#hes my dinner and ill gladly have him in the bath | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mskimkaty · 4 years ago

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I AM THAT GIRL

angst, slight fluff, smut

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, MENTAL ILLNESS, SUICIDE, SELFHARM, DRAMA, SMUT, VANILA SMUT, SWEARING, KIM JENNIE IS A BITCH HERE AND SO OTHER MENTION REAL LIFE PEOPLE BUT ITS PURELY FICTIONAL.

synopsis:Johnny Suh, the most popular boy in college, tried to take his life? what could possibly go wrong with his wealthy background, popularity, and basically having everything in the palm of his hands?

expected word count: 12,692

release date: 01/18/21 (somehow, got deleted. so Im reposting)

details: college!au, strangers to friends to lovers!au.

JohnnySuh x reader.

Johnny Suh walked the hallways in his college ground and not one passerby gives him the freedom to do his business. Students give him a look of pity, as acquaintances try to give him fake words of comfort that disgustingly crawls at the back of his skin.

They were just into the gossip, but they never really care. It was obvious from how they whisper behind his back for looking out of place and out of character, he could see their mocking gazes every time he walks past them.

he pulled his hood up and covered his old blonde hair now dyed into jet black, the usual smile plastered on his lips was now in a tight line and was placed the usually friendly demeanor with a scowl on his face.

people are staring, not in a good way, but because he looks ridiculous in their minds.

"Youngho, if you need anything, I'd gladly do it for you." Johnny heard his Korean name roll of someone's lips and now he feels disgusted with himself for the 9th time that day, he was back to zero and the acid rushes past his throat and he might vomit with the anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach upon hearing his birth name. He halts his movements and turns around to face Kim Jennie.

How does she have the nerve to say that when she cheated on him with Jongin? He treated him like a brother. Her hands travel on his biceps, the usual warmth he felt in the past now buried at the back of his memories, and now, he's just disgusted with her. He ignored her and continued walking past her, Jennie's peers were instantly beside her to console her with words of comfort because her ex-lover practically brushes her off like she was nothing.

You didn't expect a drama unfolding in front of you while standing in your locker area, Christmas break was finally over, and now students are back putting their noses in other people's business. Especially, Johnny Suh's business.

You shrugged your shoulders and walks back to your class, this is definitely a way to start your first day at this University.

Johnny sat at the far back of the room, sporting unusual dark clothing rather than the usual light colors of his wardrobe, the professor walks in, shaking his head upon seeing him at the back completely not understanding how Johnny's mind works.

Johnny knows, just by the look his professor is giving at him, he knew and have seen that twice already — he couldn't control the urge to stand up harshly making the chair he was using falls down to the ground as he walks to the door not bothering to look back, stunning everybody in the room.

When Johnny came back to school after his attempt, he felt more pulled down in the darkest pit inside him, he was unhappy more than he did when he was attempting. The funny part? when people knew about his attempt, people started flocking around him as they cared, but it was obvious. They just wanted to be with him because of his surname and money.

Even Jennie did not differ from the other students trying to impress him. The sad part about it is that he genuinely liked her, but she was just up for it because of the money and fame, and maybe the good fuck. His friends were no different, people might think that he's happy being the captain of the football team, but his life was toxic with every moment. He was in more pain than ever, his friends who were his teammates low-key discarded him thinking he's a freak saying he needed to seek attention.

Johnny knew that they weren't practically saying that to his face, but they were showing it.

They weren't wrong, he knew that, but it was different. They were all trying to impress him, worshiping the ground he walks on and now he's on the rocky side of the road, they drop him? because their parents told them to?

Johnny empties his locker, blindly shoving everything in his duffle bag when his best friend, Kim Jongin, walks inside. He hardly shoved everything inside his bag and harshly closed his locker's door, scowling at the older boy.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he heard him. "This isn't you at all, why are you suddenly changing? Johnny, I already said I'm sorry." that's the ugly fact. People around him are blind enough not to notice the slight changes in him and the little signs that he wasn't mentally stable.

"This isn't an apology. You're asking me to suck it up. It's Different."

Lunch came and Johnny has nowhere to go, not with all the pity looks the student body is giving him, he had a take-out for his meal and had his lunch alone in an empty room. deciding he has no appetite to eat something, he walked out of the building and drove out to Nakamoto Yuta's basement. He's supposed to be dead two weeks before this day, but here he was, seeking for Yuta's dirty business.

"Johnny Suh." Nakamoto Yuta was known for his dirty business around campus, selling overpriced illegal transactions under the table, tattoos, and piercing. "Stop talking like I'm some god. No god would try to kill himself."

"figures."

"I don't understand, how are you still in the university and not behind bars?" Johnny asks after taking a long drag on his blunt.

"This is the only way to have food on the table, and I need to graduate. I rather do these than sell my body."

Sadly enough when Johnny checked his phone, no calls or messages from his parents. As cliche as it sounds, he wants his father to check on him but after seeing him in his room bathed in his blood on the ground, his father drifted more away from him.

When he got home that night, his family was having dinner without him, his younger sister, Yerim, ran up to him and hugged him. "Oppa, where have you been? I've been calling you." his sister was the only purest being for him, and he distances himself around her, he doesn't want him to expose her to things that only he knew.

"Yerim, go to your room." the impersonal voice of their father surrounds the dining area and Yerim flinch. looking up to his eyes before walking away.

Kim Ji hoon walks up to him and looks at him with disdain. "Stop being a disgrace, If you can't act like your invisible. I don't need a disgrace in this house." It wasn't new to Johnny anymore.

His father may not be vocal about it in the past but he knew that his father doesn't want him to breathe the same air he does, if God may allow it, he knows that his father wanted him dead, he wanted his father to acknowledged him, and he did everything, that was when Johnny was kissing up to his reputation of being the good son, ace-ing all his grades, being the captain of the football team, doing unnecessary extracurricular activities for extra points, being the good boyfriend, good friend, good son, and a good brother, but it was all too much for him, he felt that he was borrowing someone's life to the point that he doesn't recognize him anymore.

His father hated him so much that he didn't even give him his last name, and the ugly part about it is that Johnny understood his father because he was the reason his mother died. "You can't even do one thing properly, and now everyone living in this town knows about you killing yourself."

"Are you saying that I didn't properly kill myself?" he wanted to vomit. He chuckled as he ran his hands down his locks. "Go fuck yourself," he murmured and walk down to the guest room where he was temporarily sleeping, his step-mother hasn't asked the helpers to clean his room's carpet that is still bathed in his blood, he looked at his wrist that is covered in a bandage, the ugly reminder that he was unhappy and that there is no saving from this anymore. Finding the reason to wake up was hard enough and going to school was another thing, but he did anyway.

People still gossip behind his back, ugly as it sounds, people are disgustingly twisted. He smirked upon hearing he still looked hot as fuck with black hair, one student saying she would gladly do him, blonde or black.

"Jennie must have cheated knowing that he's a freak."

"hey, he might hear you, lower your voice."

"He needs to seek professional help."

"I don't understand him at all. His popular, his ex-girlfriend was fucking hot, he's rich, has great looks, and has a hella hot of a sister." something snapped inside him when he heard some asshole talked disgustingly about his sister.

Before he could even think properly, Johnny repulsively pushed the guy up to the wall. "The hell!" the stranger shouted as the other students stop to stare.

"Did you fucking talked about my sister like that?"

People are staring not because of an aggressive man pushing a full-grown body against the wall like it's nothing. it's not uncommon to see a fistfight for the entire student body to see, people are staring because, Johnny Suh, for once stunned everybody with his demeanor that is completely out of his character. Yes, he is a big guy, but he was kind, sweet, and friendly, so Johnny using force for the first time against someone was a sight to see, added to the fact that this is the first time people heard him cursing, and If eyes could kill already, the guy who talked shit about his sister is practically dead right now, he would brush it off in the past, blindly ignoring gossip about him but this is the first time that someone disrespects his sister right in front of his face and definitely, it is the first time that he gave less fuck about his reputation.

Johnny stared at the man that lacks the urge to answer him, him sending shivers down the stranger's spine. He manhandled the guy and throw him down the floor. "You had the nerve to run that filthy mouth against my sister but doesn't have the balls to answer when I'm confronting you?" he smirked and walked away.

Johnny spent the whole week going to the university but doesn't bother attending his classes, he doesn't want to be left alone at home but doesn't want to go to his classes. He just lost every motivation to do something productive.

Johnny walked his usual path these past few days, going to an empty room on the 4th floor of the Marketing's building to kill time, he gently pushed open the door and saw you changing your clothes. You were almost done, putting your white dress shirt over your shoulder without noticing that you're giving a stranger a free show.

Johnny freezes up, staring and lingering more than usual. He was mesmerized by how your skin glistens under the light slipping through the windows, but what made him stop on his track is the lack of hair you have in your body. It's just smooth skin all over your body.

When you felt someone behind you, you turn your body around to look at the intruder, you saw someone and instantly locked eyes with him. At first, you were scared of seeing Suh Johnny behind you, Johnny got a full view of your unbuttoned shirt and your chest clad in your undergarments. it's not like you saw a ghost, he didn't die per se, but then it has drawn to you, that Johnny, in the flesh, saw you changing clothes. Your reflex acts up and you turn yourself away from him, pulling your clothes to hug yourself, you fix your buttons as you run out to get out of the embarrassment.

The next day, you went to your usual spot in the library to eat your lunch when you saw somebody sitting on your chair. You shrug your shoulders and sit across the stranger who had his head tucked in his arms on the table. You were excited to eat your favorite sandwich because your mother specially made it for you, it was a rare moment given your mother raised you and your sibling alone, having to work two jobs at a time just to put food on the table and to send you to a good school. You appreciate her and love her with all your heart, she was the only one you had next to your older brother, you were good at being invisible, it was your last semester at the university. Trying to finish one subject and your practicum silently like you didn't exist at all. You laughed at the fact that you had no one in this damn hell, but you didn't care.

You started eating your sandwich in silence while opening a good book to read, you were happy in your bubble. Johnny must have heard you as you flip pages after pages. His stomach growling after registering the wonderful smell coming from his surroundings. When he lifts his head, his eyes flicked to your form, silently eating while reading a book, you were so happy in your little bubble, giggling while reading. He straightens his back and you notice the guy across you, putting a face in the stranger who sleeps across you.

A blush crept up on your face when you realize it was Johnny again, you remembered the recent events that happened between the both of you, and your embarrassed ass started coughing hard, you hold your neck rather than reaching for the bottled water in front of you as you choke none stop in front of him. He was left dumbfounded for a couple of seconds but reach for the bottle and unclasp it before handing it to you, you chugged half the contents down your throat and he watched you with fascination.

"Thank you." You said in a small voice.

You put the bottle back in its place as silence hangs in the air, it wasn't a bad kind of silence, but it was awkward. You offer him the other half of your sandwich as you watch him look at you questioningly. "Your hungry." It wasn't a question. You knew he was hungry given you kept hearing his stomach growling a while ago. "You know a little food won't hurt you right?"

Johnny laughs at your ironic statement but accepts your offer anyway, "Don't get your hopes up, I'm not up for a casual relationship." he says as you thought that he wouldn't accept your offer, given that he's rich and can buy a much better lunch than what you're currently having, but then again, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

"I was just offering you food."

"Thanks." When he finished your sandwich rather quickly, he went back to sleeping in front of you. He liked hearing the sound of you flipping pages after pages as you read your book silently in front of him and the occasional giggle you let out when read something funny. When he woke up to go home, you were gone, but you left your coat as you hung it around his shoulders to keep him warm.

When he came back the day after, in the library, you didn't come back.

The next morning, Johnny awoke earlier than usual, heading to his car without giving a glance at his family, Yerim saw him and was rather puzzled at the baby pink coat he was holding delicately in his arms. He drove fast to get to the university, walking inside the library to wait for you if ever you were going to be there again.

Lunch came, and your guess was right, you see the same blacked haired boy taking a nap in your usual spot with your coat right beside him. You sat across him again and started minding your business, but this time, you had another bag of sandwiches repaired for him. You weren't ignorant about Johnny's attempt, but you choose to respect his space, you knew that he wasn't mentally stable yet. He might look fine outside and you might not know what goes inside his head, but you knew that he isn't fine. No one's mentally stable, everybody has their hardships in their private lives going on right now, but the important thing is that people shouldn't use it against someone, and as long as they don't step on other people to feel better for themselves then it's good.

You might not understand what he's going through right now, you weren't friends, to begin with, but you feel for him. Sincerely.

Johnny felt peaceful for once after many years, it was an odd feeling, but it wasn't bad. You were browsing your phone, checking your emails and your mother's, clearing and archiving unimportant ones. You look at the time and it was already half past lunchtime. Wednesday is a pain in the ass for you, you have to wait for 5 hours until your next class in the afternoon. You didn't notice Johnny waking from his nap, seeing as you still haven't touched the sandwich bags in front of you, he's guessing you still haven't eaten.

"I'm Johnny."

You look at the man in front of you, his usual strawberry locks are now turned into black, sporting a gray hoodie over his black shirt and matching gray track pants. You study his expression, his not extending his hands for a handshake nor his face valid of any emotion, yet you smile and said "What happened to not being in a casual relationship?"

Johnny was taken back, you give him the sweetest smile you could offer and handed him the extra sandwich you had, "You know, some people would reply with their names." he said as he accepts the food that you offered, you look at him as if contemplating before speaking.

"Y/n"

"I'm not sure, but what department are you from?" he asked after taking a bite of his food. "This is good, by the way. Who made this?"

"What question do you want me to answer first?" you asked laughing. "My mom made it, and I'm from the same department as you, Though, I just transferred to this school after the Holidays,

If he was shocked he didn't show it, Johnny nods his head as if acknowledging you, "I just want time to pass by quickly and silently, that's why no one knows I exist here. I'm just trying to live another day until I graduate." You said making Johnny fall silent.

"Good for you," he replied after a good minute with the both of you munching on your foods. "Was it hard?" he asked.

"What is?"

"You don't seem to have anyone, do you even have friends?" you laughed at his statement because it was the truth. "Yeah, something like that. It wasn't that bad I might have no friends because I choose not to have any relationships with anybody in here."

"That sucks, I'm not going to ask the reason why you transferred in the middle of the semester because that's your business, not mine," he says, you study his face and you weren't sure whether to run your mouth over his business or not, deciding against it you stood up and take your things with you. "Let me show you something."

Walking down the stairs while both of you kept a little distance, you lead him to the visual room, pulling the keys in your backpack and unlocking it. "Why do you have a key to the AVR?" he asks bewildered.

"Perks of being the teacher's pet," you replied as you pulled him inside, turning the computer and projector on, you played a video about constellations and aimed the projector above.

Stars hover above the two of you and you urge him to lay down beside you, looking up and taking a moment of peace to embrace both of you.

"When things get hard and I tend to be alone; let's be honest, no one wants to feel lonely, especially at the hardest times of our lives. But then, you can't force someone to be there with you physically and emotionally and it sucks to have yourself suck it up for being alone. So, I do this, I take my time staring at these constellations. You see, they're really beautiful to me. I find them fascinating, they have this beautiful meaning behind them, it was always fun finding their patterns, connecting them until they're complete, you just have to look closely, in that way, you'll appreciate them more." you smile while pointing above you, he might not look at you but your presence beside him does him wonders, it was so powerful that even if he closes his eyes, he still feels you beside him. The warmth he was feeling coming from you, your steady breathing, and your sweet scent.

You spent your Mondays and Wednesdays with Johnny, eating lunch together, or spending time as you watch different constellations every week.

Friday morning, you made a quick detour to your department before clocking in for your practicum, before leaving the premises a professor asked you for a favor and you agreed to make a copy of the files she was asking for. When you came back from the printing room, you saw a commotion ahead. It wasn't you to pry on other people's business, but your legs must have their mind when you saw a familiar tall build that is clad in a black hoodie.

Johnny Suh stands in the middle with Kim Jongin and Kim Jennie on the other side. He was hyperventilating.

"Just leave, please." Kim Jongin shouted at him, you can see the obvious horror written on everyone's faces. Kim Jennie was stuck beside Jongin as she shed tears silently, disbelief written in Johnny's face.

"Do you know what went wrong? it's because you were never enough." Jennie drops the bomb for everyone to hear, Johnny was livid. If he could crush everything that he could see he would take the chance and do it. If he could take his life again, he wouldn't give a single fuck and he'll gladly do it.

"I can't believe you both. I wasn't the one who cheated with my best friend, why the fuck do you act like it's my fault?" you heard Johnny said and for the first time your heart broke for him.

You found him in your usual spot in the library, his head hanging low and his body shaking as he tries to catch his breath. You drop your coat over his head and give him the bottle of water you were holding, instead of sitting across him, you sat next to him without overstepping and respecting his space to cool down.

When he started to calm down, he handed your coat back to you, stood up, and left the library. Saying you were dumbfounded was an understatement but you choose to understand him.

Days passed by and Johnny was still a no show. When a week has already passed without seeing Johnny, you started to get worried. You wished you asked for his number, but then again, you weren't even that close, to begin with. You decide to spend your long-vacant in the visual room, playing random constellations as you think about a certain boy.

When that certain boy suddenly appeared right in front of you. "I'm sorry." He had his hands inside his grey sweatpants.

"What matters is that you came."

Johnny joined you on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, after a moment of silence, he spoke up. "Why did you help me? why do you even care about me at all? I'm a mess."

"Aren't we friends?" You asked even though it was clear that he turned your offer of friendship down a while ago.

"What you said about the constellations earlier made me realize how I took myself for granted and at the same time how ungrateful I am."

You look at him and give him the chance to speak up. "I didn't have the will to live, do you know that you are annoyingly optimistic about everything?" He jokingly asked, and you laughed with him.

"Is that a compliment or what?"

"I still don't have a reason to be here." He suddenly says. Johnny looks at your face as if reading you, he was prepared to see you pitying him but there was none.

"You don't have to look for it. You have yourself because, at the end of the day, you only got your own back," you turn to him as you give him a look. Johnny envied you, it was obvious, and you can read him like an open book. "Don't, don't look at me like that, Johnny Suh." the way his name rolled down your tongue felt flawless, as if you were born to say his name out loud.

"We all have our shortcomings, I'm not perfect nor are people around me, no one is, and we have to accept that fact, give less care about people who can't accept that."

"It's not as easy as it seems," Johnny says, your hand brushing back the stray hair that falls on his forehead as if your hand has a mind of its own. "Sorry-"

"It's fine. I like it." Both of you turn towards the ceiling as you continue to watch the stars, keeping the comfortable silence and just hang around each other.

For weeks, spending time in the library and the visual room to watch the stars has been your thing with Johnny Suh, you couldn't even imagine being friends with the likes of him, you view him as a constellation star, he's mysterious behind his disguise as he tends to fool everyone with, he was hard to reach and was always up above you, he brightens the surroundings like how the stars brighten the night sky, for you, he was more than the famous campus boy that everybody likes, even if he can't realize that.

Weeks passed by and you look forward to your Mondays and Wednesdays than the fact that you are graduating.

You were busy transferring your books to your backpack as you stand in front of your locker when Johnny came to you. "I didn't know we have the same classes."

You were stunned when you saw him talking to you in the open, students started looking in your way as if seeing a history. The most known guy in the University is with a nobody, but you shrugged it anyway as you closed your locker's door. You bite back at your tongue with all the attention you were getting, anxiety creeping out to you but you choose to ignore it.

"You weren't even attending your classes," you told him as you fix your backpack, the both of you started walking, keeping the same slow pace and taking your time.

"Well, I now have a reason, at least," he says as he grabs the strap of your bag and slings it in his shoulder. You ignore the bubbly feeling inside you and continued walking. Smiling at yourself as you forget about the stares around you.

"You're so cheesy, Suh Johnny." You giggled at him and for the first time, you saw a genuine smile creeping on his face.

When Lunch came, both of you sat outside to enjoy the sunny weather. "I'm going to start my Practicum next week," Johnny told you suddenly, and you stood up so fast to walk around the table to hug him.

"I'm so glad!" the sincere happiness is written on your face that even Johnny laughs with you.

"Thanks to you, I feel like, there's more to it than ending my life at the age of 21," he says and you shake your head at him.

"No, I didn't do anything. It's mostly you. I'm just here beside you to guide you, but it's your own will."

"I'll be honest with you, hurting myself still runs on my head but the difference this time is, I'm scared to do it." you didn't know what to reply to that so you just extend your hands towards his and hold it firmly in your grasp.

The rest of your day went ahead without you noticing, time flies by rather quickly when you are with Johnny. You stood waiting for your bus to arrive when a black Audi stops in front of you. Its windows rolling down and you see Johnny peeking through the window to smile at you.

"You want to wait for your bus or be logical and save time?" you laugh at his way of asking you for a ride but walk towards the passenger to join him in his car otherwise. The car ride was rather chaotic, you were debating about what to put first, milk or cereal, and you felt the horrors when Johnny says he puts milk in first. He was laughing like a child at how horrified you look.

"Anything's fine with me. I put whatever in first," he says after a long minute of arguing.

"I'm telling you, not to live like that!" you argue back. "Cereal comes first and then milk goes in, just imagine, do you pour the soap first before the water? it's water before the soap!" you explained and he laughs at how rilled up you get.

