#I REALLY need to get a solid story for this au

[starrclown]

Will I ever get a solid story for this au? Maybe. I’ll get them one day. Now it’s just fun to doodle.

[somnas-writes]

Okay sorry if this is weird lol but in your "the bodyguards should have been friends" post you mentioned a fix-it fic and I am very intrigued- Is there anything about it you want to talk about?

Yeah!! I have a lot I want to write about (even though I haven’t finished the show, I’m already brain rotted)

The Theerapanyakun boys dynamic is one thing I plan to change/mess around with.

They would be genuinely unstoppable if they teamed up, but their dads (derogatory) are hellbent on keeping them isolated and in survival mode

They are all incredibly emotionally unavailable as well (they got HELLA trauma)

There’s five of them and I think each combination would have really different interactions/bonds

Khun, Kinn, and Kim are pit again Vegas and Macau their entire lives (major vs minor family feud, Korn and Gun being SHIT DADS)

They’re hostile because that’s what they were taught.

My plan/outline has them going through really big emotional break throughs (they get put in Situations and are forced to Confront their issues)

And as a result they band together

I also just want them to have good family relationships cause they deserve it

They bodyguards get to be Friends

I get that they had certain relationships and dynamics because it helped drive the plot

But holy hell imagine how uncomfortable that workplace setting was

Like big and Ken specifically hated Porsche. He hates them too, but it was an incredibly unhelpful thing

They all had their own duos (arm-pol, big-ken, Porsche-Pete), but as a group they could’ve had an great dynamic

Especially since they work for the same guys!! They get how crazy the work they do is, and they all know how these guys behave

They don’t even have to be besties (they aren’t for most of my rewrite) but for the sake of working smoothly they need to at least be casual and comfortable

I’m making Big work through his little crush on Kinn too

he and Porsche get to discuss what it’s like pursuing Kinn. it is something they should talk about, Kinn is a shared aspect of their life and having that grudge of “my crush chose him, not me.” Is just soooo petty and not healthy

Also Ken isn’t the traitor because I like him, he’s funky

Porsche and Chay are Good Siblings

I hate how they kept each other in the dark about huge things in their life

I understand (both as a younger sibling and as an older sibling) wanting to protect your family and not see them hurt. But it’s part of life!! Stuff hurts and it happens

They have a pretty special dynamic, with Porsche basically raising Chay

I wish we could’ve seen them being close siblings more in the series, I love the little montages we got of them together

But I think it’s missing that key part of them being unabashedly Honest and Real

Especially since Porsche choosing to become a bodyguard impacted a lot of Chays life. The one constant and stable figure of his life disappeared overnight and he had no way of contacting him

Porchay was alone during one of the most vital times of his adolescence. Porsche was isolated during a big change in his

In the rewrite, I want them to be more open about what they’re experiencing

They’re also just more ‘sibling like’, they go to annoy each other for fun, they work together against people because they’re a team.

One specific scenario I’ve been thinking about is Chay seeking out his brother to just be with him. (The scenario I’ve been envisioning is Chay walking into Kinn and Porsches room just to stare at him, dance Gangnam Style, turn off the lights and leave. I want Kinn to be absolutely baffled and Porsche to be Just So Done)

They’re siblings!!! It’s so fun to bother your siblings

Korn and Gun DIE

Im the second biggest Korn-Anti (Kim is first)

They’re Bad Parents and Shit People

They tear people apart just for their benefit and I’m Over It

I want these mfs DEAD AND BURIED

Kim deserves to stand at his dads grave, talk shit and walk away

I want their kids to heal!!! They deserve to be happy, even if 3/5 of them are Gigantic Meanies

And some silly little details for fun!!

Porchay is a Kpop stan, I’m a Kpop stan so I’m projecting (he makes Porsche watch music videos with him and they learned a dance together once)

Porsche (pre-mafia) was involved in a variety of activities (street racing, dance battles, catering, modeled once or twice)

Porsche can do street dancing, learned when he was like 11 and it became his go to dance style

Porsche and Chay have matching tasers (Kuromi and My Melody respectively)

They bond over sad music (Olivia Rodrigo, Lana Del Ray, Taylor Swift and Mitski)

Chay likes Sanrio

Chay gets his own ‘stage name’ (its Serpent, he wanted a cool sounding one like Phoenix)

Macau shows up more, no particular reason I just miss him

Jom and Tem show up more towards the beginning (they’re Porsches ride or dies)

Big also speaks English (while Ken is Aussie, he’s got a bit of a English accent)

Kinn really likes snoopy (he has a snoopy blanket from Khun that he hides)

Khun makes the bodyguards (main 6) dress up as the sailor scouts at some point. They all fight over who gets to be Sailor Moon (Ken won and actually ate it up)

A lot more name calling and cursing, I’m talking fun ones!! Porsche calls Ken and big lots of names when they’re rivals. (‘Mean girls’, ‘Dick riders’, at one point ‘Jack and Jill’)

Kim is into lots of alt-rock, pop-punk, and alt-indie American bands

his music as WIK is nothing like any of that. It’s just Jeff saturs discography (in my mind I’m mixing in other solo artists, mainly eric nam and RM) [i have a lot of brain rot regarding music]

Kinn is a LOSER (/pos, affectionate) he deserves it

The bodyguards get drunk together and make a tier list on which Theerapanyakun boy is the most likely to get canceled and why (ignoring mafia activities) [i might make this a post later lmao]

While they’re getting drunk Porsche falls and eats shit, big loses it and cries from laughing (that’s their little break through moment in their friendship)

[zoueriemandzijnopmars]

It’s rereading my own unfinished fic o’clock and damn I still enjoy these where’s the rest?

[jaewritesfic]

Melon!AU

Actual writing now, based on this post:

“What,” Tim breathes out faintly, “the fuck is that?”

Language, Bruce thinks faintly, though he doesn't manage to get it past his lips.

He is a man who prides himself on being ready for anything, but he most certainly didn't expect something like this when responding to the Batsignal tonight.

“That is a Pit Demon,” Damian's voice asserts through comms, grave in a way that betrays his collected mask. He's unnerved. “There is nothing else that could be.”

Bruce is unnerved too, though he refuses to show it.

Gordon had half the block cordoned off so no civilians would come through by the time Bruce and Tim - the closest at the time - had arrived on scene. The alley itself is blocked in by police cruisers, though the officers are staying very firmly behind the line and not approaching.

It's no wonder why.

The…thing backed into a dead end alley looks like it's made of smoke and shadow, all long sinuous lines and dangerous angles.

It's vaguely Humanoid in the sense that it has a long torso, arms and a head. The arms are too long, the fingers curved and wickedly sharp. The face is a well of deep shadow, a smooth slate broken only when it opens its jagged mouth to show off a full arsenal of fangs.

The only other facial features are the solid, glowing Lazarus green eyes. Wide and lamp-like, they give the distinct feeling that the creature's sights will not miss anything.

There are no legs. Just the sinuous curves and overlaps of a long smokey tail. It whips about with agitation.

Floating like mist on the water is a head of white hair, edges fuzzy and undefined like it can't decide whether it's a solid or a gas.

The creature lays with its chest nearly flat to the ground, propped up only by those horrifically sharp hands and poised like a predator ready to push off into a sprint.

Glowing Lazarus water seems to pool slowly beneath it, streaked here and there as evidence of past movement.

Bruce finally finds his tongue to question Damian. He can see his youngest standing on the opposite roof of he and Tim, the two buildings that form the alley their perch.

“You've seen something like this before?”

Damian hesitates. “...no. But there are stories of things coming out of the Pits. I doubt I need to explain why this seems to be one of them.”

With that color green shining out of its face and streaked across the alley? No. No, he doesn't.

“Do your stories have any clues on what to do when one shows up?” Tim asks, unable to tear his eyes away from the creature.

Damian scoffs. “Close your eyes and hope your end is quick.”

“Lovely,” Tim bites out, voice a little higher pitched than normal.

“We won't be doing that,” Bruce responds dryly, two taps coming through the comms notifying them of Black Bat's arrival.

Bruce looks up and has to search for her for a few seconds before he can make her out in the shadows of Damian's rooftop.

“I'm still five minutes out,” Dick comms in. “What exactly are we looking at here? Can Oracle give a visual with any cams?”

“I wish,” Oracle chimes in. “Even through the mask footage I have no idea what they're seeing. The feed is corrupted to hell and back whenever it's in frame.”

“Really? In person it looks like-”

Tim is cut off when the officers below make some kind of movement the monster clearly takes issue with, the snarl that almost physically ricochets off the brick walls making everyone wince.

It's like TV static and the crackle of lightning striking a tree, like glaciers cracking and shifting underwater all rolled into one.

The hair on the back of Bruce's neck stands on end.

“Fuck. It's like a living shadow, but all sharp and wrong and angry-”

“No,” Cass cuts in quietly, silencing everyone.

“...Black Bat?” Bruce questions lowly.

“Not angry,” she responds, as sure as ever when assessing a target - no matter what kind of target.

“Scared, hurt. Guarding chest, trying to hide it. Wants to scare us away, but making no move to attack. Posturing.”

The thing about Cass is that they trust her reads implicitly - her reads of people.

She wouldn't speak up if she wasn't certain, and she wouldn't be certain if she didn't see something painfully human in the creature below.

“...what do you suggest?” Bruce asks after a moment of tense silence, trying to reassess the creature and see what she sees.

He at the very least wants her opinion, so they can weigh it in formulating a plan here.

Cass keeps looking for a long moment, before she looks across the gap at him. “Needs help. Reach out - at least try.”

Masterpost

[peachesofteal]

sighs Price/Simon/mama (female reader) 18+ mdni - threesome M/M/F, spit, daddy, praise, size, lactation, breeding kink. The softest dub con. This is an AU to the original story, Through Me. Price has a wife in Through Me and Simon has mama, neither of them would ever share.

It starts with a dinner.

Red wine decanted. Red meat rare, bleeding all over a plate. Price sits across from Simon at the table, with you at the head. Fixed between them like a flower sprouted in rock.

They're here because Simon has seen the way he watches. He's noticed how his captain considers both himself and you, the way he cocks his head to left and trails his eyes up and down your body.

It's reminiscent of days old. Nights passed when he and John bent pretty things to their will, split open and overwhelmed, gasping and clawing as they systematically broke them apart.

A wild ride. A way to blow off some steam. A thing never meant to be more than what it was. Secret nights in the dark.

There was a wild gleam in John's eyes, weeks ago. Simon only caught the fractured glimpse of it, there one second, gone in the next, but when they locked eyes afterwards, he knew.

They both did.

He wouldn't be doing this unless he trusted his captain implicitly. Trusted him to care for you, to give you what's needed, to see it all the way through. There's something digging around in Simon's brain about it, some imagery he can't escape.

The best way out is through.

They end up in the living room, after dinner. There's still half a bottle of wine left, and when he pulls you in for a kiss it's there on his tongue, purpled fruit and acid, alcohol loosening the tension in your neck, your spine.

Simon sits on the couch next to John. Not yet touching, but if both were shift their legs, they'd be there, knee to knee. "C'mere mama." Simon spreads wide, patting the inside of his thigh, indicating where you're to sit, and when you settle on his lap, half turned to face his captain, he rests a hand on his thigh. "Did you enjoy dinner, sweet girl?"

"It was very good." You peek at John through your lashes, demure, shy. "Thank you for cooking."

"Was my pleasure." He smiles, blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and you return it as Simon rubs circles on your waist. He can feel the fabric of your thong beneath the dress you chose tonight, thin, narrow fabric stretched over your cunt, nearly non-existent barrier separating you from the craven.

It's important you're not so worked up, too early. He needs to keep you torpid, wine drenched and saccharine, before working you up to a frenetic pace, so he moves his hand to your back, stroking up and down slowly, using an aimless conversation about work as a distraction. "Think Laswell's gonna be out for this next one?"

"Don't know. Suppose so. We'll need her. Can't get over half the hurdles without her support." His legs spread, marginally. enough that his knee is touching your feet, your toes, and you glance down. Simon observes your thought process in real time; intrigue, confusion clearing before it ever really takes root. You brush it off.

But he sees the opportunity, target hot to strike.

He moves his hand under the hem of your dress, up your thigh. You tense, blinking at him in confusion, and he brushes his lips against your ear. "Relax, honey." He finds heat between your legs, circling over your panties, and you squeak, locking onto his wrist.

"Si-"

"John was so nice to have us over for dinner, wasn't he?" You nod, shakily, as Simon peppers your cheek, your jaw with kisses. "Fed us so well. Don't y'think we should say thank you?" His cock is solid beneath your ass, and he flexes his hips, driving the point home, still stroking over your panties. John is locked in, watching the flutter of your dress, staring beneath your knees.

"Um, I," he presses directly on your clit, stealing your words, whatever you meant to say dying on a whine. Your lips part beneath him, already slick, already wanting.

"Put your heels on John's thighs, mama." You stare at him, eyes wide, and he gives you an encouraging nod. "Don't worry. We'll take care of you." The angle provided when you lift your feet tilts you, and John turns.

"Gonna touch you, love," he carefully palms your knees, "right here," turning so that you're now facing him head on, toes flexing on both of his thighs. Simon peels your dress back, shucking it up around your belly, and then parts your legs. His captain huffs a short groan.

"Jus' want John to be able see, is all." He hooks a finger into the cotton, and pulls to the side, exposing your weeping pussy to both of them, glistening in the evening light. "Look at you, sweet girl. All wet and ready for us?" You whimper, staring at John between your knees, no doubt shocked. Scandalized. "Isn't she pretty?" He nods.

"Very." He reaches, and you flinch when his fingers trace down your slit, but Simon holds your hips still. "Need some attention, eh? Little thing, already swollen." He flits back up to your bud, pressing next to where Simon has a thumb on you, and they work in circles, both swirling, your hips jerking with each cycle.

John pulls away, it's a slow game, this one. One they've played before, and he stays focused between your legs, letting Simon lead you, submerge you in the experience, plunge you into it. He applies more pressure, enjoying your gasps, the way you grip his shoulder.

He's almost there, almost got you, and then-

"Daddy-" John smiles. So does Simon. He pushes a finger in your hole, searching for that spot, the soft one that makes you scream, heel of his palm firm against your clit. "Ah, fuck, p-please-"

"You're so wet, mama. Soakin' my hand. Do you need to cum? Want to show the captain the way your pussy flutters?" You moan, head tipped back, pulse throbbing in your neck. You tighten around his finger, and he draws back to slide in two, carefully stretching, sawing you wide. Your knees try to close, probably on instinct, but John pushes them open again. When you hold them there, he murmurs low.

"Good girl. Keep em open for me. Want to watch your hole, see how it's going to take my cock." A shudder rocks you, muscles in your lower belly tensing, and your spine curls forward, fingers knotted in the collar of Simon's shirt.

"There it is, good, mama, that's so good. c'mon-" You squeeze, and squeeze him, and then explode, crying out, legs shaking, chasing the pressure, carnal lust glittering in your eyes.

Simon doesn't give you a reprieve. Your sopping cunt cries on his hand as he pulls free, and they both move, John's cock coming free from his pants, thick, tip red and leaking, and he slaps it against your clit. You're still dazed from the orgasm, gripping onto Simon, and he pulls you against his chest, hands behind your knees, folding you open. Your pussy flowers for Johnny, blooming for them both. Simon's so hard he aches, and he manages to shuck his pants down, cock hard against your back.

It occurs to him, John might want to have a taste of you. Drink from you, enjoy how sweet you are. "Let's get this off." He curls you forward, and tugs at your dress, deliciously pleased when you help the effort, arms twisting behind your back to try to free your heavy tits. He shifts you so you're more on his thigh, cock straining against your hip. He groans when he brushes your nipples, dots of liquid beading, slick honey spilling over the curve of your breasts. He squeezes them, making eye contact with John, who licks his lips.

John dips his head, you jerk back into Simon. "Easy," he coos, hand firm on your belly, "John's gonna have a taste. Don't want this all to go to waste, d'you? Don't wanna be selfish sweet girl." His captain's mustache brushes against the sensitive skin, mouth closing around your nipple and sucking, a sensation you seem to enjoy, because you tip your head back on Simon's shoulder and groan.

"Oh, oh. God." John's jaw connects with Simon's fingers, where he's still helping squeeze you into his mouth, and he reaches between your legs, feeling for the weight of his captain's cock, giving him a firm squeeze before lining him up with your entrance. He pulls off your breast with a satisfying pop, mustache wet, chin glistening.

He pushes, slowly, and your muscles go solid, legs instinctively shifting. John grips the back of your thigh, burrowing into the fat there, still forcing his way inside you. They're both so much bigger than you, wider than your pussy allows, longer than you should be able to stretch. "Relax, love." He coaches, pulling out to only batter his way back in, and Simon's hand roams between your legs, feeling the curve of your hole struggling to take his captain, stroking up his length to feel how much is left. You're panting, squirming, and John laughs, echo of a chuckle pulling a smile from Simon.

"J-John." You gasp, cunt stretched tight, and when his pelvis meets your ass, the tears spill over your cheeks. "It's t-too much, you're-"

"Fuckin' hell." He snarls, snapping in and out, bending at the waist to close his mouth over your nipple, big hands cradling your thighs. It's nasty, foul, the slick slap of his balls swinging into you, the wet sound filling the air over your wild moans. Simon plays with your clit, sloshing over and over it, holding you steady as you writhe. Your second orgasm approaches like a freight train, so fast, so violent, and Simon urges you on.

"Cum on my captain's cock, honey. Yeah, that's it- let him feel it." Your toes curl and you explode, squeezing so tight John has to seal his hips to you to keep himself inside.

"Christ." He curses, and Simon smoothes a hand over your forehead.

"Such a good girl, huh? Never felt anything better." He coos, kissing your temple, John grunting out an agreement of sorts, grinding in a circle before pulling long and spearing you open again, bucking into your cunt like a wild animal. Your tits bounce with him, eyes closed and pretty mouth parted, Simon licking inside, dribbling spit onto your tongue that you swallow, again and again, until John's pace becomes frantic, and he bites out a demand.

"Ask your daddy if I can give you my cum, love." You're delirious, overwhelmed and greedy now, pliant with two orgasms and promises of more.

"Daddy, daddy, p-please, can he... can he?" You manage the bumpy plea between bounces.

"Y'want him to pump you full of cum, mama? Want him to give it to you?"

"Y-yeah, yeah. Give it to me." John's jaw is gnashed so tight, Simon can see the muscle flexing, and he slams into you, shoving you further into his arms.

"Here it comes, fuck-." He snarls, and then he shoves forward once more, head tipped back, gladiator in his glory, battle won.

He pulls away, cock slipping free, covered in you, curly hair at the root soaked, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Simon tucks his fingers inside, feeling the mess of his captain's load, scooping some out and bringing it to your lips. "Suck, honey. Lick 'em clean f'me." You do, wrapping your tongue around them, swallowing hungrily with half lidded eyes.

"Sit rep?" John grunts.

"Y'okay mama?" He palms your belly.

"Mhmm." You're suspended in a dream, voracious appetite soothed.

"Need you to take more, sweet girl. Can you do that?" He will honor it, if you say no. Clean you up and get you home, tucked into bed-

but you nod, blinking, and John smacks your ass. "Up, then." He pulls you onto all fours, massive hands pulling your cheeks up and apart, exposing your tight little furl to both of them. Simon glances over, and John sucks into the pocket of his cheek. He follows suit, and-

they spit onto your asshole, shiny, iridescent globs coating it, soaking it, slipping down to where you're leaking strings of John's cum. He thumbs your ring, pushing, testing, slowly sinking inside as you twitch and try to push him out. "Gonna take this one day." It's a promise for another time, and you turn over your shoulder, eyes wide. "Gonna stretch your little asshole out with my cock, mama."

"Simon-" Your voice borders on cautionary.

"Not tonight." John stands, sinking to his knees on the opposite of the couch, half hard cock starting to fill as it looms in front of your face, and Simon lines himself up from behind, impaling you on his cock in one swift thrust, jerking your hips back to meet his.

You scream. Mouth open wide, and at the same time, John shoves forward, cock finding purchase in your mouth, hands cradling your jaw. "Easy, pretty girl." He strokes your cheek, natural rhythm of Simon fucking you deep forcing you on and off John's length, soft turning quickly to hard, stretching back towards your throat.

"Fuck, mama. Feel so fuckin' good. So wet, full of cum already." You're still so tight, so warm, soaking him to the bone. Your pussy squelches around him, and you jerk back to meet him, hips rolling as much as you can stand it, sharp moans vibrating from the back of your tongue. "Not gonna last." He warns.

"Me either," John's biceps are strained, corded muscle looping all the way to his wrists. "Mouth's so good on 'er. Gonna fill you up from both ends tonight, love." You're crying now, Simon can hear the change in your tone, the way your voice breaks, and it only makes him fuck you harder, desperate, primal urges roaring to life in the back of his mind.

"Gonna put it deep, mama. Give y'another baby." You clench. "You like that? Want daddy to fuck another baby into you?" You make some sort of sound, unintelligible, but it doesn't matter. "We won't know who's it is. Could end up with John's baby, yeah? Get nice and fat with him inside you. Belong to both of us." he groans it, thrusting and thrusting until he's slamming into you and so is John, both men sweating, grunting, gripping onto you like their lives depend on it.

It doesn't take much more than that before Simon is curling over your back, chest pressed against you, arm snaked between your legs. He pulls you into another orgasm with him, your thighs clamped around his arm, and John holds you up by the shoulders, spilling down your throat as Simon floods your womb.

The silence that follows is old hat, but new with you. John disappears to grab water, warm, wet wash cloths, and Simon rocks you on the couch, holding you tight, kissing every spare inch of your skin. "Did so good for me, mama." You sigh, cozying closer, and when John kneads your thigh, you spread them, allowing him to wipe between your legs, clean you as best he can, before settling on the other side.

They stay like that, for a while. In the quiet, the sound of your breathing, before Simon manages to get your dress over your head and to the door.

