his scalp

you laugh because san reminds you of a cat whenever he lays on you

speaking of cats, the two of you practically adopted all of the cats that wander around campus

the two of you are honestly just so domestic and soft, everyone at your university practically melts when they see the two of you walking around holding hands

overall just a wholesome wholesome relationship

[catboysimulator]

Story Four - The Matron’s Honor

Moons have gone by ever since Azhi'li has left Ul'dah; has left his old life behind. It is now the autumnal season, yet there is not much of a change in the desert, just some nippier nights... but there sure has been a change within the Sankres.

Ever since Azhi'li's arrival, the leaders as well as the elders have already been in the talks about a coming of age rite. There are children on the cusp of being ready for the rite; the Matron's Honor, and have been in preparation for it all year. The elders and handlers were prepared for the children they knew of, but certainly didn't expect one of them to be returning after twenty-four summers.

Azhi'li had no idea as to what was being spoken about amongst the three groups, until one evening when he was approached by G'sena. 

"Mijo, I know you haven't been here for very long, but... Your cousin, uncle, the elders, handlers, and I have been talking to each other about a coming of age rite ceremony for you."

Hearing his uncle, Azhi'li blinked owlishly before lifting his head from his bowl with his cheeks stuffed with caldo.

"-- hmpf?"

"You do not have to do it if you do not wish! But, we were just thinking...if you would like to do it, you have the option."

Swallowing down his caldo, he continues to stare at Sena silently before looking down at his bowl.

"... Really? Do-- y'all want me to?"

"Only if you do, mijo. We would never force you, but if you wish to do it, we would be thrilled."

Contemplating, the red Seeker rubs his thumbs along the rim of the ceramic bowl, before giving small nods and a smile, looking back up at his uncle.

"... Yeah. I think I would like to do that, tio."

With a brilliant grin, Sena would laugh and cheer happily, moving over to Azhi'li and ruffling his hair with a hug. "Andale, mijo, that's what I love to hear! We will prepare everything for you as well, then."

"When is it going t'be?"

"Within three sennights."

"O-oh. Uh. What do I have t'do?"

"You don't have to do anything until it gets closer to that time. Four days before the rite, you will be taken to the fledgelings where you will spend three days and nights in their nest, preening their feathers and familiarizing yourself with them. This will give them the chance to also learn about you. On the fourth day, you will climb your way up to Azeyma's Watch where you will meet Rahja, the matron. We will inform you on what needs to be done when that time comes, but for now, relax and wait for the day. Prepare yourself mentally, if you'd like, but I am confident you will do well, sobrino," he encourages with a smile, petting Azhi'li's head.

"And, when that time comes and all has gone well...you will come back down, and be able to fully take on your birth name-- if you wish to.  We call you that now, or at least I do, but if you are willing to take on the name, then everyone will happily call you Dhezi. It is your choice," he mentions, though his expression was almost-- pleading?

Azhi'li blinks a bit before his ears lower, giving his uncle a gentle half-smile. "I'll think ‘bout it, tio."

At that, Sena takes in a breath but continues to smile, nodding and pressing his forehead to his nephew’s. "Alright, sobrino. Whatever you decide, we will respect your decision. Now, I shall leave you to your devices, I have to leave for a few suns and visit the surrounding tribes."

"Okay, tio. I'll see you later, aye?"

"Of course."

He presses a kiss to the crown of his nephew's head before patting his shoulder, slinging a bag over his shoulder and passing through the tapestry of their home.

-------------------------

As the suns passed, Azhi'li had come to learn more and more about the Matron's Honor. It is when the matron griffin fully recognizes someone into the tribe for the rest of their life. It is usually done for children, yet also those who have later joined the tribe as refugees. Even if someone were to leave the tribe after their rite, they would still be able to call the Sankres their home and return whenever they wish. 

Yet, apparently, the matron didn't always recognize someone into the tribe. Whether it is because the person has hidden intentions, or they are simply not ready. This does not mean the end-all of everything, but that the person needs more time to figure things out for themselves, or have help from the Sankres.

