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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

Note

Prompt: fake realtionahip/marriage, whoever you like!

Ooohoho! This has been chilling as a draft for ages, now I have completed it. *mildly evil laughter*

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The funny thing about Geralt, Jaskier thought as he did up the buttons on his best doublet, was that he really didn’t lie. He said things that weren’t true, but they were usually things he believed, or thought he believed because he was tired or grumpy. Sometimes he told half truths. He didn’t lie though.

It wasn’t even as if he didn’t have a poker face, Geralt’s face was all poker face, he just hated lying. Normally it wasn’t an issue, but tonight, Jaskier reflected, it wouldn’t be ideal.

Jaskier had heard through some whispered words at a pub that a bunch of Nilfgaardian nobles were having a gala, and the temptation of finding out what political secrets they could was two strong for their odd little family. So Geralt and Jaskier were going undercover.

There had been quite a bit of debate about that. Jaskier was obviously going. He’d grown his hair longer and had a bit of scruff going, and to be frank, all a bard really needed to disguise themselves was a new name, people saw the clothing and heard the music, but rarely remembered the face. Yennefer would have been the ideal partner in crime except for a crucial thing.

When Yennefer had been changed by magic, her eyes had been left the same. Somehow, the transformation had solidified them, and no spell would change them. Her eyes were too distinctive, and so she would stay behind with Ciri. That left Geralt, and since the ball was only for the nobility, he would be the fiance of Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.

Damn.

See, Geralt didn’t lie, and that was bad enough. Jaskier wouldn’t be able to rely on Yennefer’s in-depth knowledge of the nobility and that was worse. Worst of all though, was the fact that Jaskier would have to spend a night full of wine and dancing pretending to be in love with, and engaged to, Geralt. Who he loved.

And who had, not three months ago, blamed Jaskier for every bad thing in life.

Since then Geralt had caught up with him half-way down the mountain and there had been some grumbled words about how Jaskier ‘wasn’t actually, exactly, a total curse’. Not a glowing review, but then Cintra had fallen, and they had Cirilla and they’d found a wounded Yennefer and it had all gotten so very busy.

Jaskier cast a last look in the mirror as the door to his room creaked open. He turned, expecting Geralt, but it was Yennefer.

“I suppose,” she said, eyeing him. “That this is as good as you get.” It could have been said cruelly. A year ago it would have been. Now, though, the words were fond.

“I like the kohl, it goes well with the wrinkles at your eyes,” she winked. He smiled. There were no more wrinkles now than had been twenty years ago, and they both knew it.

“I wasn’t sure about the eyeliner,” Jaskier said, trying to sound haughty. “Overdramatic eye looks are your thing.”

Yennefer chuckled and sat on the end of the bed. “A tiny smudge of eyeliner is hardly overdramatic.” She studied him approvingly, then looked at him. Her expression was frighteningly soft.

“Have you told him that you love him?”

“Never,” Jaskier said, fiving his cravat in the mirror.

“Why ever not?”

“It would only be the mountain all over again,” Jaskier sighed. “I tried, you know. I spent years trying, and then on the mountain, I thought I was being clear...”

“What did you say?”

“I asked him to leave it all, just for a little while, with me. I thought we could go to the coast.”

“The coast,” Yennefer said from her spot on the bed. “As in Lettenhove? You wanted to show him where you grew up?”

“Partially. I could explain the immortality business easier if he met my sister, but mostly I just thought it would be peaceful.”

Yennefer snorted. “With Geralt? Peaceful? He’d spend the whole time fighting drowners and telling you not to write about mermaids because they’re vicious.”

Jaskier smiled wanly. “That’s pretty peaceful for him.”

“But he said no?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Jaskier said. “Then he, well, you know, he spent the night in your tent.”

“Ah,” Yennefer said. “For what it’s worth, I hate that it happened too.”

“He doesn’t though!” Jaskier cried, whirling around to face her. “He wants it to happen again! And you! You don’t want him but he wants you while I want him!” The frustration of the whole situation and nerves for what was to come were overwhelming. “And you’re here, trying to help me,” he said more quietly. “Why?”

“Because I like you,” Yennefer said, simply, standing from the bed. “And I like him. I also never, ever want to kiss him again. The djinn is sitting, somewhere in my chest, telling me I love him, but the feeling is...sick. It feels like love, as well as I can remember, but it’s poisoned and twisted and I want no part in it.”

Her purple eyes pinned Jaskier to the floor.

“And that poison pales in comparison to how much you love him. He deserves that.”

She swept out the door, tossing a “Sort it out,” over her shoulder.

Well.

The next knock at the door was Geralt, Ciri in tow. Jaskier hoped the witcher hadn’t heard any part of his and Yennefer’s conversation, but he suspected that no one overheard conversations that Yen didn’t want them too.

“Dandelion!” Ciri said, leaping at him and using the name she’d first met him under. “You look nice! Like a prince in one of your stories!”

Jaskier blushed and thanked her quietly as he scooped her up and tossed her, laughing, onto the bed.

He looked at Geralt for his opinion.

Oh he looked so good too. Yennefer had charmed him so that anyone else would see a different man in Geralt’s place, but to Jaskier he looked just the same. But he was wearing white.

A white chemise, the collar and cuffs with fine red embroidery, with a cream colored cape, half length so it fell just to Geralt’s hips. It was embroidered too, green and pink and so many other colors, despite being overall still mostly cream. The pants were the same creamy fabric with a stripe down each side. Dark boots and a wide, decorative, dark belt completed the look.

“Wow,” Jaskier said.

“Rivian traditional clothing,” Geralt muttered.

“I thought you’d hardly actually been to Rivia,” Jaskier said,.It was a better choice than the other thoughts in his head, which were half-formed screams about how absolutely skin tight those pants were.

“I haven’t been, but my...character is.”

“Right,” Jaskier said, dragging his eyes above Geralt’s shoulders. “My fiance, Ludomir of Rivia.”

Geralt said nothing.

Jaskier kicked himself for mentioning the fiance thing.

“We should go,” he said.

And they went.

The lord’s castle was small, as castles go, and the guards at the gate didn’t even bother to check their invitations. With all the other lords and ladies streaming past, no one would guess that the pair were out of place. Jaskier and Geralt enterred the ballroom and Jaskier felt his stomach drop straight through to his shoes.

The walls were positively lined with Nilfgaardian soldiers. Geralt’s shoulders stiffened too, but they steered themselves to a feast table as if nothing was wrong.

It took them almost a full circle of the tables to find the two little cards for ‘Viscount de Lettenhove’ and ‘Guest’. Getting onto the guest list had been laughably easy, and Jaskier just sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the stupid title was finally useful for something.

They sat in their places and guests populated the seats around them. There was a lady next to Jaskier who already smelled of the strongly alcoholic sherry that was being served. Her hair, probably a wig towered, and was strung all over with so many pearls and little tiny golden ornaments that when she stepped outside she must surely be attacked by magpies.

“My lady,” Jaskier said, as chivalrous as he could around a mouthful of her rose perfume. “I’m afraid we haven’t had a chance to be introduced.”

“Oooh,” she giggled, “You’re sweet, I’m Dame Au’Vigne, and I can see by your card that you are the Viscount de Lettenhove, I knew your father.”

Yes, Jaskier thought. I remember, he turned down your proposal. Jaskier had been a lad then, barely eight years old, but he remembered through a child’s eyes a mountain of lace and perfume who had offered to marry his father while actually at his mother’s funeral.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said. Heinous bitch, he thought. He remembered rumors too, which are always a bard’s stock and trade, that Dame Au’Vigne’s husbands were always wealthy, usually handsome, and all of them had shockingly short lifespans.

Rumor also had it that she was backing Nilfgaard financially and had been playing the shipping stock with insider knowledge of their movements. A very good person to be seated next to tonight.

“May I introduce my fiance, Ludomir of Rivia,” Jaskier said, gesturing to Geralt. Geralt nodded and hummed, somewhat politely.

“How handsome,” Dame Au’Vigne stage whispered. “Where ever did you find him?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jaskier said.

The lord of the castle stood up and gave a droning speech. It was full of euphemisms about ‘upholding standards’ and ‘fostering strong relations’ that boiled down to ‘I’m an untrustworthy bastard who believes that allowing the deaths of my people en masse is fine so long as I make money.’ It was depressing, too, as Jaskier looked around the ballroom to see so many people nodding in agreement.

Traitors and bastards, the lot of them.

Geralt’s face hadn’t changed even an inch.

“So,” Dame Au’Vigne said as the appetizer course was served. “You two aren’t exactly in a honeymoon phase, are you?”

And she was right, for a couple, newly engaged, Jaskier and Geralt hadn’t acted the part yet at all.

“I’m afraid,” Jaskier said, inventing wildly. “That we’re both just a touch nervous, the engagement is so new, you see, and this is our first event,” he took Geralt’s hand, above the table, so Dame Au’Vigne could see. “As a couple.”

“Oh how sweet,” she said airily. “You know, they’ll have dancing between the courses, it’ll be a great way for you to wet your social feet. Sir Erdin and the lady in the lavender dress,” she pointed across the ballroom. “They’re newly engaged as well.” She lowered her voice.

“Sir Erdin is very supportive of the cause, word has it he’s in with the very inner circle,” Dame Au’Vigne giggled, as if being in the inner circle of a murderous group of intruders was as delightful as a recent engagement.

“How interesting!” Jaskier said, affecting a jealous and impressed tone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geralt’s eyebrow twitch, the way it did when he was listening hard.

“Oh yes,” Dame Au’Vigne said. “And Lord Snapcase, in the corner, he...” and she went on, was the marvelous thing, she couldn’t seem to help herself but gossip about everyone. And she had all these details about how they were helping ‘the cause’. Destiny must have finally decided to throw Jaskier and Geralt a bone.

Then the appetizer course was finished and Jaskier felt much less lucky. Dame Au’Vigne was ushering him and Geralt out of their seats to dance. It wasn’t one of the quick, hopping around, switching partners dances either. No, the band seemed insistent on only slow, romantic music.

Awkwardly, Geralt slid one large hand around Jaskier’s waist and they turned in slow circles on the dance floor. The witcher’s face looked like a thunderclap.

“Try and look like you’re having fun, darling,” Jaskier said. Please don’t look at me as though holding me is torture, his inner self begged.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. Jaskier leaned in.

“Really dear heart,” he leaned in even closer, lips almost touching Geralt’s ear. “People are going to suspect something,” he said in the barest of whispers.

“Let them,” Geralt hissed back in the same fashion. “We’ve got the information, we can leave.”

Jaskier, keeping up appearances, tossed his head back and let out a delighted shriek of laughter, as if Geralt had just told him a joke or, perhaps, made a wonderfully indecent proposal.

“Later, perhaps,” he said, stage-whispering for the sake of those around them. Leaning in again he whispered for real, “We can’t leave until the party’s over, no one else will, they’d send some of those soldiers after us for sure.”

The music changed, and Geralt and Jaskier’s slow circles changed speed with it.

Geralt hissed in his ear again, “I don’t see why I had to be your,” this close Jaskier could see Geralt’s jaw working with distaste. “Lover.”

“Fiance,” Jaskier said, trying not to let his heart sink. It couldn’t possibly go any lower. “There’s a difference.”

They said no more to each other, and after the second dance, declined the third to sit back at their seats and await the arrival of the soup course.

The man sat beside Geralt was some old military man, mostly mustache and the rest of him was a rather musty and very old fashioned uniform. It had gold braid and a colonel’s insignia. The hat that sat next to his chair had a plume.

He leaned over to Geralt and said, rather loudly, in a voice that implied tone deafness, to both volume and social situations, “Just marrying him for the money, eh?”

People to both sides of Jaskier and Geralt looked around. Dame Au’Vigne looked at them askance.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. It was a negative answer to the colonel’s question, but the man didn’t take it as such.

“Often is the way,” the man nearly bellowed. “My missus hated me right up to the day she died.”

Jaskier curled in on himself. The role of Viscount wasn’t a big one, mostly administrative and, these days, completed by his sister Rowena, who was better at sitting behind a desk. Still, argued a battered part of his long ago but still proper upbringing. The name of Pankratz was being dragged through the mud. Lots of these people would know the name too, these sour, vindictive, unpleasant, murderous people. And they’d know the gossip, would have taken part in the gossip about ‘Young Julian running off to be a bard,’ (this generally said with the same tone as is usually leant to slave trader) and how ‘he’ll never find a good marriage now,’ how he was ‘a disgrace to the name.’

And here was their long awaited confirmation. Jaskier-Julian, couldn’t find a good marriage, was being wed only for his money. Of course, more than half the pairings here were only in it for the money, but to have it said, so loudly too, and before the wedding had even happened, it was social condemnation.

Jaskier looked down at the table cloth, his face hot. He’d faced social condemnation before, of course, he’d survive. What hurt was that Geralt wasn’t really protesting, Geralt couldn’t even pretend to like Jaskier, not for a single evening. Twenty years he’d done a good enough job of acting to convince even Jaskier, mostly, apart from the punches and the insults and...maybe Jaskier had been a little blind to the truth but still.

It was ruining their cover though, so he protested quietly. “Not just for the money,” he said, patting Geralt’s hand where one fist wrapped around his goblet. “My fiance is just shy, that’s all.”

The damage was already done, but the old colonel hiccupped. “Well lad,” he said, giving Geralt a slap on the back. “This ale’s pretty good so drink up. Got me through three years of happy marriage, strong ale did.” The man took a slug of his own drink. “And fourty seven more unhappy years.” He guffawed hugely and unpleasantly, little drops of ale flinging from his mustache.

Wherever the soul of the unpleasant man’s dead wife was, Jaskier felt sure she was happy to be away from this miserable old drunk.

Geralt, however, was looking at Jaskier. Their eyes met. Jaskier knew he probably looked as hunted as he felt, and his cheeks were probably still burning from the embarassment. Still, it seemed as though Geralt was about to say something. His golden eyes were full of emotion, but Jaskier couldn’t parse out what kind.

