Round 1 2023: Quotes

[hwarium]

Status: Closed This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted. Seventeen Holidays Round 1: Quotes About "Someone will remember us, I say, even in another time." "How inconvenient to be made of desire." "It's me, hi, I'm the problem its me." Calling all readers, lovers of poetry and music, screen and stage. Quote collecters and lyric hoarders, unleash your archive. For this round, every prompt must contain a quote - you can combine them, add commentary, link to articles, do whatever. Steal from a literary classic, or copy WeVerse drama. 🛑 HOLD UP If this is your first time on 17hols please check out our About Page which contains helpful information and links to pages explaining dreamwidth and HTML. We are a prompting fest where all the action happens in the comment section. Rules Sign up is not required. Fills have a minimum of 400 words for prose, haiku-length for poetry (3 lines), and 400px by 400px for art (memes are also art). Other mediums are fine too! There is no maximum cap. Tag and provide content warnings at your discretion, but a good guide are the Ao3 four (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage) and this list of common CWs (cr: SportsFest). NSFW/Explicit content should be tagged NSFW art should not be visible, please provide a link and a warning. You may crop the artwork and embed a SFW preview. How it works Prompting Click on [Post a New Comment] at the bottom of this post; Change the subject; Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment and edit the sections. Feel free to add as much detail as you want! Need ideas? Check out our 2021 and 2022 Quote rounds. <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Do Not Wants:</strong> None <strong>Prompt:</strong> <blockquote>[QUOTE GOES HERE] </blockquote> Filling Reply to the original prompt; You must change the subject to [FILL] - this is to help the mods track. Feel free to add a title Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment, edit the sections, and add your text. You may also upload your fill to the AO3 Collection. <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask *** Remixing Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above; Change the subject to [REMIX]. Art/media Upload your work to any platform (twitter, imgur, youtube, soundcloud, google maps, etc.) Using the same HTML code as above, copy the link into your fill or remix. That's it! Optionally, you can embed a picture into your comment. Please use the following code instead. (To explain, the HTML resizes your picture to 400x400px so that it fits on most screens. Users can view the full size if they click on it. You can also add a link to your work on twitter so that others can share it, or to any other website you want) <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask *** <img src="INSERT IMAGE URL" width="400px"> <a href="INSERT ANY URL YOU WANT">TEXT THAT DESCRIBES THE LINK</a> Note! On dreamwidth, you can't edit a comment once someone has replied to it. Navigation ABOUT FAQ CHAT BAITS ✧ FILLS ✧ < ROUND 1: QUOTES > ROUND 2: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES 2021 2022

Comments

if your heart beats the same way, let me know!

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: mutual flirting!! confessions!
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Catching feels like butterflies
If I say what's on my mind, would I hit bullseye?
Shoot, I'm ready, aim and fire
Baby, I feel like Cupid's alive
Alive tonight

...

'Cause you got me good and I wanna be ya boo
If it's dumb, well, I wanna be a fool

- The Feels, TWICE

Re: [FILL] what kind of love

[arundels]

IM INSANE!!! I'M GOING INSANE!!!!!!! [RUNS AROUND AND SLAMS INTO A WALL] first of all the fact that jeonghan says no and the polygraph person says its TRUE. second of all the fact that mingyu also says no and its FALSE. like omg this is the perfect conflict set up but also the perfect distillation of gyuhan, yjh who would rather die than tell the truth versus mingyu who wears his heart on his sleeve!!!

some lines that made me fully deranged:
- “What?” Jeonghan says, quite involuntarily. He stares at the polygrapher wide eyed. HE DIDNT THINK HE WAS LYING IM SCREAMING
- “Mingyu,” Seungkwan says, with the air of someone who’s just had the best idea in their entire career. “Do you love Jeonghan hyung?” SEUNGKWAN NO
- Mingyu doesn’t laugh though. He’s looking at Jeonghan like he’s trying to blow him up with his mind. this is so funny and so evocative lmao I can SEE mg's face
- “I’m going to bed,” Jeonghan declares.
“Okay,” Seungkwan says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.” IM SO STRESSED BUT ALSO IN HYSTERICS
- “Mingyu,” Jeonghan says again, like if he says his name enough times maybe it’ll be enough– maybe he won’t have to say the other thing. THIS IS FINE IM FINE IM FINE
- and oh, oh, oh. Kissing Mingyu is so nice. I. AM. DERANGED.
- Yes, yes, yes, Jeonghan thinks, it’s always yes when it’s you. COMING BACK ROUND TO HIS INITIAL 'NO' IM GNASHING MY TEETH

thank you for my death

Re: [FILL] the poets are right

[(Anonymous)]

In that moment he looked a bit like a superhero to Wonwoo.

oh this line.....in context, after Wonwoo acknowledges the difference in Seungcheol's "wholehearted adoration" versus Wonwoo's "curse"...wowwww

you are so good, thank you so much for writing & sharing!

Re: [FILL] 再一次

[fleurissons]

this is absolutely gorgeous ;_____; I'm in the middle of watching the time traveller's wife and now I wish I have a whole season of this 8jun instead. I had to stop and stare at the wall (insert goofy_floating_in_a_pool.gif) when Minghao asked Junhui to stay longer...the Implications!!!! so subtle but so impactful!!! at the risk of regurgitating every 8junist ever: companionship is the longest form of confession indeed and boy what a powerful take on that this was.

p.s. the exchange below just made me feel some type of way :')

“I know I’m young,” Minghao says finally. “But won’t you wait for me?”

Junhui laughs, startled. I do, he thinks, I did.

vengence

[thesolemneyed]

Ship/Member: junhui ?? i beg
Major Tags: ?? death :3
Additional Tags: go wild !
Do Not Wants: nothing make it fucked up as you want !