This made Azhi'li quite nervous; the possibility of not being recognized. He understands that it's not a permanent thing and that he might need time, but... He also understands the history of his father. Of what his sire did and the damage he has done to the tribe, before Sena took care of him and took over leadership. 

What if his sire's reputation follows him, and the matron sees something in him that he is not aware of? To an outsider, it may seem absolutely ridiculous for a griffin to be the judge of one's worth, yet it is something that the Sankres have relied on, and they have not been led astray. Even Nhogu was not immediately acknowledged by the matron at that time, for she saw something. Yet, he was then recognized after a few more attempts.

Azhi'li knows he has no underlying motives! He never came to the tribe with any, but he's scared anyway! In hindsight, it's such a silly thing, and he knows... yet he was still filled with paranoia nonetheless.

With each passing day that came closer to the rite, his paranoia was more and more apparent. Tani saw this and huffed, yoinking her cousin by his shoulders and rattling him. "Stop it. You are psychin' yerself out fer no reason, an' I know y'know that," he states, firmly. 

"But, what if--?"

"Ah-ah-ah! Sst. Zip it. Another word outta ya 'bout this whole thing an' I'll knock ya around, got it?"

Azhi'li clamped his mouth shut at that, sighing heavily with a frown. 

Tani then squeezed his shoulders gently, affectionately; assuringly. "Primo... Do not make this situation bigger than it actually is. So what if she does not accept ya right away? You will have other chances. Plus, there is another thing y'need ta remember," they say, pressing a finger against his chest above his heart, "You are not Nhogu. You are Azhi'li Ditreinu, 'nd our G'dhezi, no matter what. Now, go on 'nd meet with th'handlers. They'll get ya all situated fer th'next three nights."

Despite Tani being brusque and a little rough around the edges, they sure do know how to help Azhi'li, and he cannot be more grateful for it. His frown would give way to a gentle smile towards the taller Seeker, nodding in response. "Alright-- Thanks, Tani."

She returns the smile, nodding and ruffling his hair. "Of course, primito. We'll see you again in a few days. Have fun!"

They shove his back, pushing him forward to send him off on his way. 

-------------------------

At the handlers, Azhi'li is then introduced to the fledgelings; Rima, Tega, and Oto. They are still young, yet are still bigger than everyone in the tribe. From what Azhi'li remembers, griffins are only native to Dravania, with some species brought over to Gyr Abania as well. To think that there are some in the Sagolii boggles his mind, especially since they are so well-trained, playing with the handlers and preening their hair affectionately.

Yet, once Azhi'li arrived, the three seemed to stop in their antics and simply stared at the Seeker. Taking a few steps towards him, they circle him while sniffing curiously, chuffing as their tails give little flicks here and there. Once they'd satiated their curiosity, they moved away from him and instead paid attention to the handlers again, while Azhi'li got himself situated on a cot near the pen, simply staring.

As the suns passed, the handlers taught Azhi'li how to preen the fledgelings, feed them, play with them, and generally get used to them. The looser the Seeker got and more relaxed, the more the three griffins did, too. Towards the end of the third night, they've gotten so comfortable with him that they curl up their massive forms near Azhi'li's legs, falling asleep before the Seeker could even slip back to his cot. It was a bit surreal, yet it filled him with a certain determination and renowned confidence. 

He went to bed feeling like he could take on the world.

At least, until he woke up. It was the fourth day, and that meant it was time to meet the Matron. Rahja.

In order to reach the Matron, the children are made to climb their way up to Azeyma's Watch on their own, without any outside assistance. One by one, they would climb the rocky mountains, and one by one they would come back down. 

Once they hear the cry of the Matron announcing her arrival, the final passage begins. The youngest child goes first, and the oldest the last. Azhi'li waited for a few hours, his heart pounding in his chest and a clammy sensation overtaking the nape of his neck. Sena, Maryn, and Tani are overlooking the process, their ceremonial feathers worn upon their heads and tagua necklaces around their necks, watching as each miqo'te makes their way up and back down, as well as taking heed of the Matron's decisions.

Soon enough, it was Azhi'li's turn. Staring up the mountain, his round ears pin back against his head. Tani whistled out for his cousin, catching the Seeker's attention as he mouths, 'Go,' offering a gentle and toothy grin.

