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

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[FILL] lingering

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Seokmin
Major Tags: post-breakup, canon compliant
Additional Tags: rock with you band version filming
Permission to remix: Yes

***

The day after the breakup is the worst.

It's not the wide berth the members afford Mingyu as he stews in emotion during soundcheck. It's not the pointed glances at him, then at Seokmin, then back at him. Not the distance either, no.

It's the lingering thing. The feelings.

The set's speakers blare with voice-over instructions from the director. "'Rock With You,' take one." The members meet it with a chorus of assent, the brightest of them coming from Seokmin. As it always had, even before the relationship.

Mingyu grumbles a yes and ignores the look Seungkwan gives him. Not everyone's like Seokmin, someone who can shine after calling off a six-month relationship.

Which was mutual this time, for the record. A "career and friendship first, attraction second," thing, which Mingyu reasonably agreed to, because he's reasonable. But that doesn't mean he has to be all sunshine and rainbows—

Wonwoo's elbow digs into his side. "We're filming."

"Ouch," Mingyu says more as a jab than a reaction, massaging his rib right before the director shouts "Action!"

The song starts. Mingyu nods his head, tuning into the music. The habit of the song, even without the choreography, is enough to tone down the bad vibes in his system. Before he knows it, he's singing in time for the verse just as he rehearsed before passing the baton to Seungcheol. A breath before he braces himself for hearing his ex's voice, in all its belting, moved-on glory.

Right as Seokmin sings the first line, the music cuts. The speakers come to life, the voice-over ringing. "DK," says the director, "please liven up your expression."

"Sorry," is Seokmin's immediate reply, a hand raised in apology. From across the set, Soonyoung's brows crease in confusion, with matching glances of concern from the others—

That isn't Mingyu's problem. He shakes his head, rests both his hands on the microphone stand. Not his problem, not anymore. He stops his gaze right before it reaches the back of Seokmin's head, instead training it on Minghao.

Who is staring at him like he just kicked a horse. Or got kicked by a horse. Either way, Mingyu hates it. But not as much as he hates the way Seokmin spares a glance that doesn't reach him.

Mingyu hates the lingering thing.

The music starts. Mingyu nods his head again, tuning into the music. Not his problem, even if he wants it to be.
🚀

Re: [FILL] lingering

[bamboozled]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! ahhhhh!!! this is sooooo delicious, anon!!!!!!! what a cool way to interpret this prompt and i am obsessed. mingyu hates the lingering feelings,,,,,seokmin suffering more visibly,,,,,mingyu’s petulant “not my problem anymore” thoughts,,,,,god. loved it. thank u.

[FILL] i fear you may see my heart

[soupblog]

Ship/Member: gyuhan, 2k, jeonghan pov
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: implied/referenced sex, ambiguous relationship, fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, wanting things you don't know how to ask for
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

Jeonghan should leave. He should leave now, before Mingyu wakes up– like he usually does. He tells himself it’s easier this way, but no matter how many times he walks out, it always hurts the same. But staying is not what he does, it’s not what he and Mingyu do. It’s not how they work.

This is how they work; Jeonghan calls Mingyu late at night and asks what he’s doing. Mingyu lies and says he’s free, even if Jeonghan can hear music in the background or people talking. Jeonghan pretends he doesn’t hear it. Jeonghan goes to Mingyu’s place and Mingyu’s there, opening the door, letting him in like he’s letting in a stray cat to shelter it from a storm. They have sex in Mingyu’s bed, and before he wakes up, Jeonghan has left. Repeat.

Sometimes Mingyu calls Jeonghan, but it’s rare. Even if it’s just sex, he knows Jeonghan well enough to know not to ask for more than Jeonghan gives him. Because Jeonghan is selfish, and he’s mean, and the idea of anyone wanting him enough to call him to ask is scary.

It’s better like this, Jeonghan calling Mingyu when he wants to. He can at least pretend that it’s on a whim, that he’s already been at a party and didn’t find someone else to keep him company through the night. Jeonghan can pretend he’s not calling Mingyu because he wants him and only wants him.

Jeonghan untangles himself from Mingyu carefully, slips out of bed and picks his clothes off the floor. He lingers in the doorway for a moment, looking at Mingyu, sleeping peacefully. He can almost imagine what it would be like, if he stayed. Sometimes he thinks they could even be happy.

But Jeonghan has a bad habit of holding on to things too tightly and shattering them in his grasp, and he ends up hurting himself and the other person in the process. He doesn’t want to hurt Mingyu. He doesn’t want to get hurt.

So Jeonghan leaves.

…

The next Friday, Jeonghan’s lying on his bed, fingers wrapped around his cellphone. He stares at Mingyu’s contact for a few moments before hitting the call button.