Prompt:

Tell them to come in
Why are your eyes cast down
I'll keep it a secret
Your corruption and sin
...
Watch me dance
Watch me sing
Don't ever get caught again
You'll thеn see
The bad bitch
-- BIBI, Vengeance

Re: [FILL] let it be me

[sunwalkr]

im out and about rn but i literally ran when i saw this from u. u r a literary icon im indebted to u for writing this. also why did i want to cry a little

FILL: in my arms

[healingtoyou]

Ship/Member: Soonyoung/Minghao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: introspection, idolverse
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Soonyoung feels like home in a way that Minghao can't describe.

Minghao's lucky, because he has two places that he can call home. The place he started growing up in, with the unadulterated love of his family and childhood friends, and the place he finished growing up in, among an amalgamation of talented boys who inspired him and let him inspire them in turn. Now, as he's settled into adulthood and his sense of self, he can take the time to give back the love he received from both his homes and also keep evolving, keep learning, no matter where he is.

And then there's Soonyoung.

Soonyoung is a home that Minghao can hold in his arms. Someone he can relate to so deeply, a fellow dancer, perfectionist, with dreams bigger than himself but he'll still make sure to achieve them - and someone he wants to protect, from life's disappointments and even from himself, when he's pushing too hard or thinking too much.

He's someone Minghao wants close to him always just to make sure that he knows how Minghao feels, just so Minghao's fingers can tap a quiet rhythm into Soonyoung's hip that says 'you're brilliant' and Soonyoung will wordlessly fit his own hand over Minghao's without even looking at him. He doesn't need to do that to know, and the thought makes Minghao so happy that he won't be able to stop himself from pressing closer.

Soonyoung who works hard every second of his life. Soonyoung who hangs on to Minghao's every word when he tries to tell him to relax, but still doesn't know how to listen because he's become so used to putting in every ounce of his effort to chase his dreams. Minghao knows he doesn't do it on purpose. He knows how hard it can be to listen to advice. Sometimes, it's difficult for Minghao to listen to his own.

So Minghao will take things into his own hands by taking Soonyoung's hand, asking him if he wants to go to a museum together. If Soonyoung says yes, they'll have a lovely time and they'll marvel at everything and Minghao will explain all the things that Soonyoung asks him to explain (and more). If Soonyoung says no, they'll go somewhere else and have fun there, too, resting together.

"Or we could stay inside for a while?" Soonyoung says like it's a question, hand flexing in Minghao's hold. Minghao looks at him and Soonyoung smiles, glowing because he's always glowing but it's softer now, the gentle kind that comes around when he's with friends, with people he loves. "You could read me something."

"I could, but I'd have to go back to my hotel room to get a book."

"Oh, that's too much effort. Just stay here with me, then! We'll find something to do."

'Too much effort'. As if that's something Kwon Soonyoung would ever say. But apparently it is if Minghao has to leave his side for barely a minute, and Minghao's heart swells at the thought, wondering if he's being too romantic with his imagination. Nonetheless, he lets himself be even more so as he dips down to press a kiss to the back of Soonyoung's hand and Soonyoung's giggles reach his ear.

Soonyoung, their fearless performance team leader who snaps at Minghao when he gets something wrong in dance practice but Minghao never minds because he understands the strive for perfection, and the way Soonyoung shines and brightly smiles at them all after they've executed it effervescently on stage makes it all worth it.

Soonyoung who gives him so much love through quality time, consistent phone calls every time he's away, sweet smiles and jokes and bursts of energy to keep him going when the work day gets long, so Minghao would find it too difficult not to forgive him instantly if he's a little mean.

Soonyoung who lets Minghao come close and hold him while apologising with all his heart when he's been a little mean, too.

"It's okay," Soonyoung tells him, stroking Minghao's hair, and these are times when he really feels like a hyung. Times when Minghao's desperate for Soonyoung to forgive him because his life would become a horror story if he doesn't. "We need to dance Wave together tomorrow, you think we'd be able to do that if we had any tension between us? I forgave you hours ago, it's old news."

"I know," Minghao says hoarsely, because he does know, deep down. It's just the kind of bond that their team has evolved to have, efficient and strong and filled to the brim with love, but... "We still need to talk about it, though. I don't want to forget how to talk about these things with you, any of you."

Soonyoung sighs, dramatic and teasing but Minghao can see a twinkle of understanding in his eyes. He holds his arms out and Minghao's quick to fall into them. "Alright. We'll talk. It'll be enlightening and a little sad but more uplifting and you'll probably teach me five new things about myself in the process and before we know it, it'll be midnight and I'll ask you to stay the night because you're a great cuddler and so am I. I'm ready!"

Minghao doesn't know if there's been a day in the last ten years where Soonyoung hasn't made him smile. "I love you."

Soonyoung makes claws at him. "I tiger you."

Minghao bites one of his curled fingers and Soonyoung screams so hard that somehow the both of them, two seasoned dancers with enough coordination to do flips, fall off the bed together.

It's freezing outside these days, but Minghao doesn't focus on it too much since they're all so busy working despite it all. He acknowledges it the most when he hears about fans getting sick because of the weather and he worries about them, sends them vocal or silent wishes for their health always. He does the same for his members, just in case.

He must've forgotten to wish for himself.

"We have a flight tomorrow," Minghao insists after the doctor has just told him that he has to rest, desperate even with his head aching and nose threatening to run. "I have to go, I- it's the last stop of the tour and I don't want to let them-"

"Minghao," his manager says sternly from beside him. "You are letting no-one down. But you will if you make things worse by trying to perform."

Minghao knows that. He knows that if any of his other members were in this position, he'd scold them for even thinking about going on a plane. But he wants to be there so bad that it aches, he's at the point of his life where he's bursting to give back the love he received that helped him find himself and his dreams, and he knows, he always knows that they're at their best when they're thirteen.

But the damage is done and Minghao needs to look after himself for now.

He's drowsy and nestling in bed when his phone pings hours later. He wonders if the guys have landed yet as he weakly reaches out for his phone. He sinks under his covers before he turns it on, and the light hurts his eyes, but he smiles when he sees who's texted him. Not a single day.

- myeongho my myeongho how r u if ur sleeping pls dont reply if ur not sleeping pls tell me a detailed recount of your recovery process so far i need to know absolutely everything or i will die

Minghao laughs hoarsely, swaddling himself like a coccoon as Soonyoung's messages keep popping up.