Taking in a deep breath, the younger Seeker would nod as he began his ascent, scaling the rocks as though it were second nature. It did not take him long to reach the top, rivulets of sweat running down his forehead and chest as Azeyma beats down on his form. His breath stalls in his chest the moment he sees Rahja, her eagle eyes piercing straight into him. He feels seen; exposed, and he hasn't even approached her yet.

Gulping down the lump in his throat, he moves closer to her before doing as he was instructed to a few suns ago, raising his dirt-covered, calloused paws towards the Sun, shutting his eyes and craning his neck to bask in Her warmth. He lowers himself onto his knees afterwards, bringing himself down further into a kowtow before Rahja, pressing his forehead against the stones for a few moments before lifting himself back up to gaze at the Matron.

Rahja continues to stare down at the young Seeker before her, approaching him slowly and lowering her head down to his. Azhi'li couldn't help the vague trembling along his body, his breathing shallow and light, his eyes wide and pupils blown out into saucers. His nervousness was not any bit of a secret, and he knew it. She knew it.

And yet, it was as though a small gleam of amusement danced in her eyes. She leaned her forehead down to his, pressing them together. He took in a quick breath, before shutting his eyes and releasing a trembling sigh with a small laugh, his relief pouring out like a broken dam. He gently took Rahja's face into his paws as their foreheads nestled together, the griffin's eyes briefly shutting before she eventually pulled away and stepped back enough to flap her wings and release a bellow towards the Sun.

Azhi'li stared at her in awe, expression full of wonder and delight from her magnificence. It took a few moments, but he then realized the gravity of the situation, a heavy weight upon his shoulders and heart-- yet, not a burdened one. No, it was a comfortable weight, like a heavy blanket on a cold night. He laughs happily, cheering and hooting as he stands back up onto his paw feet, his tears warm as they streak down his cheeks while he grinned as brilliantly as Azeyma Herself.

This-- this is everything and more to him. 

Shifting over towards Azhi'li, Rahja lowers her head down to him once more before folding her legs beneath her, laying her wing down for the Seeker. He blinks and stares at her, stupefied, stammering out, "-- D--... Do ya want me t'get on?" Such a silly question, surely she wouldn't understand--,

And yet, she chuffs in response, craning her head towards her back. He still really couldn't believe it, but he carefully moved towards her, placing his soot-colored paws on her back gently, questioningly. She huffs once more, slipping her wing right under him and hoisting him right onto her back as he yelps in surprise. Once he held onto her feathers, she lifted herself off from Azeyma's Watch and flew him down below, back to his family.

Still stunned, Azhi'li blinked owlishly as he remained on her back even after she had laid on the ground, Tani cheering and calling for her cousin while reaching out for him to yoink him off Rahja's back, giving him a giant, crushing hug.

That surely did snap him out of his stupor, causing him to yelp and groan as he felt his air be squeezed out of him. "I TOLD you, primo! Don't ever doubt me again, ya hear?! If ya do, I'm kickin' yer ass inta next week!" she states, firmly. 

"Aye-aye! Okay!" he whines, yet laughs breathlessly nonetheless. Tani places him down and ruffles the younger Seeker's smaller mane, grinning toothily and placing a giant smooch to his forehead. "Eso, primo. That's what I like ta hear."

Beside Tani came Sena and Maryn, gazing towards their nephew with warm smiles, the former beaming proudly. "You never had anything to worry about, Dhezi."

With a light huff, the young Seeker's wet face softened yet remained elated, nodding in response to his uncle's words. 

-------------------------

CW: Mention of blades, bleeding, and scarification. No graphic details.

With the rite now complete, the new and official Sankres must go with the tradition of scarifying wings upon their backs.

It is quite a bit of a painful process, yet everyone in the Sankres have gone through it at one point or another. Some folks take it a bit harder than others, and must do it in increments, but Azhi'li was able to lay through it the entire time.

Carving wings into his back, they wrapped him up carefully with bandages, applying medical salve around the newly forming scars to avoid any infections. It hurt like hells, but it was done, and he couldn't be happier.