Whatever kind it was, it caused Geralt to take the colonel’s advice and drink like there was no tomorrow.

Great. Jaskier had driven his companion to drinking.

He felt a little like doing so himself.

The soup course was good, hot and savory, but underspiced. Geralt slurped it up gratefully. Jaskier knew that rich food was usually too much for his senses if it was spiced to Jaskier’s taste.

More dancing. Jaskier didn’t stand, at first, assuming that Geralt would rather sit and drink more. There were some snickers as people judged him. Geralt stood though, and he offered a hand and led Jaskier to the dance floor.

“You need to act drunk,” Jaskier whispered in his ear. “If you were a normal man you would be.”

“I am acting,” Geralt rumbled.

“You’re very steady for a drunk,” Jaskier sniffed.

“You said I was shy, now I’m less shy,” Geralt whispered. “And I’ve been drinking. So...drunk.” It was torture, being held like this, having that voice in Jaskier’s ear. That hand, so warm cupping his own. He wanted to cry.

A couple whirled past them. It was the Dame Au’Vigne, gossiping to some new dance partner. A snippet of her words caught them.

“-de Lettenhove. Entirely loveless of course. Unlovable, his father said once, of course as a bard-” then the tide of conversation and other dancers stole the rest of the words.

Jaskier sagged. His father hadn’t been a nice man, and unlovable wasn’t the worst of what he’d been called in his life, but now, with Geralt so close and so disgusted by the prospect...well, it hit a little close to home.

“Laugh,” Geralt whispered in his ear.

“What?” Jaskier hissed.

“Like before, laugh like before, but...more so. Pretend I said a dirty joke.”

Jaskier did, heads turned as he pretended to laugh, half scandalized and half delighted at something Geralt said.

Geralt even chuckled along with him. Then his hand crept down Jaskier’s back to his hip. It wasn’t dirty. It was just so,so spine tinglingly close to dirty.

It was almost worse. If Geralt had gripped his ass that would have been bad, but this, Jaskier was left to speculate. He had a very active imagination. The couples next to them were giggling and tittering, scandalized, but not too much, at the pair.

They danced all three dances. During the second dance Geralt spun Jaskier out and then back in flashily, dipping him over one arm like a dainty maiden. Jaskier, who was no dainty maiden, knew the strength that elaborate dip must have taken and his head spun. The third dance was slow, and once again they simply held one another and turned in slow circles. Except Geralt pressed their cheeks together in a way that was so intimate that Jaskier finally gave in. Just tonight he had Geralt, all of him, his attention, his warmth.

There was only so much a bard could take, and Jaskier gave in to the fantasy.

“I wonder how Yennefer is,” Geralt whispered. “And Ciri.”

It was like having cold water poured all over him. Jaskier’s fantasy shattered as soon as it had formed. Of course Geralt wasn’t enjoying this, of course his mind was elsewhere. He had a beautiful sorceress to think of, even if they weren’t sleeping together. Geralt and Yennefer and Ciri made the perfect, happy family. Where did Jaskier fit in to that?

He pulled back a little, already missing the warmth of Geralt’s cheek against his own. They finished the dance stiffly.

Back at the table, squished between Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, the main course was awful. Jaskier couldn’t judge it on the food, which he barely tasted. Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, however, had apparently come to the conclusion that Geralt or, Ludomir, rather, was marrying Jaskier for the money and the sex. They tittered, loudly and drunkely, to those around, and Geralt leaned in.

“Surely we can leave after this course,” he whispered.

Desperate to be rid of the charade, Jaskier thought. To not have to be engaged to me. “Can’t,” he whispered. “Have to stay for dessert and more dancing, else it looks suspect.”

“Hmmm.” It was a displeased hum.

“And, there will be small talk, with dessert. You need to say something, people will think you’re mute.”

“You two twitter into one another’s ears all the time,” Dame Au’Vigne said loudly. She was fully drunk off the sherry and very loud. “But not one kiss,” she lowered her voice, as if trying to be discreet. It didn’t work. “Is it truly as loveless as they say? I know you aren’t waiting until marriage.”

As who say? Jaskier thought. The only person quite that invested seems to be you.

“Not loveless,” Jaskier said. It seemed weak even to his ears.

“Surely you’ll join the dancing again, then,” Dame Au’Vigne said.

“No,” Jaskier said, fiddling with his napkin. “I’m feeling quite too full to dance, ate too fast, I’m afraid.” He hoped she was too drunk to notice he’d picked at his plate. It seemed she was.

“Lovely little veranda, get some air there,” said a man who, according to Dame Au’Vigne, was shipping weapons to Nilfgaard behind the backs of multiple heads of state.

Jaskier nodded,stood, bowed, and made his escape. He sighed, but wasn’t surprised to find that Geralt had followed along behind. Of course he wanted to escape the party too, but Jaskier wanted to escape...him.

To his shame and surprise, he found tears in his eyes. The pressure of sitting in a room chock full of people who wanted to kill him, combined with the fact that every last one of them reminded him of being bullied in school, and add to that that he was supposed to be fake engaged to Geralt...it was too much. Fake engaged and even in their fake engagement Geralt didn’t like Jaskier.

Jaskier’s rational brain knew that Geralt did like him, mostly. He just didn’t love him.

Jaskier leaned his elbows on the railing, overlooking some moonlit gardens, and felt the tears roll down his face.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said quietly.

“Yes,” Jaskier said. He knew Geralt could smell the salt of his tears or whatever, but still turned his face away so the witcher couldn’t see.

“I danced with you though.”

Jaskier chuckled wetly. “Nobles dance with people they hate all the time.”

Geralt was quiet for a minute then, very gently, he took one of Jaskier’s hands. “I don’t hate you.”

It was too much, Jaskier started crying in earnest, sobbing.

“C’mon, Jaskier, I like you. A lot.” Geralt was, for him, panicking clearly. Jaskier almost smiled. He was so bad at dealing with other people’s emotion. And his own.

“You’re my friend,” Geralt said, a little stuntedly. “You know I’m not a good liar.”

Too much. Twenty-two years and he finally said the word ‘friends’ and Jaskier wanted more. He whipped around to face Geralt.

“Tell me the truth, then, Geralt. Tell me you love me, it doesn’t have to be the truth for forever, but can you love me just for a night? Can you make it the truth for tonight?” Jaskier’s tears were ugly and blobby and drying up fast but he continued.

“Because I’ve loved you so long I don’t know any other truth,” He leaned forward and planted his forhead on Geralt’s collarbone and sniffled through the last of his tears, curling one, shaking fist into Geralt’s lovely pale cape as he cried. “Just this one night, Geralt, love me back.”

He hadn’t meant to say any of it, was half expecting Geralt to toss him off the low balcony into the bushes below.

Instead Jaskier was lifted by two strong arms and sat down on the railing. Warm, delightful lips pressed against his and suddenly he was being kissed within an inch of his life.

“The truth, you want,” Geralt said, pulling back and panting. “Is the only one I can give. I can’t pretend to love you.” Here Geralt looked into Jaskier’s eyes, like being struck by lightning. “I only love you, no pretending, I swear it.”

“But-” Jaskier was cut off.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said, furiously. “I think you think I don’t like you, Jaskier I like you, I love you so much I don’t know what to do and I’m...I’m not good with words. Or emotions.” Geralt’s shoulders dropped a little. “I just am, and the way I am is... The way I am is better with you.”

Geralt’s face screwed up with anguish. “And I’m the reason you think I don’t like you, it’s my fault and that feels so...so bad. Yennefer’s been working with me on the feelings thing and always says ‘bad isn’t a feeling’ but I can’t tell you what all the feeling is.”

Jaskier was staring, mouth open, as frustrated, stilted, fumbling words left Geralt’s mouth. They sounded angry, but only at himself. Geralt was looking up at him as if seeking benediction.

“Tell me you love me again,” Jaskier said.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Jaskier giggled as Geralt lifted him and spun him around before tucking him in close and kissing his forehead.

“I,” he said.

A kiss to Jaskier’s nose. “Love.”

A deep, breathtaking kiss to his lips. “You.”

There was nothing left for Jaskier to say except, “wow.”

Geralt smiled, that lovely warm little smile he saved for special times and offered his arm to Jaskier. “Shall we?”

They paraded back into the ballroom and danced the final dance of the set. Geralt whispered a suggestion of what he’d really like for dessert and this time Jaskier didn’t have to fake the scandalized giggle. “Back home, perhaps,” he said.

Dessert meant more conversation with Dame Au’Vigne, which was of course unbearable. There was plenty of Champagne though, which was pretty good, and the bubbles seemed to fill Jaskier all the way up. He took pleasure in picturing the downfall of all these horrible people when Nilfgaard was finally defeated for good.

He especially enjoyed sticking it to her gossip when he fed Geralt a strawberry with cream from his fingertips and recieved a kiss in thanks. Geralt was clearly enjoying himself too. He had a sweet tooth, and that certainly helped, but his hand that never left Jaskier’s under the table was a much better clue.

They walked back to the inn, flushed and warm in the cool night air, bidding farewell to the other drunken lords and ladies all filtering to finer inns or grand coaches.

Then they were alone on their path back, Geralt’s witcher senses confirming their isolation. Then, Geralt, who never told lies, whispered sweet nothings into Jaskier’s ear the entire way home. Jaskier believed every single one.

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It’s done, this one’s quite long and I loved writing it. Geralt is useless at playing pretend, but very good at loving Jaskier in his own way. I imagine his emotion lessons with Yennefer must have been rather intense.

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fake dating #getting together #fluff #fluff and angst #tiny amount of horniness #read with caution

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valdomarx · 4 years

Text

The siren has always been a curious sort. His brothers and sisters are content to stay beneath the waves, and to peek up at the wide world above only occasionally, but Jaskier has bigger dreams. He longs to experience the land for himself, to see the forests and feel the wind he has heard so much about, to be among the birds and the bears and, most of all, to know the humans who call that strange, dry place home.

The siren has never done as he is told, either. So although it is forbidden, on his eighteenth birthday he sneaks away from their underwater home and heads to the beach, the one they say is dangerous and infested with humans.

He find a rock not far from the shore and sits upon it, feeling the bright hot warmth of the sun on his silvery skin and gazing up at the clouds. It is unlike anywhere he has been before, and it is beautiful.

He sits on his rock and he sings, for music has always been his special joy, and even among the sirens he was renowned for his fine voice. And humans hear his song, and they come to the beach, and they stare at him and point and talk among themselves. Jaskier waves to them, delighted to make their acquaintance, but they shrink back in fear when they see his spread wings and sharp claws, and when he jumps from his rock to swim to the shore they pelt him with bread rolls and flee.

So Jaskier stays on his rock, and he watches the birds, and he sings. And in not so much time a stranger appears on the beach to listen to him. Jaskier preens under the attention and turns out his best songs, ones about death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak. The stranger is tall and broad, dressed in dark, hard scales, and his white hair glints captivatingly in the sun. All at once, Jaskier is in love, deep and heartfelt, and he knows he will follow this beautiful stranger anyway.

Jaskier finishes up his song and calls out to the man. “I love the way you just... stand on the shore and brood,” he teases. He has heard humans are a humourless lot, but perhaps they are persuadable.

The man scowls and crosses his arms. “I’m here on a job.” His voice is rough and gravely, and it sends shivers up Jaskier’s spine. “Heard there was a siren making trouble.”

“Making trouble?” Jaskier splutters. “Making sweet music, more like.”

He knows humans love music as dearly as sirens do, and he wonders if the man enjoyed his songs. He longs for a reaction, but the stranger only stands and stares, stony-faced. “You must have some review for me,” Jaskier wheedles. “Three words or less.”

The stranger glares, lips pursed sourly.

“Come on,” Jaskier needles. “No one else hesitates to comment on my performance. And you wouldn’t want to keep a siren with...” he looks down at his hand, casting around for something the stranger might find enticing, “... bread in his claws waiting, would you?”

He waves the damp bread at the stranger, whose scowl deepens.

Jaskier takes this as permission and swims closer to the shore. The man watches him approach, impassive. Up close, Jaskier can see his deep amber eyes and the tiny flickers around his mouth that suggest he is fighting back a smile.

“Oof.” Jaskier arrives on the shore with an ungainly wobble. His long tail makes it difficult to balance on the sand, but by the gods he will try.

“You’re not dangerous, are you?” the stranger says, eyeing him critically. “Just annoying. Now go away, and I’ll make sure there are no more contracts put on you.” He turns on his heel and walks off.

And Jaskier certainly won’t be having that, not when he’s finally met his muse, his companion, his destiny. This man is chock full of adventure, he can smell it. He jumps back into the water and swims after the man, as quick as he can.

“But I have cost you a job, and I must make up for that,” he calls. Even sirens understand work and pay.

“Go away,” the stranger huffs.

“Need a hand on your travels? I could help.” A brilliant idea hits him. “I know, I could be your barker! Recording your exploits, spreading your tales!”

The stranger stops. He sighs deeply. His shoulders fall. He turns toward the sea, and Jaskier peeks up from under the waves, flattening his ears to be as cute as he can.

“I’m going to regret this,” the stranger mutters, almost too quiet for Jaskier to hear. “My next job is a pack of drowners on the next beach. Perhaps you’ll be useful as a lookout.”

“Splendid!” Jaskier trills. “I won’t be but silent backup.”

#dandelion wrote the little mermaid in canon right?#so this is thematically appropriate #geraskier #the witcher #my writing #octoberfest #romcom prompts day 29: modern reboot of a classic tale #siren!jaskier

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havenoffandoms · 4 years

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For the Greater Good - Whumptober Prompt 9

Prompt: For the Greater Good (’take me instead’/run/ritual sacrifice

Pairing: Jaskier x Eskel

Summary: The two lay for a while in peaceful silence before Eskel’s baritone voice was heard again.