“Minggu-yah,” he says, when Mingyu picks up.

“Hyung,” Mingyu replies. “What’s up?”

There’s noise in the background this time. Mingyu must be at a party.

“What are you doing tonight?” Jeonghan asks.

“I– I can’t tonight, hyung,” Mingyu says. “I’m at Minghao’s birthday party.”

“Oh,” Jeonghan says. That’s all he says.

“Hyung?” Mingyu says. The noise has stopped. He must have gone outside. “I’m sorry, but maybe we can–”

“It’s fine,” Jeonghan says, lying. “I’ll call someone else.”

“Hyung–”

Jeonghan hangs up.

He shoves his phone under a pillow and rolls onto his side, curling up with his knees pulled to his chest. It’s fine. Mingyu has other friends, more important friends– Jeonghan isn’t important. They’re not even friends, he and Mingyu. Whatever they are, there’s not a word for it. Not one Jeonghan knows at least.

And Jeonghan doesn’t call anyone else, there’s no one to call– he could call Seungcheol, he supposes, but Seungcheol is seeing someone now and doesn’t have time to indulge Jeonghan.

He remembers Minghao. He’d met him at a party once, and Minghao had been… nice. He was pretty, and cool, and was into art and fashion and had so much in common with Mingyu. And when all three of them were talking, Jeonghan would look at Mingyu, but Mingyu would be looking at Minghao.

He curls around himself tighter, and he tries not to think about what Mingyu’s doing, and who he’s doing it with.

…

The next day, Jeonghan runs into Mingyu at the coffee shop. He’s with Minghao, of course he is– Jeonghan tries to pretend he doesn’t notice them, but Mingyu comes up to him, tugging at his elbow.

“Hyung,” he says, with a tentative smile. “How was your night?”

Jeonghan bites the tip of his tongue before saying, “fun. What about yours?” He looks over at Minghao, who’s sitting at a table behind them. “Why’d you leave Minghao behind? Embarrassed of me, are you?”

“No,” Mingyu says, sounding slightly annoyed now. “No, I just… I wanted to talk to you. Without him.”

“Hm?” Jeonghan says, tilting his head. “Why would that be? Also, you haven’t said how your night was. But I suppose it’s obvious, given that you’re both here together.”

“No,” Mingyu says again. “No, it’s not like that.”

“Not like what?”

“I’m not having sex with Minghao,” he replies, still with that edge to his tone. But he’s gotten a little quieter, so that they’re not overheard by the other people in the shop. “Hyung, just–” he pauses, swallowing. “Can I call you tonight?”

Fuck. Jeonghan stares at him blankly, unsure of how to navigate the question. He wants to say yes, which means he probably shouldn’t.

“Not tonight,” Jeonghan says. “I’m still tired from last night. Maybe next weekend.”

Mingyu deflates, and finally lets go of Jeonghan’s elbow. He looks disappointed, but not angry. Jeonghan sort of wishes he’d get angry, but Mingyu never does.

“Alright,” Mingyu says, quietly. “I… goodbye, then.”

Jeonghan nods and grabs his coffee from the counter, and he leaves the coffee shop and hurries home. He feels like shit. Lying to Mingyu isn’t like lying to anyone else.

…

The week passes at an agonizingly slow pace, until finally Friday comes around. Jeonghan sits by his phone, having canceled his other plans. He calls Mingyu around midnight, as usual.

“Hyung,” Mingyu says, before Jeonghan can say anything. “I– I didn’t think you’d call.”

There’s no background noise this time around. Jeonghan’s heart does something weird in his chest.

“I called,” Jeonghan replies. “Are you home?”

“Yeah.”

“I can be there in thirty minutes.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says. “See you.”

“See you.”

An hour later, Jeonghan’s splayed out on Mingyu’s bed, with Mingyu hovering over him. Their clothes lie scattered on the bedroom floor, the soft moonlight the only thing lighting up the room.

Jeonghan curls a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Mingyu obliges, open mouthed and tender. Jeonghan wishes Mingyu would kill him.

“Hyung,” he says softly, pulling away again.

“How do you want me, Mingyu?” Jeonghan whispers, tracing his thumb over Mingyu’s Adam’s apple. “On my back? On my knees?”

“I want… I want you to be honest with me,” Mingyu says.

“What?”

“I know it’s not what we do, but I need– I need a little honesty, hyung,” he says. He swallows roughly. “Do you not want me to see other people?”

Jeonghan stares up at Mingyu unseeingly, he feels like he’s falling. Falling, falling, falling. He hopes he hits the ground soon.

“What makes you ask that?” Jeonghan manages, trying very hard to keep his tone neutral.

