#so naturally i have barely been in the mood to come home and write each day

[corignem]

the it's been three months since my last holiday from work burn out has hit,,, SO SO strong this week gang,,, i don't feel good mr krabs,,,

[loveanddeepthroat]

Come Home

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - Sylus has headed out to deal with some business, leaving you concerned for him as he doesn’t return when he told you he would. Fluff and a bit of angst. Sylus and MC aren’t yet in a relationship.

Word count - 2k

A/N - Hi! This is my first little one shot for LADS, and I hope you enjoy it. I do accept requests and look forward to writing more for this fandom 🖤

It had been hours since you last heard from him.

You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t need to worry. That he was more than capable and has always returned in one piece. That your worry is wasted on him anyway, considering the fact that you weren’t even supposed to like him.

But you felt sick.

It was almost impossible not to be concerned. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he has always been reachable. You’ve tried his phone so many times that the battery eventually gave up on your futile attempts and went to sleep—which is what you should be doing at this hour. 

Mephisto had accompanied him on his outing, Luke and Kieran staying at the base with you under Sylus’s orders. They didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that it was currently three hours past the time Sylus had told them he’d be back. They know him better than you do, but their constant reassurance did little to soothe the panic starting to show.

“Please,” you practically beg. “I have this awful feeling that something has happened to him. Please go and look for him.”

Kieran groaned at her, tired of having to repeat himself once more. “We already told you.”

“Boss’s orders are non-negotiable,” Luke chimes in from where he’s lounging in an armchair.

“He’d have our heads as soon as we walked out the door.”

You were becoming more irritated each second by their nonchalant attitude. They didn’t even seem to give a shit, and you weren’t currently in the right mindset to delve into why you gave so much of a shit.

He was a criminal. A man who had such questionable intentions and motives that you didn’t even want to know the bare minimum of what he got up to whenever he headed out alone.

If something had happened to him, however, you wanted names.

As poorly as your acquaintance with him had begun, you found him to be more intriguing with every moment spent in his presence. His likes and dislikes, his attentive nature whenever you’re around, the way he chooses a vinyl record based on the type of mood he’s in—even the way he dresses has you analysing his every six feet and two inches of pure, solid muscle.

He wasn’t bad on the eye, especially when he was looking at you. You couldn’t fully figure it out, but there was a very subtle tenderness to his presence when he was around you. Subtle in a way that didn’t overshadow his ability to be the biggest asshole you’d ever met.

“If you keep pacing like that then I’m going to throw up,” Luke complains.

You shoot him a harsh glare. “If you don’t like it then get out and find your boss,” you grit back.

With an exaggerated huff, he pulls himself out of his seat, stretching his arms over his head. You feel a glimmer of hope, only for it to be shot down almost immediately. “I’ll let you know if I pass by him in my dreams,” he teases, walking out of the lounge and towards his own room.

You wanted to drag him back and push him out of the front door, but the man could probably put you to sleep with a snap of his skilled fingers. Instead, you growl angrily as his chuckles sound from the hallway.

Kieran stood up, too, mimicking his twin with his stretching. He paused for a moment, and you waited for his addition to his brother's teasing.

“He’ll be back,” he assured, surprising you. “If he’s not back by morning, we’ll figure something out. Just go to sleep.”

He doesn’t wait for a response from you as he follows after Luke, both of them turning in for the night. Sleep sounded like pure bliss, but you weren’t going to be able to do so.

You couldn’t even sit down, your legs automatically taking you around every single piece of furniture so many times that you were starting to get dizzy. 

“Please come back,” you chanted quietly to yourself quietly, if only to keep your pacing on track and your mind alert. 

“Please come back. Please come back.”

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but as soon as you heard the front door, you bolted for it on unsteady legs.

He came in quietly, which was completely overshadowed by your crashing into things on your way to get a visual on him. You practically fell through the door that led to the entry hall, where he looked only mildly bewildered and wholly amused.

There were no visual signs of any injury, but light blood splatters dotted across his white shirt, indicating an altercation. Mephisto sat happily on his shoulder, cawing as soon as he laid his mysterious little red eyes on you. The damn bird was never too happy whenever you were around.

Sylus raised an eyebrow at you. “Expecting someone?” 

That asshole.

He dropped off the face of the earth for hours, and had the audacity to greet you with sarcasm. 

Before your brain could warn you about the threat of putting your hands on him, you sprang forward, striking his chest with the palm of your hand. Then again. And again.

It was pathetically weak from your exhaustion, and he didn’t so much as blink as you assaulted his blood-spattered shirt. Mephisto, however, took to fighting back immediately, pecking at your hands and screeching.

Sylus shooed him away quickly, and the mechanical crow reluctantly took his leave. He proceeded to just stand there as his winged companion flew away, entirely unbothered by your outburst.

Your movements were quickly faltering, the already feeble slaps to his torso becoming far and few between. Still, he did not move. Did not speak. He was the most feared man in the N109 Zone, and he was letting you lash out on him.

Your hand finally stopped on the lapel of his coat, gripping it for a second to catch your breath. He waited for you to finally take a step back, your arms crossing over your chest immediately so you could fully close in on yourself. You were certain that your little outburst was going to bring some repercussions.

Unable to fight it, your bottom lip started to tremble. You had been walking around that lounge for so long that you had convinced yourself he was not coming back. That the wrong person had finally found him and gotten the better of him.

And you just know what he would’ve said if you indulged him in that speculation. What a silly little thought, sweetie.

He closed the space between you, your head automatically dropping to avoid his crimson gaze. You couldn’t bear it, the anticipation of what he was going to do. Your ass was likely headed back to Linkon on foot.

Warm fingers curled beneath your chin, lifting your gaze back up to his. He was towering over you, but you strangely didn’t feel intimidated. All you could feel was his warmth, and your wave of emotions crashing into their withering barrier.

His face gave nothing away as he studied you, still holding your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you finished?”

He didn’t ask it sarcastically. He was giving you an opening. If you weren’t, he’d allow you to resume until you got it all out of your system.

But you were done, your arms feeling like jelly to the point that crossing them was taking a big effort from you. You nod, feeling wetness pooling in your eyes. This all felt ridiculous. He didn’t owe you phone calls or explanations, you both barely considered each other friends. 

The surprisingly soft pad of his thumb brushed gently across your shaking lip, his eyes following the movement. “I’m sorry.”

In any other circumstance, those two words would have shocked you enough to make you fall over. But you were a little too far on the delusional side of exhaustion, your body running on the fumes of your panic.

Your eyes flicker away, the wetness tipping over the edge and dripping off of your lashes. He turned your drifting head back to him to lock eyes with you again. He never did like it when you broke his gaze.

“Things got a bit out of hand,” he explained quietly, not needing an explanation for why you were so upset. “You shouldn’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” you lie, earning an amused chuckle from him.

He brushed his knuckle across your cheek to rid you of your tears. “No? Why else would a kitten get her claws out, then? Did Luke and Kieran forget to feed you?”

You scoffed at his teasing, following his lead back into the ease of your strange companionship. “They’re terrible babysitters,” you say, sniffling away the last of your upset. 

He smirked, moving his hand to cup the back of your neck. He pulled you towards him, embracing you gently with a deep inhale. You almost swore he was smelling your hair, but you shut that thought down. It was far too complicated for such a tired mind to dwell over.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve both embraced, but this instance did feel quite different. It felt comforting, rather than nerve wracking. Nobody embraces a man like Sylus without at least a modicum of fear beneath the surface.

“You could have called,” you whispered. “Or…or at least answered my calls.”

He sighed, the blow of breath tickling your hairline. “There isn’t a good signal where I went tonight,” he explains. “I should have mentioned that. I didn’t want to call once I did have service in case you were sleeping. I apologise.”

An overwhelming warmth filled your chest, different to the one emanating off of his body. You look up at him, lifting a hand to his forehead. He humours you by allowing it, his eyes trained on yours as you felt the cool skin beneath the hair falling over his face.

“Are you coming down with something? You’ve apologised to me twice now,” you say, half serious.

He didn’t laugh or tease, his face slipping back into that easy nonchalant expression. “I assure you, I’m not coming down with anything. I could ask you the same thing, though. Since when did you become a worrier, kitten?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. It was something you yourself had to figure out. Caring for him wasn’t on your bingo cards when you first met. If anything, the very first day you met, you’d have been relieved if he hadn’t returned.

“Don’t get used to it,” you murmur, his smirk returning at your half-assed response.

“I’ll try, but I do get attached,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. He looks as though he’s contemplating something, and it takes a moment before he speaks again. “I’ll get us some better communication devices. Something you can carry around that I can alert you on.”

A slight sense of guilt washed over you. “No, it’s okay. You don’t need to be concerned about my insecurities, I shouldn’t be keeping tabs on you.”

Sylus shook his head, his mind already made up. He taps a finger against your temple. “My concern about what goes on in there is for me to deal with. If some better technology eases your troubles, then it eases mine too.”

There it was. That side of him that kept you so very intrigued and made you feel a sense of…home? He often used words that didn’t m quite mean the same as his intentions, but you could see it in him.

He cares.

He rubs a firm hand up and down your back before turning you around, lightly pushing you away from the front door.

“It’s about time we got some sleep,” he says, barely above a whisper. 

You let him guide you through the halls, his lips dropping to your ear as he whispered again.

“Feel free to monitor me.”

[luveline]

Ok this sentence from your hotch fic "You're so busy, I could never," you say, shaking your head. 

got me thinking what about a lil story about a non bau gf being very upset but trying to hide it from hotch bc he’s busy and she doesn’t want to add to his plate

hope this is ok!! —hotch assures you he's never too busy to listen if you've been upset by something, 1k♡

You're doing the dishes when it starts to come back. It's weird that the nature of the things that hurt us is their ability to come back, to metastasise while we're unaware; you think you're doing a good job at moving forward and the claws of it sink into your back, your chest. One talon at a time. 

You ignore it, focusing instead on Aaron behind you at the dinner table. The sound of papers fluttering across each other as he turns a page, the click and drag of his pen as he writes. You can picture his cursive, and the frown he wears as he works. 

You're dying to tell him about what's hurting you, but beyond feeling small in the eye of the storm that is his job, he's been busy, evidenced by paper work at home and a yawning gap of communication. This is the first time you've seen him all week. You dread filling the time (wasting it, even) with something that doesn't concern him. It barely concerned you, someone else's unresolved issues turned to a bad mood and all the fallout on your shoulders.

"Is something wrong?" Aaron asks. 

He's like a shark for emotions, your tiny sniffle a drop of blood in the water. You wipe your nose with a soapy hand and shrug casually. 

"Nothing's wrong. Are you nearly done? Maybe we can watch a movie." 

Aaron stands up. You stiffen at the sound, but relax when his hand squeezes your shoulder. He braces his hands on the countertop and leans forward, looking at you. You meet his eyes. Usually so serious, softened slightly by worry. 

"You stancing up on me?" you tease. 

He doesn't buy into your jokes. You clear your throat, wondering what you might be able to change the subject to. You've been thinking about asking him if he wants to get a pet fish with you, an aquarium—

"You're upset by something," he says. "I think it's best if you tell me." 

"You think?" 

"Please, honey." 

You set the last dish on the drying rack and dry your hands slowly, buying time. Aaron indulges your behaviour though he undoubtedly knows what you're doing. 

"You're really busy, Aaron, I don't want to put more water in your levy." 

You've barely stopped talking when he begins. "If this is about my being busy, put it out of your mind. You know better than anyone that things have to wait sometimes, regretfully, when I'm working, but I'm here now." He fixes you with a fond smile. 

"Exactly, you're here, so let's not waste time on silly stuff that's bothering me." 

Aaron bears his weight on his hip against the countertop, taking your water-warmed hands into his, tacky skin sticking as he rubs your knuckles. Easing your forward with a gentle pull, one of his hands runs up your arm until his fingertips are nudging under your sleeve. An encapsulating hold, it says, I'm right here. Not too busy. Nothing too silly. 

And still, he says aloud, "Time talking about how you feel isn't wasted, even if you're upset by something small." 

You frown then, nose aching, eyes burning, because it doesn't feel small at all. "Are you sure you're not too busy?" you ask weakly, a high pitch attempt to salvage it and keep hiding how upset you are, but a simultaneous giving-in. 

"No," he says softly, all empathy as you descend into tears, "of course I'm not too busy." 

He hugs you close right there in the kitchen. Words won't come out and your shoulders shake under his hands with every attempt to explain it to him, not just that something bad happened to you, but that it's been really heavy to carry alone, and that weight being taken from you —by him, and so easily— is a moving relief. 

He pulls it out of you, an explanation made of fits and starts, and he gets mad on your behalf, but he pushes it aside to talk you through it. When you can cry without nearly choking yourself on breathlessness, he sways you minutely from side to side. 

"I knew something was upsetting you," he says, still so gently, "but I didn't know it was this bad. I need you to let me know. I'm sorry, honey, but I need you to tell me when it's bad like this if I miss it." 

You shudder in a breath. "It's not that bad." 

You both know it's a lie. Aaron pulls you in for another good hug, hand at the small of your back rubbing a dedicated circle. Your shirt bunches up and he takes a handful of your naked skin, thumb tracking around, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. "It's okay," he murmurs. "Take a deep breath. I will always be here for you, you know that?" 

It's odd to hear him strung like that. You take a deep breath like he asked you to, arms clasped behind his, your face too hot in his neck. 

"Even if I'm busy, I'm here at the end of the day. I promise. If I'm sitting at the table with you, that means I'm waiting for you." He cracks a small smile, his hand at the nape of your neck encouraging your head back. The other hand, dedicated to the patch of skin just above your coccyx, rubs upward. It releases a little of the tension building in your spine. "I love you, honey, I'm busy, but never too busy to hear what's wrong. Never." 

"You'll make me cry worse," you whine, letting him tip your head further back again, hand at your cheek now giving a soft squeeze. You blow a warm breath out at his thumb.

Aaron kisses you lightly, lips only half-touching. 

He pulls away. "Let me make you something to drink, hm?" 

Thus begins a night of adoring pampering and over the top doting. You pretend it's too much, but it's really, really perfect. 

[enihk-writes]

[hard to recall]

part of the [architect!reader] series can be read together with the other fics or as a standalone

pairing: pbss!chung myung x gn!they/them!reader

will be alternating povs from pbss!chung myung and mhdd!chung myung

summary: a hundred years and a few remnants later

word count: 5.50k

author's note: i got very demotivated towards the end but the og plot was supposed to be reader comes back from work to see mt hua in shambles and they tear down all the buildings they built just to secure funds and that's why the current sect looks so bare, and it's heartbreaking because reader is an architect and this was their life's hard work and cm knows that too and he realised there was virtually nothing left of that could remind him of them, like they put their soul into these structures and now it's gone type of thing,, and in the chaos of the aftermath when there was no one to lead the sect as the remaining elder they have to do it and everyone knows they tried their best and that they died miserable,, cm was supposed to find this out bit by bit through hyun jong and the other current elders... BUT like i said, i got suuuuuper demotivated towards the end because of writer's block so i scrapped the og idea... maybe i might come back to try writing it, but not in this story rn...

═══════════════

what does it mean to be loved?

what does it take to be loved?

power? fame? money? or was it a good heart?

═══════════════

they've always had a good head on their shoulders. some have said that it was a little too good. poised steady and head held high no matter the situation, had they been able to carry a sword like he, who knows what they could have accomplished?

but alas, they were not destined for such things.

the natural state of their qi clashed with the martial arts of mount hua. like water on fire, and it had left them weaker after each training session. they were lucky, having discovered this flaw early, or else they might have suffered more down the line.

talent is something you nurture to bloom.

he looks at them, eyebrows raised in questioning.

i'm going off to see what else i can do.

and just like that, they left. nothing much changed in his life. though, sometimes, he does feel as though it wasn't as noisy as it should have been. it's almost like there was a hard-to-ignore scratch on a perfectly polished marble.

the food tasted more bland now that they weren't watching over the cooks with an iron fist. the clothes didn't feel as crisp now, since the ones on duty these days didn't leave it out in the sun for as long as they used to. and dust was now left to collect in corners until it became too much to ignore, it wasn't like that when they were here — they would have gone down on their hands and knees to clean those annoying places obsessively.

he also might have missed that there was someone who talked to him like a peer, an actual peer, over most of the others who either talked to him like a child, their unreliable junior, someone to be feared and respected. it's nice to have someone your age to talk to, and he never really thought he needed that sort of companionship until they were gone.

well, he doesn't mind waiting. he was a pretty hard worker too, and wouldn't it be a little embarrassing for him if he had nothing to show for when they came back?

three years flew by so quickly, and he walks up to the front gates one unassuming day to find them reaching over to knock on the door.

he was a little shocked.

well, not shocked in the ah sense. but in the ahhhhh sense.

when they stood next to each other side-by-side, his mood went a little sour when he sees that they were still not much different in their height. he was hoping that he had grown more then they did.

welcome back.

mmh, i'm home~

he didn't ask about what they've been up to in the past three years while they were wandering across the country.

the elders seemed pleased when they all walked out of that long meeting, the elder in charge of the finance hall in particular looked a little happier than when he walked into the room.

huh. he would be lying if he said that this didn't make him wonder what happened to them in the past three years.

still, he kept his mouth shut, preferring to watch from the sidelines instead. grinning at them when they walked over in his direction, slinging an arm over their shoulders, annoying them like they hadn't ever left home.

dinnertime was noisy, the table where they sat was swarming with so many other disciples — all wanting to hear of their stories of the outside world. chung myung can't blame the others much, most of them weren't allowed to leave the sect grounds until they reached a certain age.

oh, him? he didn't get permission either, he just does it because he never cared about the rules. and it was this mindset that had all his seniors and other elders of the sect rubbing their temples in exasperation.

he watched from across the dining hall, chin propped in his hand, as the littlest ones tried to garner their attention by pawing at their thigh with small and chubby hands.

they laughed at the children's antics, carrying the youngest up from the ground, resting her on their lap as she was lulled to sleep against their chest. for a moment, they caught chung myung's gaze, looking at each other through the gaps between the crowd of people. they smile shyly at him, looking away when one of the older sect sisters asks them something.

chung myung's lips pull into a thin line, looking down at his half-empty plate of food awkwardly.

he wasn't sure why he wished for a moment that they were the only ones there in the dining hall then. maybe he wasn't used to having to share them with anyone, it was always just the two of them. with how chung myung was so quick to pick fights, nobody his age wanted to hang around him. only they had the patience to even try. and because of that, they slowly lost their friends — because if anybody wanted to be friends with chung myung, that person surely had something wrong with them.

he felt bad. knowing that he was the reason why nobody wanted to associate with them was a shitty feeling. he tried to chase them away in the beginning, never resorting to hurting them but he wasn't ever nice to them either.

go away!

nuh-uh!

that was always the way they greeted each other back then. he would hide from them in the tallest cupboards in the kitchen or in the trees or even the rooftops but they must have learnt something from his chung mun sa-hyung with how they still caught him each time effortlessly.

right.

this is how it's supposed to be. seeing them surrounded by so many people, all looking at them in awe and wonder. this was how they should have lived all this time.

the usual appetite he had vanished. pushing the food away, chung myung gets up to leave, slipping away into the cold night and away from the action.

white puffs of air float upwards at each exhale, gravel crunched under his feet as he drags them to bring him back to his room. he doesn't make it far though — there was a pitter-patter of light footsteps coming his way. he sighs and chuckles to himself.

he would know that sound of footsteps anywhere.

looking over his shoulder, he sees that the toddler sleeping soundly in their arms. it was amazing, how they managed to carry the child running without waking her up from all that shaking. he wonders for a moment if...

chung myung-ah.

he tilts his head.

let's put her to bed. she must be tired from staying awake for so long, poor baby.

he listens to them coo softly over the little girl's nose scrunching up from the cold. chung myung curiously pokes at the mounds of fat stored on the child's cheeks, snickering when the kid frowns in their sleep, grunting in protest.

they gasp and slaps his hand away.

hey! don't do that!

they whisper-yell, cradling the fussing baby's head closer to their chest, shushing her cries. rocking their arms, hoping the child would go back to sleep, which she thankfully did.

chung myung only looks away from their accusatory gaze.

═══════════════

there used to be a nursery a little aways from the main dorms.

it wasn't there anymore. much like most of the buildings that used to stand here in mount hua back in its heyday.

it was just one of the many little things that had been torn down from trying to salvage sellable materials. that was nothing more than a product of time, and the actions taken by a sect struggling to feed the mouths living there.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

why would you do something this pointless?

chung myung couldn't understand them. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed, talking to them through their window, with him on the outside as they were drawing out lines on a parchment paper by candlelight.

hm... but i don't think it's pointless though?

they state simply, not once looking up from their work. feeling neglected, chung myung whines a little. they were finally back after a good few years and now that he wanted to spend time with them, they're too busy? please look at me. he wants to say, beg even.

you're awfully clingy these days.

he hears their breathy chuckle. and the corners of their eyes crinkle up, lips barely hiding that wide toothy smile he'd missed seeing. though, it looked less childish than he last remembered. that's right. they're both grown up now, they're both adults now.

he wishes that they could be kids forever.

mostly because kids don't think too hard or dwell too long on things that hurt their brains. and whatever new winds that have begun to sail on the ship since they've returned to mount hua, was bringing them to a different destination than he thought they'd end up. he wasn't going to gamble on the possibility that they might have taken notice of this subtle change like he did too. all these thoughts hurt his head.

he listens to the sounds of the calligraphy brush dragged across the paper, tingles travelling up to his brain. it was late, he should be back in bed... but...

ahh...hnn...

chung myung yawns, not bothering to be polite around someone he's known his whole life. he hears them giggle again, but this time, they set their brush aside. leaning across the table, their fingers fiddled with something, soft clanks of wood bumped into each other for a moment before the window was finally thrown open.

come inside.

they call out to him with that same soft smile.

woah there! you shouldn't be inviting a man into your private quarters so easily like this! what if he misunderstands something... this is so intimate you know...

he gasps dramatically, even if this wasn't his first time in their room, this was his first time in their room as an adult. it was very much a significant thing to him.

they laugh again.

...you jest. we're friends, what's there to misunderstand?

ah. of course. they were only friends. nothing more, nothing less. what was there to get confused about?

he wordlessly climbs in through their window. taking off his boots before putting his foot down on their pristine floorboards. it's hard to forget about that time they scolded his ear off for dirtying the floor they had freshly cleaned.

you still remember to take your shoes off huh?

they mumble quietly.

you don't have to do that anymore though. i'm not as nit-picky as i used to be. i can always clean it up again.

he thinks they've certainly changed quite a bit.

his thoughts wander more, but his gaze never once leaving the drawings that came into being on the paper. thin and thick lines that formed into what he recognised as the entire scale layout of the current mount hua seen from above. he marvels at their small drawings of furniture in each of the miniature rooms.

he moves to stand behind them, eventually sitting on their bed after changing into the spare set of sleeping attire they've kept in their wardrobe just for him.

as the night wore on, he finally succumbs to his tired state, burrowing under the covers of their bed. he calls out to them to go to bed too, but it seems they've chosen to ignore him in favour of their work. he didn't have half the mind to try again — not when they had that look in their eye. it was almost like a possession, some innate obsession that they'd somehow unearthed within themselves in the three years they were gone.

he doesn't remember them ever being like that. if anything, they were the most laid-back person he's ever known. with no particular ambition, no wants beyond what they needed... not much plans for their future. he didn't know what happened to them before they decided to leave, he still hasn't asked them about what happened in the time they were away. they've changed, and deep down he feels a little bitter for getting left behind, falling asleep with those thoughts running in his mind.

the next time he woke up, it was the beginning of daybreak. the room was still dark even with the sky slowly turning into a pale violet. he felt the covers lift and they climbed into bed as quietly as they could, not realising chung myung was very much awake.

ah!

they gasp, startled by the red of his irises staring right at them from under the blanket's dark shadows.

you scared me...

they mumble and whine tiredly, falling into his chest, his outstretched arms circling their waist, pulling them closer.

m'sorry...

his lips ghost on the crown of their head, a hand hesitates to cradle the back of their neck. what if that was too much? sure, they've huddled together under the covers on cold mornings like this countless times before... but they were younger then. now, things have changed. but maybe it's more him than they, or it was both.

he could think about that later. right now, he feels so warm and relaxed he feels himself drifting back to sleep again.

═══════════════

that day when he had dug into the ground to find the secret vault for the ledgers, he just barely missed the pile of scrolls sitting on the bottom of the bookcase.

he got curious, opened them and saw a set of familiar drawings.

the lines were faded from a vibrant black to a faint grey and the parchment had also turned a little yellow on the edges. his fingers traced over the writing at the corner of the paper. it was a signature of that person's name. he tries and fails to remember the way their hands held onto that brush they'd often used.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

recently, the elders have been discussing about what to do with some of the main halls.

you see, they've neglected the management of the buildings in favour of setting aside the budget for other matters like investing in expanding the local businesses or other miscellaneous affairs. they'd figured there wasn't really a need to keep up with building maintenance, not when these halls have been standing well and good for the past few centuries.

though the main issue now was that there was a wee bit of a nothing-too-serious case of termite infestation going on in the wooden frames on a select few of the said buildings. ugh, more work everyone around.

oh! but it's not for chung myung though!

he remained blissfully unaware about the current plight of a certain person until he comes across them slumped against the outer walls of the back gates, head in their hands.

hey...

there was a slight hesitation in his voice.

hm?

they look up to meet his worried gaze with a confused, sheepish smile. loud growling of their stomach interrupting the moment.

he feels his irritation grow. seriously! they were old enough to take care of their own needs! no sane person would choose to ignore those needs to keep on working!

nausea hits them hard when chung myung pulls them to their feet, the world around them spins as their knees grow weak and buckle. thank god for his reflexes, catching them before they fall to the ground — but now what?

he does what chung myung does best.

throwing the poor and sick, now his supposed patient, over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

they don't even bother fighting back instead, they fade in and out of the intense feeling of wanting to throw up on chung myung or passing out — wondering to themselves if this guy was genuinely trying to put them to an early grave.

put me down...

nuh-uh. you need to eat.

they groan in exasperation.

and they passed out soon after.

in the days following that fainting scare, everyone agrees to take a step back. probably feeling guilty that they were driving one of their own like a workhorse. but that isn't enough to stop someone who's a known workaholic. chung myung doesn't remember them being like this before.

though a friend was a friend, and he shoves down the ugly feeling slowly brewing in the pit of his gut to take care of them. he was dependable when he wanted to be. just don't expect it to happen every time.

he knew the corners of the sect they liked to be, and in each of those corners, he'd put down his clumsily made step-stools — uneven and shaky, made from scrap pieces of branches and logs he found. it wasn't the best workmanship in the world, though they were delighted that he did this for them nonetheless.

not long after, there was a second, more polished and well-made stool that stood next to each and every one of those misshapen ones. and in the duo's later years, a third one was added to the lineup.

it was a common sight for the younger disciples to see two of their elders and another guy hunched over, roasting water chestnuts by the back gate like a bunch of delinquents until sect leader chung mun would drag their two elders by the collar as the third person trailed behind sheepishly.

═══════════════

the back gates once made out of brick and stone had been torn down with only a low fragmented outline left behind. chung myung walks around that area until he stumbles on a mound of dirt by a wall still standing.

curiously, he kicks off the top layers of soil, revealing a splintered and rotting piece of wood. the more he unearths, the more the mound begins to take the shape of three step-stools.

his mouth waters at the smell of roasted chestnuts wafting from the kitchen. he hasn't had that in a while.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

loud banging noises from dawn till midday were the norm this past week.

almost everyone bit their tongues from complaining. it was a necessary process, after all. even the elders held back from commenting on the ruckus. of course they did, this whole mess was their fault! who asked them to neglect building maintenance!

they were perched on a bamboo scaffolding, mumbling curses under their breath. straining to pull out rotted wood, trying not to squirm at the disgusting look of wet mold. cleaning out the gaping holes and filling them out one by one was a cheapskate way really — but what the elders ask for, they had to deliver. no matter how tiresome the job was, they have to prove themselves.

somewhere in the back of their mind, a voice was always condemning them. telling them over and over on repeat how useless they were, not being able to pick up on the basic skill of using a sword in a martial arts sect. the odd one out, the nail that stuck out, the stubborn thorn that got on the soles of one's foot. all descriptors that applied to them. their master, a man whose name they didn't want to speak of, was a cruel one. they always felt like a freeloader, taking and taking like a parasite, his words, what use did they have other than being another mouth the sect had to feed?

just as the rest of the world faded into a blur, a familiar voice cuts through the fog of their spiralling thoughts.

he calls out to them, face red from a combination of alcohol, running away from the seniors and the heat of summer. he clamours up the scaffolding with a small basket and a bottle of wine, trying to hide himself from view.

you aren't expecting me to hide you from our seniors... are you?

chung myung laughs nervously.

i'm not going to lie to someone to cover your ass.

urgh... you sound like those shaolin monks talking about the five virtues of righteousness...

they were about to snap back when a flurry of footsteps came their way — chung myung retreats further into the shadows, stilling from making any more noise. they glance over at him, before turning over to continue with their work.

a few of the junior brothers stop at the foot of the scaffolding, panting a little. the boys look up to their senior, nudging amongst themselves to ask the whereabouts of their other runaway senior.

uh, senior... have you seen...

the timid voice of the junior was interrupted by the loud banging of the hammer against the wood. and every time there seemed to be an opening, the banging quickly resumed again.

the boys decided to just give up and report to the elders that they'd lost track of their runaway senior. grumbling amongst themselves about how they've wasted their time.

chung myung remained in his spot, only coming out when the coast was completely clear. all while they were still hard at work, pulling out the wood, and filling out the holes.

he reached into the basket, plucking out a kumquat from the bunch. he blows the dust off it and wipes it clean before nudging the fruit to the other's lips.

open your mouth... ahhh...

the kumquats were just as sweet and tart as expected. they chew on it thoughtfully, gathering the seeds under their tongue to spit it out. chung myung's hand moves to hover under their chin, and they raise an eyebrow in question.

you can spit the seeds on my hand.

ew. that's so disgusting. what are you? a pervert?

the man looks at them indignantly. urgh, they were so rude! it's even worse than when they first left mount hua! to have believed life outside shaanxi would have changed this block-head potty-mouthed person was a pipe dream after all!

you... you're cussing me out, aren't you?

chung myung shakes his head quickly, knowing they weren't above tattling to their elders if he pissed them off. he's known this first-hand since childhood, and it doesn't seem like things were going to change in adulthood either.

you can buy my silence with some of those mooncakes you have or with the mandarin oranges in the basket.

he sucks in a breath. they were asking for his favourite mooncakes... they were so cruel... evil, evil bastard! what friend? this was clearly the devil in disguise, maybe he should have brought talismans to test that theory...

oi.

he grumbles in defeat, getting to work by diligently peeling the skin off the mandarin oranges, splitting the fruit into its little segments, and feeding it to them piece by piece with slices of mooncake in-between each fruit to cleanse their palate.

mmh... our chung myungie can be such a good boy too eh~

shut up!

they cackle and drown out his insults with the loud banging.