There's no goodbye.

There never is.

[e-vay]

SONIC’S MOM (in my AU)

I’ve spent a really long time working on Sonic’s mom for my AU but I’m finally ready to share her with you!

I wrote this out in text form below the cut for those of you who need to translate it:

Domino was a free-spirited, independent hedgehog. Despite being dealt some rough cards in life, she always had an upbeat attitude and could find the silver lining to almost any situation. Domino had to get by with just the clothes on her back, so she quickly learned to be very resourceful. She was adamantly against material things, except for her one gold earring that she treasured. Her lack of funds led to a nomadic lifestyle, but this gave her a greater appreciation for the planet and she ended up loving her minimalist way of life.

A one-time tryst led to Domino being pregnant with Sonic at a relatively young age. Though she knew nothing about being a mom, she loved him instantly. She couldn’t offer him much, so she did her best to teach him how to make the most out of what little they had and to appreciate all the wonderful things the planet has to offer. Sonic was able to crawl, walk and soon run faster than most babies, so he was very quick to fend for himself. This made Domino’s life easier and more challenging at the same time!

PHLOX: Sonic’s biological father. He and Domino met while they were both passing through the same village and had instant chemistry. She wasn’t one to stay in one place for long, so she took off after one night together. He never knew about Sonic.

Being a young, single mom is tough enough. When your baby has the ability to run at super speeds, it gets even more complicated. Domino was constantly repairing Sonic’s baby shoes when he repeatedly wore the rubber off, but eventually even her trusty roll of duct tape wasn’t enough to cut it. She ended up giving up her solid gold earring to buy him a pair of durable shoes that could withstand his speed.

Domino had a bad habit of telling tall tales. She didn’t do this to be malicious; she just liked to make her life sound more interesting than it was. This tended to get her into trouble, but made for excellent bedtime stories!

One unfortunate night, a terrible storm rolled in and caused a flash flood in the forest where Domino and Sonic were occupying. Domino knew Sonic would be able to outrun it, so she urged him to get away and leave her behind. Domino did not survive.

This traumatic event had a huge impact on toddler Sonic and is not only the reason he’s afraid of water, but why he stopped talking for several years when he was little. With time, he forgets this event and even forgets Domino, and he finds his voice again.

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range, tbh nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 6.3k hehe (approx. 25 mins to read)

Posting date: October 9, 2024

Notes: So it’s my birthday, y'all. 🎂 Hope you enjoy this little treat! 🎈And let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters. Just leave a comment. Formatting this better soon, really just wanted to get this out!

Your first meeting with Min Yoongi goes exactly as you expected: awkward as hell.

The day kicked off with some solid foreshadowing. 

On the subway, you somehow managed to sit directly on someone’s hand, giving yourself a completely unsolicited grope for breakfast. Awkward. 

Then you hit your usual café, chatting with your mom on the phone while waiting for your drink. Just as the barista handed over your order, you wrapped up the call with a bright and cheery “love you!”—only to realize too late that the barista thought it was meant for him. Awkward.

Things only got weirder from there. As you checked your emails on your phone, you walked straight into a pole, and you made eye contact with a cat who just looked at you, tail swaying, like it was somehow pleased with your suffering.

So naturally, you hoped that your first day with Min Yoongi wouldn’t follow the same cursed trend. But, of course, you weren’t that lucky.

You can feel the office buzzing with excitement as you step in, but you’ve all been told to keep it low-key. Nobody is allowed to make a big deal about him, but in some ways, that just makes it an even bigger deal. You’ve refrained from searching his name on Naver. It’s enough that you know him as 1/7 of South Korea’s biggest boyband. You don’t need to stalk him because that’s just gonna make this weird.

Speaking of weird, the female security guard gives you a wink as you clock in, and you return with a simple nod back, because honestly you’re tired of being treated like you wanted this. Like you asked for this “opportunity”. Some of the girls have called you the "blessed one" to have been chosen to work alongside him in your small, shoebox office. Truthfully, you don’t really care as long as he gets the job done.

But you're feeling scared for many reasons you can’t quite express, the pressure mostly coming from the fact that every fucking person in this office is so motherfuckin’ wet for this dude. Is he even that hot? Nobody is that hot for real. Unless it’s Cha Eun Woo (you just picked up the new Vogue issue and ooof)–now that is a different story.

Your throat is dry as hell, and your stomach is in knots. There’s no time to freak out though as you just received a ping that he’s on his way. 

You clear your throat, adjust your stance, and try to appear composed and professional, despite the fact that your insides are churning. You spot your tiny plastic garbage can on the corner of the room, in case you need to hurl, but the garbage lady forgot to line it again for fuck’s sake.

You pull your knit sweater down to cover the tiny belt that holds your linen pants, the only thing holding something together in this room, ‘cos you are actually spiraling–kind of?

Fuck he’s here.

The doors to your office open, making the little wind chime you hung there tinkle, and you spot the top of his head from behind the pudgy middle-aged guy that walks in front of him—your boss. Two men flank him, one of them you know as someone from his company, because he was the one doling out NDAs the other day like how they do beef jerky samples in the supermarket. The other, more buff guy, his bodyguard, most likely. Until you know their real names, you’ll call them Beef Jerky and Beefy.

Okay, focus.

Min Yoongi finally steps into your line of vision. 

Dressed in his military uniform, he was quiet, unassuming, expression unreadable. His eyes were pretty sharp, a bit intimidating, like he was thinking about something more important than whatever this is. His hair was a bit messy in the front, but somehow it worked for him. He wasn’t huge or anything, just lean and kinda laid-back, with this easy posture that made it seem like he didn’t really care who was looking. Honestly, nothing too special. 

But then, there was his aura, something you couldn’t quite ignore. It wasn’t flashy or loud, but there was this energy about him, like the room shifted just a little when he walked in. He didn’t have to say a damn thing, yet somehow, you found yourself aware of him. It wasn’t just his looks. It was the way he carried himself, calm and confident, like he didn’t need to prove anything. Must be nice to be rich and powerful…

“Miss?” Beef Jerky leans to his side to get into your sightline.

Shit, what did he say? Anyway, you shake your head, and proceed to just introduce yourself.

“Hello, I’m the manager,” you bow, perhaps too stiffly. “I’ll be overseeing your work during your service here.”

He bows politely, too, eyes briefly meeting yours before looking away. “I’m Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you,” he says in a tone that feels blunt, almost rehearsed.

Your boss Hyun-woo, who you recently found out is his distant uncle, stands beside him, clapping his shoulder. “You are in good hands here, Yoongi. She’s my best, most trusted employee in this entire office.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a wave of self-consciousness as you struggle to make the interaction less awkward. You close your fists willing yourself to get a fuckin’ grip.

“I will leave you both to get acquainted.”

Your boss along with the two individuals leave the room. The door closes with a soft click.

Annoyingly, something is stuck in your throat and you clear it with a quick sip from this comically huge-sized tumbler your roommate got for you when you had a pesky bout of UTI last year.

“I’ve, uh, prepared your tasks for today.” You gesture to his desk, quickly pulling up the list of assignments on your tablet. You show him his username and password scribbled on a post-it by the monitor. He picks it up and inspects it. You spend time explaining the basics of the work here. Word processing. Nothing to it really. It’s about efficiency, accuracy, and confidentiality, because of the many private government records that you handle day to day.

“Do you have any questions?”

Crickets.

The office feels larger now, the silence between you echoing awkwardly. “Ooo-kay. If you don’t have any questions, that’s fine. But don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything I can help you with,” you add, hoping to sound approachable but instead sounding robotic, like an email sign off. You wince inwardly.

He just nods again, offering nothing more. He sits and picks up the paper on the top of the file. You guess that’s your cue to leave. And by leave, you mean round his table so you can sit on yours, the one across from him.

You walk back with this weird stutter in your chest. For a moment, you wonder if he finds you too formal. It’s not like you’re trying to be intimidating, but professionalism has been your go-to ever since the promotion. And it’s not like you need to wow him with your personality, so you can become fast friends. If the NDA you signed was to be taken to heart, it would be better to not establish any form of relationship with him outside of team lead and team member, what with the exorbitant number of potential violations and potential fines for breaking it.

When his keyboard starts clickety-clacking, dread sinks in your stomach that it’s going to be like this every day—strictly business, no small talk, no casual exchanges. You’re not the most sociable person, but once in a while, you do appreciate a bit of interaction. You sigh internally, returning to your own tasks, trying not to overthink the situation anymore. For now, at least.

Throughout the morning, you cannot help but steal glances at him. Damn, what skin care does he use? He literally looks radiant, like he’s glowing from within. Fuck, you have to look away because this is precisely why they trusted you to take him under your wing. You are a consummate professional, not a creep like the girls from accounting, especially trampy Danbi. You chalk it to unfamiliarity and curiosity, which you know you will quickly overcome. But for now you cut yourself some slack. Obviously, there was a legit celebrity in the room, and he seems to radiate some undeniable aura. It also feels strange to have someone else in this tiny office that you’ve occupied alone for so long.

Honestly, you’re still baffled as to why he was assigned to you, specifically. Well, that’s not entirely true. You know it’s because Hyun-woo has blind trust in you, having seen you as one of his go-to employees. Truth be told, you think he treats you like a niece. Is that weird? Maybe. He lets you assist some of the other artists who’ve come through for personal or one-time projects and you have always delivered for him, never engaging in any office gossip.

But still, you can’t shake the feeling of frustration. Why did this have to happen to you? You just got your promotion and were so excited to mentor someone, to be that “cool boss” you always envisioned. But now you’re stuck with this temp—who’s really not a temp but a world-renowned idol. It’s all so awkward.

Once in a while you catch him yawning, so in a desperate bid to cut through the tension, you ask, “Um, do you like coffee?”

He shifts to sit straighter. “Nah, I’m good. Thank you.” he responds, quickly looking your way and training his eyes back to the screen, hands typing away.

You nod, feeling slightly deflated. “Right. Got it.” 

The day drags on, and you can’t shake off the feeling of being an over-eager manager trying too hard. 

Within the first week, you discover very quickly that Yoongi is all about business. He is just here to finish his service as discreetly as possible. He clocks in on time, disappears for an hour for breaks, and clocks out on time as well. You don’t know where he disappears during those breaks, but you suspect in Hyun-woo’s office to get more privacy. He barely speaks to you. He greets you with a small bow in the morning and responds with a grunt or a hum. It’s all very… whatever. It is what it is, so you stop trying to be anything but his boring manager. You hand him his tasks every morning, check his output by EOD, like clockwork.

Unfortunately, it was one of those manic Mondays. The pile of documents grows faster than you can manage. Calls keep coming in, requests needing immediate attention, and your desk looks like the utter chaos that is the inside of your brain. You glance at Yoongi across from you—he’s focused, calm, completely unfazed by the sudden rush.

“Do you need help with that?” His voice startles you, low and soft. You honestly even forgot how it sounded, having little to no interaction everyday.

Before you can respond, he’s already pulling the spare chair from the corner and is at your side, sorting through the forms. His hands move with unexpected speed, and soon, the paperwork starts shrinking. You offer a weak smile, trying to appear professional. “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting today to be so hectic.”

He only nods in response, his focus entirely on the task at hand. You glance at him, noticing for the first time how sharp his features are up close—dark eyes, cute pointy nose, and freckles dusting some parts of his cheeks. His tongue, pink and moist, peeks out from the side of his lips as he concentrates. Ok, you need to look away RIGHT NOW.

You’re aware of the attraction most women probably feel for someone like him. Exhibit A—Danbi, who cornered you that morning in the toilet “for the scoop” and you’re sick of her. But if you’ll be honest, it’s hard not to notice that Yoongi indeed has a… pleasant face. But you are a professional. Yes, you are. This whole mysterious, brooding vibe is not going to get to you attracted to him in any way, shape, or form. You’re his manager. You signed those NDAs. Never mind that his lips are just the perfect shape, pouty, plush… and smirking.

Shit. He’s smirking because you’re caught.

You look away hastily and start opening some random file in your computer and pretend to be immersed reading it. In truth, you need some air, but it would be too damn obvious if you stepped away.

A few minutes pass in silence. You’ve quelled the initial onslaught of hormones and are back to work mode. You’re happy that he is so efficient and you smile as you get through the initial bulk of paperwork. You’re starting to relax, getting into the familiar groove of getting a file and processing it, until your fingers accidentally brush against his while reaching for the same folder. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, your heart stuttering in response. You glance up, half-expecting another awkward moment (because you can’t stop feeling like such a fool in front of him), but Yoongi remains composed, as he pulls his hand away and waits for you to take the document.

You do, but your pulse quickens. Just an accident, you tell yourself. He probably didn’t even notice. And if he did, he probably doesn’t care.

But now, as you continue working side by side, there’s an unspoken understanding. You realize, despite his quiet demeanor, he’s someone you can rely on, someone who won’t leave you stranded when things get tough. And that’s actually really nice. It’s what you wanted when Hyun-woo said you were going to have a team. Granted it’s just the two of you for now, but still, it’s nice to have a partner.

Later in the week, you find yourself in the break room, needing a coffee fix. There was a place down the street with cheap and good coffee, but unfortunately you didn’t have the time to pop in with so much work on your desk. So free and awful coffee it is today. 

You enter just in time to see Yoongi struggling with the coffee machine. You have never seen him anywhere else in the building apart from your office, so this was quite a surprise. 

“Need a hand?” you ask tentatively, stepping closer.

“I think I broke it,” he replies, hearing exasperation in his voice for the very first time. 

“Hang on, let me,” you unplug and plug the machine, fiddle with some of the buttons, waiting for it to sputter to life. 

You’re leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee machine to wake up. You know it takes forever, but it’s too familiar at this point. Yoongi stands next to you, his usual quiet self, hands in his pockets. 

“I’ve timed it,” you say dryly, glancing at him. “Two minutes and forty seconds.”

He watches the machine as if expecting it to hurry up. “Been here for more than that.”

You smirk. “Maybe it’s on a break.”

He quirks an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile. “I’ll try that excuse next time.”

You hand Yoongi his coffee, mumbles a thanks, and waits for you to finish yours before both of you settle into the break room’s small table. It’s past lunch, and you know neither of you have eaten, so you reach for the cold ham and cheese sandwiches stashed in the fridge. “Hope you don’t mind,” you say, sliding one across to him.

He looks at it for a moment before picking it up. “I’ve had worse.”

“High praise.”

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Could be worse. Could be that coffee.”

You raise your cup in mock agreement. “Fair point. Don’t even know why I drink this shit. I mean this thing.” You slap a hand over your mouth. Did you just curse in front of your subordinate? Government offices are a stickler for these things, being on the traditional side.

He chuckles at your shocked expression, and teases, “Isn’t that a code of conduct violation?”

You gnaw at your lip, suppressing the smile that wants to stretch out, but you fail. “It is. But you’re no snitch.”

He motions to zip his lips and throws an imaginary key over his shoulder. Dork.

The conversation lingers in that easy rhythm. You talk about the workload, the other departments, nothing too personal. You glance over at him, noticing how more at ease he seems, as if he’s getting used to being here—around you.

“How long have you worked here?” he leans back, stretching his arm out on the back of the chair beside him.

“Five years,” you respond, tapping the side of your lip with a napkin.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, slightly taken aback by how blunt he is. You clarify, on guard, “Tired of what exactly?”

He gestures around. “The office. The routine.” He keeps his eyes trained on you, which is a rarity as he always seems to be looking at you but never directly like that. That’s when you knew his question was sincere. That he wasn’t trying to offend you, just trying to get to know you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s not that bad. Besides,” you smile wryly, “now I have someone to talk shit about this coffee and sandwich with.”

He chuckles, light and throaty, a sound that you realize is tickling something in your brain. “Guess we’re in this shit together now.”

You nod, feeling something warm settle in your chest. The wall between you is thinner now, not entirely gone but close enough to see past.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, half-joking, half-hopeful.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “I have two years here. Hope the coffee machine doesn’t beat me to my discharge date.”

Two years. The thought makes you smile. You really don't mind spending that amount of time with him. In fact, it kinda made you a little happy.

As you step into your cozy apartment, the familiar scent of home hits you. Your roommate’s been cooking again, so it also smells like galbi jjim. Yummm.

Your place isn’t much—a small two-bedroom in Yongsan you’ve shared with Chae since Uni—but it’s got character. You both moved in when it was bare and bland, but with a little effort and a lot of creativity, you’ve turned it into something that actually feels like home. The furniture is mostly Scandi-style—clean lines, muted tones, and a lot of beige—but you’ve sprinkled in your own touches everywhere.

There’s that round white table you scored second hand, now always topped with whatever flowers Chae picks up from the market, and the rattan pendant light that casts this soft, cozy glow at night. The tiny kitchen still feels big enough when it’s just the two of you, with mismatched mugs stacked up and a bright orange pan hanging on the wall for no real reason other than it looks cool.

In the living room, a hybrid shelf is stuffed with books, vinyls, and random trinkets from all the places you’ve been. A Chinese lucky cat sculpture from that street market trip. A polaroid of you two drunk at noraebang, one of many others tucked under the glass coffee table. Trendy prints hang on the walls—well, some lean against the walls, because you’ve never gotten around to actually hanging them. It’s perfectly imperfect. It’s not much, but it’s home.

You hang your bag on the rack by the door and head to the kitchen, where Chae is stirring a pot, hips swaying to the music blaring from her phone. Of course, as she holds a silver spoon, she belts out the lyrics from the BTS song with the same title. And you only know this because she has made you watch some edits to this song that left an impression on you.

The thought of revealing this thing you’ve been holding out on her has your stomach in knots. But again, there’s an NDA involved, and you don’t want to violate anything. But just the same, you’re desperate to talk to someone about this strange new development in your life. You just hope you don’t regret risking your job by telling her.

“Hey, Chae!” you call out, and she turns, beaming at you. “How was work?”

“Busy as usual,” you reply, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “But I have something to tell you.”

Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Ooh, do tell!”

You hesitate, but excitement spills out. “I have a new workmate. And you know him.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s one of my exes.”

“No, no.” You take a quick swig of water and twist its cover back in place.

“From Uni?”

You shake your head, water still swirling inside your mouth.

“Is it one of my weird cousins?”

You gulp. “What? No! Also we haven’t talked about why you gave one of them my number. He’s blowing up my Kakao.”

She cackles unapologetically, “Sorry, I need to get them off my back. So, are you going to tell me who this mysterious person is?”

You breathe out a sigh. “Min Yoongi from BTS.”

It’s like a bomb explodes in your roommate’s brain. She drops the spoon, and you wince at the clatter. “What?! No!”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t you even joke right now.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you serious???”

You nod, half-amused by her reaction. “Yeah, he’s assigned to my department for his service.”

“Min Yoongi?” she repeats, eyes wide, almost breathless. “You… I… Do you know how famous he is? He’s like a fuckin’ national treasure! He has a diplomatic passport and everything, keys to the White House… ”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. “I mean, I guess? But I signed an NDA. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

She pulls you to her room, and you follow, rolling your eyes. Her space is a shrine to Bangtan, shelves lined with albums, posters, and even plushies. You’ve never given her shit for it, because you also had an EXO phase, but you got rid of most of your stuff through ebay when you needed some extra money.

“Wait, you have to understand him!” she exclaims, rifling through her collection. “You need to learn about his music, his artistry. He’s incredible!”

“Honestly, he has an above average WPM, that’s all I need to know.”

“WPM?” she asks.

“Words per minute. He’s an encoder.”

She gives you a WTF look, then shoves her photocard album in your arms. 

“Open that,” she tells you before she flops on her bed with a wistful look. “What's he like? You have to tell me. I need to live vicariously through you.”

You can’t help but laugh at her excitement, flopping down on the bed next to her. “Well, he’s a quick study, very efficient, and also very reserved.”

“…and very hot?” she asks, winking.

“Chaeee!” you groan, burying your face on one of her plushies, the brown one. “I mean, he’s not… bad-looking.”

“Not bad-looking? Girl?! He is sexy as fuck!” she grabs the plush off of your face and you try to school your face to seriousness, but fail.

“I dunno. It’s just work.”

“Just work?!” she echoes again, eyes sparkling. “You’re working with a literal genius! Do you know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?”

Don’t you know it? Danbi and her crew are still up on your face everyday trying to get any morsel of information you’d be willing to throw their way. You sigh, but smile at her enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll tell you more. But just remember: NDA.”

When your roommate seems satiated, she leaves you a trail of crumbs that unknowingly leads you to a rabbit hole. Two words, she said mysteriously, before you disappear into your room. “Agust D.”

That night, curiosity gets the better of you. You grab your laptop and fall down said rabbit hole, watching every Agust D music video, concert clip, and interview you can find. With each passing moment, you become more entranced, not just by the music, but by the man behind it. The raw passion in his lyrics, the confidence in his delivery—it really is quite… in Chae’s words: sexy af.

As the weeks progress, you have graduated from robotic nods to actual smiles. The greetings feel more familiar now, almost like you're becoming friends. 

You walk into the office, a small smile creeping onto your face as you see Yoongi already at his desk. He looks up and meets your gaze, returning the smile with a scratchy hello. The atmosphere feels lighter today, a far cry from your first awkward encounter.

“Ready for another exciting day of paperwork?” you tease, taking your seat.

“Dope,” he replies dryly, but there’s a playful glint in his eye.

Moments later, Yoongi’s head pops from the side of his monitor so that he’s in your view. “Uh, I have a bit of a problem with this file,” he says, brows furrowed with a hint of frustration in his tone.

You immediately jump into action, eager to help. “Let me take a look.”

As you move closer to his desk, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers move over the keyboard, veiny and strong. Images of him playing “Seesaw” on the guitar flood your mind. How can you unsee that?

You shake your head, trying to refocus. “Okay, let’s see…” But your brain keeps drifting, and you find yourself more distracted than ever. His mouth, and his deep voice, as he mumbles his troubles with the document, keeps pulling your attention. You try to push the thoughts away, frustration mounting.