“I think I want to talk about my nightmare. I think it would help. Not only me, but it would also help you understand some… things about me.”

“Oh Eskel,” Jaskier placed a single kiss on the witcher’s collarbone, “I am all ears, my heart.”

“Alright.” Eskel took a composing breath and pulled Jaskier closer with his free arm as if drawing strength from his bard.

TW: nightmares, hints of smut if you squint, angst and fluff

Jaskier was jostled awake in the middle of the night when a muscular arm landed unceremoniously on his stomach, knocking the air out of him and forcing him to sit up in surprise. His eyes instantly searched the room frantically for any sign of threat, but it soon became apparent that it was the sleeping form next to him in bed that was responsible for the commotion. Jaskier was quickly to card his fingers through the fine brown hair and whisper sweet nothings into the air between him and his lover.

“Shh, Eskel my love, wake up. You’re safe.”

A string of mumbles left Eskel’s mouth, but he did not wake up. The crease between his eyebrows deepened and Jaskier’s concern for his lover only grew at the sight. Eskel was no stranger to nightmares, but Jaskier had rarely seen them have such a strong hold on the quiet witcher. He shook Eskel more firmly as he desperately tried to pry his dearest witcher from the clutches of sleep.

“Eskel, wake up! It’s me, you’re safe. Wake up, dear heart.”

Eskel eventually shot up into a seated position, his eyes blown wide and panting heavily as he willed his racing heart to slow down. Jaskier gave the witcher some time to recover from the night terror and to get his bearings. Twenty years travelling with Geralt had told the bard not to spook a startled witcher, or you might just end up being reflexively punched in the gut for your efforts. Eskel and Jaskier had met shortly after the dragon hunt when Geralt had sent Jaskier on his merry way. The bard had taken residence in Novigrad for a couple of weeks to recuperate and get over the heartache that Geralt’s harsh words had occasioned. Eskel had been passing through Novigrad for supplies and a heavy storm had eventually convinced the witcher to pay for a room for the night at the Kingfisher, where Jaskier happened to be performing that same night.

Jaskier had been hypnotised. Eskel’s warm amber eyes, his quiet – almost shy demeanour, the way he fiddled nervously with his witcher medallion when the tavern started filling up, the soft smile tugging at the corner of the scarred lips when Jaskier performed ‘Toss a Coin’ and was joined by the crowd. Jaskier had been unable to resist. After the cheering of the audience had died down and Jaskier had picked up the coins tossed his way, he went to the bar and ordered two meals and four tankards of ale before making his way to Eskel’s table. You must be one of the only patrons in here who hasn’t commented on my performance. You must have a review, three words or less. Jaskier hated himself in that moment – it was almost like he was looking to get hurt again. He remembered Geralt’s answer to that very same question two decades earlier and the memory of Geralt hurt more than the bard cared to admit.

Jaskier should have known that Eskel would be different from the get-go.

Three words isn’t nearly enough to describe how much I enjoyed your performance, bard.

From that moment on, Jaskier had willingly surrendered his heart to the witcher.

“It’s alright, dear heart,” Jaskier tentatively whispered, his voice too quiet for any mere mortal to hear, but Eskel’s enhanced sense of hearing would no doubt had picked up the soft reassurance, “you’re safe at Kaer Morhen. You’re home, with me. And Geralt, Lambert and Vesemir are here too. We’re all here with you.”

“Go back to sleep, Jaskier,” Eskel’s tone was soft, but betrayed how tense he still felt in the aftermath of his nightmare. Jaskier’s heart broke at the sound. “It was just a bad dream. I’ll be alright.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jaskier offered kindly, but the way Eskel visibly flinched away from his lover’s touch when the bard went to place a comforting hand on the witcher’s shoulder was enough to stop Jaskier in his tracks. He tried to ignore the flash of hurt he felt at the obvious rejection. It’s nothing personal, Jaskier reasoned with himself, Eskel just needs time. Although Eskel was usually the least averse to talk about his feelings, Jaskier had learned over the past three years of knowing Eskel that some topics should not be brought up. It was not a long list, but Jaskier was convinced it was not an exhaustive one by any means. Eskel’s scars and how he came by them were one of those topics that Jaskier had learned not to broach unless he wanted to see his lover retreat into himself and shut off completely. The trials and the sacking of Kaer Morhen were on that list too.

Jaskier had a funny feeling that whatever Eskel had seen in his nightmare would feature on the list of topics-not-to-be-mentioned.

“Got to sleep. I’ll be there when you wake,” Eskel promised as he threw the covers to one side and got out of bed. In a flash, Jaskier’s hand grabbed onto his lover’s wrist and held him back long enough for Eskel to cast a tired look over his shoulder. The witcher could have easily broken free from Jaskier’s grasp, but he allowed the bard to pull him back.

“Where are you going at this time of night, dearest witcher?”

The concern in Jaskier’s voice made Eskel heave a heavy sigh. The witcher twisted around and leaned over the mattress to place a tender kiss on Jaskier’s forehead.

“I promise I won’t be going far, sweetling. I just need to clear my head. I’ll probably go groom Scorpion or shovel snow out of the courtyard. Now, go back to sleep, you hear me?”

Jaskier wasn’t exactly pleased with Eskel’s answer, much more keen on keeping the witcher in their warm bed and coax his worries and fears out of him. Kill them with kindness, his mother had always told him. Jaskier was a master at doing just that, and it was even easier with Eskel since the bard had the witcher wrapped around his little finger. However, Jaskier knew that any attempts at keeping Eskel in bed this time would end up in failure for him. He knew better than to pressure his witcher to talk when Eskel was clearly not ready to open his heart to him yet. Jaskier smiled at Eskel, and although the smile did not quite reach the bard’s bright blue eyes he hoped that it was appeasing nonetheless.

“I promise I’ll be back in the morning when you wake,” Eskel repeated himself, whether for his sake or Jaskier’s the bard could not really tell.

“Alright then,” Jaskier finally relented, and the soft kiss he got in recompense for his understanding rightened the word on its axis for a brief instant. Unfortunately, the tender moment did not last nearly as long as Jaskier would have wished as Eskel pulled back far too early for Jaskier’s liking. “I love you, dear heart.”

“And I you, Jaskier,” Eskel retorted before stepping out of the room. Jaskier did not go back to sleep that night, his mind too tormented to find peace when Eskel was so clearly upset. There was nothing else Jaskier could do but wait until his witcher came back to him. And hopefully by then, Eskel would be ready to talk.

_______

Jaskier had just started to dose off when Eskel returned to him only a few hours shy of sunrise. He smelled of Jaskier’s bergamot soap and of freshly cleaned cotton. Jaskier deduced that his witcher had stopped by the hot springs on his way back to his and Jaskier’s bedroom. The slightly damp hair tickling Jaskier’s face as Eskel cuddled against him under the covers was another indication that the witcher had just recently indulged in a bath. Jaskier instantly shifted closer to Eskel’s warm body and nuzzled the thick neck affectionately. Eskel locked their lips in a loving kiss.

“Did you manage to get back to sleep, sweetling?”

“No. Did you manage to clear your head?”

“No. After a couple of hours of me fussing over Scorpion he started to act cranky, so I thought it best to leave him be,” the witcher explained, an amused chuckle rumbling low in his chest which had Jaskier smirking. The bard’s fingers traced complicated patterns on the taut skin of Eskel’s stomach, pulling a pleased purr from the witcher.

“And judging by the heavenly smell, you spent some time in the hot springs.”

“Mmh. Figured you wouldn’t appreciate me reeking of horse when I came back to bed,” Eskel explained sheepishly.

“Oh, dearest heart, I’ve smelled far worse on you than horse sweat. Drowner gut comes to mind, or rotfiend remains. Did I ever tell you the story of how Geralt return to a tavern covered in selkimore guts? Now that was a smell to behold. I could almost taste it in my mouth!”

“You may have mentioned that once or twice,” Eskel chuckled at the memories and the sound warmed Jaskier’s heart. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his fingers trailed up to hover over Eskel’s heart. The witcher let out a content sigh and covered Jaskier’s hand with his larger one, squeezing his lover’s digits affectionately. The two lay for a while in peaceful silence before Eskel’s baritone voice was heard again.

“I think I want to talk about my nightmare. I think it would help. Not only me, but it would also help you understand some… things about me.”

“Oh Eskel,” Jaskier placed a single kiss on the witcher’s collarbone, “I am all ears, my heart.”

“Alright.” Eskel took a composing breath and pulled Jaskier closer with his free arm as if drawing strength from his bard. “Did Geralt ever tell you how I ended up at Kaer Morhen when I was a child?”

Jaskier snorted unceremoniously at the question.

“Geralt barely gave me the time of day for the best part of two decades, darling. He’s a witcher of very few words.”

“Hm. He never used to be, but I suppose that’s a tale for another night. Anyway. I was born in a small village in the mountains near Toussaint. I only know this because Vesemir taught us some geography when we were growing up and he happened to mention the ‘hill folk’ from where I came from. I don’t remember much of my childhood, most of the memories were lost during the trials. Some things stuck with me, though. I remember an old lullaby my mother used to sing to me every night as she tucked us into bed. And I remember my younger brother Cyril.”

Jaskier held his breath as Eskel told his story. There was nothing Jaskier loved more than listening to people tell theirw stories, whether they were made up or based on real events. As a bard, it was his job to embellish and perhaps dramatize the stories he heard, but it felt wrong doing this with Eskel’s tale. Jaskier could sense the raw emotion in the witcher’s tone as he recalled what little memories he had of his family. It would be sacrilegious to tarnish these memories without his lover’s explicit permission.

“Cyril was three or four years younger than me I think. He would never leave my side. I don’t remember much of my father, but I have a feeling that’s because he was either absent or indifferent to us. Then again, I don’t remember my mother much either. But Cyril? I’ll never forget him. We were close, really close in fact. I remember taking him with me to the river every day to get water, and I would teach him to set up snares for the rabbits and told him which berries he could eat. I don’t know who taught me all these things, though.”

“I remember taking a class in Oxenfurt where we learned about hill folk culture,” Jaskier spoke after a short silence, “they taught us that hill folk often raise their children as a community. One of the elders will probably have taught a group of children some rudimentary survival skills. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was already the case nearly a century ago when you were a child.”

Eskel hummed pensively but did not elaborate on Jaskier’s remark. The bard went quiet again, giving Eskel some time to gather his thoughts. When the witcher spoke again, his voice was tight with emotion.

“I remember the day that Vesemir took me away. It was a warm summer day. Cyril and I had gone down to the river to get water, and when we came back there was commotion in the village. Everyone was gathered around a stranger – Vesemir,” Eskel added as an explanation, and Jaskier did not fail to notice the way the witcher’s voice softened as he spoke his mentor’s name, “he had taken care of a archespores in the area and had come back for payment. We didn’t have much money to offer, but I remember one of the eldest mentioned that witchers recruited young boys to join their ranks and offered up the youngest child as a reward for Vesemir’s efforts.”

Another pause during which Jaskier was able to connect the dots. His heart sank in his chest while Eskel was biting the inside of his cheek. Jaskier could sense where this tale was going.

“Cyril?”

Eskel nodded in response.

“Vesemir told me many years later that my mother was pleading with him not to take Cyril, that she would work twice as hard and get the coin herself to pay his fee if he spared her youngest son from this cruel fate. She offered Vesemir to return to the village in a year’s time and collect his reward…”

“And clearly Vesemir refused your mother’s offer?”

“They needed boys back then too fill the ranks,” Eskel supplied neutrally, “there isn’t any need for new witchers anymore, but back then demand was high and supply was scarce. Witchers commonly invoked the law of surprise, not like today. Most witchers avoid the law of surprise like the plague nowadays. Times have changed since.”

Eskel’s hand, which until then had been firmly squeezing Jaskier’s, went to rub the scarred side of his face like the witcher so often did when he felt uncomfortable or agitated. Jaskier waited patiently for Eskel to relax and continue his tale.

“I told Vesemir to take me instead. I wouldn’t let Cyril go with him. I couldn’t. He was too young. We had all heard the tales of witchers and what happens to the boys they took away to be trained. He was a sensitive boy, wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was also very fragile health wise. He was very prone to pneumonia, he nearly died of the chicken pox as a child… even if Cyril had survived the trip to Kaer Morhen, he would never have survived the training or the mutations. Of course, I didn’t know this back then, but I knew that I couldn’t let him go. I was his older brother, it was my job to protect him. In hindsight offering myself up was the best decision I ever made.”

Jaskier’s heart sank in his chest as Eskel finished his story, but at the same time the bard was honoured that the witcher had decided to share this with him. Fiercely loyal, protective Eskel who had volunteered to go with Vesemir to spare his brother the pain and misery of a life as a witcher. It would make for a great ballad, but Jaskier kept that thought to himself. It didn’t seem appropriate to mention this when Eskel was feeling so raw and vulnerable. Jaskier’s heart felt so full of love, and adoration, and respect for his lover and when their lips met again, Jaskier did his very best to convey all these feelings with a single kiss.

“My brave witcher,” Jaskier whispered against Eskel’s lips as he straddled his lover dextrously, his hands coming up to cup Eskel’s face tenderly, “I don’t think I have ever felt more in love with you than I do now.”

Eskel smiled softly, his eyes shimmering in the warm glow of the rising sun and bringing the amber of his irises to life.

“I haven’t told many people,” Eskel admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes sought Jaskier’s, “and I trust that this will stay between us. Promise me, Jaskier.”

“Oh, but I had a whole ballad and three songs already planned,” Jaskier joked, only earning himself a weak swat to the back of the head. The bard sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I vow on my honour as a bard that I won’t use your tale in any of my future ballads or poems. There, happy?”

“Very much so. Be warned, bardling, if I hear that you broke your promise…” Eskel’s hand landing a firm slap on Jaskier’s bottom pulled a surprised yelp from the bard. Eskel merely grinned at the wounded look his lover shot him.