“Your reaction to Minghao,” Mingyu replies. “Even when I told you nothing happened, you still looked… I don’t know, but you didn’t look happy about it. So I want to know, do you not want me to see other people?”

“Does it matter?” Jeonghan asks. “I’m not your boss, or your boyfriend. You can do whatever you want.”

“It matters,” Mingyu says. “Of course it matters. I never– I never want you to look at me like that again. I don’t think I could take it. You were looking at me like– like I was cruel, like I was being cruel. I didn’t mean to be cruel, hyung.”

Jeonghan swallows, looking away from Mingyu. The truth is stuck in the back of his throat like a held back cough; don’t see other people. Love me. Only me.

“You can do whatever you want,” Jeonghan says again. Why hasn’t he hit the ground yet?

“But what do you want?” Mingyu asks again, stubbornly, insistently. “You never say what you want, hyung. I feel like I’m going crazy. Is this not what you want? Us, together?”

“Together?” Jeonghan croaks out, suddenly hitting the ground– it shatters underneath him like glass, sends him tumbling further and further down. Hot lava swells up underneath him. “What do you mean, together?”

“I don’t know, hyung,” Mingyu says, getting increasingly desperate. He looks like he wants to shake Jeonghan, like he wishes he could shake him like a magic eight ball and force an answer out of him. “That’s the point, I don’t know. I have no idea.”

“I don’t–” Jeonghan starts, but the words get stuck in the back of his throat again, and despite how hard he tries not to, he cries.

Mingyu is startled for a second, staring wide eyed down at Jeonghan who’s started to cry openly. The sobs rip out of him harsh and ugly, every one of them forced out of him against his will.

Jeonghan tries to push Mingyu off him, and for a second he thinks Mingyu lets him– but what Mingyu does is roll onto his side, pulling Jeonghan into his chest. Mingyu curls around him, and he lets him weep until his throat is raw with it.

When Jeonghan speaks again, it’s the rawest he’s ever been. It hurts. He feels like Mingyu has seen him more than naked; he’s seen under Jeonghan’s skin, into his bones and his heart and Mingyu has held onto him anyway. Jeonghan doesn’t understand why.

“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan sniffles, feeling very pathetic. “I’m sorry, Mingyu. You didn’t ask for this, you… you just wanted an answer. You didn’t want this.”

“That’s not true,” Mingyu says, softly. His hand comes up to stroke the back of Jeonghan’s head, smoothing over his hair. “I want this, if this is you– if this is part of you, I want it too. I just never asked for it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.”

“How do you do that, Mingyu?” Jeonghan asks. “How do you just say things like that? How do you ask for what you want?”

“Because I think you need to hear it,” Mingyu replies. “An eye for an eye, right?” He pauses, his hand stilling on the back of Jeonghan’s neck, fingers threading through his hair. “I don’t want to see other people. I just want you, hyung.”

Jeonghan squeezes his eyes shut. “Why is the truth so hard?”

“I don’t know,” Mingyu says. “Is it easier to lie, though?”

Jeonghan considers this for a moment before saying, “not anymore. I thought that maybe I could keep lying if it was just to myself and not to you. But I don’t like lying to you, Mingyu. Despite what it may seem like.”

“Tell me the truth, then.”

“I…” Jeonghan starts, swallowing hard. He’s clinging onto Mingyu’s shoulders. “I don’t want you to see other people, I don’t– just me. Only me. Don’t fuck anyone but me.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, like it’s easy. Like it’s not terrifying and horrible and frightening. “I won’t.”

“Why?” Jeonghan asks.

“Because I don’t need anyone else. I just need you.”

“That’s…”

“Not possible? It is, though. I’ve already been doing it for… how long has it been, hyung? We’ve been fucking on and off for a year or so, haven’t we? I haven’t slept with anyone else for a year. Just you.”

Finally, Jeonghan pulls away enough to look at Mingyu again. And Mingyu’s eyes are filled with earnesty, and something else. Something soft and malleable.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “And I never needed anything else, I never… I wanted more, of course. But it was enough, just being able to be with you like that, because I could tell you weren’t ready and you didn’t want more. But I don’t think that’s true anymore.”

“It’s not,” Jeonghan says. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes again. “More and more, I find myself wanting to… share things with you. Date nights, and holding hands, and… stuff like that. Things that people who just fuck every now and then don’t do.”

“I want that too, hyung.”

Jeonghan starts crying again. He wipes at his face angrily, frustrated with himself. Mingyu pulls his hands away from his face and wipes his tears away for him, and he kisses Jeonghan’s eyelids gently.

Oh, what is Jeonghan gonna do with a love like this?