From now on, he will be known as G'dhezi.

[exodusmc]

Prey

Genre: vampire au, smut 

Words: 3006

Paring: vampire Jin X human reader

Warning!:  Blood(feeding), rough sex, choking, unprotected sex, gore, overstimulation, manipulation(?), dirty talk

a/n: But like black haired Jin is superior :)

Gif is not mine 

He moved gracefully over the floor, eyes shing black and hair the softest of velvet. You stared openly at the handsome man, how his lips were so plush. Let’s just say you weren't the only one through heart eyes his way. He stopped before some girl, her eyes widening as she tried to look sexy. 

“Y/n!”your boss suddenly screamed at you, making you flinch and stop staring at the man.”Get to work!”

You started making coffee for the madame which was giving you an annoyed look, blushing furiously as you felt the handsome man look your way. It wasn't fun working in the food court but what wouldn't a student do for some more money?You would soon be going to college so you need every  penny you could get.

“Here’s your drink and sorry for the wait”you bow to the woman, stiffening at her scoff. 

“Start doing your work instead of staring”

“Sorry..”you mumbled as she walked away, eyes staring down at the floor just to not look anywhere else. You didn't mean to be so lost, he was just inhumanly handsome. 

-

Work ended later than it usually did, your body aching from cleaning the whole shop as punishment for your little slip up earlier. The mall was closed and it felt rather scary walking through it 11 pm but you were happy that you didn't have school in the morning or else you would be dead. You slipped out of the big building, shivering at the cold gust of wind which legit smacked you in the face.

“Oh god..”you ran to the bus stop, grateful for the little shed like structure which could hide you from most of the wind. When you saw the yellow vehicle coming, you realized that at least your job weren't the worst. 

Stepping inside the bus, warmth instantly made your body less stiff. You pulled a small smile at the man driving, which he didn't return, just drove before you could sit down towards the back.

“Rude..”mumbling you sent him a dirty look, deciding to use the seat belt incase he tried to kill you by driving of the road. You never liked being alone late at night but you couldn't walk home, so this was the best option.  

Music screamed in your ears as you stared out the window, seeing the same trees as you had seen for around 18 years. Autumn had really come now, the weather colder and duller. Halloween wasn't so far away either, which was fun. It meant no school and movies through the whole day. You smiled slightly at the thought being wrapped up in a blanket and having no worry in the world. Everything was so peaceful and you felt heavy, like you could fall asleep any second but the bus screeched, breaking so hard you flew forward, being caught by the seat belt but making a not so pretty sound. You took out one of your earphones, staring as the busdriver got out of the vehicle. Every hair stood on your body, an eerie feeling crawling over your skin. Something was wrong and the feeling grew the closer you got to the door. You saw the bus driver standing in the headlight, his back turned against you. A frown took its place on your lips, the song which you were listening to starting to sound like a running heartbeat. You swallowed hard about to call for the man when someone else appeared through thin air. His shoulders broad and he was taller than the driver. You stilled, eyes widening as the man grabbed a hold of the shorter ones throat, fingers piercing his skin and ripping his head of. You didn't know what to do, fear paralyzing you. The other one grabbed the headless body, putting his face against it and doing something you couldn't see, however he dropped the corpse and you could see him, who was too handsome and dripping in blood. You screamed, you had never screamed so loud before in your life. Stumbling backwards, panic growing when you realized you were stuck in the bus. The man snapped his head up at you, eyes staring at you, a predators red eyes. He moved with a speed no human could muster, standing inside the bus in one blick. You fell backwards, tears gushing over your cheeks, panic settling in your bones. It was the man you saw at the mall, the one with hair as the night, and now was he standing before you with his lower face covered in blood, fingers slick in the liquid. He took a step forward, instantly making you whimper. He was going to kill you, take all of your blood. 

“P-please d-don't kill m-me”you pleaded out, flinching when he leaned closer to your face, grinning down at you. 

“Oh..Why would I kill such a pretty little prey, before playing with it?”he questioned you, voice smooth and seeding shiver over your body. You cried harder, shaking when his hands reached for trembling limbs. 