- i miss u sm
- i want to send crying emoticons but im worried if i do that then i will actually cry and there are people around me that would be EMBARRASSING
- but i would cry in public for u...

Soonyoung will never stop being lovely, and Minghao is awake, so he tries his best to give Soonyoung all the details he wants. Even though it's not much more than sleeping and drinking tea and noodle soup, Soonyoung seems delighted by every little thing he says.

'in my heart im by ur side rn', Soonyoung tells him. 'i am cradling u to my chest and i'm the one making u tea and it's probably terrible but i will still force u to take it bc i love u sm and u will drink it bc u love me sm!!'

'i do', Minghao replies, too feeble and smitten to tease or joke. 'so much.'

Soonyoung goes silent for a while, and Minghao feels his eyes grow heavy. But then he gets a stream of heart emojis that makes his own heart grow fuzz.

'hyung', Minghao texts him, heart heavy. 'i need carats to know i love them. they need to know that even if i'm not there, i wish i was and it doesn't make me love them any less.'

'silly', is Soonyoung's response. 'theyll never think that! hmmm....but how can we show them?'

Minghao gets an idea. He doesn't know if it's a good one, but it's all he can think of and it says all he needs to.

He goes into a little bit of a coughing fit when he's done, and decides he really needs to get some rest now. No more Soonyoung to make him smile and laugh beyond his energy levels right now.

He sees Soonyoung reply that he'll send his words to Carats, filling Minghao with warmth. He finally falls asleep after seeing the last text, feeling more free than he has since he got the news that he wouldn't be able to board the plane with the others.

'don't worry,' Soonyoung's telling him, and Minghao imagines him there, keeping Minghao safe in his arms and whispering in his ear. 'rest well, my love'.

Re: [FILL] succession of shelters

[arundels]

oh, oh no. I feel far too seen (this is gorgeous thank you for sharing)

Re: [FILL] i wanna see you (but you're not mine)

[(Anonymous)]

this is so beautifully written. the metaphor you weave of wonwoo as the house and his heart as the misshapen mug is heartwrenching & that hope that he still holds on throughout the fic—and seeing it fulfilled when jeonghan does come back—really resonates as a reader ;;
thank you for writing and sharing!

I Am Crazy

[madeoutcreek]

Ship/Member: Any, highly suggest yjh or xmh though
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: rule 63, lesbianism, ophelia vibes
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Waves come crashing on in
But I'm feeling the rapture cool on my skin
Take me under the blue

- Hayley Kiyoko, Under the Blue / Take Me In

What I want from the river is what I always want:
to be held by a stronger thing that, in the end, chooses mercy

- Oliver Baez Bendorf, Advantages of Being Evergreen

In fact, no matter how deep I go
Into you, it looks like the water is crystal clear

Crystal clear
I won't give in to the fear

- Hayley Williams, Crystal Clear

If I survive, I'll dive back in

- Paramore, Pool

Re: [FILL] succession of shelters

[corar]

oh no !!! (and thank you for reading <3)

Re: [FILL] succession of shelters

[corar]

ahhhh thank you <3 i'm so glad u enjoyed!!

Re: [FILL] succession of shelters

[corar]

here are some hugs 🫂🫂🫂❤️

Re: [FILL] succession of shelters

[corar]

i'm glad you could resonate with this 🫂 thank you so much for reading and commenting!! ❤️

Re: [FILL] burn it down

[forestsofpine]

I absolutely loved this. The ending - wow!

Re: [FILL] succession of shelters

[lachrymosy]

I loved this. The feelings were so clearly communicated, and each scene contained so much great characterization. I loved these lines especially:

he doesn’t think the city loves him in the way he loves the city, but he is part of it, now, and that’s something. it has to be something. he begs for it to be something.

That feeling of needing somewhere to belong but the things that anchor you are changing… so good!

[FILL] do you think i'm a loser?

[feralhoshi]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan & Joshua, Joshua/Original Female Character
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: post-disbandment, you've moved on and i haven't and doesn't that just fucking suck
Permission to remix: ask!

***

He doesn’t expect to run into Joshua on a Friday evening.

Jeonghan didn’t intentionally lose everyone’s number after their disbandment, or so he says. If anyone asks, he got sick of receiving phone calls from sasaengs even after months of no longer being Seventeen’s Jeonghan, and just never transferred his contacts over to his new phone. This is true, but there’s still something to be said about the remainder of his contacts somehow making it onto his new device sans the twelve men he considered family.

He’s been more or less dragged into spending time with some of them, the ones that insisted on staying friends — Seungcheol hunted him down, and Seungkwan and Mingyu harassed (read: begged) him for Jeonghan’s new number — but eventually they stopped bothering him as often once they realized he had no desire to reciprocate their friendship. Jeonghan didn’t see the point.

His biggest hang-up was that everyone else seemed to move on with their life, onto bigger and better things, while Jeonghan — didn’t.

So why has the universe decided he needs to see Joshua Hong across the street with a woman hanging off his arm?

He considers his options, if ducking around the corner and blending in with the trash was worth it. Or maybe — manifest enough confidence to walk across the crosswalk and continue heading back to his apartment while pretending seeing his face doesn’t threaten to send him back to the confusing twist of numb-relief-anguish from a year ago when three of them voted on disbanding.

Jeonghan was one of them.

Then we’re done, Seungcheol had said with a finality that felt like a punch to the gut.

But he’s awfully curious; who was the woman pressed into his side, chatting animatedly as she gestured to the pastry display through the window? And why did Joshua look so lively, meeting her eyes with a gaze dripping with fondness?

When is it my turn to be that happy?

The crosswalk dings, alerting him it’s his turn to cross, and Jeonghan steels himself, eyes downcast and mask secured over the lower half of his face. If he just keeps walking, keeps minding his business, don’t look don’t look don’t fucking look —

Dammit.