Re: [FILL] synonyms for confession

[furniished]

i figured the wonhui suggestion in the prompt would unleash. something in someone and i'm so glad it was you!! i'm getting hints of your anne dc fic with the language here, and it's effective now as it was then even for possible idolverse.

i'm soooo intrigued by the way junhui sees wonwoo, calling out his regret at doing something so unlike him - but ww refusing to admit it?? what is love but knowing someone so well that you know it wouldn't work out... BUT ALSO wonwoo knowing that junhui is capable of a certain love and wanting to accept it... ++ the idea of selfishness! what really is selfish in this case, esp for someone who doesn't want to hurt or be hurt. oof!! so much to think about, so much to feeeel for these two - thank u for filling! <3

Re: [FILL] i fear you may see my heart

[yoonouvre]

this was SOOOO good. i love the way you wrote it, it's difficult to express any particular thing in it because it has exactly EVERYTHING i was envisioning when i gave this prompt. jh thinking that there might be something between mh and mg because,
"Jeonghan would look at Mingyu, but Mingyu would be looking at Minghao." I SCREAMED
jh crying when they were in bed because he had been stripped bare, body and soul and it must've been so tempting to lie again like he does everytime it felt like someone has called his bluff but this time he just.... couldn't. it was so nice to read, thank you for writing :)

Re: [FILL]: we still have a long way to go

[yoonouvre]

thank you so much for reading this :) it is very interesting to write jeonghan and chan dynamics because there is a LOT to unpack which makes it a lot more fun.
even i feel like there is a very niche interest for dystopia aus which is very sad because there is so much that can be done especially with the mv ideas :(

[FILL]: here in my palms (lays my heart)

[yoonouvre]

Ship/Member: seungcheol/jeonghan, seungcheol/original characters (background)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: elements of a curse (if you want to look at it that way), having so much love in yourself it makes you desperate, losing that love in yourself which also makes you desperate, this is word vomit
Permission to remix: Please ask
800+ words, not edited ao3 link
I'm not sure if this was what the prompter was expecting but this strayed away from what i was aiming for

***

The issue with Choi Seungcheol was that he was born with a heart bigger than his body. The organ in his chest cavity filled with all the love that seemingly had no way out. Maybe that was the reason he was so willing to be in a relationship with anyone who asked. It was as if he was saying, "here you are, I see you, be with me and relieve me of the burden that is weighing down my heart."

But the thing was that his relationships didn't last long. He remembers being in love and then being the only one in love. Maybe it was a curse, having so much love inside himself. Maybe they saw it on him, hanging around his neck like an x-ray scan. His heart beating visibly, his ribs open and stretched out like hands beckoning someone in, "please come in, love me and let me love you too."

It might have been scary for them, he would always reason with himself. Not everyone wanted to share that burden. Every relationship that ended left him feeling a bit lighter but gave him a bit of emptiness in exchange. He didn't know what was better, his heart heavy with love or the lack of it with every failed relationship.

It became a well known thing among his peers, some people thought he had no dignity left because of the amount of times his lovers had left him behind, if he could even call them that. But there was not one time where he regretted anything. It was life and it was his choice, how could he ever regret loving someone?

It felt like he was walking with a flashing sign on himself, "love me, please love me, i have so much of it i don't know what to do with it please take it."

Jihoon had once called him a masochist, asked him why he would go heart first in a relationship that he knew was not going to work out. Seungcheol told him he wouldn't understand.

But then there came a time when the love inside him had depleted so much it felt like there was nothing left, not a drop for himself. And so from then he started finding people who would help him fill it back. Four different relationships not lasting for over three months, he was broken. Was he not loveable?

Now it felt like the sign around his neck had changed. "love me, please love me, i don't think i have any more left, please help me and give it back."

Out of the four relationships three were at least able to help him give some of the love even if it wasn't what he was giving them. The feelings of love left unrequited but given back in the form of like, he would take it. He would take anything he could get his hands on.

It was the last one that had left him inevitably heartbroken even though he knew it wouldn't last. Maybe it was because it left him wondering if he could keep on going anymore. It felt like he was giving up and he didn't want to. The little plant of hope in his heart withering away. He couldn't let it die, he'd try to keep it alive even if it was drop by drop.

Wonwoo thought Seungcheol was an idiot for staying in loveless relationships that left him feeling the way he did. Seungcheol thought Wonwoo was a good friend for not calling him desperate. Wonwoo could be brutally honest to a fault but he wasn't cruel.

With how Wonwoo was towards Seungcheol and his affinity to relationship failures, he was surprised when he set him up for a date. Yoon Jeonghan, Wonwoo tells him, you'll like him. When Seungcheol asked him why he thought so he only said he's just like you. He didn't elaborate further and they left it at that.