The argument was cut off when you arrived at your house. Johnny parked his car in front of your house and for some reason, your mother came in wearing an apron over her clothes. She raises an eyebrow at the unknown car blocking her driveway and you look at Johnny who looks back at you.

"Your mother is intimidating." He says.

"Want to come over for dinner?" you ask, and It took him a second before responding, " You think that's a good idea?"

"Come on, Mr. Suh, grow some balls, it's just my mom." Johnny looks offended at your statement.

"I have balls that girls flock around with," he retorted. You sigh and open the passenger seat greeting your mom with a smile as you ran to hug her.

"Can my friend stay for dinner?" you asked after hugging her. Johnny is behind you as he introduced himself as your friend and your mother shocked him by giving him a warm hug.

"There's still room for another boy in my house, I believe, it's no problem." Your mother stated as Johnny gives you a confused glance. Your mother invited him in and you welcomed him.

Inside, your older brother, Taeil is strumming his guitar with three other guys in the living room. "Oh, This is my Brother, Taeil." you casually said at him as you hung both of your jackets.

"You didn't tell me you have a brother." He whispered at you, standing awkwardly beside you. Taeil waved at him and you push him to sit beside Jaehyun.

"This is Jaehyun, Doyoung, and Ten. They're all bandmates during high school so they're always here for my brother," you explained. "And your mother's cooking." Ten added.

"Well, now you know," You said as you turn to him. "Let me just go to my room and freshen up real quick, just make yourself feel at home," you say as you back up on your track. "Cool."

Johnny didn't feel out of place for some reason, he was really happy that he got to meet your brother and his bandmates, they were cool to be around. They entertained him and ask what were his hobbies are and for the first time, he took his time to think about what he likes to do. He likes to draw.

When dinner was served, all the boys helped your mother to set up the table, Johnny was persistent in helping even after telling him to sit and wait because he was a guest. You let him help otherwise.

Dinner was well spent, he enjoyed talking with everyone and your mother even asks him to visit anytime he wants. Taeil takes a liking to him, asking him to hang out whenever he's free. Johnny presented to do the dishes and you helped him when he was done his shirt was a total mess because of the water splashing through the faucet, a good thing is that your brother has some clothes that are way oversized for him, and he lets Johnny use them.

You handed him the shirt, accidentally seeing a huge bruise on his chest and stomach, before you knew it, you stop him as he was about to put his shirt on. "What happened?"

His bruises must have slipped his mind and he mentally cursed himself at it. You were horrified. "Johnny, are you getting beat up?"

"I don't want to talk about this," he pulled his shirt down "Y/n, It's getting late. I should head home now. Thank you for dinner, I enjoyed it." and before you know it, Suh Johnny was gone.

Weeks passed by and Johnny was a complete no show. Faint rays of the sun trickled down through your curtains and fell on your room's marbled floor, you look up at your window and were blinded by the light, sitting up, you let your feet hovered on your marbled floors and mentally prepare yourself for the day.

In the office, your instructor asked you to copy some files and you gladly agreed to do it as you don't have much going on for the time being. You thought that it was hard doing your practicum, but all you did at the office was run errands evolving the x-ray machine. Your mind drifted back to Johnny, you'll have to talk to him. Being worried about him is already killing you and the last time you saw him was three weeks ago.

Wednesday came and you sat at your usual spot in the library, studying for the upcoming exams as you patiently wait for the tall black-haired guy. You forced yourself to do some actual studying but for some reason, all you can think about was Suh Johnny who didn't even show up.

The week passed by in a blur and on Thursday you went to your University to take the exam, you were scheduled for the second batch, and instead of your usual schedule of Wednesday, your professor divided your class into two batches.

You weren't even aware that your exams already finished as you were walking to your locker to put away some books.

You understood that Johnny had issues and you hated that you can't do anything to help him. You would do anything for him if that means for the comfort inside him and his peace of mind. You might not know the reason for his depression but everyone has a reason and you know that everybody around you has some issues going on in their private lives. You look around, seeing other students do their thing, minding their own business, some are even bored and waiting for their exams, You saw Jennie and Jongin together looking at you with disgusted faces that you shrugged off.

Johnny saw you as you mindlessly walk your way to the visual room, and he followed behind you silently, as he looks over his ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend. He realized he never really had a connection with Jennie before, they were both just into the sex, and then it gets awkward when they started to talk.

You were already done setting the projector up, walking in the center to lay down when you heard someone entered, and when you saw Johnny at the entrance of the room, his hands on his sweatpants pocket as he gives you a look, you stood up and ran to give him a big hug. You shed tears for him, as you give him a tight hug.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Aren't we friends?" You asked him as you hold him in your arms. "Friends share their pains. So, I'll be here. I just want you to know that I'll be here when you needed someone to be there with you." Johnny fought his tears but who was he kidding? He yearns for someone's affection and not because of who he was but because it was him. And this time, he finally had someone to share his pains with. People already viewed him as someone going on a phase, probably someone rebelling against his parents but Johnny was more than that. He didn't care about it, though. He learned to give less fuck about insignificant people around him.

"My father used to beat me up, Football was just an excuse to cover up these bruises." He admitted. He was disgusted and embarrassed about it. But it was you, and he knows that you're not one to judge someone based off on their appearances.

You shed more tears for him. "Johnny, You don't deserve that, no one deserves that," you say caressing his cheeks. You hated the cheesy statement but you ignore it anyway, what you were feeling at the moment isn't important. Johnny was opening up to you.

The two of you manage to have time off from the university and Practicum. (Johnny started his practicum last, last week, that's why he was MIA most of the time, that time.) Johnny was hanging out at your house, the problem was, your mother and brother are both at work, so you take it to yourself that being alone with him, at your house, is inappropriate. You drag him outside, leading the way to one of your favorite diners.

"I am telling you, you're going to regret that," you said.

"What's wrong with what I ordered?" Johnny did this little thing in his nose, and you take a moment to look at him as you smile at him. You ignore the stares around you, feeling like a sore thumb sticking and obviously, out of place. Johnny scowl at the man who was drunk out of his wits, shamelessly checking you out. This wasn't the first time, this always happened, but not to you though. You told him to ignore it, that man was probably in here to order a cup of coffee.

"Their chicken and waffles here are the best! I'm telling you, I'm not going to share with you."

One pout of his lips towards you and you were switching your plates towards Johnny. You told him, only because this was the first time that he got to try out your favorite dish, and there won't be a second chance in the future. Johnny was kind enough to share a piece of waffle with you. But not the chicken, though. He fell head over heels for it.

Bit by bit, Johnny's walls crumbled down around you, and before you knew it, both of you are inseparable. Johnny dating you spread like wildfire around campus, but there wasn't any truth behind that gossip, you were just a friend. Simple as that.

He was hanging more lately with your brother than you expected. Both of them have the same interest, so it wasn't a surprise when Johnny befriended most of your brother's friends.

Johnny was going on about how Jaehyun's a chill guy, Mark, and Donghyuck introducing him to play games, even Yuta, the University's drug dealer, as they brand him, was included in Taeil's group of friends.

"You didn't tell me that you knew Nakamoto Yuta," Johnny whispered behind you.

"Yeah, For some reason, I didn't want to get involved with most of them. Some girls are crazy about them and I just want peacefulness as I end my college years." You answered. Yuta was from the same department, Jaehyun was from the same university but was taking a different course, as well as Doyounga and Taeyong. Mark and Haechan still need a year before attending college. Ten was studying arts and your brother was a college dropout.

You were having pizza night at your house, your mother was kind enough to accommodate a bunch of men in her tiny house, seemingly impossible to fit 13 men inside, but it did. Instead of the usual party that frat houses and rich kids throw around, Taeil and the others like to keep it to themselves. Sharing one shot glass and downing a cheap rum as everybody waits for their turn. Most of them didn't think that Johnny would be fine with this kind of setup. Besides, he was branded as the campus king and a rich heir at that. He could spend Friday nights at some high-end bar and drink expensive alcohol. But no, instead, here he was, sitting on the cheap carpet your mother owns with a bunch of drunk men but you were glad that your brother is such a nice guy and so are his peers.

Johnny was glad, that he found true people, who accepts him for who he is and not because of who he was.

Doyoung placed you on the empty sofa, you have a low tolerance for alcohol, and you can't keep up with them anymore. The cheapest drink Taeyong bought isn't of cheap quality, you knew better than to judge a bottle chosen by him. You watch them with heavy eyelids, smiling at yourself, Mark and Donghyuck made fun of you by putting thick blankets around you and this was the first time Johnny saw you annoyed by the younger boys.

When Morning came, you were already on your bed as your head pounds. When you came downstairs to leave for school you look around and saw that last night's trace was gone as if 13 grown men didn't make a mess out of your mother's living room.

You wished you had gotten a coffee first when you entered your room way too early and saw that most of the students are yet to arrive, even water would be good, anything liquid down your throat would be good.

You saw Jaehyun and Johnny bidding farewells at the front of the room, students who were present to see the two interacting were shocked, for them, It was rare to see Johnny without his usual crew. But, who are they to decide that for Johnny? It was a rare sight to see, A popular music major and the famous ex-football captain, together?

When Johnny approached his spot beside you, he gives you the cold Iced latte he was holding fresh from Starbucks, completely ignoring unwanted stares behind his back.

"Good Morning," there was a warm aura surrounding him as he settled down beside you, and you look at him in awe. "What?" he asks.

You watched him for a moment, smiling at him as he looks at you questionably. "You're happy," you stated making Johnny pause for a second to think, he was sporting a baby pink hoodie and grey Nike pants, holding his Earpods and Macbook at the other hand. "I think I might be getting there."

Your heart swells up for him and as you fought back the tears that wanted to fall. Johnny reached out to you, wiping the strands of hair that keep falling on your face. "Sorry," you said. People might think that yesterday, Johnny was trying to end his life, and then suddenly, he was okay, because he never was, and you continuously walk on a thin thread around him, Johnny is like a ticking bomb and porcelain that needs to be handled with the utmost care. Five months ago, Johnny doesn't have the motivation to continue living his life, but here he was thriving to know what tomorrow can offer him.

For Johnny, meeting you was his saving grace, problems might fill up in his life, there is this constant reminder that society will always judge him the minute he does something wrong, there is his father, his stepmother who doesn't really pay attention to him, his old life and old self constantly reminding him the pain of the past.

"What happened to your eyes?" there were dark circles under his eyes and for a moment you thought that he has a lot in his mind to think about for the lack of sleep.

"I stayed up till dawn playing overwatch with Donghyuck and Mark last night." He says smiling.

"I'm glad your settling with the boys all right." Johnny watched you, how your long hair flow past your shoulders through your back, he loves the little freckles dancing all over your cheeks naturally and how a touch of pink creeps in your cheeks naturally because of the humid air.

You were really glad. "Do you want to go with me and Ten?" He asks you when your classes ended for the morning, both of you walked to the library to hide from prying and malicious eyes. "He wants to hang out in the nearest coffee shop." he continued and you agreed to go with him, making a turn for the exit.

Johnny ordered an Americano for him and a latte for you, eating the packed lunch your mother made for you and Johnny as you wait for Ten.

Ten arrived with Jaehyun in tow, placing their bags down Jaehyun took the seat beside you while Ten walked to the counter to order their drinks. Johnny looked at you and Jaehyun but ignore the malice running in his head.

"Kim Yerim!" the three of you looked at the entrance to see Johnny's sister entering the cafe, Yerim waved at someone across their table and saw his sister's friend Park Sooyoung waving frantically. Johnny turned to look at you and Jaehyun ignoring his sister who started walking inside, "What happened to you?" he asks Jaehyun,

"Why?"

"You're turning really red." Johnny pointed out and you snickered at Jaehyun who turns to look at Johnny's sister absentmindedly. "Man, That's my sister!" Johnny whispered-shout at him as he fought the urge to laugh at Jaehyun. Someone definitely has a crush on his little sister.

You and Johnny eyed each other, laughing as you both understood telepathically. "What's so funny?" Ten asks when he arrived and the both of you laughed loudly this time.

"Hyung!" Jaehyun shouted at him his ears turning red.

When Johnny got home, he locked himself up in his room that his step-mother finally asked to clean. He was busy waiting for Donghyuck and Mark to play when he heard a knock on his door.

"Can I come in?" His step-mother asked. Yerim's mother is a great person, but that doesn't really mean that she's a good mother to both him and Yerim, he can't really judge her though, she's still young and living her dreams but then his father got her pregnant with Yerim and then here she is stuck at this hell of a household, all three of them under the strings of his father.

"Yes." He says.

Kim Ah-Jong walked inside, placing a warm cup of milk beside him for the first time, "Johnny," She started as he settled at the edge of Johnny's bed facing him. Johnny turns his chair to face her too, holding the warm mug in his hand to seek comfort in this awkward setting.

"I don't know how to start, but I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry," she paused for a second, ignoring the lump in her throat, "I hope you forgive me for replacing your mother's position, and that I'm really grateful because you love your sister more than anything even though you didn't have the same mother."

"It's the least that I could do." He says.

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry if I failed you as a mother, I was busy finding myself to the point you and Yerim grow up without the right amount of affection from us. We're such horrible parents and I wanted to say sorry on behalf of your father. You don't deserve this, no one else did."

That night, Johnny slept soundly in his own home for the first time in a while.

Yerim was shocked to see her mom attending to his brother, it's as if she suddenly had a change of heart and finally started to be a mother to his brother. Her father was another problem, he still hasn't moved on from his son's attempt. Spitting atrocious words early in the morning making Johnny regret even joining the breakfast.

Kim Ah-jong had enough of his husband's wrath, it was still morning and his husband is starting to get on her nerves. She stabs her bread knife on their table as she turns her head towards him, "Is still early in the morning for the love of God, Kim Ji Hoon. Must you really ruin our morning?" she says.

Both Yerim and Johnny were stunned at her, their father shutting up in instant at the fear her wife would stab her.

Johnny and Yerim drive to the University that day together, "Oh, do you mind if we stop by at my friend's house? I promise to pick him up." Johnny asks and Yerim nodded.

Johnny smirked, he was excited to see Jaehyun's reaction.

Johnny pulled up in front of Jaehyun's apartment, sending him a message the was up in front of his building, after a minute, Jaehyun emerges from the entrance of the building running to get to his car with a tumbler in his other hand.

Johnny pulled the window down and Jaehyun saw Yerim first, he stopped midway, flustered that a girl was with his young, and It was no other than his sister. he played it cool and sat at the back.

"Oh, Yerim-ah, this is Jaehyun. He's my friend."

Jaehyun didn't expect her to turn around and bow her head down. "Thank you so much for taking good care of my brother."

Johnny became flustered with Yerim but laughed it off instead. Jaehyun bowed his head towards her saying it was nothing. Yerim was unaware of the looks she was getting from the older boy sitting at the back seat of his brother's car as Johnny keeps throwing playful glances at the back while he drove them to the school.

Graduation was already nearing, both you and Johnny were already finished with your practicum, Johnny was moving boxes towards his car, for some reason, his father allowed him to have his own flat, his step-mother saying that it would be the best for him and his mental health to have some space between them and that they should give him some time and space. His father was adamant at first but has nothing to do in the end.

"Just let him do what he wants, He's already graduating, with honors! He already did everything you wanted it's the least you could do for him." he heard his step-mother argue a while ago with his father. Johnny still had to go home every Sunday at the main house, though.

You and Taeil volunteered to help him with his moving and he was glad, to say the least. Yerim contacted you to do his groceries for him and the two of you left the older boys as you went to the market with Yerim.

Yerim was a cool young woman, she was matured for her own age, you learned that she was very frank at what she wants and that she loves her brother so much.

"I'm really glad my brother meet you," she says as she links her right arms with you, you were both walking to the parking lot, and you smiled at her blushing.

"Honestly, I never really liked his old friends. Jongin? Nope. Chanyeol? He's an asshole. Everyone in that damn team is an ass except for Sehun," she says as both of you entered the market, pulling a big cart in the process, and continued walking ahead. "You and your brother are surrounded by good people. Do you know that? And I'm kind of jealous of you, not that I don't have good friends, I do."

"Well, consider me someone you can be with so those good people will surround you too," you said smiling, Yerim giggled at you.

It took Johnny a week before really settling down in his apartment, he invited the guys over to have a small welcoming party, drinking and playing till the sun rises.

Johnny was busy typing at his laptop as you were both doing your last requirement for college, papers, and documents were all scattered around his living room when he turns his head to look at you. "Are you comfortable with those jeans?" He asks.

You look at your pants, it is uncomfortable.

"I don't have extra clothes," Johnny poked at his cheeks with his tongue, he stood up and went inside his room, when he came back he was holding clean boxer shorts. "You can use this if you want," he says as he extends his arms to you. You gladly took it and went to his bathroom to change.

Johnny thinks this was more dangerous than when he had blood oozing out of his wrist, you had your toned legs on display for him, and only him. It wasn't helping at all. Without knowing, he stared at your legs for a good minute, the urge of having his hands run along the lines of your thighs was becoming unbearable. He was amazed by the lack of hair you had around your arms and legs, was it liked that too with the parts your clothes have covered? He can't help the wild imaginations running around his head with the things he wants to do to you.

Johnny focused his attention back on the screen of his laptop. What the fuck is he even thinking? It's you, his fucking angel. How dare he have dirty thoughts about you. He mentally slaps himself and went back to typing.

You noticed Johnny having a mental crisis because of you and you silently laugh at him, extending your legs further to have your skin touch his thighs.

after hours of being productive with your work, You and Johnny decided to call it a night.

After a week of preparations for the upcoming finals, you and Johnny decided to meet up, the waiter placed both of your orders in front of you and Johnny, who give the waiter a small smile while uttering a quick "Thank you." You eyed Jhonny's food who looks somewhat more delicious than your Pesto Pasta. You don't even know why you ordered it, you never even tasted it before, you just want to— maybe, impress the guy in front of your table who were giving you obvious looks about the taste pallet you had which is definitely of a 13 Years old.

Johnny gives you a look while shaking his head, knowing all too well that you wanted a bite of it. Looking at you who's eyeing his barbeque bacon burger with fries on the side— It's usually what the two of you order and he was shocked that you ordered something out of the ordinary. He knew that you weren't the type of girl to go out of your comfort zone. You like what you usually eat, what you usually drink, and what type of clothing you usually wear. You are a very simple, young woman. You don't usually try things out of the blue, especially, when the two of you are both hungry.

Instantly, Johnny switched both plates. Giving you his food whilst saying a silent goodbye to the famous BBQ burger that he craves so much after winning a football game, which, he deserves. "What are you doing?" you asked shocked. You already saw him digging in and wincing at the taste. "Why the fuck would you even order this thing?" he asked.

You looked at the guy at the other table. You both were giving silent glances, he's good-looking and obviously from another school but you don't do other schools, that is the thing, you'd rather date someone from the same school, same department or same village. You don't like the hassle. People can go ahead and say your such a basic bitch, which in fact, you are. You finally give your full attention to Johnny who looks at his back to find some guy obviously ogling your face. That was the scariest thing in the world for him, guys ogling your face rather than your body, honestly, it was obvious from guys falling for your body— they just want to get in your pants, but guys who fall for your beauty is different.

You start digging in with your food. "This is the reason why I love you so much." You stated giving your burger a bite.

"Why would you even want to eat this." He says. You give him a chuckle as you extend your right arm towards him, offering him a bite of your burger, which he gladly took. "I'm sorry, I'm such a pain in the ass." You said.

"I kidnapped you in your after party and I'm so sorry, I didn't know Jennie's going to be there, and now you're eating something you don't even like. Man, you don't deserve this." You continued. Sincerely saying sorry towards him— picking a fry and dipping it on the ketchup provided at the side of your plate.

For some reason, Things work out for him and the team, It was going to be his last year playing, and the higher-ups decided for him to lead the team again, making Jongin lose face around the campus. It wasn't like before, It was expected, Johnny was just professional around them, leading them at the court and out of sight, after.

"What? No way. This is what I deserve. A peaceful dinner and finally having time with you." He says after biting at the toasted bread the pasta has. It was true though, Johnny was talking with Jennie again, well, but not exactly dating her, as students would say around campus. They dated, but that was that, he can't even imagine being good friends with someone who cheated on him, he was just being civil with her, ending things with a good note and leaving the better past behind him, and you haven't really had the chance to hang out together since their coach intensified their training hours and days, and right after that Johnny would hang out with your brother and the other guys.

"What did my brother say, though? with you being with me tonight? You guys are basically dating each other by now," you joked.

"Yeah, he's cool with it. Don't worry, I told him about our meeting before you actually kidnapped me." He gives you a smirk and you give him a confused look. "I was actually going to ask you for a dinner with me after the game." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Wow." You commented. You were practically like a twin at this rate. "Can I ask you something, though?" Johnny didn't know whether to ask because he was curious or just wait for you to open up to him, for some reason, Johnny felt naked around you. You knew everything about him, you have him wrapped around your pretty little fingers "What if I don't want to?" You countered and he scoffed.

"What was the reason you transferred? you only had a year to finish before graduating," Your face fell and he instantly saw how your face contorted into a frown. "Why are you making that face?" he asked.