═══════════════

the sect had been gifted a few carts of mandrin oranges by the merchant guild. chun myung had taken a few to snack on in his free time, and as he peels the skin off the fruit, he thinks about how nice it'd be to have someone to share these little slices with.

he bites on a piece.

it was sweet, but not like he remembered. and there was also a bitter aftertaste that left him feeling emptier than before.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

war was such a devastating thing.

beyond the obvious loss of lives, there was also the grief gained from seeing someone who is still alive and kicking lose all that made them... them.

chung myung hasn't been himself in a long, long time. he barely remembers through the haze of liquor-induced stupor the type of person he used to be before this endless bloodshed. he smiled less, got agitated more often, and even for someone who had always seemed to attract wayward troublemakers this was all too much. he wonders what went wrong, did that person also notice something was wrong with him?

no. that person surely noticed. they were an architect for god's sake — being observant was part of their job description. he wanted to ask them why they hadn't been so hard on him like everyone else. the tension hanging in the air had made the sa-hyungs lash out at him, he somehow became the scapegoat that took on the blame for the smallest errors. not that he minded, he understood they didn't mean it, but it doesn't make it any less hurtful.

myung-ah.

he looks up, eyes clouded over and dazed. a vaguely familiar figure makes their way towards him, talking with someone, presumably the tavern owner, in hushed voices before a hand caresses his head gently. chung myung leaned into the touch, it was as comforting as it always was. he hasn't been seeing them as often as he'd like these days... he frowns at the realisation.

myung-ah. let's go home.

he groans as he feels them lean him against their shoulder. he's been told he smells like plum blossoms, most of the other swordsmen that practised the plum blossom divine arts did too — but they didn't, and he becomes curious about what they smell like. nuzzling his nose into the side of their head, he catches a whiff of what could only be described as laundry left under the sun.

this person... how was it possible for someone to be this comforting in every aspect of their being? it doesn't make sense, they were human were they not? how was someone able to have such a clear mind at all times? even chung mun sa-hyung slipped up once in a while, losing his patience, just like he did earlier today when he chastised chung myung for not taking things as seriously as he should have been.

do you... do you also think i haven't been doing my best?

he mumbles under his breath, voice strained and cracking just a little. he felt his stomach drop, out of nervousness or dread, he wasn't sure. maybe it was even both.

the two stop walking. they were at the foot of the steps leading up to the front gates. he looks at them, afraid to hear what their answer would be. he tries to laugh off his question, peeling himself off them and was just starting to go up the steps when he feels their hand grip at the back of his uniform.

they pull him back towards them and hesitantly pushed him to sit. chung myung watched the expressions on their face morph through the gaps of his hair hanging over his eyes. he was the most terrified he had ever been in his life — ever since he'd come to terms with the fact that he saw the person standing before him as someone more than a family or a friend, any prospect of them thinking of him in a negative light was enough to have him running with his tail between his legs.

he dare not say he was in love with them. not when he held so much unresolved resentment towards them for leaving him behind. he wished, still to this day that they hadn't gone off to find what they were good at. they should have stayed within the walls of the sect, they should have stayed here with him, where they would have never bloomed their talents and made everyone want to take them away from him. they could have been all his if they stayed, and he could have held them as close as he wanted, envelop them with his whole being. his love, all his, his, his.

chung myung-ah.

he tried not to make a face.

our chung myung works hard in his own way. i don't know about the others, but i do. i know you have your own ways of working hard.

they brushed his hair back, tucking some strands behind his ear. he hated it. he hated how it made him melt under their fingertips, hated how even after all these years he didn't have the courage to admit to something this simple.

they didn't know all of him. if they did would they still touch him this tenderly?

his hands find their waist, and then their hips. musing at the way their pupils dilated and shook, he tugged them towards him. they stumble over their feet, falling into his chest. there was a stupid grin plastered all over his face as the other tried to get up from the embarrassing position. his arms circle around them, pulling them in once more, setting them on his lap.

...you're drunk. you know that right?

they push away his face that had been inching closer. he holds their hand covering his mouth, pressing his lips against the inside of their palm — kissing it once, twice, a few more times until he felt satisfied, before moving their hand to rest on his cheek. he rubs his sand-papery jaw against their smooth palm, the tip of his nose tracing their wrist, thumb pulling down the long black bracer so his lips could reach the thumping vein lying under the thin layer of skin.

their breath hitches as his teeth grazes over their wrist, he ponders for a moment before biting down on the flesh. hard enough that they wince, whimpering softly, but not enough to draw up blood. they feel the back of their ears grow heated, not really wanting to find out whether it was from embarrassment or arousal. hitting at his shoulder with their free hand, they chide him for doing something so indecent out in the open, where anyone could see.

do you hate it?

that's not the point!

but... you don't hate this... right?

they turn away from his prying gaze. he wasn't wrong, they didn't hate that he was doing this. it's just... what if...

chung myung clicks his tongue. with a snap of his fingers, the alcohol in his system leaves completely in a translucent haze. he scoffs at the way their nose crinkled in disgust from the overpowering smell. he cradles their face into his chest, saving them from their little predicament. now sober, he agrees that he had been a little too carried away, so he digs his heels to the ground and kicks off into the air — still carrying them in his arms, jumping on rooftops until he reached the front of his private residence.

he refused to let them down even as he walked inside, despite their balled fist thumping on his shoulder. using that same scolding tone, still said in a soft voice, not once raising it in annoyance or anger.

with wide strides and feet falling heavily on the wooden floorboards, he locks every door and window in the residence — just in case someone becomes too nosy. tense body only relaxing in an exhale when they were both in the privacy of his bedroom. setting them down on the soft covers, he kneels at their feet, resting his chin lightly on the plush of their thigh, mumbling about how sorry he was for the roughness earlier.

it's okay.

their hands work their way through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, cupping his cheek and turning his face up towards them.

chung myung was a beautiful man.

he knows it, but their look of quiet admiration made the blood rush to his face. he wasn't used to seeing someone look at him so lovingly, not when men and women would throw themselves on him from the lust they felt, not when most people closest to him always had a furrow on their brow from the antics he pulled. this was so new to him, he didn't dare move, lest it broke this tender moment.

have they ever looked at anyone like this?

probably not, he thinks, closing his eyes to savour the smooth pad of their thumb drawing circles on his cheek. smile tugging up the side corner of his mouth as the scent of the sun grows a little closer, their lips brushing over the hard lines on his face, his sun-kissed skin.

═══════════════

he doesn't have a lot of joys in this second life.

though there was one that everyone around him seemed to have picked up on. it was strange that someone as seemingly money-hungry as he was found content in the simplest things — his bedding washed in plum-blossom-scented soap, freshly dried to a crisp under the blazing sun.

what the others don't see was how behind the closed doors of his sleeping quarters he would hold onto the sheets so tightly in his grip his knuckles turned white. burrowing his face into the fabric, he breathed in deeply, trying to recall the face of his sun.

a hazy figure, a blurry visage.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

[vodika-vibes]

😌 idk if my first request for a fox x reader went through but i’ve been reading a lot (ofc whats new) and uh uh I found I really love fics with CX-2 (Clone Assassin) aND SO, to my favorite SW writer I ask;

How bout a soulmate au with CX-2 (?) Could be a bit of angst with a happy ending, and everyone is just wondering how reader could be with him after all the things he’s done (uh im getting sunshine!reader x grumpy character vibes)

dont have to write this! i just would love to see some more cx-2 fics after reading one just now lol also im down the rabbit hole again that its cx-2!tech whose been reconditioned, do what you feel is best but i just love that theory bc I’m a firm believer too that tech never died 😌

Protective

Summary: For a long time, your parents feared that you didn’t have a soulmate. Until, one morning, you woke up and found a wild dog curled up next to you on your bed. You named him Noir, and the people around you quickly learned that he was fiercely protective of you. However, after Noir kills an Imperial Officer after he threatens, you have no choice but to go on the run.

Pairing: CX-2 x F!Reader, background Tech x Phee

Word Count: 2799

Warnings: None

Prompt: Soulmate AU - soulmates have spirit animals representing each other.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I wasn't able to get the angst to work, largely because I wasn't in an angsty mood. Also, as much as I love the CX-2 being Tech idea, I had a different idea for this fic, so I hope you like it!

“What d’ya have there, Noir?” You ask as you return to the small hut that has been your home for the last three months and crouch in front of your oldest companion.

Noir’s tail wags rapidly as he nudges something in your direction.

You gently rub his head, then carefully pick up his offering, “Oh, it’s a fish. Did you find dinner for us, pal?”

Noir releases a happy yip, and you laugh softly, “Good job, Noir.” You stand and carry the fish over to the rough kitchen to divvy up the portions. Most of the fish will go to Noir, while you’ll prepare your portion with some seasoning that the Wookies traded with you.

Three months ago, Noir slaughtered an Imperial Officer who threatened your life. You’ve always known that he is fiercely protective of you, and you knew that there was a chance that he would kill again if you were threatened.

The first time it happened you had still been a child. Your uncle tried to kidnap you, and Noir reacted violently. 

That time, the authorities just nodded and said it made sense, that your uncle had bad intentions. Neither you, nor Noir, were punished for the death of your uncle.

The Empire is much less understanding.

You had no choice but to take Noir and flee from Coruscant.

The pair of you bounced from planet to planet for several months and then were offered a safe house on Kashyyyk, in the Shadowlands far below the treetop homes of the Wookie people.

It’s not easy.

You are, at your heart, a city girl. Hunting and survival skills do not come naturally to you. Luckily, you have Noir. He really is the greatest equalizer.

If not for him, you’d have died several times since you moved into the small hut.

The biggest downside to this whole situation is the knowledge that you’re not likely to ever meet your soul mate.

Well, unless your soulmate is a Wookie, you suppose.

Carefully, you fillet the fish on your cutting board and toss the large majority into Noir’s bowl, the rest is set in a bowl of marinade and shoved into the fridge. 

At least you have electricity. 

Sure, you don’t have a holo, but you do have a radio that allows you to keep up to date on the current events, and, much more importantly, listen to books while you fight to keep the Shadowlands from reclaiming the hut.

You’re about to flip the radio on, when Noir releases a low growl.

A growl low enough that your hair stands on end.

You turn your gaze to Noir and see that his ears are flat against his head and his teeth are bared. Spooked, you reach for your belt and grab your blaster, and then you nudge the door open.

Noir slinks out of the hut and, cautiously, you follow him.

The forest is silent. Eerily silent. 

You scan the forest around you, not that you expect to be able to see or hear anything. It’s enough that Noir is still growling as though he’s on the verge of attacking.

There’s a rustle in a bush, and you lift your blaster, only to lower it as a small, curious-looking creature ambles out. It’s red, black, and white, and you’d almost think it was a raccoon if not for the colors.

Noir is still growling like there’s a threat, but he’s ignoring the small creature, which is still ambling towards you. It stops at your feet and raises on its hind legs, and you crouch to get a better look at it.

When Noir first appeared in your bedroom all those years ago, no one was sure what kind of animal he was. Not even the zoologists at the local university were able to determine a species.

So you spent a lot of time as a child flipping through various animal encyclopedias. And, while you’d never claim that you had a perfect memory, this little creature does look familiar.

“You’re a Red Panda, aren’t you?” You murmur as you lightly stroke the soft fur on top of her head, “Your kind isn’t native to Kashyyyk, how did you get here?” What’s more is that she’s soft, as though someone’s been taking care of her, though based on the scarring around her ankles, she’s been chained up a lot. “Are you someone’s pet?”

The red panda climbs into your arms and promptly falls asleep, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, you’ve clearly been socialized. Maybe I can do something about the scarring.”

Your head snaps up as there’s more rustling and Noir’s growl lowers.

Five Stormtroopers stumble into the clearing, “There it is!” One of them says as he points at the Red Panda in your arms, “Get it!”

You stumble backward as they lift their blasters and Noir launches himself at the Stormtroopers. 

You’ve always known that Noir was quick. Quick and with a strong bite, but the last time you’ve seen him move this quickly was when you were a child. He manages to kill three of the Stormtroopers before they recognize that he’s a threat.

The fourth and fifth, however, turn their blasters on him.

And, for a moment, you think that you’re going to watch Noir die. 

You only think that for a moment, as another man emerges from the forest. He’s clad in black armor, much unlike the stark white armor of the Stormtroopers. And you watch as he uses a blade to kill one of the Stormtroopers from behind. 

You watch as he and Noir work in concert to kill the last of the Stormtroopers.

And then you watch as Noir jumps up on the man, his tail wagging faster than you’ve ever seen before. The armored man seems surprised at how friendly Noir is, and, to be honest, you are too.

He’s so friendly with the armored man, in fact, that you can’t help but think that Noir is the representation of said armored man.

“Noir,” You say, drawing the attention of both the wild dog and the armored man, “His name is Noir.”

It’s kind of hard to read him, seeing as he’s wearing a helmet, but you’re pretty sure that he’s staring at you. “Ka’ra.” He gestures to the red panda in your arms, “She’s been a prisoner her whole life.”

“That explains the scarring,” You walk over to him and pass him his spirit animal, a small smile crossing your face as Noir drops to his paws and bounces around you. “I have some medical stuff, to wrap her scars if you want.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and then nods once, “I’d appreciate that.”

You lead him into the hut, and motion for him to take a seat anywhere while you dig around for the first aid kit.

Once you find it, you set it on the table and open it to dig through what you have left. “You know, you don’t have to leave your helmet on.” You note lightly, “This is a pretty safe place.”

The man hesitates for a moment, then he nods once and reaches up to pull off his helmet. 

You’re genuinely surprised to see that he’s a clone. He looks like every other clone you’ve ever seen, dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin…though he does have some nasty scarring along the side of his face.

He’s handsome, you decide as you focus back on your medkit. He kind of looks like Noir, if you squint.

Though, now you have to wonder if you look like his Ka’ra.

“Ah, here we go!” You pull several rolls of bandages from the bottom of the kit and some scar powder. “If I remember correctly, this needs to be added to water, and then the bandages need to soak in it for a bit before we apply them—” You mumble under your breath as you flip the bottle and squint at the instructions.

“What’s your name?” The man asks.

You glance at him and introduce yourself absently, before you squint at the directions again, “What’s yours?”

“...CX-2.”

You pause, “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve never actually met another person with a soul animal before.”

“It’s rare, then?”

“One of the rarest soul bonds.” You agree, “The only one that’s more rare is the teleportation one.” You stand to grab a clean bowl and fill it with water before placing it on the table.

“I have a brother with the teleportation soul bond. He vanished one day, never saw him again.” CX replies as he watches you.

“Well, there are a lot of you.” You reply as you add some of the powder to the water and stir it in.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, “What is a human doing on Kashyyyk?”

“Ah…well.” You pause, “Noir killed an Imperial Officer who threatened me.”

CX stares at you for a long time, and then his lips curl up into an amused smile, “Good.”

You shoot him a puzzled look.

“He’s as protective of you as I would be.”

“Yeah, well…he is representative of you, right?” You reply with a small shrug.

“I didn’t expect you to be so calm about it,” CX notes, “You do realize that I’m an assassin, right?”

You start unrolling a roll of bandages, “When I was about eleven years old,” You say quietly, “My uncle tried to kidnap me from my bedroom. Noir,” You nod at the wild dog who is gnawing on a bone, “ripped his throat out before he got me out of the living room.” You look at him, “Why should I be afraid of you?”

CX looks startled for a moment, and then a quiet laugh falls from his lips, “I suppose you have good reason to not be afraid.”

You shrug, “I would prefer it if you didn’t assassinate people anymore, but I’d also prefer to not live in a hut on Kashyyyk, so—” You shrug again, and finally drop the bandages into the water.

“What would you have me do instead?”

“Mm, you can join the Rebellion?”

“Ick.”

A laugh falls from you, “I mean when the Republic was still standing, I never had to worry about Republic Officers threatening me. Within a month of the Republic turning into an Empire, I was threatened by an Imperial Officer.”

“...I suppose that it fair.”

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” You say lightly, “We can stay here if you prefer.”

“We?”

“Well, I assume that you want to stay with me?”

CX gazes at you silently, “I want you safe. So staying does make the most sense.”

You meet his gaze evenly, “I’ll definitely be safer with you, compared to away from you.” You agree.

CX is silent for a long moment, “Mandalore.”

“Beg pardon?”

“There’s a group of former Commandos who have a compound on Mandalore. They’re housing clones and their families.” He explains, “We’ll be safe there.”

“How do you know that?”

“All of the Clones know it.” He says, “Well, save for Alpha Prime, I suppose.”

“How are we supposed to get there?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I have a ship.”

You grin at him, and then pull the bandages out of the water, “I think it’s a great idea.”

It takes three weeks for you and CX to get to Mandalore, and it takes even longer for CX to prove that he’s not an active threat to his brothers. You’re not able to help with that, but watching him interact with you does a lot to earn him some goodwill.

You like your new home, it’s not Coruscant, but there is plenty of room for Noir to run around and get spoiled, and he does get spoiled. Not quite as much as CX’s Ka’ra, but pretty close. 

Surprisingly, CX is somewhat clingy. When he’s in the same area as you, his arms are around you, or his hand is in yours. You kind of have the feeling that he’s a little touch starved, so you don’t mind it.

On this particular day, you’re lounging in the sun, watching Noir and Ka’ra play together, while CX is sparring with Ordo (only the Nulls aren’t hesitant about sparring with CX, which is sad, but understandable).

You enjoy watching him spar largely because he tends to spar shirtless.

You’re allowed to be a simple woman when it comes to your soulmate, right?

“Watching them again?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your musing, and you tilt your head back to look up at the familiar man approaching you. “You could join them.”

“Hardly, if Ordo so much as scratched me, both Noir and CX would rip him to shreds.” You pat the ground next to you, “Have a seat, Tech. No need to hover.”

“He still wishes to be called CX?” Tech asks as he sinks to the ground next to you.

“It’s his choice.” You reply easily, “How was your physical therapy?”

“Painful,” Tech replies, matter-of-factly, “However, my healer believes that I am getting to the point where I will no longer need to see them.”

“That’s something. Are you thinking of reaching out to your brothers? Or your soulmate?”

“I am…unsure.”

“Oh?”

“I died.” He says bluntly, wincing as CX manages to flip Ordo onto his back, “I died, and my soul bond is weaker than it was before.”

“I assume your doctor has an opinion on that.”

“Of course. He says that I just need to reach out to Phee.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Tech anxiously adjusts his glasses, “What if she has found someone else?”

“Do you really think that she would?”

“...she is a beautiful and clever woman. Any man would be lucky to have her—” Tech starts.

“You’re borrowing trouble, Tech. You need to call her.”

Tech opens his mouth to reply but stops as CX jogs over.

You smile up at him adoringly, and offer him his water bottle, “Having fun, love?”

He smirks, “Ordo is bitching because I managed to flip him. So we’re having a round two.”

“Of course you are.”

He flashes a tiny grin at you and crouches so he’s able to kiss you quickly before he jogs back over to the sparring ring. His training was so different from his brothers, you can tell based on the scars covering his body, and based on the fact that he’s not quite as solid as Ordo and the other Nulls.

Not that any of that matters to you.

You love him as he is.

“It does not make sense to me how someone as kind as you ended up with someone like him,” Tech admits, “He intimidates everyone, and lashes out when pushed.”

“I’ve never been afraid of him.” You reply with a small grin, “Even when he killed someone in front of me, even when he loses his temper.”

Tech shakes his head, “I believe I understand.”

You tilt your head curiously.

“You are just as insane as he is.”

You aren’t able to help that laughter that bursts from your lips, “I suppose,” You say through your giggles, “that’s one way to view it.”

Tech flashes a crooked smile at you, and then gets back to his feet, “I am going to go send Phee a message, and hope that she forgives me. Enjoy your ogling.”

You fling a handful of grass at him but don’t deny his accusations. 

The spar ends an hour later after it gets too hot for them to continue, and CX makes his way to your side, dropping onto the ground next to you. Immediately his arms slide around your waist and he presses his face against your neck.

“Did you have fun?” You ask as you card your fingers through his curls. 

He hums in response, his arms tightening around you, “I’m glad that you don’t mind coming to these.”

“I enjoy watching you spar.”

He pulls his face away from your neck, “You enjoy watching me do anything.” 

“You are ridiculously handsome.” You shift in his grip slightly so you’re able to press your hands against his cheeks, “I’m a lucky lady.”

“Mm, is that right?” CX asks as he leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re all sweaty,” You whisper to him. 

“So maybe we should go home,” He offers with an arched brow, “You can wash my hair for me.”

A giggle falls from your lips, “Deal.”

CX grins at you, and crashes his lips against yours, knocking you back onto the grass.

Everything isn’t perfect, CX still needs gene therapy to remove the enhanced aging, not to mention regular therapy to help deal with all of his issues. But so long as you’re together, everything will be fine.

You won’t allow for anything else.

[kilikina34512]

Loki Meets Peter

I hate how long I've been gone from writing and posting, but to explain would be a story in itself. Long short, life sucks, desire for enjoyments was gone, and I'm refinding myself and my writing. I look forward to writing more here and there until I have more time again. It's shorter than I prefer to write, but I had an hour only to spare.

This story is based from a meme I saw on TikTok that I can't seem to find again, but wrote from what I remembered with my own flare to it. Divider courtesy of @firefly-graphics. Make sure to check them out!

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Summary: Loki comes back to the compound only to meet Spiderman. Basically, Peter being Peter and Loki's reaction to it.

Warnings: none, kinda fluffy cute

Word Count: 706

You were so happy to have Loki home, you could barely peel yourself from his side after the Bifrost had vanished.  He'd been gone off world with Thor for over a month dealing with a conflict that was facing Asgard.  Part of his release from life in the dungeons had been contingent on using his abilities for good, which for Odin had meant responding when summoned to fight for Asgard instead of its destruction.  

A deal you weren't enthusiastic about, but that was a battle for another day.

Right now, you were enjoying just being able to hold his hand as you both walked into the compound.  You knew he'd been healed already before returning home, but you could see the strain in his body language that you'd learned to read.  His shoulders were more tense and tight, spine straighter than normal to hide the fatigue, his face a bit stonier than it normally would be with you around.  You had a relaxing day planned for the two of you, everyone already knowing not to bother you so you could both spend time together after such a time away from one another.  

You were halfway down the hall that led to your suite when a door closer to you opened and a small form came out of the room.  Seeing who it was, you feared this could go badly with how tense your God of Mischief was.  It wasn't uncommon for him to snap at someone when he'd come back from Asgard, which was why no one had a problem with you helping him get back into a more amiable mood.  

Before you could say anything against it, the boy a few inches taller than you raced over and had his hand stuck towards your man.  "You must be Mr. Loki!  Hi, I'm Peter, Peter Parker.  It's so nice to finally meet you, she's told me so much about you."  Peter's eyes quickly indicated you before staring excitedly at the god before him.  You'd already told Loki about the newest Avenger on your way inside the building so that if they came across each other, it wouldn't be a surprise.  Still, you'd hoped not to have this meeting until tomorrow.

Letting go of your hand after a moment of hesitation, Loki finally shook Peter's hand.  "You must be the one called Spiderman.  I am Loki, of Asgard."

Peter, in his ever inquisitive nature, immediately asked, "I know you're an Avenger too, but, aren't you like... a bad guy?"

Loki, ever the smart mouthed silver-tongued Prince, didn't hesitate to respond, "It varies from moment to moment."

You gave Loki an admonishing look that you knew he saw.  You could see the faint tug of his lips, knowing he wanted to smirk at your response.  "So," Peter dragged out before continuing, "How much do I need to worry?  Like, on a scale of one to ten, one being flicking someone's ear and ten being something horrible like killing puppies and kittens, where are you at right now?"

Loki blinked and you barely held back the giggle that wanted to let loose.  You watched his posture relax ever so slightly and his voice came out with less of its formal tone.  "I would say it is currently about a three."

The boy in front of you both smiled before nodding.  "Cool, could you let me know if it ever gets above a six?"  Looking down at the alert on his watch, Peter looked back up with a more urgent expression.  "I have to go, Happy is waiting to take me over to see Aunt May.  It was nice to meet you!"  With that, the boy rushed away as fast as he could without all out running.  

After a moment of staring at Peter as he departed, Loki turned to look at you, amusement shining in his eyes.  "I like the boy of arachnids.  He amuses me greatly."

A wide smile broke out across your face as you tugged him back down the hall again, ready to spoil him.  "I'm glad to hear it, he's a precious bean for sure.  Now let's get to our room, I have everything ready for a bath and a new book of poetry is beside the bed ready for cuddles and reading."

[breezypunk]

Heeey!! Gimme an 18 for that cool OTP writing prompt!♥️♥️

Thank you! <3

Soft otp prompts here

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────

18- Write about how each member of your ship smells. 

Two weeks Vaughn had been gone out on the road. When the Aldecaldos asked him to join them on a little adventure to Arizona, Vaughn couldn't pass up an opportunity to get out of NC and enjoy the change in scenery. Goro however stayed back to take care of their little apartment, and their cat, Loki. He sent Vaughn off knowing he'd be in good hands, knowing that having a change in environment would be good for his health in many ways. Goro couldn't help but miss him entirely however, and was excited knowing Vaughn was due home at any minute.

"Hello, son.. Do you think he will mind this?" Goro kissed the top of Loki's head and he started setting out the spicy ramen he had made for Vaughn and himself when he reached home. He was just hoping Vaughn would be in a good mood.

Ten minutes had passed, when Goro had finally heard a familiar voice coming out of the elevator door. "Knock, knock." Vaughn stood in the living room looking as rough as ever. You could tell he had been outdoors for a while, his skin was tanner than usual, and he looked like he hadn't showered in days, but he looked good. Goro took him in for a moment as he slowly stepped from out of the kitchen and into the living room where Vaughn stood still, watching Goro watching him.

His dark blue shirt hugged his frame tightly, and was covered in dirt, and his jeans were ripped, he had been doing dirty work out there in Arizona, and Goro couldn't have been drawn to him.

"Are you.. okay? I missed you too you know." Vaughn chuckled.

Goro finally reached him, and placed his hands on his shoulders. There it was.. that familiar scent. It was one of Goro's absolute favorites, and it drove Vaughn crazy as to how Goro could possibly think he smelt good after being outside for so long.

"I haven't showered in two days." Vaughn rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile and Goro buried his face into Vaughn's neck. "I smell like sweat and blood."

"You smell like nature. I love it.." Goro's voice was muffled, Vaughn could barely make out what he was saying.

"And you smell like cat food, and.. ramen?" Vaughn looked around, sniffing the air until he spotted the ramen on the counter. He was starving, but Goro refused to let him go.

"I should let you wander the outdoors more often, V."

"You'd get the full effect if you came with me." Vaughn played along with Goro's weird fascination with how he smelled, but at least he wasn't repulsed. Vaughn often smelled of rain water and fresh grass, and it pleasured Goro greatly.

"Now you tempt me.." Goro finally eased up, looking at Vaughn up and down and moving a sticky strand of hair from his eyes. he was glorious dirty and clean, a true aphrodisiac.

[lucysarah-c]

Honestly, may sound silly but one of my favourite parts of HG is from a Spin-off (higher-ups meetings) and it's Levi being completely focused on Y/N being sick. Not because I enjoy that, but because Y/N's health being really delicate had been "hinted at" multiple times and also neglected by her. Y/N likes to believe that her health is alright, she overestimates it and, therefore, constantly lies about it.

I mean lmao, she tells the cadets she hasn't had an attack of asthma in years and then you have her before an expedition basically unable to perform. She says she's alright but as soon as she caught some extra cold during the "coming home from the ball", she raised a quiet strong fever that got Levi to worry sick.

In this spin-off, we clearly see it. Levi knows, he KNOWS, that she couldn't handle being exposed to a cold that managed to catch Hange (someone who seems to be as healthy as a horse). He insists, he warns her up, and she thinks it's not a "biggie and he's exaggerating". And then we see her fighting for each breath that she's taking in Erwin's office. In my mind, Levi let her go to that meeting because maybe being around friends would "raise her mood and make her improve a bit," Let's say that Y/N's health is quite the topic in the story, present, past and future ... if you know what I mean. I always wanted her health to be a bit of the "controversial" topic in her relationship with Levi. Levi lost his mother to an illness, and I believe his obsession with cleanliness and germs is heavily related to that. Levi is TERRIFIED of an illness taking the woman he's in love with so he does what many people without a healed trauma do, resolves to an unhealthy mechanism of coping with it. Levi is a control freak, he wants to control Y/N's health. Meanwhile, Y/N had her entire childhood controlled to detail because of her health. Levi's patronising "I know better than you about this, I take decisions for you" to keep her healthy drives her nuts, she doesn't want it, and she doesn't care. I wanted a bit of that to be present in chapter 15, delicate (Levi's pov) When he knows that she's not fine but instead of trusting her, a soldier that had gone to way more expeditions than him, he straight up thinks that "she shouldn't have come". You know that I don't like to write white or black characters and for me, this is Levi's more toxic nature. "He knows better, he can save her, he should take the decision for her," I mean haha they barely have "something going on" at this rate and Levi is already thinking that some decisions should be taken by him. I really based this on Levi thinking about breaking Erwin's legs so he wouldn't go to wall Maria or him telling Isabel and Farlan that only he should go. Plus to that, I liked to add the period of time when a lot of men take decisions for women. The "I know better" is something men love lmao. Actually, when Thomas shows up, he was a clear example of "stay quiet and let men talk,".

[rechief]

The things I miss

Before I played Final Fantasy XIV, I played World of Warcraft for a long time -- from when it was in beta (!!) until the first patch of Warlords of Draenor, when I jumped ship because that expansion was bad. I then washed up on the shores of Eorzea, and, aside from a brief return trip to check out Legion, that's where I've been ever since, happily slaying gods, gambling at the Gold Saucer, and fishing. A lot.