When Seungcheol got Jeonghan's number they continued to talk further on the other man's condition that they don't show each other how they look until their date. Seungcheol thought Jeonghan was interesting. So now he knew that Jeonghan loved strawberries but not what his eyes looked like.

They finally set up a date and told each other where to sit and what they'll wear so that it's easy for them to find each other. Seungcheol hadn't been that excited for a date in years.

When he walked in he saw his date sitting there in the exact outfit he was told he'd be wearing, sitting at the table right by the window like they had discussed. The sunlight filtering through casted beams around him that made him look like some kind of divine being. Dressed in a black turtleneck with long black wispy hair curling around his ears, was sitting his inevitable doom.

And when he looked up to see Seungcheol, he gave him a sweet smile with closed lips, a hand raised up in a wave. That was when Seungcheol knew Yoon Jeonghan was either going to settle himself inside his chest and weld his ribs back or break his heart and leave him bloody.

Re: [FILL] too funny to laugh about

[furniished]

i really like how you paint a picture of jun here that's partially through wonwoo's eyes - not really sure if he's interpreting things correctly, given jun's opacity - but at the same time provides the reader enough information to be like, PLEASE just kiss already... "don't sit where you shit" is such a good ellieism (use of [mis]translation/effective and slightly dad-coded humor). i keep fixating on jun cutting the conversation short by suddenly asking if he's going back inside out of nowhere T_T hang in there jww...

Re: [FILL] feelin the like

[arundels]

I SCREAMED LAUGHING THIS IS SO FUNNY IM LITERALLY IN HYSTERICS

THIS SEGMENT ESPECIALLY IDKY:

jeonghan | 01/01/2023 1:29 AM
go to bed, @ kmmngyu
mantiger | 01/01/2023 1:29 AM
OMG
wonu | 01/01/2023 1:30 AM
@ jeonghan don't

also when drunk mingyu was like "HAPPY YEAR" hahahahaha

idk how you created such a RICH WORLD in literally... 20+ discord messages?? this is so so so funny thank you for this

Re: [FILL] synonyms for confession

[hyojungss]

thank you so much hwa i'm glad you enjoyed it :) as much as the jolaurie reality kills me, i couldn't bear to do that to wonhui, and at the end of the day i don't really believe wonwoo would be that desperate unless he was really in love with someone which... that level of desperation is difficult to see in an average idolverse context. so although it was a bit of a thought experiment, i see this as wonwoo and jun both acting out of character simply because they are acting in what they perceive to be the best interest of the other person. wonwoo thinks jun wants romance (more) and jun thinks wonwoo wants practicality (more). and although they know each other so well and they're not really wrong, they're sort of hyperfixating on the wrong things, and losing sight of what the other has already decided to give up on. they really are so silly :')

Re: [FILL] synonyms for confession

[hyojungss]

omg when i was writing this i knew it felt and sounded so much like the 8jun confession i wrote for the anne fic LOL (everything i write is a remix of something i already wrote) but at the same time, i really was basing this one more on the jolaurie scene which i think shows how similar they are as "please don't" confessions (a parallel i have noted in a previous post). the recipient of the confession giving a stream of consciousness rejection that is full of (platonic) love for the confessor....

what is love but knowing someone so well that you know it wouldn't work out... YEAH.... :_) it really is all about the Knowing. and the complication. they just have a lot of issues to work through... and being wwjn fan i believe they can do it!! thank you for reading and commenting <3

Re: [FILL]: we still have a long way to go

[lachrymosy]

Oh, I really enjoyed reading this! I could not have envisioned this interpretation of the prompt but I love it. I love how you took the Hot mv and started fleshing out a world around it and the little hints of what is going on beyond this moment. And then the storyline here hurts so much! I thought it was so compelling how Jeonghan is trying to be a brat, the suggestion that he's doing it to alleviate Chan's fears and distract them both—it's just really painful and interesting and I loved reading it <3

[FILL] close enough for comfort

[svteen]

Ship/Member: Chan & Soonyoung & Wonwoo
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: photographer!wonwoo, ghost hunter (of sorts)!hoshi, interviewer!chan, this all makes better sense in my head ok
Permission to remix: Yes
Word Count: 1.1k

***

[a/n heavily (heavily) referenced the quote source in this one lol]

***

This is what Chan imagines: the photographer, Jeon Wonwoo, dipping his head under the black hood of his camera to look through the lens; and his partner, Kwon Soonyoung, gently pulling aside the owner of the house being photographed to distract them with questions and put them at ease about the two near-strangers inside their home. Wonwoo’s lens is focused on an open doorway, beyond which lies an old bedroom. The room looks lived in: cushions of varying sizes and patterns lie at the head of the oakwood bed; a rocking-chair, upon which rests a knitted throw, is to its left, hidden partly in the darkness behind the doorframe; a cardboard box filled with odds and ends—yarn, needles, spools of thread—peeks out from underneath it. A potted plant, a large dreamcatcher, and a painting in shades of brown and blue hang above the headboard. The painting depicts two figures, one in light and the other in shadow, but their faces, despite gazing out towards the viewer, are obscured by a swathe of paint; no matter how hard one looks, their features can’t be discerned.