“Hardly a threat, dear witcher…,” Jaskier teased in a sultry voice, “you make my punishment sound so sweet and enticing…”

“Hmmm,” this time when Eskel’s lips met Jaskier’s, there was nothing innocent about the kiss their shared. It was messy and desperate but complaining was the furthest thing from Jaskier’s mind. “Let me show you what you’ve got to gain if you’re a good well-behaved bard.”

Before Jaskier could react, he was being flipped onto his back as Eskel straddled him and left a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses from Jaskier’s collarbone all the way down his chest and stomach. Jaskier stuffed his fist in his mouth to muffle the loud moans that Eskel’s skilled tongue pulled from him in a conscious effort not to wake the entire keep with their lovemaking.

They say that destiny works in mysterious ways, but Jaskier had no intention of questioning Destiny’s plans so long as has he was allowed to wake up next to Eskel every day for the rest of his life.

TBC.

#whumptober2020 #no.9 #take me instead #the witcher #fic #nightmares #angst #fluff #eskel x jaskier #jaskier x eskel #jaskel #established relationship #jaskier #dandelion #eskel the witcher #eskel #soft jaskier #soft eskel

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onthepageoftears · 5 years

Text

Nights Like This (Geralt x Reader) // Witcher

A/N: I was hesitant to write this, but because it was a request I decided to try out some Geralt x reader. I hope it came out okay but lemme know what you think!

Request: @haade-s The last fic was amazing! I was wondering if I could request a Geralt x reader this time. When they're around other people (including Jaskier) she's very much like Geralt where she only replies to people with grunts or "hm" like him but when they're completely alone she just talks & talks & talks & Geralt loves hearing about all the thoughts she's had to hold in bc she hates people just as much as he does. Jaskier sneaks up on their camp & just knows they are perfect for each other 💖💖 thanks!!

Warnings: Jaskier being an idiot brother, mentions of fighting

Words: 1,091

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Being a bard’s sister was one of the hardest parts of your life.

Yes, you loved Jaskier. Yes, you would do anything for him. But sometimes, he was the biggest idiot you’ve ever met — and you had come across a lot of people while you two traveled together.

When you two were younger, your differences were astounding. You were only a year apart, but as Jaskier reached for anything that could be donned an instrument (sticks to rocks, the bell in your mother’s kitchen, sometimes even your own hair), you reached for something that could be used as a weapon. Which, to be fair, was much easier to find and use against Jaskier than any musical instrument. Jaskier was the younger sibling, and you used your older sibling advantages as much as you could. Of course, that meant beating him up whenever your parents turned around.

Soon, though, you both grew up to the adults you were. Jaskier continued his love of music, and you continued your love of fighting — sort of. You were never truly allowed to become a hunter as you wished, but you settled on becoming Jaskier’s ‘bodyguard’. You and Jaskier traveled together; he relied on you for some protection, and you relied on him for coin and his idiotic company. You were a pretty good team, though Jaskier’s rise to fame was taking a little longer than planned.

At least, until you met the Witcher. The first time you laid your eyes on him, you thought he would be trouble. You nodded your head over to the brooding man that sat alone in the corner, seeing his silence as a threat. Of course, Jaskier didn’t catch your warning at all. Instead, he ran right over to the man, introduced himself, and asked for a review.

So, yeah. Being a dimwit’s sister was one of the toughest jobs you would ever take.

By the time you got over to Jaskier, he was introducing you to the Witcher.

“This is my sister—“

“Bodyguard.” You corrected, flicking your cynical eyes to the white-haired man.

He looked back at you. “You’re siblings.”

You both nodded.

“You look nothing alike.”

“Meaning I am incredibly handsome, and Y/N here is the spitting image of a goat’s arse—“

Your whack to the back of your brother’s head made him squeal in pain.

The bold move to speak the witcher, who you learned was named Geralt, proved to be a good one. Both you and Jaskier had been trying to find some more adventure — him for the inspiration, and you for the thirst of the fight. Moving from place to place wasn’t good enough for either of you, especially without some thrills in between. But you two learned that traveling with Geralt wasn’t as fun as you thought it would be.

“Wait here.” He grunted, gesturing towards his horse. Yet again, Geralt expected you to wait around while your brother tried to compose his next song. You both decided to tag along with Geralt to get new experiences, and here you were having to watch the fights from a way too sparse of a distance.

This time, you needed to do something. “I can help.” You stepped forward, expecting another cold shoulder.

Instead, Geralt turned back around and nodded. “I know you can. Which is why I need you here.”

It was the first time Geralt trusted you with his plan. He was to lure the creature from its cave, and you were to make sure it didn’t escape. The two of you ended up fighting it together, finishing it off with two final blows of your swords.

That night, you and Geralt were sitting against the same tree near the fire.

Geralt shifted in his spot to look at your dimly lit face. “You're a good fighter.”

“I know.” You barely looked at him as he let out a predictable ‘hm’. You didn’t expect him to speak further.

“You don’t talk much,” he noted.

“Neither do you.” Geralt continued to look at you, waiting for a real answer. You shrugged and placed your hands over the fire. “Julian speaks enough for both of us.”

“He speaks enough for the city of Novigrad.”

You laughed lightly, then looked over to your brother, who lay asleep. It was true; he was the talent, and you were the muscle. It just worked that way and had for a long time. You never felt the need to share anything more about yourself, unless it was absolutely necessary. Which, to be honest, was quite rare.

But the more you spent time with Geralt, the more you felt yourself open up. It was like someone finally understood your need to fight. It was a thirst that could never be quenched, an itch that could never be scratched.

You and Geralt would talk lowly into the night, exchanging stories and experiences — though, Geralt had millions more than you did. You shared your favorite techniques, which armors worked best for which jobs, how many blades you went through in a month’s time. You felt like you hadn’t spoken this much in your whole life — as you went to sleep each night, it left a small smile on your face knowing Geralt would be there to talk to when you woke up.

You would never admit this to Jaskier, of course. He’d tease you so much you’d probably have to shove his face in a Drowner’s guts before he shut up. And even then, he might still run his mouth. But little did you know that Jaskier already knew about your long nightly talks with Geralt, and the way your face brightened hotter than the fire at your feet. Besides, you and Geralt never spoke that quietly. The first night it happened, Jaskier almost yelled at you two to shut up. But the smile on your face was enough to keep him quiet, for that night and the rest to come.

Jaskier wasn’t blind to Geralt’s affection either — when the Witcher typically spoke one to two words at a time, with you he was speaking actual, fully thought out sentences. Your brother didn't think that was possible, nor did he think you would be the one to rip those sentences out of the man.

Anyway, Jaskier dealt with your oddly satisfying affection towards one another because even though he teased you endlessly, he too wanted to see you happy. And if that meant having to watch you snuggle up with the Witcher himself by the fire, then so be it.

#the witcher #the witcher imagine #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia #reader insert #self insert imagine #jaskier #imagine #drabble #the witcher netflix #request #my writing #writing

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timetoresurface · 4 years

Text

pick up the pace (1) / park seongwha

PART ONE // PART TWO

Summary: You weren’t the type to go to college parties, but somehow you ended up at the most notorious frat of your campus. They threw the wildest parties, and were known to be the hottest fuckboys. Somehow you ended up with a crappy vampire who took an interest in you.

Genre: fluffy college au Pairing: Reader x Seonghwa Word count: 10k ( I honestly never know when to stop, and I have another 10k ready, my god )

A/N: I know nobody has asked for this fic, but why would I let that stop me? It’s a very slow fluffy college au thingy which is in contrast with the title, because I really don’t know how to pick up the pace. (one of my favourite songs of drowners, if you’re interested)

act one: “you don’t need to be stressed!” okay but consider this: i am

You picked up your hair into your usual, lazy, bun with half your hair out. You grabbed a cup of ramen noodles and poured some water into it, placing it in the microwave. You just had morning classes that followed with your afternoon job at the coffee shop. You quickly changed into your sweats, not caring about your appearance. You began to eat your noodles when your roommate Sana walked in.

“Hey. How were your classes?” She asked you without any interest in her voice. She simply asked out of politeness. You guys were more roommates than friends, but it worked for both of you. She was more outgoing and didn’t really take school too seriously. You, on the other hand, were way too invested in your academics.

“It sucked.” You told her with a mouthful of hot noodles. Why did you always buy the spicy ones? You weren’t really a fan of spicy things, but you were an idiot.

“How come?” She asked you while taking off her shoes. She hummed softly to a melody you didn’t know. She was always making up melody’s wherever she went. You did like that about her. It fits with her carefree personality.

“Someone else is top of the class. Someone dethroned me, and I don’t even know who he is.” You explained to her, frustrated. You had been the best in your class ever since you started that class. That’s six months ago, why did Someone have to take your gold? Sound like a selfish guy.

“What’s his name?”

“The teacher didn’t want to give me his name because it would spark my unhealthy competitive side.” You told her while rolling your eyes. Your competitiveness was your most charming side, or at least that’s what you thought.

“How do you know it is a he?” She asked you.

“Mistake on her part, which she deeply regrets. There are more females in our class, and I can eliminate them all. How hard can it be to find that guy?” There was no way you were letting that guy win. It was your spot, and no one else deserved it, but you. You had worked your ass off to get an almost perfect score. And apparently almost perfect was still not enough to be the best.

“I will start my mission next Monday.” You told her determined. Usually, people would get scared when you flashed them your crazy eyes, but Sana had gotten used to this side of you.

“How was work?” She asked you again while rummaging through the fridge for some food. Both of you weren’t really cooks, so food had to be ordered in most of the time. You did have fruit in your fridge. You are kind of trying to be healthy, but most importantly, ready for summer.

“Terrible.” You sighed dramatically while falling on your shared sofa. You were one of the better actresses of your town. You did play the lead in one of your school plays, and it was the one with the best reviews. Not that you’re bragging or anything.

“Everything okay?” She asked you with concern laced through her words. Sometimes you were more like a therapist and patient than roommates. She was 90% of the time taking on the therapist role, and she did it incredibly good as a psychology major. Sometimes you thought she used you secretly as a subject for her class, but you never really asked her if it was true or not. You rather not know.

“Yeah.” You mumbled softly, disappearing in your favourite blanket. You searched for the tv-remote, but Sana quickly took it before you could even locate the thing.

“You sound like you need a night out.” She stated firmly while crossing her arms. She did this every month, trying to get you outside. You usually followed her, but you never really had any fun at her party’s. They were just too loud, and to be honest, drunk people scared the living shit out of you. One second they’re fresh and talking to you, and the next second they vomit all over the place. Drunk college boys were honestly the worst. You could deal with the girls, they were nice when they were drunk.

“I need a night to catch up on some school work.” You reasoned with her, but she eyed you suspiciously. Why were you getting comfortable on the couch when you were planning to catch up on some homework? She always sees through your lazy ass.

“It’s Friday?” She asked you loudly while simultaneously pulling the blanket from your body. You glared at her, but you didn’t protest. There is no way you can fight her in this state. She’s a strong-willed person, and you were far too weak today. She knew when to fight her battles.

“Yes, it is. I respect you for knowing what day it is.” You deadpanned. Maybe she would leave you alone if you were a little bit more annoying than usual. It had never really worked.

“You’re young. You should be going out on a Friday night.” She said while throwing her arms in the air in disbelief. Or that was what she intended to do, you think. She wasn’t as great of an actor as you were. It really showed from time to time. You need to believe in your dramatics. The first rule of acting club.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because you’re young?” She stated uncertain, her confident front wavering.

“You already said that.” You had no intention to let her win easily. She would win you over eventually, but where is the fun in agreeing immediately? For all you knew, she could finally back down and let you live your fat ass in your favourite spot.

“Because you deserve some fun.” She finally said after gathering her thoughts. And you actually agreed with her, that’s why you were ready to binge-watch something on Netflix. That’s something fun you deserved.

“I don’t really think parties are fun.” You told her honestly, but she did already know that information. Once she had forced you to go to a party where you ended up being kissed against your permission, and Someone had thrown up. It was the same guy. It most definitely wasn’t the best night of your life.

“It’s a small gathering.” She told you with pleading eyes. She knew you were not immune to her puppy eyes, and she liked to use is from time to time. She barely used it, so you knew tonight meant something important to her. Sometimes you’d like to be more friends than roommates.

“I know when you’re lying. We’ve been roommates for far too long.” You told her while getting out of your spot to throw away your leftover food.

“No honestly, it’s going to be small. Last week was wild enough.” She explained while following you into the kitchen.

“Define small?” You asked her with arms crossed.

“Just my friend group with a few extras like you.” She told you with a big smile. She noticed you weren’t really putting up a fight anymore, meaning you’d probably agree to whatever she had planned.

“That actually sounds nice. You know I don’t like big parties where I can’t dance freely.” You nodded your head, pretending to be rooted in thought when you had already agreed internally.

“They will provide an extra dancing space just for you.” She told you happily, taking your arms to start dancing. You let her.

“Interesting.” You told her while moving a little to an imaginary beat as there was no music playing. You did like to dance at small gatherings.

“You need to dress up.” She finally said after both of you danced freely for a couple of minutes. Sana is not really a dancer, but she was pretty so she didn’t really need to be able to dance.

“As what?” You asked her. She did get your attention with her final sentence. party’s where you had to dress up were the best in your opinion. No one knew you, and no one would bother you. You could just drink and dance in your reserved dancing spot.

“Something Halloween related.” She shrugged her shoulders, not really caring that it was a Halloween themed party in spring.

“Halloween? It’s may? Isn’t that a bit too late?” You asked her in disbelief.

“Or too early. It depends on what your view on life is.” she shrugged again, and you couldn’t believe why she was so indifferent.

“Why Halloween? I don’t really have anything scary hanging in my closet.” You pouted softly. It would have been nice if she had given you a heads up.