The man grabbed you like you were a rag doll and you felt your world turn when you saw the fangs which pushed slightly against his plump under lip. You were so scared but could do nothing. He had caught you, his little prey. 

-

“Kim Seokjin! What in the world are you doing?!”Namjoon bombed through the mansion, eyes shining red. His anger was clear and Jin simply shrugged at the fuming vampire, a small smirk playing on his bloody lips. 

“Hm?”Jin answered bored, his hands holding your unconscious body. He couldn't care less about the leader and his irritation. Jin did what he wanted, even if Namjoon disliked it. 

“What do you think you are doing!?”brown hair stood everywhere on his head, evidence to him working late and running his hand through the locks. “You can't go kill people and take them!”

“But I just did”Jin looked smug and he realized that he was pushing at Namjoons patience, the latter having not fed in a long time. 

“ I know, I could smell her from a mile away and that means others could too!”Jin started to feel annoyance build in him at the nagging of the younger vampire. 

“You know what..my last feeding human died and I wanted a new one..”he hissed at Namjoon, who flinched back, his anger falling. 

“..You should have asked first, talked to me about it”

“It would have taken to long. She is mine now and I intended to keep her”Jin’s teeth shone in the lurky room, eyes like wise. 

He disappeared, leaving Namjoon biting his lip. He knew how much it hurt losing your human but Jin had never mention wanting a new one, refusing every time someone brought it up over the last century. So this was unaccounted for, completely random, and Namjoon feared because the humans had changed. Would everything go wrong and why was Jin so keen about keeping you?

-

It hurt, mostly because you felt stiff, but also because  your head spinned even when you had your eyes closed. What happened? You laid still, thinking that you were in your bed but the silk feeling and cloud like lightness made you open your eyes.. You had a nightmare filled with blood and a handsome face. Opening your eyes an inch, you wondered why you were in a different room when all you had was a nightmare.

“Good morning” instantly sitting up, chills ran down your spine when you saw your nightmare resting in an armchair, red as blood and velvet like his hair. “Slept well?”

He was beautiful and even more so when he wasn't covered in crimson liquid. You didn't know what to say or do. You were scared and all his attention made you feel small. 

“What are you?”whispering, you stared at him, taking in every feature. He wasn't human and that made him unreal. Skin slightly pale and shining. He had a gentle face but the way he watch you like a prey made him scary. 

“Oh I’m exactly what you think I am..A vampire” this can't be real. Vampires don't exist, which makes him just an imagination your head made up. Maybe it was  what you desire most but why would he be a killer then?You had a stare of, which you lost. He was powerful and sat with such grace you felt awful.

“Do you know what you are?”the question was weird, nonetheless making your blood run cold. 

“Human..”

“Right...My human”he got up from the chair, walking towards you as tears pooled in your eyes. Fright, chilling pure fright. It filled you, made you numb when he grabbed your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look at him, really look at him. Eyes shone bright red and fangs poked at the flesh of his lip. “My human...My blood”

He leaned forward, stopping to look in your pupils. You should have felt breath fanning over your face but didn't, because he was dead and didn't have to breathe. Danger swam in his glowing orbs, dripping in pleasure and  thrill. You lost a will to get away, relaxing into his grasp.  

“You’ll let me feed, right?”he mumbled, already scanning over your delicate neck, where his mark should be. You nodded, eyes dulling. Jin smiled down at your empty face, his hypnosis gripping you. “Thank you”

He kissed lightly against the skin, lips moving to coax blood to him. Licks made you shiver in anticipation, body reacting to him. Jin gave you one last kiss before piercing your skin, fangs burying down deep into you. Blood slipped from you, between his lips, hands holding you in place as your eyes widen. You felt warm and sensitive, small gasps leaving you, slowly turning to low moans. It felt great, addicting. You didn't want him to leave, to let you go. You wanted to stay in this feeling, drowning in him. Jin moved from your neck, chuckling at the whine which left you, fingers grasping to keep him close. 

“No, keep going..”you mewled out, trying to push his face back to your aching throat. 