Joshua’s eyes widen in recognition, lips parting in surprise. Jeonghan’s speed-walking slows to a stop a few feet from them, hesitant to cross that invisible line that he’s already invaded since the moment he noticed Joshua. He doesn’t dare come any closer, letting Joshua make that decision for them.

And he does; Joshua offers his friend — girlfriend? wife? fuck fuck fuck — a glance before stepping forward with her still by his side, eyeing Jeonghan with a curious tilt of her head. He’s closer now, leaving a polite foot between them, and Jeonghan swallows thickly, wondering what Joshua sees in their proximity.

“Jeonghan,” he greets softly, awed. Jeonghan hides his grimace behind the safety of his mask, cringing at the squeeze that does to his insides. “Jeonghan-ah,” with more confidence this time, like he’s realized Jeonghan isn’t an illusion.

“Hey,” is all Jeonghan’s lame brain can come up with, avoiding the stare that Joshua’s girlfriend-wife-whatever is burning into the side of his face.

If Jeonghan’s lackluster response bothers him, Joshua doesn’t show it. “Is life treating you well?” he asks, like they’re just buddies that happened to run into each other.

Like there wasn’t a thick, however unspoken, tension between the two of them their entire career that neither could acknowledge for fear of losing their jobs.

“Ah, well,” Jeonghan answers vaguely, waving his hand in a so-so gesture. And things are already awkward enough, so he bites the bullet and goes, “And who’s your friend here?”

Joshua beams at that, lips curled into a pleased smile. He rests a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, bringing her just a smidge closer. “This is my fiancé, Soonhee.”

Aha. There it is.

Jeonghan tries his best (but not really) when he hums in surprise, nodding. “Congratulations,” he offers. It falls flat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Soonhee says, but Jeonghan barely hears her, gaze lingering on an empty box of cigarettes on the ground. He’ll have to take a trip to the convenience store on the way home.

“I need to get going.” Jeonghan jerks a thumb behind him, indicating the direction of his apartment. Joshua doesn’t need to know that isn’t the right way. “It was nice meeting you.” It wasn’t.

When he looks up, Joshua offers him a look that’s simultaneously too much and not enough all in one, lips pressed in a worried line. He looks like he wants to say more — beg me to stay — but Jeonghan turns away before he can get a word in.

Joshua doesn’t call out for him, doesn’t stop him, and that’s all Jeonghan needs to know nothing’s going to change.

[FILL] tell me the truth about love

[biggrstaffbunch]

Ship/Member: verkwan
Major Tags: idolverse
Additional Tags: N/A
Permission to remix: please ask

***


“I don’t like to lie,” Hansol says, “But it doesn’t mean I won’t.”

The thing about Hansol is that he cares a lot about authenticity, but his life is a study of contradictions that makes the truth an abstract, malleable thing: Korean or American, Asian or white, native or foreign, artist or idol, normal or celebrity. Sometimes it’s a binary choice, other times it’s a spectrum of realities. It’s hard to be honest when honesty is so subjective and context-specific.

So here, being strapped into a portable polygraph, watching the monitor beep at a steady pace corresponding with his pulse, Hansol feels it’s important to say again to the PD fussing over the wiring:

“I read a lot about this stuff, hyung. I’m not — you’re not necessarily going to get accurate information just because we’re doing this.”

The PD just shrugs good naturedly. “Good episode either way, Vernon-ssi,” he says cheerfully. “Can’t wait to see you guys argue your way through who’s lying, telling the truth, or faking it about either option.”

Hansol feels a chill down his spine at the prospect of the chaos. “Diabolical,” he says, reluctantly admiring.

The PD just smiles again. “You’re all set,” he says. And then, more kindly, “We all lie, you know. Just think about which ones are worth it and which ones aren’t, in the end.”

A wink, and then he’s gone, and Hansol is left waiting for his members to stream in.

|

The start of the test is easy enough, questions about given name, age, current events, things like that.

Then they start asking questions like:

“What did you do with the Wii remote a few years ago?” (Wonwoo, who has an uncanny memory and zero interest in gossip)

“Who’s the most handsome member in the group?” (Mingyu, who Hansol suspects is asking this of literally everyone)

“How do you keep your eyebrows so impeccably groomed?” (Joshua, who often uses absurdity as a type of subterfuge on camera)

“Which hyung would you take on an abandoned island and why?” (Dokyeom, who is definitely angling for a pick)

“Why would you not take Dokyeommie on an abandoned island?” (Jeonghan, who smiles with the placid glee of someone well-used to stirring shit and then disavowing his influence later)

And so it goes.

Hansol gamely replies to everyone, and the members, while committed to the bit, don’t push him too hard for funnier or more controversial answers. He figures he’ll have one or two segments that won’t be edited out, and that’s good enough for him.

Until Seungkwan comes in.

If lying is an experiment for Hansol, Seungkwan is the control. He knows everything about Hansol, in a way that goes beyond just being trainees together, or even being best friends. They’re more inextricably linked than that, tree branches growing from the same giant root. Seungkwan has seen Hansol grow from a gangly, awkward mess into someone more thoughtful and secure. In fact — he hasn’t just seen it, he’s helped it happen. When Hansol was nervous about debut, when Hansol was homesick for his mom, when Hansol was uncertain about his talent, it was always Seungkwan who saw it first. Always Seungkwan who would strike to the heart of him and reframe those fears into a new perspective.

In a lot of ways, Seungkwan is the one who first architected the truths that Hansol so readily accepts about himself now, all these years later.

It’s… kind of why Hansol is so in love with him.

So when Seungkwan slides into a seat across from him, a camera-ready smile on his face, Hansol feels the first frisson of uncertainty travel down his limbs.

It’s not that Hansol has to lie. It’s just that — he might want to. And he hasn’t yet. To choose to do so with Seungkwan feels disloyal. Worse than that, maybe. Fundamentally wrong.

“Vernon,” Seungkwan says thoughtfully, steepling his chin on two fingers. “How are you today?”

Hansol swallows. “Good,” he says. “My right buttcheek fell asleep, and I probably shouldn’t have had two banana milks before filming.”