“I’m just going as a cat. You don’t have to put too much effort into your costume.” She tried to comfort you, but she had to know you better by now. You liked to plan ahead, and you wanted to plan your costumes. You were a simple kind of girl.

“But that’s the fun part.” You dramatically stated, slapping your hand against your head as a special effect.

“You’ll find something. Be ready in half an hour.” She ignored your dramatics.

“But I still have to shower.” You yelled at her while she was walking toward her room to get ready.

“Better make use of these minutes you’re wasting by standing in the kitchen.” She laughed before slamming the door.

“You’re cruel.” You whispered while walking past her room to get your things.

“That I am.” She yelled, and both of you laughed. She did have a good hearing. She could’ve been a music major, but unfortunately for her did she have controlling parents who hated everything that was related to art.

act two: i have feelings for u. not telling u which ones.

“I’ve got to say you do work better with a time limit.” Your roommate said when she saw your costume. It was nothing too extravagant, but it was all you could do in such a short period. “But I’ve got to ask you, why are you doing your make-up when your face will be covered?” She asked you while tilting her head, trying to figure you out.

“If it gets too hot underneath my blanket, I still want to look presentable.” You told her matter of factly. Your costume was just a white blanket you had found in your closet. You had cut out a face, and voila. You’re a ghost.

“Smart.” She said while putting on her shoes. Sana looked incredibly good, and her outfit told you it was going to be more party-minded than small gathering. It didn’t really matter anymore as you were almost ready to go. Sana had on a black dress that showed of everything she got to offer without it being slutty. She didn’t have a tail, but she did put on cat ears and painted her face to match the look.

“You look good.” You complimented her when you finished your make-up. She blushed slightly, and you thought it was cute. She really wanted to look good for Someone, and you were going to figure out who it was. Sana doesn’t do dating or pining for a guy. This must be a first.

“You look incredible yourself.” She said when you were examining yourself in the mirror. You did look good. You also wore a simple black dress, but not as tight fitted as Sana’s. Yours was more the casual kind with a little twist. When you put on your blanket, it did look like you weren’t really wearing anything underneath, but it didn’t bother you. Sana had on high heels, but you weren’t that kind of girl. You did like heels, but you were a messy drunk, and you didn’t want to break your legs. You opted for simple white sneakers that matched your ghostly outfit.

“We do look good.” You said out loud while exiting your apartment. Sana laughed softly while she was sipping from a cheap bottle of wine.

“Can I also have some?” You asked her uncertain. She didn’t really like to share her drinks. Not that you minded as you usually don’t try to drink too much when going out.

“You’re drinking tonight?” She asked you worried.

“Yes, otherwise I’ll start thinking.” You explained to her, and she handed you the bottle. You took the bottle in both your hands and downed half the bottle in one go.

“I’m not carrying you home tonight.”

“I also don’t want you to carry me. I still have the bruise from last month when you decided to bridal style me.” You giggled already feeling the alcohol in your system.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She told you while putting her arm over your shoulders. “You’re going to be the cutest ghost at the party.”

“You’re going to be the cutest cat at the party.”

“I was going for sexy, but I’ll take it.”

The party was located just a little bit further away from your apartment. It was a frat house where all Sana’s friends were in. It was a shame it was only for boys; otherwise, Sana had already moved out of your shared apartment. When you arrived at the party, you were surprised that there was a line outside. It might have been one of the weirdest things you had ever seen. The sun was softly setting while a line of dressed-up cats and vampires were waiting outside a white picket fence house.

“Sana! You made it.” San screamed, storming out of the house while wearing a tiger suit. Not very Halloween related, but he did look good in the onesie. Who were you kidding? He did look good in everything and anything. It’s unfair, really.

“Of course. Did you ever doubt me?” Sana smiled at San before hugging him.

“No, but I doubted Y/N.” San spoke, hugging you. You did like the fact he recognized you through your ridiculous blanket. You were flattered.

“It has been five weeks, so I thought it was a good time to show my face again.” You joked, letting him go before it got too awkward for a friendly hug.

“Have you been drinking?” He asked you while eying the two of you suspiciously. You looked Sana in the eyes before confirming his suspicion.

“I’ll make you your favourite drink,” San told you while putting his arm over your shoulder, letting you inside. You felt the stares of some people on your back. Why was the hottest frat guy letting a ghost inside when there was a huge line waiting outside? A line filled with sexy cats.

“So, what’s going on?” San asked you while handing you a drink he had just mixed. It was a simple vodka orange, but you really liked the drink. You loved it when San made one for you. You loved it that he remembered what you wanted.

“Nothing much.” You told him honestly. You wanted to shrug your shoulders but didn’t want to seem too pathetic. You did enjoy your life, maybe not to the fullest, but you did do fun stuff.

“Life is more than just existing, you know?” He told you. His eyes were scanning the crowd, and you felt him leaving you. This always happened when you went to these parties. He would be sweet and all over you at first, but when he noticed some fresh meat in his house, he would bolt. Not that anything was going on between the two of you, but you would like for something to be going on.

“You sound like Sana.” You laughed, trying to get his attention back. Maybe you should’ve dressed up as a sexy vampire too. Perhaps he wouldn’t be scanning the crowd but examining your body.

“Maybe you should listen to her.” He told you after taking a long sip of whatever he was drinking. He liked his liquor strong, so it was probably something that should be mixed with a soft drink.

“What’s up in your life?” You asked him softly. You hated how insecure you sounded when San was near.

“We’ve been busy organizing this party, and I’ve been studying.” He told you, finally making eye contact.

“You? Studying?” You asked him with a shocked expression, hiding the blush that was showing in your cheeks.

“Don’t be so surprised. I do study from time to time. I don’t want to be here forever.” He explained after taking another long sip from his cup. Something was going on with him tonight. He’s usually not drinking as much as he was doing now. He did plan this party, and when you organize something you probably shouldn’t be getting drunk.

“That’s not what you said three parties ago.” You joked.

“People change.” He commented, and boy did you hope he could change and recognize your potential. His eyes were fixed on other people again, a very very sexy vampire to be more correct.

“They can change their habits, but you can not change your core.” You told him, trying to hide your disappointment. Maybe you should give up on San, and try to find a guy yourself in this place. But how could you when San looked so adorable in his tiger suit.

“That’s depressing.” He said monotonously. His head had already left your conversation, but his body was still present.

“I’m a ghost. I’ve seen things, you know.” You tried to lighten the mood, but San wasn’t having it.

“I’m going to look around. See if people are not breaking our stuff.”

“Catch you later.” You told him while he was already out of earshot. He made a straight line to above mentioned sexy vampire, and you had to look away. It wasn’t always like this, you know. There was a time where you and San were kind of best friends. He would study with you in the library. Well, you studied while he was playing games. There was a time where you both went out for dinner and roamed the streets looking for something to do. And suddenly it all changed. He started to ignore you, but he always had an excuse, though. It’s around the same time where he began to fuck his way around campus, making him the number one single guy that girls wanted to tame. But you can’t really tame a tiger. You can change some of its habits, and you can learn it some tricks, but it will never lose its instinct.

You quickly drowned your drink before making your way to the dance floor. There weren’t a lot of people dancing, but that’s how you like your dance floors. You love them to be empty, so you had space to move. You liked the fact that if you simply enjoyed yourself, other people also wanted to dance to get to your level of happiness. You started to make your way to the dance floor when Sana stopped you.

“Y/N! There you are.” She yelled, already looking a bit too tipsy.

“Here I am.” You stated dryly because you really wanted to dance. You weren’t in the mood for talking.

“Please dance with me. The guy I like is here, and I want to show him what he’s missing.” She was slightly slurring, but it did make her look cute. It’s like everything in the world. If it was a bad look on anyone else, Sana made it work for her. She had this gift.

“You like someone?” You asked her with shock written all over your face. Sana doesn’t do dating. She does guys.

“Now is not the time for an explanation. Be my wing woman, please.” She begged you while dragging you to the open space. You followed her and started to dance. You threw your hands in the air and started to shake your whole body to the beat. You almost forgot Sana was dancing right beside you, but she was way too obvious. Her eyes were constantly scanning the crowd while she forgot to move to the rhythm.

“Don’t be so obvious. Dance with me.” You whispered into her ear. You took hold of her hands and spun her around. She quickly forgot her worries and started to have fun with you. It only lasted for a couple of minutes before a guy made his way over to her. He had also brought a friend, but he didn’t really want to be here. You were actually quite sure he didn’t want to be here in this room. His friend was dancing, but he remained still. He did look good, but it was the kind of good-looking where he knew he was handsome.

Sana and the fun guy started to dance together, leaving you alone with the statue. You tried not to care too much, but he was bringing down your vibe. But you couldn’t just go, you had promised to be Sana’s wing woman, and once you take an oath, you stick it out to the end. Or that’s what Rihanna says, and you always listen to Rihanna.

“I’m Seonghwa.” The statue suddenly introduced himself to you.

“Okay.” You told him trying to get into the rhythm of the music.

“What’s your name.” He asked you, still not moving to the beat.

“Casper, the friendly ghost.” The only reason you stayed in his orbit was so Sana could have some alone time with her man.

“That’s a long name, and strangely related to your outfit.” He told you, but he didn’t seem amused. He didn’t really look like the type to smile. He looked more the brooding kind of person. Sitting in a dark room while plotting to kill his worst enemy.

“You’re not even wearing an outfit.” You told him, eying him from his face to his feet, trying to understand the situation. He did have a beautiful body. He was dressed in all black, and you did like your guys to be covered in skinny jeans and leather jackets.

“I have teeth to match the black outfit.” He told you. He must think the only remarkable feature of a vampire was the teeth.

“I still don’t know what you’re supposed to be.” You played dumb.

“A vampire.” He told you, rolling his eyes in the process.

“Okay.” You told him trying to get into the rhythm of the music, again. It’s like he sucked all the fun out of the room with just his presence. There weren’t a lot of people who could do that, but he was the star.

“I’m getting a drink, would you like one?” He asked you after a couple minutes of silence. You quickly nodded your head, but he didn’t seem satisfied.

“What would you like?” He asked you annoyed. Since when do people ask what the other wants to drink. Just get them something. We’re all just trying to get drunk here.

“Anything is fine.” You told him, turning your back to him so you could finally start enjoying the music. You looked for Sana, but she was nowhere to be seen. Good for her, you thought. You did feel a little left out as all the girls were wearing something pretty, and you were covered in a blanket. Maybe you should stop caring what other people think, and finally enjoy yourself. You really did hate parties. They always made you feel like you weren’t part of anything.

Finally, you were dancing. You were shaking your body while laughing, and it felt like you were all alone in the room. But the right kind of alone, where you’re satisfied with purely existing. That existing did get you worked up, and the blanket was soon too much for you to handle. You quickly threw the white sheet of your head and wrapped it around your waist. It felt like you could finally breathe. You wanted it to be like the smell of the air after rain, but it smelled like sweat and alcohol. Still, it was better than suffocating under your costume.

Suddenly you felt some hands snaking around your waist, but you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. When San had a bit too much to drink, he would always come dancing with you. His hands would always find their way to your body, and you didn’t mind at all.

“You look really pretty tonight,” San whispered into your ear, leaving goosebumps all over your body. You turned around and were met with his hungry eyes. He’s never really showed you this side of him, but you were intrigued.

“I’m sorry. Here’s your drink.” Seonghwa interrupted the moment. If you didn’t hate him already, you certainly did now. Why did he have to ruin such a perfect moment? San’s eyes quickly lit up when they landed on Seonghwa, and you couldn’t understand why?

“Hi, Seonghwa,” San said happily. You didn’t know they actually knew each other, but apparently, they did. San knows everybody, and everybody knows San. That’s the golden rule of this place.

“Thanks.” You said before taking the drink that was offered to you. It was vodka mixed with something, and you were actually impressed he didn’t bring you beer or wine.

“If you don’t like it the kitchen is over there,” Seonghwa told you while pointing towards the designated drink station. San laughed beside you, but you simply glared at him.

“I know. I’ve been here before.” You told him firmly. Who the hell was he?

“You have?” Seonghwa asked, not even trying to hide his shocked expression.

“It has been a while since you were here.” San entered the conversation, but you didn’t listen to him. Seonghwa has gotten under your skin, and you weren’t the type to back down.

“Surprised?” You turned your body to Seonghwa while asking him.

“I would’ve recognized you if you were regular.” He simply stated, taking a sip from his red cup. There was a sparkle in his eyes and boy, did you hate that mischievous sparkle.

“Is that a compliment?” You asked him, eying him suspiciously. What was he trying to get out of this situation? He seemed to be rooted in thought, and it didn’t make him look smart if he had to think this long for such a simple question.

“You can take it as a compliment.” He finally said after a few seconds of silence. San was silently examining the two of you, but you were too busy to examine his expression. You simply scoffed at Seonghwa’s answer and made your way to the kitchen. His eyes followed you as you had hoped. You remained eye contact when you drained the whole drink in the sink. A small smile appeared on his face, and it did make him look 100% more attractive, but you tried to ignore it.

“Why are you pouring out a perfectly good drink?” Someone asked you, and you recognized it to be one of Sana’s friends. You think his name was Yunho, but you weren’t sure.

“It wasn’t my taste.” You simply told him while pouring yourself a new drink.

“Always a troublemaker.” He grinned. You silently took a sip of your drink while Yunho was eying you. Both of you stood there for a couple of minutes before Seonghwa made his way over to the kitchen.

“You should’ve told me you what you wanted.” He whispered into your ear, sending shivers over your body. You didn’t like the fact that he was having an effect on you.

“Seonghwa. I didn’t think you would still be here. You usually bolt when the house is full.” Yunho exclaimed in surprise when Seonghwa was done annoying you.

“I feel like staying a little longer tonight,” Seonghwa said with his eyes locked on you.