“But I’ll kill you then”you whined louder, wetness pooling in your underwear, body burning under Jin’s grasp.  He could smell you and it was hard to control but he couldn't let go, not yet. 

Lapping lightly at your wound, you moan again , chasing after more. Jin kissed it one last time before moving from you, something which almost made you cry in desperation. 

“Don't worry my little bird, you’ll get what you want soon”tears flew from your eyes, body aching for more and sleep. You felt weird, light headed and horny to the point it hurt.

“No” Jin walked away, leaving you in despair and weak. You wanted more of him, all of him, but he left you to the darkness. 

-

“She smells too good”Taehyung groaned as Jin walked down the stairs, his head high, blood lingering on his tongue. 

“I know”

“Can I have a taste?”

“No”

“Why?”

Jin merely hissed at the younger one as a warning to keep away from what’s his. Your arousal still had a grip on him and he had to get away before he did something bad. Maybe it weren't a good idea to leave you smelling like that in a house full of vampires but he had to get away. 

“Touch her and I’ll rip your arm out”

-

Jin thought your hormones would have died down after four hours but when he stepped inside the mansion after a long run, he realized that it weren't the case. Your fermions laid around him like a hug, pleading for his touch of relief.  A small growl left him, mind fighting with his body if he should just walk out again or aid you. 

“You’re so stupid”Namjoon hissed, walking out from the right, his eyes shining red again.”You really left her like that with the youngest around”Jin knew it was stupid but he would have hurt her, so he couldn't stay. 

“Fix it”it was a command and it decided what Jin would do. He would go to you and he would help your burning body.

-

You tensed when the door flew open, hitting the wall with a thud and then closing a second after. He stood there, red eyed and  hungry. Your body acted on its own, begging for his touch. You whined out at the sight he was, dropped in a black silk shirt and the same color slacks. The items shoved of his body so well, following his broad shoulders and tiny waist. You wanted everything from him, every touch, every sensation.

“Please~”you whined out, leaning forward so he could see your neck, pricked with two faded marks. 

Jin hissed again, standing by you in a blink of an eye. He grabbed your wrists, pushing you to lay down on the soft covers, not really thinking about his strength. You squirmed, not caring about the force he put on you and how you would be bruised in the morning. Tongue dipped down on your jugular, licking a long strip up the whole body part, until he stopped by your jaw, he could feel your blood rush to his wet muscle, aching for him to take. Jin groaned at it, a hand grabbing both of your wrists and holding the over your head. You were on cloud nine and he hadn't even touched you. He made nothing of your shirt, eyeing your abdomen. Jin licked his lips, dragging a finger between your breasts, down your stomach and stopping by your jeans. It frustrated you, body burning in desire. 

“Keep your hand still and I’ll reward you”his purr had you drooling down there, fingers clenching to stay but begging to run through his hair. Jin smiled at your struggle, parting your thighs so he could roll down on you. 

He was hard and big, mouth watering. You let out a desperate sound, his hands dragging over your neck. Jin wanted to squeeze the part, to feel you struggle. Hair hung in maddening eyes, a predator catching his prey. 

“We can't keep these any longer..”the vampire mumbled while grabbing at your pants, putting a little more force on your hips.”They're in the way”

He shredded the fabric, having to close his eyes at the increase of your scent. The mix of your arousal and blood had him moving faster. Jin couldn't wait and he knew you couldn't either.  You never got to see him take of his clothes because he moved too fast, bare and in his flesh in a second. Your gaze wandered down his abdomen, gushing at how erect he was, pussy clenched at the mere glance of his cock. 

“Please please”chanting, you grabbed a hold of silk sheets, which were your only anchor. You needed him now. Jin smirked, ripping of the last pieces of clothing on your body, staring at your dripping cunt. You were so ready, he didn't even have to prepare you. 

“What do you want? Hmm? Use your words”whining and trashing, your body burnt at his tease. 

“Please fuck me~”it started to hurt, the feeling of arousal in you. Pressure only built and the second Jin pushed himself in you, stars took over your gaze. 

You gasped, back arching at the feeling of being filled. Jin moaned, your pussy clamping down  on his sex. Adrenaline flushed his system and he lost himself. Jin moved fast, pounding into you like no tomorrow. His hands gripped hard at your hips, scream like sounds ripping through your throat. 