"I had a bad break up to the point that I was destroying myself." You finally said like it was nothing. Johnny stopped everything that he's doing, giving you a look as if asking why. He felt like an idiot. How can he? at your worst time? "I'm such a horrible friend." He says.

"It's not your fault, and I'm even sorry that I didn't tell you sooner." You said quietly. Suddenly your favorite dish from the dinner doesn't look appealing anymore. "And I wanted time for myself, you know, he cheated on me."

the clicking of utensils can be heard throughout the diner when he dropped them to the table. He was fuming mad.

"It wasn't anyone's fault, though. if anything. It was mine. I lost interest in our relationship, didn't have time for him, and just lost everything along the way." You said while moving your plate towards him which he gladly took, abandoning the pasta you ordered and eating the half of the burger you had. But the real reason was, you can't stop comparing your ex-boyfriend to him.

"Still isn't a reason to cheat on you." He says after taking a bite. You move your lemonade in front of you and lazily sip on it. He drops the topic knowing all too well that you don't want to talk about it. Still, he felt guilty for some reason, What could go wrong?

Right, Johnny Suh is starting to have feelings for you, and definitely not in a platonic way.

And you don't have any idea about it.

He opened your bag that was beside him and fetch the wet wipes that were inside. He opened it and out of habit cleaned your fingers with it. And you let him, smiling. "I wished I meet you sooner," He looked at you and smiled. "I'm really sorry I haven't been with you for the last 21 years." you joked as you let him dry your fingers with a dry napkin that the diner provides.

You were about to head out— fetching the car keys that you placed on the bowl beside the main door when you hear a familiar honk outside your house. Your hands slip past your keys and you walk the small distance to your door, opening it the cold air of December heats your face and Johnny greeted you with his usual beam on his face, his left hand stretched up outside his window, giving you a wave.

You smiled to yourself, biding your mom a quick goodbye and you were off to school with your best friend.

"Good Morning." He greeted you when you opened the door of his black Audi.

"Good Morning, indeed." You said facing him after securing yourself with the seat belt. There was a tint of pink in Johnny's checks that you choose to ignore.

Pulling up at the parking lot in front of the university's main building where a lot of students lingered chatting with their circle of friends— Johnny smoothly maneuvered and parked at his usual spot.

You both get out of his car and started to walk to the building.

"See you at lunch?" he asked when you neared your classroom— you were slightly shocked. "Won't you be eating with Yerim today?" you asked as you stopped in your tracks facing him. "Doesn't have to." He simply replied and you nod your head. "She'll be mad, John." You said as a matter of fact— facing him while slowly backing away as he marly give you a shrug. "She doesn't have the right, though." you rolled your eyes at him "Just ask her to eat with us!"

Graduation was nearing and you've been offered a job at one of the top companies in the city, you didn't have the reason to turn them down so you accept and were set to sign the contract right after having your diploma.

This calls for a celebration, though.

When Johnny heard that he was the first one to know about something significant in his life, he was delighted.

You found yourself getting tipsy with the cheap booze in front of you and Johnny. You were laughing at something he said about his sister, holding the cheap beer in your hand as you chug the contents down your through. "Okay, That's enough," Johnny said whilst grabbing the cans of beer and putting them back at his refrigerator. You pout back at him but don't argue, you still have to attend your classes tomorrow morning and you don't want to miss anything for the last weeks you have for being a college student.

Johnny tucked you in his bed and you bid the sweetest goodnight on him, he leaves a sweet kiss on your forehead before heading for the couch in the living room to sleep on, since he had no energy to actually drive you home.

You woke up that night, feeling rather hot, unconsciously stripping out of your pants and bra out of habit, you walked to the kitchen for some water.

Walking with blurred vision, you find your way into the kitchen. The lights were dim as you passed by the living room completely ignoring the fact that Johnny could definitely walk on you wearing only your white tee and undies.

You helped yourself around the kitchen, rummaging in the refrigerator for a jar of water, your hands felt the cold lid of the jar, popping it open and chugging the contents down. You giggled after realizing that you should probably use glass and act like a lady for once since you're not in your own place.

You hissed as you struggle, reaching for a glass in the cupboard. "Just why is it placed so fucking high?" you asked yourself. A hand reached for the glass and you turned around, shocked and ready to pounce the person behind you.

you came face to face with Johnny. His face, only inches away from you. His hands find their way to your waist as he looked at you and the glass in his hands, he purred his self some water in the glass and chugged the whole content down.

"I got thirsty," he said. You moved beside so you don't disturb him, stepping at least five steps away.

He looked you up and down, the smell of booze around, is strong, it almost made you gag. Feeling the cold air between your legs, you looked at yourself. "Fuck." realizing that you were only wearing your white t-shirt; that you probably owned since 7th grade— Your breast was obvious that even your nipples were prominent, your shirt just hanging before your hip bone and then your undies.

You mentally slap yourself. He put the glass down and you put your hair in front to at least cover your hardening nipples away from him. Chills run down your spine as he took another step forward, clearing the distance between you.

"Hey-" he cut you off.

"Johnny," he says.

"What?" you asked, barely whispering. Your eyes moved down on their own, from his eyes down to his upper body, he was shirtless, giving you free access to his perfectly sculpted body, his pelvis, so sharp even a God couldn't compare. Again, you felt the burning sensation coming back in your throat. You touched your neck instantly as you tried to swallow.

"My name, say it," he whispered, you looked up only to be met by his eyes, dark with unknown lust as if burning you within. He keeps staring at you, keeping you captive with his eyes that you somehow felt naked.

"Johnny," you whispered trying not to sound like your practically moaning his name. He took a step forward, leaving no space between you and him. "Again." He commands you. You sucked a deep breath as you avoid eye contact.

"Johnny."

He used his index finger to lift your head as his thumb drew circles just below your chin to the base of your neck. blood rushed to your face as you suddenly felt hot on your cheeks as he put his hands on your waist again. He tilts his head, the smell of alcohol mixed with his aftershave and mint filled your senses, suddenly it wasn't too dark anymore.

He brushes his lower lip against yours that you barely felt it. He licked his lower lip as you bite yours. He stares intently at you. "You know, I would appreciate it if you don't walk around the house in these." his hands hot on your skin.

all rationality seems to fly out of the window, both of you staring at each other gazes, Johnny pulling you in for a much deeper kiss. "Didn't know you were this naughty with alcohol in your system," he murmured, Johnny's soft languid kisses were driving you wild, he moves at the base of your neck and sucked at the soft skin before pressing light kisses.

"Do you have any idea how much I want you?" he says softly, your breath hitches without knowing and you deliciously clenched around nothing upon hearing his statement, you were hypnotized by his eyes. Leaning down, he kisses you again.

You put your hands around his chest to push him slightly, gazing up toward him, "I want this," you whispered. "No. Not in the morning when you're sober enough to regret this," Johnny says, you ignore him and pulled him down to kiss him again, and Johnny lost all his logic with how delicious you tasted, you guide his hands on the hem of your shirt and slowly he peels it off for you and lets it fall down the floor.

Johnny put his arms around you and hauls you against his body, squeezing you tightly, his hands traveled down your waist and down to your behind, he holds you against his hips, and you feel his erection, which he gladly pushes into you, easily lifting you from the floor after, you moan once more in his mouth, He eases you towards the bed and you feel your back against the soft cushion once more.

Tentatively, you move your hands up to his face and his hair, tugging at it lightly as if implying for him to take you fully. But Johnny has other plans in his mind. He grabs your hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around your navel, gently nipping his way to your hipbone and across your belly to the other. "Ah," You groan.

Seeing him on top of you, between your legs as you feel his hot breath against your skin, Is unexpected, but you wanted this as much as he wants it. Your hand on his hair, pulling gently as you try to quiet your loud breathing. He gazes up at you through impossibly long-lashed, and chocolate-colored eyes. His hand reaches the hem of your black underwear, leisurely pulling it down without taking his eyes off you, he stops and licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. Johnny leans forward, running his nose up the apex between your thighs, and you feel him.

"You smell so fucking good," he murmurs and closes his eyes. a look of pure pleasure on his face and you practically convulse.

You raise yourself on your elbows to see what he's doing, you were panting, you wanted him right there. shit

Moaning, you felt him run his tongue on the sleek of your heat, "Keep still," he murmurs and then leans down again to kiss down your clit. "How can I not move? you're making me feel this good." you felt him smirk against your skin. "Then, we'll have to work on keeping you still." there was a dangerous tone laced in his voice and you find it impossibly hot and twisted. You're flushed, skin burning, too hot, too cold, and you're craving more as you clawed at the sheets beneath you.

Johnny moves forward and you protested but the pleasure came back once more when he blows very gently on one of yours mound, his hands moving to the other breast, and his thumb slowly rolls the end of your nipple, elongating it. You moan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to your groin.

"Johnny," you were wet, "Please," you beg silently as your fingers clasp the sheet tighter. His lips close around your nipple and he tugs, making you convulse. He doesn't stop.

Johnny moves his fingers around your clit, drawing circles as he laps on your mound, you let yourself go from his touch. His thumb and finger continue doing you deliciously and you fall apart on his hands.

"Oh," you won't lie, that felt extraordinary, and now, you know the fuss around him is about. He gazes down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face and you're still in owe from your high.

Johnny was amazed at how responsive you are, he laced his fingers around you, drawing slow and lazy circles around your clit again, bringing another set of heat in your core. He closes his eyes briefly, his breathing hitches. You're deliciously wet and Johnny doesn't want to fuck you with a condom on, and neither did you.

He reaches over the bedside table, anyway, grabbing a foil packet, and then moving out of the bed to discard the rest of his clothes. You saw him, and your mouth watered at how long and thick he is. He kneels on the bed and pulls the condom onto his length. "I really don't want to use one."

"Is that going to fit in?"

"Don't worry," He breathes, "You're wet enough, Angel. I know you can make me well," He murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of your sex and pushing hard.

"Aargh!" You cry as you felt him sliding in, there was a weird sensation pinching deep inside you as he rips through you without warning. Johnny stills, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph. His mouth opened slightly, his breathing harsh. He groans wanting to move.

"Fuck, baby, so tight."

"Johnny, Wait."

He stills for a moment, "Why?" You held onto his forearms, fucking him with a condom doesn't feel right, you wanted every little part of him, you wanted to feel him. Raw. "I- Can we remove the condom?" Johnny asks as if reading your mind.

You nod at him, You felt him slide out of you, removing the condom and throwing it at the trash bin beside his bed. Johnny positions his self once more, easing on to you, groaning. He loved every bit of it, this was the first time that you had sex without using protection, and the same thing goes for Johnny. Moving your hips up to him, as a sign that you wanted him to move already. He groans. You felt so full, as he let you acclimatize at the overwhelming feeling of him inside you. Naked, and Raw.

He eases back with exquisite slowness. Closing his eyes, Johnny controlled himself not on to fuck you hard, He thrust into you again, and you cry out in pleasure. He shifts into his elbow, and you feel his weight on you, holding you down. He moves painfully slow at first, easing himself in and out of you. You grew impatient and you can't help but move your hips up tentatively to meet his. He speeds up. Pounding on you, picking up speed by the second, merciless and in a relentless rhythm.

you can't help yourself to meet his thrust, making Johnny lose his mind because of you. Your body quivers. a sheen of sweat gathers over you. Your thoughts are scattered. There's only the feeling of him, of you, and him, and you stiffen.

"Come for me, baby," he whispers breathlessly, and you unravel at his words, exploding around him as you climax and shard into pieces with every being you had underneath him. And as he comes inside you, calling your name, thrusting hard, the stalling as he empties himself into you.

Johnny's breathing was ragged as you try to slow your breathing, your heart thumping hard and your thoughts in a disarray, you opened your eyes. His eyes flickered open and gaze down at you, dark but soft. He's still inside you, leaning down, he gently presses a kiss against your forehead then slowly pulls out of you.

Johnny cleaned you up and spoon you to sleep, he hoped that in the morning you won't regret what happened. Because he loved every moment of it.

Part 2? I didn't put the taglist because this is already reposted. so, yeah, hope u guys enjoyed! let me know what you think, I feel like i sucked making this.

#johnny suh #johnnysmut #johnnyangst #johnnyfluff #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct127 #NCTU #nct johnny #marklee #HaeChan #Taeil #Yuta #wayv ten #wayv #johnny x reader

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spacerocksarethebestrocks · 3 years ago

Note

I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say. Come home. (You can’t start a fire without a spark.) for kit and dara please?

For you? Gladly <3

No Choir

read on AO3 or below the cut

Sometimes, Kit feels like he spends his whole life talking.

Council meetings, GAR briefings, Senate sessions, diplomatic summits, negotiations, aggressive and otherwise. He’s shouting commands to his troops, negotiating between warring parties who would much rather kill each other, making pained small talk with senators at the gods-awful gala he has to attend with Mace.

If Kit isn’t talking, then he’s being talked to.

He's listening carefully to Monnk's battle plans, to Mace outline his plans for the Jedi order, to the Chancellor drone on about something or other Kit is supposed to care about. He's sitting in a loud bar being shouted at by his troops or his fellow Jedi. He's listening to someone he's not supposed to offend tell him why the Jedi are a cult of child stealing evil brain washers, or any number of ill informed and frankly tedious opinions.

He's comming Bant and Nadhar, catching up and making sure they're still alive and well. He's listening to Plo or Shaak talk about their beloved troops, to Agen and Mace argue like they're back in the crèche and not two distinguished council members.

There's never a moment of quiet on a Venator either. Even on the rare occasions when he's alone in his quarters, the engines are constantly vibrating below decks, boots are always tramping up and down the corridors outside his door.

There are several words that could sum up the last few years of Kit's life, but loud is the one that sticks in his head right now.

Explosions, blaster fire, the hum of a saber. Rubble smacking against duraplast armour.

The screams of the dying.

Limp bodies hitting the ground.

Nothing but noise, these past few years.

Now though, it’s quiet.

Tonight, a rare night spent in the Temple, he hasn't said a word all evening. He's lying on the sofa in his quarters, his face buried in Dara's chest while she idly strokes his tresses and presses the odd kiss to his ahwey. He thinks they had plans for this evening at some point, it's been months since they've been on the same planet at the same time, but he can't remember.

Talk had dried up about halfway through dinner, but silence between him and her has never been awkward. Why would it be, when everything they've ever needed to say to one another has already been said?

Between the two of them, silence is a balm.

All he needs tonight is to bathe in her presence, to wrap her around him and simply be held. It's almost like meditation, he reflects, as they breathe in perfect synchrony.

What could either of them say, that would be better than that?

What words could possibly improve this moment?

It's an endless comfort to be held by her. Her arms are heavy across his shoulders, and her Force presence is so deeply entwined with his own he can hardly tell where she ends and he begins. It feels like months of stress, of fear and grief, are being pulled out of him by her fingers. They skirt over his ahwey and down his back, drawing every slight ache and pain from his bones and then casting them away.

Kit shuffles up so that his face rests closer to the hollow of her throat, humming in something that isn't quite contentment. He presses his lips to her collarbone, feeling boneless and utterly relaxed. Her fingers move beneath his tresses and start massaging lightly down his spine.

Dara's touches have always felt like magic to Kit, but tonight feels like something different, something more. Perhaps it's just because they have been apart for so long.

Perhaps it's something else. Perhaps it's because he's never needed her comfort so deeply before. Perhaps it's because he knows that this moment, like so many others, must end.

In that respect, he can’t call it contentment. How can he be truly content when he knows that tomorrow morning he must pull himself away from her arms, from her warmth, and head back to the front.

Back to the noise.

So no, he is not content, but there is a strange kind of peace about this.

Dara’s thumbs skirt gently over his gill slits, her chest rising and falling steadily beneath him. Kit hums as her fingers slide delicately down, across his jaw and then hook under his chin.

He shifts easily, allowing her to tilt his face towards hers and slot their lips together.

The kiss is soft, chaste, unhurried.

He can feel her heart beating a steady tempo against his ribcage as her tongue swipes carefully into his mouth.

Kit shifts again, and sinks into the balm of her silence.

And there will be no grand choirs to sing No chorus will come in And no ballad will be written It will be entirely forgotten

And if tomorrow it's all over At least we had it for a moment Oh darling, things seem so unstable But for a moment we were able to be still

No Choir - Florence + The Machine

from this prompt list

#my writing #kit and dara #dara idella #kit fisto #kitra #I really enjoyed (and struggled) to write a piece with no dialogue #thank you for the prompt Hadiya <3

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sylvanfreckles · 3 years ago

Text

Departing Shadows

You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you? Here it is, another rescue from my doomed fanfiction.net account.

Summary: Legolas arrives to winter in Imladris after an ill-fated patrol in Mirkwood. But when the prince's refusal to accept the truth of what happened affects his healing, Aragorn is determined to break through the shadows that threaten his friend's spirit. No slash. Second-place winner of the December 2005 Teitho contest.

This is one of the angstiest things I've ever written, so...it'll be right up someone's alley, I'm sure. Please check the warnings if you're concerned. It was apparently partly inspired by The Pretenders' "I'll Stand By You".

And like I always say. I may cringe, but I will never regret! On to the fic!

(I should warn you...I made up the horse's name just so Aragorn could call him Smokey. He first appeared in another fic that I'll post one of these days. His name might look decently elvish but it's total gibberish.)

...

"Legolas!"

Aragorn refused to let the knee-deep snowdrifts impede him as he surged forward to greet his friend. The prince had come to Imladris for the winter, arriving, it seemed, just ahead of the heavy snows.

"Hello, Estel," the blonde elf said wearily, dismounting from his horse and nodding to the groom that had come to take care of the animal.

"I see Smokey is well," Aragorn commented, referring to an old joke they had between them about the horse's name.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Ranger, his name is Simoliké."

Aragorn laughed, throwing an arm around his friend and pretending not to notice the elf's flinch. "It is wonderful to see you again, Legolas."

The elf sighed, relaxing just slightly as the man guided him down the cleared walkway up to the house. "Are your brothers home?" he asked with a hint of hesitation.

"They're out until this evening," Aragorn explained, biting back a grin as he remembered the twins' protests at being sent away the day the prince was due to arrive. "Ada wanted them to help some of the other homes prepare for winter."

He noticed Legolas seemed relieved to hear this, and wondered at the elf's reaction. Then again, he thought, knowing the circumstances behind the prince's journey perhaps it was not entirely unexpected that he would be hesitant to face the rather exuberant greeting that Elladan and Elrohir would cook up.

"How are you, Legolas?" Aragorn asked as they entered the house, turning his friend to face him.

Legolas looked down, and for the first time Aragorn noticed the dark shadows under the elf's eyes, the deep pallor of his skin, and the almost haunted look in his eyes. "I am fine," the prince said softly.

Rather than outright scoff the elf's answer, as he was used to doing, Aragorn simply nodded. "I believe my father asked to speak with you when you arrived," he said. "He's in his study...just leave your bags, someone will take them up later."

Aragorn walked the elf to his father's study, and was surprised when Lord Elrond asked him to remain. He sat easily in a chair, noting with some concern that Legolas was perched as though about to bolt.

"Legolas," Elrond greeted, setting aside the scroll he had been studying. "How is your father?"

"He is well, Lord Elrond," the prince replied, fidgeting a little.

"Are you aware that he sent me a letter to tell the reasons behind your arrival?"

Legolas flinched. "I had guessed as much."

"Can you tell me what it says?"

The younger elf frantically shook his head, his eyes wide. Aragorn looked on in concern, and only a restraining glance from his father kept him from jumping to his friend's side.

"Then shall I tell you?" Elrond asked, not even waiting for a response. "In his letter he mentioned that your patrol suffered a devastating attack by a party of orcs. All but three of the elves under your command were killed in battle, and those of you who survived were taken captive. The orcs recognized you as captain of that patrol and slowly tortured the other three survivors to death in an attempt to get information out of you. Is this correct?"

Aragorn's eyes widened, and he glanced at his friend. Legolas was trembling, his gaze fixed on Elrond as though afraid the older elf would attack him.

"Legolas, you cannot hide from what happened," Elrond said kindly. "Yes, six of your people are dead...six good elves that should not have suffered so. But you must not blame yourself, Legolas. You must face what happened and—"

But whatever else Lord Elrond was going to say was forever lost as Legolas chose that moment to bolt from his chair and flee the study. Aragorn was after him in a heartbeat, not so much to bring him back to Elrond as out of honest concern for his friend.

Luckily, in his haste Legolas was less stealthy than usual and Aragorn could easily follow him. He found the elf just outside the door, bent over on his knees with his arms around his stomach. Aragorn knelt beside his friend and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling the prince's hair back as Legolas was violently sick.

"I can't, Estel," Legolas whispered, his voice shaking. "He asks me...I can't."

"What happened?" Aragorn asked. "You don't have to tell me if you don't wish to," he added as Legolas tensed. "I want to help you...tell me what I can do."

"I..." Legolas shivered. "I can't, not yet."

"All right," Aragorn nodded. "What do you wish to do, then?"

Legolas sighed and sat up just enough to lean against Aragorn. "I want to forget than any of this ever happened."

"I know," the human said soothingly. "But my brothers will be returning soon," he added, squinting at the setting sun. "Do you want me to tell them you've retired early?"

"No," the elf said, standing shakily to his feet. "I do not wish them to suspect something is wrong."