“You guys want to dance?” Yunho asked both of you while softly moving out of the kitchen. You quickly nodded your head before following him. Yunho was a great dancer, and like you, didn’t really mind acting a bit weird on the dance floor. You felt Someone’s hands on your waist the moment you started dancing, but you didn’t care, thinking it was San again. After a couple of minutes, you noticed San kissing Someone else on the other side of the room, and you quickly turned around. In the end, sexy vampires always won.

“You.” You stated with venom in your voice. Seonghwa just shrugged, and kept his hands on your body, guiding you through the rhythm. He was actually a good dancer, and you were impressed. Why couldn’t he dance like this when you first met?

“I don’t mind making him jealous,” Seonghwa whispered into your ear, still moving your body with his hands. You couldn’t move on your own. Seeing San kiss somebody else always hurt. It wasn’t the first time you had seen it, but it still left a nasty taste in your mouth.

“What?” You asked Seonghwa.

“Use me to make San jealous. Isn’t that the guy you like?” He told you with his hand cupping your face.

“How?” You asked him, moving his hand off your face. It felt way too intimate with the way he looked at you. You barely knew the guy.

“You’re not very subtle.” He laughed softly, turning you around in his arms. Your back was now pressed against him while he kept moving your body to the beat.

“What?” You asked him, moving your head to look up at him.

“You’re eyes light up when he’s near.” He explained in your ear, leaving you breathless for a moment.

“You’ve known me for five minutes, and you think you can read me?” You asked him, shocked. Who was he to understand your feelings? Even Sana didn’t know about your little unhealthy crush on the fine young man she called her friend.

“If you don’t want to use me, that’s fine.” Seonghwa said while removing his hands from your body. You immediately missed the warmth and turned around to face him again.

“No.” You said quickly, putting his hands on your waist again. This time you placed your hands around his neck and moved your body close enough for him to feel every curve.

“That’s more like it.” His low voice was very close to your ear, surprising you. You looked at him, but he was already looking at you. His eyes softened a little bit, but you felt his hands scanning your body. Surprisingly, you didn’t mind Seonghwa touching you. It was oddly comforting and oddly familiar.

“San is fucking weird for not wanting you. If a girl like you looked at me like that, I would do everything in my power to make her happy.” He said after dancing to a couple of songs. To be honest, you didn’t care what music they were playing. You were so lost in the presence of Seonghwa, you didn’t mind moving wrongly to the beat.

“Is this a confession, Seonghwa?” You asked him softly while your hands were locked in his dark black hair. The moment you touched his hair, you didn’t want to let go. It was so soft, and this combined with his smell, made you lose a sense of what to do in situations like this.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much.” He whispered into your ear, breaking eye contact. His lips softly brushed against your skin, leaving you shuddering in want. “But I think this is working.” He said while is hands started to explore your body again. He was close to your ass but seemed to hold himself back. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He might seem a bit straightforward, but he didn’t want to make you feel awkward. He didn’t want to use you, and you felt grateful.

“Thank you.” You whispered into his ear, and you felt him tensing up beneath you. He quickly tore his body of you, leaving you confused.

“I’ll see you around.” He told you before leaving you alone on the dance floor, confused. Why did he go so suddenly? You were actually having fun with him. Did he really spend time with you just to make San jealous? Wasn’t he enjoying himself while dancing with you?

act three: *pats my own shoulder* it’s gonna be okay dumb bitch

“You’re home late.” You said when Sana entered your shared apartment the next morning. You couldn’t sleep due to alcohol and a boy named Seonghwa, so you were up early. “Or early. It kind of depends on your perspective.” You laughed when you saw her shocked expression. Her make-up was gone, and she had her shoes in hand. She looked like the definition of a walk of shame.

“Before you judge me. I didn’t do anything sexual. We actually talked all night and fell asleep. Wooyoung is a real gentleman.” She stated, trying to defend herself. Which she has never really done before. Usually, she would tell you about the guy’s penis and if he could work with it or not.

“You still kissed him as your lipstick is smudged.” You laughed. She went to sit next to you on the couch while holding your hand. She had a lovesick look on her face, and it looked adorable on her. Any other girl would seem a bit pathetic, but as always Sana made it work.

“It wasn’t a sexual kiss. It was a passionate yet soft kiss.” She explained while hearts were flying out of her eyes. She was in love, and she couldn’t hide it any longer.

“You’re living the romantic comedy life. I’ve never seen you so soft.”

“Don’t get used to it.” She stated before walking to the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts again. Your thoughts consisted of San kissing Someone else passionately, and Seonghwa leaving you alone on the dance floor when things were finally starting. He said it had worked to make San jealous, but you hadn’t seen San afterwards. He probably went to fuck that sexy vampire, so Seonghwa’s little game hadn’t worked in your opinion.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Sana asked coming out of the bathroom, freshly washed in her pink pyjamas.

“Nothing.” You told her trying to hide the blush that crept over your face.

“Is it maybe the guy from last night?” She tried again, and you couldn’t hide your blush anymore.

“Do you know him?” You asked her uncertain. You never really talked about guys with Sana. She told you her stories, but you never really did.

“Seonghwa? Everyone knows him.” She told you, turning on the tv.

“That doesn’t sound good.” You told her trying to get more comfortable under your blanket. Sana put on something random about blind dating on Netflix, but you weren’t really paying attention.

“He’s a nice guy. He’s in the frat, but not really party-minded.” She told you, and you simply hummed in acknowledgement. That’s something you had already figured out.

“I’m sorry if he bothered you,” Sana told you apologetically, but you quickly shook your head.

“It’s fine. It did give you some alone time with Wooyoung.” You told her finally looking at her, and you noticed her already looking at you. She was studying your face, but you put on your best poker face.

“And I’m really thankful.” She told you before returning her attention to the large television.

“He’s actually quite a playboy. Don’t worry too much about the things he might have said.” She started the conversation again you so desperately wanted to drop.

“He seemed like an asshole.” You told her earnestly.

“Really?” She asked you, but you simply nodded your head again. She didn’t seem to know what to say after your remark.

“I don’t want to go to work.” You told Sana after watching two episodes of the dating program. It had drained all the energy out of your body, and both of you hated the program, but couldn’t stop watching. That’s the problem with reality TV, but also the beauty of it. You could forget everything for a moment while you watched a TV show that reduced the cells in your brain.

“Don’t go.”

“I need the money to afford this apartment.” You whined before getting up from the comfortable couch. “Don’t you dare watch the other episodes without me.” You told her on your way to the bathroom to freshen up.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She laughed while continuing to watch the episode you told her not to watch without you. You didn’t really mind, though. You would’ve watched without her too if she was the one leaving.

“What can I get you?” You asked the customer before you. He seemed to be in deep thought, but you were used to it. The place you worked had the weirdest coffee names in history, and people always took five minutes before deciding witch poison they would like.

“I’d like a venomous teaser.” The customer told you uncertain, and you knew he wouldn’t be coming here again. Some people loved the weird names, and others would just like to order an americano without having to call it something else.

“Coming right up.” You told him in your fake customer voice. He did seem to relax a bit more by your kindness.

“Venomous teaser.” You called out, and the guy quickly took the drink you offered him and bolted straight through the door. You were left alone in the shop as there were no other employees or customers.

At first, you hated being alone in a shop that wasn’t yours, but you grew to like it. You could choose the music. You could sing and dance to your heart’s delight. It was actually quite freeing. This could only happen on Saturday morning shifts as this was the moment no one really came in for a cup of coffee. Most students on campus were sleeping or recovering from last night. Professors weren’t seen during the weekends, probably spending their free time with their families.

“Wow, you dance way better than you can sing.” Someone said out loud before entering the shop. You turned around, looking straight into the eyes of the main character of your thoughts.

“Hi San! What are you doing here?” You smiled. You always smiled when you saw San. He always looked good, and he always made you feel really good. Have you ever met someone who radiates warmth like the sun on a spring day? Well, to you, San was like a ray of sunshine, warming you up to your core.

“I wanted to surprise you.” He told you excitedly.

“What can I get you?” You asked him when he didn’t elaborate more. You also didn’t know what to say. San hasn’t visited you for over two months. Why did he so suddenly enter the coffeeshop now?

“Whatever you think is worthy for my tiny hangover.” He smiled while leaning on the counter. He was dressed in comfortable clothing, but to you, he still looked like he just came from the catwalk. He once received an offer to model for some unknown company, but he refused. He was shyer back then. If Someone asked him today, he would probably accept.

“Coming right up.” You told him while staring his drink. An iced coffee would be best for his upset stomach. Something that wasn’t too strong. He kept looking at you while you were making his drink, and you started to get uncomfortable.

“So, you and Seonghwa?” San suddenly asked you, and you couldn’t hide the shock on your face. Had he seen you dancing with Seonghwa? Had he seen that your hands were curled into his hair while dancing rather seductively.

“What about Seonghwa?” You asked him shyly. You couldn’t look him into the eyes. He could always see right through you after years of knowing each other.

“You seemed to like his presence.” He told you softly, and you couldn’t figure out what his issue was. Could he be jealous? Probably not. He’s not the type to get jealous, and you should’ve figured that out yesterday when Seonghwa suggested making San jealous.

“Not really. He’s kind of rude.” You told him honestly. Yes, you thought he was hot. That didn’t mean you thought highly of him. Your body and brain were two separate identities.

“I’ve known Seonghwa for a while now. He usually doesn’t talk to someone he doesn’t know for that long.” San explained his thought process.

“Oh, we were both the chosen wingmen for our friends. Sana and Wooyoung are courting each other.” You told San while finishing up his drink.

“Oh.” Was the only thing he said.

“Here’s your drink.” You gave him his iced coffee, but he didn’t seem to care about the drink.

“So, you don’t like him?” He asked you again, making you frustrated. Why did he suddenly care about your life?

“Why is this information so important to you?” You asked him with your annoyance barely hidden.

“Because you never like anyone.” He told you after taking a sip from the coffee.

“How do you know? You only see me at parties. You don’t know what I do and don’t do outside of these events.” You readily blamed him. The first weeks were hard when he decided to ditch you for one night stands, but after a while, you got used to it thanks to Sana. But you still felt a bit mad toward him, even though he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Everyone had the right to decide who could play an active part in their life, and San had decided you weren’t good enough anymore. That’s life, but you would’ve liked an explanation.

“Is there anyone you like?” He asked you softly, trying to read your reaction. Luckily for you, you had mastered the art of the poker face.

“Again, why is this so important to you?” You asked him harshly. He dropped his shoulders before answering your question. He looked like a beaten dog, but you didn’t feel guilty.

“Can I not care about my best friend?” He told you softly, trying to maintain the eye contact you decided to avoid.

“We haven’t been best friends for months now.” You told him, turning your body to clean something imaginary. You heard him scoff before he left you alone. Maybe Seonghwa’s tactic had worked and did you actually make San jealous with your behaviour of last night.

act four: men are attractive only if they are completely and absolutely unattainable

Fuck. You were going to be late to class. You didn’t want the professor to think you were late due to not being the top of your class anymore. On the contrary, you wanted to show your dedication to the subject. You wanted to show her that you were way better than the other person that had dethroned you.

“Hold the door.” You yelled through the hallway. The student who wanted to close the door looked startled by your loud voice. He didn’t close the door, so you were incredibly thankful.

“Thank you so so so much.” You told him while entering the classroom. The class hadn’t started yet, but everyone seemed to be present. You hated being one of the last ones to enter as your usual spot would be taken. You didn’t like sitting in the back as you couldn’t see the screen very well, but you also hated being in front because you thought everyone was looking at you. You decided to take a seat at the front as not too many people were there. You didn’t want to be distracted by other people who didn’t take this class seriously. They would just scroll through tinder or Instagram without taking notes, and you didn’t really want to be associated with any of that.

“Look who we have here?” Someone spoke up when you had just finished taking out your iPad for note-taking. You turned around and were surprised to see Seonghwa. He wore the same kind of clothing like the last time you had seen him. Black and comfortable. He didn’t wear the vampire teeth today though.

“Seonghwa?” You asked, shocked. You had never seen the man in this class before. Well, you couldn’t really tell who was in your class, but you would’ve recognized Seonghwa. Or so you thought.

“Don’t be so surprised.” He said while taking the seat next to you. You felt everyone’s eyes on the two of you, but you tried to ignore it.

“What are you doing?” You asked him. A guy like him wasn’t the type of person to just sit casually next to you.

“I’m taking this seat.” He stated before taking out his laptop. He probably just used it for playing games instead of taking notes. You hoped he would at least be quietly playing.

“Why?” You asked him again. Some girls changed their seats to sit closer to Seonghwa, and your point was proven. Someone like Seonghwa doesn’t just sit next to someone like you. Suddenly the front rows were filled with more people.

“If you don’t want to sit next to me, just say so.” He told you not trying to hide his annoyance with you. Some people greeted him, but he seemed to ignore every one of his fangirls. Which they didn’t really take well.

“It’s fine.” You ended the conversation. The teacher had just entered, and you hated to miss a moment of class because of a rowdy neighbour.

“But please, keep your entourage quiet.” You ended the conversation.

“They’re not my friends.” He told you loudly, making some people turn their heads in surprise.

“Do they know?” You asked him softly, not trying to make more people notice the two of you talking.

“Some people just want attention, and my attention you have to earn.” He quickly explained while simultaneously taking notes.

“I didn’t do anything to earn your attention.” You remarked, which resulted in him giving you a small smile. Your competitiveness ass liked the fact he had given you a smile and a response and didn’t even glance at the other girls trying to get recognition.

“True. So be quiet. I’m trying to pay attention.” He told you, and you simply scoffed. You had asked him to be quiet first, but you couldn’t help but smile.