But in -- well, not the same way, obviously, but in what I'd like to think is a similar way to how a refugee might pine for home even though they know they can't go back there anymore, I do sometimes miss WoW. It was my first MMO and, even though I'm far too used to XIV's cozy community and the level of care that Naoki Yoshida and his team have put into their work to ever truly make a return to Azeroth, I have a lot of fond memories of my time with the game. The WoW-nostalgia has been hitting me particularly hard lately, so I thought I'd put some of those memories here, if only to get them out of my skull.

I miss the music. Of course, XIV has an excellent soundtrack, and its principal composer, Masayoshi Soken, continually cranks out blood-pumping boss battle themes and superb arrangements of past FF songs -- but there's something truly special about the best of WoW's music that no other MMO has been able to capture. The quiet grace of the Valley of the Four Winds; the mournful majesty of the Storm Peaks; the mystery and awe of the Isle of Thunder; the fierce pride of Orgrimmar -- I wouldn't associate these emotions with those zones as strongly as I do if it weren't for the background music setting the tone. WoW's soundtrack is one of many things that made each new area you discovered feel mysterious and important, as if you really were exploring Azeroth mile by mile and mapping it out for the benefit of posterity, and it's always my go-to when I'm writing and I need something to get me in the right mood.

I miss healing being a meaningful role. I've been a healer main since I first started playing MMOs, and have enjoyed that role in both WoW and other games -- as a rune-keeper in Lord of the Rings Online; as a nature affinity defender in City of Heroes; as a mystic in TERA -- but, even though I do still play and enjoy all four of FFXIV's healing jobs, the game's damaged-focus meta, coupled with the healers' bare-bones DPS rotations, means that I don't enjoy playing them as much. I prefer healing to be the main focus when I'm playing a healer, and I don't think any other MMO I've played has done that quite as well as WoW did. I loved the rush of seeing my entire raid's health bars dropping like so many stones and thinking, "How the hell am I going to deal with this?" I loved having to focus so much on healing that there were times I didn't even have damaging spells on my action bars. I loved having to read tooltips to see when, or even whether, I should dispel certain debuffs, and what would happen if I did. Hell, I loved having to regularly dispel debuffs! I know healing has always been an unpopular role, and, since playing XIV, I've come to enjoy tanking and dealing damage as well -- but damn do I miss the days when the incoming damage during a tough boss battle would make me sweat.

I miss expressing myself through my class. There are a lot of really cool classes (or "jobs", in that game's nomenclature) in FFXIV -- I've leveled all the combat-oriented ones to max and have enjoyed playing many of them. A lot of care is clearly put into designing their abilities and rotations, and when you're raining fire down on your enemies as a black mage, slicing and dicing them as a samurai, or cleaving through them with your greatsword as a dark knight, you really do feel powerful and in-tune with the class fantasy. In a way, though, the degree to which XIV's classes are so tightly designed is what frustrates me about them the most -- because, what with there being no talent trees or optional abilities, and with materia (XIV's equivalent of gems) being almost completely about increasing your damage rather than changing how your class feels or plays, the only thing that distinguishes, say, one red mage from another is whether they're a good or bad red mage -- not what spells they've selected or whether they're going for this or that kind of build. I know that, as the meta for a given WoW expansion settles, cookie-cutter talent selections and stat priorities proliferate -- but I loved being able to swap out one ability for another simply because I liked it better, or because I thought it looked cooler, or because it gelled better with how I liked to play. It's frustrating to consider the FFXIV classes I don't play as frequently, that I would play if I could just change them a little bit.

I miss the encounter design. I think XIV's team does a good job of designing really thrilling boss battles -- but I've long since come to accept that the game's "hardcore" content (extreme trials, savage raids, etc.) just isn't for me. These harder fights are designed principally around dealing with combinations of attacks that force your party to stand in, or move to, very specific areas of the arena over and over while still dealing as much damage as possible -- something I've heard colloquially called "the dance". While I think the coordination of XIV's hardcore raiders is really impressive, and I also think that there's something to be said for the complexity of the way the game's harder fights are designed, I just prefer the difficulty of an MMO encounter to be more focused on me playing my class well than on me remembering which marker to run to when 1,000 times over the course of 10 minutes.

I miss official add-on support. I understand why there's a blanket ban on add-ons/extensions/mods in FFXIV -- it wouldn't be fair to console players, for one thing -- and I think that the ban on DPS meters, in particular, has been tremendous for the health of the game's community. I did love customizing my UI with add-ons in WoW, though. It was wonderful not having to wait for the developers to solve a problem, because I could just download, say, an add-on that allowed me to combine all my bags into one large bag, or one that hid the ugly gryphons on either side of my action bars, or one that turned my whispers to other players into an instant-messenger-style series of windows. The creativity, ingenuity, and dedication of those who volunteer their time and expertise to develop add-ons for WoW have not only made the lives of those who make use of their work easier -- they've also developed user interface innovations that have been incorporated into WoW itself, or even other MMOs. In fact, I'd say there are a few ways that XIV's own UI owes a debt of gratitude toward not just WoW, but to its add-ons.

And finally, I miss gnomes.

They're just fun! I like lalafell too, but they aren't the same.

I'm sure if I sat here at my computer for another two hours, I could probably think of a dozen more things about which I could wax nostalgic, but that'll do for now. It would be nice if, one day, I felt like I could go back to playing WoW without getting burned by its developers once or twice an expansion or without getting called a slur by (some of!) its players once or twice a dungeon, but for now, I'll stay in Eorzea, where I'm sure I'll continue to enjoy myself -- even though there will always be things I miss.

[uncovering-sumac]

I went to the book club again on Tuesday and Acacia was there. After the meeting I tried to follow her, but as soon as we got outside, she darted across the street and slipped into a hole in the wall of an apartment building. So much for that. I asked Sarah, the librarian, if she knew anything about Pat and what happened to him. She remembers their interview for that article 2 years ago but she isn't sure what happened to him. She heard he was seen wandering around town the day he disappeared, holding a bundle of papers and looking scared. During the interview, he was friendly and in a good mood but he looked exhausted and would jump at any little noise he heard. If his neighbors were anything like mine, I'm not surprised.

After we left the library Aiden and I went for a walk. He's really easy to talk to. We started telling each other about ourselves and we ended up getting into some really personal stuff. Stuff I've never told anyone about, my insecurities and uncertainties about the future, disappointing my parents, finding something fulfilling to do with my life. He shares a lot of my worries. He's my age, went to trade school and has been working as a mechanic for a couple years now. It's hard being gay in that environment, with so much pressure to be masculine. I grew up in a family of boys and had to navigate my whole gender journey through that, so I get it. Us queers have to stick together. We each went home after that and we've been texting each other memes all week.

I visited a few bars for my article and interviewed the owners after a little training with Bob. Watching him do it I thought I could never interview someone, but it's coming kind of naturally. It probably helps that I'm offering these guys free publicity for their businesses. The people of this town can have rough exteriors, but they're sweet once they warm up to you. Although I'm nervous about putting my work out there, I have to admit I'm getting excited to write this thing. One of the places I visited is Ellicott's Inn, the town's oldest building. It's said to be haunted (like every old building) and they hold seances every month. I'm tempted, but they happen at 3 am and I'm already barely sleeping. It could be fun, though. Maybe one of the ghosts would let me interview them.

[lilaccrxsh]

In The Locker Room - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Pilot!F!Reader (18+)

Description: After a mission, you and Rooster have different feelings towards how it went, leading to other feelings coming to light.

Content warnings: fingering, face-sitting, swearing, enemies to lovers vibes (arguing then stuff), references to 'failed' missions (death), technically public sex (in the locker room)

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: The Top Gun brain rot is so real so naturally I produced this. Blame @unmistakablyunknown :) This is so not an original idea I just needed to write my own before I burst.

+ + +

The sound of the locker room door slamming against the wall, then swinging immediately shut with a great amount of force, reverberated through the room. You quickly pulled your clean tank top over your head. Whoever had just entered did not sound like they were in a good mood. 

"Y/N!" 

Oh. He was using your name, your actual name, not your call sign. For a moment you considered calling him by his first name, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Whatever had angered him was about to become your problem too. You were going to reply professionally.

"Rooster." 

You crossed your arms over your chest. A defensive act as you braced yourself for whatever fight Bradley was about to pick with you. 

He rushed round the corner, having to push against the wall as he slid to a stop. You had never seen him so annoyed. 

"Y/N." Now he had found you, he didn't even attempt to get closer. Rooster stood on the opposite side of the room, glaring at you. 

"What do you want?"

"For you to stop being so fucking reckless."

His remark stunned you. This is what riled him up? Today's successful mission. 

"What are you talking about, Rooster? The mission was a success. All the planes are still intact and everyone's alive."

"But you might not be, Y/N!" 

Rooster stepped towards you now, simultaneously thumping the metal of the locker door closest to him. The noise echoed. You resisted the urge to flinch. 

Instead, you found yourself narrowing your eyes. What gave Rooster the right to talk to you in this way? You were barely even friends, let alone anything else. Since day one of the recall to Top Gun, the two of you had rubbed along, snarky remarks being thrown around the classroom like children. Rooster was the person who altered your call sign. You were 'Butterfly', but Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw decided that was one too many syllables - opting otherwise for 'Flutter'. You'd be lying if you said it didn't piss you off. 

"Why the fuck do you even care, Rooster? I thought you'd be happy if I did something stupid and got kicked out, or worse." 

"And you'd think that because?" Rooster took another step towards you. 

"You're a dickhead! And it makes you even more of a dickhead if you can't see that!"

"That's what you think of me?" With every sentence, the anger seemed to dissipate from the man in front of you. Rooster had also taken another step closer. 

"You've given me no other choice." 

"Well you haven't given me a choice." Rooster roughly pointed a finger to his own chest. "Today you flew like it was your last day. That's too reckless, Y/N."

"Isn't that what we're meant to do, Rooster? Fly each mission as if it could be our last. What do you want me to do, huh? Fail?"

"No." There was now no space between you two. You were forced to look up at him. You slowed your breathing, consciously refraining from breathing deeply. If you did so, your bodies would have been touching.

"I want you to come home."

That was the calmest Rooster had spoken to you since entering the room - in fact, it may have been the softest thing he had ever said to you. 

Why was he saying this? You searched his eyes to find no reason for you to believe he was being insincere. His gaze was hard and steadfast. The only piece of doubt you could find was a flicker of something odd. There was a hint of nervousness. 

"You want, me," You paused, "to come home?"

"Always, Y/N. You scared me half to fucking death today." 

Your mouth opened as if you were to reply but you couldn't find any words. How could you and Rooster go from arguing, to him alluding to something as crazy as this. This conversation was more ridiculous than any of the stunts you had pulled today. 

What made everything worse, was that Rooster's gaze kept flickering from your eyes, to your lips. When he did it a second time, you bit down hard on your bottom lip. It was almost impossible now to control your breathing. You let your chest heave naturally, feeling the front of Rooster's flying suit through the thin material of your tank top. 

It suddenly became clear why you could become so easily pissed off whenever you two were together. Rooster was already under your skin in another way. 

"Y/N…"

"Don't." You reached up to lace your fingers into his brown hair. It was surprisingly soft to the touch. Your forearm rested on his shoulder. He was so close. It wouldn’t take much for you to seal the deal. 

It was Rooster who leant down to you. You rose onto your toes to match the force he was putting into the kiss. It was hungry, messy, but intense. Something had broken inside of you, the dam you had unknowingly put up to hide your feelings had come crashing down. 

You grasped the back of his neck, pulling him as close to you as you could. There was nowhere else to go apart from fall backwards against the cold metal of the locker behind you. Strong hips were on yours, causing you to press into Rooster further. The kiss was broken so fervent kisses could be peppered down the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, sweetheart.” Rooster spoke in punctured frames as he continued to attack your neck. There was going to be evidence of your escapade tomorrow. 

His hand came to a stop on your hip, resting on the elastic of your sweatpants. 

“May I?”

You could only nod. It became impossible to breathe as cool air was exposed to the hot skin of your waist, hips and even further below. Rooster had removed not only your sweatpants, but your panties too. Without breaking eye contact with you, he cautiously moved his whole hand directly between your legs. You jumped when the pads of his fingertips graced your clit. 

Contact was brief as his final destination was further down. He stopped, waiting for a sign from you that he could continue.  Rooster’s eyes lit up as he felt you tense uncontrollably around his one finger. To tease you further, he wasted no time in adding a second, letting out a short, lust-induced laugh when you tightened once again. 

When Rooster curled the two fingers inside of you, your spine arched, the back of your head became the only part of you touching the cool metal of the lockers. You could look up at him, his eyes wide and taking all of you in. Rooster was still holding all your weight, your legs wrapped around his waist. A strong left arm was wrapped around yours, keeping you suspended between the lockers and his body. 

"You're fucking tight, Y/N." 

You whimpered at his filthy remark. His voice was low and husky. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, sending a mind numbing amount of pleasure through your core. It was as if your body knew what to do, your hips rolling by themselves in a coordinated dance. 

"Go on. Ride my fingers, baby girl."

"St-" You went to let out a desperate plea for Rooster to stop talking. You weren't going to last much longer if he continued to speak to you in this way. 

"'Stop'?" You could practically hear him smirking. "Now why would I do that?" 

For a moment you thought he had. Pressure left your core, and you wanted to scream when you saw him bring his soaked fingers up to his mouth. 

"You taste good, Y/N. So why should I stop there?"

In one swift movement, your places were changed. Rooster was below you now, head rested comfortably where his right hand had been moments before. He now held you up by your ass, his palms kneading into your skin. Tufts of his hair traced the inside of your thighs. You could feel his breath warm on your core. 

You looked down at him, eye-lids fluttering as it became impossible to hold them open. The flat of his tongue moved up your slit, until he was able to neatly suck the small bump of your clit. A strangled cry fell out of you as you squirmed. Hands were on your ass, keeping you held perfectly to his face. You weren't going anywhere - not until Rooster had made you cum right there in the locker room. 

“Bradley…” His name fell from your lips as if it was made for you to say it. This time it was Rooster who made an animalistic noise from between your legs. 

“You’re gonna cum for me, Y/N. My sweet Butterfly…”

That was it. With those final words spoken you became undone right there. Right in the open in the communal locker room. You practically rode Rooster’s face as your orgasm racked your frame. He held you firm however, keeping you angled perfectly so he could help you ride through the high. Rooster only stopped when he was satisfied. You had collapsed onto him, your weight completely on his shoulders. He continued to clean you up with his mouth, finishing with a final kiss to your clit. You were too spent to react. 

Rooster bundled you into his arms. He sat back onto the tiled floor, holding you in his lap. He seemed hesitant to kiss you again, after his previous excursions. You didn’t mind, initiating this kiss yourself. You were all over him, in every way possible. 

“God, we should have done that sooner.” 

“You just needed to stop being a dick.” You smirked. 

This made Bradley laugh. “I can’t promise anything, sweetheart.” 

Masterlist

[wizkiddx]

hiii!!! omg please please pleasee do a part two of 3 hearts broken cus it fucking slaps miss girl

part 2 to 3 broken hearts!!! ive been so 🥺 at all the lovely comments+interest pt 1 had so thanku all !

summary: serious serious angst again will tom somehow get it back (unlike looking cos boy is a fool)

warnings: again lots of swearing (im British sorry not sorry) / wayyyy too much tea / slating Dom abit (obvs fictional but idk if I like the guy sorry his opinions are :/) / commitment issues

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

read part 1 here!!!!

That was three days ago now. Three days since you'd spoken to your boyfrien- well, Tom. It wasn't evident what the situation was.

The typical British weather brought with it the most ironic pathetic fallacy you could ever see. The clouds were dark and glooming, firing angry pellets of rain out as hard as they could. When you had pulled up on the roadside, it had just been a light drizzle but synchronised with your anxiety levels rising - so did the rain. When you finally opened up the car door, you threw your hoodie open with a sigh before running up the pathway to the front door.

It was the same burgundy red that you knew so well, but this time instead of just letting yourself in - you stood in the rain used the brass knocker thing twice. To be honest, you were hoping that no one was home - but in that house, it was pretty unlikely. After 30 seconds of getting drenched in the downpour, you were about to let yourself in with the spare key before the door swung open.

"Oh! Er Y/n?"

"Yeh um hi." You had to shout a bit over the sound of what must now be classified as a storm.

"Toms not-"

"I know. Can I come in?" As awkward and stunted as this conversation was, if you didn't get out of the rain asap you would literally end up drowned.

“Oh er yeh-yeh yeh come in.”

Harry stammered as he held the door open, gesturing for you to enter into the tiled hallway. Gratefully, you followed, throwing your sopping wet hood back down and wiping your feet on the floor.

"Sorry for just showing up, but I left some scripts here. My management are on my arse to read them and-"

"And you waited till Tom left for mum and dads?" The fluffy-haired boy has caught you red-handed; there was no defence, so you didn't even try.

Because yes, you knew on a Friday afternoon when Tom was home he would always, like clockwork, go to his parents just to kick back and watch gogglebox with both of them. It was only natural then that you chose Friday afternoon to come and pick up your stuff.

"I've been waiting in my car for half an hour till I saw him leave." Harry half laughed at that, still the two of you standing opposite each other in the hallway. "Um, do you… do you hate me Harry?"

Clearly, he hadn't quite been expecting your question going by the way his eyes almost bugged out his head.

"No, I-I, of course, I don't… look, I'm home alone so you fancy a cuppa?" Not being able to help the small chuckle, you nodded appreciatively, following Harry through the house.

"Your answer to everything is tea."

Harry had prepared the two mugs in silence as you sat at the table waiting patiently - if nervously too. You didn't miss how Harry had still used your favourite mug, having had to dig through the cupboard to find the weird square-shaped thing. Once done, he rounded the kitchen island and placed it in front of you, which you instantly cradled in two hands - for the hope of warming you up.

"You cold?" Obviously, it was pretty evident that sitting in your rain-soaked hoodie was not cosy at all. "Hang on a sec."

The boy sprung up again, returning moments later with a hoodie in hand, one he offered out to you with a little smile. The issue was that him and Tom shared clothes, so the hoodie he was kindly offering to you also had been worn by Tom before. Which made it hurt a little bit to wear. It was better than sitting soaked through though.

"How have you been then?"

"Not the best, to be honest, but uh… how about you?"

"Being with Tom while he's fighting with you? Oh, it's a barrel of laughs. You might've escaped it, but I haven't." He was trying to lighten the mood, and you appreciated it, offering him a half-smile that didn't really meet your eyes.

"Yeh sorry about that."

"Don't apologise; it doesn't sound like it's your fault Y/n."

That surprised you. Tom, especially when he was in moods like he was when you argued, wasn't one to admit when he was wrong. It was usually how the world was against him and how he was so hard done by. Accepting responsibility was something he hadn't said to you yet - but at least, small steps.

"He say that?"

"Pretty much… doesn't seem like he's angry at you, but-but he's still angry."

"At the world?" You rolled your eyes; this seemed to be the same old Tom through and through. Still immature. Still not with the right mindset.

"At himself." Harry countered, slightly entertained, when he saw the flash of surprise in your face as he sipped his drink. "And me… if I dare to so much as breathe this week."

This time you properly laughed, and Harry joined in too before the room fell back to silence - except the noise of the rain hitting the garden patio slats. You swirled the tea round in your mug, feeling the brunette's eyes on you. He'd always been your fake little brother too, since you'd met the Hollands way back 3 and a half years ago. Tom and yourself were barely adults, which meant the twins were still proper children. Harry had always been the one that understood you. Hollands, by nature, loved humans - loved to talk, to chat, to gossip. But sometimes, doing all that socialising got too much for you, as it did for Harry. He was the only one that seemed to understand social exhaustion. So when those moments had hit, you'd kept each other company in silence.

He got you, sometimes in ways your own boyfriend didn't.

"You know why he got so worked up, right?" You shook your head, looking up curiously. "Dad got under his skin on his birthday zoom thing."

Ah, now that did seem to coincide with the start of Tom's more petulant phase. To be fair, Tom had been asking to move in together for near enough a year now - but it was only in the past month it seemed to be the only thing you'd talk about and obviously only three days since the flight back. Dom's birthday barely a week ago, whilst you and Tom were both filming - except Tom had managed to get a day off where you hadn't. So you hadn't heard this conversation.

"What'd he say?"

"Was talking about how he and mum were settling down at Toms age, joked about how you rejected him, said maybe you were holding out for something better."

"Something better?" Harry sighed, leaning forward onto his elbows.

"He'd seen an article just off a trashy tabloid… it named you Hollywood's golden girl or something, said you could have the pick of any person on the planet…"

Of all the people in the world, why is Tom affected by shit journalism? He knows how much bullshit people write. He knows how it's all made up, exaggerated nonsense. And what he should know, completely and totally, is how much you love him. And if he didn't, was that your fault? Had you done something wrong, something to make him doubt you?

Harry seemed to notice the internal dialogue going on in your head, adding to the point. "It wasn't the article though, it was the fact dad said it."

Hmmm.

You and Dom got on; it wasn't like you hated the possible future father in law or whatever. Just…. you had very different outlooks. As much as Tom prided himself on how' grounded his family keeps him' -to you at least, they aren't entirely at sea level either. They'd never really had any particular struggles in life. They were the definition of middle class, and that's about it. They lived in a posh suburb of London, had all their family still around. It was the perfect family.

And whilst you were in no illusions about how privileged your life was now. It hadn't always been. You'd never had the 'nuclear' family. Instead, only your dad and a string of dodgy and fleeting stepmothers while struggling to make ends meet. So you were just always wary of Dom, of his opinions that so often his boys took for gospel. They always seemed pretty sheltered and close-minded.

And yet, Tom was a grown man.

"I get that, I just… Tom should know that we know more about our relationship than his dad. I mean,… have I done something wrong? Made him think I'm not in this for the long haul?"

"No nonono Y/n he's just… well he's an idiot, isn't he? I don't think he properly understands why you're cautious about moving and everything. He's just an idio- "

Harry was cut off for lightly insulting his brother by the sound of the front door opening, both of your heads swivelling towards the source. You then met Harry's eyes in a panic, to which he replied relatively simply.

"Just talk to each other. For my sake." You would've argued if it weren't for the fact you were so focused on Tom's shuffling around in the entrance hallway - back early from his parents.

"Baz? Where you at? I thought I saw Y/n's car and-"

"Kitchen!!!" Before Tom could say anything else, possibly landing himself in more trouble, Harry interrupted as his chair screeched while standing up. And then Tom was just there. Standing in the doorway, his arms dropping limply to his side as he noticed you. Everything about that moment seemed to freeze, when you locked eyes with him for the first time in three days. It didn't go unnoticed, the way his Adams apple bobbed, the way his eyes widen. The boy looked plain and simply terrified.

It was Harry who broke the silence, after giving you a stern look that said 'stay'. The younger Holland boy walked up to Tom and spoke.

"Try actually talking and actually listening about your problems with each other." And then he was gone, down the hallway and up the stairs.

For a few moments, Tom stayed absolutely stationary, now staring at where Harry had been when speaking to the both of you (but mainly Tom). Long enough to put your sense of unease at an all-time high, ready to make a break for it.

"If you don't want to talk, then I can leav-"

"NO!" Apparently snapping out of it, Tom exclaimed loud enough to make you flinch from your seat. "Sorry! I-I just… I wasn't expecting to… you know, to see you."

"Yeh I just uh- just came to pick up some scripts… Harry cornered me with a tea, though; otherwise, I'd be…."

"Baz thinks the whole world could be fixed with tea."

"that's what I said!" You instinctively responded, forgetting the fact you're supposed to be mad at him, and just for a second falling back into your normal flow.

Tom didn't even try to hide his grin in response, until you quickly corrected your face- then he did too. Turning around to put the kettle on for himself. Because right now, he needed to fix his whole world, and he needed all the help he could get. For a period, the only noise was the sound of the kettle boiling, then the teaspoon clinking against the mug as he stirred - until he padded over, taking the seat across from you.

"So."

"So."

"It's been a while," Tom stated the bloody obvious.

"You never called."

"Didn't think you'd want me to."

You thought that the early signs weren't all that auspicious. His ability to read a situation once again failing.

"I wanted you to say something."

"Say what?"

"What do you think Tom?" He replied to the sarcastic tone by sucking in a sharp breath, holding it for a second, before slowly exhaling. As if trying to compose himself, take time to think of a response - a mature move for him.

"Well, I think you want me to say sorry? For being so moody and not waiting for you and for upsetting those kids. And thanks too, for covering for me?"

You just hummed. Waiting for him to continue. Because yes, you did deserve all those things. But you also deserved more. An apology for, oh I don't know, saying he didn't think you loved him? It was a wait that never ended, he had nothing more to add.

"Going by your face, I take it I missed something?"

The bloody cheek of it.

"Theres nothing else? Nothing else at all? …" You gave him that chance, the opportunity but all he could respond with was a shake of his head. "You thought I was fine about you saying that I don't love you?" You hadn't intended on raising your voice, but really you hadn't realised you did till after the fact. To blinded by rage at his ignorance.

"You want to talk about this now?"

"When else Tom?" You sighed, realising he perhaps wasn't ready for this conversation. Maybe he needed more time to think things through, have sense talked into him by various wiser family members. Or maybe, he never would be. That was the worst-case scenario. But also… you're most likely prediction.

He shuffled in his seat, clearing his voice but not saying anything. Not a peep.

"I have spent three years of my life with you. I've had countless nights of too little sleep because that was the only time you could facetime. I've exposed my relationship to the world and people's opinions because you didn't want to hide. All I've done is love you. How could you even say that?" There might've been tears in your eyes, yet you were determined to keep them at bay. You needed to have this out, one way or another, to be clear and cohesive and logical. No time to cry.

"Y/n I know that, I…" He sighed, instinctively reaching for your hand, but you were quicker to pull it away. There was hurt in his eyes, but so there should be. "It just sometimes feels like that's it for you. That yeh you love me but you just want to standstill. That this is as much as it'll ever be."

Your emotions were suddenly uncontainable. Your voice croaked as you whispered, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No love, nonono if that's how you feel then that's okay. But it's something I'm not… shit this is hard." He took a pause to take a sip of his drink, your glazed eyes never leaving his. "I don't think I can stand still anymore. And yeh I was pissy and childish the other day because my dad got under my skin about the whole moving in thing… But these past few days, it just has got me thinking. Because I love you, so much."

This time when he reached out to grab your hand, you actually leaned into it yourself. Not because you were giving in, but because this hurt. This hurt so fucking much that you needed something to ground you, or else god knows. Because the way he was speaking, it sounded so finite.

"I love you too."

"I do know, which is…is why this is so hard." At the very least, Tom had conceded that.

The conversation ceased to silence yet again. The room felt so cold; even Tom/Harry's hoodie was doing nothing to keep you from the endless empty cold that seemed to be coming from within.

"When I re-registered my health card last month, and I made you my emergency contact on it. I-I made you my next of kin on everything actually. I didn't think about it twice. And-and this-"You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, immediately pulling up the app onto the open page. "This is my Pinterest board for our baby's nursery theme. I know-" You paused, to quickly wipe your cheeks clear of the tear tracks that may or may not have been there. "I know it's probably a long way away, but I just love the Scandinavian theme." You laughed at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at your blabbering and quickly pulled up a different app. "And this… this was from the other week when I was helping Y/bf/n start her vows." Hands trembling as you turned the phone around for Tom to see again. "She was finding it really tricky so she said, what would you say to Tom on your wedding, so-so I made this list." You only dared to look at him when you were sure he'd be reading through that note.

It was bizarre because he looked… well, he looked happy. Here you were feeling traumatised, showing things that you'd barely even deeped how committed they were - and he was pleased? Feeling the fire burn once again inside of your chest, you quickly swiped the phone away and back into your pocket. Only then did he look up, eyes widening - presumably at quite how psychotic you looked.

"So don't you dare say that I don't want a future with you."

You said it with such force, there was a pause. Tom letting those words sink deep into his brain. The way his expression flickered minutely gave you hope. You thought he got it. You thought he really understood now.

"But why don't you want to move in then?"

There it was again. He knew why. But he didn't get it. And, probably, he never would.

You were about to crash completely. So you ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even aware of your chair crashing to the floor in your wake. You ran out of that house and away from him. Away from who you had thought was the love of your life.

?give tom a final chance w one last part?

feedback is always v v appreciated <3

tom taglist : @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08

people i think might be interestd in this (sorry if not just let me know and i'll remove the tag!!!): @obiwanownsmyass @wildxwidow @parkersvogue @coffeewithoutcaffeine @tomhollandlol @thefallenbibliophilequote @clumsymandu @hiraethenthusiast @mannien @abrielleholland @evermorehabit @niallberry @greatpizzascissorstaco @runawayolives @annathesillyfriend @letsgotothemoonlight @lovelybarnes

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ broken mirrors﹫jaehyun jung

pairing : jaehyun x reader (f), ft. nct dream and johnny. 

genre : angst, smut, horror-ish, cursed!jaehyun, (kind of bloody mary!au), college!au. 

warnings : jaehyun is meant to be kind of twisted, some toxic and manipulative behaviour from him, black magic, mentions of rituals, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, mention of anxiety, voyeurism, choking, guided masturbation, degradation, pet names : doll, darling, kid, reminder jaehyun is an entity from the victorian era, reader is kind of reckless and impulsive. 

word count : 25k exactly. 

synopsis : where your college friends recall a creepy legend known around your university about a man that appears in mirrors and grants you two wishes when summoned. Jisung is dared to say his name three times and see what happens. you at first brush it off as some copy of bloody mary but, when your friend chickens out and swears something happened in that bathroom, you can’t deny the shift in atmosphere everyone felt. once in your dorm, the urge to try it out mixed with fear pushes you over the edge. it’s probably fake anyways, right ? you summon Jung Jaehyun in the middle of the night, on your bed, and he is not what you expected him to be. 

a/n : this was supposed to be a short one shot, lol. reminder this isn’t an all pink story. for the people who’ve read my other stuff, it’s quite different from what i usually write ! also, this isn’t proofread. in case tags don’t work : @nct-writers​ @neowritingsnet​ @thekpopnet​.

“Do you seriously believe in this kind of shit ?” laughs Jeno, a bit too loudly for the other students probably peacefully resting in the dorms right next to his. One hand covers the economics student’s mouth, visibly chewing on some chips and guacamole freshly made for tonight. Jaemin whines at the obvious joke his friend is making him out to be in front of everyone, a pout on his rosy lips. Poor thing, a dusty pink colors his cheeks – noticeable despite the low lighting of Jeno’s room - he looks down at the half empty plate, crumbs of potatoes on the ceramic.