Ai, anyone who looks you in the eye would know that you are not well, Aragorn thought. "Perhaps you would like to bathe and rest before dinner, then?" he asked, ever mindful of all the lessons he'd received on being a gracious host.

Legolas smiled, and in that smile Aragorn finally saw a glimmer of the elf who was his best friend. "You would not mock me for my 'obsessive bathing'?" he asked.

"Not today," Aragorn said with a laugh. "I believe you know the way...or would you prefer me to escort you so you don't get lost?"

"No, Aragorn," Legolas sighed. "But if you could apologize to Lord Elrond for my behavior..."

"Of course," the human nodded. "I'll speak with him immediately," and get him to tell me just what is going on, he added mentally. "See you at dinner, then," he called before making his way back to his father's study.

"Come in, Estel," Elrond called, not even bothering to look up.

"Ada, what is going on?" Aragorn asked, not even bothering to pass on his friend's apology as he knew Elrond would not hold Legolas' behavior as offensive in any way.

Elrond sighed and motioned for Aragorn to close the door. "In his letter Thranduil told me that Legolas has refused to speak of anything that happened during his captivity."

"He said he doesn't want to talk about it," Aragorn said.

"He is burdened because he feels responsible for six deaths that were beyond his control...six elves who would have gladly given their lives to keep the secrets of Mirkwood safe."

"Did the orcs know he was a prince?"

"No, they thought he was only a captain. Had they known, however, they might have tried to use him as leverage. In that case the results may have been different," Elrond sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"Different?"

Elrond met the human's gaze, a depth of sorrow in his eyes that Aragorn had not expected. "When the deaths of his comrades failed to get him to speak, the orcs resorted to torturing Legolas. He spent three days in their grasp, until another patrol found and rescued him."

Aragorn sat back in shock. "He was tortured..." he repeated softly. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Only time will tell. I will say this, though," Elrond held up one finger. "If he does not come to terms with what happened he will break. His spirit is already shadowed, and I fear what will happen if he does not begin to release this soon." The elf-lord sighed. "I believe he is on the brink of fading."

The young man felt his resolve harden. "I will not let that happen," he said fiercely.

Elrond's gaze saddened further. "I hope so, ion-nin."

Aragorn turned to leave, but hesitated and looked back to his father. "You were wrong," he said softly. "You should not have confronted him. He is not ready."

The elf raised one eyebrow, his gaze tightening slightly. "And how do you know this?"

"He told me," the man said simply. "He will talk to us when he's ready...not before. For now, the best we can do is simply listen and wait for him to tell us. I dare say there have been enough healers trying to draw him out."

Elrond nodded to acknowledge Aragorn's argument, though the human could tell he hadn't convinced his father of anything. Sighing, he left the study and jogged down the hall to the one elf he knew he needed to see: Legolas.

Legolas was not surprised in the least when he came out of the bathing chamber to find Aragorn perched on his bed. He had almost expected the human to come barging in while he was still bathing, as though thinking that catching the prince unawares would make him reveal what he had gone through.

He shook his head, dispelling that thought. Aragorn would never do that to him. "Are you waiting for something, Human?" he asked, forcing a playful tone to his voice.

"Just wanted to see if you needed anything else."

Legolas sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

Aragorn's brow furrowed in concern. "I wasn't going to ask."

The elf paused, trying to keep his hand steady as he reached for his hairbrush. "Why not?" he asked bluntly.

"I don't want to rush you," the man said simply. "I want you to talk to me when you're ready."

Legolas caught himself blinking back tears, his emotions stretched too far at this point for any sort of restraint to last. "What if I'm never ready?" he said in a whisper.

"You will be," Aragorn said confidently. "Take some time...take a few days to rest, if you like. You're safe here," the man added, resting his chin in his hand and studying the prince as he brushed his hair.

The elf sighed, setting the hairbrush aside and lying down on the bed. "I know," he murmured, fighting the bone-chilling exhaustion that seemed to follow him everywhere.

"My father's healers," he said after a few moments, "spent every day trying to convince me to talk about what happened...what I saw, what I went through. Every time I saw them I just started retreating further and further within. It was out of desperation that my father sent me here. He hoped your father could do something."

Aragorn grunted an acknowledgement. "He wants to help," the man said quietly. "And he could probably understand what you're feeling...but I know what you mean."

Legolas turned a curious eye on his friend, waiting for the human to continue.

"In my first months out with the rangers," the man explained, "we came across a pack of wolves. They were bent on destroying us, and managed to kill two of the younger rangers before we killed them. One of those men was my friend," Aragorn added softly. "The first human friend I'd ever made. We were near Imladris, so they brought the wounded here. I knew my brothers and my father had lost friends before...but having so many try to help me recover from my friend's death was just overwhelming and I shut them out. It wasn't until one of the other rangers simply told me that he would just listen if I ever needed to talk that I found myself willing to share anything."

He turned a saddened gaze toward the prince. "If you need to talk, Legolas, I will listen. And whatever you share, I will keep in secret as long as you wish. If you need me, I will stand by you through whatever you face."

Legolas sighed and nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, the world darkening as he drifted off to sleep.

Elladan and Elrohir cornered Legolas later that night in the Hall of Fire, demanding an account from their friend of his journey and the latest news from Mirkwood. Aragorn was relieved to see Legolas at ease, laughing and joking, but disheartened when he saw through the facade to the crumbling spirit within the prince.

He could see that the elf was exhausted, though he wondered if that was more due to the journey here or to the terrible weight he carried. "All right, enough," Aragorn declared, smoothly stepping in and maneuvering his friend away from his brothers. "You can speak with Legolas in the morning, the hour is growing late and I wish to have a word with my friend before he retires for the night."

Ignoring the protests from the twins—half-hearted and jovial though they were—Aragorn steered Legolas to a vacant balcony.

They stood in silence for a while, looking out as a light snow fell throughout the valley. "Everything is so peaceful here," Legolas finally said, sighing and leaning heavily against the railing. "Not like home...there is no shadow over Imladris."

Aragorn grunted softly in agreement. "You know, tomorrow the first thing my brothers will do is drag me out of bed and bury me in the snow. They've done it during the first snow every year, but I wasn't here for the first snow so they'll probably do it with this one. They used to try convince me it would teach me to walk atop it as elves do...but I've long since learned that was a lie."

Legolas chuckled. "And I suppose you'll wish me to come to your aid?"

"Of course," Aragorn grinned. "What else are friends for?" he added, and lighthearted though his tone was he hoped Legolas would understand the hidden message.

The blonde elf sobered immediately. "I know," he said quietly. "I have been struggling all day...here I have a friend who has promised to stand beside me no matter what I face, yet when it comes to facing myself I have not the courage to ask."

Aragorn's heart went out to the elf. "You don't ever need to ask, Legolas," he replied gently. "I will always stand with you."

"Always?" the elf asked, turning to Aragorn so the human could see the tears glistening in the elf's eyes. "I am afraid, Aragorn. Afraid to face what is inside of me...afraid that the memories will be too much...but most of all I am afraid that if everyone sees this they will know I am a coward."

The elf turned away, covering his face with one hand. Aragorn immediately pulled his friend into an embrace, letting the elf sob into his shoulder. "You are not a coward," he said firmly. "Fear is just another battle, Legolas. You must face it, and you can defeat it."

When his friend had calmed down enough to release his death-grip on Aragorn's tunic, the human gently steered the elf through a set of fairly empty corridors to his chamber.

"Now sleep," he ordered, taking a look around the guestroom in which Legolas was staying. Sudden inspiration struck, and he turned to his friend's pack and began digging through it.

"What are you doing?" Legolas asked.

"It is far too cold in here," the man complained. "Even for an elf...you'll catch your death of cold if you stay in here tonight," he stood up triumphantly, a set of Legolas' sleeping clothes in his hand. "Come with me," he ordered, grabbing the elf by the arm.

Ignoring his friend's protests, he ushered Legolas down to his own chamber where a fire was already roaring happily in the fireplace. "This is much better, isn't it?" Aragorn asked, swiftly changing into his own sleeping clothes.

Legolas raised one eyebrow. "My room is not cold, Aragorn."

"Well...maybe not to you but I'll rest much better knowing that you're not sleeping in a room so frigid it could freeze a dragon," Aragorn retorted, climbing into his bed. It was large enough for three or four people, so he knew the elf couldn't protest because of lack of room.

The elf shook his head in amusement, and turned his back to change. Aragorn's stomach somersaulted when he caught sight of a few still-unhealed wounds on the elf's back—marks left from a whip and burns the size of his thumb. Whatever shadow had fallen on Legolas' spirit had left his friend unable to fully heal.

Legolas finished changing and slid into the other side of the bed. "Happy now, Human?" he asked.

"Of course," Aragorn laughed. He blew out the lamp on the bedside table, and waited until Legolas' breathing evened out to slip into sleep.

And when the nightmares struck, as he had known they would, he was right there.

Lord Elrond paused outside of Legolas' room—the prince was a frequent enough guest that one of the rooms was considered his—and knocked softly. Not hearing an answer he quietly opened the door and peeked in, a bit surprised to see that the room was vacant.

Then again, he mused, he shouldn't have been surprised at all.

Chuckling inwardly he stealthily opened the door to his youngest son's room just enough so slip in, and couldn't hold back a smile.

They were still sleeping, Aragorn with his arms wrapped around Legolas and the elf's head tucked under his chin, as though his mere presence could beat back the shadow that hung about the archer's spirit.

It was the nature of their friendship—of the friendship of two friends closer than brothers—for each to protect the other.

This time, Aragorn was the protector...against whatever demons preyed on his friend's spirit.

Elrond held back a sigh as he approached the bed, not wanting to wake either prince or ranger. He knew what he had said in his study had sounded unfeeling and harsh, but he had been hoping to force Legolas to face what had happened. He could now fully see the distress his words had caused the younger elf, and standing at the end of the bed he could make out distinct tear-trails left on the prince's face from whatever horrors he'd endured in his dreams.

And his eyes were closed, as though that would keep the images away.

Elves could usually control their dreams, but Elrond knew that Legolas had been repressing memories of his captivity and those memories would seek to break through, mostly in the form of nightmares.

But perhaps...perhaps his son could succeed where all of healers of Mirkwood and Legolas' own family had failed. The love of a brother, extended without hesitation or condition, might be just what was needed to break through the shadow.

As though knowing he was being thought of, Aragorn opened one eye and regarded his father with a raised eyebrow. Elrond pressed a finger to his lips to indicate silence, and slowly retreated, pausing just long enough to throw a smile over his shoulder at his son and the sleeping prince.

He would not speak about these things to Legolas again, he decided, unless the prince approached him. Perhaps Aragorn was right, and the best cure would be to listen and wait until Legolas was ready to speak.

Aragorn had dozed off when his father left, but woke suddenly with a yelp when a pair of hands seized his feet and dragged him off the bed.

"EL!" he shouted, not knowing which twin it was. Laughing gray eyes peeked into his as the less-responsible twin perched on the bed.

"It snowed last night, Estel," the twin—Elladan—said cheerfully.

"It is far from the first snow," the human grumped, trying to wrestle his feet away from Elrohir.

"Ah, but it is such fresh snow," Elrohir exclaimed, chuckling and pulling Aragorn a few more feet when the ranger tried to sit up and pry his hands away.

"Couldn't the snow wait a few hours?" a fourth voice asked groggily as the prince sat up, awakened from his exhausted sleep by the commotion.

"Legolas! Help me!" Aragorn called, ignoring the surprised glances of the twins who had evidently not seen Legolas when they entered the room.

"Aye, help him!" Elladan shouted, jumping to his feet and grabbing Legolas by the wrist. He dragged the prince off the bed, ignoring the protests and finally managing to dump the blonde elf, along with several blankets and a few pillows, onto the floor.

"What do you say, 'Dan?"

"I say the smelly human needs a bath!" Elladan exclaimed. "Shall we go?" he added, easily flinging Legolas over one shoulder and opening the door.

The prince was helpless with laughter in spite of his protests by this time, as every time he tried to wriggle away Elladan managed to poke him in a ticklish spot.

Elrohir followed, still dragging Aragorn by the ankles. The ranger began protesting that they would have to go downstairs—surely Elrohir would let him walk that much?

But he had forgotten his brother's tenacity. Elrohir did let go of Aragorn's ankles, but only to grab him around the chest and haul him down the stairs backwards, leaving his feet to drag behind.

Elladan was waiting impatiently by the door when Elrohir finally arrived with his struggling captive. Together they took their prisoners outside, Elladan depositing the prince gracefully in a clear spot in the yard and running to aid Elrohir.

Aragorn shouted in protest, but was no match for the twin elves as they managed to bring him to the ground, burying him in the snow and wrestling with him until he was completely soaked, shivering in his sleeping clothes.

"A-ada will b-be angry with y-you if I c-catch cold," Aragorn muttered through chattering teeth, hugging his arms tightly to his chest to preserve some warmth. Why did he let them to do this to him every year?

"Ah, but it is winter and you have nowhere better to be," Elladan said with a grand shrug. "What better place than the healers' wing?"

Legolas laughed at this, still sitting aside atop a patch of unbroken snow.

"The prince is amused," Elrohir commented.

"Yes...perhaps before he judges this as amusing he should experience it for himself," Elladan suggested with a wicked grin and in a flash the two had jumped to their feet and ran for the prince.

To Aragorn's alarm, the prince reacted with wide, fearful eyes and turned to flee.

The twins laughed as they chased him down, gleefully giving him the same treatment they'd given their brother. But Aragorn heard Legolas' protests grow more frantic and fearful, until he was in a high state of terror and begging the twins to stop.

Ignoring his own discomfort, Aragorn plunged into the unbroken snow and drove his way forward to the three elves, angered when his brothers treated the younger elf's fear as part of the game.

"Get off him!" Aragorn shouted, somehow pushing both Elladan and Elrohir away. Legolas lay curled up in the snow, his arms over his head and his breath coming in terrified pants. "Legolas?" he asked softly, placing a hand on the trembling shoulder.

The prince recognized Aragorn's voice and launched himself up into his friend's arms, burying his face in the man's sodden tunic to muffle his sobs of fear. Aragorn was shocked to see a small amount of blood on the snow, and more on the back of the elf's tunic.

With a warning glance at his brothers to stay back, Aragorn wordlessly gathered up the archer in his arms and trudged back into the house, heading straight for the healers' wing.

The moment his son entered the room carrying the trembling elf, Elrond knew the twins' yearly prank had gone tragically wrong. He sighed to himself, pulling back the blankets on one of the beds and nodding for Aragorn to set the prince down. He would have to explain this to his sons later...it wouldn't be fair to them to leave them wondering.

Then, as Aragorn showed him the reopened wounds on the archer's back, his concern grew.

"Ada, he was terrified," Aragorn confessed in a low voice, hoping they were far enough away that the blonde elf couldn't hear them. "He was pleading for them to stop, but they were just joking."

"I should have told them," Elrond sighed.

Aragorn agreed with his own sigh, bringing a few rolls of bandages over to bind his friend's wounds. Elrond dispensed a servant to bring down dry clothes for his son and the prince, seeing that both were cold and wet.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked, kneeling beside the bed to look his friend in the eye. Elrond glanced over and was startled to see the prince pale-faced, tears streaking out of tightly-closed eyes. "It's all right," the human said soothingly, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "It's over...they're gone."

The servant returned with the clothes, and Elrond politely turned away, pretending to be hunting for something on the herb table, as Aragorn helped his friend change before changing himself.

"A-aragorn?" the prince whispered.

"Yes?" the man was kneeling again in an instant, grasping the white-fingered hand that extended toward him.

"Will you stay?"

Aragorn smiled tenderly. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Several hours later, after hearing the story from their father and shoveling all the paths from the house to the various outbuildings, Elladan and Elrohir peeked into the healing room to see how the prince was faring.

Legolas was sleeping again, Aragorn in a chair at his side with a book in hand. He glanced up at his brothers and offered them an apologetic glance.

"We came to apologize," Elrohir whispered.

Aragorn shook his head. "You didn't know," he murmured.

"Still...when he asked us to stop..." Elladan's voice trailed off when he thought of how he and his twin had unintentionally hurt their friend. "Is he all right?"

"He will be," Aragorn nodded. "He finally told me what happened," he added with a sigh. "He slept a bit just after you...after we came in, but woke up after another nightmare. This time, though, he told me what it was about."

Elladan raised one eyebrow, unconsciously imitating his father. "Another nightmare?"

Aragorn nodded sadly. "He had four last night. Ada said it was repressed memories trying to break through, and now that he finally told me what happened it seems he's sleeping peacefully."

The twins agreed, both noticing that the prince seemed more at peace than he had been since his arrival. "I hope can forgive us," Elrohir murmured.

"He already has," Aragorn replied gently. "He knows you didn't mean to cause him pain."

Elladan nodded, eyes suspiciously damp-looking. "Well, I guess we'd better get changed if we want to be warm and dry for dinner," he commented wryly. "Ada has had us clearing the paths for the past few hours as punishment for reckless behavior."

Aragorn couldn't keep a broad grin from spreading across his face. "Doesn't he do that every year?"

"Aye," Elrohir shrugged. "I'm beginning to think it's less punishment for throwing you in the snow and more because he knows we'll actually do it."

"You do deserve it," Aragorn interjected laughingly.

Elladan just snickered. "It's worth it every year to see your face, though," he teased. "Come on, 'Ro, unlike some humans we don't enjoy playing in the snow," he added, leading the way out of the healers' wing.

Neither he nor his twin caught the devious smile spreading across their brother's face.

Clean, dry, and impeccably dressed, Elladan and Elrohir sat at the table in the dining hall merrily chatting with the other elves in the hall. Their father sat at the head, as usual, either conversing with the elves to either side of him or just watching out over the hall.

Legolas and Aragorn were not in their places, but given the prince's frail condition of late the twins expected them to be taking dinner in the healers' wing.

And so neither one suspected anything until two rather large buckets filled with snow were upended over their heads, the buckets left to sit like oversized hats.

Pushing the bucket off his head and shaking the snow out of his eyes in fury, Elrohir glared about the room to see who had done such a thing. His eyes lighted on Aragorn and Legolas, sitting across the table with suspiciously-innocent faces.

"Why, Legolas," Aragorn said in mock amazement. "I do believe it is snowing indoors."

Legolas nodded, looking up at the ceiling as though it were a wonder to behold and valiantly holding in his laughter.

His heart was lighter than it had been in weeks. Aragorn had listened, offered what strength he could, and simply stood with Legolas as he faced the fear in his soul.

And beyond that fear was the peace he had thought he lost.

Finally, the shadows were departing.

#lord of the rings #fanfiction #teitho writing contest #rescued from ff.net #aragorn #legolas #elrond #angst #hurt/comfort #friendship #aftermath of torture #platonic bed sharing

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ninacarstairss · 3 years ago

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Golden

Just some self indulgent fluff for the herongraystairs week where Jem is well and never became a silent brother, Tessa never had to let go of half of her heart and Will has the two loves of his life by his side but still keeps on biting vampires

“You cannot possibly tell me you bit another vampire, Will!”

Will and Jem had just came back from a patrol night that had taken a turn for the worst. There seemed to be some peculiar demon activity in some parts of Soho that turned out to be a rogue clan of vampires wreaking havoc in taverns and clubs, attacking when people were most drunk or tired from a long night. Charlotte had sent out Will and Jem to try and neutralize the problem, together with Gideon and Gabriel. When they found themselves in the den of this clan, outnumbered and unprepared to fight them with proper weapons, they'd tested one of Henry's latest inventions to even their odds: Henry had manage to produce a device that radiated light as bright as sunlight but with different components. It might have worked well with demons, but it did very little to vampires, since it was artificial light. Even so, it was their only chance, so Will had lit the device and the searing light caused the vampires to back away for a moment. They had soon realized it couldn't hurt them, but a second's hesitation was all the Shadowhunters needed. Gabriel shot his arrows and covered for the others as they lunged for the rogues. The place went dark again in a few moments but they succeeded nonetheless.

As they came back to the institute to check on their injuries and update Charlotte on the night, Will had slipped away to look for Bridget and ask for a bucket of holy water to be delivered to him without fussing anyone else, but Jem had of course found him.

“I knew you'd do that, you nitwit!” Jem says as he comes up behind Will. “This is the fourth time in six years, I'm starting to think you enjoy drenching yourself in holy water.”

“I certainly do not,” Will replies, a playful spark in his tone. “It was necessary, that vampire was sneaking up on you!”

Jem heaves a sigh. “Thank you for your heroic gesture, my dearest Will” he mocks, “but I'm certain you're aware that you had weapons on your gear for a reason, aren't you?”

“I– well, I had to think fast.”

Jem throws his head back and laughs. “You surely weighed the options carefully,” he says. He throws an arm around Will and heads for the corridor where their rooms are. “Come on, we need to get you out of that gear and get you drunk on holy water,” a ritual, Jem thinks, they were probably too accustomed to by now.

Will smiles and follows him. “Find Tessa on your way up to the attic. And ask for books. I'm going to need a distraction.”

“Are you implying,” Jem frowns, “that Tessa and I aren't a fitting enough company?”

Will grins a plants a kiss on Jem's mouth. “I think you know the answer to that question quite well.” He flashs a dazzling smirk at Jem before he makes for his room to change out of the gear.