It was challenging to listen to the teachers’ words when Seonghwa’s hands were distracting you. He kept typing on his laptop, and you quickly learned he was actually writing everything down what the teacher had said. He even added some remarks of himself. You were surprised to learn that Seonghwa was actually a good student. He lived in a frat house that threw the wildest parties on campus. He was apparently known as a semi fuck boy. And he wasn’t really nice at all. So yes, you were surprised he actually went to class, let alone take excellent notes you would want to copy.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked you after you stared at his hands for the tenth time under an hour. His hands were a perfect representation of his handsomeness. He’s slim, muscular with an almost perfectly symmetrical face. Everyone seemed to love him, they seem to be drawn to him. You noticed it with your friend San at the party. You see it here in the auditorium, where everyone seems to hang on his every word, and reciprocating his smile. If he wanted he could have more friends than days in a year, but somehow he sat next to you. Somehow he had kept by your side at the party, not wanting to interact with anyone else.

“No.” You quickly recovered your thoughts, taking a look at your almost blank note app. You sighed and returned your attention to the teacher. Seonghwa stopped typing for a while, giving you some space to get into the zone of note-taking. You felt his eyes on you, but you barely noticed his intense stare.

Class was quickly over after you had found your rhythm again. You had ignored Seonghwa for the remainder and kept on taking notes like your life depended on it. It actually did, you really needed to be top of your class as this was the only lesson you could excel in. You needed to have an almost perfect average to get to your favourite internship.

“Have you talked to San?” Seonghwa asked you when you were putting all your stuff in your bag. You looked up at him in surprise. He was all packed and ready to go but waited for you to follow him.

“I’ve seen him.” You told him, speeding up your packing process.

“And?” He asked you again, waiting for a more juicy story, but there wasn’t really one.

“I don’t really know him anymore.” You confessed to him. Apparently, Seonghwa was the only one you could talk about this stuff. You didn’t want to burden Sana with your crush on one of her friends. You also didn’t know many people outside of the frat house, which made talking about San a bit awkward.

“Well, I do, and I can say he was most definitely jealous. He has asked me hundredth of questions about you. He has never been interested in the girls I’ve danced with.” Seonghwa explained to you, but you were more interested in his girls.

“Do you dance with other girls? I thought you only took them upstairs?” You asked him while winking at him. He looked amused by your behaviour, and he suddenly changed into a more relaxed person.

“I was polite. He’s never been interested in the girls I hook up with.” He laughed while remaining eye contact. You had left the auditorium, walking toward the exit of the building. You didn’t have any other classes today, but your shift would start in an hour. You didn’t know if Seonghwa still had classes, but you didn’t ask. Not wanting the moment to end. It was nice to talk to someone.

“Because we didn’t hook up.” You told him, pointing at the two of you while simultaneously shaking your head.

“I don’t think San knows that.” Seonghwa told you, holding open the door for you. You thanked him softly before making your way outside. He could be nice if he wanted to apparently.

“He was too busy shoving his tongue in another girl’s throat.” You said, stopping in front of the building you just exited.

“I think if we continue what we started last Friday, we can make him realize he actually likes you too.” Seonghwa told you, shoving his hands in his pockets. How his big hands could fit into the tiny pockets of his skinny jeans was beyond you.

“Why would you do that? What’s in it for you?” You asked him suspiciously. You mimicked his behaviour by hiding your hands in your hoodie.

“Maybe I could get rid of my fuck boy image.” He told you honestly, and you couldn’t hold in your laughter. Did he realize how ridiculous he sounded? A fuck boy could never get rid of his title.

“But you are a fuck boy.” You told him a matter of factly, and you thought you saw hurt crossing over his eyes, but he quickly covered it up.

“I’m actually not a fuck boy, thank you very much.” He told you defensively.

“What are you?” You asked him genuinely interested in his answer. Somehow you wanted to know more about the boy named Seonghwa. He’s just a walking contradiction, and not in a profound way. He just seemed to be someone who still hadn’t figured himself out. And that’s okay, not everyone knew what they wanted in life. Including you, but you felt like you were on a better track than Seonghwa.

“I always think I’m in love and realize too late that I’m actually not.” He told you while avoiding your eyes. It was weird to see Seonghwa so shy and vulnerable, but it did tickle your interest.

“Love isn’t for everyone, you know.” You told him softly. He looked up and his eyes connected with yours, both of you smiling. To other people, it might look like you two were something more than acquaintances.

“That’s depressing.” He finally said, hiding his smile, but he couldn’t fool you anymore.

“I never said I was good company.” You laughed while crossing your arms. You actually needed to go to your part-time job, but something was keeping you here. That thing being Seonghwa.

“I never thought you were.” He said so quickly you almost believed him, but the look in his eyes told you he was just teasing you. Or at least, you hoped.

“That hurts. I thought you wanted to date me.” You said while pretending to be hurt by his words. You pouted while glaring at him, but he seemed unfazed.

“Fake dating.” He emphasized.

“Potato, potato.” You shrugged. “As much as I like standing in front of buildings, I really need to go.” You told him while waving your hand, signalling you were leaving him.

“Wait.” He said a bit too loudly, making people turn their heads. You turned around, giving him a confused look.

“I’ll walk you.” He explained while walking up to you.

“You don’t have to.” You told him softly with blushing cheeks.

“If we’re going to fake date, we’ve got to make it believable.” He told you determinately.

“I actually don’t want to fake date.” You confessed silently, not wanting to hurt his feeling or anything. He seemed so pleased with the fake dating thing, but you really weren’t a fan.

“Am I not handsome enough for your high standards?” He joked, and your body finally relaxed. He didn’t seem like the type of person to push other people into doing something they were uncomfortable with.

“It’s not that, but I’ve read many stories and watched many movies. It’s never a good idea to fake date.” You explained.

“Are you scared you’ll fall in love with me?” He laughed while poking your side teasingly. You couldn’t control your laugh when his hands touched your side.

“I’m more scared that you’ll fall in love with me. You just confessed to me that you easily fall in love.” You told him when he had stopped attacking your sides.

“Touché.” He ended the conversation while maintaining his spot next to you. You were almost at the coffee shop you worked at, and you didn’t know what Seonghwa was going to do when you finally got to your destination.

“Let’s be friends.” He suddenly spoke up. You stopped walking and just stared at him. Why would Someone like him want to be friends with someone like you? Like you had stated before if he wished he could have more friends than days in a year.

“I don’t really take any applications at the moment, but I’ll consider if you’re worthy enough.” You told him, and you started walking again, leaving him behind. He quickly jogged to your side, not wanting to miss a moment of the conversation.

“How long will it take?” He asked you eagerly.

“Usually two to five business days.” You shrugged, keeping your cool.

“Is there a way to speed up the process?” His question caught you off guard. Why was he so determined to be your friend? What game was he playing?

“That’s something for you to figure out.” You told him, stopping in front of the coffee shop you worked at.

“Can I get a hint?” He pleaded with his eyes big and eager. You hadn’t seen him like this before, and your cold heart melted just a little bit.

“I trust you can do this on your own.” You told him while opening the door. He followed you inside. “My shift starts in a couple of minutes. Are you planning to help out?” You asked him abruptly.

“I could use a coffee.” He simply stated.

“You can order there.” You pointed at the right spot to order where your coworker was playing on her phone.

“I’ll wait until you start working.” He said, and you looked puzzled by his words. “It gives me some time to think about what I want.” He explained quickly. You nodded your head and made your way to the back room.

“Do you know Seonghwa?” The girl who’s shift was about to end asked you. You simply nodded your head, not wanting to draw too much attention to your blossoming friendship with the handsome man.

“Can you like introduce me to him? He’s just so damn dreamy.” She kept on talking while you were changing into your work clothes. You had never really spoken to her. Well, you had tried but she usually just ignored you. You didn’t really know what to do with this attention she was giving you.

“I don’t really know him that well, to be honest.” You confessed to her, but she didn’t want to take no for an answer.

“I just tried to get him to order with me, but he was waiting until you started working. You seem to know each other pretty well to me.” She spat.

“He probably just needs some time to think. We don’t have the most basic orders here.” You tried to fight yourself out of the awkward situation. You put on your cap and made your way to the bar. Seonghwa’s face lit up once he noticed you in your work outfit.

“Never wear a cap again.” He joked, but you simply glared at him. You felt the eyes of your coworker on your back, but as always you tried to ignore them.

“What can I get you?” You asked him politely, and he seemed taken aback by your change of attitude.

“What can you recommend?” He asked you softly while looking at the menu over your head. You had carefully written the menu on the chalkboard a couple weeks ago.

“I don’t know what you like.” You told him.

“I like something sweet.” He said while winking at you, and your heart almost combusted by his cuteness. Why was he doing these things to you? What did these things work on you?

“Okay, I can work with that.” You smiled softly at him while prepping his order.

“Are you coming to the party this Friday?” He asked with his elbows propped on the bar while his head rested on his hands. Your coworker nearly choked on her drink, but Seonghwa ignored her presence altogether.

“I usually don’t go for two weeks in a row.” You explained to him while giving him his iced coffee with some whipped cream.

“But I’ll be there.” He pleaded with his adorable puppy eyes.

“You live there. I hope you’re there.” Was all you said.

“Isn’t that enough reason for you to come?” His lips formed into a pout, but you remained calm and unfazed by his actions. You never went out two weeks in a row, and Seonghwa wasn’t going to change your routine.

“I’ll be going.” Your coworker suddenly entered the conversation. You and Seonghwa both looked at her with questionable eyes.

“See, you’ll have company.” You tried to cut through the awkward atmosphere that had formed.

“Do you know anyone to get in? It’s more like a private event this Friday.” Seonghwa quickly dismissed the girl’s self invitation.

“I know you, maybe you can get me in?” She asked him seductively. You noticed she had popped open a button or two extra of her shirt. You rolled your eyes at her behaviour and noticed Seonghwa wasn’t affected by her tries at all.

“I’m already taking Y/N.” He told her off, turning his attention back to you. A small smile appeared on his face, but you quickly shook your head.

“Seonghwa, I already told you I’m not going.” You pleaded with him?. You really didn’t want to go.

“Please?” He asked you softly.

“No!” You practically yelled at him.

“For me?” His low voice making you doubt your persistence. Would it be so bad to go for two weeks in a row to a party? You were a good student. Everyone knew that.

“Why?” You challenged him.

“Because I enjoy your company.” He looked please by your question, noticing your wall crumbling down.

“Because I don’t open some extra buttons of my blouse when you’re near?” You asked him sarcastically, and you heard your coworker cough in the background. Served her right. Karma’s a bitch.

“I wouldn’t mind if you popped them open.” Seonghwa seductively said while winking at you, but you quickly covered your chest.

“Seonghwa!” You yelled at him, but a smile showed him you weren’t mad at him for this dumb comment.

“I’m sorry, but please, think about it. I’ll add your name to the list.” He told you, taking a drink of the cold beverage.

“Two to five business days.” You simply told him.

“See ya!” He yelled out before exiting the coffee shop with his iced coffee in hand. Your eyes followed him out until he couldn’t be seen anymore. Your coworker left the shop while glaring at you, but you didn’t care. You were actually quite pleased with yourself for once.

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez college au #Seonghwa fic #park seongwha #seonghwa fanfic #collega au #Seonghwa

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kalluun-patangaroa · 4 years

Text

Suede, Royal Albert Hall, London

Brett Anderson and the gang reminded us just how brilliant they were in an astonishing one-off reunion concert for charity

Reviewed by Simon Price

To celebrate the 11th anniversary of Suede’s reunion gig on the 24th of March, 2010, here’s an excellent review of it by the one and only Simon Price.

The Independent on Sunday, 28 March 2010

YUI MOK / PA WIRE

Suddenly, everything stops. Suede have just delivered a swaggering, rump-shaking rendition of "Metal Mickey", their second single, and Brett Anderson simply stands there, gazing around the upturned fruit bowl of the Royal Albert Hall in disbelief, drinking in wave after wave of deafening applause and grinning like a lunatic, occasionally mouthing the words "Come on!" It's a spontaneous moment, and, he'll tell me later, one of the greatest of his life. After a small eternity, he steps back to the microphone. "We ain't finished yet ..."

Suede's five men in black have pulled it out of the fire with fearless hands. And make no mistake, there was fire. The song that precedes their arrival at this reunion show, Sex Pistols' gloriously vile "Bodies", keeps cutting in and out like a faulty hearing aid and, from the cybertronic Shirley Bassey of opener "She" through the subsequent six songs, the band struggle through what is – at least to the ears of this skyline swine in the Circle – the worst sound heard at a professional gig in 25 years.

Whether through English unflappability or obliviousness (it transpires it's the latter), they drive on until, on "Killing of a Flashboy" – their outrageously great B-side from 1994 – everything flows. This, I presume, is the moment that Roger Daltrey, of all people, complains to Suede's soundman that it's "too loud", much to bassist Mat Osman's delight when he's told about it afterwards.

Funny what absence does to the heart. When Suede played their farewell shows in 2003, few beyond the devoted seemed to care. Since they announced this one-off concert, everyone I know has been insane with excitement. I vomit three times before showtime from nerves-by-proxy (there were, admittedly, contributory factors).

Tonight Suede remind us, in considerable style, why they were one of only two British rock bands in the early Nineties worth giving an Eartha Kitt about. What Suede represented was nothing short of a rebellion. At a time of bearded grunge machismo and faux-Americanism, here was a band whose singer had the poise of a Piccadilly rent boy circa 1955, with a debut single which sounded like Adam and the Ants falling down the stairs while a drunk Mick Ronson played the queasy, teetering riff of his life, and with insouciantly provocative lyrics like "He writes the line/Wrote right down my spine/It says 'Oh, do you believe in love there?'"

Brett Anderson emerged as a Byron of suburban ennui, a small-town romantic with a distinctive lexicon of nuclear skies and council homes, and Suede came to embody an entire lifestyle, figureheads for a generation of young, sexually ambiguous hedonists as celebrated and mythologised in such subcultural anthems as "Trash" and "The Beautiful Ones". They also inadvertently kicked the door down for Britpop, but let's not bear grudges.

Suede, with immense class, have played their big comeback card for the Teenage Cancer Trust, the realities of which are brought home by the girl sitting next to me, allowed out of hospital for one night, with an intravenous valve bandaged to each arm.