Seungkwan laughs, surprised. “Oh,” he says, delighted. “This is how we’re playing it!” He leans in, smiling more genuinely, not just the polished grin he had on before. “They’ll probably edit that out, so let’s call it a warm-up.” He nudges Hansol’s foot with his own, an affectionate point of contact that makes Hansol smile back reflexively. “Let’s see…what is your favorite thing about Seungkwannie?”

He puts on an intentionally cute voice, hamming it up, but Hansol can see a flickering tension in Seungkwan’s jaw, like he’s afraid of the answer.

Hansol’s chest aches a little. It’s so typical of Seungkwan to ask something serious but expect to be treated like a joke. He can’t help but gently prod Seungkwan’s foot again.

“How much you care about other people,” he says, pushing as much sincerity behind his words as possible. “Or — well. How much you care about me.”

There is a blush worming its way to Hansol’s face, but he determinedly tamps it back. Nothing wrong with being affectionate, he reminds himself. Nothing wrong with caring for someone out loud. Showing a few cards doesn’t always mean showing the entire hand.

The tension in Seungkwan’s jaw eases, and surprise again tinges his laugh. “Ah,” he says, embarrassed. “That’s very nice, Vernonie. What’s your least favorite thing about me?”

Hansol groans inwardly. The fact that you can’t keep yourself from asking questions like this, he thinks. The fact that you hurt yourself without any reason.

“Nothing,” Hansol says, deliberately keeping his breathing even, making eye contact, willing himself not to sweat.

The machine doesn’t beep. Seungkwan’s smile drops and his lips thin into a line.

“Nothing, huh?” he says slowly. “Okay. When was the last time you were mad at me?”

Hansol narrows his eyes, recognizing the tone. They’re always mad at each other in a thirteen-person group. Petty grievances and small arguments erupt literally every day. He probably cursed Seungkwan out in his head as recently as two days ago. But it’s the principle of the thing — Seungkwan is trying to get him to say something mean, and Hansol doesn’t like that.

“Can’t remember,” Hansol says, smiling benignly.

Seungkwan flexes his knee, like he wants to stamp his foot.

The machine keeps going, no indication that anything is amiss. Hansol cocks an eyebrow.

“Vernon,” Seungkwan says sternly, folding his arms, “Do you love me?”

And Hansol, not aware this was a rhetorical lead-in to another question, and still determined to hold out on telling the truth, says: “No.”

The machine stutters, jumps, and so does Seungkwan, perhaps shocked by the sheer rudeness of saying something like that on camera.

“Oh,” he says, a frown flirting with the tips of his mouth. “I know that’s a lie, Vernon-ah, even without the staff to tell me so.” The right? goes unsaid, but not unheard. Not to Hansol.

Hansol ducks his head. “Sorry, Seungkwan,” he says. Contrite. “I was just joking.”

They both know Hansol doesn’t joke about things like that. It feels stilted, awkward. Trying to evade Seungkwan’s self-deprecating goading has led Hansol unintentionally to the same outcome: hurting him.

And that won’t do.

Hansol has a lot of moral codes and evolving feelings about what he should or shouldn’t share just because others ask him to, but his feelings for Seungkwan are never going to be something worth playing this close to the vest. Not when there’s the risk that Seungkwan could ever believe the lie is true.

“I do love you,” Hansol says after a moment, because Seungkwan is starting to put that idol face back on, and if Hansol doesn’t do something now, this moment will fester in Seungkwan’s head for days after, until it’s just another anecdote for another variety show, told so many times it becomes a punchline, regardless of the needles of hurt still stuck to it.

The camera operator comes closer, and Hansol lets himself sweat, just a bit.

“I love you,” Hansol repeats. “You’re my best friend and the person who cares for me the most. Even when I’m mad at you, I’m thankful for you. And even when there are things you do that I don’t always, uh, appreciate, there’s nothing you are that I could ever dislike. I don’t always show it well, Seungkwan-ah, but.”

He taps his fingers on Seungkwan’s hand and looks at him head-on.

“I love you,” he says, once again, firmly, quietly, without reserve.

There’s quiet for a moment, just the sound of the machine scribbling without interruption, the shuffle and coughs of the camera operators and PD-nim.

And then Seungkwan smiles, a small, private, real smile.

“I love you, too,” he says, shy and small, and it feels like sunlight pouring down Hansol’s back when Suengkwan turns his hand over under Hansol’s and intertwines their fingers.

|


A fact is a complex thing: known, or proven to be true.

Is Hansol’s love for Seungkwan a fact? To Hansol, who is aware everyday of its existence, the way it burns a small undeniable hole in the center of his chest, yes.

To Seungkwan, who loves in words dripping with emotion, tender touches, small acts of service — not always.

So just as Seungkwan helped dig the foundations of Hansol’s evolution into the man he is now, Hansol lets Seungkwan be the catalyst for change once again.


|

“What’s this?” Seungkwan asks, looking down at the box in hand.

Hansol shrugs. “Had an idea,” he says, grabbing Seungkwan’s Americano for a sip. “Wanted to give you something.”

It’s a — well. It’s what Minghao calls a Gesture. Not that Minghao is an expert or anything, but he’s pretty much one of the few hyungs that Hansol trusts to offer advice that has a chance of being both meaningful and practical. And apparently, for something like this, words are not enough.

So, here he is. With a Gesture.

Seungkwan opens the box with typical eagerness; he adores presents, and usually he and Mingyu are the only ones who really bother exchanging them. Hansol used to think it was because they both like things — an appreciation for the latest trends and coolest gadgets to make life easier. But that was stupid. Seungkwan and Mingyu are similar in another major way: their capacity, and desire, for love.

Hansol considers that Seungkwan just likes to confirm he’s being thought of when someone picks out and then gives him a gift. The evidence of being known.

Well. Hansol has spent the last decade learning this boy, from every micro expression to every giant dream. If there’s anything he knows, it’s Seungkwan.

The box opens, and Seungkwan’s eyes glow.