“Is this the line you were talking about?” you ask, forcing yourself to concentrate on the screen.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I just can’t seem to make sense of it,” he replies, glancing at you.

“Let me just…” You lean closer, your heart racing as his shoulder brushes against yours. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

How can you focus on work when all you can think about is this thing he does with his tongue. It feels impossible.

Yoongi watches you, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You look like you’re trying to solve a complex equation.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think my brain is broken.”

Yoongi glances at you with a smirk. “If your brain is broken, then mine’s completely fried. I tried to make toast this morning and almost burnt my apartment down.”

You laugh. “Maybe you should stick to Uber eats.”

“Agreed. It’s safer for everyone involved,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with amusement, before it turns into something slightly more serious. “Not that there’s anyone else, umm, involved. I, uh, live alone, so…”

His comment makes you smile, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he stuttered the last bit out. You don’t know what to make of it, so you just left it at that. 

About to clock out, Yoongi stands from his desk, bag over his shoulder.

“You know, despite my toast incident, I’m actually a pretty great cook. That toast was a fluke,” he declares, his tone half-serious, like it has been bothering him for quite some time.

The way he looks worried that you may think he is terrible in the kitchen, is not lost on you. You raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

He shifts the bag on his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you. “You don’t believe me.”

“Give me a taste then,” you say, biting your lip. You made it sound really suggestive, but you can’t take it back now. Not when he seems to get it, and he seems kind of into it.

He leans with a playful glint in his eyes, “Alright. I’ll bring kimchi jeon, but you also have to give me a taste.” he pauses, pushing his tongue on the inside of his cheek, before continuing. “Of your…”

“Pasta.” You say, cheeks warm, but voice steady. “Friday?”

He smirks, then he’s out the door.

You bury your face on your palms, smiling like a fool as your heart beats loudly in your chest. What the actual hell is happening?

It’s Friday afternoon, and the office is quieter than usual—most of the staff are already winding down, eager for the weekend. You glance at the clock, knowing it’s almost time for the little food showdown you’ve been looking forward to all week.

You and Yoongi walk together to the break room, both armed with your dishes. His kimchi jeon and your pasta. 

You warm your containers in the microwave before you settle down on a corner spot.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,” you tease, sliding the container of Carbonara across the table. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly calm smirk.

“You seem confident,” he replies, popping open the lid of his dish. The scent of kimchi fills the room, and you have to admit—it smells incredible.

“Smells good,” you say, trying not to let your surprise show.

“Of course it does. I told you I could cook.” He clips a piece of the jeon with his chopsticks and holds it out to you. “Try it.”

You lean forward, the chopsticks brushing against your lips as you take a bite. The flavors hit you immediately—spicy, savory, just the way you like it. You chew slowly, pretending to think it over even though you’re already sold.

“Not bad,” you admit, leaning back with a grin. “But it’s gonna take more than that to beat my pasta.”

Yoongi scoffs, but there’s amusement in his eyes as he picks up a fork and twirls it into your pasta. He takes a bite, and you watch him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

He chews, then pauses, glancing up at you through his lashes. “Alright… I have to admit,” he says, his tone casual but the look in his eyes a little too serious, “this is really good.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s it? Just ‘really good?’”

He leans forward on his elbows, his gaze steady on yours. “Fine. It’s amazing,” he says, his voice softening just a bit, though there’s a teasing smile on his lips. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you quip, biting back a smile. 

Yoongi laughs, a sound that’s more relaxed than usual, and you catch the way his eyes linger on you just a little longer than necessary. “You know what? I’ll give you this one,” he concedes, sitting back with a defeated sigh, though the smile never leaves his face. “You win.”

You hoot, then immediately cover your mouth with your hands, remembering you are in your place of business.

He grins as he takes another bite of your Carbonara, forking pieces of bacon straight to his mouth. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something softer, like he’s seeing you in a way he hasn’t before. You are thrown for a loop. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you between bites, or the quiet hum of satisfaction when he takes another forkful of your dish. Whatever it is, you want it and you like it.

You push your chair back, stretching your arms above your head as the day finally comes to a close. It’s been a long one, but productive—and surprisingly enjoyable. After sharing lunch with Yoongi earlier, things felt lighter, less awkward. Still, when you glance at the window, seeing the sheets of rain coming down hard, your shoulders sag slightly. It’s pouring, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

As you slip on your parka after snapping the detachable hoodie on, Yoongi catches your eye, “You’re not planning to walk in this, are you?”

“I can take the subway,” you say quickly.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head as he shows you his keys. “Just let me give you a ride, it’s not a problem.”

You hesitate, but eventually, you sigh. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you dash out into the rain, laughing softly as you both get soaked within seconds. By the time you’re in his car, your hair sticks to your forehead, and the chill of your wet clothes clings to your skin.

But you’re glad that you’re finally inside. He blasts the heater and the warmth is immediate, fogging the windows as the downpour intensifies. He fiddles with the stereo as you settle in, and Epik High’s "Born Hater" comes through his car speakers.

“Born hater!” You announce, and you catch yourself, embarrassed at the way you had to say the title of the song so emphatically.

“Cute,” Yoongi mumbles as he looks at you like he is actually endeared and you think you would catch fire despite being soaked.

“Ok hater, what’s one thing you hate?” He asks as he puts the gear on reverse.

The question is sudden, casual, and it throws you off for a moment. “What?” You laugh, furrowing your brow. “Like, what do you mean?”

He shrugs, his grip loose on the steering wheel. “Just one thing you hate. Something small. What’s something that drives you crazy?”

His arm moves behind your seat, while one hand takes the wheel and maneuvers the car seamlessly back out of the parking spot—and you don’t quite understand why you think that lone action is so sexy. It’s a miracle you’re still able to think and respond to his simple question. “Okay… I hate it when people chew with their mouth open.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, I’m guilty of that.”

“What about you?” you ask, feeling more at ease. “What’s something you hate?”

Without missing a beat, he grins. “Mushrooms. I can’t stand them.”

“Mushrooms?” You snicker. “What, like all of them?”

“All of them,” he says firmly. “They taste like dirt.”

“Wrong.” You shake your head, laughing. “They do not. You’re just picky.”

He turns to you, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Nope, I’m right. Name another thing.”

“Pickles,” you say.

“Get out of the car,” he deadpans and you both laugh.

“Not even on pizza? I actually can’t eat pizza without it.”

“Yeah, it’s still a no for me,” you say, rubbing your palms on your pants.

“Are you still cold?” He asks.

“A little,” you say, your damp clothes still causing a bit of a chill.

At the next stop light he reaches for something in the back seat and places a folded scarf of some sort on your lap. Grateful, you mutter a thanks as BIGBANG’s “Haru Haru” comes next.

You sigh, smelling his faint cologne on the garment, and melt in your seat as you pull the fabric over your shoulders, “I love this song…”

“Me too,” he says. “I listened to this song a lot when I was in high school.”

“Yeah, me too,” you share a smile before his eyes go back on the road as the green light comes. “What were you like in school?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow, considering your question for a second. And his response was blunt, as he tends to be.  “Was a loser. Kept to myself. Worked on music when I could. School wasn’t really my thing.”

“Figures,” you tease.

He doesn’t glance at you, but there was an amused grin playing on his lips. “What about you? You look like a popular kid.”

“Oh, I was definitely a loser, too. Overachieving student who tried way too hard to please everyone,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh, looking at the pouring rain outside. “I always thought if I did everything right, I’d end up happy, but…”

“… but now?” Yoongi asks, tone softer than you’ve ever heard him before.

You hesitate, unsure why this feels like a deeper question than it should. But you wanted to give him some honesty. A tiny piece of you to hold on to if he wants. “Now… I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out, I guess.”

“You will,” he promises, glancing at you in the corner of his eyes and you meet his gaze with a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Silence falls between you. The music fills the space as the rain lets up, and the streets blur outside the window. It feels like a moment—one you don’t want to think too hard about, because thinking too hard about anything with him feels dangerous.

He pulls up outside your apartment, the car coming to a smooth stop. You don’t move right away, letting the last bit of the song play out as you sit in the warmth of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, but your voice feels quieter than usual.

“No problem.” His eyes meet yours for just a second, and it lingers—like there’s something else he wants to say, but doesn’t.

You step out into the cool night air, still feeling his gaze on you as you make your way to the door. When you glance back, Yoongi is still parked there, watching you, and just to lighten the mood you call out, "Bye, loser!" He shakes his head with a tiny grin, "Later, loser!" before he finally pulls away.

Your heart’s racing the whole way up the stairs, each step making it louder, faster, like it’s echoing off the walls. You enter your apartment and press a hand to your chest, trying to calm yourself down, but it’s useless—he’s been stuck in your head since you stepped out of the car. Hell, he's been there for days. You wonder if he could feel the headrush too, all the way from Hannam, where he went completely out of his way just to drop you off. 

What you don’t know is Yoongi, back in his apartment, though a little later, is doing the same—sitting there, trying to calm his pulse, still thinking about the long drive, and why he didn’t mind the distance. And as he lay awake in his large bed, smiling like a lunatic, replaying the moments of the day, he knew there really was only one reason:

He likes you.

A/N: What do you think??? I'm so excited for this series!!! Again, just leave a comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters! Thank you so much for reading! ~k

Edit: Answer this story-related Poll

Chapter Two >

[redfurrycat]

@nixie-deangel you're killing me 👀🥰 (also kissing your beautiful magnificent brain.)

Bradley’s mom was a serial killer. Goose, the unfortunate witness who awkwardly asks her out after she's done. (Bradley’s not freaking out about Jake. Or he's freaking out that he is NOT freaking out. He's actually super chill.)

Pillow Princess Bradley is half vampire (The Bradshaw Curse). Jake kills. Bradley sucks the blood out of their bodies.

Serial Killer Jake upping his sugar daddy tendencies and takes his pillow princess to the opera for a Count Dracula showing. (YES PRETTY WOMAN. PICTURE BRADLEY IN A FULL RED SUIT.)

Date gone wrong. They went to a Cluedo Party, you know where you go to a real mansion, play a character, search for clues to find the killer? [That's a real dorky date for them.] Bradley was playing the killer character the whole time, but that messed Jake up?

They made love on the piano of the mansion. (I can't help it okay?)

Someone tried to touch Bradley and it's the last thing they did.

These two ran a parallel game in which Jake hid gifts for Bradley all over the mansion? [He's the Mansion owner, surprise reveal?!]

Callie also wrote a novel about them. She started as soon as she met Bradley.

just got a unhinged Hangster idea where Jake comes from a RICH family and who moonlights as a contract killer and is a serial killer, who meets completely ordinary Bradley, who is just absolutely drowning in debt, most from his mom's medical care and his university school and is working three jobs and just barely managing to scrape by and doesn't question this rich goes sudden interest in him.

nor does Bradly care when Jake starts insisting on buying him things, or paying for things because he's just so tried and lonely and just desperately wants someone to take care of him.

and who better to do that then a hot unhinged man, who seems to have money he wants to spend and just wants to make him happy?

just. Pillow princess pampered Bradley (it's what he deserves!!!) and service top Jake, who's covered in blood and blushing so pretty as Bradley breathily tells him how good he is, while he rails Bradley within an inch of his life.

I just have a mighty need y'all.

[starlightguh]

The Sharpest Tongue

Word count: 2,822

Summary: What if the stone Sylus won hadn't been the right one to send him and MC home to Linkon? As MC struggles to learn the local language, she finds herself the subject of the other warriors in the clan. Too bad it seems like Sylus has the sharper tongue amongst them all.

Tags: Cunnilingus, Grasslands AU, Jealous!Sylus

A/N: This is a bit shorter than I had planned, but I wanted to write something for the grasslands AU and saw someone mention we needed more jealousy grassland stories, so here you go! 100% transparency, I could not find anything on Talanian language, so I used Mongolian words, I'm not familiar with the language so if there are mistakes, I apologize!! I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Find this fic on Ao3 as well!

The Khan had given Sylus the bright red stone for his victory in the battle against the best warriors in the clan. My worries weren’t for nothing as there wasn’t any trace of meta flux emanating from it. No matter how hard either of us tried, we couldn’t resonate with it.

So we were stuck in the grasslands.

For someone who should have been happy due to our victory, both me and Sylus held somber faces around the celebratory fires and festivities. I could feel his red eyes staring at my downcast face as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“We’ll just keep searching kitten…As long as we’re together we can keep looking for a way to return home.”

I inhaled deeply and nodded silently as I turned to look at him, his expression was really soft and full of apology. I wanted to go home badly. But…Sylus had a point, wallowing won’t do anything. We’ll just make a plan to find a way back to Linkon.

I steeled myself by fixing my slouched posture and closing my eyes to take deep breaths. After a few moments I opened my eyes and smiled at Sylus, “Well I guess now is the time to embrace the nomad lifestyle…Until we find our way back home that is.”

Sylus stands, my eyes lingering on his distracting buff physique as he holds out his hand.

“Let’s not weep and try to make the most of our time together, hm? Shavanika.”

His baritone voice stirs an excitement in my belly as I take his hand and he begins to twirl me to the rhythm of the festive music the villagers are playing by the campfire. I feel the beads in my hair slap my cheeks as I spin around the orange hues of the warm flames near me. For a brief while as me and Sylus danced around the flames, my anxieties had drifted away. I was grateful to have him by my side and ease my worries.

My bare feet feel unsteady as I haphazardly try to follow the rhythm of an unfamiliar tune, but the warm and strong arms of the silver-haired warrior in front of me hold me steady. I smile and laugh at Sylus’ serious expression as we dance and lose ourselves to a night full of joy.

—————————

After the festival, we packed up and moved to travel alongside the rest of the villagers. Me and Sylus agreed we would adapt to our surroundings of the people around us as we tried to find any clues about a way home.

I was not the fastest learner, but I did get a few things down, the women taught me duties I was expected to help with, from herding livestock, sewing, cooking, and laundry, I was slowly earning my place amongst the others. However, I was struggling with learning the language. I could pick up a few words here and there, but I couldn’t really understand or communicate as properly as I would like.

Then there was Sylus, he was a polyglot so picking up the language wasn’t difficult for him. He must have been fluent only after a solid two weeks of study. I was envious, but also grateful since I relied on his help a lot to learn and understand.

The warriors happily accepted Sylus, he easily fit in and would help them with hunts for resources as well as military strategies and ideas. The Khan favored him a lot and Tara told me whispers of them wanting to promote Sylus to a general title.

While we hadn’t been traveling with our clan for more than a month, we easily slipped into our roles quickly. And now it seems we quickly have found ourselves involved in more politics than we would like.

It was like any other day, I was riding my cream-colored stallion through the grassy fields trying to get the flock of sheep on the right path. I called out the different sounds and commands I was taught while keeping a stead-fast pace on horseback.

My hunter's instincts kicked in as I noticed one sheep was away from the herd, and upon further investigation, it was being hunted by a hungry coyote.

“Shit,” I hissed to myself and acted quickly as I grabbed a rope from my satchel. As the coyote pounced, I lassoed it and used my strength to pull him away from the sheep.

I was heaving and sweaty as I just lifted the clueless sheep back to the herd. As I was getting back on my horse, I heard some whistles call out to me. I glanced around and noticed a group of four warriors walking up and cooing at me.

I didn’t really recognize them, I only knew they were of the same clan since their chest guards had the same color ropes that Sylus wore. The men spoke to me in Talanian, but I could only pick out words like ‘strong’ and ‘brave.’

“I uh…am not familiar with the language yet, chlaarai .”

They seemed to just smile as one made a comment to the group in Talanian, they laughed and just waved goodbye toward me as they rode off.

I didn’t think much of this encounter until the next day.

We had set up camps deep in the Northern Grasslands, orange was taking over the skies as the dawn broke. I was hanging clothes I had just washed in the river on a clothesline outside one of the elder's yurts.

Behind me I heard the sharp tongue of Talanian, I glanced and noted those same big warriors from the other day were talking. I had paid them no mind as I did my duties.

Suddenly I heard the sharp thuds of angry footsteps behind me and a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I glanced up and saw a very pissed-off Sylus glaring off in the direction of the four other men.

He yelled at them in Talanian and growled when the other men responded in what I could only assume was a taunt. Sylus let go of my waist and marched up to one of the men and grabbed him by his leathers. People started to gather to watch the rowdy commotion.

I turned and saw Tarna and sighed in relief since she could explain what was going on, “Hey, Tarna….What exactly is happening?” I asked her urgently as it sounded like the men were raising their voices.

“Well…It seems the Khan’s second son Gansu said something about your er….” She paused and looked shy when translating what was said, “birthing hips, and how he wanted you as a wife to bear his children.”

I stood frozen as it all clicked into place. I looked over at Sylus who was still arguing with them, a scowl marred on his face.

“Sylus came in and said they shouldn’t speak about you that way that you were his beloved. Gansu told him that it didn’t matter to him unless you two were wedded or you were pregnant.”

“Seriously?!? If he’s the son of a Khan he can marry whoever he wants. Why would he want me?”

Tarna shook her head at me, “That’s why Sylus is arguing, he says that you are with him and will never have anyone else’s children.”

The arrogant Gansu held a smirk as he practically hissed at Sylus, a dark expression glazed over Sylus’ face. I’ve only ever caught glimpses of Sylus angry, but never this murderous.

“What did he say?” I asked Tarna, my voice full of worry. I could feel the icy chill of Sylus’ anger even from a distance.

“Gansu just said ‘well whoever takes it keeps it’ as a threat… I think you should go over and stop Sylus, if he gets in a fight with the Khan’s son they could severely punish him,” Tarna warned me.

I nodded and without a second thought, I ran up behind Sylus and gently placed my hand on his lower back. His tense body seemed to ease up a bit at my touch as I tried my hardest to speak in Talanian.

“ Amarkhan bai….S-Shavanika …” Fight not, beloved . These were the only words I could best make out with my limited knowledge.

Silently he grabbed my hand and glared down Gansu as he turned to walk away with me. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as Gansu and his men still taunted behind us. We began walking off towards our yurt and it wasn’t until we were a safe distance away I had to whimper to Sylus.

“Your grip is too tight it hurts,” I cried.

He seemed to snap out of his trance and he softened his grip and rubbed his large thumb soothingly across my hand, “Sorry sweetie… I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I don’t exactly know what was said, but Tarna translated some of what you guys were saying. I didn’t realize the Khan’s son and his friends saw me herding sheep yesterday.”

“The Talanian language is very harsh, most of the words are very direct. The disgusting words from the Khan’s second son really got under my skin is all… Why didn’t you tell me you ran into him yesterday?”

“I didn’t think it was important… Also, I hardly saw you yesterday,” I sigh, “You came back to our tent pretty late… Are you sure you weren’t up practicing Talanian with the other village girls?” I hiss a bit. While the Khan’s son may be chasing my skirts, I can’t ignore the fact that all the girls of the village have been trying their hardest to catch Sylus’ eye.

Sylus stopped in his tracks and growled he turned to me and looked down with a sharp gaze, “How many times do I need to express to you I’m not interested in the other village girls?”

I match his glare and put my hands on my hips, “And how many times do I have to tell you I can handle myself, the Khan’s son doesn’t scare me. I’ll just refuse him.”

Sylus tsked his lips and leaned down to lift me up on his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!”

“No. It seems like I need to practice Talanian with the only village girl who matters to me,” he says sharply. He gives my butt a playful smack as I’m hoisted over his shoulder, my face in the direction of his backside.

I smack his butt back and he just chuckles, “You’re not getting out of this one Shavanika, so simmer down kitten.”

When he strutted into our tiny little yurt and set me down, his red eyes shined with a mixture of excitement and mischief. His hand remained on my waist as he spoke in a low and seductive tone.

My back arched at the feeling of his hands trailing down my waist and gathering my skirts up in his large rough palms. He set his other palm in the dip on my hip as he stared at me with almost an appraising look in his eye. “Let’s start with the lesson…What did that man call these?”

His left dominant hand was under my skirt caressing my thigh, I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes and tried to remember the foreign words spoken earlier.

“T-Toro? Kha-?” I sputtered out as his palm found its way to one of my bare-asscheeks. He squeezed it and tsked his lips as he brought his face closer to mine and he spoke lowly.

“Torkah Khongo,” the purr in his voice did nothing but further my arousal. I was being engulfed by the dominant energy Sylus was putting out. It didn’t take very much for me to become putty in his strong hands.

His other hand reached under my skirt as well and without further notice, the lengthy skirt that usually met my ankles were now scrunched up at my waist. Underwear wasn’t a common thing within the tribe, so I had been forced to forgo that luxury and be commando under my lengthy traditional clothing. I think for a situation such as a lustful Sylus, it was beneficial to be as naked as possible.

“Do you know what the translation is?” He quirked a brow.

“B-Birthing Hips?”

“Mhmm,” there was a slight growl to his response, “he said that you had the birthing hips to bear him many sons.” Sylus gripped my hips in a tightening grip. “Too bad for him these hips are miniikh.”

Sylus dropped to his knees in a squat as his mouth bit a part of my inner thigh, his hands rubbing the bare skin before him. “Do you know the translation?”

His mouth placed hot and wet kisses in my inner thigh, teasing me by being so close to where I actually wanted his mouth. I gasped out an answer as he was torturing me with kisses, “M-Mine?”

“Good girl, seems like you do know more than I thought,” he whispers breathlessly, “Let me reward you.”

He then licked my dripping slit, I let out a whimper in surprise.

“Tell me, who do these hips belong to?” He asked as he pulled away from licking my heat.

“Y-You.”

He smacked my thigh at my answer, “Ah-Ah-Ah, in Talanian sweetie.”

“ Ta,” I moaned out as he suckled on my sensitive pearl.

With a pop of his lips, he pulled away and smirked, “Hmm that’s a good answer, but I have a better one. Repeat after me: Nökhör .”

The pronunciation of the word feels strange as I try my best to repeat it, “noct-core?”

Sylus just shakes his head and repeats it slower for me, when I finally pronounce it right he rewards me by entering one of his fingers into my dripping center.