Anderson has regrown his fringe, the better to resemble the Brett we met on "The Drowners". Others don't need to try. Spookily, Neil Codling, the otherworldly keyboardist, has barely aged over the last decade.

Brett's on ravenous form tonight, going commando in tight, grey Sta Prests (occasionally reaching down to readjust the boys in the barracks), falling to his knees, riding the monitor wedge, plunging into the photo pit to get mobbed and molested, booting bottles of Evian into the air, flipping his hip and clapping like slo-mo flamenco.

Packed into a narrow strip at the front of a cavernous stage, he and the band – reassembled in their late- Nineties incarnation – are on a burning mission to remind the world how great they were. A 21-song salute to their back catalogue takes in their cocky, talent-dripping debut album Suede, the baroque masterpiece Dog Man Star whose troubled birth-pangs culminated in the departure of guitarist Bernard Butler, Coming Up, the exuberant post-Butler classic which propelled them to festival-headlining status, the drug-damaged but patchily brilliant Head Music, a scattering from Sci-Fi Lullabies (the greatest B-sides album ever made), but nothing from the unloved final album A New Morning (though its saving-grace single "Obsessions" was on standby).

This quite astonishing return to the spotlight ends with "Saturday Night", a song whose video featured then- unknown Ashes To Ashes star Keeley Hawes (that's how long ago it all was). Anderson, stumbling to express how happy tonight has made him, jokes "Let's do it again ... in another seven years." Something tells me Suede ain't finished yet.

(x)

#suede #teenage cancer trust #royal albert hall #2010 #press #review #simon price

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tiesandtea · 4 years

Photo

SUEDE – now with humour

Suede featured in the Danish free music magazine GAFFA shortly after A New Morning came out, October 2002 (no. 10). An interview with Brett and Mat, short comments on the album tracks, and a review.

Photos by Casper Helmer and Morten Larsen. The magazine can be downloaded as .pdf here (look for pages 22-24 and 50).

Translation of the interview by Peter Albrechtsen under the cut. Own work.

OUT OF THE DARK

Brett Anderson and the rest of Suede have acknowledged that the substance that dreams are made of can neither be ingested nor inhaled. It has to come from the heart. And it does on their new album A New Morning, which was one of the topics of conversation when GAFFA met a transformed band in Copenhagen

FIRST HE TURNS LEFT, TAKES A FEW STEPS FORWARD and looks towards the mirror in front of him. Then he turns right, but keeps looking at himself. Everything is taking place in sliding movements, and there is evidently some satisfaction with what the mirror shows: The black leather jacket with a retro cut and a white back label sits tight around the slender, yet top-trimmed body.

If you didn't know better, you would think that Brett Anderson was practicing for a catwalk. The 35-year-old Suede frontman is hardly going to throw himself into that kind of thing for the time being, though he would be guaranteed to do well with his obvious expertise in hip twists, affectations and flirting from the edge of the stage. Right now, though, Brett is in a Copenhagen luxury hotel, where he's trying on a jacket just purchased by the band's British make-up artist, Nicci Welsh, who eagerly watches Brett's shameless poses. Brett is satisfied, but he has a twinkle in the eye at the same time, which reveals that something is hiding behind the charismatic singer's wide smile and chalk-white teeth.

–What do you say, Mat? Isn't it cool? Brett asks and looks over to his childhood friend, bassist Mat Osman, who understands well the look Brett's sending: Now, Mat must nod affirmatively. So he does. Brett looks over at Nicci with "thank you – yes, he would like to take the leather jacket home with him to London". But Nicci has also noticed Brett's hidden agenda and politely but firmly points out that "if you just thought to give it to a friend when you get back to London, then you can easily forget that."

Oops. Brett is exposed and quickly hands the jacket back to Nicci, but his now even cheekier grin shows that he certainly does not feel guilty, but simply perceives the whole scene as a bit of a show-off. As he himself puts it, a few minutes later: –Had it been three years ago, I would have kept the jacket for fun and given it to a friend 14 days later – simply to take advantage of my position as a pop star.

In other words, Brett Anderson has undergone certain changes over the three years since Suede's previous album, Head Music, and their brand new, fifth opus A New Morning. And the changes apply not just to his relationship to leather jackets, but simply to his whole lifestyle. In fact, the whole band's lifestyle.

Breakdown

Ever since the ten-year-old debut single, The Drowners, Suede have been heavy consumers of drugs all over the world, and they have never hidden that. Right from deliberately ambiguous song titles as Heroine and The Chemistry Between Us for opinions on the benefits of narcotics in provocative interviews, which the sensationally horny British press has lapped up themselves. "Coke is good for sex", "it's great to hear music on ecstasy" and "it's better to take drugs than to drink, because then you have a better next day" – all immortal quotes from Anderson.

But now it's over: Suede is clean – or something like that – and Brett clearly states that "I have become a happier person. My life on hyperspeed is a chapter over. I've even gotten into a good shape!"

–You start taking drugs because you want to feel good. It's that simple. And at some point, you do not feel good any more. It's that simple, too. That's what happened to us, Brett states in a dry and declaratory way.

Since Head Music, Suede had to say goodbye to keyboardist Neil Codling, who collapsed due to overexertion on Suede's tour in Australia in the autumn of 2000 (actually 1999). Half a year later, he quit completely because he suddenly had a relapse after having been recovering otherwise, and was about to break down completely. Neither Brett nor Mat clearly want to talk about it, but then admit that "it made them reflect on some things around both the band and themselves“. Brett, however, insists that “It was many different elements that led to what has happened with our lifestyle in recent years. Both the band and I myself have entered a new stage."

The changes around both Brett and Suede have also taken place over a longer period. First, Anderson started with giving the critics right who had complained loudly that he repeated himself on Head Music. Then he moved from the hectic London into his newly acquired country house in the peaceful natural area of Croydon (somewhat similar to when he moved into a monastery to write the texts of Suede's eight-year-old masterpiece Dog Man Star). He totally isolated himself, lived without a telephone and television, "buried" himself in literature and wrote the first lyrics for A New Morning.

–Oh, now it's starting to sound like I've gone and became boring, Brett chuckles, but hurries to add: -This is certainly not the case. In the old days, I deliberately avoided literature because I was terrified that literature would spoil my pure language. I would not be a sexless secretary who clapped on a typewriter. But now, I have found out that it doesn't necessarily have to end that way, and I read like an obsessed now. I read like a motherfucker. In one of the new songs, Obsessions, I refer to Bret Easton Ellis, but my favorite author is Albert Camus.

Actually, my paranoia about literature just says all about how far out I once have been. I was so afraid that my mindset would be infected by everything possible, but honestly, I must have had a hysterical tendency to pump everything up to pretentious heights. After all, both love and music are in fact very basic emotions, Brett says, who, however, admits he let out a roar when he went as far as to get his hair bleached last year ("it looked like crap, for God's sake," he sighs with one head-shaking laugh). However, it was an obvious sign that Brett felt the changes coming. And enjoyed it to the fullest drag.

Producer problems

In fact, Brett enjoyed being away from the big city so much that he persuaded the others to go to Iceland for a while and work further on the material that gradually became structured. In Iceland, the band briefly collaborated with Sigur Rós producer Ken Thomas, who, however, should turn out to be the first in a series of failed attempts to find the perfect producer.

–The magic was missing, Mat explains, but the creativity did not fail, and the band engaged in vastly different concepts around the upcoming album – "we considered making both a pure acoustic pop and an electronic folk record."

A New Morning became none of those. After leaving former Beck producer Tony Hoffer, Suede ended up slipping into the studio with Stephen Street, who is best known for his collaboration with The Smiths and Blur, and with Street behind the mixer, a renewed focus was there. The opening number Positivity took only three hours to write, and Brett describes it as "one of those magical moments in a band where everything melts together in the most beautiful way."

Those kinds of moments are, of course, the result of the fact both I and the rest of the band are dedicated to the music in a different way than before. Every single moment in music is important to me now. Every single moment in my life is important now. I have rediscovered both myself and the music, proclaims Brett, who hasn't changed in one aspect: He is still extremely talkative, well-worded and energetic – even when he explains it new album title:

–It's not so strange if A New Morning sounds as a religious quote – the last few years have truly felt as a bit of a revelation. We have chosen to see life from a new perspective. We have pretty much spent the 90s on an insanely exalted search for success, fame, money and all that sort of thing. Of course, music was the starting point, but it was all about consuming, savouring and worshipping life excessively. For me, this record is about having a completely different approach to life: Life is something small, fragile and completely unique. Something to watch out for. The new record is simply more intimate, human and much more honest.

This shouldn't be perceived as if Brett is now taking distance to his characteristic textual universe populated by the sad fates of the big city. On the contrary.

–I still have a great sympathy for people who are left in the lurch by the system and politicians, and I will continue to have that, he emphasizes, adding that "it's very much my self-understanding that has changed recently – not my worldview". Osman nods approvingly at Brett's side and adds with no hidden allusion to the title Dog Man Star, that "if you were born in a pigsty, you have so much to achieve, so much to flee from" – both Brett and Osman originally come from the unglamorous London suburb of Haywards Heath.

–Our songs have always been about ordinary people who achieve extraordinary things, and that's how we have been as a band as well, I think. You can easily be something special, even if you come from the pure nothing, and we have stuck to it, even though we have personally driven it too far into the extremes. We are still very much real people who have lived very real lives, and our songs are still about very real feelings, Brett points out.

–We will always fight for all the people who are trying to cope against all odds, and who try to maintain pride in adversity and frustration. Now we just have more surplus, passion and energy ourselves to fight the battle. Now we can really do it with an open heart.

Photo descriptions: "I HAVE RE-DISCOVERED BOTH MYSELF AND MUSIC" Brett Anderson "I HAVE BECOME A HAPPIER PERSON. I'VE EVEN GOTTEN INTO A GOOD SHAPE!" Brett Anderson

A New Morning

– according to Suede themselves

Positivity

Brett: –In many ways our programme statement: It really strikes a new, more cheerful tone. As I said, it was written in no time, and that's pretty incredible for us, because we're really perfectionists when it comes to songwriting.

Lost In TV

Brett: –Probably my favorite track on the album. The melody is based on backing vocals, and in that part, the song is more related to the Beach Boys and the Beatles than to old Suede. Why is there no one doing that kind of thing anymore?

Obsessions

Brett: –This is the last piece we wrote for the record. That's my favorite text. The fun of it is that the lyrics are in a way very personal, but at the same time guaranteed incredibly universal. I will undoubtedly receive many fan letters about that song.

Lonely Girls

Brett: –One of the first songs we wrote. A lovely lullaby-like groove. We even use bongo drums on it. A really nice number, which probably comes from the fact that I originally wrote the melody while I was in the countryside.

Beautiful Loser

Brett: –One of those songs where I really sing in a different way than usual: Harder, raw, dirty. In many ways, it's the album's ultimate live number: The energy is fearless, and the chorus is silly.

Streetlife

Mat: –It started as krautrock: The same groove that ran and ran and ran for eight minutes – it was totally Germany in 1971 – but it changed radically when the chorus appeared purely out of nowhere.

Ashtray Girl

Mat: –Ashtray Girl and Beautiful Loser are perceived the most as “old-school Suede”, but actually, they were both written by Alex Lee, who is our brand-new keyboardist. Funny, right? Another funny thing is that the lyrics are totally meaningless.

Untitled

Mat: –My favourite along with Streetlife – right complex and yet a simple song. Originally a very folk-like song, but our producer Stephen Street made it more electric. Suddenly we began to sound like a whole band.

...Morning

Mat: –It's about getting up in the morning, and we discussed a lot how we could underpin that with sound. Several weeks later, we ended up sticking a microphone out of Brett's kitchen window. So simple. So difficult.

One Hit To The Body

Brett: –It's our attempt to make an I Will Survive. It's about me having to pull through, no matter how smashed I am. Actually an old song we rediscovered in the studio. Reminds of Bruce Springsteen, oh.

When The Rain Falls

Brett: –Believe it or not: it was originally a spoken-word number in the style of Serge Gainsbourg. I sat down and breathed heavily into the microphone. Now it has become something else after all, for I had to admit that I sounded neither French nor sexy.

Suede: A New Morning

Reviewed by Jan Opstrup Poulsen

After the very electric Head Music, Suede landed soft and comfortable in the poetic corner of A New Morning. Brett Anderson still sings about beautiful losers and self-created troubles of youth, but melodically, A New Morning is a luminous and optimistic album. As on the masterpiece Coming Up, it’s the individual songs that are in the centre, like little stars in the night sky. But Suede doesn’t have the usual tempo of melodies at all. A New Morning is distinctly an album of ballads, and in Brett Anderson's most captivating moments, the album hits sublime moments. There are more typical Suede songs on the album, like the excellent Beautiful Loser, that we have heard from them before. A ballad like When The Rain Falls doesn’t change the state of affairs either, although one has to indulge in a grumpy admiration how Suede fabulously handle these ballads. On the other hand, great things happen in the opening song Positivity, which is a proudly towering pop song. This magnificent approach to pop songs fits Suede's finely tuned melodies like a glove and is well followed up on several songs on the album like Lost In TV and Astrogirl. Brett Anderson hasn’t become less affected, and guitarist Richard Oakes balances, as always, on the edge of disruptive, to end up in a harmonious melody line. But on the more ordinary songs, Brett Anderson sings with the desperation of an angry rock singer and to that extent, he reaches beyond the edge of the stage as a performer. A New Morning therefore has all the ingredients for a good Suede album that will divide the record people between rapture and contempt for these assumed excesses, respectively. But it's just too sour to be negative when the world can be so bright and inviting.

#brett anderson #richard oakes #mat osman #simon gilbert #alex lee #suede #a new morning #mine*#enjoy some exclusive non-threatening Blonderson ANM content : )#Suede in other languages #suede in denmark

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