“At least let me tell the story !”, Jaemin argues, slapping the red haired’s hand away. Stealing one of the last larger chips, Jaemin dips it in the smashed avocado. The blonde eats his chip almost aggressively, a victorious noise coming out of his closed mouth when Jeno notices the little amount of guacamole he left for him. 

“We were supposed to watch a scary movie, telling creepy stories’ the next best option.”, you say, leaning back against your friend’s Fatboy. Tonight was yet another one of these half improvised movie nights with your college friends. Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle and Donghyuck were all in your campus, in different courses and yet, you all managed to come together in one tight neck group. Every week, one member of the group would host a little something to celebrate…not dying ? Yeah, something like that.  

Thursday, tonight was obviously Jeno’s turn to hold the gathering, he had proposed a nice horror movie night but, Jisung, a language student, ended up chickening out after hearing the movie’s synopsis. You don’t really blame him, though, the story was meant to keep its viewers up for nights. 

“Jisung’s a pussy !”, Donghyuck teases the young man, a hand ruffling his peach hair to annoy him even more. “I have things to do tomorrow and I need my sleep !”, he defends himself for the nth time tonight, a new argument each time. The other boys aren’t really bothered by the change, movies usually get lost in the group’s banter and casual conversations anyways. You can count on two hands the number of movies you entirely watched with your friends. 

“He’s gonna get scared by some stories, too.”, the brunette continues his teasing like he usually does. Jisung pushes him to the side as an answer, before crossing his arms over his chest. Like everyone else, he’s already wearing his pyjamas, his and everyone else’s dorm room is in the same building and so, everyone could get to their bed in minutes, if not seconds.

“He’s going to knock at your door tonight, Y/N.”, Jeno joins in, all very well knowing that the peach haired’s dorm is right next to yours, seconds away. There’s a snore from Donghyuck, slapping a hand on the wooden table as he adds something to the conversation too, one you don’t catch. “Oh no, don’t. But I can give you a plushie if you’re really scared.”, you join in before immediately wrapping an arm around your friend for comfort.

“’m joking. Come on, what’s your story, Jaemin.”, you hum, letting Jisung lean his head against your shoulder with a whine, pout on his pink lips. 

“Lets do one each, yeah ? I have a story to tell and we’ll see who will really need a plushie.”, taunts the young man at your side, though no one truly believes him at first. Jisung, having scary stories to tell ? Hard to believe. 

“Wait ! We need to get in the mood !”, interjects Jaemin, getting up from his position on the floor. He easily navigates in the room with Jeno, like a third home. The first closes all windows, pushes curtains and turns off any lights to, like he said, get in the creepy mood. 

“H-Hey ! Can we at least keep one on ?”, Chenle joins the peach haired as a laughing point for the other boys, but Jaemin quickly obliges and lets the light of the small bathroom on for his friend, you suspect he didn’t like the complete lack of light either. You can barely see the front door from your spot, the yellowish light easily drowns the group in the storytelling atmosphere and, Jaemin joins the group again. “Wait, one last thing !”, searching for something in a drawer next to his bed, Jeno ends up taking a red candle out with a victorious sound. It hasn’t been touched at all, you inspect it a bit closely when your friend sets it on the wooden table. 

“Got it because of TikTok, it has something in it.”, he mumbles out, running a hand in his dyed hair, almost embarrassed. You wonder again how almost everyone in this group has their hair a different shade of some unnatural colour and yet, dried locks aren’t falling out on the dorm floor - yet. Thumb on his lighter, Jeno tries a few times before he gets a flame steady enough, bringing it to the white thread sticking out of his impulsive purchase.

“There, now we’re in the mood.”, proud of his little setup, the red haired sits down again, a small giggle escaping his lips at Chenle’s frightened look, already sheltering himself with his arms. The candle smells like strawberries, tall flame wavering under your friends’ breaths, the red haired slaps your hand away when you try to dig in the melted wax for the mystery treasure with one of his forks. 

“Now, Jaemin ! Let us hear your story.”, slapping his hands together, Donghyuck leans a bit closer to the center of the table. It is no secret in the group that Donghyuck has a love for scary stories and anything crime related, it seems he has been waiting for this moment. His face gets enlightened by the small candle, a weird angle that changed his features. “Try and scare us.”, the dance student challenged. 

Jisung’s arm wraps and tightens around your own when Jaemin takes the little light in his own hands, bringing the flame under his face. “Alright, do you guys know what’s a…Banshee ?”, his last word comes out as a whisper, letting the last syllable hang in the air for a few. “Oh, no.”, Renjun’s head rolls back, it rests against Jeno’s bed for a bit as he squeezes his eyes shut, whining in almost pain.  “Oh, yes. Renjun knows this story.”, remembers Jaemin, a smile stretching his lips, devilish. Everyone else comes a bit closer to the table, curiosity poked by Renjun’s natural reaction. You’re the only one shaking your head from left to right, but you doubt the others know about what the storyteller’s talking about. 

“A Banshee’s a female spirit whose wailing warns of a death in a house.”, starts Jaemin, hands dancing around the small flame, probably enjoying the heat, drawing slight shadows on the walls. He pays no attention to the small gasp falling from Chenle’s lips, about to continue. “Wow, Wikipedia. Big boy words.”, notifies Jeno, earning a death glare by the narrator. 

“It happened years ago, me and my family were on vacation in Ireland. You guys know, I have some relatives there. It was for a wedding, so all my cousins and I were staying at my Uncle’s house.”, finally starts Jaemin, voice a lot quieter. The young medicine student easily gets the entire group captivated with his words and aura. Even Renjun who already knows this story, even Jisung who usually, does not like scary tales. It is clear the intimate aspect of a story lived by a friend helps a lot, it isn’t anything mainstream or heard before, it adds to the mystery. For the next minutes, the young man tells his story with as much seriousness as he can, keeping the candle right under his face.  

“We were all around the ages of ten and thirteen, my Uncle’s house was deep in the Irish country side. I remember that parents would all sleep on the first floor and let us have the second for big sleepovers. So, my cousins and I would stay late and watch horror movies. I mean, you let kids alone, obviously they’re going to stay up late, right ?” Haechan only agrees while Jisung lets about a “this isn’t starting very well.”, eyebrows furrowed, cheek rubbing against your shoulder. “But eventually, my Uncle would come up and switch off the TV. You guys don’t know him but he’s...Special. He wouldn’t walk us to bed right away, he’d tell us about Banshees. Irish spirits, he’d describe them to us. A fragile, old woman with ripped clothes. Black hair down to her feet, sickly white skin and a veil over her red, bloody eyes.” Jaemin lets the description sink in, your face contours at the thought, you don’t have to look at Jisung to know he has the same expression on his. Donghyuck, him, is smiling a bit too much, leaning closer to the narrator for more. Jeno is strangely afraid too, towing with a loose thread sticking out of his blanket.  “Her screams have one meaning. Someone is going to die.”, Jaemin dramatically lets out the last word, keeping a straight, serious face even when Donghyuck cooes. “I hate this.”, you mumble out, to which Jisung agrees. “My Uncle would tell us about how clocks would stop, all of a sudden, fall off walls and crash on the floor before hearing a Banshee. Lights would turn on and off, flicker, doors would fly open without a breeze and slap against the walls. Paintings and pictures would fall down. He’d describe the keening as high pitch sounds, it’d pierce your soul and make every hair on your body stand.” Another pause, it’s clear Jaemin already told this story. There, he mimics the sound of a keening Banshee. And, if you think he’d sound silly, he does. High pitched is not a sound your friend can achieve and, it takes a few laughs here and there. Chenle visibly relaxes, back leaning away from the Fatboy. “He’d then walk us to bed after his Banshee story and we’d stay awake out of fear, you know. Just staring outside the windows, at the dark, Irish country side. Pitch black, no lights, tall - tall trees. It was during the winter, a wedding in the snow. And so, his big garden would be fogged up. A dense, white fog, we could barely see anything.”

The small flame grows taller, it wavers again under Jaemin’s words, light dancing on the red haired’s table. “One night, after my Uncle walked us to bed, me and my cousins were looking outside when we saw it.” Jisung shivers next to you without even hearing the rest, you almost giggle at his reaction. Both the narrator’s palms softly hit the table before he continues. A sound leaves his lips, like the image his memory is forming in front of his eyelids is enough to scare him. “We saw one.”, Jaemin finally announces. 

In another situation, Donghyuck would be the first one to deny or refute Jaemin’s words. No you didn’t, you almost say but, your lips part for a second, without a sound. Hyper focusing on your friend, you can’t deny the slight shiver that runs down your spine when he continues. “Red, glowy eyes. Right under a tree. She was wearing a white dress and just like Uncle said. She was taller than Uncle described, she could probably easily touch the tall branches of the trees. Skinny, lanky body, we couldn’t see if she had a veil or if it was ripped.” There’s a pause again, Jaemin looks at the clock right behind you and you can not help it, you turn around just in case. “The clock stopped.” Fortunately, he isn’t talking about Jeno’s. 

“No.”, the red haired whispers out but, Jaemin does not even look at him, continuing his story. 

“She wasn’t moving, just standing...there. White dress, black hair. We couldn’t see exactly where she was looking at but it was clear she was staring at our house. And then…”, for a second time, the young man mimics a Banshee’s scream but, it’s too good this time. It’s quiet enough that he does not bother Jeno’s neighbors, but high pitched and blood drenching. The quiet scream is drawn out, Jaemin leans on his palms and elevates himself before he’s out of breath, stopping abruptly. “Dude.”, you whisper out, getting a look from Jisung.  

“And then. She disappeared. We saw her walking between the house and my Uncle’s neighbor’s house. It was so weird, she wasn’t slow, she was walking quickly, so quickly. But it was like her knees weren’t in place, her legs would twitch to the side every now and then.”, Jaemin sits down again, looking at each of his friends in the eyes. You didn’t know he was this good at storytelling, you have to keep yourself from picturing this tall, lanky woman quickly walking in the dark. “We locked all the doors, closed all the windows. We were so scared, we would look at each other like…‘who’s going to die tonight ?’”

“Shut it, no one died.”, the red haired lets out, sentence rushed. But, Renjun finally speaks up, throwing a balled up tissue at your friend, one he cannot dodge, getting hit right on his forehead. “Sht and listen.” 

“We did not sleep at all that night and…”, you almost hit the medicine student at the nth pause, you can’t deny the fact that he has you at the edge of your metaphorical seat. “The next morning, my Uncle found our neighbour. Dead.” 

There’s a gasp from everyone, your eyebrow’s and Donghyuck’s raise up and before you can speak up, Renjun whispers at you to just “wait for the next part.” You hear one of your friends babbling about how it’s all bullshit, but Jaemin never leaves his narrator persona. “We told my Uncle about the Banshee, he had heard it too and since nothing happened to us or our parents, he went to his neighbors’ house. Both really believed in these kind of things, these Irish legends. He was found in his little sofa, turned towards his window. He didn’t have any heart problems but apparently, his heart stopped during the night. My dad told me a bit more two years ago, he was found with his eyes...Wide open.”

The moment Jaemin finishes his little story, questions fly from each side of the table and your friend answers quickly, like he was ready for each one of them. “You can call my mom and ask her about it if you want to, Donghyuck.”, the confidence the medicine student has in his story is enough for the brunette. A nice story to start on, you all note, but the neighbor’s death was probably a weird coincidence, right ? At the very least, that’s what you’d like to think. Finally, when everyone calmed down from Jaemin’s story, he pushed the candle towards Jisung. “Your turn, you said you had a story to tell.” 

Your friend nods quickly, hands resting on the pyramide shape of the candle, frowning at the layer of wax it leaves on his palms. A little pool of melting wax is forming at the top and you wonder for a moment if it’s not going to spill on the table. Everyone’s attention turns towards the new narrator, Jaemin finding a new comfortable position on the floor. “Alright, uh. I don’t have the same storytelling skills as Jaemin and it isn’t the same type of story. You guys know Eric, right ?”, he starts, receiving some hums from Jeno and Jaemin. 

“Eric the Eerie ?”, you ask, almost in disbelief at the mention. At the nickname, Donghyuck almost bursts out laughing, leaning his forehead against Jeno’s table and Renjun pouts a bit at the lack of seriousness his story is already receiving. “Yes, him. The old Litterature student.”, affirms Renjun. You remember the guy, tall and lanky, legend has it that he suddenly went from the bottom of his class to the very top almost overnight, collecting amazing grades after amazing grades. No one knew how he did it. Plus, he was a bit weird. It might seem a bit mean but, his appearance didn’t help and, he would not talk to anyone either, he avoided big bodies of water and mirrors, you doubt he had any friend here, too. He’d apparently sit in the back of his class and, when he graduated, he took his diploma first and left. Nowhere to be seen now. 

“Didn’t he graduate last year ?”, Jaemin asks, grabbing a bottle of juice from the side. Even in the dark, he is able to pour himself a glass full without spilling it everywhere.

“He did, yeah. Did you guys hear about the legend ? The one around how he got his grades up ?”, there’s a sound coming from your mouth, half confused and half intrigued. “Uh ?” Jaemin hums loudly, the sound resonates between the walls of his glass as his eyes blow wide for a second. “The Yoonoh thing ? I heard about that but not in details.” Apparently, Jaemin isn’t the only one who recalls the name. It is one you and all your friends have heard before, right when you entered your university. It wasn’t mentioned in the flyers or, by the teachers, even. It was first brought up during a party hosted by older students, one where they all told you about the campus’ legends and stories. 

“His name’s written all over the walls of the old building. Also, it’s in the main building’s restroom, I think.”, Renjun informs and your memory clicks. Your university has many buildings but, one of them, a bit further away from the campus, is abandoned. It has been for years now but you and your friends decided to visit it out of curiosity during your first year, a bit after the party. You could say it was pretty underwhelming, nothing too special if it wasn’t for old structures and dirty floors. Empty classes and weird smells, like any other abandoned places, you could say. You remember the same name being written over and over again on the walls, the desks, some mirrors. Younger you thought it was only a weird legend older students used to scare the new ones.

“Oh, right. What about it ?”, Jeno asks, eyebrows raising a bit at the new storyteller. 

“Do you guys remember the legend ?”, you nod again and, help your other friends remember the old tale. Once upon a time, a man cursed, cursed in mirrors forever. Able to travel from room to room, forced to appear whenever properly summoned by someone. How did he end up with such a faith ? You do not know or, maybe you don’t remember what your older friends told you. Yoonoh was - or is -, his name. Much like Bloody Mary, call his name three times and he’ll eat your reflection, take your place in your mirror and offer you two wishes. Two and not three, the last one he keeps to himself, he’ll ask for something in return. The rest of the story is quite blurry, it changed from course to course. Some people said he’d trap people in mirrors, other that he was a creepy, demonic looking creature asking for quite gory things. You had to say, when the story was told the night of the party, you got a bit creeped out but, you forgot about it since. 

“Apparently, Eric summoned him. Midway through the school year, he summoned him in his bedroom and used one of his two wishes for better grades. The first wish was granted but, Yoonoh wanted Eric to sacrifice a friend to him. No one knows if he managed to do it or not, apparently he didn’t use his second wish and since, Yoonoh follows him everywhere he goes.”, Renjun dramatically says but, the effect isn’t one he anticipated for his little story. There’s a laugh from Donghyuck, quickly followed by Jeno. “C’mon dude, we wanted a scary story.”, interjects the medicine student and, you only hide your chuckle by drinking your juice. Poor Renjun pouts, trying to regain the attention of his friends. “Wait, listen ! Doesn't it make sense ? Like...Like, I see it happening.”, big pearly eyes find Jisung for some support, but his friend only looks away to hide his smile too. 

“That story’s bullshit, I thought you knew.”, Jaemin finally says, sighing a little. 

“But the grades going up ? How he’d dodge mirrors like the plague ? He even took the mirror from his bathroom and bedroom out.”, Renjun argues, leaning a bit too closely to the small flame. You wonder for a moment who exactly, decided to take advantage of your gullible friend. “It’s fake.”, Jisung says again, mimicking your friend. He gets a death glare from the fallen storyteller who didn’t have the throne for too long, pushing the candle to the center of the table.

“Alright…”, he starts, palms flat on the flat surface. Renjun plants his eyes into Jisung’s, small smile tugging at his lips at the thought crossing his mind. “I dare you to summon him.”

Oh, your friends still act like teenage boys. You don’t blame them, quite the contrary, you join them when they almost scream at the challenge thrown out. Everyone knows Jisung never turns a dare down, it probably has to do with his pride. But tonight, tonight might be the first time he does. Eyes scanning everyone, Jisung takes a bit too long to answer. There’s a bunch of “do it”’s from around the table, Jeno and Jaemin weirdly dancing to the beat of your words. 

“Yoonoh ? Dude…”, eyes blown wide, he looks around at the uproar the narrator created, almost sending daggers. “I thought it was bullshit ?”, sarcastically asks Renjun, propping his chin on his hand, still on the table. Donghyuck calls him a chicken after some seconds of thinking and, this does it for Jisung’s pride and ego. 

“He’s gonna do it !”, Jeno chokes out, hands thrown in the air in victory. The medicine student at his side takes the lit candle in his palms and offers it to Jisung once he finally stands up with an audible sigh, head low like a knight in front of a Queen. “It’s...fake anyways.”, he reassures himself alone, brushing his pyjamas. Slowly walking towards the dimly lit bathroom, Jisung quickly looks behind him to see if anyone stops him. Clearly, no one does. 

“Do you remember how to do it ?”, Renjun asks, not even hiding his smile at Jisung’s obvious lack of confidence, a first. Shaking his head from left to right, Renjun quickly writes it down on a piece of paper, himself not daring saying it out loud. Standing up like the rest of your group, you look over your friend’s shoulder. He’s writing a few sentences down by memory, sentences you remember from the first university party. 

“Mirror, mirror, mirror. Take my reflection as home. Show me my deepest, darkest desires. Give to me, take from me. Yoonoh, Yoonoh, Y…” 

“I didn’t want to write his name three times.”, Renjun mumbles out, handing the small piece of paper to your friend, waiting in front of the bathroom door. You audibly laugh at his confession, poking Donghyuck with your elbow to react his words. “And I am the chicken ?”, Jisung asks a bit too offended, to which Jeno only pushes him inside the room. “I never said I wasn’t !” 

Jeno tries to close the door behind him as quickly as possible but, Jisung is quicker and blocks the attempt with an arm, frightened look flashing in his eyes for a second, he already hates this. His mouth falls open the moment you turn the light off, only lit by the small candle and Jaemin’s phone’s light. “Do I have to ?”, he whines, quickly looking behind him. All the dorms have the same bathroom, small and packed, it seems Jisung never saw his bathroom in the dark or maybe, the candle lit adds to the creepiness. “Yes, you have to !”, it’s almost a harmony between you and Chenle and, with Jaemin’s help, the door gets closed and traps Jisung in the small room. Poor thing, you hear him let a whine out while your friends giggle, tapping on the door. 

“C’mon, Jisung.”, Jaemin pushes him on and, you hear him mumble something on the other side. Finally, silence. Jisung probably sets the candle down, whines again about how he can’t read your friend’s handwriting. After a few minutes, he mumbles a few things again, voice audibly shaky. Jeno lets his nails travel down the painted wood of his door and, the poor thing reacts, loudly tapping the door. 

“Is he doing it ?”, you ask quietly, ear to the door. “I think ?”, Donghyuck can only guess before he gestures to his friends to back away and stay silent. In Jeno’s dorm, badly lit, all packed in front of his door, you think it’s all fun and games. Finally, you hear Jisung say the first words with an ounce of confidence, clearing his throat every now and then, mirror, mirror, mirror. Your eyes grow wide, palms slightly sweaty, you have to rub them against your pyjama pants and crouch a bit down. He reads almost like a robot, a monotone voice he uses to add some humor in all of it, act nonchalant when you’re pretty sure he’s shitting himself in there. However, when you hear the second to last sentence, your blood rushes through your veins, he sounds different, like he’s finally taking it all seriously. It’s weird, your brain is convinced nothing is going to happen and yet, your heart races for him and the possibilities of what can happen between these four walls. You were never the one to believe in such things but, the adrenaline and thrill always got to you, always managed to scare you a bit and keep you up at night. It seems the situation does the same to your friends. Quickly, flashlights join Jaemin’s, you even see Chenle biting down on his lower lip, backing a bit away. At this very moment, you don’t know it yet but, your friend has a weird feeling greeting up his chest. Yoonoh, you hear him say his name once, you fake not feeling the air grow colder around you, goosebumps rising on your nakes arms, it’s probably the open wind-. You remember Jaemin closing every window before starting his story. A second time, Jisung sounds breathless, hesitant to let the word out, even. You almost open the door to let him out but you’re stuck there, unable to move anything but your eyes. Stuck in place, it seems like long minutes go by between your friend’s words. Quickly, you look over at the clock hung up on Jeno’s wall, the very one you thought would fall down during the medicine student’s story and...Is it...Slowing down ? Say it a third time and get out of here, you think to yourself, suddenly feeling sweat gathering on your body. Hairline, back, you fan yourself with your hand but nothing changes. It sounds like he tries to, syllable forming on his lips but nothing more gets out. He tries once, and never finishes. There’s a shiver that runs down your spine, you instinctively glare at Jaemin who stares at the plain door almost too intensively, you see his Adam’s Apple difficulty move up, and down, like he himself, feels the weird shift in atmosphere. When did this dumb dare turn so serious ? Something isn’t right, you don’t dare mention it at that moment, you don’t think you need to anyways. He isn’t able to let the last word out, silence on the other side, you almost think he’s pulling a prank on you before you hear it. You all hear a commotion, you hear Jisung thumble backwards and crash into one of Jeno’s furniture. 

“What the fu-.”, before Donghyuck can even finish his sentence, the door abruptly opens, forcing everyone away from the entrance, your back crashes into Jeno’s chest who stood right behind you. A scared Jisung tumbles out the small room, almost running as fast as possible before letting his body fall on one of the Fatboys with a sound. 

“Dude, what the fuck ?”, Jeno asks, half terrified and half amused, he doesn’t know what to feel yet. Jisung barely answers, he wonders for a moment if his friends won’t make fun of him for what’s going on in his mind. “Something touched me. Something touched me in there.”, he chokes out, breathing chopped. You know, you know Donghyuck is about to make fun of him before he walks towards the man, taken back by the genuinely afraid look he has on his face. “Wha- ? Are you okay ?”, he asks, palm resting on his friend’s upper arm in an attempt to calm him down. 

Your attention gets grabbed by the still open door, you wouldn’t dare say it out loud but, there’s something strange about it. Pulled towards it, your eyes leave your visibly and audibly afraid friend for the dark place. You almost fear going inside and, you only look up at the dark room without entering, something in your body tells you not to. Staying right in front, it’s like you feel the shift in temperature between the living room and bathroom. Why does the bathroom look so...dark ? You barely register it, how the flashlights of your friends’ phones get absorbed by the darkness inside the smaller room, only lit by the small candle. It’s probably your brain, you think to yourself. A brain can do weird things to itself, it can imagine, create but, you’re sure you’re not hallucinating when you see the candle’s flame growing taller, wavering violently before eventually, getting blown. No wind, nothing, the pale trail of grey smoke flies straight upwards and you quickly back away, closing the door behind you in hopes of ending anything that went on in there. 

“Here, here. Look !”, in the meantime, your entire group had gathered around Jisung, amused looks turned into worried ones at his twisted body on the coach. Jisung pulls his short sleeve up and, under Chenle’s flashlight, you think you might hallucinate again. Milky skin glows under the living room’s artificial light when Jaemin turns it on, it contrasts deeply with his epiderme but your brain would rather make anything up than believe your eyes. A light pink, slowly growing a deeper shade of red, five fingerprints around your friend’s arm mark his skin. 

It’s almost two in the morning when your phone rings to the tune of a few texts, screen lightening with a notification from your beloved friend group chat. Body and mind trying its best to rest on your small bed, your eyes travel from your thin, white ceiling to your phone when you bring it up to your face, risking it falling straight on your nose. You quickly swipe a finger on the object and read the last text Jeno sent, something about wanting Jisung to take a shower and rest for the night, quickly followed by your other friends’ words. 

There’s a sigh tumbling from your lips, the slight headache taking place right on your temples makes you want to bury your face right under your pillow but your small dorm is hot, way too hot for that. Window wide open, there isn’t an ounce of wind entering your room. You hate the feeling of sweat growing on your forehead, on your back, fabric sticking to your skin just like it did in front of Jeno’s bathroom. You feel drained, so, so drained. It is something you’re used to, especially after a full week of classes and a night with your friend but tonight, something feels different. There’s something off about your room, it doesn’t feel the same. You aren’t being watched, you know that, but you sure feel like it. Oppressed, stuck in such a small space, you’ve been rolling around your bed for minutes now, unable to sleep. After what happened in Jeno’s own dorm, natural instincts kicked in. All tried to find an excuse for what happened to Jisung, saying maybe your friend got the marks from bumping into the furniture, maybe he got these before even entering the room. Poor thing decided to let himself be convinced by the hypothesis thrown at him but, you couldn’t really understand everything else. The change in temperature, the lack of light, the candle blowing itself out, you can’t find a single excuse except maybe, just maybe, your mind’s playing tricks on you. 

Your thumbs quickly work to type a message for your friend before you drop your device on your bed. Overthinking, that probably is what’s keeping you from falling asleep. It’s crazy, the number of videos around paranormal things you and Donghyuck watched together and yet, you two didn’t think about the rules before starting this stupid dare. Beating yourself up for not taking it seriously, you now remember how you’re supposed to say goodbye whenever starting a seance of Ouija. How you should not disrespect entities, know and do everything by the rules. You almost text Donghyuck about it but, you fear sounding too crazy. 

Instead of Donghyuck, you text Johnny. It’s the urge of knowing more, the curiosity growing in your belly that you did not expect. The tall man’s one of the older students who told you about Yoonoh’s legend during the first party, he studies psychology in your building and you two became quite good friends after a while. He would help little you with administration but also, showed you some spots you still go to, to this day. Good friends, so much so you know he isn’t sleeping at such an hour. And, you don’t feel too guilty when you text him about the legend, almost completely out of the blue. Needless to say, the brunette was a bit taken back by the question. You saw it through his texts, but he quickly told you about all the things he knew and heard around the university legend. The same sentences your friend wrote on a piece of paper, the same Jisung was close to saying fully. A candle, like Jeno unknowingly provided and the young man took to the bathroom. But, there was one thing missing, or rather, two. The one who summons Yoonoh shall write their name on the mirror, clearly and without a mistake. Second, both palms have to be placed on the mirror. Flat, you don’t think you’re allowed to move them while reciting what you’d call a spell, much like on a Ouija board. All the things missing and yet, you still felt a slight shift in Jeno’s dorm, didn’t you ? 

Turning your phone off once you wishing Johnny a good night, you find yourself turning the device on again, seconds after. Scrolling through your Twitter timeline and switching between the same two applications doesn’t help at all. Push it away, that feeling of being watched comes back like a bull. You hate it, so much. It’s just like the aftermath of watching a scary movie, you reassure yourself. Like that one time you watched Annabelle and slept with all your plushies outside your bedroom with the light open, right ? Sitting up on your bed, you almost feel ashamed when you turn your light on, quickly looking around your small dorm. Nothing’s there, nothing’s there. The slight fear adds to the sweat collecting on your skin, you feel too hot and yet, a cold shiver runs down your spine when your back meets your headboard. “It’s just a legend.”, you tell yourself out loud. One time, two times. Bringing your knees to your chest, your hands quickly grab at the thin sheet before you pull it towards your body, as if it’ll shelter you from anything paranormal. It’s just a legend, you tell yourself again when your eyes meet your reflection. What a stupid idea, having such a big mirror right in front of your bed. It takes all of your wardrobe, you remember loving it when you first moved in, taking advantage of the size for pictures. But now, it only added to your fear. You don’t know where to look, eyes traveling from your own body to the sides of your bed, the corners of your room. At least, nothing can hide in here, you think you’d see it immediately. 

Your father would probably laugh at your face if he saw you right now. See, if your mother might believe in anything paranormal, your father never did and never will. He’d always find a scientific reason for anything weird happening in your house, reassuring you as best as he could. If he was here, what would he say, what would he do ? You ask yourself for a minute, keeping your knees close to your body. 

He’d try it, see for himself and prove that the legend was all bullshit. 

Calling him at such an hour wasn’t even an option, could you do it yourself ? You wonder, eyes glued on the mirror. You can not deny the slight curiosity rising in your chest, building up in your body. It’s weird, a morbid interest that has been sitting with you since Jisung ran out of the bathroom, since you saw the candle blow out by itself. Curious and adventurous, you always thought you were and, wouldn’t trying it help you prove the invalidity of the legend ? 

Legs fall back on the bed, you barely can believe yourself when you stand up on your knees, sinking into your mattress. “Do it and go to bed, surely nothing will happen.”, you coach your reflection. You think it’s a mix of fear, pure curiosity and fatigue. Your body craves sleep and, in your half asleep state of mind, you take advantage of your boost of confidence, pushing away the paranoiac side of your brain. If it was real, more people would talk about it. If it was real, where are all the pictures and videos ? Clumsily stepping out of your bed, your feet touch the cold floor as you drag your body towards your makeup bag, blindly dipping a hand in. An old lipstick would do, right ? Right, you don’t even remember the last time you used this Sephora lipstick. The small candle you probably used twice in your life finds another use tonight as you grab it from your shelf, opening the small lid to clean the small bits of burnt thread. 

A few steps is all you need before you stand in front of your mirror, letting your body rest from the little effort you did when you sit down right in front of it. It’s stupid, so so stupid, you think to yourself. Nothing will happen and you’ll tell this very story to your friends the next day, they’ll make fun of you for it for the next week and all will be good. 

Taking the protection of your old lipstick off, you inspect it with a pout. A shame, such a pretty color you never really wore before the expiration date. The deep red stick comes up when you twist the bottom and you have to resist the urge of trying it on your lips, just to see. Rather, just like Johnny said, you write your name on the mirror. The paste easily leaves a red trace under the pressure of your fingers, it’s almost pleasing if you did not know how long you’ll take to clean it off after. Long sticks, you write your name clearly on the mirror before closing your old lipstick, leaving it at your side. Next, your fingers fumble inside your bag, trying to find your lighter. It’s one you rarely use but keep with you just in case and you quickly turn it on. The small flame dances under your mouvements, bringing the cold candle near your lighter. It quickly starts burning in your hands and you place the object right between your body and the mirror. There’s a sigh from your lips, you can’t believe it yourself when you lean forward, both palms flat on the cold surface. Above your name in red lipstick, you dare look at yourself. Actually, if you look at yourself, your attention won’t drift for the back of your bedroom in fear. And so, keeping your eyes on your reflection’s, you take a deep breath. 