“Keep saying it sweetie, practice makes perfect,” he chuckles and his mouth finds my center again as he slowly devours me.

With his finger slowly pumping me and his greedy tongue flickering on my sensitive folds, my voice is nothing but a loud and needy whine of this new word he’s taught me and I haven’t a clue what it means. All I know is Sylus likes it as he happily groans into my dripping cunt.

“Louder. I want the whole tribe to hear you scream it, so everyone knows we belong to each other and no one else,” his lower face is dripping in my essence and his red eyes have a bit of a manic and desperate look as I look down on him.

“Sylus….” I lose my mind as he now has three fingers in me and the mouth of a sinner as he loudly slurps at my folds with his sharp tongue.

Ecstasy and euphoria wash over me as I come on his face with that new and unfamiliar word on my tongue. My knees shake and nearly give out, but Sylus stands and lifts me up so my legs are wrapped around his middle.

I lean my head forward as I pant into his ear, “What’s the translation of that word.”

He laughs as he rubs my back while I come down from my high, “Why, it’s my future title…It means ‘husband.’”

“Sylus! How bold of you to assume!”

He frowned at this and glared at me, “I'm not assuming anything, but unless you want to be the wife of the Khan’s son, then you must be mine…I can’t protect you from the leaders otherwise.”

I blush, “I-It’s just so embarrassing….I never thought about marriage.”

He smirks a bit, “Well I'm glad I can change your mind, at least while we’re here. Linkon has a very different culture from the grasslands, and we can talk about a proper marriage when we return home. Deal?”

“Fine but you’re not knocking me up while I'm here,” I huff at him as he lays me down on our pelts and strips off the rest of his clothes.

“I make no promises, but I’ll do my best. You’re just too tempting, Shavanika.”

“Only for you my Nökhör.”

That night Sylus made me scream so loud that the Khan’s son did nothing but glare daggers as Sylus confidently walked through the village the next day I, on the other hand, was forced to stay in bed due to my wobbly knees. When I finally returned to my duties after a day's rest, the other girls just giggled as they saw me.

Tarna translated a message for me that the elders are happy for whatever blessings me and Sylus marriage may bring, but to keep it to ourselves at night. I was horrified and embarrassed, while Sylus walked around as the proud warrior both in the grasslands and in the bedroom.

The strongest warrior and the sharpest tongue will always come out on top I suppose.

~fin~

Translation guide:

Shavanika - Beloved

Chlaarai - Sorry

Amarkhan bai - Fight not

Torkah Khongo - Birthing Hips

Miniikh - Mine

Ta - You

Nökhör - Husband

[chrisevansonly]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

✯social media au

✯dad!charles leclerc x female reader

✯sophia is a certified daddy’s girl, and charles wouldn’t have it any other way

✯not requested but just felt in the mood for some dad!charles! requests are open as usual 🫶🏻

ynleclerc

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sophia & mommy breakfast date🥰

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pre grand prix weekend date with my princess ❤️

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leclerc_pascale ma soleil❤️❤️

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ynleclerc

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and we’re off to Silverstone for the British Grand Prix! i promise sophia is so happy to go, she’s just tired😂🩷

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francisca.cgomes sophia’s little tired face😭

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british gp lets go 💪🏻

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>charles_leclerc 😘😘😘

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[blluespirit]

Overall NATLA Thoughts

Okay, now that I've watched the series, I can give my thoughts.

Overall, I thought it was good!!! I had fun watching it! I'd rate it a solid 6.5/10. It's nowhere as good as the original, but it was definitely enjoyable and made some nice changes here and there that I liked. There were also some things I was also Not a fan of too.

I said in another post that it's best to treat this like an AU of the original. There will things that are great and things that are bad. That's the nature of adapting something.

Having said that, I need to get my initial thoughts off my chest... here we go.

Things I thought were good:

Sokka's characterisation - I really enjoyed him! I thought Ian did a good job! He played the funny moments well and retained the underlying seriousness/cautiousness. It wasn't perfect, but I enjoyed the changes a lot and think it was overall a solid performance.

Zuko's characterisation - Like Sokka, I do think I was most satisfied with their performances. A lot of Zuko's moments from the cartoon are sometimes... well, cartoonish and definitely wouldn't translate to live action, but I think Dallas did a nice job at balancing Zuko's desperate anger and that occasional sassiness well.

Zuko and Iroh moments were great. Had me on the floor crying. As it should have.

The bending looks a trillion times better than the movie - I understand it would not have been easy for the actors but, overall, I was very happy about it.

The scenery was stunning. It just looked so beautiful. I loved it so much.

Absolutely ADORE that they made Zuko a good calligrapher and artist. I read a fic about a million years ago where Zuko is a fantastic calligrapher and I thought it was perfect and made so much sense, and now I can say it's canon. This is perfect for me.

S U K I

The Freedom Fighters were ✨ perfect

They were so real for making Oma and Shu lesbians

Koh, Wan Shi Tong and Hei Bai looked fantastic, but I have more to say about all of them below, unfortunately.

I actually like the change they made that Katara is Aang's sole waterbending teacher.

Aang is not perfect, and needed more goofy scenes HOWEVER, I did like how they've had Aang's guilt more prominent in the story. The original didn't do a very good job with that, imo.

Zuko entering is breaking and entering era by breaking into an impenetrable Earth Kingdom prison is just perfect.

In Masks, I like how Aang and Zuko got a longer conversation - that was pretty cute.

I liked how they changed Yue a bit and got her out of the arranged marriage... how Yue saw Sokka in the Spirit World before meeting him in the real world.

Things I didn't like:

Far too much info-dumping/exposition. So much spelling things out. It was not as egregious as the movie, and I get there's a lot of information that needs to be conveyed well and quickly... but sometimes it really took me out of the show.

Why are Mai and Ty Lee here.... I was hoping the live action would give them a bit more depth (and they might as it goes forward!), but why put them in season 1 at all if they're just going to stand around???

Some odd changes - putting this as one point, but there are some bizarre changes that didn't make sense to me, as they did not benefit the story or deepen the characters. I have two main examples: a) making it so Aang didn't run away from home, and b) making it so Zuko actually fights Ozai in the Agni Kai.

Characterisation of Katara was Not Great. I don't think I got many hints of the reckless, compassionate, badass Katara until the end when she fights Pakku and rallies all the women together to fight (which happens off-screen). She was sweet and kind, but she just lacked the fire that OG Katara has.

Azula's characterisation - Azula is desperate to impress Ozai and so her character is just…. brewing with anger, frustration, desperation. I was SO excited to see the Azula we are introduced too… perpetually and irritatingly calm, calculating and ruthless. She's perfect, she's terrifying! She's literally the character of all time. But this Azula had more Zuko vibes? I don't think there's anything wrong with giving Azula more concrete motivation by wanting to impress Ozai and establishing that Ozai is abusive to both his kids, but I do think trying to do that right off the bat is a mistake.

WHY is Wan Shi Tong here. I love Wan Shi Tong, but like I said: Why Is He Here? Why could we not have his iconic, ominous as fuck introduction from The Library, and instead he's introduced in a random season 1 episode giving Aang Information(tm) about the Spirit World.

When Aang gave Koh the statue, and then he just takes it and immediately lets all the villages go, and neither of them even say anything, I actually laughed out loud. Like, I am so sorry, but what in the jesus fuck was that.

Speaking of Koh - I think Koh is better the less we know about him. Roku saying ~all Koh wants is a family like the rest of us~ just pissed me off?? I like my Koh the Face Stealer Terrifying and Unknowable, thank you.

NOTHING EVER REALLY HAPPENS WITH HEI BAI!!?? where's my precious spirit bear?? Like Aang never really does anything with him and the replacement Koh story is boring and it sucks.

Bumi.... sorry I just didn't vibe with him at all.

Things I can't decide on:

Fancy spirit knife to kill the moon spirit annoyed me a bit, but I guess they wanted to Kuruk something to work with and a little bit more interaction with Aang which I get but idk. I really flip/flop on this one.

I've been very on the fence about having Azula (and Ozai) being in the show in season 1 in general. I'm not sure if it benefited either of their characters.

Azula & Ozai's dynamic - Okay, so, I think they're trying to give Azula more depth, right? They're trying to establish what it was like for Azula to live with Ozai and that she's also (like Zuko) trying to desperately prove herself to him, but Ozai using Zuko's... achievements to do that just felt so weird. I get he's doing it to manipulate her, but that just felt so wrong when in canon it's very obvious that Ozai just didn't give a single fuck about Zuko. Ozai pits Azula against Zuko by saying he's a failure, he's a bad bender etc. Azula is born lucky, Zuko is lucky to be born - like, Ozai says that to Zuko's face. I don't know if I am communicating this point very well, but it just didn't seem right to me??

Zuko vs Zhao in the Siege of the North... I genuinely do not know how to feel about it! I didn't love it, I didn't hate it. I don't know how to feel about Zhao telling Zuko that his mission is a sham and that Azula is the prized one... It feels like it's saying the quiet part out loud? In the OG we all know that Ozai sending Zuko on that mission was an excuse to get rid of him, but we can work that out, no one actually says it. And then Iroh just fucking killing him/mortally wounding him instead of the Iconic scene where Zuko reaches out to save him despite everything Zhao has done to him, but Zhao's own pride gets in the way from letting him accept help from Zuko.

Zuko’s crew being the 41st is not necessarily a bad thing at all!!! But I do just want to say that in the original, the attack goes ahead, and presumably, those soldiers die. It’s horrible. Zuko’s sacrifice is in vain, and it was always going to be in vain because the Fire Nation as it stands would not allow Zuko's compassion to win. Ozai would not allow it. While not necessarily a bad choice (all the soldiers bowing to Zuko on the boat was so sweet I loved it!) but I think it does take away some of the horror of Zuko’s story (same as it does with making Zuko fight back in my opinion) because the whole point is that Zuko did the right thing - and he was punished for it, and those soldiers died anyway.

anyway...

Okay!! got that off my chest. I know I just had a big whine here, but I still had a lot of fun watching this show. I think some of the backlash is a bit over the top and unwarranted. It was never going to stand up to the original - and that's okay.

Enjoy it for what it is!

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Mirror Mirror - L.SM

🎇Who: Lee Seokmin x female reader 🎇What: Strangers to friends to lovers, magic au, fluff, some smut, sprinkle of angst 🎇Wordcount: 15.9k 🎇Warnings: Mentions of death/ghosts but nobody dies, profanity, Seokmin’s thighs (yes they need a warning), biting/hickeys, body worship, oral (f), pervert Wonwoo, technically there’s a rather large age-gap but magic stuff makes it meaningless

Summary: The glass shimmers, a gentle breeze tickles your cheeks. It's working. After all this time it's- "Ow," the human suddenly sprawled on the floor in front of you whines as he rubs his sore knees. It didn't work. You really thought it would work. You look up at the glass in front of you. It's solid again. The breeze is gone, and it didn't work. You’re still stuck, just as you have been for years. Except now, this too-trusting stranger is stuck here with you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- The single biggest juciest thank you to @wongyuseokie for making the beautiful banner! Look at that beauty, pure talent that, I am awed and endlessly grateful, thank you, darling 💗💗💗

This day was bound to come. You knew it logically; knew that one day your absence would be noticed, and the vultures would swarm to claim that which you had kept safe for so long. You knew it was coming; you just didn’t realise it would be so soon.

You can only stand on the outside watching in, as your home gets emptied of all your precious belongings, years of carefully collected curios and priceless pieces. All tossed into cardboard boxes and carried off out of your line of sight in the hands of people who have never cared for you or your belongings. People who have never taken the chance to understand that it isn’t just blood that runs through your veins, that your mind isn’t twisted with delusions, just open to such wonders that they will never see even with their eyes wide open.

It hurts. 

You can’t bear to watch the only signs of the fact that you lived a happy, adventurous life full of whimsy and beauty which most can’t comprehend, get pulled out of the home you had made for yourself. Gutted until no sign of joy is left. It feels too much like they’re tearing your heart and soul from your chest.

So, you leave. 

You walk a world that only has glimpses of light left, little pockets of life amongst the dull stillness you’ve grown too accustomed to during the past months of aimless wandering. 

You walk, and walk, and walk until that hurt in your chest feels more like an old scar than an open wound, and then you turn around and walk back.

By the time you return, your home no longer looks like your own, nor does it look like an empty shell. There’s a brightness to it even if it’s so dull in your world, life and comfort tucked in amongst the half-built furniture and half-unpacked boxes. 

You wonder how long you’ve been gone. 

Curious of who now resides in the home you never intended to leave behind, you wander through the mostly dark house until you find a bright room and cross the master bedroom with ease, to lean towards the mirror and peer through the glass. 

The bedroom is still, lit by the natural rays coming through the open window revealing that whoever the new homeowner is, they must’ve focused on unpacking this bedroom first. 

The large bed has clearly held a slumbering being already, and lazily discarded clothes lay on the fluffy rug beside the bed as if thrown off before a tired person had climbed into bed the night before and have yet to pick the items up.

A glance at the cute, colourful clock on the bedside table tells you that it’s almost 10am. 

Without thinking, you glance to the other side of the bed and find that the bedside table isn’t a matching set of two, only a lone table, so you think it’s safe to assume this person is single, and by the lack of other rooms set up that they also live alone. Or their housemates haven’t set up their own mirrors yet, or maybe simply don’t have them. 

A sudden gasp and the sound of items clattering to hardwood flooring makes you look further into the room, leaning closer to the glass to get a better view. 

You don’t expect to find big eyes already on you. But it does explain the shocked sound and dropping of items; you imagine most people would be a tad surprised to find a woman standing in the reflection of their mirror.

Deciding that there’s no point trying to hide now, you lift a hand and wave at the gawking man. He seems to be growing paler by the second. Surprisingly, he lifts one hand to wave back at you slowly, seeming to be moving on autopilot. 

“Hey,” you greet. Maybe you should’ve stayed quiet though, because as soon as the word is out of your mouth, the man’s eyes roll back and he collapses to the floor unconscious amongst the toiletries he had earlier dropped. “Oops.”

Of course, there’s not a lot for you to do, no way for you to shake him awake or interact with him in any way while he’s unconscious, so you just thunk your forehead against the glass with a sigh and wait.

Luckily, the man comes to after only a couple of minutes, relieving your boredom and the worry that was starting to niggle at the back of your mind as you considered that he could’ve hit his head, or maybe had a delicate heart that you had inadvertently caused havoc with by simply existing in this way.

At first, the man seems very confused as he shuffles up, rubbing his head a little signifying that he had banged it, but at least you don’t think it was hard enough to cause any concern. He peers around himself at the floor and his items there, clearly trying to do the mental maths to find out the reason he woke up sprawled amongst his toiletries only a few steps into the bedroom.

You decide to just wait for him to remember on his own and simply watch him slowly gather the toiletries utterly puzzled. 

It’s when he’s got his arms full and almost standing upright, knees still bent from his rise that he seems to recall the events leading up to waking up on the floor. He freezes in a squat, eyes slowly turning wide before his head woodenly turns to the large mirror fixed to the wall beside the dresser. 

When your eyes meet, you wiggle your fingers in a wave. He screams, drops the toiletries, and runs out of the room leaving you staring at the splatter of conditioner and tiny pieces of broken plastic.

“H-hello?!” 

The timid call matched with faint knocking wakes you up from your nap on the dull couch. You stretch and yawn as you get up to shuffle through the dim home and enter the bright bedroom. 

The man is standing on the other side of the glass, one hand raised in a fist as he tentatively knocks against it, his eyes flickering around the reflection. 

He looks determined, yet there’s still a fear in his eyes that you really can’t blame him for having. Though it does make you roll your eyes when that fear grows exponentially when his eyes find you entering the room. 

“I can’t hurt you, no need to look so scared,” you point out while nearing the glass. Understandably, the man scuttles back a little when you get close enough. “I can’t reach through, look,” you reach out, yet your hand hits the glass with a thunk. “See? I can’t touch you; you can’t touch me.” 

“Oh.” To your genuine surprise, it seems that is all you need to say and do for the man to lose all fear, as he steps closer to the glass and smiles at you a little. “Sorry, I’ve never met a mirror ghost before, I don’t know the rules.” 

“I’m not a ghost.”

“You’re not?” He tilts his head a little, lips pouting slightly as he thinks. “Are you some kind of fae?” 

“No, I’m a witch.” 

“Wah, really?!” He lights up, lips stretching into a wide grin. This is not how you expected this to go, especially considering that your first two meetings consisted of him passing out and running away screaming. “That’s so cool! I’ve never met a witch before! Can you show me some magic? Can you teach me?!” 

“Uh…” You’re so thrown off by his genuine enthusiasm that you can do nothing but stare dumbly at him for a few seconds. “Not from here, no.” 

“Oh.” The man frowns, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “That sucks. I’d love to learn magic.” 

“I mean, I can make a deal with you, if you really want to learn?” You offer, deciding that this emotionally open man may just be naive enough to trust a stranger in his bedroom mirror. 

“What kind of deal?” He looks at you suspiciously and folds his hands over his chest protectively. “I’m not giving you my soul.” 

“Your soul?” You can’t help but laugh. The man’s expression does a weird twitchy thing before his arms drop to his sides and he looks at you with round, sparkling eyes. “What would I do with that? I’m no demon and even they don’t claim souls much anymore; there’s an overpopulation issue in hell, you know? Too many assholes these days.” 

“Hell’s real?” 

“Anything’s real if you look hard enough and believe.” 

“Unicorns?” 

“Okay, no, that was just a drunken fairy sticking twigs to horses’ heads and covering them in fairy magic to make them sparkle, and fuck with humans.”

“Huh, okay,” he responds in easy acceptance of your words. You can’t help but wonder what kind of absurdities you could tell this man to be fact, and he’d accept it without question. You didn’t know such naive people even exist in adulthood.

“Right so, would you be willing to make a deal with me?” 

“Yeah! Sure!” He beams, nodding happily already.

“I haven’t even given any terms yet. You don’t know what I’d ask of you.” 

“Oh, right.” His expression turns serious, and his tone follows when he speaks next. “What do I have to do for you to teach me magic?” 

“Get me out of this fucking place.” 

“Oh, you’re stuck?” 

“Do you think I’m in here for fun?” You deadpan.

“I don’t know! I told you I’ve never met a witch before! I don’t know what witches like to do for fun!” 

“Right, well no, this is not my idea of a fun time. I am stuck and I need someone in the real world to get me out.” 

“How?” 

“I assume by doing the reverse of what I did to get stuck in here,” you reply with a shrug. “I can write down the incantation and a list of what you need to get.” 

“Okay.” He looks at you with nothing but trust and patience, eyes so pure and innocent and posture open. 

As you turn to go to the kitchen to get the memo pad and pen from the fridge, you silently decide that once you’re out of here and back in the real world, you’ll teach him how not to be such an easy target, alongside the magic lessons.

“Okay, everything is all set up!” The man announces as he gets to his feet in front of the mirror, as if you haven’t been watching him carefully set up all the items from the list on the floor in the places you instructed him to. 

“Good job,” you praise in a murmur, sort of distractedly as your eyes dart over the symbols drawn on the glass to check for the nth time that they’re exactly the same as the ones you had shown him on one of the many pieces of memo pad paper now littering the floor by your feet.

When your eyes land back on the man, he’s grinning proudly at the short praise you had given him. Clearly, he’s very easy to please. Must be nice. 

“Alright, whenever you’re ready.” 

“What will happen?” He asks as he steps forward to press one palm to the glass while his other lifts the piece of paper where he had earlier copied down the incantation which you had shown him through the glass. 

“The glass will move and then I can step back through.” 

“That’s it? No levitating items or fire or-” 

“That’s it. I can show you that stuff once I’m back in the real world.” 

“You will?” You hum in confirmation with a little nod that makes his smile turn excited. His shoulders wiggle a little with gleeful anticipation. It’s admittedly pretty cute. “Okay, okay, I got this, I can totally bring a witch out of her mirror world and back into the real world, you got this, Seokie.” He murmurs to himself under his breath. It only really occurs to you then that you don’t even know each other's names. 

Oh well, plenty of time for that once you’re back in reality.

You watch intently as the man, Seokie as he referred to himself, takes a deep breath with his eyes closed before opening them and immediately starts to read aloud the words written there in a language he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t seem to care that he has no idea what he’s actually saying.

You definitely need to teach the man something about self-preservation once you’re in the real world.

The incantation should work; you’ve revised this same spell so many times since you first got stuck here, a reverse of your own spell that trapped you in this world of your own making. Previous versions of the incantation have never worked, you’ve tried this a few times with various humans through various mirrors, yet nothing. 

But this time, it should work, you’ve fine-tuned it. It has to work.

A breath catches in your throat as you notice the glitter of magic under Seokie’s palm.

The glass shimmers. 

A gentle breeze tickles your cheeks. 

It's working. After all this time it's-

"Ow," the human suddenly sprawled on the floor in front of you whines as he rubs his sore knees.

It didn't work. 

You really thought it would work.

You look up at the glass in front of you. It's solid again. The breeze is gone, and it didn't work. You’re still stuck, just as you have been for years. Except now, this too-trusting stranger is stuck here with you.

"I quit!" You exclaim, throwing your hands up in frustration and turning to walk off. 

"Wait!" The human screeches as the room gradually darkens with your exit. You don't look back, but you hear him scramble after you. “Why’s it so dark?” He murmurs once he’s close enough that he’s almost pressed to your arm as he wraps his long fingers around your forearm like a lost child. 

“There aren’t any mirrors in these rooms,” you answer, motioning to the dark, lifeless rooms you pass. Dull copies of his own house, full of subdued versions of his own belongings. “No light can reach them.” 

“Oh. But it’s not entirely dark, at least…” You feel his gaze on you. “Not where you are. Do witches have glow in the dark auras or something?” 

“Glow in the dark auras?” You repeat as you stop and look at him incredulously. 