– – – – – – –

“So, did this one taste particularly good?” asks Tessa as soon as she comes into the attic, a tray of pastries balanced on her hands for the long night ahead of them. Both Jem and Will laugh.

“Yes, my darling, quite salty and bloody. There was something missing, though”

“Let me guess, your senses?”

“Why, has he ever had any? Did I miss that?” asks Jem.

“Ah” Will heaves a dramatic sigh. “Betrayed by the ones I love the most. You should be thankful.”

“And you should be drinking buckets of holy water instead of bathing yourself in it,” Tessa shoots back. “But thank you for saving our dearest Jem,” she says, her tone softening on the name. She leans in and gives him a featherlight kiss.

Tessa lays down next to Jem on the floor and lets her head rest on his legs. “What happened, then?” she asks, looking up at Jem's clear eyes.

“We ran into some ill-mannered vampires.”

“Meaning that they were quite happily calling us their dinner,” intervenes Will.

“Yes,” Jem concedes. “It was a rogue clan. They must have been newly turned because no other clan had ever heard of them. However, we tried using Henry's new invention to gain some time.”

“Did it work?”

“Better than his last invention,” says Will. “This one didn't almost deafened us all.”

“It was actually very helpful,” confesses Jem. “It gave us time to even the numbers. Then it stopped working, everything went dark again and, as we were fighting, Will apparently bit yet another vampire.”

“You know, Will, you are becoming quite predictable” Tessa says, chuckling.

“Oh! How– ” cries Will.

“Yes,” Jem cuts him off, “my love, you should try some new moves sometimes–”

A splash of water comes at them. Jem and Tessa hear Will laugh as they shake droplets of water from their faces and hair. Jem's half-drenched clothes cling to his body and Tessa's dress feels twice as heavy soaked in holy water. Their gazes meet and a laugh escapes them as they watch Will grab a soaked pastry from the tray with a rather satisfied look on his face.

There is still a dramatic frown on Will's face when he turns back to look at them and Tessa and Jem exchange a brief glance, their eyes gleaming, smiling at what they both are thinking.

Jem's grin widens even more when his eyes return on the dark haired boy. “Have I ever told you how cute you look when you're angry?”

That earns Jem another bucketful of water but this time he dodges most of it, as he lets out a bark of laughter. The shadow of the scowl on Will’s face vanishes with a chuckle and Jem notices his gaze soften as it lays on him and Tessa and the smiles on their faces.

Time seems to stretch out for a moment as their gazes intertwine and lock. An always inexplicable quietness settles in the air between them as they take in the sight of each other in the soft gleam of sunrise. Jem catches Tessa's grey eyes washed in the golden light and Will's tousled wet hair sticking to his forehead. Driven by a desire he cannot silence, he raises a hand and cups the nape of Will's neck, running his lean fingers through the silky curls, and Will revels in the touch. Jem's other hand seeks Tessa's and she closes the distance between them to kiss him. In the familiarity of the moment Jem thinks of hundred others like this, when the warmth in his chest rises to a steady flame, a sure certainty often bigger than himself, a warm embrace in which he would gladly lose himself over and over again.

And he does; savouring the love gleaming in Will's impossibly blue eyes and Tessa's soft lips, welcoming this marvelous feeling he never thought he'd have the chance to experience.

They sit still for an infinite amount of time, the golden light pooling in the room, the stinging smell of holy water still dampening the air around them.

After a while, Will smiles and grabs another one of the pastries, a spark crossing his eyes. “So,” he asks, a mischievous undertone again in his voice, “did you bring me any real entertainment?”

His eyes meet Tessa's as she takes out a book from behind her back. The cover, Jem knows without having to see it, reads A Tale of Two Cities. He rolls his eyes as Will smiles. “Ah, you know me well, my beautiful Tess,” he says as he reaches his hand to the tray to grab some more food. “You know,” he adds, taking a bite, “holy water tastes much better with these things.”

Jem grins as Tessa opens the book and starts reading aloud. Will's eyes lay on Jem for a moment and he looses himself in that immensely deep blue and the gentle expression in it.

In the warm light of sunrise Jem finds himself thinking that if their wretched pasts, if the pain they'd endured and the people they'd lost were what it needed for the three them to be together on the floor of an attic, drenched with holy water and surrounded by pastries and a good book, it was all worth it.

Tag list: @cordaisya

(let me know if you want to be added!)

#cece writes #my writing #herongraystairs week #herongraystairs #i’m not entirely happy with how this turned out #i definitely can’t write 1800s english #will herondale #jem carstairs #tessa gray #tid #the infernal devices #tid fic #tsc #tsc fic #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters #userfandomsnett

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citrus-lady · 4 years ago

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Agni Headcanons That No One Asked For But Everyone Will Get Because This Man Needs More Love.

As usual 18+ with nsfw elements. Minors cover your pure eyes. No one asked for this but I just love this man so much I would risk it all for him.

Agni is so loyal and respectful and would rather claw his own eyes out than hurt/ upset or disrespect his s/o in any way.

Agni is the definition of devoted, caring, and passionate. All he wants to do is take care of his s/o and make them as happy as they make him.

He is a gentleman and proves that chivalry is not dead. He opens doors for you, helps you downstairs and out of carriages, carries you when your feet are tired. Part of this is because he spends so much time in butler mode it can be hard to come out of it sometimes but he also does it because he believes that is genuinely how you treat your s/o.

Agni is protective. Not in an overbearing sense or like he doesn’t believe that you can take care of yourself, but more like “ If you’re doing this dangerous thing then I will be with you the entire way”. If you work early in the morning or late at night he will walk you to and from work. If you are cooking and need something cut or something from the tall shelf he’ll help you. That sort of thing.

If you’re being attacked you can be damn sure that he is not going to stand by and let you be hurt. This man would literally die protecting you.

This protectiveness also extends to when you’re sick. As we see in Book of Circus both Agni and Soma take physical health very seriously and believe you should take care of/pamper those you care about when they fall ill. So you can expect curry and soup in bed, massages, couple baths, cuddling, and he’ll even tell you stories/ read to you in bed.

This man loves taking baths together. Not in a sexy way though. Don’t get me wrong, he finds you gorgeous, but in his mind bath time is a time to relax and be intimate. He likes to wash your hair and body and likes it when you do the same. He feels truly at peace when you are just relaxing between his legs with your back against his chest, just soaking in the warm water. That being said, if you did want to get a little frisky in the tub he wouldn’t be opposed.

This protectiveness would only double if you were to become pregnant with his child. BTW he would literally cry if he found out you were carying his child.

Soma absolutely adores you as well. Not only do you make Agni happy but he sees you in a motherly/sisterly way as well. I feel like in order for Agni to love someone Soma would also have to like them.

Soma knows that quality time is important in a relationship. After all, he and Agni spend every day together and look at how strong their relationship is. Because of this Soma tries to give Agni more time off to be with you. Soma might even invite you to work for him as a maid or tutor or something so that you and Agni can spend more time together. This also gives you a reason to move into Ciel’s townhouse with them and takes some of the workload off of Agni. If they were to go back to India then you bet your sweet ass you are going too.

Since Agni is one of Sebastian’s few ‘friends’ Sebastian is very happy that you make Agni happy. Sebastian respects you not only for who you are but because he respects Agni and obviously there is something special about you if you were able to capture his heart.

Ciel also respects you and is happy for Agni but less so than Sebastian. Ciel is just glad that Soma has someone else to pester now.

Agni would cook and clean for you gladly and he is an amazing cook, even up there with Sebastian. He would be really happy if you asked him to make curry for you, especially if you liked it a lot. Agni would also want to learn how to make dishes from your culture.

Agni learned how to dance for you. When you, Soma, and he were invited to one of the Phantomhive’s balls he asked Sebastian to teach him so that he could dance with you. He had noticed at prior parties how much you had wanted to dance and wanted to learn for you. It was actually really cute and funny because he had to use Mey-rin as a stand-in for you. At first, he was reluctant to do so because you’re his one and only of course, but Sebastian convinced him that A) a dance doesn’t really count as cheating and B) this was the only way he could learn as everyone else in the mansion was male ( I’m sorry if your a reader who identifies as male! Just ignore that part if you are). Later that night he surprised you by asking you to dance and proceeding to waltz you around the room!

Lizzie thinks you are a really cute couple and beforehand she was helping you get ready in a guest room. She positively squealed when she saw you two dancing and then proceeded to try and convince Ciel to dance with her, which he reluctantly did.

If you wanted to dance with Soma, Sebastian, or anyone else that he knows and trusts he would be fine with that but he would not like it if you danced with anyone he didn’t know. He doesn’t trust the person’s intentions. In his mind, almost everyone is after you because he just thinks you’re so great and anyone who doesn’t also think so must be a fool.

This man is a giver, not only in bed but in life too. His main goal in life is to take care of those he cares about and make them happy. He is so loyal and supportive. Honestly would be a great dad. I think as a dad he would be protective without being super strict. Also, he does not believe in spanking his children.

Like I said before, this man is a giver in bed. In his mind, your pleasure comes first and foremost and his pleasure is derived from yours.

He’s going to worship your body and he absolutely dies inside when you return even a fraction of the favor. His natural pace is a slower, deeper, gentler pace but honestly, he’s going to do whatever his partner wants. This man is just so passionate. Not to mention how strong he is and how much stamina he has. He will go as long as you want and as many times as you want. I would sell my soul to Sebastian to see this man in the nude.

This man will give you oral. He will literally spend so long doing it too. You’re going to have at least one orgasm before he even gets to the main course. The king of soft and loving caresses. Caresses your thighs, legs, shoulders, ( breasts if you have them). He also likes kissing your lips and neck while doing the deed.

Is so romantic. Will plan things like romantic picnics and dinners and will set the mood with flower petals and scented candles/incense. He just wants you to know how much he loves you.

Will also do small, casual dates as well. Cooking dates, grocery shopping dates, strolls through the garden, or around town.

I picture him with a kind and compassionate someone. I think his s/o is more down to earth and chill. I can’t really see him with someone particularly childish or hyperactive. I think he gets enough of that from Soma and although he cares deeply for Soma, it can be a bit draining at the end of the day. Plus if his s/o was closer to Soma’s age he might feel a little weird about the age difference. ( Agni is 31 and Soma is 17). Not to say that his s/o isn’t energetic or that he wouldn’t date a younger s/o, but I feel like they are more mature behavior-wise.

Agni would also be really great at handling an s/o with mental health issues or that has a traumatic past/ has been through something traumatic. His patience and understanding mixed with his compassion, caring, loyalty and love would make him an excellent listener and healer.

This man smells like spices and Indian tea. He would also let you braid his long section of hair. This man also radiates heat like a furnace.

#agni black butler #agni x reader #black butler #black butler headcanon #black butler headcanons #agni headcanons #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji headcanons #agni x reader headcanons #black butler x reader #black butler x reader headcanons

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dhwty-writes · 3 years ago

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Chapter 19 - Golden Gowns and Eventful Evenings

I have no excuse, so I will just post this and run

Jaskier and Geralt attend the banquet in Goldfurt together.

prologue | previous | next

Read on AO3

Being the biggest city between Yspaden and Mirt, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Goldfurt exceeded any and all expectations Jaskier might have had before returning after his twenty-year absence. Being governed by his brother-in-law, Janina’s husband no less, it shouldn’t come as a surprise either that they exceeded them in the wrong direction.

Truth be told, he did not remember a lot about the city from his pre-Oxenfurt days. Of course, they had been obligated to visit the banquet every year, both as neighbours as well as the family of the future Countess, but Jaskier had been barely thirteen the last time he had attended the festivities. The only thing he remembered from that visit was his short-lived infatuation with one of Goldfurt’s squires. It had promptly ended when said squire had basically wiped the floor with him in the training yard during their one and only interaction.

After that unpleasantness he had gladly given a rather wide berth to the city and the castle at its centre. Jaskier had even managed to forestall the unhappy reunion for another year due to a cough at the most convenient of times.

This year, however, there was no excuse in the world that would have made it appropriate for him to stay away. Not with his title, not with his renewed betrothal to Lady Alina. Not with the two newest additions to his household, he was supposed to parade around like a pair of exotic animals.

Jaskier ground his teeth as he tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. ‘Melitele’s tits, I’d gladly attend the dinner if I could leave Ciri and Geralt in Lettenhove,’ he thought bitterly. But that would not only be a grievous insult, it would also rouse more suspicion and rumours than they already did. ‘Best hide them in plain sight.’ And if something unforeseeable were to happen, they could also make a quick escape.

Due to these unforeseen developments, the lack of information had posed quite an obstacle. If there was one particular lesson the twenty years with Geralt had taught him, then it was that ignorance in the face of danger could be fatal. And while one might assume, that a witcher’s lifestyle was much more deadly than a Viscounts, Jaskier would gladly go and fight a dozen ghouls with nothing but his lute, instead of entering the vipers’ nest that was Goldfurt.

Extensive reconnaissance—consisting of squeezing as much information as possible out of his three sisters—had revealed that he might actually have better chance with the ghouls. The silk doublet his servant buttoned up would do little against daggers in the dark or libations laced with poison. Not that he expected his kin and kinfolk-to-be to try and murder him at a dinner party, of course. He expected them to have some decorum at least.

Still, he had entered the city knowing fully well that he was anathema to at least half a dozen invited guests, not least of all their host. On the other hand, which relative of his wife was not anathema to Filip Firkalt? None of them, that was which. It had been one of the primary sources of their entertainment in the past days.

It was no secret that while he and his sisters nursed a precarious love-hate-relationship, the loving aspect was completely lost on the in-laws. The source of that animosity, of course, lay in the title he now bore. The moment his disappearance after his graduation from Oxenfurt had become public knowledge, both of his brothers-in-law had begun vying for what was rightfully his, Kerton with his heir even more so than childless Goldfurt. The fact that he had returned to rob them of what they had already considered theirs, was just another strain on their relationship.

Another of the lessons Geralt had imparted to him, was the importance of a plan. So, not only had the four Pankratz siblings spent their evenings mocking the stupidities they had been forced to endure by the hands of the men in their lives the past two decades, they had also conspired how best to pay them back within the confines of propriety. Two of them, at least. Janina and her blood-tear mourning garb had only been the appetiser for the main course that was to be served at the banquet tonight.

Or rather, it should have been. For the first vital life lesson he had learned on the Path was that every plan, no matter how good or bad, immediately went to shit upon the first contact with the opponents. Theirs had been no exception to the rule. The memory still made him clench his fist in anger. The disrespect shown to him and his sisters by not riding out to greet them was one thing. But he should have punched Goldfurt in the face when he first had called Geralt a dog. ‘Right then and there, castle peace be damned.’

“M’lord?” the attendant fussing over his cuffs called his attention with a meek voice. “Begging your pardon, but you have to let go of that fist, m’lord.”

“Oh,” he replied dumbfounded as his eyes travelled down to the rings he was holding in his hands. “Of course.” Slowly, he uncurled his tightly clenched fingers, while she slipped the signet ring as well as the embellished buttercup ring in place.

Jaskier stared blankly at his mirror image, fighting the urge to smile at the sight of him clad in Lettenhove ochre and muted autumnal colours. It would be the last time to dress for such an occasion before winter undoubtedly would settle in but a few days. He would be in need of a level head as much as a stoic façade for this evening. No matter how much he wanted to shout out his delight over his delivery from the straightjacket that had been his mourning garb. He wouldn’t have a lute to do so anyways, so there was no point in it.

In any way, there was no bard required this evening. He needed to be the Viscount de Lettenhove instead, protecting all those who had sought shelter at his home and hearth for the winter. ‘Geralt chief among them all.’ The witcher had protected him for nigh twenty years of his life, after all. After all these years of watching helplessly as villagers, nobles, and innkeepers had made Geralt’s life miserable, he was finally in a position to repay him. And it was high time that he did so.

“Will that be everything, m’lord?” the servant asked with a coy smile.

“Yes.”

He bowed obediently, still lingering. “Shall I be waiting for your return?”

Jaskier spared him a short considerate glance. He was quite an attractive fellow, although far too young. “Best not,” he answered, doing his best to keep the contempt from dripping into his voice. It wasn’t directed at the servant anyways. “It will be rather late, I’ll wager.” He certainly wasn’t desperate enough to take a man to ben who might not be offering his companionship for his own volition but because of ill-directed instructions he’d received.

Besides, he had a witcher to get to. The servant bolted from the room and Jaskier quickly followed, but not before grabbing the bundle on his bed.

His witcher had been billeted at a ridiculous distance to Jaskier’s own rooms in quarters which found themselves in a distressingly poor state. Well, nothing in Goldfurt Castle classified as ‘poor’ exactly, but in comparison to the usually upheld standard, it was scarcely better than the rug on the floor he’d been offered at first. The unfairness of it all made his blood boil.

Geralt, on the other hand, remained as unfazed as Jaskier was accustomed to. He had even kept him from running back to make good on his first impulse to bestow their host with a bloody nose. Instead, he had praised the quarters and assured him that he would be just fine, before ushering him out.

‘Maybe,’ a treacherous voice in the back of his head hissed, ‘he’s even glad to get away from you.’

Jaskier gnawed on his lower lip. He couldn’t even fault Geralt for that. His own welcome for his oldest friend had been anything but warm and he was well aware of the coldness freezing the air between them. ‘He still hasn’t apologised,’ he reminded himself. ‘Stubborn mule.’ Instead, Geralt had hurt him even more, albeit unknowingly so. Not that that made it hurt any less.

The same door that had slammed shut behind his back a few days prior blocked the path before him now. Jaskier didn’t allow himself a second thought and swung it open. “Ger—” He was with one foot over the threshold already, when he suddenly remembered and the fear of finding Geralt in bed with Marin stole his voice.

“My lord?”

He appeared to be in luck. Geralt was alone in the chamber. And nearly naked. The only strip of fabric on his person was a towel slung low around his hips and the shirt in his hands, his hair still damp from a bath.

“Uhm,” he said eloquently, while he desperately tried to get his thoughts into order. Unfortunately, he did not manage before his mouth started talking without any cerebral input: “You’re not wearing that,” he blurted of all things.

No ‘Good evening, Geralt’, or ‘How are you enjoying your stay, Geralt?’, or even ‘Fuck, why can’t we go back to how it was before, I’m slowly losing my mind, Geralt.’

No, it was 'You're not wearing that.'

If ever there was a moment for the skies to part and the gods to strike him down with a well-placed bolt of lightning, this was certainly is, right before 'You don't want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting.' What was it about the witcher that made him so exceptionally stupid? Whatever it was, if the gods could hurry up and erase his existence from this earth, Jaskier would be much obliged, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, nothing happened.

Nothing of that sort, at least, because something happened and that was Geralt slowly glancing down at the towel and up at Jaskier again to deadpan: "I wasn't going to."

"Good," Jaskier's mouth ambled on.

He had to hand it to Geralt, the fact that he didn't so much as raise his eyebrows before moving to put on the shirt was undoubtedly one of his greatest displays of discipline so far.

"You're not going to wear that, either," Jaskier continued, slowly regaining control of his words again.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice impossibly honest. As if there was nothing wrong with the black shirt and breeches, he had worn on the day they’d arrived.

“Because,” he quipped and tossed him the bag he was carrying, “you’re not going as a witcher tonight. This is my brother-in-law’s banquet; we have a reputation to uphold. You're my friend and anyone who knows me, which is everyone here, is well aware that the only way my friend is dressed in anything but the finest clothing would be over my dead body. I'd never allow you to stand out for your tastelessness and considering that you don't appear to have a fashion sense for yourself, I'll gladly provide you with assistance."

"Hmm." Geralt cleared his throat and said: "I need to change if you want me to wear that." He flourished the expensive clothes in his hand.

"Right." Jaskier took a breath to steady himself. But somehow, his feet didn't move.

He raised his gaze with an amused expression on his face. "You need to leave the room, my lord, unle-" The expression on his face changed rapidly as if he was just realising what he was saying.

The barbed retort was already on the tip of his tongue: 'Why, Geralt, are you offering I stay to watch?' But the image of him and Marin kissing was much too present in his mind as it was, so Jaskier bit his lip to keep it from escaping. 'He's not mine to keep,' he reminded himself. 'Never has been, never will be.' "Right," he forced out and turned around, "I'll wait for you in the hallway." He wasn't sure either of them would survive the dinner otherwise.

Jaskier did his best to keep from fidgeting and pacing while he waited outside, which was no easy feat considering the nervousness and hum of energy building within him. Normally, he wasn’t prone to fits of anxiousness. Tonight, however, there was so much that could go wrong, so much that would ruin everything, so much—

Mercifully, the spiral of dread was interrupted by the quiet lock of a door behind him, accompanied by Geralt politely clearing his throat.

“Finally!” Jaskier meant to say as he turned on his heel. What got out was more of a garble: "Hngh." Geralt looked... dashing. There was no other word for it, truly. Well other than 'otherworldly beautiful and I can't decide whether the outfit choice was the best or worst idea I had in a long time and shit, I really should have taken that into consideration; he's not yours to keep, Jaskier, get it together, gods damnit!'

Yeah, dashing was much easier than that. Blue suited him, but Jaskier had already known that. He had chosen the outfit for their last ball together as well, after all. But in contrast to that disastrous outfit, the witcher wore clothes that actually fit him, instead of too small things Jaskier had pulled out of his bag. And on top of that, the witcher had the audacity to smirk. "You approve, my lord?"