“What’s this?” he asks, holding up the delicate chain. It’s a glimmering white gold to match the way Seungkwan’s skintone melts from pale white to sun-kissed pink through the seasons. At the end of the necklace is a bar, which Seungkwan holds up to the light.

Etched into the bar is the polygraph pattern at the exact moment Hansol lied.

“It’s a reminder,” Hansol says. Seungkwan’s fingers are trembling, just a bit. He reaches out to cup Seungkwan’s hands, palms wet from the Americano’s condensation.

“Of?” Seungkwan is transfixed by the chain, but he sounds confused. Like he knows this is important somehow but can’t begin to guess what it’s about. What Hansol is trying to say.

Hansol’s heart squeezes and he takes a fortifying breath.

“Of the fact that I could never lie about loving you.” Hansol takes the necklace from Seungkwan gently when Seungkwan’s hand spasms.

“Sometimes I might not tell 100 percent the truth, you know? Because I’m trying to protect myself, or protect you. Because we ask for honesty when what we’re really doing is testing something that doesn’t need to be tested. But Seungkwan, no matter what, when people ask me if I love you — when you ask me if I love you — even if my words aren’t perfect, you can see right here: my body doesn’t lie.”

Hansol has slipped the necklace around Seungkwan’s neck, fingers lingering at the soft skin of his nape.

Slowly, slowly, Hansol brings his hands to cradle Seungkwan’s cheeks. Tilts Seungkwan’s face up, looks into Seungkwan’s eyes.

“Try me again,” Hansol suggests, pulse beating like boots on the floor, the building thunder of applause in a stadium. “What you asked, that day.”

Seungkwan’s eyes are luminous, full of wonder. “Do…you love me?” he asks, voice thin. Almost soundless. His own hands come up to Hansol’s chest, one over his heart.

“Yes,” Hansol says, and then kisses him.

|


Many things can be many things. There’s no one way of being, no one immutable truth.

But when Hansol looks at the column of Seungkwan’s throat as he tosses his head back to laugh loud and loose, when Seungkwan rubs his hand through Hansol’s hair with an undeniable reverence, when they tangle together in bed, a mirror of their teenage selves, like a prophecy come true…

This. This, Hansol thinks. This is not a lie.

Re: [FILL] sharp spines

[hyojungss]

T___T it's amazing how you used the prompt, and how a love that can seem so inviting and unconditional can be hurtful because it seems like seungcheol is loving the image of soonyoung without knowing soonyoung in full. Maybe they love the person they think Soonyoung is, but they might never love Soonyoung. this :( the comparison between the two of them / their roles and positions is very well written... i hope seungcheol really can see that part of soonyoung ♡ thank you for sharing!!

forget about the war-like times, my heart shouts

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Any (kinda maknae-line coded tho ..)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A (but also maybe consider: re-learning love, fixing each others' broken pieces, the intimacy of adventure, etc etc)
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Can you believe it’s only the beginning?
I think I finally know what love is
Ready or not we’re going, trust me
(Soldiers knocking doors down yelling out)

~ Hello Future, NCT Dream

[FILL] red, gold, and circles

[lightreframe]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Jeonghan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: IMPLIED SEXUAL CONTENT (there is an exhibitionism ment), Ambiguous Relationships, fucking ferrari (derogatory and evil), theres not a lot of loss but a lot of Intricacies, It Is Statistically Proven That Ferrari Is Miserable So Am I, sorry @ csc
Permission to remix: Yes

disclaimer: i am not an f1 driver nor do i work in f1. inaccuracies inbound……… hope this satisfied something??

***

Seungcheol is twenty-eight and not getting any younger. Instead, Lee Chan, at the age of twenty, is on his second championship. It's lost by a small margin, and by this, he means the fuel issue that renders his car undrivable. Nothing new.

Into the escape path he goes.

Another one bites the dust. Another championship lost through no fault of his own. His heart rearranges itself sickeningly within his ribs.

Regardless, Seungcheol makes the walk of shame back to the paddock and pretends that the clouds over his head are an angel's halo. A show-stopping grin. We'll be back, stronger. The media asks and PR training responds with practised ease.

We’ll always have tomorrow, goes the debrief, We'll always have next year, the drone-like voice says, too bored of its own failures to do much about it. Through it all, Jeonghan gets drunk with him—not on champagne, rather, on stupid red wine they have too much money for.

In the quiet, peaceful air of his motorhome, yellow street lights of the Abu Dhabi paddock lighting up the night, Seungcheol may just find solace.

“Do you want to put down bets for whoever wins next year?” Jeonghan says, swirling his wine glass full of scarlet red, haughty. It suits him, blond hair, half-lidded eyes. Anticipatory, confident.

It reminds Seungcheol of Lee fucking Chan and his post-race interviews and the teasing: Ferrari still can win the championship / We cannot get too complacent.

All of this with a grin. With the awareness that he can. Waiting upon another downfall caused by their fucked up car to deliver appropriately.

Jeonghan can, too. He's the Ferrari golden boy—no matter that Seungcheol has finished in front of him in the standings. The car next year will do its best to fit his needs.

No matter. He'll do what he can to fucking destroy him.

(After all, Formula One drivers are made to respond to threats. Stubbornness born into the shape of the driver's cockpit. A snug fit.)

“Seven million that I win more. You?”

“I’ll match.”

Jeonghan takes another sip from the glass. Red stains his lips, looks almost like blood. It suits him.

/

Jeonghan wins Bahrain, Australia and Saudi Arabia. He touches Seungcheol during debrief, still in fireproofs. He's dragged to Jeonghan's motorhome. The singe of a working engine—hand to skin contact, when his Ferrari polo is undone and there's hands on his waist.

Seungcheol laps it all up, ignoring the stick of champagne-stained fireproofs for the press of lips against his cheek.

Vaguely, it feels like he's touched gold. An appetiser that only makes him hungrier.

/

Seungcheol gets his first win of the season in Montreal. After various DNFs. It's worth celebrating, but the crew can't be bothered to, really.