“Yeah…I am guessing by your expression that glow in the dark auras are not a thing.” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” you reply with a shrug, then turn and continue forward to leave the apartment. “Doesn’t mean it’s entirely non-existent though, just that I’ve never seen or heard a thing about it.”

“Everything exists if you believe,” he paraphrases your earlier words as he toddles along at your side while still holding your arm to stay in whatever the not-a-glow-in-the-dark-aura surrounds you and gives off a soft, naturally warm light like a cosy little bubble to light your way and keep you safe. 

“Yeah,” you affirm simply. “But not that witches have glow in the dark auras. It’s just a detail of the original spell, so that I can always see where I’m going and what’s around me clearly, even outside of lit spaces.” 

“Ahh, so you can’t make me a human glow stick too?” 

“No,” you laugh. “Not in here at least.” 

“Don’t you have magic here?” 

“Don’t you think I’d have already left by now if I had magic?” 

“Not if it’s like a one-way door,” he reasons with a shrug. “Maybe you could walk through but not back.” 

“Mm, I see the logic but no, that’s not it. It’s supposed to be a swinging door, I can come and go as I please but evidently, I fucked up somewhere.” 

“Ah.” 

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Seokmin not Seokie, even if he always smiles brightly when you call him the nickname, tumbled into your mirror world, and got stuck with you; it could be hours, could be days, could be longer. There’s no way to tell the passing of time here unless you happen to be in a lit room with a clock, but even then, that doesn’t always give you an accurate reading if you can’t tell how many days have passed since last you looked. 

There was a room with a calendar some time ago, but when you last visited it had all changed and you no longer could sit and watch the little old lady knit scarves for grandchildren that never visited. You refuse to let yourself linger on why she’s no longer there, and now a young couple with a yappy dog that pisses on the rug all the time have painted over the pencils marks on the walls tracking heights of her loved ones who rarely even answered her calls. 

For hours, or days, or weeks, or months, you don’t know, you and Seokmin spend most of your time in an abandoned department store where there are fake rooms set up to display assorted items for sale. A lot of the store is smoke damaged, and most areas vandalised on top, but even broken mirrors bring light into your world.

Sometimes, you’ll sprawl over a dusty couch or bed and watch Seokmin gather broken items to throw into bins and sweep up. He’ll fetch items from elsewhere and set up the area of the moment until it’s all pretty and cosy. Only for it to be back to the vandalised state the next time the pair of you return after leaving the lit place. 

At first, it had made Seokmin visibly sad every time you two would return somewhere only to find his hard work to be for nought. For the lit space to reset in your absence as if he had never stepped a determined foot there in the first place. 

But now, Seokmin has somehow injected his sunny disposition into even that inevitable cruelty and declared that it’s ‘like those games where you have to fix up and decorate rooms, and I have endless chances and possibilities!’ You have no idea what games he means but you admire his ability to spin it into something positive. At least it gives him a better chance at keeping his sanity.

When you’re not camped out at the department store watching Seokmin play interior decorator or making up skits and plays to act out with whatever props are to hand to make you laugh until you cry, the two of you tend to wander around the dull city looking for different lit spaces to hang out and explore. 

Before Seokmin fell through the glass into the mirror world and you were alone, you never cared if a space was lit or not, you know there is nothing else living in this world so there’s nothing that can hurt you even in the darkest places where you can’t see past the edge of your glow. 

But Seokmin hates unlit places, he’s afraid of the dark and always has been, so now you avoid them and have never stepped foot in the pitch-black spaces since he arrived.

Somehow though, there’s always a new lit space to explore, more games to pull out of cupboards while people aren’t home, and sometimes barely manage to scuttle out of sight when they return. 

A few times, Seokmin has asked why you hide from everyone when they could potentially free you from the mirror world. You always say the same thing ‘I don’t want to face the same disappointment again.’ Eventually, Seokmin stops asking and you can’t tell if it’s to protect your heart or his. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask the man at your side, and not for the first, second or third time either. In fact, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve repeated those words.

“Yeah, it’s been long enough,” he confirms, squeezing your hand slightly, with his long fingers locked between your own as he stares at the front door. The door of a home that was once yours, once his, and now someone else's. 

“It’s not like we’re on a time limit here, we don’t ever have to come back if you don’t want to.” 

“I need to see who lives in our house now,” he assures and bravely reaches out to open the washed-out door. 

It surprises you both that the entrance hall is lit, and you both quickly notice the mirror above the side table against the wall. 

“Didn’t expect that, not many houses have hall mirrors,” you admit.

“I meant to put one up, never got the chance,” Seokmin informs with a little grin before the two of you enter the house and shut the door behind you.

There’s no wind, no creepy crawlies, no strangers to follow you inside but you both still always shut entrance doors behind you as if holding on to that little piece of reality.

“Huh, it’s lit everywhere,” the man comments as he peers around the living room doorway, and then the kitchen doorway opposite. “What weirdo puts a mirror in their kitchen?” 

“A big one.” 

“Big one,” Seokmin giggles, making you let go of him to shove him. “Hey!” He laughs as he stumbles, and then looks at you with an attempt at a stern expression, yet he’s still smiling too much and his eyes sparkle with the same joy he always looks at you with. You can’t say that yours don’t hold that same glimmer for him either. 

“What?” You reply innocently while backing up towards the stairs. 

All Seokmin does is point a finger at you in warning before you’re turning and running up the stairs while laughing happily, with him right on your shadow making dramatic growling sounds. 

He’s getting much better at those noises too; he rarely even chokes in his attempts these days. You’re oddly proud of him for that.

As you run through the house, you vaguely notice that Seokmin’s observation from downstairs seems to be correct up here; every room and hallway is lit with at least one mirror per room. It’s very strange. 

You barrel into the en-suite of the master bedroom without thought and try to shut the door on Seokmin to playfully lock him out, but he’s too close and slams it open.��

“Huh?” The deep, male voice makes you both freeze, then look over to the mirror expecting to see someone there. But from this angle, the room on the other side of the glass looks entirely empty. 

You motion for Seokmin to stay there and quiet before you turn and sneak further into the room to try and figure out where the man on the other side is. 

Though the bathroom is entirely empty, so you stop and stare confusedly at the mirror. “I can’t-” you start to tell Seokmin that you can’t see anything, yet suddenly from the doorway in the reflection, the very edge of a person steps into the room so you quickly clamber into the bath and lay flat against the porcelain hoping that the stranger won’t be able to see you in the reflection. It’s a pretty big bath with high edges that you got installed yourself so that you can soak properly. You briefly wonder how long ago that was.

You have no idea what Seokmin is doing; you can’t really risk lifting to pop your head out from the bath just in case the stranger is still in the bathroom and facing the mirror. The last thing you need is to scare the man into falling and cracking his head on the tiles. You may not live in the house anymore, but you really don’t want it to be home to a ghost just in case you do manage to return one day.

Although there is literally only one person it can be, when Seokmin suddenly appears leaning over the bath a few moments later, you shriek in surprise, making him laugh.

“Who’s there?!” Comes from the other side of the glass followed by rapidly approaching footsteps. 

A shared, panicked look passes between yourself and Seokmin before you reach up to grab his t-shirt at the same time as he climbs into the bath. You pull him chest to chest and wind an arm around his waist to urge him as close to you as possible while your free hand cups the back of his head to tuck his face into your neck. 

You really hope that the sides of the bath are tall enough to block Seokmin from the mirror’s view too. This is a rather…awkward position to be caught in.

“I swear I heard something…” The stranger mutters, voice clear enough despite the distortion of the mirror that you can tell he’s in the bathroom. “Maybe I should stop drinking energy drinks at midnight.” 

“He does what?” Seokmin whispers appalled against your skin. 

You don’t know if you should laugh, shove him away from your sensitive skin or pull him closer encouragingly. You decide to do none of the above, both because you don’t know how to react and because you really don’t want to get caught like this by the stranger.

“Whatever, guess I’ll just go to bed,” the man mutters before noisily leaving the room in a way entirely opposite to how he had entered. 

It feels like he made himself heavy footed and closed the door so audibly on purpose, so when Seokmin starts to move, you hold him tighter to keep him still. 

Thankfully, Seokmin listens to your silent demand and fits himself as close to you as possible, where he remains perfectly still except for the rise and fall of his torso as he breathes carefully to not risk his back rising too much. 

Each breath blows hotly over your neck and honestly, you want to scream. It’s too much to have the attractive man so close; you’re pretty sure you can feel his flaccid dick pressed between your bodies and it’s taking everything in you to not focus on that.

“Fuck,” the stranger curses under his breath after what feels like hours of being laid there. It must’ve only been a minute or so though, you don’t imagine he would waste so much time on trying to catch what he must assume is a ghost in his bathroom. 

This time, the open and consequent close of the door is at a much more believable level and you assume the man has given up and actually gone to bed this time. 

Still, you wait, counting out 3 minutes in your head before you loosen your hold on Seokmin. 

Slowly, he lifts his head out of the gap beside your neck and tentatively pushes up to cautiously peer over the edge of the bath to the mirror. When he lets out a breath of relief, you know that the coast is clear.

“He’s going to be tricky,” Seokmin comments, keeping his voice quiet as he looks back down at you. 

“Did you happen to notice where the mirror is in the bedroom?” 

“No.” 

“Me neither,” you frown a little. “We can’t risk it, even opening the door could be seen if the mirror is in the right place.” 

“So, we stay in the bathroom forever?” 

“I imagine he will leave the bathroom door open at some point and hopefully we can figure out where he is or hear him leave the bedroom so we can sneak out then.” 

“Isn’t the whole house full of mirrors?” 

“Don’t remind me,” you complain, prodding at his waist, making him jerk and let out a truly disturbing sound from the sudden ticklish jab. It probably says a lot about how long you two have been around each other that you don’t even react to the sound anymore, and he doesn’t get embarrassed about it like he used to.

Sometimes, you do genuinely wonder how long you have been stuck together now. How many days you’ve spent side by side sharing space in a way you never have with anyone before. You really don’t think you’ve ever developed such a deep connection with anyone before. You don’t think you will again either.

But mostly, you try not to think about how the world keeps spinning without you, and the fact that the world could end and you might not even notice for decades if you don’t go to the right lit places. 

You’ve never let Seokmin in on that thought process though, you don’t think he would be able to handle that potential truth.

“So, bathtub sleepover?” Seokmin grins, as if this doesn’t even bother him. 

It’s strange how such a soft man can be so unperturbed by things like this. You do wonder what kind of a life he lived before this to let so much just roll off his back, but you don’t ask about it. You don’t want to remind the sweet man of all he has been forced to leave behind thanks to you. 

Seokmin has cried and broken down in front of you before, somewhat regularly at the start when he would remember something; a schedule he’s been forced to miss, or a memory prompted by something you pass or interact with. And every single time as you held him and listened to him sob his broken heart out, yours shattered too. 

You think your heart has ached more for him than it ever has your own loss. You think it hurt worse seeing him cry that first time than any of the times an incantation had failed and you realised you’re still stuck here for however much longer. 

At first, you hadn’t tried hard, or at all, to entertain Seokmin or play along with his games, but now you’ll go along with anything he wants if it keeps him smiling. You never want to see him so broken again. Watching him cry even once, is one time too many.

Lee Seokmin deserves nothing but good things and you’ll do everything in your power to try and hold yourself to that silent, secret promise to make him happy for the rest of your lives.

“Bathtub sleepover,” you agree with a simple nod.

Together, you shuffle around until you’re laid on your sides against the porcelain and facing one another. 

Not for the first time, you’re struck by how beautiful Seokmin is as you lay there looking at one another. It’s a dangerous position to be in. You usually don’t face each other for very long like this because you don’t trust yourself to not act on the way your heart feels so full of love for this man yet beats harder against your ribs as if trying to shove you closer to him with every thud. 

Yet when you find yourself inches from Seokmin, it’s not because of your own actions.

Seokmin has moved closer to you until your legs are tangled and his left palm is hovering so close to your cheek that you can practically feel his touch already. 

A soft murmur of your name follows, blows over your lips like an unspoken question. Like an answer, you tilt your chin upwards, lessening that little gap between your faces. He lets out a shaky breath of relief before tilting in and kissing you softly. 

His hand gently lands on your cheek to allow his fingers to curve against the shape of you and hold you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched. 

It feels like a lot. Like almost too much. Like that rapid thudding of your heart is trying to send the words you’ve been holding in your chest out of your throat and into the air between you. You kiss him harder to stop them from flowing.

In return, Seokmin’s hand holds you tighter, his legs curl to tug you that bit closer as he presses against you and teases your mouth open easily with his to flit his tongue out in search of your own.

The mirror world is perpetually at room temperature, it never gets hot or cold, but right now you think you could burn up if not for the natural cool of the porcelain pressed against your back as he urges closer and traps you there between his heated body and the bath.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” Seokmin curses amongst heavy breaths as he suddenly pulls back with his eyes squeezed tightly closed. 

You can only stare at him dumbly, utterly dazed by the way he had kissed you as if trying to devour you entirely in the most incredible of ways. 

Slowly, you both gather your breath back. 

Seokmin shuffles back, giving you space again as his eyes flutter open to peer at you with uncertainty. “I’m sorry,” he apologises softly.

“What? Why?” 

“For…kissing you like that.” 

“Did I push you away?”

“I backed you against the side, I-” 

“Seok,” you interrupt, and scoot closer to take his face into your hands. He looks at you with round eyes, some of his nerves melting away at your tender touch. “You did nothing I didn’t like, except move away.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Mm, I’d tell you if you do anything I don’t like.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” you nod and seal it with a sweet kiss that makes Seokmin smile at you when you settle back down and put your arm around his waist. “You’ll tell me too, yeah?” 

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees. “Lift your head.” You do as he asked, even if you don’t understand why. Though it makes sense when he moves his right arm out from between your bodies to lay across the gap where your head was a moment ago, allowing you to use his bicep as a pillow. “I’ve always wanted to hold you like this.” 

“Take this as permission that you can, whenever you want,” you hum as you curl up against him and tangle your legs back together while your eyes shut. “I like cuddling.” 

“I like you.” Your eyes blow wide open, and you look at him. “What? You think I kiss any woman I meet in the mirror like that?” He scoffs a teasing laugh. 

“Maybe, I don’t know what you got up to before meeting me.” 

“You never ask.” 

“I don’t want to remind you of what you lost because of me.” 

Seokmin’s smile is understanding as he leans down to kiss you softly. “It was my choice. I wanted to help you, and it didn’t work, it’s not your fault. I’ve never blamed you for me being stuck here, Sunshine.” 

“I haven’t even tried to figure it out, I gave up trying to find a way out,” you admit in a voice so soft it could almost be considered a whisper. 

“You don’t want to go back?” He looks at you confusedly. “I thought you did?” 

“It’s been a long time for me, Seokie, I don’t know how long, but things have changed in the real world. I’ve seen technology change so much since I’ve been stuck here. It’s not a world I know anymore. I have nothing left out there.” 

“You’ll have me.” 

“It could just be a year or so for you, maybe less, you might still have a life to go back to.” 

“And I’ll take you with me,” he promises, talking a little firmer when you open your mouth to retort. “I want you by my side when we go back. You’re my Sunshine, you make me happy-” 

“If you start singing that song,” you warn, giving him a stern look that makes him giggle.

“I wasn’t going to. I was just stating facts. You do make me happy, and I can’t imagine living without you. When we go back out there, we’ll be together, okay? I’m not going to abandon you for my old life. I want to make a new life with you, okay?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“More sure than I have ever been about anything. I…I love you and it’s okay if you don’t love me back, I can wait. Or…well I love you and I’ll accept whatever you’re willing to give me.” 

“You’re so fucking stupid.” 

“Thanks,” he deadpans. “That’s exactly what I want to hear when I declare my love for the first time to the only woman I’ve said those words to and know I won’t to anyone else.”

“Seriously? You’ve never loved anyone before?” 

“Not like this. If we were out there, I’m pretty sure I’d have bought an engagement ring ages ago.” 

“So fucking stupid,” you reiterate desperately, before kissing him in the same way. Seokmin makes a surprised noise yet quickly melts against you, gripping a fistful of your t-shirt at your back as you press close to one another. 

“Giving me mixed messages,” he murmurs dazedly when you pull apart and look at one another. “You can’t call me stupid for loving you then kiss me like…like you…” 

“I didn’t call you stupid for loving me, I think that’s very wise, a great decision to love the person who would do everything possible to make you happy because they’re so fucking in love with you-” you’re cut off by Seokmin surging in to kiss you with the same desperation you had kissed him with a minute ago. 

“You love me?” He rushes out, during a quick break he creates in the kiss, yet doesn’t give you the chance to answer as he slots his lips back against yours.

With the passion Seokmin kisses you, you understandably assume things are going to develop and clothes fly off. Yet when you slide your hand under his t-shirt and barely get to feel his toned stomach, he turns his head out of the kiss and grabs your hand to still your movements. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask confused. 

“Not like this,” he replies, fluttering his eyes open as he turns his head back to look at you, now leaned up a little so that you can peer at one another comfortably. 

“Then don’t kiss me like that!” You complain and remove your hands from him entirely to cross over your chest. “I thought you want to fuck me and got excited for nothing.” 

“I do, I do, like so much. Seriously, Sunshine, I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long,” he assures so seriously that you believe him, and can’t help but giggle at how serious he is while talking about wanting to have sex with you. 

“Then why not now?” 

“I really don’t want our first time to be in a bathtub, babe,” he chuckles, and shuffles back to create a less heated gap between you, where he settles and tugs you in to cuddle. “Once we get out of this bathroom, we’ll go find a nice bed where I can lay you down and worship you like you deserve.” 

“Seok…” you murmur shyly, before tilting your head up to kiss his jaw softly. “You’re too good for me.” 

“Nah, I think I’m just right for you, Goldilocks.” 

It must be the next day when you wake to the muffled sound of the shower running. Carefully, you wriggle out of Seokmin’s hold and roll over to peer over the top of the bath. 

The mirror on the opposite wall is big enough that at this angle, you can catch sight of the shower and a male figure blissfully unaware under the water with his back to the mirror. 

Knowing that this is your chance, you turn over and put a hand over Seokmin’s mouth so that he doesn’t make a loud sound as you nudge him awake. His resulting snuffle is muffled so well under your palm that you barely catch it. 

He looks blearily offended at being woken up, but when you signal him to be quiet as you remove your hand from his mouth, he understands and nods to show as much.

One of you always keeps watch on the mirror as the two of you manoeuvre out of the tub silently, and then out of the bathroom. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you breathe out as the two of you walk further into the lit master bedroom. 

Seokmin makes a noise of agreement, then tugs you in to kiss sweetly. “Good morning, Sunshine.” 

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Seokmin’s eyes round out at the pet-name and he gives you such a soft, adoring look that you find yourself kissing him before you’ve even registered it. A self-preservation instinct to prevent yourself from melting into a pile of goo from the loving expression of the man who owns your heart, soul, and ass.

There must be some residual tension in you both, left over from your tryst in the tub however many hours ago it was. Although the kiss started innocently enough, it doesn’t last long and you both get lost in the feeling of the other’s mouth as hands travel with interest over one another.

All thoughts of the man in the shower completely leave your mind. All you can think about is Seokmin and how you want to feel his mouth and hands all over you.

Clearly, Seokmin has the same thoughts in mind, because in no time at all, you’re at the edge of the bed with your top and bra somewhere on the floor behind where the man is kneeling before you and working on removing all of your clothing.

Of course, you’ll be damned if you don’t even the score; as soon as he’s got you naked and tries to lean down between your thighs, you reach out and tug on his t-shirt. Seokmin isn’t shy at all about yanking the material off of his torso and once you can see his beautiful, toned body, you understand why he didn’t hesitate.

“Well, shit,” you murmur, dragging your hungry gaze over his skin.

“Mm, can I taste you now?” Comes his distracted reply, eyes glued between your thighs with nothing but pure desire in his dark eyes.

“Get naked first.”

“Fully naked?” He lifts his head just enough to peer at you mostly through his lashes. “Can I keep my boxers on for now?”

“Why?”

“I want to focus on you but I get distracted when my dick’s out,” he admits sheepishly. “I’ll think it’s time to fuck you but I want to make you cum on my tongue first.”

“Well, I can’t reasonably say no to that,” you muse and hook your fingers under the waistband of his jeans to pull him closer. “C’mere.”

Seokmin doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s more than happy to crowd up against your front to kiss you while your hands work on his button and zipper. He helps you shove the denim down his thighs, which are way thicker than you had realised.

The reveal makes you stare at him dumbly as he sits on his butt to shimmy the material off of his legs in a frankly awkward looking manoeuvre. It says a lot for how attractive the man is, and perhaps how whipped you are for him, that even the ungraceful flapping of his legs to kick off his jeans and toe of his socks, doesn’t dampen your arousal at all.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” He questions upon getting back on his knees and facing you, only to realise that you’re staring at him with widened eyes and mouth parted in shock.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” you reply almost breathlessly. “How are you real? Did I make you up for company after being stuck in here so long?” You touch his chest and marvel at how solid his heated skin is under your palms. “This is a very vivid hallucination.”

“Baby,” he chuckles shyly while putting his hands over yours to press your hands flat to his skin. “I’m real, you’re real, this is real.”

“Fuck.”

“You okay?”

You lift your gaze from staring at his body to look into his utterly adoring gaze that is already locked on you. “I am never letting you leave me.”

Seokmin’s cheeks bunch as he smiles at you all big and genuinely happy. “I’m never going to want to.”

“Good.” You slide your hands out from under his to flow down his body, trace over his abs and around his waist to pull him as close as possible with your hands firm against his lower back. Seokmin makes a surprised, yet very happy and interested, sound at your actions before his lips are back on yours and filled with a new layer of hunger.

When you’re both breathing heavily and the kiss breaks, he starts a trail of heavy kisses down your neck, stopping to tongue over the swell of your breasts from between them as he pushes them in closer either side of his face so that he only has to turn his head and adjust a little to give both attention.