"I do," Jaskier managed without embarrassing himself further. "We should go," he decreed. "The Count and Countess will make their appearance soon; it is considered terribly impolite to arrive after them."

"And you're only aiming for impolite?" Geralt teased.

Jaskier frowned and quickly looked down to hide a smile. It was true, most of the meticulous planning by him and his sisters prior to this visit had been to be as impolite as possible while still operating within the socially acceptable norms. Janina and her blood-tear mourning garb had been only the beginning of what would undoubtedly come to a head this evening.

Judging by the quiet snort beside him, he wasn’t quick enough. “Geralt,” he spoke up a few moments later.

“My lord?”

He grimaced slightly. “You probably shouldn’t call me that tonight. It would only… raise suspicion.”

The witcher frowned deeply. “And what should I call you then?”

“Julian,” he said simply. “That’s my name, you know.”

“I thought you resented that name.”

‘I do,’ he thought. “I mustn’t,” he answered and continued on into the dining hall. A large part of the nigh two hundred guests had already arrived and heated the room up nicely, in spite of the freezing temperatures outside. A plethora of voices filled his ears, the kind of pleasant buzz that usually promised an eager crowd Jaskier could sail upon. But he couldn't, so now the mix was irritating, fraying his nerves. And it smelt. Not quite enough to actually stink, but that would come soon enough with the fragrances mixing with sweat and food.

All of the sudden, Jaskier pitied Geralt. He knew the witcher had much finer senses than he did and if he was nearly overwhelmed-

A nigh unnoticeable touch at his elbow made him whip around. He stared directly at Geralt's face. "Are you alright?" the witcher asked quietly, concern etched onto every fibre of his body.

"Quite," Jaskier answered stiffly, letting his eyes sweep over the crowd until he spotted Ciri and Józefa at a table directly beneath the dais. “Let us join my lovely sister and cousin, shall we?” the Viscount announced with a bright smile frozen on his face as he crossed the threshold, a gentle hand on Geralt’s elbow to ensure he would follow.

There was no announcement, no herald making their arrival known, yet at least half a dozen heads turned their direction immediately. A hushed whisper spread through the ballroom with each of their footfalls, like ripples on a still lake during a rain shower that turned into a thunderstorm. A few moments passed, none of the attendants quite sure how to react—Julian Pankratz’ return had been surprising to all, disconcerting to most, and relieving to none.

Then: “Julian Pankratz!” a booming voice cut through the backdrop of murmurs, the crowd parting to let the speaker through. “I didn’t think you’d have the guts to show your face here.”

Jaskier’s lips curled into a true smile for but a moment when he recognised him. “Dawid,” he greeted his former friend, wincing slightly when he pounded on his shoulder, “I wouldn’t have if I had known you’d be here.”

The knight laughed at that, slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him along. After that it was as if a wall had broken down. The journey to their places was torturously slow, continuously interrupted by former friends and lovers, now married and introducing their heirs, enemies and strangers, who sought to curry favours, or just regular attendants who just wanted an excuse to gawk at him.

They had almost made it, the end of their table already in touching distance, when another petitioner approached. It was a young boy, a squire, Jaskier guessed, dressed in Goldfurt’s livery, who bowed deeply. “My lord, my lord Goldfurt sends his regrets for the unfortunate seating situation,” the boy said with a wavering voice. “I am to let you know that there unfortunately is not enough space to accommodate all of your family as well as your witcher.”

Jaskier did not have to look up at the half-empty dais to know it was a blatant lie. “Unfortunate indeed,” he replied curtly.

“However, his lordship asked me to inform you that you yourself are welcome to join him at the high table, as are the two maidens who share his blood. And that you may rest assured, my lord, the witcher will enjoy himself just fine where he is.”

"I thank you kindly," Jaskier answered primly. "If you would do me the favour of relaying a message to her ladyship, now? Tell my sister, what is good enough for my witcher is good enough for me. I do not wish to add any additional strain to our familial relationship than there already is with our presence, which is why I am sure I will enjoy the festivities just as well down here as up there."

The boy stared up at him with wide eyes. "Lady Goldfurt," impressed upon him again. "If possible, in the presence of Lady Kerton." He nodded hastily and disappeared.

When Jaskier turned around with a sigh he was met with Geralt's dark expression. "What?"

"Do you think it advisable-"

He waved his hand around tiredly, continuing his path to Józefa and Ciri. Fuck, he was exhausted already and the banquet hadn't even started yet. "Do not worry about my wisdom, Geralt, I know more about these affairs than you do."

"It's not your wisdom or intelligence I question, I know you have both aplenty. It's your foresight. I do not know you to be a patient man."

"And I am not, but luckily it is not of the essence in this case. I am aware we tread on unfamiliar territory for you, but I grew up here. I am well aware of how far I, Julian of Lettenhove, can go before truly insulting someone. Lucky for us both, it is much farther that either you, Geralt of Rivia, or I, Jaskier the bard, could hope to. If anything, it will reflect poorly on our host to deny me my designated place over such a petty squabble. It will earn us sympathies!"

"What will earn us sympathies?" Ciri's eager voice asked.

"The fact that you will have to make do with this entirely new place for you, cublet, that is not at the side of the host of such a lavish gathering,” Jaskier replied and bowed with a flourish, taking her hand to kiss her knuckles. She giggled. “Madam, what a joy it is to see you. Truly, you are the jewel that crowns this evening; your beauty outshines the rising sun after a moonless night.”

“Thank you, Lord Lettenhove,” she answered with a perfect curtsy, during which the skirts of her dress flared out. Lettenhove ochre, just like his doublet, he noticed, and her dark hair plaited in an updo that must have taken hours to complete. It left no doubts as to where she belonged. She glanced up at him with a malicious glint in her eyes. "Do you know the best part?" she whispered.

He leaned down to her. "Tell me."

"The skirts are so wide, I could still gut a man in it."

Jaskier blinked in surprise; it was the quiet chuckle form Geralt that got him to finally break into laughter. "And what a good thing that is," he assured her.

"Fiona," Józefa chided softly. "I told you not to say that in nice company."

“Of course, cousin,” Ciri replied with a mischievous grin, “I would never.”

"Thank you," he said, rolling his eyes and winked at Ciri. He couldn't stop the feeling of pride welling up within him, but at least he could stop himself from hugging her by approaching his sister and kissing her hand as well. "You, madam, are just as dazzling as our young cousin. I fear I shall be blinded after this night, surrounded by so much beauty."

Behind him he heard Geralt whisper to Ciri: "What answer?"

"I just insulted him politely," Ciri answered just as hushed, evidently very proud himself.

Józefa huffed and crossed her arms under her chest. She was wearing an expensive red robe with orange embroidery and primroses etched on the edge. "You are a woeful waffler, brother. But you look good, too. Nice and proper."

"Nice and proper indeed," Jaskier replied and straightened his impeccable doublet. "You think I can fool them into thinking I am just as much of a stuck-up prick as my father was and as they are?"

"Hmm," she hummed and cast a quick glance around. "I think you already have. Maybe yell at a few servants or refuse to speak to any of the ladies if the topic is not their beauty if you really want to drive the point home."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Working on it, sister dearest. I'm working on it." He clapped his hands and smiled brightly. "Well, let's get comfortable, shall we?" he chirped and pulled the chair back for his sister and Ciri in turn.

When he turned to Geralt and quirked a curious eyebrow when he still found him standing. The witcher looked back and forth between Jaskier and his two wards before shrugging. Geralt pulled back his seat with the mockery of a bow.

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Thank you, my friend," Jaskier said with a subtle touch to Geralt's shoulder as he sat down.

"You're welcome. Julian," he said, as if he was probing out the taste of the unfamiliar name in his lips. A moment later he grimaced, as if it was particularly disgusting.

Jaskier was almost about to tease him about him when the great doors opened and Lord Goldfurt walked in with Janina on his arm. His sister looked magnificent, if he dared say so himself. While she usually didn't indulge in the luxuries that her advantageous marriage granted her, Jaskier was sure that she was wearing the most luxurious dress she had donned since her wedding. It was in dark and subdued tones, almost dark enough to count as mourning, that screamed "Lettenhove" at the same time.

Jaskier smirked. It had been a brilliant idea on Justyna's part.

The unhappy pair stopped before the dais, Janina stone-faced and Filip with a smile that fooled no-one. "My dear friends," he greeted them, "I am overjoyed that I am able to greet all of you once again at the beginning of this new year. May it bring prosperity and health for all of us. Especially my estranged brother-in-law, Julian Pankratz who has finally ascended to his rightful place as Lord Lettenhove. It's an honour and a pleasure to finally host the famous Pankratz siblings again. A shame that you are missing one of your matching set. What do you say, Julian? A toast of the famous poet!"

Jaskier rose from his seat to the thundering applause and bowed exaggeratedly. Somehow, this was the most calming thing he had done in months. "Thank you, thank you," he placated. " I fear neither honour nor pleasure are the words our hosts usually describe us with." It roused a laugh from the crowd. "But, for the sake of this tradition, we will behave.

"I am thrilled, though I am entirely undeserving of the praise. Here's to my sisters, who are more beautiful than a bouquet of larkspurs. To the Count of Goldfurt, our gracious host. It is my utmost joy to finally be reunited with my family and my home. To Redania! And to his beautiful lady wife, my sister, Janina of Lettenhove."

He could practically feel the temperature drop in the hall as soon as he had uttered the last words, all eyes trained on Goldfurt to see how he might react. He practically didn't react at all, besides begrudgingly raising his goblet to his mouth and taking the tiniest of sips. "To home," he agreed reluctantly, "and my lady wife."

Janina, on the other hand, barely contained her grin and drank a big gulp. "To home," she said as well and the toast echoed through the hall, slowly reciprocated by all of the guests. The toasts were mixed with murmurs of confusion that died as soon as the food started to appear.

The banquet itself was a dreary affair as noble banquets often were, especially if the people at your table were of the quiet sort. And what was Geralt if not the quietest of them all?

Still, Jaskier delighted in pointing out the Counts, Barons and knights to Ciri. Between Józefa and himself they managed not only to call up old history lessons of their neighbours and their connections to Lettenhove, but also a fair share of gossip as the first course was served: fish. Oh, and what fish it was. Platters upon platters of smoked cod was passed in front of them, along with roast pike and fat carps in beer sauce, accompanied with little pastries of perch, trout, and salmon.

It was good. No, divine even. Not as good as Ana's cooking at home, but that was hard to beat. Apart from that it might be the best food he'd eaten in years.

"Did you know," Józefa stage-whispered and leaned over to him, "that three years ago Goldfurt's aunt was found in flagrante with Dergetten's elder sister?"

Jaskier gasped, pretending to be scandalised. "You're kidding. That old bag?"

"What's in flagrante?" Ciri wanted to know and Geralt choked on his food. "Jaskier, what's it mean?"

"Umm," he felt his cheeks grow hot. "You know what? Geralt will gladly explain that to you." The witcher shot him a mean glare that betrayed that, no, he absolutely would not. At this point he decided that it was best to change the topic. "Do you see that old knight over there?" he asked and discreetly pointed at the table across the dance floor from them. "He's supposed to be a dragon slayer."

Geralt snorted disbelievingly, and Jaskier shrugged. "Oh, we all know he's a liar. He's got the dragon's wings hanging in his hall, I've seen them. If you ask me, it's a bat he killed. And not even an especially large one."

Ciri giggled at that and Jaskier happily continued to dish out child-appropriate rumours as the next round of dishes for them to choose from was paraded around. It was poultry next, roast chickens, chicken pastries, scalloped chickens. But also, a dozen herons, little carrot-nests with fieldfares, and truffled capon. And all along the wine flowed freely. Est-Est was brought out by the barrel, as well as dry reds, sweet whites and even the odd sparkling wine in between. Normally, Jaskier would have indulged happily, but he had the feeling that he should keep a clear head for the evening. Besides, he had monitor Ciri's alcohol intake, who readily charmed the servants into slipping another sip into her watered-down wine.

They had just advanced to the main courses—fourteen suckling pigs, two dozen roast veal, eight whole boars, a handful of oxen, with thick gravy, cooked and fried and braised roots and an overabundance of cabbages. White cabbages, red cabbages, pickled cabbage, cabbage salad—oh, how he missed Toussaint in the winter—when some puffed-up peacock playing at being a poet swaggered onto the dance floor. Jaskier huffed and crossed his arms, pointedly ignoring Geralt's bemused stares. 'The bardlet isn't even good,' Jaskier noted and forced himself to stop listening, else he might work himself into a rage over the blatant display of negative talent, that's what it was—

Geralt relieved a servant of her pitcher to refill both their goblets. Upon seeing Jaskier's questioning expression he shrugged. "Might make it more bearable for both of us," he explained and nudged the cup towards him. "This night I won't suffer sober."

He laughed hoarsely and clinked their cups together before taking a large gulp. "To sobriety, then."

"To banquets," Geralt added and glanced over to Ciri, "and no more surprises."

"What are you two talking about?" she wanted to know.

"The last banquet we attended together," Jaskier answered, steadfastly trying to ignore how his heart hurt at the thought. "It's where... we met your mother."

"Oh." She perked up at that, although her eyes seemed to grow sadder. "Was it... was it similar?"

"No," Jaskier said, just as Geralt replied: "Yes."

They blinked at each other for a moment before looking away. Jaskier tried to ignore the curious look Ciri gave him before she was distracted by Józefa again, the gods bless her soul. He was sure the little princess wasn't listening anymore and he was even more sure that Geralt was well aware of it, when the witcher growled: "The music was better."

"Excuse me?" he squeaked. Quickly, he cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" he asked again

He leaned over to him and Jaskier eyed him warily. "The bard's shit," he hissed. "Can't even carry a simple tune."

Well. That wasn't untrue. But hearing it from Geralt made him nearly spit out his wine. "You think all bards are shit," he responded as soon as he had recovered from his coughing fit.

"Bull-fucking-shit," Geralt growled. "I like your singing well enough."

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You called my singing a fillingless pie."

He shrugged. "And I still think that's true. Tasty crust," he impaled a piece of pie on his fork, "no filling." He pointed his fork at Jaskier. "Pretty voice, empty lyrics."

"Oh, so you think I have a pretty voice?" the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Anything else about me that appeals to your artistic eye?"

"Hmm," Geralt answered and raked his eyes over Jaskier's body before quickly hiding his smile behind his goblet. Not quickly enough, though. His cheeks grew hot with the blush and he frowned darkly.

'Stop it,' he commanded himself. 'No use reading meanings into something where nothing's there.' He drained his water glass. He was is desperate need of a clear head, for he was quite aware that the heat coursing through his body was not merely caused by the many people getting drunk in the room.

At least he could distract himself with dessert being served: sweet pumpkin pies and baked, stuffed apples, red berry groats and oat biscuits with honey and cinnamon. Jaskier was quick enough to snatch the cup of mulled wine out of Ciri's hands, but could hardly protest the platter laden with all different kinds of sweets—not when his plate didn't look any different.

He passed the goblet he had just salvaged over to Geralt, who just scoffed. "Oh, now he's ripping off your songs," the witcher grumbled. "Ridiculous."

Jaskier sighed. "Let him." He knew there were enough impostors; he had stopped caring years ago.

"He's not even getting the lyrics right."

"I thought they were empty anyways," he remarked and popped a biscuit into his mouth.

"Not the point."

"Jaskier," Ciri interrupted them, "they're starting to dance."

He frowned as he saw Goldfurt leading Janina onto the dance floor to signify the end of the dinner. He sighed as he caught Lady Alina's eye on the other side of the hall. No doubt he would be expected to share at least one dance with his betrothed, for propriety's sake.

"I suppose you should join them, Julian," Geralt quipped and crossed his arms as they watched Justyna and Damian join them on the dance floor.

"I suppose I should."

"Well?"

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe later. For the moment, allow me to abuse your presence to hide from my duties." He watched his two sisters dance when another thought hit him: "Wait, how do you know that the lyrics are wrong?"

Jaskier could've sworn he saw a blush creep up Geralt's cheeks as the witcher grumbled something unintelligible and hid behind his tankard again.

"Geralt of Rivia," Jaskier gasped indignantly, "are you trying to tell me, you memorised my songs?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

“I—” Jaskier began, only to be interrupted by Józefa: “Julian,” she called his attention. “I believe you should honour the Lady Alina with a dance.”

“Fine,” he ground out and rose to his feet. “I believe I have to surrender you to my sister’s care for a while, so I fear our conversation will have to come to a close for the moment.”

“Pity,” the witcher grumbled and leaned back in his seat, obviously not finding it a pity at all.

Jaskier laughed as if he had just told a joke. “Do try to enjoy yourself, my friend.” He winked, though his heart sank. “I’ll be back.”

He wasn’t quite sure if he should be relieved or not to leave the witcher and his sour mood behind, though he was sure that his own mood grew worse with every step. Eyes and whispers clung to him all along the way, although he pretended not to hear.

He couldn’t deny them their right to gossip; they were landed gentry after all, what else were they supposed to do with their pitiable lives? He’d just prefer that gossip to be limited to him and not the newest two additions to his household.

He had been hesitant, at first, to bring both of them to Goldfurt. Truly the last thing on earth they needed was more attention on Lettenhove. But after some long talks with Józefa they had come to the conclusion that there were rumours anyways. Not bringing the two of them along would look even more conspicuous.

In the end, he wasn’t the one who found his betrothed, for she beat him to the chase. “Lord Lettenhove,” she called for his attention.

“Lady Alina,” he did little to mask his surprise. “You’re just the one I was looking for.”

“Were you now?” She raised her eyebrows. “No doubt for the same reasons as I do.”

“And which might those be?”

“To satisfy my brother’s demands that we socialise, of course,” she replied and raised her fan to hide her exaggerated yawn. “Is there not a question you should ask me?”

Jaskier bowed gracefully. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

“You may.” She barely even bothered with a curtsy before she let herself be led to the centre of the dance floor. The spent about half of the dance in icy silence, before Lady Alina finally spoke up: “So, are the rumours true then?”

“Rumours?” he feigned ignorance.

She snorted. “Do not insult me, Lettenhove. We both know that you are well aware what I am talking about.”

Of course, he knew. The whole society talked about nothing else but Fiona Nowak’s parents. There was a myriad of different stories where she came from and why she was in Lettenhove now, many of which he and Józefa had planted themselves. The most wide-spread, however, was the only one that he had actually tried to extinguish: “If you want to pretend, you’re more stupid than you actually are, fine. Let me be frank, my lord. Is young Miss Nowak your bastard daughter?”

He locked his jaw. “Those rumours are none that I encouraged,” he answered curtly.

“That does not answer my question.”

“And yet it is the only answer I will give on that matter,” he insisted. He had no wish to discuss the matter any further, so he was not quite sure what made him continue talking: “Though it is true that she is very dear to me, as is her safety. I would do anything to keep her safe.”

“How admirable,” she responded drily. “Though again, I would have thought the cleverness of your sisters runs in the family. I am disappointed to see that it doesn’t.”

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Ouch.’ Were he a man easily slighted, he would have taken offence. In reality, though, he was only impressed. “Are you well acquainted with them, my lady?”

“With some better than others. Did you know that I spent a few years in Nowigrad?”

He tensed up and she laughed.

“Of course, you did. You avoided the city like the plague back then.” Lady Alina smiled politely. “Well, Jolanta sends her regards.”

He frowned. She had never told him that she knew his former fiancée.

“She also lets you know that another friend of yours is growing restless with… this.” She made a vague gesture at the gossiping nobles around them.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I could not say, my lord, I am but the messenger.” The music stopped and she stepped back from him immediately. “I believe we have satisfied our duties. Good night, my lord.”

Even after leaving his fiancée in the arms of another, the dancing did not stop. Instead of his feet tracing patterns over the floor, his words took over as he found himself getting sucked deeper and deeper into the deadly dance of deception that was so popular with all nobles. Whenever he spun, trying to step off the dance floor of politics he found himself in the slippery grasp of yet another opponent. Chief among them, of course, were his sisters.

"Despicable old bag," Janina hissed, still eyeing the dowager Baroness he had rescued her from. "She's rotten to the bone."

"A Dergetten through and through," he agreed. "Józefa told me she’s the reason Lady Zibold came down with that horrible stomach sickness two years ago."

"Really, Julek?" She rolled her eyes. "You, churning the rumour mill?"

He shrugged. He had never claimed to be above these petty squabbles; he was landed gentry, after all, what else was he supposed to do with his pitiable life?

He spun away from her, soon to be embraced by another lady. All the while he danced, he could hear the rumours continue to spread like wildfire.

“Did you hear Lettenhove had the witcher bring his bastard to his keep?” he heard one nobleman whisper.

“She’s supposed to be the daughter of some whore,” another quipped.

“Don’t be a fool, Alma, she’s the Countess de Stael’s daughter; remember how she retreated to a temple for a few months a decade ago?”

“No, she has elf blood in her veins, it’s why he hid her.”

On and on the whispers went and Jaskier couldn’t help but roll his eyes at them. Not a single one of them got even close to the truth. He supposed he had to be grateful for that and he couldn’t resist the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw her. She was hand in hand with Daria, sweeping over the dance floor and disturbing this dancing couples in the process.