“Scream for me baby, scream my name..”you gasped out, searching your mind for his name, realizing you didn't know it. “Jin. Scream it”

His name left your mouth like a prayer, hands letting go of silk sheets and grabbing velvet hair. You screamed and screamed, head turning. Jin kept his gaze on your neck, not being able to control the want to hold it. He pushed you down by putting pressure on your throat, choking you lightly. The loud sounds from you turned to stifled moans, making your pussy tighter. Jin smirked at it, growling while he moved. 

“You’ll stay forever, right? Give me your blood, right?”he panted out, face close to yours.You merely nodded, too out of it to speak. He hit the right spot every time he fucked into you, eyes rolling back. 

Jin felt his orgasm come fast, thrusts becoming sloppy. You were gone already, the euphoric feeling washing over you in forms of shaking and gasps. But the vampire didn't slow down, driving your body to overstimulation. Tears dropped from your eyes, choked out sobbs leaving your dry mouth. It hurt and felt so good at the same time. Jin growled out a moan as his hips snapped against yours, cock twitching in you before cumming in long spurts. He took deep breaths even when he didn't need to, while you panted lodly, hand formed bruises decorating your neck. He pulled out of you, landing besides you as your body shuddered. Sleepiness came over you mere seconds after your second orgasm. Jin glanced at your heavy eyelids, your screams of pleasure echoing in his ears. 

“Sleep my little human..Dream of peace”his voice was so soft, luling you so slumber. You had no grip on real life while Jin watched you disappear. Something between a smirk and a smile tugged at his lips. He lingered by your cheek, wanting to kiss it but choosing not to.”And stay by my side forever”

-

“Why Jin?” Namjoon asked the second Jin walked through his doors, hair still messy.”Why her?”A frown developed on his lips, his undead heart beating for the first time in a century. 

“Because she is her in another life and this time I am not letting her go”

[jackieandsimon]

Dropping the act

This is the first time I’m posting something like that, so I would very much appreciate some thoughts or feedback. Hope you enjoy :)

It was an early autumn evening. Definitely too early for Geralt to already be on his fifth cup of beer. But he couldn’t help himself. Ciri was off with Yennefer to study some magical herbs in the mountains near the northern border and Geralt finally got some time for himself. He loved Ciri and was beyond grateful for Yennefer to help his Child of Surprise with her magic, but he still felt his best when hunting monsters. That’s what he was made for after all. But today had been a disappointment. The only creature he’d met was a little harmless wandering elf. He felt restless, bored even. He needed to move. He should travel a bit further south where the summer sun was still warming the woods and the terrible creatures within. 

Just as he was debating whether his desire for action was worth the journey through the freezing dark of a late autumn night or would waiting until dawn perhaps be a better idea, a bard made a theatrical entrance in the inn. If Geralt could be asked to raise his head he would perhaps realise that the incoming stranger wasn’t just another money seeking travelling musician. But since he couldn’t, only his old, ever cautious senses were able to spare him the shock when the bard without questions sat down beside him. Geralt was now forced to stop staring into his cup and look at the stranger that he now knew wasn’t stranger at all. Despite the pleasant blur that the drink put over his thoughts, his hunting senses didn’t let him down. And so when he finally raised his head he wasn’t at all surprised to see that the stranger sitting beside him was his long lost friend. Not that Geralt would ever admit to having any sorts of feelings for that said friend that now stared at him with one of those grins of his that set Geralt’s mind on fire, not caring about politeness.

“Hello, Jaskier,” said Geralt drily.

“Oh come on Geralt. Can’t you at least pretend that you’re happy to see me?”

The truth was, Geralt was more than happy to see him. And he found it distracting. He hoped that if he’d let enough time pass the weird feeling he got in his stomach whenever Jaskier was around would disappear. But even after all these decades, it did not. In fact, it only seemed to be getting stronger.