Though he doesn’t stay there long, the man is on a mission he is determined to succeed in. His path travels lower and you lean back on your palms to give him easier access to worship your stomach with his mouth.

Obviously, it’s been a long time for you, but you’re very certain that nobody has ever taken the time to give your body so much attention like this, not without it being a means to an end. But this, this certainly isn’t a partner building you up ready to fuck.

This is a man who is taking his time to love on every inch of your precious body because he wants to, because he enjoys doing it and showing you how beautiful he finds you without words.

If possible, you think you fall a little more in love with Seokmin with every press of his adoring, attentive lips to your skin. If your breath wasn’t already hitching and chest stuttering with the mix of intense arousal and love for this man, you would tell him those three words you know he’s pressing into your skin.

Perhaps that’s why you feel so full of love for him right now; he’s filling you with so much of his own that yours is overflowing and wanting to spill out to him. Like a never-ending feedback circle. You think that doesn’t sound so bad. A never-ending love with Lee Seokmin sounds pretty wonderful, actually.

The words are about to fly free from your mouth when his lips press against your clit and your eyes fly wide in surprise. You hadn’t even realised you had closed your eyes, or that his head is now between your thighs; you had been too caught up in the sensation of being loved and doted on so thoroughly.

“I love you,” you blurt, making Seokmin freeze in surprise at the sudden declaration. Which immediately makes you laugh because he has his tongue halfway out of his mouth with clearly every intention of swiping it against you. “You’re so cute.”

“What?” He garbles out around his still poked tongue, then abruptly pulls it back into his mouth looking a little embarrassed, though he quickly smiles at you and presses a kiss to your stomach just above your belly button. “I love you too, Sunshine. Now stop distracting me, I have important things to do.”

“Sorry, I’ll keep my love to myself from now on,” you retort playfully, and nudge his shoulder with your thigh.

“Good,” he jokes back. You nudge him again only to gasp loudly and fly one hand out to his head when he latches his mouth to your inner thigh in retaliation. He bites first, not too hard but hard enough that you know there will be a minor mark left behind. And then, he sucks on your flesh until you know without even looking that there will be a massive bruise left behind. It’s just a shame it won’t last.

Things kind of blur together after that. A haze of pleasure caused by a sinfully exquisite mouth licking and sucking your thighs and pussy; greedily slurping up every drop of arousal that drips out of you and smearing it against his chin and cheeks almost on purpose as if he’s trying to fucking bathe in it. But you barely notice that.

At some point, you drop onto your back against the mattress due to the intensity of pleasure running through your body thanks to the man between your thighs, who you are genuinely starting to think must be some kind of sex god based on his incredible physique and skill.

You don’t realise you’re on your back until your eyes flutter open with every intention of tilting your head down to look at Seokmin, you just know he has to look like sin personified right now. But you don’t get the chance.

As soon as your eyes are open, you find the mirror and spot the dark eyes staring intently at you from the other side.

You shriek and sit up, all but shoving Seokmin away in your rush to get your naked body off of the bed and out of the mirror’s view.

“What? What is it?” Seokmin asks, not even offended and instead looking more worried by your reaction. “Is it a spider?” He pales a little.

“I found the mirror,” you whisper, crouched a little to his side with your arms around your body as if the man in the real world can see you at this angle. But he had been reclined on his bed staring up at you enraptured. “Wait, that pervert!” You grab Seokmin’s t-shirt to yank over your head as its closest, then crawl onto the bed to glare up at the huge mirror fixed on the ceiling.

The man is still laid there with nothing but a towel around his waist, though he has one hand over his crotch, over the obvious bulge of his erection and you’re pretty sure it’s not out of any kind of shame.

“You were watching us!” You accuse, pointing up at him.

“If you don’t want me to watch, don’t have sex in my mirror,” he retorts simply, as if it’s so normal in his life to look up when laid in bed and see something in his mirror other than his own reflection. Then again, the man has a mirror above his bed, you’re pretty sure the guy lives a life very different to the one you lived pre-mirror. Mostly, you think he’s a giant fucking sexual deviant.

“We’re not in your mirror, pervert.”

“Looks it to me.” He shrugs and adjusts his position a little to bend one leg up, planting the flat of his foot casually on the mattress. It makes the towel blissfully hide his erection as the material slides down his thigh to bunch. You’re just glad it’s still long enough to hide what’s underneath from view.

You do not want to see this guy’s dick, no matter how generally attractive he is.

“If you’re not in my mirror, where are you?”

“A mirror world,” you answer simply, not seeing any harm in telling him that. He seems genuinely curious and something tells you to humour him at least a little.

“What’re you doing there?”

“Having a great time until you interrupted,” Seokmin grumbles from where he’s still on the floor at the edge of the bed, but now he’s got his arms folded on the mattress and head laid on them so he can look at you and the mirror.

The man looks over to Seokmin in the reflection as if he hadn’t even noticed him until now. Then again, he hadn’t moved his intense gaze from you at all so you’re not surprised. “So, I saw.”

“Hey!” Seokmin darts up onto the bed to stand in front of you and point threateningly up at the mirror. He’s still just in his boxers so the backs of his essentially bare thighs are right in your face and you can’t help but stare. They’re so thick and distracting. “That’s my girlfriend! Keep your eyes to yourself, pervert!”

“Relax, man, not like I can do more than touch, and I wouldn’t do that without her consent anyway.”

“Which she wouldn’t give; she’s in love with me,” Seokmin sounds so proud of that fact that you’re successfully pulled away from ogling his thighs to instead tilt your head back to peer up at the back of him with a smile.

You have no idea how you got so lucky to have the most precious man to have ever exist get himself stuck with you, and then fall in love with you, but you’re certainly glad about it. Not the stuck part, just the love and luck part.

“Sit down,” you giggle, tugging on Seokmin’s hips until he relents and drops down onto the bed in front of you while still glaring warningly up at the mirror. You wrap your arms around his waist and stretch your legs out either side of his. Seokmin gives the man in the mirror a smug look.

“You two look good together,” the man comments easily, mindlessly tracing his fingers over his lower stomach at the edge of his towel.

“Your erection already told us that,” you deadpan.

“That was because of you,” he informs shamelessly. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”

“She is and she’s mine,” Seokmin reiterates, making the man roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not fucking stupid, I got that. I’m just paying a compliment, chill the fuck out, man.”

“Alright, you two, enough,” you scold them both gently, and press a kiss to Seokmin’s temple when he pouts at being told off. The soft kiss does its job and wipes the pout away, a content little smile replacing it on his lips.

“Did you die in my house or something?” The man asks, making you look back up at him. “Isn’t that how it works? You get stuck where you died?”

“We’re not dead,” Seokmin informs.

“What? You’re not ghosts?” The man looks genuinely disappointed, making you huff out a laugh. “Then what the fuck are you?” He’s almost pouting. Definitely sulking as he drops his leg down and crosses his arms over his chest while slouching further down against his pillows.

“Living humans,” Seokmin retorts, then turns his head to side eye you questioningly. You’re not sure when you two developed this silent communication to this degree exactly, but you know what he’s asking you without words and nod simply in permission. Seokmin looks back up at the mirror. “Well, she’s a witch.”

That makes the man perk up a little. “A witch? Really?” You nod in confirmation. “Do you know any ghosts?”

“Do you know any ghosts?” You retort with a scoff. “What makes you think I know any ghosts just because I’m a witch?”

“Just thought that, you know, supernatural beings…”

“What? You think we all know each other? Gather once a month for the monthly supernatural beings meeting?”

“I was just asking,” the man grumbles, once again pouting a little.

For a man who so confidently and shamelessly palmed his erection while watching you in the mirror not even ten minutes ago, he really seems to pout childishly a lot.

“Do you know any ghosts?” Seokmin takes the chance to turn his head to whisper to you.

“Oh, yeah,” you confirm just as quietly, making him giggle as he turns back around and leans happily back against your chest. “You seem very into ghosts,” you comment loudly to the man who peers back at you, lips still protruding a little.

“I’ve wanted to meet one for a long time,” he admits.

“Is that why your house is full of mirrors?” You muse, Seokmin looks very confused even if he remains quiet. “You hope you’ll trap a ghost in one, right?”

“I can’t tell if the fact you know that theory means it’s true or we’ve just been on the same websites,” he mutters.

“What’s a website?” You ask Seokmin in a whisper.

“Internet,” he answers just as quietly, to keep your conversation private. “I’ll show you when we get out. Maybe this guy can help, you can make a deal to introduce him to a ghost, bet he’ll at least try to help.”

“You may just be right there, sweetheart.” You hum thoughtfully as you look at the man above you for a few long seconds. “What if I can potentially help you out?” You offer.

“Help me out? By helping me meet a ghost?” The man asks and sits up abruptly, eyes wide in eagerness when you nod. “What do I need to do in return? I have money and I’ll let you fuck in all my mirrors without even looking and-”

“Alright, calm down ghost boy,” you snicker amusedly at the pure excitement on the man, he looks about two seconds from vibrating out of his skin and offering you his very soul in return for helping him meet a ghost. “Nothing like that, you help us and we’ll help you, no money or goods exchanged. Though you will need to get some supplies.”

“Yeah, sure…wait, you’re not going to like, sacrifice me or something, are you?”

Both you and Seokmin laugh.

“No,” you assure, shaking your head a little. “Nothing like that. It won’t hurt you at all, we just need you to perform a spell for us.”

“Yeah, sure,” he agrees easily. It would remind you of Seokmin’s own easy agreement however long ago, if it wasn’t for the fact this man doesn’t seem anywhere near as innocent and pure as Seokmin. Then again, you don’t think anyone is.

“Can we move to another mirror? this is really starting to hurt my neck,” Seokmin requests, already sitting up straight to roll his head around and stretch his neck.

“Mm, yeah,” you agree, so Seokmin gets off of the bed and starts to gather your clothes tossed over the floor while you look back at the man above you. “Is there a more reasonably placed mirror in this place?”

“There’s a dressing table in the next room,” the man informs while pointing to his right.

“Alright, meet you there. Put some clothes on though,” you suggest, though based on your firm expression, it’s not really a request, before you climb off of the bed.

“Fine.” You hear him mumble in response even if you’re no longer in front of the mirror.

“You look good in my shirt, by the way,” Seokmin murmurs to you when you’re on your feet in front of him where he’s already in his jeans and is fastening them.

“Maybe I should keep it then,” you suggest playfully.

“Is this you saying you want me to walk around topless?” He gasps theatrically and covers his nipples with his fingers, making you snort on a laugh. He breaks at the sound and laughs too while dropping his arms.

“If you were topless all the time, we’d only ever be doing one thing,” you give him a significant look that makes his lips twitch into a little smirk. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen him smirk, and you’re pretty sure that he could make you do an insane number of things with that single look.

“That doesn’t sound so bad, doesn’t sound bad at all,” he reaches for his waistband, ready to remove the clothes he had just put back on.

“I can hear you two, you know!” The man’s exclamation makes both you and Seokmin jump before sharing a look, then giggling. “Can’t you keep your hands off of each other for five minutes so we can stick to our deal?”

“Sorry, pervert,” Seokmin calls sweetly.

The man sighs heavily. “My name is Wonwoo.”

Although Wonwoo eagerly runs off as soon as he’s copied the list you show him in the dressing table mirror to enthusiastically collect everything on it, it’s a few days before he attempts the incantation purely because it’s a few days before you show it to him.

After the last time that it went wrong, you know the previous version needed some work, and now that you have Seokmin at your side to think about, you really want to take time to mull over the spell and think through every step and syllable to get it right.  

And perhaps you did get distracted a few times by Seokmin sprawled over the bed keeping himself occupied with the items Wonwoo leaves in there once Seokmin asks him to decorate the spare room with something other than mirrors, even if Seokmin had called Wonwoo a pervert again.

Though Wonwoo had kept to his word and hasn’t spied on you two again, in fact he doesn’t even enter the spare room unless one of you has appeared to him in another mirror to request his presence. Maybe he’s not as much as a pervert as you both initially thought. Or maybe he just rates meeting a ghost more important than his voyeurism.

When you think you’ve got the incantation right after working over the spell so many times even Seokmin can recite it from memory in his sleep, you find Wonwoo in the lounge. The TV is on in front of him but he’s glued to his laptop and as the mirror is on the wall behind the couch, you can see the screen.

You don’t really know exactly what he’s doing, typing and looking somewhat intense, but you catch the big letters on the screen like a title; GFA.

“What’s that?” You ask curiously. Wonwoo immediately shrieks and flings himself off of the couch with his laptop. He hits his hip on the coffee table and knocks over his can of energy drink, but it is almost empty so even though it tips fully, only a few drops fly out before he manages to right it.

“Don’t sneak up one me!” He accuses, pointing a finger at you while closing his laptop with the other hand and sliding it suspiciously under the table.

“I would accuse you of watching porn but one, that was all writing and two, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t care if I caught you masturbating to sex videos.”

“Masturbating is nothing to be ashamed of and I’m not ashamed of my body or preferences so if you happen to see that, I don’t care.”

“Fair enough,” you shrug and lift the paper in your hand while climbing up onto the couch on your knees to press the sheet against the glass. Wonwoo scrambles over, kneeling on his couch to read the writing.

“I’m still very impressed that you can write backwards,” he comments offhandedly, flicking his gaze to you past the paper then back again.

“I’ve had a lot of time to develop useless talents.”

“It won’t be useless if this works. I’m pretty sure I’d mess up if you wrote normally and I had to try to reflect the words myself.”

“Mm, suppose.” You shrug. “Aren’t you going to copy it down?”

“Ah, right.” He nods in agreement, then wanders off to pick up a notepad from the side unit and a pen before returning. He stands there on the other side of the couch, pad resting on one hand as he routinely glances between it and the mirror to diligently copy the entire spell down. “What language is this?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, just curious.”

“Not one you need to worry yourself about. You won’t encounter it again.”

“It’s a dead language?”

“Not exactly, just not used by humans.”

“Ah, a supernatural language. Does each supernatural species have their own language?”

“What am I? An encyclopaedia?” Wonwoo pauses in his writing to look at you curiously. “What?”

“Just weird you say that.”

“How? Loads of people say that.”

“Most people now have never touched an encyclopaedia unless for a special interest.”

“What? But they’re so useful and full of knowledge!” You gawp. “How do you get all that information?”

“Google.”

“I don’t know anyone with that name.”

Wonwoo cracks a lopsided grin. “You’re really old, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Wow!” He grins brighter and climbs onto the couch to get closer, even if there’s no way he can actually reach you, still, you back up as much as you can without moving your hand from the mirror. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“And how long have you been twenty-six?”

“Since my twenty-sixth birthday,” you deadpan. “Just copy the fucking spell, pervert.”

“Alright, grandma.”

“I swear when I’m out of here, I’m going to choke you,” you warn, though immediately backpedal at the slight glint you notice in his eyes. “No wait, forget that; you’d probably like it.”

“Yeah,” he agrees so shamelessly that it makes you laugh. He grins at you, pleased at making you laugh, then focuses on copying down the rest of the spell.

“Aw, did you make it all romantic for us?” Seokmin coos as the pair of you enter Wonwoo’s bedroom and find that he’s lit a bunch of candles around the room and at the base of the mirror, which he had moved from the entrance hall wall and into here to prop against the wall at the foot of his bed.

Other than the mirror on his ceiling, this mirror is the biggest in the apartment even if it only reaches his chest. Still, it’s much better than trying to climb through anything smaller. You appreciate the effort.

“The guy in the store said I should get them, said they’d be useful to me,” Wonwoo answers where he’s kneeling in front of the mirror and focused on setting up the items around him.

You and Seokmin kneel in front of the mirror, and you smile as Seokmin tells Wonwoo where to put everything based on how you had told him when he performed the spell. You’re surprised he remembers so well; you really hadn’t expected him to even recall the ingredients used for the spell, yet he still seems to remember it all somehow.

“Alright, that’s everything,” Wonwoo announces when he’s done arranging it all and leans back to sit heavier on his feet and plant his hands on his thighs while lifting his gaze to look at you. “I just need to read the spell now, right?”

“Pretty much,” you confirm and shuffle a little in place. “Put one hand on the mirror as you read it so the magic flows into the right object.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo shuffles closer and puts his left hand to the mirror as he picks up the paper with his right.

“Don’t lean on it though,” Seokmin quickly warns. “Trust me.”

Wonwoo gives Seokmin a questioning look yet doesn’t say a word and just nods, lightening his palm against the glass a little before he focuses on the paper. “Ready?”

As soon as you and Seokmin have both agreed, Wonwoo takes a breath then starts to read.

Even though you have no access to magic and magic cannot enter the mirror world, you can feel it growing with every word Wonwoo speaks.

“It’s working,” you whisper awed, gripping Seokmin’s hand tighter in your own. Seokmin doesn’t respond other than lifting your connected hands up to place a kiss right where your fingers are laced together.

As Wonwoo recites the words, the glass shimmers while magic layers over it, before it melts away and the slight breeze of Wonwoo’s fan reaches you both. Seokmin gasps softly and holds your hands closer to his mouth.

By all means, it looks as if the spell is working and perfectly too. Wonwoo’s hand hovers in midair, though you can see a pressure against his skin showing that in the real world, the glass still exists.

There are still a few lines of the spell left so you sit very still in wait, as if any slight movement will ruin Wonwoo’s concentration or the spell, and this will once again fail.

Yet when Wonwoo finishes talking and looks at you, you still don’t move. “Aren’t you coming through?” He asks confusedly and slowly lowers his hand as if dragging it down the glass, but there’s nothing there and his fingers slip through into the mirror world.

“He’s not getting pulled through,” Seokmin whispers with wide eyes that he quickly turns on you. “That-that means we can go through, right?”

“I…I guess so,” you confirm and nod a little. “You first.”

“What? No, together,” he argues, turning to face you better with a frown on his face. “We’ll do it together, Sunshine.”

“It’s better to go one at a time. Wonwoo isn’t a witch, he has limited magic so we can’t say it will be strong enough to pass through together and I’d rather you go through first, Seok.”

“That makes no sense, you’re a witch! You could just magic me through if it closes between us! I’m just human, I can’t do that!”

“You can recast the spell in Wonwoo’s place.”

“I messed it up last time, I can’t-”

“I trust you, now go before it shuts with us both here.” You pull your hand from his and try to push him to the mirror.

“No, baby, you go-” Before Seokmin can argue anymore, you shove him backwards at the same time Wonwoo grabs the back of his t-shirt and yanks Seokmin through the mirror.

The pair tumble to the floor heavily, displacing items and breaking the only black candle in the room. Instantly, the mirror closes back up.

“No!” Seokmin yells, darting forward to run his hands over the glass and frame of the mirror as if he’ll find a secret compartment to open the doorway back up.

“Shit,” Wonwoo curses as he yanks his jumper sleeve over his hand to smack out the little fire on the carpet from the candle. Luckily, it goes out easily and Wonwoo picks the candle up to inspect carefully while Seokmin rushes to set all the other ingredients back up.

“Get another candle,” Seokmin orders, glancing at Wonwoo with eyes shining with the threat of tears.

“I can’t.”

Seokmin immediately whirls on Wonwoo, eyes wide and frantic. “What do you mean you can’t?!” He demands, reaching out to snatch the broken candle from Wonwoo’s hands, which he desperately tries to fix. “We can’t do the spell without this kind of candle!”

“The store is closed, it’s 1am, Seokmin.”

“When does it open?” Seokmin’s head snaps up to look at Wonwoo, not even trying to stop the tears that start to trickle down his cheeks. “We need to go as soon as it opens, Wonwoo! We can’t leave her in there! She’s been stuck there for so long!”

“I know, I know,” Wonwoo soothes, reaching out to hold Seokmin by his shoulders. “We’ll go first thing, okay? We’ll get her out tomorrow, I promise.”

“You mean it?” Seokmin sniffles and Wonwoo nods, offering his pinkie. Shakily, Seokmin removes one hand from the candle to link his pinkie with Wonwoo’s to seal the deal. He wipes his face dry on the back of his arm before he faces you with a watery smile. “We’ll get you out tomorrow, baby, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree softly and offer a soft smile that Seokmin returns.

An hour later, you watch the two men fall asleep on Wonwoo’s bed, exhausted from the magic, and change of atmosphere in Seokmin’s case. Yet even as you lay there staring up at the mirror on the ceiling above you, counting the rise and fall of Seokmin’s chest to try and lull yourself, you don’t sleep at all.

“We should make a habit of this,” you comment where you’re sitting on the counter beside the sink in Wonwoo’s en-suite and facing the mirror where you can see Seokmin enjoying his first shower in potentially years. And you are enjoying the sight of your naked boyfriend’s skin pinkening in the heat of the shower as water trails down his body and glistens in all his delicious dips and curves.

“What?” Seokmin peers over his shoulder at you and squints to protect his eyes from the water. “You want to shower together?”

“That’d be nice, but I just mean watching you shower,” you answer honestly and let your gaze obviously drag up and down his body.

“Baby,” he chuckles, partly shy and partly scolding. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I’ll get hard.”

“And?” You smirk and lean back on your palms behind you at the edge of the counter.

You know that if Seokmin was in the room with you, he’d panic over the position and make you sit upright so you don’t risk toppling backwards. But there’s a mirror separating you and steam fogging up his side of the glass enough that he can’t clearly see you anyway.

“Put on a little show for me, huh, sweetheart?” You suggest with a smirk.

“I don’t think Wonwoo would like me jerking off in his shower.”

“Think of it as getting back at him for watching us.”

Seokmin makes a considering face before abruptly turning to face the mirror, and then drag his hand over his abs down towards his hardening cock.

Just as he gets his hand around it, dark gaze locked on you through the glass, there’s loud knocking at the door making him shriek in surprise and you groan in annoyance.

You can’t clearly make out what Wonwoo says on the other side of the door thanks to the noise of the shower echoing through the mirror, but Seokmin can and responds in an affirmative before he looks at you. “Wonwoo’s back.”

“Yes, I got that, baby,” you tease. “Unless he found a ghost all on his own.”