He spun a web of lies to evade a landed knight’s curious questions and found himself on the dancefloor again within the blink of an eye, Justyna in his arms.

"I am glad to see her so joyous," he said with a fond smile as Ciri and Daria swept past them again, nearly knocking Janina and Goldfurt over in the process. "Both of them." His smile widened even more when he saw her keeping her husband from reprimanding them. 'You can't hide from me, Janka,' he thought triumphantly, 'she's gotten to you just as much as to the rest of us.'

Justyna hummed her approval. "She's a sullen child, is she not? I feared she might faint during our first meeting."

Jaskier sighed. "She's been through a lot, Konwalia. She's seen so many bad things, worse than anything you or me can imagine, and she's just a child."

He stepped away to bow to her as she spun away from him. When he pulled her close again, she averted her gaze. "Maybe I didn't give you enough credit. Maybe you might be able to understand."

“Maybe I might be,” he agreed cautiously. “Where’s Julek, by the way? I don’t think I’ve seen him in hours.”

"He's— Miss Nina put him to bed. He was... not feeling well."

"He's a quiet boy."

"He is. Easily overwhelmed, too. He doesn't smile a lot either. He's a good boy, though," she assured him quickly.

"That I do not doubt," he said and smiled. She didn't return it. "Justyna?" Her gaze flickered away nervously as she tugged on her sleeve. It was a bad habit their father had beaten out of her even before he'd left. It worried him. “You—I am aware that you think me unable to comprehend your worries, and maybe you are right and I am. However, I hope that you would still confide in me after all these years. If there is anything short of murder and treason within my power to help you and yours, I will do it, without hesitation.”

She kept silent for a few more moments, looking uneasy. "It's Damian," she told him quietly. "He believes him a changeling."

He huffed disbelievingly. “A changeling?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “That’s what he settled for after accusing me of adultery first. He does not believe that a son of his could be this—”

“Inadequate?” Jaskier offered, well-acquainted with that particular paternal sentiment.

“He is not what he wants his son to be. Not courageous, not knightly enough, while Daria is—not enough of a boy to be precisely that.”

“And isn’t that a familiar tune?” Jaskier sighed quietly. “I am sorry your son takes this much after his namesake.”

“I am not.” She raised her chin defiantly. “For I love his namesake, just as I love my son.”

“I am glad to hear that.” The song ended and they both took a step backwards. Jaskier reached down and gently lifted her knuckles to his lips. “Worry not, my lady. For the time being, you are guests in Lettenhove, protected by my castle peace. And I happen to be quite fond of cowards, monsters, and inadequate children.”

Her expression softened. “I know you are. Thank you, Jaskier.”

He squeezed her hand briefly, before excusing himself, in desperate need of a drink—and a conversation with a certain witcher, he believed. The ballroom floor was as dangerous a terrain as it had been the whole evening, but Jaskier deftly dodged those who threatened to converse with him before collapsing in the chair next to Geralt. "Finally," he sighed and gladly took the goblet his witcher handed him.

“Did you have fun, Julian?” Geralt asked him and Jaskier raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“Did I look like I was having fun?” he countered.

“I am sure there was quite a number of attendants you managed to fool.” The unspoken ‘but not me’ hang heavy in the air between them and for a moment he allowed himself to bask in the familiarity of that. Jaskier closed his eyes, the noise and smell and lights draining away with every heartbeat until he could pretend it was just the two of them in a lonely clearing, sharing a skin of sour wine. Just them, just friends, just a witcher and his bard.

The illusion was sundered all too soon by a voice they had suffered all too long for one evening already. "Good sirs, might I persuade you to make a request?” Jaskier opened his eyes again and found himself staring into the young and bright-eyed face of a bard whose hopes and dreams were surely about to be crushed. The boy smiled widely and bowed. “Along with a bit of constructive criticism, mayhaps?"

Jaskier exchanged a quick glance with Geralt and, slowly and deliberately, set down his goblet as he waited for the answer he knew would come: "You changed the lyrics," Geralt stated, "not for the better."

"And how would you know?" the bardling asked with too much enthusiasm and tilted his head to the side. He gave them both a thorough look before gasping with excitement. "Oh, I know who you are! You're the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. And you-" He turned to Jaskier and his eyes grew wide. "Master Jaskier!" He bowed deeply. "It's an honour to meet you, truly it is. I have studied all of your work, sir, I am one of your greatest admirers."

He did his best to hide his pained expression with a smile. "I fear I do not go by that name anymore. I am old and weary; it is time for the new generation to get a chance. Viscount Lettenhove, if you please."

“Of course, my lord. And, if I may be so bold: wise words, wise words indeed,” the bard preened, too caught up in his speech to notice Geralt’s elbow landing in Jaskier’s ribcage or the wheeze that escaped him at that. "Might I humbly request a piece of advice of you? It would honour me greatly, no matter—”

"You may," he interrupted him and shot a glance at Geralt. "Stop singing other people's songs."

"But-"

"Don't interrupt him," Geralt growled.

“Thank you, my witcher,” Jaskier said and twirled his goblet in his hand. “See, young man, here’s the issue: you may be a bard, might even call yourself a strolling minstrel, and yet you are living off another’s hard work. I do not begrudge you for it; repeating songs you have heard certainly is a way to make your living. Mind you, however, that a poet, a troubadour, a veritable minstrel is, first and foremost, an artist.”

“But—” the bardling laughed nervously. “But I do not paint pictures.”

“Evidently,” Geralt grumbled just as Jaskier asked: “Don’t you?” He sighed and took a sip. “I certainly did. My experiences were my canvas, my emotions my paints, my aching heart my brush. Which is why I cannot sing the songs of another. How can you aspire to give a true performance, pour your heart and soul into it, if you don't even know what you're singing? You're still young, so go out into the world while you still have the chance. See if you don't find something that's worth singing about."

"How will I know that I have found such a thing?"

"Oh,” he stared into his goblet, “you will."

"But what is it? Will my heart stop when I spot it? Will—Will I lay my life on the line for it? Is it something worth dying for?"

"No," Jaskier said softly, "your life will stop, that much is true; but it isn't something that ends so much as something that begins. You will know when you have found something worth singing about, when you find something worth living for."

Next to him, his witcher choked on his wine.

#my writing #of witchers bards and broken hearts #OWBABH #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #cirilla of cintra

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tokimihyachi · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Boy

Happiest Birthday to Clover Kingdom’s very own, William Vangeance! to celebrate his birthday, here’s a drawing— a rushed one, and another special one shot to commemorate such lovely day.

Pairing: William Vangeance x OC

Warnings: None.

24th December. Other than this day being Christmas, it was not much of a special date to one eccentric man in Clover Kingdom. William Vangeance, bare-faced, stood up from the silk sheets of his bed and rubbed his eyes to welcome the day before him, light from his balcony (he has one here, so shush.) casting light upon his face.

Stretching as he stood up, he neatly folded the used quilts and placed the pillows to where they were situated before he slept on them last night, before walking towards the windowsill and opening it, as a flock of various kinds of birds swarmed him like the Snow White that he is.

The sounds of the birds chirping was music to his ears, but to someone else, it was rather a nuiscance.

‘You’ve been doing that for years, William. Grow up will you?’ Patri sneered. The elf did not dislike birds, actually, he’s used to seeing and hearing them chirp every morning since before, he liked to hide in the shade of the tree where many birds live, but to be accustomed with William’s company is another thing.

‘Is that how you should greet me today, Patri?’ the boy with eyes as gold as the sun scoffed.

'I’m sorry. Happy birthday, my friend.’ Vangeance smiled at his friend’s acknowledgement. Carefully placing the newborn bird back in its nest using his World Tree Magic to extend the branched of the tree, he bids his other friends a good day before heading towards the bathroom to freshen up before breakfast.

— — — — — —

Despite reminding them countless of times, members of the Golden Dawn continued to pursue their plans to surprise their captain and greet him a happy birthday. William smiled at them as Letoile lit the birthday cake’s candles up and Alecdora took it from her hands, bringing it closer to his captain.

Hearing them sing the melodous song one chants during birthday celebrations was more than enough to the masked man as his day of birth has never been celebrated before. Considered to be a cursed child, her parents, particularly his Mother, considered December 24th as an ill-fated day he was given to them.

Unlike kids his age, he never received a cake that was decorated with sweet frosting. Never been greeted— locked even most of the time, and never had a friend who would voluntarily give him a present.

He was given a gift once by the kids he used to play with, but when he opened it, it was filled with powder that catapulted to his face.

“You should keep that powder on your face. That way it’ll hide that hideous scare of yours!”

"Why were you even born into this world, you monster!”

“He’s probably the reason why his own father died. Cursed being.”

For years those memories alone haunted him, which is why Julius and Yami had a hard time trying to find a perfect gift to him. In the end though, they treated him to dinner and sometimes agreed to do whatever activity he wanted to for the day.

Yami didn’t like his choices. They were total opposites that got along after all, but William rarely opens up much about his own self so he begrudgingly obliged, as long as there was free food at the end of the day.

‘Truly, I am blessed.’ The purple-eyed man thought as he blew the candles on his cake and the Golden Dawn clapped in cheer. Seconds later, they formed a line while bringing out their individual gifts for him. He warned them several times before that it would only be a hassle if they bought him gifts as there was still a party during the afternoon, but the stubborn girl one of them is, she pushed through with every festivity yearly.

Speaking of, where is she? William’s eyes wander the room, trying to search for the a pair of eyes redder than any rose he’s seen before, but alas he could not find her. ‘Has she, perhaps… forgotten my birthday?’ A pang of an unknown feeling went through his chest like a spear directly piercing his heart as the thought was processed by his mind.

Alecdora notices the unease of his beloved captain’s presence, so he opted to speak up, “Captain Vangeance. If I may, Lady Artemis is still sleeping…” he trailed off, failing to stitch more words together as William stood up from his chair to excuse himself, claiming that he must fetch and reprimand the sleeping woman.

The Golden Dawn shared knowing looks at one another, chuckling lightly afterwards as they were observant enough to know what was about to happen. William cautiously knocked at the door for a good couple of minutes before deciding to walk inside, scared that she might actually be in danger as he could not sense her mana at all.

“Artemis?” he called out. His voice laced in fear anxiousness more than he could ever imagine.

He expected two things or scenarios to play out when he turned the know of her door. One, she was either peacefully in deep slumber, the kind of sleep where her mana almost feels like it disappears completely or Two, she would be there on the floor, struggling for her life. But upon entering the room he stopped, seeing both of the imaginative situations he made were not in front of him.

Instead, there stood Artemis who clearly smelled like she took a bath, with both of her arms open and awaiting him to come forth as if she anticipated that he would walk through the door. The masked man gave her a confused look making the woman sigh and bring her hands down.

“What are you doing, Artemis?” William asked that further vexed the green-haired mage.

“Well,” she began, walking towards her captain slowly, giving the masked man a chance to see how alluring she looked under the touch of the sun early in the morning— her eyes burning brighter than any fire, her skin more supple and radiant than any sky, and her lips… tempting and soft, its presence even more so overwhelming than the usual.

“My gift isn’t exactly finished yet so I’m giving the next best thing.” as their eyes finally locked, Artemis’ gaze landing on his ear that were decorated in a light shade of pink making William cough to divert her attention, “And that is?” he inquired.

The woman rolls her eyes opening both of her arms again, “A hug! Now, come here you big baby!” chuckling at her little patience, probably because she waited longer than he thought, William gladly mirrors her gesture and wraps his arms around her figure.

In the darkness of his life, her cuddles feel like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. William could only wish that he could extend or perhaps stop time just so he could stay close to her longer, safe in her embrace. Artemis’ arms wrapped right around him brought a peace he’d never known before, calming of the storms in his heart.

The hug was a simple enough gesture - affection, perhaps the fragile beginnings of love. The arms that held him were soft, yet strong. The feel of her body so close to his soothed him more than he had expected. But within seconds she pulled away, his mind swam not with the heady excitement of a new relationship but with thoughts of why his heart was thumping loudly against his chest.

Her presence, more ominous than the usual. Was it because of the war nearing them? He could only guess. ‘You mean you can only deny?’ Dismissing the thoughts of his friend, Artemis took her captain’s wrist and pulled him outside her room, locking it afterwards and giving him a smile.

“There’s still a party ongoing below right? Not to mention one tonight with the captains so let’s go, Willy!” she yelled as they ran through the corridors. The masked man’s eyes dart on her hands holding his wrist and he had to bite his inner lip to prevent himself from making any noise. ‘What is it with this feeling?’

How he wanted to just grab her hand and intertwine her dainty fingers like that of a porcelain doll with his own, but he was not selfish and shamless. Artemis is a fine woman with class and exuding much elegance. She’s kind, selfless, thoughtful, exceedingly beautiful, and above all else, she’s smart. ‘and dense. Don’t forget clumsy as well.’

He could not risk such ripe and fruitful future ahead of her if he consticted her in any relationship with him other than being good friends that relied and trusted one another even if their lives depended on the situation, but he’s considered it— many times, and wondered what if he had the courage to speak his mind.

Alas he told himself not to. Both of them were healthy, given that, they still had plenty of years in front of them. So the possible lifetime they might share can wait, if it means he can treasure her longer and build up the willpower to face whatever consequence confessing might bring.

‘Wait, does this mean… I like her? Romantically?’ he shook his head. After years of denying was he about to accept and let these feelings consume him? Perhaps this was enough for now as he had other priorities to face. Yet in a few days these very thoughts would betray him, but how wrong he was to have not grabbed such golden oppurtune while it was still within his reach.

Complacency was never a good thing. And William Vangenace would soon know of this.

#black clover #william vangeance #one shot #bc #golden dawn #oc

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peachyteabuck · 7 years ago

Text

the fifth date

summary: the story of how you met your alpha

pairing: alpha!bucky x omega!reader. non-avenger!au

words: 1870

trigger warnings: some mentions of a divorce, shitty childhood/boyfriend, etc. they watch ahs and there’s some mention of murder bc of it but it’s not super descriptive, mentions of some nsfw stuff

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The minute Bucky met you on your first date, he knew you were the one. It was a blind one, set up by your mutual friend.

Bucky thought he was just an excuse to get him out of the house, but no. It ended being the best thing that ever happened him.

The way you laughed, the way you bit your lip, the way you asked him about his day, the way you crinkled your eyes when you smiled. You were perfect, still are. The perfect mate, the perfect life partner, the perfect lover.

The next day, he started nesting in preparation.

“Stevie, I swear. I know she’s the one!” he told his best friend while buying almost a truckload of blankets and pillows at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

“Whatever you say, Buck” Steve told him as he struggled to close the trunk of the car.

When they reached his apartment and piled all the plastic-covered bedding in the living room, he shooed Steve out. He’s an alpha, this is his job and his alone.

When he mother told him about the process of courting his father, he knew it was something special. The process of nesting, the buying and making and killing of gifts, the scenting the first time they mated. It’s such a beautiful, sacred ritual, Bucky knew he had to do it perfectly for you.

“Whoever you choose,” She told him. “Know that it isn’t just about making you feel good, it’s about building a strong foundation to a lifelong commitment.”

Bucky always listened to his mother, but this he held especially near to his heart.

On your second date, Bucky brought you cupcakes from your favorite bakery. You ate them together on your couch and introduced Bucky to your favorite TV shows.

You had a really hard day at work, and when you tried to cancel the fancy dinner date Bucky had planned for you, he refused.

If you wanted to sit a home in fuzzy socks, leggings, and a comfortable sweatshirt, then that’s what you were gonna do. The only condition is that you had to do it with Bucky.

“I feel like this is a shitty second date,” you told him while liking some stray frosting off of your finger.Your legs were draped over his, your back supported by a few pillows. All Bucky wanted to do was lay there, inhaling your scent. But you needed something to keep your mind off of one of the worst days of your career, and reruns of Dr. Phil sure as hell weren’t gonna do it.

“Nonsense,” he said, wiping a smudge of cupcake from the side of your mouth. Heat rushed to your face at the intimate contact. “This is the perfect second date.”

You laughed a little, eyes glued to the screen across the room. “And why is that?”

Bucky smiled down at you, using his metal hand to turn your face to him. He knew what you were doing, trying to avoid eye contact because you were scared of...well, actually, you weren’t sure what you were scared of. All you knew was that you were absolutely petrified. “Because I get to spend time with you.”

All you could do hide the warm feeling in your face, you and him laughing at the woman who had hidden not one, but two pregnancies from her overbearing in-laws. You fell asleep soon after, with you head on Bucky’s lap. He readjusted you so that you were on top of him, and rubbed your back while you slept off the day.

On your third date, Bucky basically asks you to mate with him. Kind of. Maybe.

“Do you wanna come back to my place?” he asked on your way home from dancing. That’s when you realized you had never seen it. Ever. You’d heard stories, heard him talk about his home. His large bachelor bad which he kept impeccably decorated for work. You were dying to see it, but you worried it was too early. He fell asleep at your apartment three days ago, why did you care so much about traditional timing.

“Mmm,” you say, genuinely thinking it over. “Depends on what you want to do after.”

He grabbed your hips, pulling your close to him on the street corner. It was surprising, but not unwelcome. The night air nipped at your sweaty, exposed skin and made you shiver. You leaned into him, watching the traffic go by.

“Anything you want, darling” he whispered into your ear. This, too, sent goosebumps all over your body.

You pushed him away. Lightly, playfully. A shove to let him know he needed to wait a little longer. Not a “never,” but a “not yet.”

Instead, you find some fast food place and eat your weight in french fries while you fight about the best tropical fruit. Bucky had argued pineapple, you chose mango.

At first is was friendly competition, but then it got heated. Now you were playing to win.

“I’ll kiss you if you agree with me,” You offered, munching in the last fry.

“Deal,” Bucky said, leaning over the couch for his smooch. It was your first kiss, but it felt like you had known his lips forever. It was beautifully and wonderfully cliche.

The day of your fourth date, you fell ill with a nasty cold. Your throat felt like a broken garbage disposal, your nose was running, your stomach hurt. You felt like the word “ugh.”

First you called out of work. Then you texted Bucky in an effort to cancel your date.

But, yet again, he wouldn’t let you. He texted back he’d be at your place with the perfect care package and that he was determined to take care of you.

You texted back he was being dramatic - it’s a cold, not pneumonia - and fell back asleep.

He showed up less than an hour later, knocking on your door with soup, Gatorade, ginger ale, and every season of American Horror Story.

Three pieces of toast and half the soup later, you’re cuddled under a thin blanket - the same one as last time, soaking up his warmth and comforting smell.

Occasionally, you’d use the cold of his metal arm to cool your forehead down. You weren’t running a big fever, you maybe were at 99 degrees, but it still felt really good.

“This is nice,” you murmured.

“Yeah.” he agreed, noticing your sleepiness. He turned the show down just as someone was being gutted, wanting to make sure you were able to get the rest you needed. You were cuddled in his chest, surrounded by him.

You felt safe with him wrapped around you, just like a good alpha should make you feel. After a short nap and two more characters brutally murdered, you start having deep conversations.

It started with him asking you met Steve and how you trusted him enough to set you up with his greasy, but adorable, best friend.

Bucky talked about how he lost his arm, how his prosthetic is one of kind. How he’s a lab rat, how it was the the only thing that got him out of losing his arm.

You talk about your childhood and how shitty it was. How you ended up with a shitty boyfriend in college who made you feel like shit all of time before you got up the courage to leave him two years after he asked you out.

“My old boyfriend never did this type of stuff with me.” you admitted. “He only liked to do stuff when he knew people he knew would be around. It’s like he needed someone else to get him through our dates.”

“Sounds like a real dick,” Bucky said. He traced the indents the blankets on your skin. He could stay right here forever, never moving again.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He was. Almost made me swear off alphas forever.”

Bucky smiles, wide and toothy. “Glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you joke. “Or else I wouldn’t have met the total hunk I’m cheating on you with…”

Bucky laughs, him lighting pushing you away in faux-disgust. “How could you!? Is it Steve, tell me it’s not Steve!”

It’s your turn to laugh, the deep cackles soon turning into coughs. You recover quickly, though, smile plastered on your face. This one’s a keeper.

You have your fifth date a few weeks after you feel better, both of your crazy work schedules preventing you from seeing each other sooner.

He takes you to an aquarium, and you both watch the sea turtles gliding through the water. It’s so beautiful, you’re both breathless from wonder.

After, he takes you to home. To his home, you mean. Or apartment. It doesn’t matter. It’s his.

He offers you a drink, which you gladly take. While he makes it, you take a look around. You admire the art, the beautiful decorating, the gorgeous marble countertops.

He gives you a tour, showing you around the kitchen, then the living room, then his office, then he bedroom.

The minute you step into it, you almost start crying. The large bed, the thick blankets, the distinct scent, the displaced furniture showing he had shoved his bed into the corner farthest from the door. All the signs were there.

“You started nesting,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes. The space is filled with Bucky, and it instantly makes you feel at peace, just like a good mate should. You feel so calm and happy and...is this what if feels like? To be in love? If so, you never want to let Bucky out of your sight. Ever.