“Mirror, mirror, mirror.” you start off pretty easily, the one word rolling off your tongue without a second thought. Now that you’ve started it, you don’t think you can end everything just like that, you learned everything needs to be closed once started. “Take-...Take my reflection as home.”, you stutter, vision getting blurry for the quickest second. Probably the lack of sleep and fatigue, some water coats your eyes and you blink the teardrops away, finding a clear vision again. You sigh out for a second in an attempt to cool your body down, the same feeling slowly plunges on your shoulders. The one you felt while Jisung was doing the same thing but, this time, you were alone. The change in atmosphere is less abrupt but, you still feel it anyways. The air grows hotter, heavier, dense. 

“Show me my deepest, darkest desires.”, you choke out, feeling your palms sweat up, trying your best to resist the urge to whip them. You shift uncomfortably on your spot, pushing away the goosebumps raising on your naked arms again. Wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible, you push all the signs away and continue, though your confidence runs out quickly. “Give to me, take from me.” The small candle flame flickers, it grows taller and, you have to push it away with a knee to prevent it from burning your clothes. Maybe it’s the open window, right ? But here it is again, the feeling of being watched. You hate it, you almost turn around or just, look behind you through the mirror. Instead, a groan escapes your lips, frustrated at yourself, tired, annoyed, scared.

It seems the two sides of your brain disappeared, your thoughts are radio silent, white noise. Fuck it, fuck it. Panic takes over your next actions, it pushes you over the edge. Closing your eyes, your head hangs low and you say the last words. “Yoonoh.”, you start, closing your eyes even more, forcing your eyelids. You feel it, the sudden presence right behind you, you fucking feel it. Your heart picks up right them, you never felt it pump so quickly against your ribcage. Heat burns your cheeks, your ears, your back. Unconsciously, your head hangs lower, shoulders rise up in a protective, natural reaction. 

It truly feels like someone’s right here, with you and yet, you refuse to look. What the fuck are you doing, why the fuck are you doing this ? A hiccup, the outline of a cry tumbles from your lips. Ah, how the fear managed to wash over you like the rising tide eating at the shore. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. Teeth tight against each other, your jaw grows sore as you feel the heat of the small candle at your side. Letting your eyes flutter open the slightest bit, it’s when you see the flame violently dance, shaking from different sides that you decide it has to be over, now. 

“Yoono- Yoonoh, Yoonoh.”, you blur them out so quickly it’d be funny in another situation, the sounds are barely separated from each other, barely make sense. Your tongue feels heavy, mouth clumsy when you finish the spell of. Your irregular, hard breathing almost keeps you from hearing. Hearing it. 

Ah, how long Jaehyun - or Yoonoh - waited and longed for such a moment. Actual hours that felt like years for one of you to summon him properly. And, he has to say, he’s glad you were the one to do it, call him over with your pretty voice, fearful eyes and deadly curiosity. He felt it, the morbid interest peeking in your small body, he knew you would do it the moment you noticed the candle blowing out, he knew you weren’t dumb. See, when Jisung had attempted to summon him, he had almost brought Jaehyun to his mirror, he almost did it. He was so close, so close to it that Jaehyun managed to have a blurry view of the odd scene. Needless to say, the cursed had a good laugh at it but, the anger and frustration he felt at your chicken of a friend still lingered. When was the last time someone summoned him ? Jaehyun does not remember, he doesn’t have any notion of time, he lost it long, long ago. When was the last time he had fun with a foolish human ? He does not remember either but, something tells him he will make it up with you. Jaehyun isn’t alive but, the closest of “alive” he can feel, it’s in moments like this, properly summoned, ready for his deal. Eating your reflection, taking its place easily, the young looking man takes your bedroom in for a second, it’s all in reversed for him who’s stuck in your mirror. Speaking of, he likes it. Big, tall, he notices your name neatly written in what he guesses is red lipstick. Taking your reflection’s place, both his hands lay flat against your palms, kneeled down, he’s significantly taller than you but still, he notices the contourcion in your features, the fear. He loves it, he loves oh so much. The fear, the regret, he adores it all. He knows it’ll be even better once you open your eyes and understand your faith. Mirroring your position, the man doesn’t move, he loves the proximity, how close your face is to his. Wicked smile on his rosy lips, it tugs up at a side, pearly white canine showing, the tip of his tongue rests on the sharp tooth. Oh, he’ll eat you up and savour it just like he did with your reflection.

“Hi, Y/N.”

The reactions, Jaehyun thrives off the reactions. The fear in people’s eyes, the tears, the cries, the shouts, the realisation flashing, twisting people’s features, he fucking gets off of it. He knows what to expect and yet, when you finally open your eyes, barely take in his face and jump back immediately, he chuckles out, he groans happily, excited even. You barely believe it, a man replaces your reflection, he doesn’t follow your movements when you tumble backwards and feel your spine hit your bed, the scream you were about to let out getting knocked out of your lungs. Instead, it’s a loud whine you let out. What the fuck, the actual fuck. Both your hands cover your mouth, Jaehyun notices how shaky they are and cooes, head tilting to the side. What a pretty toy to play with. A knee down, the other leg bent against his chest, the man in the mirror lets his head rest there, patiently waiting for you to finally speak up. Strangely, he’s a patient man, he had some people run away on him, not speak for hours at the shock, even. You think you’re hallucinating, you almost pinch yourself but you know, you’d be awake if this was a dream. The impact of your bed against your back tells you that this, this is real. As much as your brain hates to believe it, takes minutes to process it and still has its doubts, you react just in case. You react out of pure instinct. The bag you use everyday gets pulled next to you and you quickly push a hand inside, looking for one thing only. A young college student needs to protect itself when walking home from late classes, the butterfly knife you wished you’d never have to use finds your fingertips and, when you feel the cold metal, you pull it out. 

“Ah-a. Don’t make me mad so quickly, doll.”, the man in your mirror sings, nickname rolling out of his tongue. You think you’re going to throw up, the ball in your throat keeps you from speaking but you don’t let his words scare you. In a swift motion, you open the object and let the blade stand straight towards your mirror. You try, you try your best to seem less afraid, but you’re sure you look foolish to him. And it sure does. A sigh tumbles from the man’s lips, a hand running in his dark brown locks. Thoughts clash and collide in your dizzy, clouded brain but still. He looks...normal almost, if it isn’t for the twisted grin on his lips, the lack of light in his dark eyes.  

“Your little knife won’t hurt me.”, he informs you, a small pout on his lips. He stays there, still patiently waiting for you to say something. Though he likes peoples’ reactions, he likes it even better when he hears about their darkest desires, the things that pushed them over the edge, things they graved to the point of summoning him, an entity many deem as fake, a legend. A hand on your floor, you support yourself with it, fearing your body giving out even if you’re already down. Mouth dry, you swallow harshly before finding your tongue again. “What if I break the mirror.” 

It’s a threat but oh, it sounds so sweet to the young man. You’re a courageous one, and fierce at that, Jaehyun can already tell and he loves it. Truly, he can not wait ; to break you down little by little, see that same fierceness in your pupils slowly disappear for obedience. There’s a small laugh tumbling from his lips again, cheek rubbing against his knee. “Ouh, she speaks.” Leaning a bit closer to the mirror, the man hums a little, eyes on the sharp blade. “Break it, it won’t do anything to me. Except make me mad.” 

For some reason, you believe him. Maybe it’s the daring look he gives you, silently wondering if you’ll have the guts to come closer to him. Clearly, you don’t, staying as far as your bed allows you. Your heart’s still beating too fast against your ribcage, breathing unevenly and you try to focus on your rhythm instead of the man right in front of you. “Come on. Deep breathes, kid.”

There’s something that clicks in your brain at this very moment, your throat seems to unravel and words flow out of your lips, avoiding what a side of your brain still thinks is an illusion. “I- We thought this was a legend, we thought it was fake.”, voice small, you fumble around, hands on your sheet before you find your phone. 

“‘it’ and ‘this” has a name.”, the man sternly says, eyes following your mouvements. As said, he saw it all before, the startled look in your eyes when your device went dead in your hand was one he enjoyed a bit too much. “It won’t work.”, he notes in a hum. 

“Y-Yoonoh ?”, you hate how it’s a question tumbling from your lips, half hoping one of your friend’s going to erupt out of your closet with a camera. There’s a disappointed sound from him, thumb running on his pink bottom lip, locks falling in front of his eyes. “Haven’t used that name in years. Please, darling. Call me Jaehyun.” 

Jaehyun, the sound rings in your ears. Eyes wide, you clench your dead phone around your fingers. “You’re real.” 

“As much as you are.”, he’s amused to say the least, lips stretching at a corner. There, he decided to get up, taking advantage of your tall mirror. It’s weird, how he isn’t wearing anything old, dirty, anything you’d think an entity would wear. A black blouse loose on his shoulders, he rolls the fabric to his elbows, what you think are black costume pants on his legs, his shoes you cannot see with the dark fog dancing around him. 

“You look...Normal.”, you dumbly let out, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. With other clothes, he’d easily pass as another boy in your campus. Then, he chuckles, you’re cute. It resonates in your small room, a deep dimple craved on each cheek. He seems pleased, standing right in front of your body. Hands in his pocket, he leans a bit forward. 

“Oh, doll. What were you expecting ? A big, bloody man ? Old and creepy ?” You nod at that, you surely were not expecting such a young looking man, you weren’t expecting him. “You surely didn’t summon anyone else, then. Does that mean I’m your first ? Ah- cute.” 

You don’t really know what comes to you, speaking almost freely to this entity and yet, you’re still afraid. There’s no doubt, the dip in your stomach and the sweat on your palms. “I-...I don’t believe in these kinds of things.”, you tell him without a second thought, without understanding how dumb this might sound. 

“Oh, really ? And do you, now ?”, Jaehyun decides he likes being at eye level better, kneeling, resting on his heels, he props his chin inside his palm again. Deep, dark eyes, it’s what strikes you the most. They curl lightly inside, outer corners stretched with what you think is a dark eyeshadow. He grins again, though his eyes never gain any light.  Your brain surrounders, finally coming around the fact that this, might be real. You stay silent, bringing your knees to your chest again. 

“Oh, she does.”, voice stained, gravy, he whispers out after some seconds of silence. “She believes.”, Jaehyun points out before you do with a breathless chuckle. There’s something twisted about him, you only needed seconds to understand how he fed of your initial fear, how he craved the trembling lips, watery eyes and shaky hands. Now, it seems he wants to play. 

“Now, you know what comes with summoning me, hm ?”, you nod at that, slowly coming to the realisation that you, have two wishes. Two possibilities. You could make your life so, so much better, right ? But a side of your brain still dismisses all of this as fake, you doubt Jaehyun’s powers for a moment. “Two wishes.”, you tell him and he nods, pleased. 

Pearly white teeth glow at his carnal smile, pupils slowly growing until his irises almost disappear. “A deal, unbreakable. You, will be sealed to me. Me, to you. Forever in the nearest mirror until the contract ends, I will follow as your reflection. Two wishes I shall grant you. One you shall grant me. “No” we both cannot use.”, he hums. Dreaded, realization falls onto your shoulders, the next sentence makes it too real. “Now, doll. Tell me. Tell me your deepest, darkest desires.”, he whispers, leaning closer to the barrier the mirror creates. 

The groan he lets out almost startles you, stained and deep, it’s almost a moan. “I’ve been waiting for so long.” Head thrown back, locks of his hair fall backwards as he reveals his pale neck. You gulp down, you never thought about it, only summoned him in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I didn’t...I didn’t think about that.”, you whisper out, slightly frightened at what he might be able to do. Jaehyun’s twisted smile never leaves his face, head tilted to the side. 

“Come on, kid. I’m sure you can find something.”, he starts. His right thumb pressed on his fingers, one by one. Cracking his knuckles, the sound’s bone chilling for your ears. “You know, you can wish for anything in the world.” Anything ? That’s the issue, you can’t think of anything right now. Unable to look at the entity in front of you, your eyes travel to the side, fixated on the small paint stain on your floor. What do you want ? You can barely think in such a situation, not when his eyes are fixated on you, intense, dark, awaiting. It’s the pressure that makes you speak again, your brain lashes onto the first thought that comes across your mind. 

“Popularity.”, you finally blur out, something the main character of a movie would’ve said. What a fool. Popularity, you don’t even need it, you just think it would be new to have people finally looking at you, knowing who you are.

“Popularity ?”, Jaehyun says, eyebrows raised. He seems slightly taken back, amused still. “I’ve had much, much more interesting wishes.”, he says, dark eyes looking down at you. You hate it, the judgement he shows, you know you could’ve wished for anything else. He does not elaborate on that - yet. Rather, he nods. Palms against each other, his last and fourth fingers are laced together, both thumbs, pointer and middle fingers pointed to the ceiling. There’s a dark glow right behind him, the black fog rather around the entity and, before you can change your wish, his eyes plant right in yours. They glow with something different, his voice resonates in your room, it comes out of all the mirrors you own. 

“Then, Y/N. So be it !” 

That night, you don’t sleep at all. Or at least, you don’t think you do, even when trying your hardest. If Jaehyun doesn’t appear in your mirror again, if he seems to disappear after your wish in an attempt to let you rest, you’re hyper aware of the fact that he’s here anyways. Jaehyun’s presence lingers, the effect he has in your dorm is undeniable, you can not push it away. Air dry, atmosphere tense, he’s everywhere and anywhere. “Forever in the nearest mirror until the contract ends.”, that’s exactly what he said. If he’s watching you sleep ? Is he, himself, sleeping ? Does he even need to ? Questions collide, none of them find an answer and rather, create new ones in their wake. 

Fatigue crashes on your body at once when you finally get yourself to blow the candle out and turn the lights of your bedroom off, so does the anxiety. Finally realising what you’ve just done, what you just got yourself into. It barely feels real, minutes go by on the clock and, when you’re not glaring at the numbers casted on your ceiling, you’re fearfully looking at your mirror. For the first time since you moved here, you hate this mirror. From the placement right in front of your bed to the size, you wonder why your campus thought this was a good idea. 

At some point, you do have to rest with your head right under your covers, finding a small bit of comfort with the duvet around your body. Maybe you dove back and forth into Morpheus’ arms but, your body shakes itself awake every time, almost giving you a mini heart attack. Soon enough, the lack of light gets replaced with the pale sunlight of the early morning, allowing you to catch a few minutes of sleep or so. Even if it varies with age, scientists say a human is able to live without sleep for around eleven days. You wonder if your body is able to go with a day of sleep. Thinking about it now, sleep deprivation comes with illusions and, you swear you sa-. 

“Y/N ?”, Jaemin’s voice rings right next to you, forcefully pulling you out of your too loud and invasive of thoughts. Eyes unfocused on your meal, your attention turns towards your friend in a second. From the silence in your group and the slight smile dancing on Jaemin’s lips, you guess he has been calling for you for a few seconds now. “Oh, sorry. Yeah ?”, you mumble out, placing the wooden chopsticks in your half full box, one you barely touched. 

“Dude, not to be rude but you look awful. You good ?”, Jeno, right in front of you, interjects before anyone else can speak. The young man looks genuinely concerned, eyebrows furrowed. You can’t help but notice, his eye bags don’t look too bad for a college student. They’re also, nowhere as bad as yours. 

“Yeah. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”, sighing a little, you let your cheek rest against your fist. You could fall asleep right then and there, on this very bench. The sun isn’t too harsh on your skin, no mirrors and, most importantly, you’re surrounded by your friends. Taking an entire picnic table in the middle of your campus, chinese food was bought but, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat more than a few bites, head heavy. 

There’s a laugh from Donghyuck, who just finished his food in one go. “Is it because of that dumb legend ?” 

“Dumb legend”, something doesn’t feel right when your friend lets the words out so, so carelessly. You can’t deny the shiver that runs down your spine at that moment, though you don’t see any mirrors anywhere close. Another uncomfortable silence takes place in the middle of the table, before Jisung speaks, finally. “I honestly felt weird yesterday night.”, he mumbles out, letting the tip of his chopsticks hit the bottom of his box a few times, like he’s embarrassed to admit it. It doesn’t shock you that he did, that the one who attempted to summon Jaehyun felt his lingering presence, the aftermath of not properly executing a ritual. What take you back, are Chenle and Jaemin’s next words. 

“Same. I almost tried that shit myself.”, Chenle says, half joking. In your half asleep state, your eyes widen for a second. Straightening your back, Jaemin beats you at the fast talker. “Dude, same ? I just wanted to try and see what would happen, you know ?”, he says. Your hand wraps around his arm, catching his attention. A little “You too ?” falls from his lips and you can only nod, looking over at Chenle. 

So they felt it too. The sudden feeling of not being alone, not being the crazy one. “I thought I was making things up.”, you gasp. You have to say, in another situation, Donghyuck’s face would’ve been funny. He looks so, so disappointed when you start listing the weird coincidence you and your two friends experienced the night prior. From the change in temperature and the feeling of being watched, Renjun and Jeno watch and listen, horrified. “But obviously, I didn’t try it.”, Jaemin adds, and you almost feel like disappearing. “Yeah, yeah...Same. Just didn’t sleep well.”, you mimic, and it seems to convince your friends. 

So they felt it too and, you were apparently the only one to follow your feeling, the only one that compulsively tried it out. You hate it, maybe you should’ve texted one of them, called them or even went to one of your friend’s dorms to sleep and you wouldn’t have been in such a situation. What a dumb move, what the slight confidence and curiosity had you summon, you almost let your forehead rest against the old wood. You almost do, if it isn’t for all your friends simultaneously turning their head to the side. 

Silence falls yet again in your group as you all look, slightly confused at the young man standing right next to you. Bright red hair, eyebrow slit, bold fashion style, everyone in this campus knows him as Lee Taeyong. See, if schools have their famous clique, the Heather and whatever is the masculine equivalent, you thought it all stopped once in university. You thought wrong. On your first visit, you quickly understood who exactly were the famous and unaccessible guys. Taeyong, was one of them. From his intimidating looks, ever changing hair color, sharp features and deep voice, he had everyone’s attention. Needless to say, you never saw him from so, so close. 

“Hey...Looking for something ?”, ah Donghyuck. Always the bold, the lifesaver. Sipping on his bubble tea, he looks straight at the oldest who barely gives him any attention. 

“Yes, actually.”, the red haired answers, gaining a few confused looks from your group. Looking at Jaemin for a second, you silently wonder if any of your friends know the Lee Taeyong enough for him to let himself be seen in your company. It seems he doesn’t understand either, quickly raising his shoulders. Catching your straw between your lips, you slowly sip onto the last drop of your juice, curious. 

“Y/N ?”, the dance student asks, looking straight into your eyes. It’s strange, how his eyes only manage to make you shift a little on your seat. You have to say, you did not know he knew your name, even was aware of your existence. Sure, him and Johnny were friends but, you doubt your friend told him about you. Still sucking on the last drops, you nod slowly. “I’m hosting a party this Sunday, are you coming ?” 

You choke on the liquid. Uh ? What’s going on ? You think it’s the lack of sleep that makes you hear things, but he doesn’t seem to mind and continues. “To celebrate the end of exam season. You’re Johnny’s friend, right ? He’ll send you the address.” 

And, just like that, the oldest smiles down at you and leaves. He leaves and lets your friends glare at you for answers, answers you do not have. 

Or maybe, you do. Wishing for popularity, you almost forgot about it. Was that how it began, people you barely know inviting you and not your friends to parties ? “What the fuck just happened ?”, asks Renjun, almost turning around to glare at Taeyong who sits with his friends, giving you a quick look. 

“I have no idea.” 

On any other normal, ordinary day, you would’ve opened your door without a second thought, mechanically almost. Throwing your bag at the foot of your bed before letting your body fall right in the middle of the mattress after a long, long day. But, your life is apparently far, far from ordinary since last night. Practically stuck in front of your dorm’s door, your fist unconsciously clenches the leather strap of your backpack. Knuckles turning white, it’s almost like you’re gripping the last bits of your sanity. Once you enter the four walls of what once was your safe space, you can only guess what is going to wait for you. 

Anyways, you cannot sleep right in front of your door, you can’t work on the dirty floor of your hallway, right ? It takes another rush of courage for you to push the handle down and finally allow yourself to enter your dorm. Even if you were ready for anything to happen, the sound of his voice once you close your door makes you jump back against the wood. “Ah, doll. Finally.”, it’s sultry, deep, it follows the look on his eyes when you carefully step towards your bed, second guessing his next actions. 

How are you supposed to act when you have an entity living in your mirror ? You wish Google could answer this question, you really do. Quickly glaring at the man in front of you, you’re a lot less scared now that the sun freely enters your bedroom, enough for you to notice a few more details that you might have missed the night prior. Victorian clothes, the tip of his fingers a dark grey as they dance on his jawline, Jaehyun still has the same cocky smile on his rosy lips. 

“Had a taste of popularity yet ?”, he asks, though he already knows the answer very well. Non-verbal, you keep an eye on your mirror while letting your bag fall on the floor, awkwardly sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“Uh, yeah.”, you let out, fingernails slightly gazing over the skin of your arm. You had a feeling it was him or rather, the wish you had blurred out hours before. It had to be, right ? Sure, Johnny knows Taeyong but you doubt he invites all his friend’s friends. Even, you and Johnny weren’t close enough and barely hung out, keeping your friendship almost strictly virtually. Not to point out the fact that the young man only invited you and did not even have the courtesy to invite the rest of your group. 

Finally, you decide to take your shoes off, scooting back to the middle of your bed, wood slightly cracking under your mouvements. Here, you believe you can have your eyes on the entity at any moment, just in case. What a strange situation, you don’t even know if you can work properly in such conditions, let alone take a shower and sleep peacefully. 

“Darling, you don’t look too happy with your wish.”, the young man notes, slight amusement dancing in his voice. Apparently, Jaehyun has a habit of squatting to sit down; elbow on his knee, head in his palm, he quickly raises his eyebrows at you. Isn’t it weird ? How he is still here, asking questions like an old - weird - friend shaking up on a friend. Maybe, your view on entities might be flawed, oriented by pop culture but, you sure weren’t expecting anything like this. 

“I’m tired.”, you simply say, clearly not prepared to have a casual conversation with the entity you summoned. Picking at a loose thread on your jeans, a sigh leaves your lips the moment you grab onto your phone and notice how, even now, it won’t turn on, nice. You don’t dare point it out, though. 

“Oh, kid. I can tell.”, your eyes quickly look up at his words, half in misbelief. Clearly, he doesn’t care for the daggers your eyes are throwing at him, tinted fingers twirling the dense fog around him. “You look close to death. And believe me, I saw my fair share of people on the bridge between our world and everything beyond.”

Your death glare quickly turns to a surprised, taken back one, clearly offended. Apparently, the young man finds amusement in this again, a quiet chuckle tumbling from his lips. How could he laugh, probably knowing he’s the reason you barely slept last night. Fighting with the entity stuck in your mirror, yet another thing you never even thought you’d experience. 

“You’re the reason why I look like this ! I-I barely slept tonight.”, your voice audibly quiets down the moment you understand the tone you’re using on a creature you can’t begin to understand, one that has powers beyond your comprehension. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind. Rather, his smile twists again, he likes them feisty. 

“I know.”, he simply says, batting his eyelashes, they’re long, dark. “But you, doll. Do you realise I can not do anything to you ?”, he asks and, you have to look to the side for a moment, Jaehyun continues. “I’m stuck in this mirror, I can not reach you.” 

Jaehyun can be lying. He probably is. After all, you aren’t aware of the totality of his abilities, he’s born from a dark ritual, meant to grant any desire, as twisted as they may be. Then again, why would he be lying ? If he could reach you, you think he could’ve tried something the night before. “You can’t ?”, biting down on your lower lip, you ask a bit quietly, raising your shoulders instinctively. 

“Actually, I can lean out of any mirror and reach anything at arm length but, it takes a lot of energy out of me.”, Jaehyun says, running a hand in his locks and, you have to say, the sheer thought of seeing him reach out of your mirror has your blood leaving your face, surely a sight you don’t want to witness. You don’t even ask for a demonstration, you’d rather keep the little sanity you still have now, without the image of an entity leaning out to your world. Does that mean he can reach out and grab the bag you left on the floor ? You almost lean down and tug it towards you and away from your mirror but, decide against it. At the very least, you now know that you can sleep without him walking out of your mirror. 

“Do you...Do you need to sleep ? You said it took energy.” What comes to you again ? Asking questions so freely, you guess having answers will help you be less scared. Bringing your knees to your shoulders, your body relaxes a bit when you notice the entity looking at you, seemingly taken back by a human asking him questions. Little do you know, Jaehyun doesn’t remember the last time someone wanted to know more about himself, he might as well.

“I do not need to sleep, I feed off people summoning me.”, he simply explained, getting up. You wonder for a second if he isn’t bored in your mirror, it seems like he does not have anything to do in there, you might even pity him for a second. “As long as people summon me, I exist. Once people forget about me, I’ll be gone.”, Jaehyun utters, slowly walking from one end of your mirror to another. 

“Isn’t it...Boring in there ?”, you wonder out loud, head tilted to the side. If you saw an entity being vulnerable, for the shortest of seconds, Jaehyun regains his attitude pretty quickly. There’s a laugh, a loud one you fear someone else will hear as he readjusts his rings on his fingers, one by one, before facing you again. 

“Oh, no. See, usually, people know what they’re going to wish for, their desires are dark, thrilling. Darling, yours are just plain and uninteresting.”, the entity notes, quietly. The gasp you let out at this is almost comical, though the young man doesn’t even let a reaction out. Eyebrows furrow, you almost have the reflex to throw something at your mirror. 

“I wasn’t- I didn’t even think it would work !”, you blur out a bit too loudly, letting your knees fall on your mattress. “I don’t have any dark, twisted desires, it’s not my fault !”, quickly losing yourself in excuses and defenses, you don’t notice Jaehyun’s smile growing wider at your attempts, passing back and forth in your mirror. “Even ! What did the others wish for ?”, you ask, clearly annoyed by the one way argument you just had. 

The question seems to pick the entity’s interest, you finally notice the habit he has of facing you when something interests him and, on the contrary, mindlessly passing until you’re done speaking when he isn’t interested at all. “Ah, what did the others wish for ? Doll, I do not think you’re ready to hear humanity’s most twisted impulses.” 

Curiosity and pride poked, you quickly blur back, crossing your legs. “I summoned you. I think I can hear it.” Eyes narrow, the young man takes a few seconds to judge, “Don’t you have some class work to do ? Friends to see ? I do not know, church to attend ?” You almost laugh at that, almost forget what time he probably comes from to speak in such a way. “No, I don’t.” It’s probably the slight determination in your voice mixed with the urge to tell his stories that does it for Jaehyun. Though he sighs, it’s almost a content one he has while remembering the endless acounters he had. “What do you think people summon me for ?”, he suddenly asks, starting again with his infinite passing. 

“Money, power.”, you start, and he only nods without looking at you. Suddenly, Jaehyun disappears and you almost back against the head of your bed, if it isn’t for his voice coming from the smaller mirror in your dressing table. God, how you feared it was haunted when you first bought it, even if it was straight out of ikea. You guess that now, it is. “Power.” Jaehyun eventually goes to the mirror in your bathroom, seemingly effortlessly, “Money.” You hear his voice resonate, even in this room full of furniture. Finally, he comes back again to your main mirror, the one you summoned him on. “Love.”,  a lion in his cage. 

Only then, do you notice your name still written in red lipstick, one you should probably clean off if you weren’t so scared of coming close to him. 

“Humans are greedy, so greedy to have what isn’t meant to be theirs. They’d go to great length for a twisted illusion, a flawed reality their selfish heart craves.”, he speaks through gritted teeth, it sends a shiver down your spine, makes the atmosphere colder. “I’ve had a prince, once. The second born, far far from the throne.”, Jaehyun starts, a finger tapping on his chin. “Do you know what he wished for, once he had the guts to summon me ?”, the entity suddenly asks, abruptly turning towards you. Taken back, all you can do is shake your head from left to right, hands gripping the fabric of your jeans. He told you, that people summoning him gave him more energy. You wonder if staying in the presence of the one calling him gives him more too, the effects he has on your small dorm are even more noticeable now than last night. 

“For his entire family’s death.”, Jaehyun related. 

He says this simply, so simply. If he notices the slight shift in your breathing, he doesn’t point it out and continues. 

“Such a naïve, naïve boy.”, Jaehyun hums, a slight pout on his lips. “He makes me think of you. He didn’t think it would work. But, unlike you, when he saw me, he knew what he wanted.” There’s a slight pause, where Jaehyun hums, like he’s remembering some details. “‘Tell me your deepest, darkest desires’, I said. ‘Kill them all’, the fool immediately said.” You have to say, you’re a bit captivated by how he reenacts the scene, hands flying in gestures. 

“Did you ?”, you ask almost dumbly, eyes wide. It’s like your brain still hasn’t processed everything the entity in front of you can do. It’s only when the entity gives you an empty look that you let a small, “Oh” tumblr from your lips. Obviously, he did. It’s the morbid curiosity, the one that almost has you asking how he did it but, you push it away. You convince yourself that you don’t want to know nor hear it and thankfully, Jaehyun continues before you can open your mouth. “Poor thing, he wasn’t on the throne for long.”, the man notes. For the first time, something dances in his eyes. Something he’s hiding from you has his lips parting in a quiet chuckle, like he’s remembering an old joke. 

He’s capable of murder. That, you know now. A dip in your stomach, it’s probably the way he talks about it so nonchalantly that frightens you the most. You don’t doubt, the entity probably saw and experienced a lot. Now, can you blame him ? He’s tied to a ritual, probably forced to grant wishes. You wonder, what would happen if he doesn’t act on them. Is he at fault for all the things he did ? You almost question your own morals. 

“What do people ask for the most ?”, you wonder out loud. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind the questions and, the lack of homework, phone and intimacy has you stuck with him. Might as well. The entity seems to pounder for a bit, you think you might go crazy only with the way he keeps walking back and forth in your small mirror. 

“Love.”, he finally tells you, never stopping his steps. “But it’s never true love, it’s never as perfect as they pictured it.”

So, he’s capable of forcing feelings on someone ? For the nth time, you wonder exactly what he’s capable of, where his powers stop. And here you were, asking for popularity. Sure, it could help in the long run but, you could’ve asked for so much better. But, you still have a second wish, right ? It’s there, suddenly, that you remember why you and your friends tried to summon him in the first place. Eyes wide, you move a bit closer to the mirror, though keeping some distance. 