Chan looks up from the photograph in question to his laptop screen. Wonwoo’s seated in front of a blank wall in his studio, arms folded across the table before him, looking exactly the same as he did two years ago when he and Chan last met. He even has on the same glasses. “I didn’t expect him to be of any help at all,” Wonwoo’s saying about Soonyoung wryly, his voice breaking up on occasion due to the poor connection, “but I was surprised to find myself proven wrong.”

The perfect moment to interject—they’re only a few minutes into their conversation, and this is around the time he usually mentions it—Chan asks if he can start recording. To his surprise, Wonwoo says no, telling him that he would rather talk first and be interviewed another time. Chan pauses for a moment but says he doesn’t mind; secretly, he begins agonizing over what they say to one another, imagining each word disintegrating as they speak. “Was it difficult, making the decision to move countries for the sake of your work?” Chan asks, trying to keep his worry out of his voice. He pulls his notebook and pen closer, ready to jot down anything Wonwoo says that he might want to return to when they’re actually recording.

Noise from Wonwoo’s end of the call has him looking to his right in the middle of a sentence. “I brought lunch!” someone says, and must be brandishing shopping bags because Chan hears the rustling through the laptop. A moment later, Soonyoung’s face shows up in the camera frame. “Oh, was the interview today?” he asks. “Dino-yah! Have you eaten?”

“Do you still insist on calling me that?” Chan replies, and the conversation quickly devolves from there. However much of a comfort it is to catch up with old friends, even if only over an online call conducted well before sunrise in order to match time zones, there’s a reason he avoids interviewing people he knows if he can help it: it’s impossible to stay professional. Between bites of kimchi fried rice—apparently, the food in several of Koreatown’s restaurants reminds them of home—the three of them jump from topic to topic, discussing Wonwoo’s temporary move to the States and his subsequent rise in success, the publication of monographs, Soonyoung’s visit and its extension, his memories of learning to dance in the academy Chan’s parents still run in Iksan, Wonwoo’s first impression of Chan as a freshman, what Joshua’s doing right now, what Jihoon’s doing right now, what Mingyu’s doing right now. Through it all, Chan keeps his eyes to the screen but his pen to paper; he scribbles pieces of their conversation in his notebook to return to later, a frantic attempt at preserving, and they become a strange list: ghost stories, Shirley Jackson, stereo cards. His biggest fear is one he’s painfully familiar with due to mishaps in previous interviews, when noticing the tape recorder’s static numbers or replaying a jumbled phone recording: the acute dread of losing good sentences. He knows his internet is as stable as ever; his anxiety stems from the American end, with whole phrases getting lost not only in the connection but also in the delay, when they accidentally speak over each other.

At one point, Wonwoo talks about the inspiration behind Haunted Houses. “I didn’t notice it myself,” he says. “When Soonyoung first accompanied me on one of my shoots in New York—this was for one of the group catalogs I featured in, No Place Like Home—he talked to the owner of the house we were working on and found out the house had a ghost. Then for Parameters, I photographed the houses of thirteen people with agoraphobia, and they all mentioned having ghosts in their houses.” The way he says it—ghosts in their houses—passes no judgment. Apparently this is also the time Soonyoung decides to extend his stay, and the two start their hunt for haunted houses. One takes the pictures, the other records the stories of the people who live there, and a pattern emerges: to the owners, the ghosts are a presence not unwanted but comforting. A woman named Denise talks of how when her family first moved in, doors would be locked and the television turned off at night if anyone forgot to do the same before going to sleep; she once woke up early to find someone sitting at the foot of her bed, wearing a flannel shirt, their face blurred to her vision to the point she couldn’t make out any of their features—just like the painting above the headboard. She told nobody of the incident until a friend of hers, a psychic, casually mentioned having a dream in which a figure wearing a flannel shirt was sitting on Denise’s bed. Another person in another house, a child named Mia, tells Soonyoung of the ghost that plays with her toy car every evening, driving it up as far as the roof.

Chan can’t help but wonder if Soonyoung’s told Wonwoo about the first house he lived in, if that’s where his lack of judgment stems from. Perhaps Soonyoung’s natural inclination towards belief over skepticism has rubbed off on his best friend; Wonwoo had always seemed much more cynical when in university.