“Yeah,” Bucky comes behind you, holding your back to his chest. “Knew we were gonna be mates the moment I first saw you, the night of our first date. Knew I wanted to be with you forever, and ever. Wanted to mark you. Wanted to be yours. Wanted to knot you real good. Wanted to make sure not a single shitty alpha ever touched you again.”

His brings his arms around you waist, talking lowly into your ear. “Then I heard about your awful boyfriend. About your parents bitter divorce. The custody battle. Knew you needed some lovin’, needed someone to show you how beautiful you are.”

He’s releasing calming pheromones, you can tell. It runs through you, sticks in your blood. The last few weeks have been hard, on both of you. This, whatever this is, is exactly what you need.

The pheromones release your tense muscles and give you a moment to forget the shittiness of everything.

He kisses your neck and you whimper. You got to grip his hips behind you and he rubs between your thighs.

“Eager, are we?” Bucky asks, his baritone voice sends shockwaves through your spine. It’s amazing, like a drug.

“Yes,” you moan. Your skin is on fire and it feels so fucking good.

He sets you down on the bed, pulling your clothes off. Your body is flush against the pillows and you feel so exposed. Normally, you’d be uncomfortable, but you trust Bucky. Trust him a lot. Trust him with everything.

“Then let’s get started, my beautiful little omega.”

You moan again. “Let’s, wonderful alpha. Let’s.”

#bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #Sebastian stan #barnes #marvel fanfic #lukis writes stuff #bucky barnes fanfiction

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wolfy58 · 4 years ago

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1827 April Friday 27

6 55/60 11 25/60 my bowels only very tolerable – at my desk at 7 50/60 – all impatience to read M- Mariana’s letter, but knowing the ill consequece of delaying my jounal determined to do that 1st (first) – wrote the last 4 lines of the last p. page), and so far of this, and had done at 8 1/2 - now for M- Mariana’s letter – from 8 1/2 to 11 20/60 read M- Mariana’s 3 pp, (pages) and the ends, and wrote the latter 1/4 p. (page) 2, and p. (page) 3 and the ends and under the seal and finished my letter to M- (Mariana) begun this Day-week – then read over the whole of my letter and sent it off at 11 40/60 to ‘Mrs. Lawton Lawton hall Lawton Cheshire Angleterre (postpayé)’ – from 11 40/60 to 12 1/4 read the paper – then breakfast – from 12 55/60 to 1 1/4 read the part of the yestterday’s paper I did not read yesterday – at my desk at 1 20/60 – vide M- Mariana’s letter bottom of p. (page) 1, top of p. (page) 2. terms of keeping a boy at Eaton on the foundation the most authentic information seems to be from Miss Hexton who keeps a Dame’s house at Eaton. ‘Dame 10.10.0. washing if 3 shirts a week 3.3.0 mending 1.1.0 Shoes cleaned and attendence 2.2.0 Candles 2.10.0. Tutor 10.10.0. master 3.3.0. making in all 32.13.6’ – Mr. Charles L- (Lawton) likely to sell the next presentation of the living – ‘now tho’ it is between 4 and 5 hundered a year yet as Mr. John Lawton is only 56, it will not ‘sell for much – perhaps a thousand pounds might buy it’ – if vacant before the boy should be old enough to take it, many would gladly take the living and pay the interest of the purchase money till the boy was old enough – said this plan did not take with me at all – 5 per cent interest or £50 per annum must be paid for the money from the time of purchase during the present incumbents life, and this now that money was so scarce and education, as it were, to begin, was a serious business – If the boy was steady and industious he might do better for himself, supposing him only to have moderate abilities – Besides I should not wish to purchase in that quarter – after all, if the boy was mine, I would send him to Eaton, because it seemed to me, his chance would be better there than anywhere else, for the money spent – further proof of Willoughby Crewes being in love with her say‘my confidence in you is unbou nded but I am more restless than ever I see too well his hopes are jostling against mine and must sink the spell he dreams not of’ bid her not fancy London or any place will produce forgetfulness of a growing regard rooted in esteem he is the last man in the world to marry ‘now the murder is out remember now thát he knows that you know it you ought to be doubly

‘causious were I in his place I should calculate all the chances in my favour and how ever much my saying so ‘may surprise you he has apparently some right to build up on the future’ ( bid her not mind it now it is done but I am half sorry you gave him the papers (her marriage settlement and the bond I gave her for two hundred pounds) to take care of - Little Emma Crewe dead – say I have given up all thought of Switzerland – not only when it came to the point I had not like to leave my aunt my heart refused to go did not like the being so thrown upon my companions tho' o[?]ne or both had been with me on all my little xcursions and I had had no reason to re gret it yet still almost envied π (Mariana) s being as Willoughby Crewe observed in a desert as far as feeling was concer ned say I am not unhappy but unsettled my mind is intent on one object my heart is not here it is with π (Mariana) should anything happen to my aunt will never mind d (Charles Lawton) but go to Lawton and π (Mariana) may then prepare me a room as soon as she likes π (Mariana) says she did not give me so much credit on parting at Boulogne as I aimed at say what ever she gave me was probably ever more than I deserved never was les philosophical - my letter not glowing but gravely and deeply affectionate this and the mention of Mr. Crewe make it unfit for public gaze - She seems to have understood my aunt to be worse than she is – I merely meant to say, she might eventually be dropsical – no sign of dropsy as yet – for these last 2 days a little tendency to spasms in her chest – she is very uncertain – Sir George Prevost and his sister coming here for a fortnight – Miss Pattison thought M- (Mariana) had better give her a letter to me – M- (Mariana) said she had promised not to subject me to ‘promiscuous introductions’ – said she was right, but at the same time I should be glad to do anything in my power for any friend of Miss P- Pattison’s my remembrances and tell her so – somehow I had no inclination for society, nor did I think I should till ……. meaning till π (Mariana) was with me I had not called on Madame Droz since just before leaving rue Mondovi – she confined to her sofa – in a family way – I liked her, but somehow had no inclination to see her – much better in health, and looking again much as usual – Glad that M- (Mariana) has received benefit from the shower-bath – ‘Is it wise do you think to set one’s whole mind so entirely one object?’ ‘yes! in one, we may not be disappointed – in many we are almost sure to be so – we ‘want but one staff to rest upon – that one destroyed, I have little in finding another in this world’ – from 1 20/60 to 2 20/60 wrote all but the 2 first lines of today – from 2 20/60 to 5 1/2 read over the whole of Passalacqua’s preface and catalogue partio, and his account of the 4 overwhelmed by the rubbish of a pit he was excavated – they were got out as if by miracle p. (page) 212 – 220. – then read the Introduction Historique page 113 – 116. And wrote the last 2 lines which took me till 5 50/60 – finished dressing – went out at 6 1/2 – walked direct to the barrière de l’Etoile – got back at 7 25/60 – dinner at 7 1/2 - left the diningroom at 9 40/60 – came to my room settled with George, and my accounts – went into the drawingroom at

low, left margin: F 44 at 7 1/2 a.m. 56 1/2 at 1 p.m.

bottom, left margin: fine morning

#anne lister #Paris 1827 #Mrs Barlow #Mariana

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betweensceneswriter · 7 years ago

Text

Second Wife-Chapter 7 : Never Forgotten

Second Wife Table of Contents

Second Wife on AO3

Previously - Chapter 6 : The Curse of Eve Lucky Jamie—he lives in a home with three women.

“I remember the first time I saw you, James Fraser, coming through the gates at Leoch. I was only seven years old, still a child. Ye didn’t notice back then how my heart leapt when you were near. You went away, all those years? I never forgot you” (The Reckoning, Outlander Season 102, Episode 1).

Jamie had shooed her off to bathe, and now Laoghaire was clean and warm, cuddled in her long nightdress, wrapped in a knitted shawl, stockinged feet propped on the hearth. This day had been especially hard for her. Something about Marsali beginning her courses triggered a despondent cascade of memories. She had been remembering and weeping all day long. When she was Marsali’s age, becoming a woman had been exciting to her. Here she was, living in Balriggan, with James Fraser as her husband. Wasn’t that what she had dreamed of all those years ago?

☆☆☆☆☆

She had been helping her grandmother in the kitchen when excited voices declared that the war chief’s party had returned to Leoch. Mrs. Fitz had bustled out of the kitchen to greet them, pulling her cap more firmly on her head for her trip out into the rainy courtyard.

“Dougal’s party is back?” Laoghaire attempted to ask the kitchen maids rushing by her. “I had thought they weren’t to return until the Gathering.” No one listened to her—they were hurrying to the windows to see which of the raiding party had returned, hoping that none of the men had been lost in the skirmishes, either with the Redcoats or the Watch.

“Who is that braw fellow with the hair like flames?” asked one of the girls. “Begorry, he’s a handsome devil, but he could do wi’ a wash.”

“I’ll help him wash, gladly!” jested one of the lassies of marriageable age, which elicited a bunch of knowing giggles from the other girls.

“I do believe that’s Jamie Fraser,” said one of the older women, the ones who had been working in the kitchen much longer, and therefore felt that they had a right to order the younger ones, such as Laoghaire, to do the things they felt beneath him. “I also see his godfather Murtagh in the party. I wouldna expected to see that lad here again. There’s a price on his head, ya ken.”

At the name, Laoghaire’s heart had dropped into her feet, and she worked even harder to press her way to the front of the group jostling for a view at the window. Jamie Fraser. When the lad had been about fourteen he had spent a year fostering with his uncle Dougal, and as a seven year old, she had been smitten with him immediately. He was tall, and muscular, big for his age even back then. He was a fierce combatant with the sword and dirk, and she would loiter at the edges of the practice field to see if she could catch a glimpse of him.

Not that he really noticed her, though one afternoon he had pulled her thick blonde braid in passing, and another time he remarked to the other lads he was with, “Aye, watch out for this one. When she grows up, she’ll be the bonniest lass at Leoch.”

Pressing to the window, Laoghaire could see him in the courtyard. Many of the other men had left their mounts immediately, but James Fraser was taking the time to care for his, gently removing his gear with some slight hesitation, his attention split between his horse and Mrs. Fitz, who had greeted most of the men and was now standing and talking to a bedraggled woman who appeared to be wearing a dirty torn shift that may have once been white.

Jamie was moving awkwardly and slowly, and when Laoghaire peered more closely, she could see that his right hand was bound to his chest with a belt, and what appeared to be a bandage was tied from his shoulder to his ribcage. There was blood on his face, as well, and his hair hung in wet clumps.

Laoghaire was pushed out of the way, and when she got back to the window, her grandmother, Jamie, and the woman in white were all gone. Her heart was pounding, and she raised her hands to her cheeks. She could feel herself flushing. Eight years ago, it had been. And at that time, a fourteen-year-old had little in common with a seven-year-old, especially when the fourteen-year-old was a boy and the seven-year-old was a girl. But at twenty-two and fifteen it was different; people often married who had more of an age spread than that.

Her grandmother’s cheery, loud voice preceded Mrs. Fitz’s return to the kitchen.

“I need some comfrey, some witch hazel, and some willow bark tea,” she announced. Laoghaire was quick to rush to her grandmother’s side.

“Willow bark tea? Is someone hurt?” Laoghaire asked.

“Young Jamie took a bullet to the shoulder, and the Sassenach woman, Mistress Beauchamp, is going to clean and dress it.”

“But you’re the healer here at Leoch, Gran,” Laoghaire responded in confusion.

“Well, I mayna need to continue, if Mistress Beauchamp has as much trainin’ as she seems to.”

Saffron MacKenzie had pulled together the requested items on a tray.

“May I take the things to the room where she’s tendin’ Jamie?” Laoghaire asked. She could nearly hear her heart pounding in her ears at the thought of seeing Jamie again.

“Thank you lass, but I can do it,” said Mrs. Fitz. “Yer Da is expectin’ ye home soon, anyway. He’ll need you to tend the animals and help wi’ the younger children. We do have dinner in the great hall tonight, so ye willna need to cook, unless ye are low on bannocks for breakfast.”

Laoghaire felt desperate to stay, but she also knew that if she wasn’t home right on time, Da would be angry. He didn’t trust her, now that she filled out her corset and that many eyes, those of boys and men alike, stared at her as she walked past. She’d never felt so conspicuous and she didn’t always like it, but she could tolerate the unwanted attention if it meant that Jamie Fraser would notice the ways she had matured as well.

Laoghaire wrapped her cloak around herself and strode off across the courtyard to the stable to retrieve Branaugh. At least she didn't have to walk to the village in this weather. She would have been soaked and had mud all over her skirts if she had to walk. It wouldn't even be worth it to go home.

She wished her Da would just let her live at the castle. He always insisted that she needed to be at home in her bed every night. All the other kitchen girls got to stay in small rooms in the servants’ wings, and they could be up until late in the hall, not having to rush home before the evening was done.

When Laoghaire reached the village, she dismounted. Branaugh didn't like walking on the cobblestones, so she needed to lead him through the walkways. Somehow he seemed calmer if she was in front of him instead of riding on his back.

She was nearly at her house when a dark, shadowy form leapt out from between the buildings and grabbed her about the waist, causing her to drop Branaugh’s lead.

"Hugh!" She exclaimed in irritation. "Why are you always trying to startle me?"

"Because ye flush when ye're frightened, and ye look so bonny when yer cheeks are pink!"

Laoghaire looked over at the fallen lead, but didn't pick it up. Branaugh was such a gentle mount that he would just stand until she was ready to go.

Hugh MacKenzie was 19. He had been trying to get Laoghaire to promise to marry him for the last year, but she just couldn't agree to it. He seemed a nice enough lad, but he was fat. Well, not fat, exactly, but very beefy and soft around the middle. He had taken ill with the chicken pox when he was a wee lad, and though he recovered from the illness, he was quite pockmarked with scars from the infection. So between his body, his greasy hair, and his scars, Laoghaire just wasn't ready to commit to him.

However, she wasn't rude enough to deny him every comfort. She looked up at him and took a step back into the shadows. He mirrored her with a step forward, then pressed his body gently against hers until her back hit the wall and she could go no further. He bent his face to hers and kissed her on the lips. It was nice, kissing. For a moment, she pretended she was kissing Jamie Fraser.

“O Ghiall, Laoghaire!" Hugh exclaimed, as he removed his lips from hers for a moment, then he bent to his work for a few more seconds. "Have you changed yer mind about getting’ marrit? I dinna ken what's gotten into you!"

If he would just stop talking it would work better, Laoghaire thought. She felt a sudden urge to allow more to happen, and Hugh must have felt the same thing at the same time, because he drew his hand upward and let his fingers rest on her bosom, right above the fabric of her shift.

Oh, it felt good. Laoghaire felt her breath catch in her throat. She closed her eyes, imagining it was the big red-haired Scotsman with one hand entwined in the curls at the back of her neck and the other enthusiastically trying to worm its way down into her tight corset. "Oh, Jamie," she felt herself whisper.

"Jamie?" Hugh exclaimed in disgust. "Ye ken it's Hugh! Who is Jamie?"

"Laoghaire?" another exclamation followed instantly afterward, in a gruff, masculine voice. "Ye wanton wee whore!" Hugh looked at her with terror in his eyes and dashed down the alleyway as quickly as he could.

She didn't get to eat dinner at Leoch that night. Instead Laoghaire was sequestered to her attic room, and her father made it very clear that he was taking her to the Hall the next day. He had warned her about her behavior with the lads before, and he was at his wit’s end with her. Maybe if The MacKenzie ordered a beating for her, she might finally stop making so free with every young lad who made eyes at her or paid her a compliment.

Laoghaire was terrified. It wasn't the beating itself that worried her—her father had beaten her with a belt before, so she knew how it would feel. The pain would pass. What she was terrified of was the utter humiliation of being beaten in the hall. Before all the men and the women, the Laird, the War Chief, even Letitia. And her Gran? Worst of all was the thought of Jamie Fraser watching. It didn't matter how buxom she had grown, how beautiful her flaxen hair, or pink her cheeks. If every time he looked at her he imagined her screaming out in pain while being held and beaten, humiliated in front of the crowd, he would never think of her in that way.

But as she awaited her punishment, she couldn't help but think back to the braw red-haired young man, pairing that attractive vision with the memory of Hugh's enthusiastic if inexpert caresses. She felt heavy with desire, and burdened with fear.

She didn’t remember everything from the Hall the next day. She couldn’t remember her father’s exact words, just that he accused her of every horrible thing he could think of—being a whore, carrying on with the young lads of the town repeatedly, and disrespecting his orders when he had demanded that she stop. He wanted her to be punished for disrespect and disobedience.

Laoghaire could not look at the crowd, sure she’d catch the eye of a friend, or Hugh, or Jamie. She did hear the two clear raps on the arm of the chair, and the MacKenzie giving his ruling. Then she heard the slow, terrifyingly deliberate sound of her Da unbuckling his belt. Two guards grabbed her by the arms, turning her so she faced the crowd, away from Colum and her Da. She had kept herself calm up to this point, but couldn’t keep the tears from beginning to flow. It was over. Every hope she’d entertained since she became a young woman was crumbling into dust. She pulled back against the rough hands that held her, setting her jaw stubbornly.

A husky voice called out in Gaelic, but Laoghaire was gritting her teeth, preparing herself for the stinging blow that must be only seconds away, and she didn’t truly hear it. She only noticed a stirring murmur in the crowd, the sound of feet moving and dresses rustling, and boots tramping across the floor toward her.

When Laoghaire finally got up the nerve to open her eyes, she thought she must have fainted, for surely she was imagining things. There, just feet away from her, facing Colum and her father, in a clean shirt and kilt, with curling copper hair and a smile on his face, was Jamie Fraser.

He was so handsome, so broad and tall, standing confidently in front of the crowd, speaking boldly in a way that somehow made the people laugh. Laoghaire looked back and forth between Jamie, Colum, and Dougal. She was confused, still not quite understanding what was happening.

Released by the guards after the brief negotiations between Colum and Jamie, Laoghaire stood there dumbly for a few seconds, and then realizing how lucky she was, she disappeared into the crowd, quickly finding the friendly face of her Gran, and collapsing into her arms, as Jamie announced to Colum that he chose fists, rather than the strap.

Laoghaire had watched the beating from the far corner of the Hall, held tightly by Mrs. Fitz. She couldn’t watch it all, as with each blow she winced as if she was the one who had been struck. Jamie Fraser was taking her punishment. Why would he do that? They hadn’t even spoken, let alone seen each other face to face since Jamie had returned. When Jamie had fallen to the ground, Laoghaire started sobbing. The guards pulled him to his feet, and he had mustered enough strength to smile and thank Rupert and Colum, and then he left the hall as well.

Though Colum was Laird of Leoch, Mrs. Fitz was the only omniscient one in the castle. She had quickly found out where Mrs. Beauchamp was caring for Jamie’s wounds, and bustled around the kitchen pulling together a tray with a bowl of leeches, a cup of willow bark tea with orris root and some St. John’s wort soaked in vinegar.

Laoghaire followed her at a distance, afraid to see Jamie, and yet needing to know he was well, that he wasn’t hurt too badly. When her grandmother left the room, she hung back at the entrance, longing to say something to Jamie, to see him, to thank him.

This was the first time she’d gotten a look at this English woman, “Mistress Beauchamp,” who had arrived with the raiding party. She was lovely, but a bit older than Jamie, with dark hair that appeared to be curly, but pinned up. The sassenach bent over Jamie as he sat on a chair, holding his face gently in her hands and turning it from side to side, peering closely at the bruises around his eye and the cut on his lip.

Jamie and the woman were speaking quietly to each other, which made Laoghaire wonder what was being said in the murmured conversation between the two, and then Mistress Beauchamp had noticed her outside the door, and nodded in her direction.

When Laoghaire and Jamie were alone, she could barely meet his eyes.

“Ye shouldna done that, James Fraser,” she said. “But thank ye.”

“Ah, lass,” said Jamie. One of his eyes was obviously going to be bruised the next day, but it looked like the leeches had gotten rid of the swelling. “I ken what it’s like to be young. Once when I was yer age, I was beaten at one of the Hall gatherings. I remembered how embarrassed I was then, and I didna want you to be shamed in front of everyone that knows ye.”

“But ye might have been truly hurt,” Laoghaire said, reaching gently up with her hand to touch the bruise on his cheek. His skin was warm, and his scruffy beard scratched her palm. She lowered her eyes as she gently drew her hand away. “I dinna ken if I can ever thank ye enough,” she said, tears glistening on her eyelashes.

“Dinna fash, lass,” murmured Jamie, reaching to pull her to him. She melted into the embrace, feeling his solid warmth against her. She could have stood like that forever, but felt him release her. Turning away, she quickly left the chamber so he wouldn’t see her cry.

☆☆☆☆☆

A commotion at the entrance of the house brought Laoghaire back from her reverie. Marsali was smiling up at Jamie as they came inside, their hands linked. He drew her into an embrace and the two stood there for a moment, the red haired giant clasping the petite blonde in his arms.

"Where have you been?" Laoghaire asked them.

"A wee walk," Jamie responded.

“Well, close the door,” Laoghaire snapped irritably. “Ye’re letting the cold in.”

On to Chapter 8 : The Gentleman of Leisure Fergus has always been like a son to Jamie.

#Jamie fraser #Laoghaire MacKenzie #CanonCompliant #Why did Jamie marry Laoghaire?#Why did their marriage fall apart?#Outlander fanfic #BetweenSceneswriter

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