“Right,” he grins sheepishly. “He’s setting everything up.”

“Okay,” you swing around to jump off of the counter.

Seokmin whines when you start to walk away so you backstep and look at him. “You’re leaving me?” He pouts at you.

“I’ll see you in a minute,” you giggle. “And then a little after that, I’ll be kissing your pretty face.”

“Not if I kiss you first,” he jokes, winking at you and consequently somehow getting water in his eye. “Ow!”

You wait until Seokmin is no longer whining and fussing over his eye before you exit the bathroom and sit in front of the mirror to watch Wonwoo check over everything.

“Wonwoo,” you call softly so he looks up at you. He had heard you sit down, heard the faint rustle of your clothing through the mirror but he had been too focused to greet you, not that you much care. “Will you cast it?”

“What? Me?” His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I thought Seokmin was going to?”

“That was last night when you had already cast it once. You’ve rested and eaten since then so you have the energy back.”

“Okay, but why not Seokmin? Is he not strong enough or something?”

“He’s plenty strong enough, I just… I’m not sure what condition I will be in once I step through. I’ve had no magic for so long, been stuck in this world for so long that I’m not sure how the real world will affect me anymore.”

“Like…badly?”

“It won’t kill me, but it might hurt. I…I’ve done a lot of questionable spells in my life that have left marks on me, marks that were very painful to gain in the first place so I can’t imagine regaining all of that feeling all at once will be particularly pleasant.”

“Oh, no, I suppose not,” Wonwoo murmurs. “You don’t want him to see you like that.”

“It’s not that, I imagine it’ll be inevitable that he sees it, but I just don’t want him to feel responsible for whatever happens, any pain I may feel once I’m there.”

“Ah, I see.” He nods in understanding. “I can cast it. Is there anything I need to do before then, to prepare for when you’re back? To help?”

“There isn’t time to prepare for any eventualities, just if any fires appear, throw sugar on them.”

“Sugar? On fire?”

“Fire sprites love sugar.”

“Fire sprites, cool, right.” Wonwoo nods absently, absorbing the words, before he turns his head to the bathroom. “The shower shut off.”

“Let’s do this now.”

Wonwoo only nods once in agreement before his left hand is on the glass and he’s reading from the paper in his right.

Seokmin enters the bedroom with his hair dripping onto the small towel around his bare shoulders and a pair of Wonwoo’s shorts hanging low on his hips when Wonwoo is halfway through the spell. You just smile at him when he walks over with wide eyes, shocked that Wonwoo is reading the spell he thought he was supposed to cast. But he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t want to risk it failing.

As soon as Wonwoo is finished reciting the spell, he reaches through the mirror and you grab his hand. As he pulls, you launch yourself forward while squeezing your eyes closed, just in case.

When your eyes open, you find Wonwoo’s own already open and on you from where he’s laid against the carpet with his right arm around your waist and his left trapped between your bodies with both of yours.

“Hey,” he greets with a lopsided grin.

“Hi,” you reply a little dumbly, then laugh disbelievingly and sit up, uncaring that you’re on his hips. Wonwoo doesn’t seem too bothered by it either and just lets you sit there to take in his bedroom from the real world. “Smells cleaner than I expected for a pervert.”

“Hey!” Wonwoo bats your thigh, though he’s grinning still and not really offended.

“Sunshine,” Seokmin’s soft voice makes you look directly at him. He’s kneeling just outside of the ring of magical ingredients, the black candlestick still burning away and keeping the doorway open.

“One sec,” you speak and clamber off of Wonwoo to blow out the candle and seal your mirror world back up.

You have no idea if you will be able to open the door again now that there’s nothing there; the spell Wonwoo read was designed for living things, not an empty shell, after all. The mirror world could be lost to you now and honestly, you think you’re kind of glad about it.

Though when you turn to face Seokmin with every intention of throwing yourself at your handsome boyfriend, your head starts to spin and your sight goes fuzzy at the edges.

Something must be happening to you outwardly too, because even through the rapidly growing blur, you can clearly make out the panic on Seokmin’s face. You don’t hear him call your name as he darts over to catch you before you hit the floor, but you see his mouth moving to make the syllables.

For a second you fear that the last time he says your name to you will be lost to the buzzing in your ears, but then everything goes black and you’re unable to feel anything anymore.

“Hey,” you know the voice even if it takes you a moment to place it.

“You,” you grumble, turning your head a little.

You hear a gasp and someone yelling in the room, but you can’t make sense of it; your hearing is muffled like you’re underwater.

“So, you’re finally back, huh?” He muses. Even as just a voice projected into your head, you can practically see his amused grin. “About time, I was getting bored.”

You barely make a noise in response and focus on trying to lift your heavy arms in an attempt to rub at your ears and try to displace whatever is blocking your hearing, but you can’t lift your limbs even an inch before having to drop them again.

“I’d take it easy if I were you, kiddo, your magic is unstable so that sweet little witch nurse has put a suppressant on you. Of course, you could easily break it, but then you’d likely lose control and hurt your new boyfriend. I’ll be by to meet him when the time is right, by the way. Gotta play my role right, huh?” He sniggers. “Just relax and let the nurse witch bring you back piece by piece; you’ve been without magic for decades now, you can handle a few more weeks of being weaned back into it. Oh, gotta go, a certain someone’s fluttering for attention. Look after yourself, kiddo, I’ll be around soon enough.”  

You feel the presence in your mind leave and your hearing starts to filter back in.

“Sunshine? Are you awake?” Even dulled around the edges, the sound of Seokmin’s gentle, caring voice has your heart thrumming happily in your chest and your lips tilting up slightly in the start of a smile. “Ah, there she is,” he whispers as your eyes flutter open and land on him where he’s leaning over the bed from your right, one hand on the beside table to support him and the other holding your hand on your ribs. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Seokmin smiles brighter and sniffles as he sits on the bed at your side and wipes his cheeks yet the tears keep rolling down. “I was so scared I had lost you.”

“Told you, I’m never letting you go,” you remind and squeeze his hand in yours.

He laughs softly and leans over to nuzzle into your cheek before just staying there and breathing you in. You can feel his tears of relief rolling down onto your ear, and it’s a little ticklish, but you don’t try to move him and instead bring your free hand up to run through his messy hair.

“Hey,” Wonwoo’s voice makes you remove your focus from Seokmin and look over to where Wonwoo is standing at the foot of the bed with who must be the nurse witch. At the very least, he’s the only other person here and you can feel the magic in him. But he’s certainly not little like the voice in your head had said.

This guy is taller than Wonwoo and although it’s not by much, the pure breadth of the guy makes him look twice the size of Wonwoo, even if the stranger is slouched a little, making himself look smaller as he smiles politely at you.

“This is Mingyu, we met on a chat site,” Wonwoo introduces.

Before you can question what that is, Seokmin speaks up softly, “Internet thing.”

“He’s a nurse so I called him to come make sure you don’t die on us.”

“Nurse, huh?” You question, raising an eyebrow at Mingyu who grins sheepishly at you. When you raise a questioning eyebrow and purposely push against the containment spell he has on your magic in a way that he’ll sense it and understand what exactly you’re asking, he shakes his head a little, telling you that no Wonwoo does not know that he’s a witch.

It's not your place to out anyone so you just hum and nod in thanks. “Appreciate you coming you help out a stranger, Mingyu, thank you.”

“Of course,” Mingyu replies with a genuine smile. “I’m always happy to help where I can. How are you feeling?”

“Heavy.” Seokmin immediately leans off of you, thinking he’s causing it but you pull him back and hold him until he gets comfortable tucked up against your side with his head on your shoulder and face tucked into your neck, one arm and leg slung around you.

“That should pass, you just need a lot of rest and to take things easy for a while.”

“Mm, okay,” you agree easily.

“I need to get going for my shift now but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? Wonwoo has my number if you need me before then for any reason.” You just nod in understanding so Mingyu turns and leaves with Wonwoo right behind him to walk him out.

“Are you really feeling okay, other than the heavy thing?” Seokmin asks softly a few seconds later.

“Yeah. It’s just my magic returning and my body readjusting to real life.” Something suddenly occurs to you making you inhale sharply and curse, “fuck.”

“What? What is it?” Seokmin leans up onto his elbow to look down at you worriedly.

“Just realised I’m going to have to actually eat, drink and use the toilet again now,” you mutter displeased. Seokmin’s expression turns relieved, understanding that you’re not in pain like he had feared, before he chuckles and settles back down against you. “It’s all so inconvenient.”

“Yeah, I got used to not having to do any of that and Wonwoo keeps reminding me to stay hydrated especially.”

“Bet he loves that,” you joke.

“He says it’s like he’s my dad, except I’m older than him and he’s seen me eating out my girlfriend, so we have a messed-up family.”

“We do,” you agree, making him laugh. “So, I guess that means you know how long since you got stuck with me there?”

“Four years. I should be thirty-one right now, but I’m not.”

“Ah, you can integrate back into your previous life with little issue; the lack of aging for four years isn’t a big deal.”

“Mm, Wonwoo tried getting me to call my family but I’ve been too worried that you wouldn’t wake up. But now you’re awake, I’ll call them and tell them that…I don’t know, I don’t really have a reason for being missing for four years. I don’t want them to think I got kidnapped or something.”

“The alternate is that you willingly left, Seokie.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he sighs heavily and turns his face into your neck.

He surely can’t breathe with how closely he’s tucked in but you leave him to it. A handful of seconds later, he turns his head back around and takes a few big breaths to refill his lungs properly.

“Maybe I can just claim amnesia for the past few years. I went for a walk, fell over and hit my head, and woke up in some stranger’s house unable to remember anything. And that stranger turned out to be the love of my life and now four years later, my memories have returned and I want to introduce her to my family ahead of our wedding.”

“I wasn’t aware you’re getting married, Mr Lee.”

“Mm, told you; I would’ve already bought you an engagement ring by now in the real world and you know, if I’ve not been in some magical alternate world for the past four years, that means I would’ve proposed to my girlfriend ages ago and we’d be planning our wedding.”

“Assuming she’d accept the proposal.”

Seokmin darts up to lean over you with a pout. “You would reject me?”

“Guess you’ll have to get a ring and find out, huh?”

“I will,” he promises, looking so earnestly determined and so, so, so precious that you can’t help but giggle adoringly before tugging him down to kiss. “I love you, Sunshine.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“Will you meet my parents though?”

“In a few weeks once I’m all better,” you agree easily, making him smile.

“Okay, I’ll hold off making the call until then because I know they’ll want to meet right away. And it’ll give us time to get our stories straight and time to buy a ring…shit…I’m broke.”

“Guess you need to get a job then,” you peer around the room, then start to shuffle. “Help me sit.”

Once you’re upright, you look around the room again to realise that you’re in the spare room, the room you and Seokmin shared in the mirror world.

Wonwoo enters with a tray holding a big bowl of something steaming and a couple bottles of water. “You look as if you’re looking for something,” he comments as he hands the tray to Seokmin, then climbs up to your free side and gets comfortable himself.

“Have you had the floors redone since living here?” You wonder, looking at Wonwoo who shakes his head so you look at Seokmin. “Did you?”

“No, why?” Seokmin asks as he mixes the spoon around the bowl. You quickly glance at the contents and realise it’s some kind of thin soup, then look away to the corner by the door. “Pull up the carpet there and the third board in.”

“What? Why?” Wonwoo looks at you like you’re crazy. “Do your witchy powers know something?”

“No,” you scoff. “My memory knows something.”

“Wait, you’ve been in this house before?” He gawps.

“It was hers before it was mine,” Seokmin informs.

“Wait, are you the woman who went missing here in the 60s?” Wonwoo looks at you and Seokmin chokes on absolutely nothing. You just nod. “Dude, you’re dating someone older than your parents.” Wonwoo grins at Seokmin.

“S-seriously?” Seokmin looks at you with wide eyes.

“I don’t know how old your parents are but I assume so, I was born in 1938,” you admit with a little wince knowing exactly how it sounds, even if you look 26 still, you’re a hell of a lot older. You don’t really want to know what the year is but you don’t have much of a choice.

“Well, you’re the hottest 90-year-old I’ve ever seen,” Wonwoo jokes, before cracking up laughing at the look you give him, half murderous for mentioning your age and half shocked that it’s quite that old.

“My grandma is only 82,” Seokmin’s dumbfounded mutter makes Wonwoo laugh hard enough that he has to get up and leave the room. “No, wait, 86 now I guess.”

“Please stop,” you plead as you look back at Seokmin. “I am this close to having a mental breakdown, I didn’t realise it’s been that long for me.”

“Oh, right, yeah, I suppose it has, huh?” He frowns at you a little. “It’s a whole new world for you, I can understand now why you didn’t care if you returned or not.”

“Yeah,” you tentatively touch your fingers to his where they’re curled around the edge of the tray on his lap to keep it still. “I…I understand if you want to call your parents now and go back to them and…forget the past four years for real.”

“What?” He quickly puts the tray on the side table so that he is free to face you fully and take your face into his hands, making you look up at him instead of staring forlornly at the gap that no longer exists between you. “Sunshine, I’m not going anywhere. I told you that, remember? You said you’re never letting me go and I said I won’t want to go anyway. I mean that.”

“Still? Even knowing that I could’ve babysat your grandma?” You ask, unintentionally pouting at him a little with round eyes of worry.

“I won’t lie, that would be weird, but also kind of funny,” he giggles, then leans forward to kiss you softly. “I love you, Sunshine, and I’m going to marry you and maybe…we can have a family of our own. You can teach them how to do cool spells and I’ll teach them that age doesn’t mean a thing when your wife is as hot as mine is.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” you huff, yet break into a smile and pull him in by his t-shirt to kiss.

You’re disturbed a few minutes later by a noise in the corner and look over to find Wonwoo ripping up the carpet, a toolbox at his side.

“The third board?” Wonwoo asks loudly a moment later when he’s got the carpet back far enough.

“If I remember correctly.”

“Never know at your age,” he retorts, then laughs when a decorative pillow hits the back of his head.

You hadn’t thrown it, you’re far too weak for that right now, but you had given it to Seokmin and pointed at Wonwoo so your beautiful, loyal boyfriend had lobbed it over at the technically youngest member of your trio, even if he’s thirty-two.

You tug Seokmin in for a grateful kiss, then let him go. He immediately picks the tray up yet places it back down seconds later when Wonwoo gasps loudly, the floorboard in his hands. “What? What is it?” Seokmin asks, rushing over to peer into the hidden compartment. “Holy shit, is that a spell book?!”

“You notice that and not the box of fucking gold jewellery?” Wonwoo gawps at Seokmin in disbelief, then reaches in to pull the open lidded, almost overflowing box out tentatively.

As soon as Wonwoo’s out of the way and approaching the bed to sit on, and rummage through the jewellery at your side, Seokmin dives back into the hole to grab the book and other items with intrigue.

“These aren’t real pearls…right?” Wonwoo asks once he’s opened the only jewellery box in the container and taken note of the pearl necklace within.

“Of course they are,” you scoff. “Why would I have fake pearls?”

“Because having real pearls is insane! They’re worth so much!”

“Are diamonds still worth something?” You ask, plucking up a bracelet from the box.

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Then I guess we’ll be able to afford to get out of your hair soon enough.”

“As in move out?” Wonwoo pouts at you a little. “But…I’ve gotten used to not being alone and there’s plenty of space for the three of us. Well, more than just plenty; you know how big this house is, there are more bedrooms left unused, you can have a magic workroom or whatever.”

“You really want us to stay?” Wonwoo nods, looking a little shy to admit it.

“Okay,” you agree, and reach over to squeeze his knee a little with a teasing grin. “We’ll stay and you can be uncle Wonwoo and babysit for us one day.”

“You know what? I like kids so I’m okay with that,” he shrugs and focuses back on the jewellery so you plop the bracelet back into the box almost carelessly. You’ll have to remember to remove the protective, anti-damage spells on anything you sell beforehand, selling anything with magic attached is never a good idea.

“Is this your magic wand?” Seokmin gasps, suddenly clambering onto the bed and holding his hand towards you. You look at the item in his hand and laugh before nodding a little. “Wow, that’s so cool!”

“You can have it now; I haven’t needed that for a long time.”

“A long time,” Wonwoo comments, and sniggers when you backhand his leg.

“Wow, really? You’re good enough to not need a wand?”

“Mm, some basic spells are easy for anyone to do wandless, but more advanced stuff requires it until you have a certain handle on it all.”

“I bet you would’ve defeated Voldemort easily.”

“I have no idea who that is,” you remind, and both men light up before sharing a grin.

“Potter marathon?” Seokmin asks.

“Hell yeah. I’ll go buy popcorn,” Wonwoo agrees enthusiastically.

“Popcorn?” You ask, eyes widening with interest. “The sweet kind?”

“Ooh, there’s so much you’ve never tried!” Seokmin gasps excitedly bouncing on the bed at your side while Wonwoo gets up and leaves the room. “So many treats and foods and drinks and movies and shows and-”

“Seokie,” you interrupt, putting your hand over his mouth. “Calm down, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives to do everything.”

Seokmin gently pulls your hand down onto his lap and laces your fingers together. “Yeah, we do. A long happy life side by side, right?”

“Forever and always, sweetheart.”

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tusswrites

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters [teaser!]

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

teaser word count: 1.7k

teaser warnings: swearing

release date: saturday, august 3, 10 PM EST

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

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A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

note: this fic is my BABYYY so I really hope it’s well received and you all have a good time with it. it’s probably no surprise that still monster is one of my absolute favorite enha songs, and this story is essentially (my interpretation of) it in written form. this is going to be a multi-part story, and as of right now, the first part is almost ready to share. for now, enjoy this snippet!

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Crossing a dark line through the word you just penned, you sigh. 

This is the fastest you’ve put a story together in ages. It’s cohesive, and the writing is solid. Your use of metaphor is strong and concise, and the prose feels true to your identity as a writer. 

But something in you withers a bit with every new word you commit to paper. It’s not that you hate your topic. If anything, it’s just that you have no stake in it at all. It doesn't feel innovative or exciting or representative of your creativity. 

No matter how easily the words flow out of you, something about it just feels… flat. One dimensional. 

You need something new. A different angle or an alternative perspective or… Or a fresh set of eyes. 

Struck with a sudden idea, you pull out your phone, plan taking form in your mind. The literature club at your university hosts bimonthly peer review sessions, and you haven’t taken advantage of them nearly as much as you should. They’re a chance for any writer, literature major or otherwise, to come together and workshop any piece of writing of their choice. 

Tapping your finger impatiently on the table, you wait for the page to load. The fall semester did end almost a week ago, so it may be a long shot. You’re not sure if the club typically holds sessions over winter break. But as you pull up the club’s calendar of events, a small smile tugs at your lips. 

Luck seems to be on your side this time. It’s written there in plain, bold font that there will be a session this upcoming Friday evening. That means that if you attend the session and get some solid ideas for revision, you’ll have exactly five days to refine your draft before you present it to Professor Kim. 

The idea of having not only a topic, as the schedule outlined, but an actual complete,  well-written draft to show him next Wednesday, turns your small smile into one that overtakes your features. 

Energized with a new vigor, you reach for your pen again. It doesn’t have to be perfect, you remind yourself, even as a turn of phrase makes you cringe. Even as a piece of punctuation feels out of place. It just needs to be written. You just need to have as much content as you can to share on Friday. 

Besides, you’re sure that a second opinion will help you fine tune this story into something you’re proud to share, something you’re excited to attach your name to.

The afternoon is quick to blur into early evening, and you’re still bent over your favorite corner table. Coffee long drained, you’re full of a new confidence. The thought of proving yourself suddenly doesn’t seem like such an unachievable, out of reach task. 

And when you do finally gather up all of your belongings and make your way back to your apartment for the night, you’re sure that this is the exact boost you needed. 

That same stroke of self-assuredness carries you all the way through a finished first draft. It’s rough and messy and littered with loose ends, but it’s tucked away in the bottom of your tote bag with a smile as you haul it to classroom number 105 in the university liberal arts building Friday evening. 

You pause at the door to the classroom, only for a moment. The inhale you breathe in is deep, full. Nodding to yourself once, you push open the door. 

You haven’t been to one of these workshop sessions since the second semester of your first year, back when you had just switched to a literature major. You remember being wide-eyed and incredibly protective over your work. It was hard to part with it, to let anyone else read over the sentences you were so unsure of. The writing you had little confidence in. 

But your partner had been kind. Another girl in her first year, she had nothing but gentle feedback to give and reassurance that your writing was worth reading. Honestly, it was such an overwhelmingly positive experience that you would have come back for more sessions if you weren’t constantly struggling to find minutes to spare in the day. 

You’re hoping that tonight will be just as rewarding as you enter the classroom, tote bag in tow. But as you survey the space around you, your face falls flat, easy going smile dropping from your lips. 

You weren’t expecting a big crowd, considering that it is winter break and most students are deliberately avoiding campus right now, but you were hoping there’d be more than one other person in attendance. 

Well, you think, deciding to look on the bright side of things. At least you’re not the only person. 

The other attendee is sitting in the far corner of the room, occupying a desk near the front of the classroom. At the sound of your entrance, they turn to face you. 

With that, your small disappointment is quick to snowball into an intense wave of exasperation. Because why is the universe so hellbent on playing games with you?

Your mouth drops open without your permission. “Heeseung?” 

Your sudden outburst fills the room and lingers long into the awkward silence that follows. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but really, what are the god forsaken odds?

If he’s bothered by your reaction to seeing him, Heeseung doesn’t show it. Instead he looks strangely… relieved. It makes absolutely no sense for him to feel any sort of relief at the sight of you, but it’s hard to put a more apt descriptor to the way tension drains from his shoulders, crease between his brows softening as he looks at you, scans you from head to toe. 

A moment of stilted silence passes between the two of you. Another. Your heartbeat feels too loud in your chest.

You exhale, a cross between a scoff and a laugh so humorless it could freeze a flame. Weighing your options, the most tempting by far is to just turn on your heel and exit the way you came. 