Before long, their hour together is at an end, and the trio say their goodbyes, with Wonwoo promising to make time later on during the week for a recorded session. Chan exits out of the meeting and looks down at his notebook to find his writing has skewed across the lines, the words becoming smaller and harder to read, often even overlapping with other words to create a convoluted mess.

He sighs. This will be hell to type up.

Re: [FILL]: we still have a long way to go

[yoonouvre]

thank you so much for reading this :) the dytopian idea was actually the reason why i chose to write this because it just seemed very fitting to me. thank you for the prompt :)

Re: [FILL] succession of shelters

[svteen]

ohh this was excellently written op, and i can see from the comments i'm not the only one who related to the content. thank you for sharing this with us!

Re: [FILL] and the end of the world would be so lovely

[svteen]

this was painful to read but a wonderful character study, not just of jeonghan but also the few lines interspersed of other members <3

Re: [FILL] close enough for comfort

[st8rgazer]

HELLO! thank u for doing this fill?? firstly thank you for reading the source material (one of my fave essays/articles ever) & referencing it so heavily.

NEXT. omg i love the way this flows - even if it's fast-paced the references to their shared history, their past, chan talking about stuff he knows about them is SO ME coded. seriously! & also the entire fact that this is chan pov (CHAN INTERVIEWER IM CRYING)

would love to read more of ur stuff pls drop ur twt/ao3!!!

Re: [FILL] close enough for comfort

[svteen]

originally i was just going to write an interview based on the quote but then i clicked on the source and i couldn't help it. i was blown away. i just had to incorporate that into the fill lol so ty for providing the link! also i actually haven't published anything outside of 17hols in years (i deactivated my old anime-centric ao3 lol) help

Re: [FILL] i fear you may see my heart

[(Anonymous)]

oh no this was so much and that last line is a dagger

Re: [FILL] close enough for comfort

[st8rgazer]

thank u for clicking on the source! (& i'll just check out ur other 17hols fills soon :-))

Re: [FILL] and the end of the world would be so lovely

[hwarium]

thank you for reading and leaving a comment! writing this felt like a lucid dream in itself so I'm glad you enjoyed it <3

[FILL] of glory, crowned

[fleurissons]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Mingyu, Jeonghan cameo
Major Tags: Violence, Minor Character Death, Implied Parental Abuse
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Lovers to Enemies, somewhat an arthur/lancelot AU, truly just an ode to Excalibur DK, when it’s love and not hatred that breaks you
Permission to remix: Yes

A/N: op thank you for prompting this! this is my first seokgyu ever and I had a lot, like A LOT of fun <33


//


​Metres below the silvery surface of calm waters, a bright blade lay in wait on the soft and sandy lakebed. As foretold, under a cloudless sky on the eighteenth night of the second month, the world welcomed the prince destined to wield the sword. His birth marked the death of three: his mother, a beloved queen, of gruesome childbirth; his mid-wife, a famed sorceress, hanged for her king's greed; and a heart, that of a benevolent man, lost to rage and grief.


//


Seokmin limped to his quarters in the dark, taking care not to be seen. He loved his father enough to do so, even though the circumstances of his upbringing were never a secret. From the yangbans at court to the cooks in the kitchen, everyone knew how the king regularly delivered Seokmin’s punishment for being alive. He had heard from a young nursemaid how his father had coveted an heir enough to turn to magic for answers. Unfortunately, the king did not understand the price when he agreed to the terms.

Now, Seokmin was the one paying it. In blood and tears.

He slid open the door and found a familiar face waiting on his bed.

“Seokmin,” Mingyu started, tone steeped in concern.

Seokmin mustered up his best smile. “It’s not as bad this time.”

The young officer shook his head. They were used to this routine. Seokmin would come back from the king’s quarter with a fresh set of wounds and Mingyu would tend to him wordlessly, intimately. Tonight, instead of fetching the gilded tray upon which the cotton gauzes and medicinal herbs were placed, Mingyu came to stand before him.

“I have something to show you.”

“What is it?”

Seokmin stilled when Mingyu slowly disrobed him. His gaze bored into Seokmin, even as his hands travelled the breadth of Seokmin’s shoulders and snaked around his body. An uncomfortable wince escaped him when Mingyu touched a still-bleeding cut. Then Mingyu said something—in a language Seokmin did not understand, in a tongue never taught to him by the scholars assigned to deliver his education—and Seokmin felt the pain leave him in a heartbeat.

Mingyu released him and stepped away. Seokmin watched him, uncertain, and slowly put one hand behind him. He gasped. The welts on his back were gone. Not healed—gone, as if they were never there to start. Seokmin had known Mingyu since they were young boys. They spent happy years running around the palace, leaving mud trails on newly mopped floors, and falling through canvas doors in playful tumbles. He never knew.

