Surprisingly I do have darlings to kill this year. Most of them are half-cooked PWP premises so I'm not bothering dropping those here because what if I bang them out (hehe.) in like 3 weeks??? I've been locking in on trying to finish longstanding projects (the list of people I owe fics to gets longer year over year....) so I am clinging onto those for dear life for now.
working title: reflector
ship: wonwoo/seungcheol; wonwoo day
premise: seungcheol can travel through mirrors, and has discovered a world within that's eerily similar to theirs. wonwoo is his roommate and best friend who has been in love with him for years. (convoluted! but it was a WIP okay!!!)
Jeongcheol are exes, Wonwoo's tired of Jeonghan's presence though he technically hasn't done anything wrong, and boba eyes puppy face just can't get over him.
----
mirror, mirror
i. Time is a function of lies, a trick of the light, a mistranslation.
--
From what Wonwoo understands of the mirrorverse, it's that everything inside of it is the inverse of what they know and understand. The worlds, universes, even—though Seungcheol often calls them 'planes,' which doesn't feel as all-encompassing as what he gleans it to be—were theorized to be in moral opposition. There's science fiction that poses the hypothesis of the other version of yourself—the reflector, the one you see in the mirror—being 'evil' or having an exacerbation of all of your worst qualities. He shudders to think what reflector Wonwoo's life looks like, and what he carries that's exacerbated in this universe. Little versions of yourself segmenting off like broken glass. Each decision, another shatter. Propagations of a life that could've, would've, should've been lived.
The first time that Seungcheol transports through a mirror, all Wonwoo sees is light. Like forgetting your sunglasses at the office with the sun at your back while driving home, or the flash of a camera on yearbook picture day, half-blink, grimacing and powder-pale.
He doesn't explain what it is he's seen. Leaving it alone is easy enough, until Seungcheol ropes him into it. Isn't that just the way?
He's crashing into Wonwoo's bedroom at a godforsaken hour.
“Don't be mad,” Seungcheol pleads. "But I have to tell you something."
Light travels wherever Seungcheol goes. It’s just a fact. Even in this darkness, the little slits that leak through the windows refract off his skin as he shimmers back into view. Into this plane of existence.
Wonwoo squints in his direction. His form slowly molds into something humanoid, then solid next to his bed. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
“Why would I be mad?”
“Wonwoo-yah,” Seungcheol moans. Hands rest on his shoulder and shake him side to side. He tries—and fails—to wrestle the curled in ends from his fingers. Instead of giving up, he forces himself onto the small ledge of space between Wonwoo and the lip of the mattress. Always the little spoon, no matter what.
“Just promise.”
That can't be good. The arm he loops around Seungcheol’s waist is bookended with a fist to the stomach. A retaliatory elbow hits Wonwoo in the ribs.
“Ow!”
“Move over.”
Reluctantly, Wonwoo moves, and takes in a deep breath of cologne that is definitely not Seungcheol’s own. It sticks to his skin, his hair, under a thin layer of sweat. Oh. Good.
“How long have you been in here?” Wonwoo asks, peeling open his eyes. May as well brace himself for this conversation. Forty-five minutes of sleep is plenty.
“Long enough.” Seungcheol twists around in his hold. “You know, your jerk-off technique could use a little—”
A pillow to the face doesn't silence him.
“Shut up,” Wonwoo groans, reaching around for his glasses.
Seungcheol’s laugh, a loud hak-hak-hak, fills the air. Small comfort, for now. Wonwoo blinks at him as he solidifies into an actual shape, face, person.
“You saw him again.” Seungcheol going quiet is answer enough. "Hyung."
Going through it once was more than enough, but Seungcheol has always been a masochist. The worst part is that Wonwoo can't find it in him to be angry.
"We talked about it," Seungcheol says, as if anything he says doesn't make him sound desperate and ridiculous.
"They're not the same person."
Wonwoo's said it a million times, and the way Seungcheol responds has been the for a million and one.
"It's closure."
"You've been going to see him every week for the last three months," Wonwoo points out, which draws Seungcheol's shoulders to his ears. He presses his face to Wonwoo's chest, breath warming through the cotton. His hands are resting limply at his sides, though Wonwoo can feel him fist the sheet under them.
should've never thought
ship: jeonghan/mingyu/dk
premise: eclipse tent scene. jeonghan edward. dk bella. mingyu jacob. yes, I did see this in the DK fest prompt archive but I had already started this before that. did you know that i got into twilight right before new moon released and for my 13th birthday, my then-best friend burned all of stephenie meyer's music recs onto a CD for me? also stephenie meyer was only an MCR
fan, and edward was not inspired by gerard way nor was twilight MCR fic. he was, however, maybe at most a facecast idea for edward. and she was right to say it because 13 year old me wanted that man so bad and so does 32 year old me.
I still might write this (but with a different triangulation) (you can probably guess who) (maybe not!) but there are things that I wanted to change, like putting them in an abandoned cabin owned by the Cullen family stand-in, making the James/Laurent/Victoria relationship a polycule (Vernon Victoria felt sooooo bigbrained when I was excited about this.) rather than coven loyalty...giving Mingyu a knot.... (thank you
scissorghost, you changed me as a person... I did reread this fic and WHEW!!!!!!) and so on. I haven't written Seokgyuhan yet, actually, so like. Who knows. lol.
It's not very long but I do really like it. Yeehaw.
supermassiveblackhole
“Keep your thoughts to yourself.”
Keeping an even tone takes more self-restraint than Jeonghan would care to reveal. The cabin they're staying in leaves much to be desired, but it's enough out of the way that Seokmin's scent could be lost out here. Could, but it's assaulting Jeonghan's sensibilities. His ridiculous proportions are already more than insulting.
“What am I thinking, Yoon Jeonghan-ssi?” Mingyu leers from his spot on the floor, arms still wrapped around Seokmin where Jeonghan can’t see. His long arm is draped over Seokmin's shoulder, and Jeonghan flinches at the response Mingyu sends in his head. One loud whooping sound meant to startle him, which makes Jeonghan’s lips curl back to bare his teeth.
“You know I can’t turn it off, right?” he hisses, trying and failing to keep his left eye from twitching. “If he didn’t need you—”
A graphic flash of Mingyu between Seokmin's legs floods Jeonghan’s mind. Aggressively large palm pressing muscled thighs back, Mingyu is pointedly overenthusiastic in this fantasy. Jealousy washes over, and it takes everything inside of him to not spring. To tear the dog limb from limb. He can't give it to you like I can, right? Mingyu's taunting echoes like the wind.
Jeonghan grits his teeth.
“No.” His gaze drops to Seokmin. “I can't. We’ve never.”
“Won’t, or can't?”
Maybe if Jeonghan turns Seokmin tonight, he won't be too mad about him ripping the pup limb from limb. “I'm not going to explain my biology to you.”
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