For that, after debrief, Jeonghan doesn't even bring him back into the motorhome—ravishes him right there, lip to lip, hand to neck, in the red garage, behind the tyre stacks. Hidden from the pit lane. Adrenaline rushes with blood.

With newfound vigour, Seungcheol makes an effort to remove his fireproofs as much as possible—regardless, Jeonghan palms him through the material, hard.

(His lips rubbed raw from the force that Jeonghan kisses with, full throttle at eighth gear, never lifting. Unforgiving narrow walls that Seungcheol doesn't dare to test.)

That night, he falls into bed, marks dotting his skin. The promise of more comes in waves.

/

Jeonghan wins Austria, much to Red Bull's chagrin. Lee Chan's car suffers from a fuel leak. Seungcheol is second unintentionally.

Out of pure obligation, he gives him a side hug. Doesn't miss the way Jeonghan's hand lingers on his waist through the layers, doesn't miss the way he grips it, tight, and lets go.

/

Seungcheol wins in Hungary. Ferrari are leading the Constructors' Championship.

Jeonghan teases him a little more with every race he wins: lets Seungcheol drink champagne off his skin. His fireproofs zipped down to his waist, the V of his pelvis a glorious expanse of skin he can't touch. Some stupid form of promise.

There's no real motivation behind it, as far as Seungcheol can tell. Emotional distance so palpable it feels like crashing into a concrete wall. I'm not faithful—you're just available.

The closeness of their hotel rooms and the reach of summer break allows them to take their time for the celebration, but Jeonghan's gestures suggest nothing of patience. He rings the bell at five PM with an opening line.

"Balcony sex? Or, really, you'd rather me fuck you against the podium railing, hm?"

/

Seungcheol wins Spa and Singapore. Jeonghan won Monza. Golden fucking Ferrari boy.

Today, after winning Suzuka, Seungcheol gets fucked rough, perhaps, in the same way he overtakes and is overtaken, unrelenting, always eager to see it off to the end.

Jeonghan doesn't come. Seungcheol kneels, and—

/

By Abu Dhabi this year, they're neck and neck with five wins each. One last one for the taking.

"Gonna go easy on me?" Jeonghan catches up with him on the way to the garage. He's holding a special helmet the colours of Ferrari and himself.

Seungcheol's on pole tonight.

It's still relatively impossible to overtake at Abu Dhabi. He bites just a little harder on the straw of his water bottle—some kind of coping mechanism for the way his body reacts to Jeonghan.

It doesn't work, really. Jeonghan slips on his balaclava just then and presses a kiss to Seungcheol's neck. The artery there flares at the contact—or lack thereof.

(He's heading steadily towards the chequered flag in first place.)

(Subsequently, Jeonghan is in second just as his tyre punctures on the last lap. He doesn't make it back for a pit stop. DNF.)

/

"Wanna bet who wins more again, next season?"

Seungcheol meets the voice with a glare, almost. The provocation gets under his skin, fills his vision with red, and then gold.

"Seven million."

"I'll match."

Re: [FILL] i will have you know – my swan song will not be my last

[sunwalkr]

im really laying down op i loved this so much you don’t even know

Minghao continues, “I don’t have everything I want.”

“What?” Mingyu applauds five beats longer than the rest of the crowd. my favorite line and then of course in the end is the same thing mingyu also latches onto… using junhui as a foil to minghao’s belief that it was simple but also an act of necessity to break up like T__T wow i love you descriptions n the bleakness but also the way you choose your words. thank you for writing

[FILL] lovey dovey on me

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Minghao/Mingyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: AU
Permission to remix: yes

*******

It’s been only 3 minutes since Minghao called room service, so he’s not expecting it when someone is already knocking on his door. He’s got a face mask on and a date with a new book in the plush king-sized bed he booked for his stay in Tokyo.

Swaddled in the hotel robe, Minghao wanders over to the door expecting to receive the ramen he ordered, with a compliment about how swiftly he received it at the tip of his tongue.

But what he gets isn’t a bowl of noodles. Not at all. On the other side of the door is Kim Mingyu. Actor in award-winning films Kim Mingyu. Dior’s current golden boy Kim Mingyu. Minghao’s semi-regular hookup—whom he met months ago at an exhibition he curated—Kim Mingyu.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Minghao says out loud, nearly slamming the door in his face. Sure, they’ve fucked, but Mingyu has rarely Minghao like this. Completely unstyled, cozy...vulnerable, even. They tend to meet at events they mutually attend. Minghao might not be famous like Mingyu, but he’s amassed enough followers across social media to get invited to the same places.

“Hiiiiii,” Mingyu drawls, lifting one hand in a hesitant wave and carrying a monogrammed Dior weekender in the other. “You said come catch you in Tokyo, so. Here I am,” Mingyu shrugs and pauses, “in Tokyo.”

It dawns on Minghao that he did, in fact, tell Mingyu that if he wanted to see him so badly, he’d have to come to Tokyo. He just…didn’t expect him to actually do it.

Well, maybe Minghao should’ve suspected something was up. The last message he sent to Mingyu was a cheeky, “just flew in japan, come catch me 👀” and Mingyu just replied with, “😉🐸”

Minghao feels a bit breathless and swept away. Despite their whole thing leaning very casual, he can’t help but bite down a smile behind his face mask. He shuffles back to open the door enough to let Mingyu come in.
I guess we’re doing this, he thinks to himself.

“I didn’t expect you to actually come all the way here,” Minghao says, motioning for Mingyu to put his bag on the dresser. Mingyu messes around with the bag and pulls something out, hiding it behind his back. He turns to face Minghao fully, who’s standing there silently in his robe and mask. He knows he looks a silly, but he’s so caught up in Mingyu that he can’t bring himself to care too much.

“Me neither,” Mingyu replies, looking down at his feet and shuffling, “but I had a rare 48 hours free and I’m sorry if you’re creeped out—”

“I’m not,” Minghao cuts him off immediately. “I promise,” he steps closer and tries to get Mingyu to meet his eyes.

Mingyu does. “Good,” he softly replies. His hands are still behind his back, seemingly hiding something.