“Is it true ? Eric ?”, you ask suddenly. It’s all because your friend talked about him, all because of a dumb rumor he heard.

“Eric ?”, Jaehyun needs a few seconds to place the name again, furrowed eyebrows relaxing after a moment. The name seems to bring some discomfort into his features and, though it disappeared after a moment, you still notice it. Silent for a moment, you press on anyways. “That he summoned you, it’s true, isn’t it ?”

Oh, how you probably shouldn’t have asked. If Jaehyun is able to control his emotions, his features turning cold, unreadable, the effect he has on your dorm can not go unnoticed. Air cold, dense, you don’t take long to understand his experience with Eric probably was not the greatest. But again, isn’t Jaehyun a powerful entity ? Why would his reaction be so radical to such a normal human ? 

“He did.”, the young man finally says, cold, abrupt. 

Is he the reason why Eric went at the top of his class ? It probably is but, what you’re most curious about is why exactly, the old college student turned so...weird. Sure, you don’t doubt the experience of successfully summoning a demon might...change someone but, it seems Jaehyun didn’t have him in his heart either. Did something happen between them ? Did Eric not grant Jaehyun’s final wish ? Were the rumors true ? Your brain’s deciding between asking and dropping the subject and, as you’re about to open your mouth again, the entity beats you at it. 

“Shouldn’t you go take a shower ? Rest early tonight.” and, just like that, he disappears from your mirror. 

People have told you many times. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.” 

You should not be here, at all. You’re supposed to have a major class right at this moment. But, a teacher being sick and a lack of substitute teachers appeared like a sign of the universe to you. See, Jaehyun’s abrupt disappearance left you with more questions, questions that only duplicated the moment you finally took a well deserved shower - after covering your mirror with a towel, just in case.

What happened with Eric ? Probably the last thought before sleep knocked you out in mere minutes. And really, the universe wouldn’t have made it so easy to find him if they didn’t want you to search, right ? A few texts here and there, Johnny yet again managed to help you more than he can imagine. Eric’s address was sent to you fifteen minutes after your class was officially cancelled and, you took the chance. Faking having some questions about both his major and job, Johnny didn’t ask any more questions. 

And here you were. Right in front of Eric’s building.

The richer, nicer era, one you never visited before. After all, you don’t know anyone living there. Pretty, tall and new buildings, small parks, high end stores. One can only dream of living in such a nice era a year after leaving university. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.”, you think again. In front of the old university student’s building, glass doors pushed open to reveal a pristin, clear and minimalist lobby. “But satisfaction brought it back.”, you tell yourself. 

What are you doing here ? You don’t really know. All you can really understand and form in your fogged up brain is that Eric, him, might be the only one able to understand you at this very moment. Maybe he has answers to the questions you have and are too afraid to ask. What could go wrong ? A lot, actually. But you -once again - decide to act on impulse rather than think about it. It’s a slight confidence you have that goes to your head, fogs any other rational thought. 

The lobby’s empty, calm. An abstract beige and white painting hung at your right, you immediately notice the ceiling high mirror on your left. Your reflection, it’s almost weird to see it. It has you doubting, doubting that this, is even your image here. But, you push the thought aside quickly, walking towards the little letter boxes. Kim Eric, Kim Eric. You don’t take too long to find his name tag, right next to his apartment number. Right at the top of the building, you can’t even begin to imagine the price he must’ve payed. 

Nonetheless, you make your way towards the single elevator. There, another mirror. You might think Eric was just a weird kid, that Jaehyun never had anything to do with this. After all, wouldn’t he want to live somewhere without mirrors if the rumors were true ?

Facing the metal doors, you turn away from the mirror, head moving to the calm tune of the metal box. Unconsciously avoiding the glass yourself, you’re standing closer to the opening than usual. 

What you do not see, is your reflection not following your movement, glaring into your skull. 

That weird feeling of being watched again, isn’t it ? It creeps up your spine and you try your best at pushing it aside, forcing your brain to focus on the quiet melody. A small part of your brain fears, if you turn around right now, would Jaehyun be facing you ? He’s everywhere, you’re aware of that and yet, decide to cover this truth. 

Thankfully, the elevator doesn’t stop until the very last floor, letting you escape the small cubicle before you can feel too uncomfortable, before the courage wears off and has you overthinking. And, only then do you really realise what you are doing. Visiting someone you don’t know at all, only heard rumors about only because the two of you happened to summon the same entity.

Should you really be doing this ? It seems Jaehyun doesn’t have Eric in his heart, wouldn’t he be mad ? But, he said he couldn’t do anything to you, you just have to do it, for closure. Do it, for closure-. Before your brain can stop you, you take the few steps towards Eric’s door, 165 written in golden letters on the pale wooden door. Clean carpet, big windows letting you have a breathtaking view on the area, you wonder for a second time how much money he must make to afford this place. Bringing your fist up to the door, you knock a first time. 

Silence. A kind of deception slowly takes over your body but, you guess you should’ve thought about it, maybe he’s working or, just out, like a regular citizen. 

Pure silence falls and you now wonder if you did not misread the signs, if you really should be here. Head hanging low, you’re almost about to mentally beat yourself up before your eyes fall on it. Covered by a thing, white sheet, something’s placed right against the wall. Neatly packed, you for a second think it’s a set of paintings. But, it’s the smallest of seconds, you don’t need more to understand right then. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.”, you think for the nth time, but you act on it, yet again. Eric isn’t here anyways, no one would notice. Slightly leaning down, you take the sheet between your fingers and lift it up. Paintings, thin pieces of wood, it could’ve been anything but hélas, covered under the fabric is what you feared most. Different mirrors, different sizes, obviously from different rooms. There’s a sigh that tumbles from your lips, are you going to end just like this ? Scared of mirrors, avoiding them ? It’s just when you get back up that you think your heart might jump out of your body. 

“Excuse me ? What are you doing here ?”, deep, breathless voice comes from the stairs you didn’t even notice. Jumping away from the door, a hand lands on your beating heart, a soundless gasp at the border of your parted lips. Eric stands clueless.He’s an average sized man, clearly out of shape, slender eyes with a prominent european nose. He does not know you but you, on the other hand, saw pictures of him. If he looked weird a few years ago, it might be worse now. If you look out of place with your regular, broke college student clothes, he does even more. Dirty, washed out and oversized t-shirt, long, brown greasy hair, he grips the iron next to him. He took the stairs, all the way to his apartment to avoid the mirror, it strikes you there. Slight anxiety takes over you, you didn’t expect him to be like this, you didn’t expect to feel so...off. 

“I-uh. Eric ?”, you ask, already knowing the answer. Slightly taken back, you let the way to his door free for him to walk, not knowing how to act towards him. He, still seems distant, rightfully so. Wavy, dry hair brushed out, his runs a hand in it before fishing for his keys. 

“Are you selling something ? I’m not interest-.”, he mumbles. You notice the bags under his eyes, dried lips. He almost looks sick, he acts like an old person in a young body. 

“Oh, no ! My name’s Y/N. We’re from the same university.”, you tell him. He doesn’t look so convinced, slowly walking towards his door. Even when he puts his key in, he still has an eye on you, like he fears being robbed right there. 

“Uh ? And what do you want ?”, the man groans out. He has you taking a step back again. How are you supposed to tell him exactly ? Shit, you didn’t think about that, at all. A “Hey, we summoned the same entity !” surely won’t do it. The lack of words from your side seems to annoy him quite quickly. Taking a step in his apartment, he immediately used the door to shelter himself, only letting his upper body be seen. He doesn’t look happy, at all. And yet, he has such a pretty apartment, right ? It’s only when he turns his light on that you see the state of the inside. All windows closed and blocked, clothes, empty boxes of instant noodles on the floor alongside a bunch of papers, it looks like a madman’s home. Even his home gives you weird vibes and suddenly, a part of you doesn’t want to be here. anymore.

Eric notices your wandering eyes and, it’s here he has enough, closing his door a little more. “Listen, Y/N. I don’t have your time right now, so-.” 

For a second time, you cut him off. “It’s about Jaehyun.”, you blur about without another thought.

His annoyed look turns frightened in seconds. The name seems to bring back a lot, things you don’t doubt he was trying to get away from. Glossy eyes wide, chapped lips parted, he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack, or like he just saw a ghost. Fuck, what did you just do ? He caughts a bit but, he isn’t as good as the entity when it comes to hiding his emotions. “I-I don’t want to talk about it. It’s just a dumb legend anyways.” Oh, he’s trying to deny, deflect. The moment he’s about to close the door, you act quickly and let your shoe block the door. 

“I did it too.”, you tell him, almost breathless. It almost feels good, to say it but, it lasts for mere milliseconds. Clearly, it doesn’t feel as good for the oldest. You think he might cry when the words process at this very moment, a sound tumbles from his lips. However, no words are said. His eyes fall upon the sheet covered glass at his shoes and, before you can understand, he manages to shut his door in your face. He sounded paranoiac, looked like a maniac. Is that what happens when dealing with Jaehyun, will you end up like this ? Surely, he was the reason why the old university student turned this way, that’s what the rumors say. 

“Leave !”, he shouts and, if anyone’s in the second apartment, you’re sure they can hear. 

“But, Eric, I just wan-.”, you try, desperate. 

Curiosity killed the cat.

“Right now !” 

Curiosity killed the cat. 

“You vazey, you’re an absolute idiot.” 

Unlike last night, you don’t think twice before opening the door to your dorm, almost slamming the iron knob right on your thin wall. Just like you thought, Jaehyun barks at you the moment the door’s closed, barely waiting for the lock to click. He knows, he knows you tried to get answers from Eric, there’s no denying it. 

“You were there.”, it’s a statement more than a question, one you throw at the same time you do your bag, sliding on the floor before it abruptly stops when it hits your mirror. If that’s even possible, the entity gets closer to the border between his world and your own, gritted teeth has him speaking lowly. “I told you, forever in the nearest mirror.” A dark promise, one you now understand the meaning of. He’s linked to you, whether you want ot admit it or not, it has your body covered in goosebumps. 

“You shouldn’t have gone there.”, he continues, sighing heavily through his nose. Clearly, he didn’t think you would visit the old college student, let alone try to question him and tell him about your experience. “He’s mad, he’s dangerous.”, the entity continues. And that’s what does it for you. Abruptly turning towards the mirror, it’s like you quickly forget about the power he holds. 

Anger bubbles up in your chest, it pushes words out of your mouth, “You’re the one who drove him mad !” 

If you fear the entity, you do not show it. Heart pounding, palms sweaty, you keep a straight face. You’re ready for anything and everything. He might scream, make your room even colder, use his powers but, you don’t expect his reaction. He laughs, he laughs almost maniacally. So close to the mirror, the entity shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning closer until you think he might come out. 

Jaehyun could’ve said many things at this moment, he could’ve said the truth. But, unbeknownst to you, his feelings take over. He’s a creature of anger, pitiness, even. 

“He knew the deal.”, he spits out. Voice going deeper, you fear it might turn inhuman. 

“And so, you decided to drive him mad ? He looks miserable.”, you bark back. You’re too far gone to stop yourself right now. The pounding of your heart rings in your ears, it clouds your brain and has you repeating the same sentence again and again but, you never voice it. Would he do the same to you ? 

“I could’ve done much, much worse, doll.” It’s a whisper, like a promise of things he might just do to you if you keep acting in such a way. The nickname doesn’t have anything sweet in it, it’s harsh, a slap in the face. Swallowing harshly, you keep your eyes on the entity, faking a lack of expression, a lack of fear. Clearly, he likes it, a small smirk tugging at his lips but nothing shines in his eyes. If you thought he was normal the night before, if you pitied him hours ago, it’s quite hard now that he looks even more twisted than Eric. 

“And what, exactly ?”, you dare to ask, keeping your voice firm. Jaehyun’s smile only turns wider, head leans to the side. A few locks of his hair fall in front of his piercing eyes, he judges your reactions. 

“Come closer.”, he starts, keeping his voice quiet. “And I’ll tell you.”, the entity gets right back at you, daring light in his eyes. You know, you know he can reach out at a certain point but you take a step closer anyways. Your heart starts pumping faster, threatening to burst out of your ribcage, it creates white noise, blurs your eyes, restricts your air ways.

“She’s a daring one.”, Jaehyun notes, twisted smirk. He’s close, so close. You’ve never been this close to him, ever. If he was out, you would’ve been able to feel the air he blows out on the bridge of your nose, if he wasn’t an entity, you’d be able to see the colorful particle in his eyes. His tongue rests on his pointy canine, lightly traveling to his lip.

“I saw it, the pity in your eyes.”, he starts, a sort of anger in his voice but, you do not flinch. Keeping your eyes on his, you blink slowly, trying to calm your cardiac rhythm, breaking slowly through your nose. “Do you think I’m all alone, here ?”, Jaehyun asks. But, he does not even need an answer. By the way your eyebrows furrow for a second, he understands you never thought about it. 

“Ah, stupid fucking kid.”, he growls lowly, you stay silent. “Do you remember the prince I told you about ?” This time, you simply nod, remember when the young looking man told you that he didn’t even stay on the throne for too long. Jaehyun laughs again, the sound lightly resonating in your room, coming out of the different mirrors you own. “He’s trapped with me, here. I’m not alone.”, Jaehyun explains and, the light that flashs in his eyes tells you that he isn’t lying. Yet, you question it. Mouth agape, eyebrows furrow, the attempt you made to calm your heart fails. “That can’t be.”

“You seem to underestimate my powers, doll.”, and finally, like he’s letting you breathe a bit more, he leans back. He giggles there, both his hands behind his head as he lets his torso fall backwards. You’re not even able to form a proper sentence in your mind and, when he senses the lack of words, the entity continues, unbothered by the reality of his actions. People wouldn’t willingly go in the mirror, if that was even possible, right ? 

“I know what you’re thinking. Ah- it’s so easy to read you, darling. Is it possible for a human to join me ?”, he voices your question without you having to. “You can but, only for a few minutes. If you don’t leave quickly enough, you’re trapped here.” It’s the realisation crashing over you that makes you take a step back. Finally, when your brain goes on high alert, when your body tenses and your senses heighten at the risk, you find your words again. “No one would willingly do that.”, you blur out, trying to find a loophole somewhere. Surely, he’s bluffing, trying to scare you, right ? 

“Doll, you seem to forget that I have a wish too.”, his words have you dizzy but, your body isn’t able to back away again, forced to stay close enough, too close. “It’s simple, really. I wish for a dance and, they have to. When the dance’s over, they rarely have time to run back to their little, real world.” The brunette chuckles again, deep, gravy, bone chilling. 

“You don’t believe me ?”, Jaehyun continues, faking being hurt. He leans forward again, captivating you with his deep eyes. “Do you want to see them all ?”, he asks, lips in a wide smile. He could very much do this to you too, would he ? You shake your head from left to right quickly, fear clear in your eyes, he traps people. God only knows how many. You think you might choke on a cry right then, you don’t think you’ve ever been so scared in your life. Trapped, he seems to do it without a second thought, without an ounce of regret. What did you get yourself into ? 

“Good. Good girl.”, he cooes. “Know your place.” 

For a second time, his face’s too close to you. Having you so close probably gives him more energy and, as the seconds pass, you think you might pass out on the floor. You even think he might lean out of the mirror, like he said he could but, before you can open your mouth again, say anything that could help your case, he beats you at it. “Didn’t they tell you to be careful ? Curiosity killed the cat.” and just like that, he disappears again, you fall into your knees.

In the middle of your first year in university, you found out you didn’t really like frat parties. But see, if they can give you a reason to avoid your dorm, you’ll take anything. Anything, really. 

Loud music blasted through the house, a crowd of people you barely know, you don’t even think you ever saw this place without the party, multicolor lights. You also think you already wore this dress for another one of their parties, earlier on your first year but, you didn’t really think twice about your clothes today. You’ve been here for an hour at best and, the only thing you did was drink a bunch of water, checking your phone every now and then. Unfortunately, none of your friends were able to make it and, a good part didn’t want to come as they weren’t even invited. 

Leaving you all alone in a party full of popular people you never ever spoke to before. You didn’t really blame them. But anyways, wasn’t that what you wanted, popularity ? This is part of it, right ? Fuck, how can you hate something you wished for ? How can you hate it so, so much. Maybe you should leave ? You don’t even like the music they’re playing or the drinks they’re mixing together. You even thought about paying for a hotel but, you know Jaehyun wouldn’t have any difficulty finding you again, he’s attached to you. 

Maybe you should take all your mirrors out, just like Eric did but again, you still have a wish. He still has one, you can’t see yourself leaving in fear for the rest of your life. Dodging every mirror, acting like a maniac. It’s when you’re in deep thought, leaning against the kitchen counter that Johnny decides to join you.

“Hey, Y/N ! You made it !”, the tallest has to speak loudly over the music, holding a red cup in his hand. His everlasting smile on his face, he managed to get a tired one out of you. “Yeah…”, you start, taking a sip of your drink, it surely didn’t help your dry throat. You’re not even having fun here, you look like you’re waiting for someone who’s never going to come. “I didn’t even know Taeyong knew me. I was a bit surprised when he invited me.”, you blur out, trying your best to make a conversation. 

“Actually, he told me he saw you a few times and thought you were cute.”, your friend says, a cheeky smile on his lips. The confession has heat burning your cheeks for a moment, lips parted. Taeyong ? The Lee Taeyong ? You think your friend’s pulling a prank on you but you know him enough, Johnny wouldn’t be the type to do that. 

“I-. Wait, really ?”, you ask, dumbfounded. It’s the effect of your wish, you know it but, you clearly weren’t prepared for that. Do people like you now...Because of this ? Without knowing you, without ever talking to you ? 

“Yeah, really ! You should go talk to him.”, you’ve known Johnny to be kind of the Cupid of his friend group and, he takes the role quite well. Pointing at a corner, you can distinguish one of their couches, occupied by Johnny’s friend group. Before you even know it, a gentle hand’s on your shoulder, helping you through the crowd, sweaty bodies dancing mindlessly, such a cliché. 

You can’t even find a way to escape. Finally, you’re right in front of the said group. Boys and girls, all sat on the couch, some on the others, you would want to sit on someone in such heat. Some girls are hanging out with them too, flashing you a nice smile as you awkwardly stand next to Johnny, like a lost puppy. 

“Look who I found !”, Johnny happily shouts, catching everyone’s attention. Then, you decide you hate it, too many eyes on you. A girl you don’t even know the name of sits straight and waves, “Y/N ! It’s nice to see you, it’s been so long !” Do you know her ? Her face’s vaguely familiar but at best, you might have seen her during a first year party. You hate it, entirely. All you can do is nod slowly as you feel your heart pics up, your palms grow sweaty. Taeyong’s in the middle, legs spread on the couch, he has one of his friends moving from his seat to give you some space. “Here, sit !”, he invites with a warm smile. 

What can you do ? You obey, sitting down next to the young man. You need to sit down anyways, feeling the heat crash over your body, it makes your head light, your mouth dry. You sit in fear you’ll pass out. You can almost feel the energy being drained out of you. Maybe popularity isn’t for you. The music seems to fade away, just as your heart pumps in your ears again. It rings, something familiar now. Has the room always been this size ?

“Y/N ? What game do you prefer ?”, from the tone Johnny has, it’s probably the second time he’s asking you this and, before you can even find another solution or, the strength to socialise, you get up. He flashes you a look, Taeyong a curious one you can’t really see as he’s behind you. 

“Can you please hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom.”, you blur out. 

“Oh, sure !”, always the nice one. Poor Johnny, you almost shove your glass in his hand, slashing some water on his fingers as he covers the opening. “First door on your right when you take these stairs.”, he says. 

If you could, you would’ve ran to the bathroom. Your steps are stopped when you cut right through the dancing crowd, using your elbows to make your way. It’s crazy, how big their living room is and still, you manage to feel strapped, like the walls keep moving away from you, making it impossible to reach the stairs, the escape. You think someone drops a bit of their drink on your dress but you don’t really care at the moment, walking with quick steps when finally, you’re out of the circle. 

Running up the stairs, your hand lands on the wet patch the unknown drink left at your side, nice.You don’t know what it is, it sticks to your fingers, probably sugary. Finally, the music seems to fade naturally when you reach the first floor, pushing the door of the bathroom without a second thought. As said, you’ve been to parties before, you know bathroom can be...unlocked and busy. Thankfully, no one’s there and you’re able to lock yourself in the bathroom, completely sheltering yourself. 

Turning the light on, you quickly find the sink, hands gripping the border before you lean forward a bit, opening the faucet. 

“Popularity isn’t for me.”, you tell yourself, eyes set on your reflection. Forehead sweaty, your makeup isn’t as good as it was when you left your dorm. Even, is it your reflection ? It seems you can’t even find a safe place anymore. You can’t help the tears that gather in your eyes, small transparent pearls threatening to fall at any moment, you can’t even trust your own reflection. Something grips at your throat, makes it hard to breathe and all you can do is let your head fall down, trying to calm yourself by running your hands under the cold water. 

You can’t even go back to your dorm, not wanting to see Jaehyun. It’s a mixture of fear and something else you can’t really identify, something that makes you regret acting in such a way. It’s crazy, how you almost thought things were going well for an actual entity you summoned. You guess you let things go to your head, forgetting the supernatural aspect of it all. You don’t think it has ever been so hard to see a future for yourself, so hard to find a solution to a problem, you feel stuck. 

Between the four walls of a foreign bathroom, you finally let a sob tumble from your lips. You unsuccessfully try and muffle it against your wet palm but, it all makes it too hard to breathe. Harshly turning the faucet off, you desperately try to find a rhythm. 

“Hey, kid.” 

You almost jump out of your skin. Taking a step back from the sink, you don’t even look up. A voice you know too well by now but, this time is doesn’t sound as harsh. Did he really have to appear so suddenly ? He didn’t help your breathing and you make that known when you glare up at the entity. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”, Jaehyun says. There’s something soft in his voice, something you surely are not used to. The mirror is much smaller here, you can only see from his upper body and has you focused on his face. Again, he’s good at hiding his emotions, cold face contracting with the tone in his voice. 

“It’s okay.”, you finally breathe out, not wanting to fight or scream right at this moment. You don’t think you have the energy for, at least. 

“Popularity really isn’t for you.”, he laughs and for once, it’s meant for you to laugh too. There’s a tired sigh tumbling from your lips, far from a laugh. 

“What are you doing here ?”, you ask, though the answer is obvious. 

“I told you, forever in the nearest mirror.”, he repeats and unlike yesterday, it doesn’t sound like a threat, more like a silent promise that he’ll watch over you. “Come closer.” 

And you do, a lot less fearful. Separated by the sink, you stand at its edge. 

“Don’t freak out, doll.”, the entity warns and, before you can even ask him why, he leans out. He leans out of the mirror. Though you don’t freak out, like he asked you, it still takes you by surprise. Mouth agape, the way he effortlessly lets his upper body detach from the mirror is hypnotising. He almost looks human, if it isn’t for his glass skin. The light of the bathroom reflects on the highest point of his cheek, you’d have to look a few minutes to understand if his skin’s pale or if he’s slightly translucide. Faded beauty marks and light freckles, you’d almost be able to count them. 

“There, good.”, he coes softly when you blink slowly. Jaehyun looks so normal, like you’d be able to pick a fallen eyelash on his skin. From here, you can detail his glossy hands, the grey tint at the tip of his fingers and before you can search for any trace of veins on his arms, he cups your cheeks. 

Skin cold, his hands a light touch like he isn’t sure if he should be touching you. The change in heat has you flinching for a second before relaxing, welcoming the cold trail his thumbs let under your tired eyes. 

“Breathe with me, I don’t want to see you having a panic attack.”, he explains. And, you do. Soft breath falls at the bridge of your nose, drying the small drops of water the faucet left on your skin. Through his nose, out his mouth, the entity takes the time and waits for you to match his rhythm. 

Jaehyun, Yoonoh, the entity you summoned is helping you calm down in the middle of a party you hate, that’s the thought you have to push away before finally, feeling yourself getting back to normal. Your heart regains somewhat of a normal rhythm, it stops ringing in your ears and most importantly, nothing restraints your throat. Then, you look up at the entity, big brown eyes checking up on your features, only then do you notice the small dots of gold near his pupil. 

You back away. 

Taking a step back, you detach your eyes from his own, he looks more alive out of his mirror and you’re not sure you want him so close. Or maybe, it’s the fact you do want him a bit closer that scares you. After all, he managed to calm you down easily, he’d almost pass as a normal student.

“Thank you.”, you manage to let out after swallowing down. After a small nod, he lets his body get swallowed back into the mirror. It’s crazy, how his appearance changes the slightest bit, enough that he loses the human like je ne sais quoi that made him familiar, friendlier almost. 

“It’s alright, doll. I’ve had my fair share of people to calm down but usually, it’s during our first meeting.”, he jokes a bit, regaining his attitude when he’s sure you’re alright. 

There’s a silence, a moment when you let the music come to your eyes, the setting sinks in your brain again. Johnny and his friends are probably waiting for you, you don’t even know how long you’ve been there. On the other side, Jaehyun takes a look at the bathroom you locked yourself in, sighing a bit at the music loudly blasting, making the walls vibrate every now and then. You now know how quick Jaehyun is to speak and, for the first time, you catch him, speaking at the same time. 

“I should go home.”

“You should go home.” 

“Nice shirt.” 

“Holy fuck, Jaehyun. You need to stop doing that.”, jumping to the side, you almost drop the towel you were using to dry the wet ends of your hair. 

Minutes after Jaehyun left the bathroom, you did the same. The party wasn’t an interesting one to you and so, you faked being sick to Johnny and his friends. Needless to say, many were disappointed for a reason you couldn’t really understand. At least, Johnny insisted on driving you to your dorm and soon enough, you found your safe space again. 

Strangely, Jaehyun didn’t make his presence known when you entered the room, you were almost used to having him waiting with a sarcastic sentence at the tip of his tongue. Nevertheless, you hung a towel on the mirror of your bathroom and took a quick shower, slipping into freshly washed pyjamas so quickly you almost fell down. 

Apparently, the young man decided to appear right when you stepped out of your bathroom, almost knocking your knee against some furniture. Easing yourself on your bed, you let your body at the edge, right in front of your mirror.

“But you always look like a cute deer caught in headlights. That’s the saying, right ?”, he asks, sitting down in front of you. You nod a bit, a slight smile on your face. “Thank you again, for earlier.”, setting the towel aside, you let your legs dangle. You should probably try and sleep but, it seems Jaehyun isn’t thinking about leaving right now. The entity doesn’t answer, simply nodding, almost not wanting to address the gesture. “I thought you left.”, you tell him, being truthful for the first time. 

“I was just mad.”, Jaehyun almost says, he almost voices his own emotions but decides against it. 

“You shouldn’t have gone to his house.”, he says again. But, unlike yesterday, he doesn’t sound as mad, as angry. You sigh anyways, he sounds like a parent scowling you, but you guess he’d be too old for that. But somehow, you know he isn’t really wrong. Eric didn’t even speak to you, nothing good came of it. Rather than voicing your opinion, you let your eyes travel to the side, avoiding the man’s gaze. 

“He’s dangerous.”, he starts, playing with his rings again. If you were in his head, you’d be able to witness the dilemma he’s facing. However, Jaehyun picks rather quickly. “Do you remember what I told you ? What people wish for the most ?”, he asks. It’s funny, Jaehyun always sounds like he’s questioning you, making sure you listen to him. “Love.”, you easily answer, attention picked. 

“That was Eric’s second wish. But as I told you, it’s never true love, its a fake emotions, I can’t- I can not force such a powerful feeling onto someone. It always ends up badly. When Eric’s “dream girl” - like he called her - didn’t love him like he wanted her to, he got mad.” By now, you know Jaehyun’s behaviour quite well. When he didn’t show much emotion while telling you the story of this unknown prince, the entity looks uncomfortable enough when thinking about Eric. Eyebrows raised, there’s a shiver that runs down your spine. The young man didn’t even say it and yet, you already know where it is going. 

“He tried to kill her one night.”, he starts. For an entity who saw, experienced so much, you think it’s how fresh it all is that has him showing so much emotion. Someone capable of murder, that’s who you visited without a second thought. The behavior, it all started to make sense. Your mouth hangs open for a moment before you find your words again. “Is she- Is she alright ?”, you ask first. 

“She was, I do not know her whereabouts as of today.”, he continues, letting one of his rings roll between his fingers. “I couldn’t let him do it. I used my wish to teach him a lesson, showed him things that went straight through his thick skin. He managed to escape in time but he left me with his.”, before you can ask, the entity lifts his right sleeve a bit more. On his arm, the young man has a wound. Almost unrealistic, the cut doesn’t have a trace of blood but it seems forever frozen in this state, never healing. “Said I’d make him pay and that was enough to install fear, forever.” 

The paranoia, the look in his eyes at Jaehyun’s name, everything added up. You almost feel like throwing up, you knew humanity had its vermin but never, never did you think they’d be so...close. You never thought you’d see the entity with morals. You’re glad he explained the reasons behind his actions, behind his behaviour. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t know you would get hurt.”, you tell him, almost whispering. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”, the entity simply replies. He isn’t wrong, reminding you of centuries he had before meeting you. You don’t even know his full name, or his story. 

“Then tell me about yourself.”, you blur out, not thinking twice. For the first time, Jaehyun is taken back, blank expression on his face. The entity takes a few seconds to process your words and you continue, taking over the conversation for the first time. “Do you ever tell your story ?” He probably never does, you wonder if it’s even a question to ask. Maybe too dark, too painful, you wonder for a second if the question won’t make him mad.

Finally, when the young man regains his attitude, he raises his eyebrows for a second, “People never ask me for it. I told you, humans are greedy creatures. They use me for their two wishes and try to forget about me.” There’s something sad in his words. Now, you understand. He probably feels used, has to do people’s dirty work, grant without a word to say. Somehow, it manages to tighten your heart. Sure, a side of your brain reminds you of the entity he truly is but, another one can not help but feel sad, sad for the life he isn’t even leaving. “Tell me, I want to know.” 

Unbeknownst to you, Jaehyun might feel the smallest spark of happiness. To be cared for. You’re probably asking out of politeness but god, does it feel nice to have someone asking you about your story. “Are you sure ?”, he asks anyways, fainting some arrogance, some detachment while he still can. 