He allowed himself a long gaze at the bard. He looked exactly the same as the last time their paths crossed after Jaskier went off to see the world. His hair was still a brown mess and was now long enough that he had to constantly run his hand through it to prevent it from getting in his eyes. Those eyes, they were still the same light blue colour, not a wrinkle more around them. And that grin. Geralt had always been fascinated by that grin, that made Jaskiers whole face shine. Of course, Geralt also found the fact that his friend has not seemed to age a bit in all those years alarming but he could deal with that later. 

“Do you want a drink?” Geralt asked, surprising himself.

“Since when does the legendary White Wolf care about what a poor bard wants?”

It was probably the drink and the boredom getting the best of him, but he said nonetheless: “It is true that I don’t care about most people as long as I get their money for dealing with their little monsters, but despite what they say I am capable of caring for some people. You should know that by now.”

“Ever so fierce. Can’t you drop that I’m-a-soulless-warrior act of yours for a second?”

“Do you want a drink or not Jaskier?” That sounded angrier than he intended. And he surprised himself yet again by saying quietly: “I’m sorry.”

The apology caught Jaskier off guard: “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You have a reputation to uphold, I get it. We all survive in our own ways. How about we find somewhere more private? You look ready to rip the throat out of anyone for only daring to take a glance in your direction.” 

“So no drink for you?”

“There will be plenty of opportunities to get drunk later.”

“I suppose the people here are ridiculously annoying.” With that said Geralt stood up, paid for the drinks and walked out of the inn without even spearing a glance to make sure that Jaskier is following him. He did stop until he was standing before another inn, an much emptier one where he’d rented a room the night before. The inn was old but clean and most importantly quiet. He only went to the other one to avoid conversation with the owner. He opened the heavy oak doors that were closing the entrance and let his bard in. His bard? What was happening to him? Jaskier belonged to nobody and most definitely not him. 

Only when they were safely in Geralt’s room did they speak again.

“What’s wrong Geralt?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh come on. You know I can read you like an open book. You can tell me. That’s what friends are for.”

Friends. They were friends. But deep down Geralt knew that he wanted them to be much more. It was probably because of the drinks but what was he about to do, he later had to admit, was the stupidest yet the most amazing thing he had ever done. He grabbed Jaskier by the collar of his shirt, lifted him off the bed where he was now sitting and pressed him against the wall. Jaskier was tense at first, but his body soon relaxed, his eyes now radiating something that could only be interpreted as a dare. Geralt used to hate that fact that Jaskier didn’t seem to be scared of him at all, but now he had to admit the bard’s bravery or perhaps stupidity turned him on. 

Their faces were dangerously close together and it would only take one of them to move slightly for their noses to be touching. Before Geralt could decide whether the consequences would be worth the pleasure, Jaskier leaned forward. And just like that, they were kissing. For a moment Geralt stood perfectly still, but as soon as he got the control over his body back, he was pressing his own body against Jaskier, careful not to crush him with his weight, kissing him intensely. Before they fully realised what was happening, Geralt was carrying Jaskier across the room, back to the bed, never breaking the kiss. Within moments both of their shirts were flying to the floor where they would lay forgotten until the next morning. 

It was Jaskier who broke the kiss at last: “Lay on your back.” 

Geralt obeyed him without questions and when Jaskier started to kiss his muscular torso, the Wolf felt the bard hardening against his leg. That was Geralt’s undoing. He grabbed the bard by the shoulders and had Jaskier beneath him before he even had time to complain, his hand already unbuttoning the bards pants. 

Soon the pants joined the shirts on the floor and Geralt felt himself hardening at the sight of Jaskier laying before him, as naked as the day he was born. One of his hands was working their way between Jaskiers legs, while the other was gently stroking his back. As the Wolf finally got hold of his bard he could feel Jaskier’s whole body tensing as Geralt worked his surprising length. Before they knew it Jaskier was pouring himself all over Garalts hand, Geralt kissing him gently. 

When they broke apart, both breathless and smiling, Geralt quietly asked: “How long did you know?”

“I was predicting it for a long time. But since you never made a move I wasn’t sure if I’m perhaps imagining it and I started to lose hope. But when you apologised back in the inn, I knew you had some feelings for me. I just didn’t realise how badly you wanted me.”

They kissed one more time before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.