“You sent that text while I was staring at a wall of candy at the convenience store and I saw these,” Mingyu finally shows what he was hiding behind his back: a bag of frog gummies, “and they reminded me of you! Which is so stupid, they’re just gummies! But you saved your contact in my phone with the frog emoji and, well. Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Minghao says back. He’s simultaneously dumbfounded and delighted. So much so, that he just starts giggling uncontrollably.

“Yah, I’m serious!” Mingyu huffs, sounding a little whiny. His brow is furrowed adorably. If Minghao didn’t have this damn face mask on, he’d kiss the crease away. But he has to keep it on because 1. He has 5 minutes left on the timer and 2. He can’t let Mingyu see how much he’s blushing behind it.

“I know, I know. It’s very sweet,” Minghao takes the bag of gummies out of Mingyu’s hands and places them atop the weekender bag. Then he finds a home between Mingyu’s legs, where he’s now leaning back on the dresser. He grabs his hands and makes Mingyu place them on his waist through the robe. They look at each other for a beat, both barely able to contain their smiles.

“So. 48 hours, huh?”

[FILL] You reflect all the godlike

[icarusundone]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Chan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Age Difference, Infidelity, blink-and-you-miss-it crime au
Permission to remix: Please ask
Title from “Ghost in the Machine” by SZA ft. Phoebe Bridgers

***

The prodigal son returns from Seoul to muted fanfare and furtive rumors, the whispers and cigarette smoke drifting to Wonwoo’s office from the lounge, where the men have nothing better to do than gossip as they wait for the hyungnim’s next orders. They discuss in hushed tones how Seoul had chewed him up and spit him out like so many other starry-eyed hopefuls— why was he cavorting around Seoul anyways when he was old enough to inherit the family business— evidently, prancing around on stage in tights was more important to him than listening to his old man. The men chortle at the last statement, braying with laughter until Wonwoo opens his office door and lobs a stapler at the center table.

“Settle down,” he commands, and the men grumble but they do quiet down. No use in upsetting the hyungnim’s accountant.

Wonwoo doesn’t see him until later, when the novelty of being gawked at has worn off and Chan’s waved off the reunions and curious onlookers. Chan announces his presence by slamming the door to Wonwoo’s office open, rattling the frames on the wall and toppling files from Wonwoo’s desk. Sheets of paper flutter to the floor while the newly gutted folders lie limp on the ground. Chan stands in the door frame in his tailored black coat like a reaper ready to collect, the corner of his lips tilting upwards as he notices the destruction.

“Son of a bitch,” Wonwoo hisses, reaching a hand out to try to salvage a stack of paper before it topples over. Chan crosses the room, paper gracelessly crinkling beneath his soles, and swings himself up to sit on the desk in one fluid motion. The stack of paper falls.

“You’re working hard, seonsaengnim,” he says as Wonwoo halfheartedly swats at his legs, attempting to shoo him off his desk.

“You menace,” Wonwoo says, resigning himself to not getting any work done while Chan’s here. Chan’s grin just grows larger, a manic delight in his expression.

“How’s work?” Chan asks. “My dad not keeping you too busy, I hope?”

Wonwoo tries to stifle his laughter, but to no avail. Chan’s eyes sharpen at the sound. “It was better before you came in and messed up my files,” he says, gesturing to the mess of paperwork on his desk.

Chan pouts, his lower lip jutting out. “I’m so sorry,” he croons, picking up a loose sheet of paper and glancing over it. “I didn’t know that inventory statements were more exciting than me.”

Wonwoo shrugs and stays silent. Unlike his father’s puffed-up fits of bravado, Chan prefers to be economical with his displeasure; men don’t know he’s angry until there’s a bullet between their eyes. Despite the quiet danger, Chan doesn’t scare him, not really. Part of him will always be the ornery kid nursing a split lip who’d followed Wonwoo around like a bedraggled duckling as Wonwoo had prepared for college entrance exams.

Accepting the silence as an answer, Chan reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He flicks open the lid and takes one out before offering the box to Wonwoo.

“Why do you have those?” Wonwoo asks. “They ruin your lungs. I thought you needed good stamina to be a dancer.” He thinks he sees Chan’s eyes darken at the mention of dancing, but he blinks and Chan’s expression is unchanged.

Chan snorts. “Like you know anything about stamina,” he says, leering at Wonwoo, his sharp eyes sliding over Wonwoo’s ill-fitting suit, too boxy on his frame. “Lighten up, ahjussi.” He lights the cigarette and takes a drag, smoke curling out of his mouth.

“How’s Chungha?” he asks, tipping his head back and breathing out smoke. “How’s the kid?” Chan’s never had the patience for pleasantries, always preferring to cut straight to the bone.

“Hyeju’s fine,” Wonwoo says quickly.

“It’s a shame she’s not a boy.” Chan’s gaze slides over to Wonwoo. When they make eye contact, Chan grins, baring his white teeth. “Then again, maybe it’s easier that she was born with no expectations. You don’t have to waste time trying to mold her in your image if you know she’ll leave.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “You’ve been listening to your father again.”

Chan shrugs. “Maybe I’m just in a melancholy mood,” he says. “There’s only so many times you can be told you’re a fuck up before you start to wonder.”

He turns his head to give Wonwoo his full attention, his coy gaze failing to hide the intensity in his eyes. The singular focus pins Wonwoo in place, unable to look away. “Care to take my mind off it?”

Wonwoo pointedly ignores how tactless the proposition is and instead leans in, letting Chan pull him in by his tie. His lips taste like nicotine and Wonwoo’s already thinking about how to wash the scent of cigarettes out of his clothes because he knows Chungha doesn’t like the smell and he had promised to quit when Hyeju was born—

Chan bites down on his lower lip, drawing blood, and then there are no thoughts.

Re: [FILL] 再一次

[arcsecond]

ok confession time i've never watched the time traveller's wife i just looked at the wikipedia page LOL... thank you so much tho for reading and picking out the lines you did! that quote still has such a grip on me :') it's our burden to bear as 8junists