“I was a human once, cursed.”, the entity starts, almost nonchalant. Eyebrows raised, you can’t help the slight gasp that tumbles from your lips. “Cursed ?” Scooting closer to the edge, the fear of being close to him slowly disappears. 

He nods a bit, before fully getting into his story, one he never really talked about to anyone else, now that he thinks about it. “Was born a long time ago, there’s nothing interesting about my life, really.”, like he’s recalling some old, old memories, he looks up for a moment, eyebrows slightly furrowed. You don’t ask when he was born, letting him continue without stopping him. “We’d get married quite young at that time.”, he notes. 

“I was 23 and had a few choices but there was this girl.”, Jaehyun continues and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this, slight smile on his face, it’s clear he’s remembering fond memories. “Pretty brunette, her name was Haseul. We were in love.” Love, something you for a moment thought the entity wasn’t capable of. Something flashes in his eyes, regret, probably. “We were supposed to get married but not everyone was happy with it. From the choices I had, there was this young lady, her name was Agnes.”, the young man says her name with venom on his tongue, you can now only imagine what she did.

“Agnes was supposedly madly in love with me and, when she found out me and Haseul were already talking about marriage, she did this.”, it’s like even after centuries, he isn’t quite able to put words on it. A deep sigh, the entity needs some seconds to find his words, leaning back on his hands. “It was rumored that she was a witch, I never really believed it.” Can you blame him ? You didn’t believe in him either, only days ago. Hands on the border of your bed, you lean a bit closer, captivated by the story. “What did she do ?” 

“I don’t really know how but, she used black magic to curse me here. Forever stuck, if she couldn’t have me, no one could.”, he says, almost nonchalant. He probably accepted his faith long ago but for you, who just listened to his story, you have something tightening around your neck. “He was a human too, once. Loved by the wrong person, punished for loving and giving himself to someone else. He ended up stuck for it, a faith you’d never wish upon anyone, not now that you know all the things he saw and experienced. Jaehyun didn’t even deserve it, you think it’s what saddens you the most.”

“Kid, are you alright ?”, Jaehyun asks, his head to the side. Fuck, you didn’t even have a second to hide the water building up at the corner of your eyes. Quickly using your shirt to dab the droplet away, you shake your head. 

“Y-Yeah. It’s just...I didn’t know you were human before.”, you start and, he laughs a bit. He tells you he’s used to it, many misjudged him as a demon. “You didn’t deserve this.”, you mumble, feeling the lump in your throat grow as you force yourself to keep a straight face. It’s probably the lack of sleep and the recent events that have you on your nerves.

“And, can’t you wish to get out ?”, you ask. Somehow, god knows why, your brain tries to find a solution, probably the humanity in you speaking up. “Can’t I wish for you to get out.” This seems to make the young man laugh, few locks falling in front of his eyes, he has to use his hand to push them back. “Ah, doll. You’re cute. Would you ever do that ?”, he asks, laughing. You don’t answer, would you ? Conflicted and yet, something tells you that you would. You would, because you’re a good person, right ? You wouldn’t want someone stuck in such a way, you wouldn’t let someone innocent suffer if you could get them out. Is Jaehyun innocent ? All the things he did, he had to. But again, he did trap people with him, didn’t he ? Two sides fight, relentless in your brain but somehow, the way he’s looking at you with malice, like he already knows you won’t do it has you nodding. 

You nod and, it has the power to make the entity’s eyebrows raise a bit, a slight smile on his rosy lips. “It’s not how it works.”, he finally says. 

“Is there a way to get out ?”, you’re too curious. If there was a way to get him out, would you do it ? You push the thought away, not wanting to question your morals, not right now. Probably sensing the conflict you’re going through, Jaehyun shrugs. “There is, but you don’t need to know.” At this point, the young man knows what he’s doing. He pokes your curiosity, makes you want and need to know more. Obviously, it works. “Tell me !” 

“It’s a ritual. It’s a bit gruesome, I don’t think you want to hear it now, darling. Requires someone’s blood, someone who truly loves me. See, the witch thought no one would ever love me as much as she did.”, Jaehyun explains, detailing your reactions at his words. Something twists at your stomach, blood ? An old ritual, you can’t even begin to think about all the things necessary. Someone who truly loves him, a big requirement when people summon him only to use him, never getting to know the entity. Again, can you really blame them ? 

“See, nothing really interesting.”, Jaehyun concludes, “But you, darling. Tell me about yourself.” 

Monday night. 

Days trying to function with little to no sleep, days with little to no privacy. You think it’s what you miss the most, privacy. Sure, you could put a towel up on your mirror whenever you took a shower but see, you couldn’t take long showers, longs baths. You always feared Jaehyun would appear out of nowhere, manage to get the towel out and then, then what ? And yes, Jaehyun never did that before, only time he truly appeared without you being prepared for it was last night, during the party but, it was for a good cause. Right now, laying in your bed, sheet almost entirely covering your face, it’s another time of privacy you’re longing for. See, you don’t remember the last time you touched yourself. Alright, maybe that’s a hyperbola, you do remember but it seems so, so far away. Few hours of sleep and so many events you can’t even talk about to your friends have you feeling almost jetlagged, having to check your phone for the hour and day. 

Staring at your ceiling, a deep sigh leaves your lips. You can’t sleep, you can not sleep at all and you have a trip to your home town tomorrow, things to do that require all your brain power. Your brain and body won’t fall into Morpheus’ arms and, you know exactly why. You need it, you need an orgasm so, so bad. It had been on your mind for a while now, it had been clouding your mind for hours now, actually. Hanging out with your friend today did help quite a bit, helping your brain think about anything else. But now, alone in the the middle of your bed, you can’t deny. Your body doesn’t lie to you, the way you have to close your thighs, the way your hands dangerously move inch by inch towards the center of the problem. Your mind does not lie to you either, foggy images, too clear and loud thoughts. 

Yes, you could give in, let your body and mind have what it graves. But, another problem’s right in front of you. The mirror Jaehyun would usually occupy. Fuck, he never announces himself, he never tell you when he’s coming. What if he just...Pops up again ? However, you found a loophole. If your phone doesn’t work when Jaehyun is here, in your mirror, whether you see him or not, the object starts working again when he fully leaves. God knows where he goes, who’s mirror he haunts but at the very least, you know when he isn’t there, right ? God, you know it’d put you to sleep. Picking your phone up, it’s clear the device’s working exactly like it should. You could be quick with it, right ? Two in the morning, you don’t see why Jaehyun would come back now, you really don’t. 

And, fuck it. The pale moonlight freely enters your bedroom, helping you distinguish the furniture in your dorm, letting you keep an eye on your mirror just in case. Ditching your heavy blanket to the side, you let the cold air brush over your naked legs. You managed to get out of your pants a bit earlier, struggling with the heat under your sheets. Your right hand softly lands on your closed core, immediately making your leg raise. Planting your foot on your mattress. 

Your index slowly traces your lips, over the already wet fabric. God, it’s been so long and you’re already wet. You barely needed to find a memory to get off to for that. The tip of your finger easily finds your bud of nerves, lightly pressing. The small gesture has you gasping softly, keeping your voice low enough. 

Enough of teasing yourself, you do not think you have time for this, nor the patience. Pushing your panties aside, you ease a finger between your lips. Finally, some friction. It is not long until you add a second finger to the mix, using a rhythm you know would get you off quickly. Biting down on your lower lip, you have to breathe through your nose, out your mouth to keep your whines quiet enough. Strangely enough, you find yourself thinking back to Jaehyun’s breathing, how his cold hands cupped your face so gently. 

In and out, you let a mewl out, unable to muffle it. His cold, ring hugged fingers, wouldn’t they feel so, so nice on your burning skin ? 

Oh, what are you even thinking about ? You should not, you can’t. Find something else to think about, another boy to hold your fantasies. It shouldn’t be so hard, right ? It’s almost pathetic, how your mind manages to go through a list of boys you know or once you and yet, the one that has been shaking your life up keeps numbing your mind. 

Don’t give in to your thoughts, a side of your brain yells at you. 

But there's nothing wrong in this, is it ? A little secret to keep to yourself, just like you’re keeping Jaehyun a secret from everyone.

Fuck, you can’t find your clouded mind at this very moment, you almost give it, let your fingers move faster with a picture pecfect imagine of glossy fingers, shamlesly, a name you never thought you’d moan tumbles from your lips. If only, if only you’d notice the weak flashing of your phone’s screen, the drained battery on the black screen for a few seconds before it went dead. If only you’d notice. 

“Well. What do we have here ?”, you almost jump out of your skin, you almost have a heart attack right here. You knew it, you knew you shouldn’t have done it. In a quick motion, you try and grab onto your sheet but, Jaehyun’s voice stops you. Frim, it’s an order he gives you. “Oh no, don’t try and hide yourself now.” 

Fingers naturally slowing down, you can’t help the pathetic whisper that leaves from your mouth when you lose the so needed friction. Even if the young man tells you not to hide, you have to close your legs again. You think you’d be mortified, completely frozen but, it’s pure frustration that crashes over you. “God, Jaehyun ! Can’t you warm before ?”, you groaned, your left hand on your forehead. Your right hand, on the other side, grips the thin sheet under your body. You’re probably staining but, you clearly don’t care right now. There’s a low chuckle from the entity, he doesn’t even seem fazed at all. Taking a final step closer to the mirror, something flashes in his eyes. “You’re the one who called me.”, he points out. His own fingers gaze over his jawline and you almost slap yourself, you shouldn’t have such thoughts. But they do look so, so inviting. Did you call him ? Oh, you did, without even realising. 

“I heard you.”, he hums, arrogant. He seems so, so amused by the situation. Pearly white teeth bite down on his lower lip for the faintest of second, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ah, I thought you were calling me because you were in danger, doll. But here you are, touching yourself and moaning my name ? What a dirty, naughty little slut.”, the nickname rolls out his tongue too easily, it strikes right, numb your brain even more. 

There’s no point in denying it but, somehow, you try and act like his words aren’t affecting you at this very moment, like he does have your thighs closing, core aching. “Don’t call me that.”, you try, breathless. Only then do you notice the change, the sudden heat in your bedroom. A smirk grows on his rosy lips, “Why ? You clearly like it.” 

“Go away.”, you try, half believing it. 

“You don’t want me to. Why leave when you were moaning my name ?”, he barks right back. Clearly, the back and forth amuses him, it fires him up, he loves when they put up a fight, even already lost. You stay silent for a moment, unable to find words, a sentence that could make sense. “Come on, doll. Show me.”

That voice, you don’t know if you heard it before. Sultry, soft, it feels like velvet. Smooth, inviting, he has you hypnosed and, before you know it, your legs fall open. Heart pumping rapidly in your chest, its excitement that pumps into your vein but, you don’t want to admit it yet. 

Oh, the joy and cockiness that flashes in the brunette’s eyes. You think it’s the growl he lets out that takes your breath away, legs trembling. “Come closer, darling. Let me see you.” And you do. Just like last night, you scoot closer until your legs are dangling from your bed. It’s lust speaking, lust acting on your numbed, dizzy mind when your thighs spread open for him to see. 

“Pretty.”, he notes and, before you think about doubting your actions, ask him what the two of you are doing at this very moment, he continues. “Show me what you were doing.” 

Under his eyes, your right hand finds your drenched core again, hooking the fabric of your underwear to the side, you easily let your two fingers part your core before slipping them in. There’s no point in hiding your moans anymore, soft whispers tumbling from your lips. 

“God, you’re so wet.”, he notes. “Faster, fuck yourself faster.”, Jaehyun orders lowly. Captivated by his voice, you do, fingers moving at a rapid pace. It feels too good, surreal, almost. 

“Jaehyun, what are we-.”, you start, though it turns in a moan. 

“Sht, shut up. ‘m trying to make you feel good, yeah ? Isn’t that what you wanted ?”, it is, you think to yourself. The side of your brain, desperately trying to fight against it finally lets go, gives in into the pleasure. “There you go.”, he hums happily once your head hangs backwards. “Tell me, what are you thinking about ?”

The words get caught in your throat. Eyes heavy, you need a few seconds before being able to speak up again. “Your fingers.”, you admit, any ounce of shame finally leaving your body. It accepts the pleasure Jaehyun is guiding you towards. “Slow down.”, he instructs and, you do so, a small pout on your lips. 

“Look at that. Who thought you’d beg me to let you cum some days ago ? Weren’t you the one who pulled a knife on me ?”, he coes. He isn’t wrong, you whine softly at the slow rhythm you now have to keep up with. 

“Jaehyun, please.”, you whine out. Tired, sensitive, you’re on the bridge, only waiting for him to let you fall. 

“Please, what ?”, what he does next almost has you moaning. Leaning out of the mirror, his skin goes glossy again, just like in the frat house’s bathroom. Shining under the moonlight, his upper body’s so close. The same human like je ne sais quoi, one that has you leaning closer, closer to him. The coldest of his fingers, what you were thinking about seconds ago, you feel them again. In the dead of the night, skin burning, the entity places his hand right around your neck. He isn’t even pressing and yet, he manages to get your breathing uneven. “Please what, doll ?”, he asks again, almost archly. “Please, let me come, please.”, you beg, throwing any shame and dignity out of your opened window. Clearly appeased and glad by your words, the brunette lets his fingers press harder, harder. Cutting your airways, he tilts your head up, enough that you feel obligated to look at him. “Come on, make yourself cum.”

Face close, he’s millimeters away, lips brushing against yours but never does he kiss you. Keeping his right hand around your throat, his left hand guides your fingers, helping you, guiding you. “Pretty little thing.”, he coes the moment he feels you twitching. Pretty brown eyes set on you, he details, drinks in any one of your expressions. Under his gaze, you take minutes to hit it. Your orgasm is an intense one, crashes over your body, Jaehyun has to let you breathe. 

“There you go.”, voice soft, it sounds far, far away. You take minutes to come down, minutes for your mind to clear again. “Sht, it’s alright.”, you can hear the smirk in his voice and, before you can point it out, sleep knocks you out. 

Realization, it’s realization that crashes over you the next morning. Or rather, the next afternoon. It’s around one in the afternoon when you wake up, sunlight freely entering in your room. Birds, voices, cars, the city’s wide awake and shakes you up. Truthfully, you’d rather not wake up today.

Your gaze falls on your phone, battery intact and on, the multiple texts you have from your family makes you understand. You missed your train, great. Even better, you remember last night. Is it regret ? Rather something else you don’t understand. You don’t really regret what happened, rather fear what will happen next. Jaehyun isn’t human, not anymore at least. Stuck in a mirror, he’s bound to leave at some point. He’s an entity, doesn’t that clash with your morals ? 

Your brain goes miles an hour and you aren’t even able to stop it. Maybe, maybe a shower could help ? You need to get ready anyways. Family’s waiting, worried for you and here you are, stomach empty hanging a towel on the mirror of your bathroom.

What the fuck did you do ? That’s the question that keeps turning again and again in your head. But, it didn’t hurt anyone, right ? God, the grey area you’re in has you in a headache in minutes. Do you want him to leave, or not ? It’s a hard question, one you can’t answer, even at the end of your shower. Shouldn’t you want him to leave ? Isn’t he supposed to be a scary legend ? That’s the problem. He isn’t so scary, he isn’t so mean and cold. But again, he’s an entity. 

Tumbling in your bedroom, your hand runs in your hair out of pure frustration, passing back and forth in the hallway that connects your bed and bathroom, where Jaehyun cannot see you. It’s funny, you look like him now. Are you becoming like him ? Or worse, like Eric ? You don’t even have a wish right now. It’s then that you do what you’re best, or worse at doing, You act on impulse. 

Walking right in front of your mirror, you take a deep breath. You think the sweat gathering at your hairline’s going to ruin your makeup, the outfit you chose to wear isn’t appropriate for the weather. Anyways, you try your best a firm voice and call, “Jaehyun.” 

On cue, he appears. Slight smirk on his face, he looks too pleased, probably because of last night’s event. Is it a smirk or, a genuine smile ? That, you can’t really tell. The brunette told you, you were easy to read and before you can understand his emotions, he understands your own. His smile fades into something more serious, catching up. Something’s wrong. 

“Yes ?”, he asks, almost carefully. He never saw you like this, there’s a spark in your eyes he isn’t able to understand. Confusion, regret, fear, frustration ?

“I have my last wish.”, you tell him. Your heart’s heavy, for some reason. You shouldn’t be really, you think you found a solution to your problem, didn’t you ? “I want everything to go back to normal. Take back my popularity.”, you tell him in one go, once you have the courage to. 

For a second, you see amusement flashing in his eyes, like he’s about to make fun of your wish. Actually, he was about to, question you before he catches on. He catches on way too quickly. Amusement quickly turns to...Disappointment, anger. His eyes quickly travel from your eyes to a point in your room you can’t see, back to your eyes. Features twisted, his breathing slightly changes, so does the temperature in the room. 

“I know what you’re trying to do.”, it’s a growl, a dip in his tone that mimics the shift in the temperature, suddenly getting colder. 

The limp in your throat doesn’t help, cold sweat probably ruins your makeup as you try your best to keep your composure. 

“Jaehyun, it’s-”, you try, almost turning desperate. Your words get caught when he takes a step closer, you know he can and might lean out but he doesn’t do it, yet. 

“You’re trying trying to get rid of me.”, it’s laced with anger. Anger, venom and disappointment. It’s the lather that has your heart breaking. You’re human after all, it’s only natural that you feel bad about your decision. 

“I’m not trying to get rid of you ! It’s just that, after last night…”, you can’t even explain yourself, you’re unable to put words into your feelings. 

“I knew it, you’re like everyone else.”, he spits out. His nose crunches up, disgusted. The young man looks down at you, eyebrows furrow, lips twisting. “Using me.”, the words echo in your room, he uses every mirror to let you know. 

“Jaehyun, stop.”, you beg. You beg, tears in your eyes. Obviously, he doesn’t. He has it heavy on his chest, he’ll speak even if you don’t hear him. 

“Using me to get what you want, only to ditch me. Leave me. Forget about me.”, anger clear in his voice, it’s loud, louder than what a normal man could be. The slight fog around his body grows thicker, darker, almost threatening. Goosebumps on your arms, the shirt you’re wearing doesn’t help how cold you’re feeling. 

“I don’t want to forget you !”, you choke between tears, freely letting them fall down your cheeks. “You don’t understand ! You can’t - You can’t stay with me forever.” You hiccup, using your fingers to dry your tears. 

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down as he blinks slowly. Anger has his jaw tight, chest raising up and down at a steady rhythm. 

“I could’ve.”, he argues but it’s clear he half believes it. He couldn’t stay forever by your side, you wouldn’t be able to live your life in such a way. Shooting him a look that says it all, he doesn’t argue, he doesn’t continue. “You said your wish anyways. So be it.” 

Unlike last time, it isn’t as happy, isn’t as fierce. It’s abandonment, he has to anyways. The glow behind him changes, shifts. 

You can’t feel the changes of your wish right away. Jaehyun stays a cold face, almost refusing to look at you. The breath you didn’t know you were holding gets out in a sigh, your shoulders flopping down. 

Silence. Silence for seconds while he looks to the side. 

And suddenly, he turns around again, looking right into your eyes. “I have my wish, too.”, he says, coldly. 

Before you can even argue, help him find something, offer one yourself, he cuts you off. Letting his hand out of the mirror, he doesn’t even completely lean out.

Looking down at his hand, you already know. You know what he’s going to ask for. “Jaehyun…”, you try, voice small. You don't want to cry again, throat completely cut. 

“I want a dance, darling.”, he says, nickname sounding cold. You were expecting this wish, somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d think that maybe, he wouldn’t want to let you go. Nonetheless, it still tightens you heart, makes it pound in your chest. 

If you could drop to your knees at this very moment, you would. But your body’s frozen, stuck in place. The plea you whisper isn’t of any use. You’re obligated to, before you even know it, your body’s pushed. 

Your hand lands in his, cold skin against your own. Touch gentle, he guides you towards him. 

To effortlessly move into another world, it feels like crossing a thin waterfall. You have to close your eyes when Jaehyun gently pulls your body towards the mirror. For a second, you don’t open your eyes, not knowing what to expect. Entire, pitch black room ? Jaehyun’s true appearance ? You don’t know, you can’t even begin to imagine. Your laced hands in the air, Jaehyun’s left hand placed itself in your back, classic position for a slow dance. “Y/N.”, he calls softly, too softly for the wish he just asked for. 

You look up. 

He looks normal, entirely human. No more glossy skin, you can see every small detail, every long lash, every freckle, deep dimples on each side of his lips. Milky skin, rosy lips. He doesn’t look as mad as he did previously, like having you right next to him managed to appease him. Unable to answer, you only look into his eyes. Even brighter, brown and golden sparks, the light he was lacking before is here, fully. He looks alive. When you don’t answer, a song starts playing, one you quickly recognise. Sway. It sounds far away, like a distant dream, it resonates. Only then, do you have the guts to look around. Jaehyun’s wearing the same clothes, around you, everything looks glossy. Glass walls without an edge, you could make the faintest outline of a castle, golden lights and pretty chandelier. Heavy, the pictures look wavy, like casted upon a distorted mirror. You can’t recognise not make anything else up. But, what takes you back, rips a gasp out of your lips, are the people. 

Dozens of people dancing, slowly to the song. They mimic you and Jaehyun’s movements as he guides you, makes you sway, bend under his expert hands. All those people dancing and yet, they all look empty. It’s only when your eyes fall upon a man, dressed in royal uniform that you understand. All these people, he trapped them all with him. 

You gasp and, as you’re about to question him, he speaks up. “Darling, look at me.”, he demands.

When you do, he meets you with a soft smile, comprehensive look in his eyes. “I understand, I understand why you did it.”, he starts. Finally, you’re the one to break him off. It’s clear he’s the one guiding your body, you don’t think you have any control over it at this very moment. He makes you dance in his makeshift castle, the only place he can rule over. 

“I didn’t know what do to.”, you confess. Do you want to leave him ? No. But the grey area it leaves you in keeps hurting your brain, thorns you apart every second. “My intentions were never to use you.”, you tell him, gulping down as you pass a couple twirling, clearly from different centuries. Jaehyun knows, the words he let out of pure anger, he did not think them one bit. After all, you didn’t even know what to wish for. “I know.”, he calmly says. Face close to yours, you don’t mind the proximity. “Enjoy the moment with me. Please, doll.” 

How can you truly enjoy the moment when you’re sure he’s going to trap you at any moment, have you stuck with him forever ? You almost lean into the idea, give in. You know this song well enough, the end is near and all you can do is look up into Jaehyun’s eyes. If he wants you here, you can not fight it. Can you ? 

The entity has his eyes closed, forehead against your own. Softly, he whispers out only for you to hear. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for making me feel love again.”, he starts. “But I can not be selfish.” Before you can let something out, his lips softly press against the bone of your cheek and, his hands let you free to move, moments before the end of the song. An arm in front of his, he bows down with a slight smile. It isn’t hard to see the sadness he isn’t hiding. “I guess this is a goodbye. Go, run.” 

You have well enough time and, when you understand that, you run, just like he asked. Heart pumping, you run, run towards the small frame where you can see the outline of your bedroom and, before you know it, the same waterfall. The sudden shift has you tumbling down, dropping to your knees. 

“Jaehyun !”, you don’t care about your voice right now, you scream loud enough. Down on the fall, facing your mirror, Jaehyun faces you again, squatting down like he loves to do. The same sad smile on his face. Your hand flat on the surface, you hit your mirror like you’re hitting a window. You see it, he’s facing, slowly. Translucid, it’s a question of seconds before he’s entirely gone. Then, when tears fill your eyes, an invisible hand twist your heart, you understand. 

Again and again, you tap on the glass.

“I’ll get you out, I promise !” 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Pain in My Heart // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Could I please request a Bridgerton imagine where Eloise or Daphne are trying to matchmake Reader with one of their brothers (you can pick which one) but Reader actually hits it off with another brother who's in love at first sight (again, your choice!!). - @libraryoffandomsuniverse

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this has taken!! I hope I have done your request justice. I had a lot of fun writing this, I’m pretty proud of what I’ve come up so I hope you like!! Thank you for requesting! Title: Pain in My Heart - Otis Redding

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Romantic)

Warnings: pining, mutual pining, awful flirting (I can't write it for the life in me), unrequited love (?), a pride and prejudice moment, love confessions, fluff, very very light angst.

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a lot that Daphne and Eloise Bridgerton had in common. It was thought by their mother that due to their closeness in age, they would get along swimmingly. However, by the time that Eloise could speak for herself, it became increasingly clear that there were to be no two people different than that of Eloise and Daphne.

However, whilst the two did not share the same tastes in music or literature, they were united in the hope that they would see their elder brothers happily in love.

It is on a Wednesday in the middle of February when Daphne decides that it is time for her eldest brother, Anthony, to find a wife.

Her decision is made when Anthony stalks into the family drawing room. The only sign of his anger being the blazing of his eyes. Dramatically, he throws himself onto the closest couch, his legs stretching across the pale blue fabric as he laments the meddling of mothers.

Daphne barely represses the urge to roll her eyes. She could tell that Eloise was having a hard time not telling her brother how easy he had it in comparison to rights of women and marriage.

Thankfully, however, Anthony is saved from such a lecture by the announcement of a beloved friend. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had known the Bridgerton family for as long as she had been alive. The same age as Daphne, the two had fallen into an easy friendship that grew more cherished the more time passed.

Upon her announcement, Anthony sits up with keen interest. An action not missed by both Daphne and Eloise – they share a look, one only understood by sisters with masses of brothers.

“Dear (Y/N),” Daphne greets, standing from her chair to greet her lifelong friend, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been very well though it has only been a couple of days since you saw me last.”

Daphne laughs; a light and airy sound. “I can still miss you in that time. Come, sit by me and we can catch up.”

The two women are soon joined by Eloise who places her book down on the table, spine up so she does not lose her page. From where they sit, neither Anthony nor Benedict can hear what the women seem to be whispering about though it seems to be of a serious issue with grave looks on their faces.

Benedict decides that he doesn’t like the look of frustration on her face; the furrow of her brows. If it wouldn’t raise questions of his sanity, he would press his thumb to the furrow, smoothing out her brow so not a trace of the worry remained.

“(Y/N),” Anthony calls, interrupting the conversation currently taking place between the three women, “Would you be attending Lord and Lady Hopton’s ball later on this week? Lord Hopton has done nothing but discuss the expense being put into the event.”

(Y/N) swallows her small sip of tea, placing the cup and saucer down on the table before answering the eldest Bridgerton. “I do plan on attending,” She smiles, fiddling with her gloved fingers.

A pleased smile breaks out across Anthony’s face as he nods. Turning away from her, Anthony walks back to the pale blue couch that only mere moments ago he had thrown himself across in vexation at his dear mother. Now, he sits down gently, making sure every ounce of his nobility is on show.

Benedict cannot help but roll his eyes at the antics of his elder brother. As if on a covert mission for the crown, Benedict’s gaze slides back to her – runs over her figure, taking in the way her dress sits on her form and the way her smile lights up her whole face. He’s a fool in love, he realises, but he would rather be a fool in love with her than a fool in love with anyone else.

It’s as if he finally understands what the poets write about; how the artists never paint more than their muse. As Benedict peers down at the sketchbook in his hands, he comes to realise that he has been drawing her for months. He has found his muse and it’s close to breaking him when he sees the plotting glance shared between Daphne and Eloise.

(Y/N) sits at the table, utterly unaware of the plan being concocted between his sisters. He has the urge to scream, to yell but he keeps quiet. Benedict becomes the very definition of decorum; smiling politely at her when their eyes meet from across the room. The very moment sends his heart skipping a beat before picking up a rhythm he isn’t certain is compatible with life. He has to stop himself from reaching up to grab his chest to ensure his heart doesn’t beat right out of it.

All too soon the moment is over, and she returns to laughing with his younger sisters, but even she knows that something has changed between them. (Y/N) wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight; the very notion belonging only to fairytales, but she, herself, could not deny the thrill that overtook her body when she met the blue eyes of Benedict Bridgerton.

-----------

Lord and Lady Hopton owned one of the last remaining Tudor residences in London. Many had fallen during the reformation, but in some strange stroke of luck, the Hopton’s home had remained largely undamaged. From there, it passed down the male line as all properties and titles were wont to do in such a society.

The current Lord and Lady prided themselves on the tracking of their lineage, dedicating themselves to the conservation of their home. It was rare for them to throw a ball such as this one, but with the favourable weather, Lady Hopton was able to convince her husband it would be well enough for the courtyard to be used to entertain their nearest and dearest.

There was no set theme; an idea many were grateful for. As much as (Y/N) loved the dress up, the competitive nature between eligible ladies wasn’t something she was in the mood for.

The atmosphere is much more relaxed as (Y/N) takes a turn about the room, smiling politely at the women she has grown up with in London society. They would be civil towards each other, but there was no real friendships forged. (Y/N) was quite content with the Bridgerton brood.

Though they had arrived together, (Y/N) found herself wandering from the comforting presence of the family. She could feel Anthony’s eyes on her, and she thinks of Daphne’s suggestion from the other day; the eldest Bridgerton girl had all but suggested that (Y/N) marry Anthony.

Whilst the suggestion was flattering, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the moment she shared with Benedict. She thinks of the moment often; remembers the way his stare felt, as if he was staring into her very soul and he liked what he found. She thinks of the way her body responded; the shiver sent through her and how she realised that she liked the way he looked at her. As if she hung the moon and stars in the sky for him, and him alone.

(Y/N) loses herself in the crowd. She wanders and wanders, watching new love form and old love strengthen as she catches sight of couples beginning their night. (Y/N) continues her ruminating until she bumps into something hard. Another body.

(Y/N) cringes when she finds herself face to face with the chest of Benedict Bridgerton. “Benedict!” She gasps, “I’m sorry.”

He steadies her with a gentle hand to her elbow. “You have nothing to apologise for. You looked to be deep in thought, I’m only sorry for interrupting you.”

(Y/N) feels her skin begin to flush. I was thinking of you, she wants to cry at the man, but she only just manages to refrain herself.

Benedict laughs before he can stop himself. “If you’re reacting like that, I have to know what you were thinking of.”

“Nothing for nosies,” She responds, a coy smile crossing her painted lips.

Benedict gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, (Y/N).”

“I’m sure you’ll recover,” (Y/N) laughs, patting Benedict’s arm in mock pity.

“I don’t know,” Benedict expresses, his eyes running over her face and outfit. “I think I’m going to need someone to nurse me back to health.”