Heesung seems to read your intention before you can commit to it. 

Breaking the heaviness in the atmosphere, he acts as if you’ve greeted him like an old friend, not as the source of all your recent headaches. 

“Hi,” he nods, so tentatively you almost want to let your jaw drop open in shock. Almost. 

Because what the fuck does he mean by ‘Hi?’ This has to be some kind of mind game, some way to get in your head and ruin this for you. 

“Right.” Your lips pull into a tight line. You don’t bother to return his greeting. “I’m just gonna go, then.” Hiking up your bag on your shoulder, you turn to do just that. Your first draft will just have to be unpolished. Oh, well. You’re sure Professor Kim will have better feedback for you than Lee Heeseung ever would anyway. 

Once again, Heeseung’s voice cuts across the classroom. “Wait.” There’s a command in his voice. Gentle, but firm. Insistent. So pervasive that you find yourself following without really meaning to. 

Mind made up and dead set on leaving, now you’re just annoyed. What a waste of a Friday evening.

“What?” You turn back to him. You’re not sure if there’s more venom in your voice or your eyes. 

And Heeseung, who commands a classroom with quiet grace, with his steady, unwavering presence, suddenly looks so damn unsure. As if tormenting you is uncharted territory. As if he’s never once left you in the cold with flaming cheeks and a thoroughly shattered ego. 

“I…” he trails off, not quite meeting your furious gaze. “Didn’t you come here to get feedback?”

“Right.” You scoff again. “Because I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to tear my writing to shreds. Forgive me, but I’m not interested in being the butt end of your joke tonight.”

“What?” If you didn’t know any better, the ignorance he feigns would be rather convincing. “That’s not why I’m here.” He shakes his head. “I brought something I want reviewed too.” 

Your brow arches. He can’t be serious. “Even if I did stay,” you counter, “you’re actually the last person I would want to read my work. Feel free to be offended by that, by the way.”

For a solid minute, Heeseung just looks at you. He wears that same damn deer-in-the-headlights expression he had after you brushed him off when he intercepted you in class the other day. He pauses, weighing words on his tongue. “Look, ____.” The sound of your name on his lips strikes a strange chord in you. Until now, you were certain he didn’t even know it. “Did I do something to offend—”

And no. Absolutely not. No way are you rehashing that day in the quad with him now. 

“You know what,” you interrupt. You need to go. Now. You need an out. “I’m actually, like, super tired. I think I’m just gonna head back, and—”

But then it’s his turn to cut off your train of thought. “It’s your piece for Professor Kim, isn’t it?” Heeseung takes your silence as confirmation. “Publishing is a big deal. A second set of eyes will only make your work stronger. And if you hate my feedback, it’s not like you have to use any of it.”

You hate it. You despise the way his reasoning matches your internal monologue nearly word for word. The way your thoughts align exactly. 

You pause, a decision weighing heavy on your mind. He is an excellent writer… There would probably be substance to his feedback. Real, actual, good substance that you could use to make your writing bloom into something truly amazing. He could be the exact spark you need to make your story come to life. 

You purse your lips. “What’s in it for you?”

Heesung smiles, a nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips. He knows he’s won. “Like I said, I brought something I’ve been working on.” There’s an intention you can’t quite read behind his gaze when he adds, “I want to know what you think of it.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

With a grumble, you take reluctant steps towards where he sits on the opposite side of the classroom. And if you slide down into the seat next to him with a little more force than necessary, well, it’s just because you’ve had a long week. No other reason. None at all. 

“Fine,” you relent, reaching to pull your notebook out of your bag. “You get twenty minutes.”

“That’s not nearly long eno—”

“Thirty,” you concede. “And don’t push it.”

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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note: thanks for checking out this little snippet! I can't wait to share the full first part soon. this one is going to be so much fun I'm buzzing already. I don't have a tag list, but I will most likely update this post and reblog it once I have a confirmed release date. like I said in the note at the beginning, I'm anticipating it will be ready to go by this sunday (august 4 EST) at the latest. woo!

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

in stars and time "method actor" au braindump

the people have spoken! welcome to the method actor au! in which i took the theatre themes of isat and stretched them to their absolute limit!

the premise is that instead of saving vaugarde, the party + major side characters (the king and euphrasie) are an acting troop! and they're telling the story of the saviors through a play. Siffrin is playing The Traveller, and over time in rehearsals has really grown to like his castmates (even the one playing the king- he's actually quite sweet!).

it's the opening night! they're more than prepared for the show!

... until they aren't.

All it takes is a faulty prop from the fly tower, and suddenly siffrin is right back where they started the day before, waking up from a nap in the greenroom before the last rehearsal.

they're back at the beginning. they get a second chance.

after all, you only get one opening night, and siffrin is determined to make it perfect.

...all they need to do is make sure the show goes smoothly!

no stage hazards,

no missed lines,

no injuries,

no deaths,

no mistakes.

and if they have to play the hero to do it?

if the lines between them and their character have to blur so that their parts are perfect?

so be it.

the show must go on.

[notes below the cut!]

[spoilers for isat below!]

so yeah, siffrin takes the term "method acting" way too seriously. out of necessity, though. this is a performance, after all! they have to keep it together for the show, and the best way to do that for them is to embrace their role.

setting

still takes place in vaugarde! except yknow. the king isn't actually happening (yet), so instead of a group of saviors we have the acting group playing the saviors! a bit meta, but it works.

craft and the island still are a thing, and play a major part in the overarching story! this is still a time loop, after all!

all of this is taking place on a stage within dormont's house of change! Euphrasie sponsors, and was more than happy to be included for her very short role! The theatre there has been out of use for decades, but Euphrasie sees it fit to resurrect it just for this show!

The party:

Mirabelle is the playwright, having dreamed up a story like the books she loves to read but for the longest time being too afraid to put it down. Euphrasie encouraged her to go through with it, and they've been building the show ever since! she thinks she isn't a good actor, but she's actually very empathetic as the heroine, since she (secretly) based it off herself.

Isabeau was actually the first to audition- and the only one, at least in the first round. He came in last-minute, and after delivering a solid monologue (with a few puns slipped in), Mirabelle was eager to cast him! He actually loves costume design, but he doesn't dare to reveal this to the party, even if he occasionally spends hours in the House's storage room looking through pieces from older performances.

Odile was a surprising addition to the cast. She was interested in Vaugardian tradition, and figured the best way to learn was through the epicenter of vaugardian culture, at a house. She reccomended some plays to mirabelle from her travels, and after giving some pointers on mirabelle's early scripts decided to join in for the hell of it. She likes horror productions in particular, and contributed a lot to the concept of the king's time craft.

Siffrin was visiting the house, and came to see one of the plays... but got the time wrong and came in during a live-reading of the scripts early draft. he stood and watched for a bit before mirabelle noticed, and after a LOT of fumbling and apologies admitted that he loves theatre. Mirabelle practically dragged him in after that. Given that he didn't have anything else to do, he agreed. Despite claiming he's not much of an actor, much preferring to work on the set design, he's actually uncannily good...

The King is... just a guy, actually! very quiet, very reclusive, but after seeing one of mirabelle's casting calls came in and absolutely smashed the audition. he's been with the group ever since! he's pretty busy outside of the production, but he puts his all into his work! He and siffrin have a kind of kinship, given their shared elusive background and... white hair, i guess.

Bonnie is the younger sister of Nille, who worked on trade classes at dormonts house after the two left Bambouche together. Mirabelle needed someone to help make the sets, and Nille volunteered early on in the production, so long as she could bring Bonnie along. Initially Bonnie wasn't all that interested, but after hanging around the cast a bit grew curious. Siffrin caught them reading through one of the scripts and acting out the various parts on their own. After that, Mirabelle made the time to write in The Kid for Bonnie to have a role thats easiest for them! Fun fact- a lot of The Kid's lines are actually ad libs from Bonnie throughout the production. Mirabelle kept writing them into the script as a sort of inside joke.

Euphrasie is mostly the same! As the head housemaiden, she's had a bit of experience with public speaking and acting, and after seeing Mirabelle having such fun she allowed herself to be roped into a small role as The Head Housemaiden in the production.

the story...

Siffrin's first death is actually to a prop rock falling on top of them. When they wake up, they're back in the green room, waking up from a nap. Isa is out by the favor tree as usual, odile is buying food for the cast party, mira is pouring over her dating profiles disguised as her script, and bonnie is hanging out in the auditorium.

Of course, at the favor tree after the first death is loop. They immediately cast siffrin as the "new director", and from there basically acts much the same as in canon, though a lot of the "memories" are slight improvements to siffrin's acting or the set props.

so, despite all their preparation, the performance keeps getting interrupted in increasingly more and more bizarre ways. A strange array of stage accidents, usually resulting in siffrin's death. They initially suspect that the show is cursed (theyre not that far off), and start to dig into how that could happen. this is where the idea of wishcraft gets introduced. The King seems the most likely to be highjacking the show, but siffrin doesn't want to believe it.

As siffrin performs show after show, things start to get... weirder, somehow. Like the performance is becoming more real with each passing loop. This doesn't just extend to the set, but also to siffrin themself. The line between them and the traveller blurs. As they learn more about wishcraft and the forgotten island, they project this into the story and their performances, and even off set will take mannerisms from the traveller role and use them to brush off the party's concerns.

in later acts, the rest of the cast begins to blur with their own respective characters, to the point that siffrin starts to become irrationally aggressive towards the king, somehow believing him to be responsible. Loop does their best to keep siffrin's handle on reality in tact, but by act 4 they're essentially living out the play. there is no distinction between reality and mirabelle's script- it's all one thing. And the wish makes that true during the performances as well, in ways that even the party can notice- ghosts on the stage, reality warping because of props, even randomly improved sets and staging. The further siffrin descends, the stronger the wish's influence over the performance and their reality grows. by act 5, the wishcraft has transformed the house to reflect that of the play, and everyone to be their characters- or be frozen, as a captive audience. the rest happens similarly to how it does in canon.

the real crux of the issue, like in canon, is that siffrin made a wish. They love their cast, and they love their performance. They want it to stay like that. They want to stay with them. And so they wish at Dormont's favor tree. And it comes true, in the best way the universe can manage- by making it so that the performance never ends. The actual hazards of the set are real- Dormont's theatre is borderline decrepit- but once the wish craft begins to influence things, they become more serious.

i initially had the idea that maybe during the first loop the story becomes real, like what we see in canon, and siffrin is reacting to the actual characters as a literal actor, but i like the idea of the party playing their SASASA counterparts as more base/easily digestible protagonist versions of themselves more. plus like, the idea of it all being literally on a stage is too fun for me

the hilarious thing is, in my mind... the audience wouldn't know that wasnt the intention for the play. in their pov they saw this shit being acted out and not the absolute wacked out acid trip the party saw while on stage. it's an instant success, though the entire party agrees to never put on the show again.

thats about all i got so far? dunno if i'll actually write anything for this, and if i do it'll probably be a one shot or two. but if youre interested in more info abt the au, or just wanna chat about it, feel free!

until next time!

[novantinuum]

Pink Onyx AU- An Analysis and Theory Post, Part 1

[Part 1- You are here!] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5]

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Howdy! Those of you who have followed me for a while have probably been seeing my reblogs of the @pink-onyx-au comic made by @ceephorsshitshow. Well, today I wanna share with you something a little different than my usual SU meta… because today I’m gonna analyze this really cool fan work with the same level of seriousness as I do canon. (Like. Seriously. This first post alone is really, really long. I put most of it under a cut.)

This particular comic is a very special one for me to watch unfold, because it’s evident that a lot of deep care and attention to detail has been poured into its creation. There’s fascinating bits of expanded character development to chew into here, as well as plenty of mysteries and lingering questions for us readers to muse and theorize over. If you follow me for Steven Universe and haven’t read this AU yet I highly recommend you check it out. The most basic pitch is that it explores what a fusion between Steven and Jasper might look like, and does a LOT of deep-diving into the similarities and differences of both of those characters’ psyches.

Here’s the episode masterpost on tumblr.

And you can find it on Tapas, too! 

(Note: For the purposes of these posts, I was given permission by the comic artist to post screenshots of various pages where relevant in this discussion. For each frame used I will list the episode and page number for easy reference. Additionally, this post and all future ones on the topic will contain full spoilers for the comic thus far.)

Now with all that introductory stuff out of the way, here we go!

__

So, on the final page of the most recent update, we get one hell of a visual plot bomb for Steven as ol’ Onyx unfuses:

(Episode 9: Page 22)

He’s now visually expressing remnants of his corruption, where before he was not.

And it’s this mysterious plot point in particular that got me wanting to analyze this comic more deeply in the first place. This is completely new for him in this story. Thus far, he’s never expressed any of these remnants when he’s just himself- not in the way Jasper does. So it made me wonder… how might this shift in his appearance play into the ultimate trajectory of the plot? How does Steven suddenly showcasing corruption scars integrate into the larger story that is being spun here about him and Jasper and how they relate to each other?

Well, there’s a lot of comic details and story lore we need to unpack first before I can take my best theorizer’s stab at this. Let’s dig right in.

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Prelude: The analyst’s treasure is in the speech bubbles

Anyone who’s been a fan of this comic for a while has probably noticed these fun visual details already, but I’m going to take a moment to break down what I believe each speech bubble style signifies for folks who may not have context. It’ll make some of my analysis later a bit easier, too, ahah.

So. Speech bubbles. What kinds do we have here? 

(Episode 1: Page 6)

Style number one: Solid with black text

This style is standard for non-fused characters, and is also utilized when a fused character is speaking whilst in a state of internal harmony.

Steven is pink and Jasper is orange, of course. Onyx’s speech bubbles are a distinct darker pink, and the main three Crystal Gems get their own colors as well. More minor characters get white bubbles.

(Episode 1: Page 10)

Style number two: Scribbly pink lettering overlaying black text

Whenever you see this type of speech bubble, it’s a sign that there is some level of internal discord going on within Steven or Onyx that is related to their diamond side. It usually shows up when one of the two is in pink mode, but from what I can tell this is not a solid rule.

(Episode 2: Page 12)

Style number three: Pink/orange mixed bubbles

This is how we see Onyx talking for a good portion of the early comic. Their speech bubbles are a clean mix of Steven’s pink and Jasper’s orange. And most vitally, the color on the top and the tail signifies which of them is “fronting” at that moment.

(Episode 3: Page 11)

Style number four: White bubble with solid pink text

So far, this style has only been used to represent dialogue that is being spoken by Steven’s gem half exclusively. Which makes things very interesting, as in Steven’s own remembrances of shattering Jasper on the very first page of the comic, the line “I have been holding back!” is shown in this specific style, instead of the scribbly pink lettering that signifies internal discord.

There is one additional sub-style here- and this is the one moment where we get Onyx’s mixed bubble but WITH the solid pink text. 

(Episode 3: Page 11)

I believe these two styles pretty much mean the same thing… only, the white/pink text is either viewed within memory or a metaphoric fusion mindscape where we the viewer are actually “seeing” Steven’s instability, and thus can “see” his gem half as a separate entity there. While, in reality, this is an argument Onyx is having with the disparate pieces of themself.

(Episode 4: Page 9)

Style number five: Pink/orange tye-dye mixed bubbles

When you see that darker shade of pink start dappling into the standard mixed bubbles, this indicates that there are small whispers of Onyx’s true personality beginning to surface, instead of them constantly being wrested back and forth between Steven and Jasper’s conscious control.

(Episode 4: Page 16)

Style number six: Pink/orange mixed bubbles, but with a darker pink tail

From this page onwards, Onyx’s speech bubbles always have their darker pink shading the tail no matter who is fronting. Sometimes there are little lines of another color etched out of it, and sometimes the tail is solid dark pink. I like to believe that when it’s solid, it means that Onyx is just a little closer to reaching a fully harmonious state than when it’s not.

(Episode 9: Page 6)

Style number seven: Onyx speech/thought bubbles with a hint of pink/orange underlying

This style seems to signify moments where it’s still Onyx fully in control of themself and their actions/words/thoughts, but they’re taking subtle influence from their components or accessing their memory a bit.

These are all of the distinct styles I have caught so far, but quite honestly, it would not surprise me if I am missing something. All of this to say… pay close attention to the speech bubbles. They can tell you a lot about Onyx’s state of mind throughout the story.

Now with all this established, I’d like to finish off this first post with my first big discussion point.

__

Question One: What does Jasper actually know about Steven’s “meltdown,” if anything?

The AU author recently solidified this comic’s placement in the SUF timeline in an ask response, saying that the first episode takes place just a week after Steven’s corruption event.

I’m glad this point was clarified, because it was super vital information which deeply influenced the way I analyzed Steven’s actions and responses in my recent re-read… it means this experience is still super raw for him. This is VERY important and we’ll get back to this in more depth later in future posts. But first, let’s explore what Jasper knows of this event.

The full extent of her knowledge is unclear-

(Episode 1: Page 6)

In Episode 1, Steven briefly alludes to his corruption as seen above… referring to it as “[his] meltdown.” Notably, Jasper does not seem to ask any questions about this stray comment. This COULD suggest that she knows what happened to him a week prior via hearsay, but given the context of the rest of the scene and the fact that she’s as isolated as she is out here I genuinely wonder if she thinks Steven’s so-described “meltdown” is his shattering of her.

This idea would make a good deal of sense, as she doesn’t start to make any commentary on the topic of corruption at all until they’re actually fused- with Steven bringing it up first.

(Episode 2: Page 14)

On this page, Steven takes note of Onyx’s very visible spikes (which are Overtly in the same placement as his own when he was corrupted), and initiates the musing upon his own corruption himself.

With the way Jasper phrases her response, the vibe I get is that she somehow gleans a bit of ambient shared knowledge about what happened to him through their fusion.

(Episode 2: Page 15) 

“That human form you wear must have been hiding your markings.” This quote is SUPER vital. We’ll come back to this later on in this post series, too.

(Episode 2: Page 15)

It’s clear that Jasper doesn’t REALLY understand what he went through or what caused it, since she then outright mistakes the casual woes and body pains of organic life as corruption. (As seen above.) 

(Episode 8: Page 4)

But later on, she outright relates to him over their shared experience of past corruption, so she must at least know enough from mere ambient thought-sharing by this point to recognize it happened.  

It’s obvious that she’s barely scratched the surface on fully understanding her fusion partner, though. Neither of them have. It’s gonna take a lot of fusion, comedic mishaps, and genuine conversation to get there. All in good time, I’m sure.

__

Please do join me tomorrow at 7am PST for the next post in this series! This has been a blast to write up and muse upon.

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT. I hope this message finds you well. I am sending all the good vibes and we'll wishes your way! ♥️♥️♥️ I hope you've had a wonderful summer.

I'm such a big fan of your work. Lioneheart is amazing and has stuck with me for such a long time.

I was wondering if you had any other stories you'd like to explore one day (even if you never get the chance to write them.) Whether it be fanfiction or original work, I was just curious because sometimes I feel as if I have hundreds of stories inside that I could tell, and I am not sure how to pick just one and see it to completion.

First of all, thank you! This is a fun one. I have a few enduring ideas for longfics I may or may not ever write (i.e., ideas that would have been projects already if I didn't have an ongoing longfic). I don't get stuck in them mostly because I try to remind myself that the idealized story you imagine when a concept occurs to you will never actually exist as it does when it's unshackled by the constraints of execution. What you'll get if you actually sit down and hack it out is (1) a real and imperfect piece of writing, and (2) the satisfaction of having written it, which is by far the more reliable source of motivation, if we're being honest. That being said, here are some ideas I've always wanted to explore, if and when I finish Lionheart:

I've always wanted to write a longform canon-divergent Tomione fic about Tom Riddle's 7th year at Hogwarts. Big honking political melodrama ft. the original Knights of Walpurgis, a Triwizard Tournament, and realistically functioning time travel (hence why this one's always been kicked down my list of projects, because writing a time-travel plot is like running through a minefield made of trampolines). I've already got character concepts sketched out for the Hogwarts cast — sooooo many fun ideas for the teenage Walburga. But I'd still need about a week of solid fic preproduction on the plot alone before I was ready to boot up and start writing, and it'd take at least 250k words — closer to 300k, if I'm being honest about myself. So this probably won't see the light of day anytime remotely soon, if ever.

A canon-compliant Dramione war fic, diverging from the Malfoy Manor chapters in Book 7, picking up from a speculative thread I read once about what would happen if the war didn't end after Voldemort died at the Battle of Hogwarts. I've always thought it would be fascinating to see who Hermione and Draco would become if they were actual soldiers in the war (and my disappointment with how Book 7 handled the "war" of it all has been established). That being said, Book 7 of Lionheart will probably give me a lot of similar ideas to chew on, so I don't know what my appetite for this one will be once I'm finished with it.

Durmstrang AU. This one's barely a fic concept so much as it is a mental moodboard — I just want to worldbuild the hell out of Durmstrang. And the international wizarding world, generally. It's a delicious sandbox.

A longform canon-compliant fic or series of fics about the previous generation of Blacks (Sirius/Bellatrix/Narcissa, namely). If you look at the books, there's a huge amount we don't know about the fall of the Blacks. I always found it bizarre that the sisters and Sirius seem to be the only ones left by 1995. No one else has a claim? No one else from this all-powerful wizarding family wants to step in and claim this big honking townhouse in the middle of London? Or its attendant fortune? Dude, what happened? Also, we don't see nearly enough of the Black family melodrama in canon. They lose 4/5 children of a generation in the span of almost single decade. And then (presumably) all of their parents die in the span of another. Goddamn. Just imagine the character work you could do there.

A No Chosen One/Voldemort Wins (The First Time) AU where Hermione never gets her letter, and meets Draco much later in life as a self-taught witch. The dynamics I have in my head for this are really enjoyable, and it would be a chance to finally write Hermione POV, plus the Draco I've cooked up for this universe is [chefs kiss]. I also just love the idea of Hermione as a feral witch-child running around muggle London. I love it a lot.