(Y/N) feels her skin once again begin to heat at the insinuation in his words. She had encountered banter before with the Bridgerton brothers, but she had never encountered such overt flirting. Benedict’s eyes glittered with mirth; his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes – this was him. This was Benedict in his element; he was an artist, a gentleman, and a man that could render her speechless with a simple line of speech.

She finds it hard to respond for a moment; finds it hard to string two thoughts together in his intoxicating presence. She flounders for a second, watching Benedict continue to smile widely as if he had nothing better to do than waste time with her.

Eventually, she collects herself enough. She peers up at the man from under her lashes, fluttering them to the best of her ability as she whispers, “Such requests may make the recovery period a lot longer and a lot harder.”

Leaving the man speechless, (Y/N) pats his arm once more before taking her leave. Feeling hot and bothered by her encounter with Benedict, (Y/N) ambles over to drinks table. Daphne and Eloise stand there nursing their own drinks; they smile widely at their friend as she approaches the table.

“Have you given thought to what I suggested the other day?” Daphne asks; watching her best friend over the rim of her lemonade glass.

“Courting Anthony?” (Y/N) clarifies, reaching for her glass of the tepid drink. She frowns absentmindedly; it was one of the main issues with balls, they never could keep the drinks cold enough to be refreshing throughout the night. They almost always turned sour.

“The very suggestion,” (Y/N)’s dearest friend states with a smile.

“It wouldn’t work,” (Y/N) protests, urging her friends to see the truth. “We aren’t suited for each other.”

“Anthony disagrees,” Daphne chimes, looking and feeling all to superior in the conversation. “He confided to me only yesterday that he wants to court you.”

The ground is close to swallowing her whole; the walls becoming far too close for her liking. Her mouth is dry when she tries to swallow around the lump in her throat. “That wouldn’t be fair to him,” She croaks, feeling all too close to tears.

“Why not?” Daphne demands, making her vexation known by placing her hands on her hips.

“Daphne,” Eloise interrupts, glancing warily between the two women. “(Y/N) isn’t in love with Anthony. She’s in love with someone else.”

The fight leaves her beloved friend in an instant; she brings a hand to her mouth to cover the shock of Eloise’s words. “I didn’t know,” She whispers, “I wouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” (Y/N) appeases, “I’m rather new to this.”

“Do we know who it is?” Daphne asks, unable to keep the excitement off her face as she thinks of the handful of men worthy enough to love her dear friend.

(Y/N) sighs, deciding whether to come clean and tell her longest friend that she has found herself hopelessly in love with her brother. She hadn’t even expected it. “It’s Benedict,” She eventually confesses, feeling pressured by the investigative gaze of Daphne Bridgerton.

“Benedict?” Daphne asks, confused, “As in my other brother?”

“The very same,” (Y/N) comments lightly… too lightly as if ready to be on the defence for her feelings for Benedict.

Daphne blinks once, twice before her face breaks with the most beautiful smile. “Oh (Y/N)!” She cries, “This is wonderful!”

“He might not love me back,” (Y/N) whispers, doing her best to keep a light spin on the situation but the idea that Benedict may not return her feelings hurts far more than it should.

“And Anthony still wants to court you,” Eloise reminds her, her voice close to pity.

“Speaking of the devil,” Daphne murmurs with a smile on her face, “Anthony is heading this way.”

“He is?” (Y/N) asks, pivoting on the spot to the find the eldest Bridgerton making his way through the crowd. He smiles at his sisters, briefly checking their glasses to ensure they were sticking strictly to the lemonade offered. When he is suited with what he finds, he turns to (Y/N) and holds out his hand. “Would you care to dance?” He asks her with a confident smile.

She nods her consent, taking his offered hand and allowing herself to be led to the floor. Anthony leads her expertly across the floor; lessons as a child and years in the London society forging him to be an impressive dancer. He makes her laugh as they continue dance, and whilst (Y/N) has a good time with the eldest Bridgerton, she cannot see herself falling for the man like she can see her entire future with Benedict.

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

The ball had wound down naturally; families and lovers beginning to make their way home through the early morning London streets. (Y/N) travels with the Bridgertons, having arrived with them in the first place. Daphne focuses on the streets of London, doing her best not to fall asleep before getting home to her bed.

“How are you getting home?” Daphne asks, not removing her gaze from the darkened streets of the capital city.

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to have to wait for another carriage,” (Y/N) complains, holding a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn that had slipped out. The tiredness was clinging to her bones now; she wanted nothing more to crawl into her own bed, sink into the pillows and fall into a dreamworld where Benedict climbs into the other side of the bed.

“Stay with us,” Eloise invites, meeting Anthony’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t be an imposition?” (Y/N) asks smally; the last thing she wanted was to be burden on her friends.

“You never could be,” Anthony smiles, “You’re always welcome to stay the night.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” She whispers, reaching for his hand in the dark and squeezing.

Silence falls for the rest of the ride; the weariness of each of them punctuating the air, creating a warmer atmosphere that leaves (Y/N) blinking away sleep. Eloise does her best to remain awake, but her head soon winds up on Anthony’s shoulder to which the man looks the surprised. He recovers quickly, adjusting his younger sister to make her more comfortable.

The Bridgerton siblings and (Y/N) all sigh in blessed relief when the carriage rolls to a stop outside Bridgerton House. The door opening lets in a cold blast of air, making her shiver as she reaches for the handle to help herself down.

“Here,” Benedict’s voice sounds in the dark light of night, “Let me help you.”

His hand reaches for hers; it clasps hers gently as he helps her down from the carriage. All too soon, his hand falls from hers and (Y/N) is left feeling bereft from the absence of his touch. “Thank you,” She whispers, taking a risk and glancing up at the blue eyes already fixed steadily on her.

“You’re welcome,” He murmurs. Benedict glances back to the carriage to find the rest of his family descending on them. “Goodnight,” He whispers, ducking his head in a bow and leaving her on the steps of Bridgerton House.

(Y/N) watches the man depart in somewhat of a daze. If she focused hard enough, she could still feel his hand in hers. She could feel every fingerprint, every crease, every line in his palm. She could feel it all; she wanted to feel more. She wanted everything with that man; would happily offer up her everything for a single glimpse at what it could be like to wake up in his arms and be happy.

Sighing heavily, she touches a hand to her forehead, pausing in the grand entryway of the Bridgerton family home. She felt so keenly for the man that she knew she would suffer the worst fate to man should he not return her feelings: heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” Anthony calls from the door, his arm around Eloise’s waist. “Would you meet me in my study? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” She allows, smiling at the sight before her. Anthony whispers something to his sister to which Eloise offers her goodnights and begins to climb the stairs to her room, Anthony following behind her with a worried look on his face that only a beloved brother could master.

Anthony’s study smelled of wood polish; the mahogany desk sitting by the windows being the main feature of the room. It’s dark wood providing the much of the fragrance in the room; it’s a comforting scent. (Y/N) smiles when she realises that it’s comforting as it reminds her of the Viscount; the scent of his spicy cologne intermingled with the wood, becoming one and the same.

“Thank you for waiting,” Anthony whispers, closing the door behind him, “I know how tired you are, but I really wanted to speak to you.”

“Whatever’s the matter?”

Suddenly, Anthony no longer holds the prowess of a Viscount but rather, looks like the eighteen year old boy handed a peerage all too soon. He runs a hand through his hair out of nerves, pacing back and forth behind his desk. Eventually, he comes to a slow stop, resting his hands on the back of his father’s ageing chair. “Have you given any thought to your future?”

“It’s been on my mind more and more these days,” She answers honestly. It’s all she has thought of since her eyes met Benedict’s across the room and she got a glimpse into what her mornings, afternoons, evenings with the man could be like.

“I think we could be good together,” Anthony argues, offering up a slice of his heart for the taking, “I think we work well together.”

“Anthony, may I be honest with you for a moment?”

“I’d hope for nothing more.”

She takes a deep breath; steeling her nerves before smiling at the Viscount. “With all due respect, I don’t think you do love me.”

Anthony moves to interrupt her; a flash of anger and upset in his eyes. He quietens when she holds up a single hand; begging him to let her continue. “Anthony, I think you were looking for someone to stop your mother from pestering you about marriage. I just happened to walk into the room at the right moment.”

Anthony frowns; he takes in (Y/N)’s words, letting them roll around his mind as he thinks back to the first day when he realised he could truly love the woman sitting in front of him. Violet Bridgerton had been on him from the moment he walked through the front door; producing yet another list of eligible women in London that he could find a potential match in. He had taken the list from his beloved mother and in the privacy of his study, he had ripped the list to tiny pieces making sure that none of the names were legible.

On some level, he has always loved her. (Y/N) had been in his life from the very day she was born; mother being friends, Violet able to offer (Y/N)’s advice as she was her firstborn. At this point, Violet was a seasoned expert on motherhood. Anthony had always known of the girl that was best friends with Daphne; he had watched her grow up. On some level, he has always had some feeling for her.

He knows know, though, that those feelings could never broach romance. There was too deep an affection between them.

“You’re right,” Anthony states, “It wouldn’t be a love match.”

“It wouldn’t,” She affirms, taking a seat in front of the large, wooden desk. Silhouettes of his parents and siblings decorate the space; it brings a fond smile to her face. Anthony presented a strong front, but in private, he was as much the adoring son and brother.

“But you think you have found your love match,” Anthony declares, wanting to clear the air.

“I’m not sure,” She laughs mirthlessly. “I have no clue as to whether he feels the same.”

“He’d be an idiot, not to,” Anthony compliments, “Do I know the lucky man?”

(Y/N) looks sheepish as she stares at the Viscount. She had already confessed to Daphne and Eloise – what harm could one more person do?

“It’s Benedict.”

“You love him,” Anthony whispers; not an accusation, not an ounce of anger in his voice. A simple fact stated for the room.

(Y/N) nods. “I do. I love him with all that I am and all that I know I could be.”

A sad, bittersweet smile crosses Anthony’s face; he won’t speak of how the words hurt him. He reaches for her hand and clasps it tightly between both of his.

“Go to him,” He whispers, “You have my blessing.”

(Y/N) stands. Her intention is to leave the room and find the Bridgerton who had so readily taken root within her heart, but first she crosses to where Anthony stands behind his desk. He watches her with curious eyes as the silk of her glove brushes his cheek; his eye flutter closed when he feels the featherlight press of her lips and the whisper of her gratitude.

Anthony keeps his eyes closed when she pulls away from him; he keeps them closed until he hears the tell-tale click of the door. It is only then that Anthony allows himself to open his eyes and peer into the heartbreak now cracking open his chest. Not for the love he though he felt, but for the utter want racing through his body. He wants a love like that; he was going to find a love like that.

They would be happy together; he thinks to himself as he breathes in the floral scent of her perfume. They would be happy together, perfectly suited to the point that Anthony craves such intimacy. One day; he promises, one day he would hold such a treasure within his hands.

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

Bridgerton House remained warm and inviting even after the family had long retired for bed. The sconces lining the walls still lit; their warm light easy on anyone’s eyes should they need to traverse the hallways for whatever reason.

The path to Benedict’s room isn’t one she has taken often. Thinking on it, (Y/N) realises that save for being shown the door on her first ever visit to the London home, she has not stepped foot close to the room since. Until tonight, that is.

Her skirts swish delicately underfoot as (Y/N) makes her way to his room. She doesn’t dare utter a single breath for the fear of being caught; all around her slumber her closest friends. If she were caught by a member of staff, her reputation balanced on being ruined.

Her hand trembles as she clenches it into a fist, raises it to the plain white door and knocks twice. She waits on the threshold, twisting her fingers into her skirts – a nervous habit she’s had since she was a child. She was thankful that she no longer bit her nails down to the bed.  

“Come in,” calls his quiet voice and her nerves only heighten. Taking a deep breath, she pushes open the door that could reveal her future.

“(Y/N),” Benedict gasps, the deep v of his shirt falling open, revealing far more of his bare chest than (Y/N) had expected to see tonight.

“I wanted to talk to you,” She whispers, hovering between the doorway and his room. She does her best to not stare at the defined muscles on display but loses the battle. Her eyes run over the parts of his muscular torso and the strong forearms shown with the sleeves of white shirt rolled up. She didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to the forearms of a person, but here was Benedict proving her wrong.

“What if you get caught?” He whisper-asks, worry lacing his tone as he glances at something behind her. She turns on instinct only to find an empty hallway and three lit sconces.

“Anthony knows where I am,” She retorts, stepping further into Benedict’s room.

“Anthony?”

“He gave me his blessing.”

“To enter my room… unattended… late at night?”

“Essentially, yes,” She smiles, thinking back to her conversation with the Viscount.

“Why were you talking to Anthony?” Benedict asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t like the simmering jealousy he feels that the picture of (Y/N) alone with Anthony in his study. He clears his throat to chase away the hollow ache of envy; he doesn’t want to picture the conversation. He doesn’t think he could handle it.

“He asked me to court him.”

“Oh,” Benedict responds, feeling his heart begin to crack in his chest. “What did you say?”

“I told him I couldn’t. We wouldn’t suit each other and one other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“I don’t love him. I love someone else.”

“You do? Do I know them?”

(Y/N) laughs, stretching her arms out as she gestures to Benedict’s bedroom. “I’m stood in your room in the middle of the night, Benedict, with full knowledge that if I were to be caught by any of the staff, I would be ruined. What does that tell you?”

Benedict frowns, refusing to let himself fall into the hope growing in his chest. He feels like Icarus; too close to the sun, too close to thing he wants most in this world.

“Stop this pain in my heart,” She commands weakly. “Stop this pain and tell me if you feel the same. If you don’t, I understand but I’d ask you not to tell anyone of this midnight visit.”

His mouth runs dry, and he finds it hard to answer. He’s falling, falling, falling for the woman stood across from him and he cannot find the words to accurately describe the depth of his feelings for her. That day in the drawing room – he’s known her for years, always been aware of her, but that day, it was as if he was finally seeing her for the pure beauty that she inhabits. She could rival Aphrodite herself.

Upset shutters across (Y/N)’s face as she nods twice, trying her best to keep the burn of tears at bay. “It’s okay, Benedict,” She whispers, turning for the door, “Thank you for listening.”

At the last moment, Benedict reaches out and snatches her wrist. “Don’t go,” He pleads, “Don’t leave me. I don’t think I could live with myself if you left me.”

“I don’t understand,” She whispers; confusion lacing her voice. Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at the man before her, “You didn’t say anything. You stayed silent; I took that as my cue to leave.”

Benedict shakes his head. “Don’t go,” He whispers, bringing a hand up to card through the loose strands of hair framing her face. He almost preens as she leans into his touch. “I feel the same, I love you just the same,” Benedict confesses; feeling the weight leave his chest.

“You do?” She asks; her voice small but hopeful.

“I do,” Benedict smiles, brushing her cheek with his finger, “I think I always have, but I didn’t realise until recently.”

(Y/N) sniffles as tears threaten to make an appearance. She laughs wetly, unable to stop the giggle from leaving her mouth as Benedict wipes away the tears. “I hope those are happy tears,” He murmurs wryly.

“They are,” She answers, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her level. “They definitely are.”

“Good,” He answers.

Their faces are so close now it would only take a fraction of a movement to press their lips together; to seal the promise of their union. “Kiss me, Benedict,” She whispers; need lacing her voice as she stares into his famously blue eyes.

Benedict doesn’t need to be told twice; it isn’t often he gets to kiss a goddess.

********

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[lilxberry]

NSFW Alphabet - Jughead Jones*

NSFW Alphabet Version

Fic Relating To Kink: COMING SOON

Warnings: NSFW obviously. Mentions of SMUT. Contains sexual gifs that may include nudity.

_______________

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

God, he’s so soft and sweet. He takes such good care of you, softly asking if you’re okay, if you need anything or just plainly whispering sweet words into your ear as you come down from both your highs.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jughead likes his hands for many reasons. There’s surprisingly quite a difference in size compared to yours and they cover a large area of your skin when he kneads and squeezes and grips at your thighs when things heat up between you. Plus, he can certainly pleasure you well with them *wink wonk*

Now, he absolutely loves, LOVES, your thighs. It’s pretty obvious from the amount of touching. Jughead loves to tease you by subtly placing his hand a bit to high up on them, giving them a quick squeeze before massaging his thumb across it, sending tingles straight through your being and a heat rushing straight to your core.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I mean, you’re both still in high school so you’re pretty careful. Some form of contraception is in play usually. It’s rare you take the risk of pulling out but, when you do, God he loves the sight of it covering your ass and the small of your back or covering your thighs and abdomen.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jughead honestly can’t get enough of you sat in his lap facing him, running your hands through his hair, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, warming his cock as he writes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s experienced, but only in so many ways. He can definitely hit the right spot when it comes to missionary but, throw in a position that’s new for him and it becomes a very important learning curve in your relationship.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

He kinda loves it when you’re on top, riding him at any pace that you set. When he’s pretty pissed or needs to release some pent-up energy/anger, he can go pretty primal and dominant, pounding into you vicariously but usually, you’re on top, whispering sweet words to each other.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s pretty serious when it comes to your intimacy but, that doesn’t mean there aren’t moments where he won’t make you laugh a smidge, and vice versa.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Jughead is more on the natural side, but only because there isn’t really any grooming nessicary. You both agree that you’re comfortable with how everything is maintained in both of your lower areas.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jug is super romantic. I mean, he’s an author for God’s sake. Even if the pace or position isn’t exactly one that would “sweep you off your feet”, his words definitely will.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s human. He’s a warm-blooded male that has serious levels of testosterone. Of course, he masturbates. Granted, it practically never happens anymore, especially since he barely did so when single.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jug enjoys marking you and being marked. Not to an extreme, of course. Light scratches, gentle biting, light spanking on your ass and the back of your thighs, nothing that leaves visual evidence for more than a few days.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s usually over yours and desk and bed are usually the surfaces you find yourselves doing it on a lot. You’ve had the sneaky session at school, but nothing compares to the comfort and privacy at home.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, so many things could get this boy going when it comes to you. When you’re angry, when you’re making huge breaks in cases that you work on together, when you throw your leg over him when you’re cuddling and watching a movie, when you cross your leg over the other and show them off slightly. Anything you do could get his motor running.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Jughead absolutely hates the prospect of sharing, even just visually.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

You two actually don’t take part in oral as often as the usual expected when it comes to sexually active teens. You two are rather good at it but prefer to feel each other in other ways.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It’s all dependant on mood, position and occasion, along with time. Usually, like mentioned before, when you’re on top, you usually set the pace, with the occasional assistance from him.

You tend to go slow and sensual, but if your limited with time or your in a particular mood, it can definitely be quickened.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Definitely not opposed it them, especially with everything going on in Riverdale. You never know when you can get interrupted. Snap thrusts of his cock and quickened circles around your clit and you’re all set for a quick session before you have to go meet the gang.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risk taking isn’t a huge part within your sex lives as it is in your everyday lives. Jughead and you both agreed that less risk is definitely good.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t game to experiment. Maybe a new position you are yet to try, maybe something that usually isn’t found within the bedroom brought in.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can actually go for a good 3 rounds with enough time to cool off in-between. Obviously, if you haven’t participated in such activities in length of time, it’s usually one and both you and Jughead are done. Although, that singular one round can definitely be long.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any, and you only really have a single bullet vibrator. He usually isn’t around when it’s put to use but, it can definitely come into play when you guys do phone sex. Plus, he thinks he does a better job than a little toy. (Which he does.)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

OH BOY DOES HE TEASE. He whispers absolute pure filth when in public while he smirks ever so smugly. His touch is like fire when he does this. Any little touch feels searing hot, and you feel weak at the knees. You undoubtedly become putty in his hands and it just becomes a game of how long you can hold out until you’re both alone.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Apart from the sweet talk while inside of you, Jughead is a grunter. His grunts are deep which only egg you on further.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He would love to be dominated fully. He loves his power over you in the bedroom, even when you’re on top, he’s still relatively in control. So, the thought of you taking charge, even tying his hands to the headboard of the bed all the while you control when he cums is something that really gets him going.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Jughead is pretty average but that doesn’t lower the quality of pleasure he gives you. It seems he’s just the perfect size for you, hitting all of the right spots.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Although he never masturbated a lot, his sex drive is definitely high. Sex is a very common occurrence within your relationship.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If the day had been tiring, yeah, you’re both pretty prone to falling asleep quickly. The two of you do enjoy just softly talking between you both whilst cuddling when you can, though.

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If you would like to be tagged in the up-coming fic related to this post, just let me know

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[goldenkirstein]

i'd be home with you

or alternatively, jean has a bad day at work, and you pamper him

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zuzu requested: Modern AU Jean/fem reader where Jean comes home after a really long day at work (his shift ends later than yours does so you always come in a few hours before him) He's in a rly pissy mood but you think it's adorable so you give him a nice tight hug and he relaxes a bit 😭 then you coax him towards the bedroom so you can pamper him, asking him to place his head on your lap so you can rub his temples until he falls asleep...

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 2.2k+

tags: fluff, some angst (?) modern! au, female reader, language, mentions of food.

a/n: this was so much fun to write, I love jean and always wanna take care of him bhsbhsbh, i changed up some things to make it fit, and it kinda got a teeeeensy but angsty but not too much. i hope you enjoy.

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You outstretched your arms, eyes glancing over to the clock in the corner of the living room.

Jean should be home soon.

The sound of the ticking clock filled the room as you laid back down on the couch, the side of your face pressed against the cool leather of the armrest, fingers lazily grazing over the pale white stitches, the bumps and ridges comforting you while you waited for your husband to come home.

Not too long after, you heard the familiar noise of the keys jingle against the doorknob, prompting you to shift your body to watch Jean as he walked through the front door; your lips quirked into a gentle smile, and you got up to greet him.

However, you noticed that he wasn’t his usual cheery self today. Weariness was clear as day on his face. He raised his eyebrows at you, the only indication that he acknowledged your presence.

He struggled to slip off his shoes until eventually sighing and reaching down to untie them, hair falling in front of his face, he cursed under his breath. You let out a giggle, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth, suppressing the noise.

“What are you laughing about?” He furrowed his brows, following your eyes until he realized you were staring at the socks peeping out of his shoes.

Tiny fried eggs decorated the navy socks he was wearing. He looked back up at you, an amused expression on your face, still trying to suppress your laughter.

His shoulders drooped, and he scowled at you, “knew I shouldn’t have worn these dumb socks today.”

You frowned and made your way over to him, “aww, baby, I wasn’t laughing at you, and hey, you love those socks! You look so cute with them on! ”

Jean turned his face away from you, “I’m not cute,” your frown deepened, and you brought your hand up to his face, causing him to look at you. Your wedding band was cool contrast against his cheek.

“Sure you are, my love. Did you not have a good day today?” At that, his eyes fluttered shut. He brought his hand up to remove yours; however, his hand lingered, resting on top of yours.

“Gonna take that as a no then.”

He nodded in agreement before opening his eyes and dropping his hand. You traced your fingers on his cheek until moving your arm around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. Jean wrapped his arms around your torso, relaxing into your touch. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his cologne, “missed you today, baby.”

You felt him release a deep breath, and you moved your hand to run your fingers through his hair. He hugged you tighter in response to your action, “missed you too.” His voice a low grumble.

Jean let go first, mumbling a quick thank you, and he gave you a slight smile, the first sign of happiness you could see on his face since he walked through the door minutes prior.

He began to bend down to finish taking off his shoes before you stopped him, “Nuh-uh, come with me.”

You gently tugged him up by elbow before clasping his hand in yours, leading the both of you into your bedroom. He opened his mouth in protest, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, hun? Someone requires some T.L.C.” Pronouncing every letter with a slight lilt in your voice, you turned your head to smile at your husband; his eyebrows were still furrowed, shoulders carrying the weight of the day on him. You knew that if you left Jean to his own devices, he would end up bottling his feelings and act like nothing was wrong.

Your feet padded gently into the room; Jean followed suit. He pulled at your hand to let him go, but you weren’t giving up that easy. He was a stubborn man, no doubt about it, but after years of being together, when it came to Jean, you were just as headstrong.

Smoothing your palm over the soft beige bedsheets, you sat down, tapping your clothed thigh, “come lay down; you’ll feel better if you do.” You watched the man in front of you clench his jaw, tired, hazel eyes gazing into yours.

“I haven’t even taken my shoes off yet.” He sighed; your only response was to tug him closer to your seated frame. Pouting your lips up at him, you watched him chew the inside of his cheek before finally obliging.

“See, that wasn’t so hard” You grinned as you saw Jean sit down next to you and lay his head in your lap, ash brown hair splaying across your thighs. He hummed in content when he felt you run your fingers through the hair near his temples. “You wanna talk about what happened?” Jean shook his head, furrowing his brows once again. You swiped your thumb over the creased skin, causing his expression to soften.

He blinked his eyes up at you, “you don’t have to do this; I’m fine.” He tried to get up, but you pressed your palm against his chest, eyes pleading. You tilted your head at him, gazing with tenderness before hunching over to lightly kiss his forehead.

“Let me take care of you, Jeanie? Please?”

He laid back down, allowing you to rub his temples, taking away the pain of the day. It was the least you could do; on days where you felt unloveable, Jean would be there for you, holding you, whispering reassurances in your ear, delicately reminding you of his love and lending his strength to you when you needed it. So, while it pained your heart to watch Jean feel less than, it was second nature to you; you would always be there for him when he needs it.

The repetitive movements of the pads of your fingers against his head were soothing him, Jean’s eyelids were heavy, the time he spent with his eyes shut getting longer and longer with each passing minute.

“Haven’t taken my socks off.” He whispered, sleep overtaking him; his speech was slightly slurred.

“Don’t worry, you just sleep.” You continued massaging his head until his breathing steadied, eyes no longer opening. You smiled at the sight; he looked so peaceful and beautiful when he slept. Pausing your movements, you bent down and gave him another kiss on his forehead, smoothing the hair on his head.

You lifted him off your lap, sliding out from underneath him, and softly placed his head down on a pillow, careful not to disturb him. He shifted, turning to face the window next to the bed. The sun was beginning to set, and the slivers of orange light peeking through the curtains dusted over Jean’s face.

“My beautiful boy.” Warmth spread over your chest as you watched your husband rest, content that at this moment, his worries were not plaguing him.

You slid off his shoes, chuckling at the sight of socks once more. Jean had called the socks dumb, but you knew that he loved them. When you got them for him for his birthday, you remembered how he laughed when he unwrapped the package; the sound rang through the air, causing you to giggle at his reaction, before he reached over to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, murmuring a soft thank you through a wide-toothed smile.

After pulling off his socks, you quietly got him out of his dress shirt and pants and slipped a pair of sweatpants over his legs before drawing the comforter over his body and placing a kiss on his shoulder.

--

Jean awoke to the smell of spices wafting in from the kitchen; he rubbed his eyes. It was dark outside. He wondered how he got into bed; the last thing he remembered was him laying in your lap.

Oh.

The young man felt a wave of guilt wash over his body. He realized that he was wearing sweatpants, his office attire neatly hanging in the closet adjacent to him. Jean groaned and pulled the covers off his body; had he been sleeping all this time? You were working away in the kitchen, you even took off his shoes, and here he was, lazing away like a dog.

It was pathetic, he thought, making you take care of him just because he had a bad day at work. Jean stepped out of the bedroom; stretching out his limbs, he made his way over to the kitchen, the smell of food getting more robust with each step.

You turned when you heard the soft padding of his feet against the kitchen tile, “you’re awake! Did you sleep well?” You beamed at him before turning your attention back to the stovetop.

He padded over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “you seriously don’t have to do this; I’m alright.” His voice husky, vibrating against your back.

You shifted your body to look at him, quizzical expression painting your face, “why won’t you let me pamper you? Don’t you deserve that?”

Jean was silent.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me, Jean.” Your hand left the handle of the pan and held onto the hands around your middle. “Let me carry some of that burden. Let me.”

“It’s not fair.” Jean’s eyes between yours and the food on the stove.

“What’s not fair, baby? You take care of me when I’m sick when I can barely get out of bed. Isn’t that the vow we made to each other?” You paused, watching as Jean’s head fell into the crook of your neck. “I won’t love you any less, and I certainly will not let you act like everything is fine when it’s not. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just allow me to look after you.”

“You tell me how much you love me every day, so let me show you how much I love you through this, okay?”

Jean wondered what stars aligned for him to find someone like you. He still felt guilty, but he knew that arguing would be futile, so he finally succumbed, “I love you.”

His mouth curled up into a slight smile; he meant it every time he said it, even when the both of you had been arguing or when you left for work, he meant it every single time.

You didn’t think it was possible, but your heart grew in fondness for Jean, “I know.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before returning yours to the handle.

Jean’s stomach grumbled, causing him to groan. You let out a laugh, “See, I knew you hadn’t eaten at work. Go sit; I’ll finish up this Omurice.”

He slipped his arms away from your waist before going to sit on the stool near the kitchen island, head resting on his propped-up palm, watching as you plate up the food.

His eyes twinkled with adoration, the guilt in his chest dissipating as he noticed how much care you’re putting into the meal. There was a time that Jean didn’t think he was worthy of being loved, but having you in his life pieced him back together again.

You made your way over to him, handing him a fork and setting down the plate. Your husband took it from your hands, giving you a questioning look, before taking a bite. His eyes widened, “this is really fucking good, here try some.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, glad that he liked the food; Jean brought the fork to your lips, which you opened, the warm rice and luscious egg filled your mouth, you shut your eyes, savouring the taste, "holy shit."

Jean laughed at your surprise, taking another bite of the food. You went over to a drawer to grab a fork before sitting next to him to eat.

When both of you finished your meal, you stood up to grab the plate to clean it. However, Jean halted you before you could pick it up, "let me."

His voice came out a gentle whisper, but it was sincere; you nodded your head, relaxing back in your seat, watching as the man went around the kitchen island to clean the utensils.

He worked swiftly in silence. After drying the plate and placing it in the cupboard, Jean looked up at you, "thank you for this."

"You don't have to thank me, my love."

He blushed at your words, "still, I'm so lucky to have you; I don't know if I tell you that enough."

You stood up and made your way over to Jean, his hands rested on your hips, and you moved your fingers to brush away the few strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. He smiled tenderly at you before pulling you closer to him by your hips.

He pressed his lips against yours, and you reciprocated the kiss, soft lips melding against each other. His hands travelled up your sides, eventually cupping your face. You smiled against his lips before pulling away.

"I'll love you always, Jean." Your hands came up to hold his, and you turned your cheek to press a kiss into his palm.

"I know."

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! any feedback is appreciated !! i'm really not sure what is going on with tagging, but if anyone knows how to fix the issue of certain people not being able to get tagged that would be super helpful !!

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @clean-soap

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