He never knew.

“You—“

He had magic. All this time. Hiding in plain sight, in a palace that had abhorred and outlawed his existence since the night of Seokmin’s birth.

“Do you hate me?”

“No,” Seokmin answered instantly.

“Are you scared of me?”

I’m scared for you, he thought. “Mingyu, you can never do that again. My father has eyes and ears everywhere—“ Seokmin shuddered at the thought of Mingyu wearing a necklace of rope, his feet kicking in the air, face drained of colours. “I can’t lose you. Please.”

He had seen what loss did to men. It rendered the compassionate heartless, turned kings into inebriates, and transformed fathers into monsters.

“Does it hurt?”

“What?” Mingyu made a vague gesture to his back so Seokmin would catch on to his meaning. “No, the pain is gone.“

“Then I will do it again,” he said firmly.

“Mingyu,” Seokmin pleaded through gritted teeth. “Do your parents know?”

“Only Abeoji, since he passed the gift on to me."

"And what did he say?"

"We don't talk about the important things," Mingyu shrugged. "Keep your head down and work hard. Climb up the ranks. Don't cause your mother any grief. He says what every father says.”

Not every father, Seokmin thought.

“Those are the important things.” He grabbed Mingyu’s shoulders, so he had no choice but to look at him. “Listen to me: you can never do that again. Do you hear me?”

“Tell me you understand,” Mingyu returned, voice growing quieter. “The reason I would risk death.”

And Seokmin did. Seokmin understood what tormented Mingyu’s heart; his demons wore the same faces. Whenever he put Mingyu flat on his back out on the training ground, Seokmin desperately wanted to climb over him. The desire to discover the sounds he would make if Seokmin mouthed along his sun-kissed shoulder was ever-growing.

He stepped forward, fingers curled around one end of Mingyu’s silk jeondae. Seokmin pulled once, a harsh tug. The sash came loose.

 
//


Mingyu kept his promise. The punishment got worse as Seokmin got older, but Mingyu kept his promise. He cared for Seokmin with his warm hands and spoke only words Seokmin could recognise.

“What else can you do?”

Mingyu turned to him, bright eyes coloured with vivid surprise. His hair, undone, spilt like ink over Seokmin’s silk pillowcase. Seokmin wanted to be inside him again, to be wrapped in his intoxicating warmth.

“Not much. Enough to entertain honoured guests at a party, I suppose. The gisaengs would lose their livelihood to me.” He rolled on top of Seokmin, kissing a line down his neck. “I mean, look, the prospective ladies of the court have already lost their precious wangseja to me.”

Seokmin pinched his side lightly. Mingyu squirmed, then laughed against Seokmin’s cheek. His body shook with amusement and since the king had been away from the capital for a week, Seokmin allowed himself to join him.

“Answer the question.”

“Other than healing, my gift lies in illusion.” Mingyu’s lips found his ear. He nudged Seokmin to turn his face to the side. “Here, watch.”

Doing as Mingyu bid, Seokmin paid close attention to the glass lantern placed above a low bedside table. The shadows it cast on the wall seemed ordinary at first, until Seokmin started making out shapes—and, in time, a story. He recognised the first one. An old legend. A bear, a tiger, a cave. Then, once he had visited the past, Mingyu travelled to the future.

“There is a prophecy known amongst my people. A lady lives beneath a silver lake. She safeguards a sword that promises freedom. Once a king, the prince must come to her. Take what is his by right and bring light into the world.”

Seokmin stared at the dancing flames. “I don’t understand.”

“You will."


//


Seokmin sat motionless in a room of shattered porcelain and spilt wine. Before him, a king lay dead. A minute ago, he had launched into a passionate speech about their kingdom and its people, and how Seokmin could never be trusted to lead them. The fiery monologue had forewarned a terrible night, but Seokmin had not prepared for the king’s face to turn blue mid-sentence. Within seconds, he had gone from thumping his fist against his chest in a silent war cry to lying flat on his back, unmoving.

Down the hall, someone laughed in delight. Seokmin snapped out of his trance.

“Call the physician!” Seokmin barked to the attending servant, rushing to kneel by the king’s side. “Hurry! What are you waiting for?!” He demanded when the servant remained frozen. Seokmin turned around to repeat his order, only to find her gone, Mingyu standing in her place.

Seokmin faltered. “W-what? What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah.” Mingyu looked apologetic. “I didn’t know.”

It was summer, and the heat was sweltering, but cold perspiration trickled down Seokmin’s back. “What? Mingyu, what do you mean? What have you done?”

“I’ve never seen how it works on a man. The spell to stop one’s heart.”

Aghast, Seokmin scrabbled away from him until his back was against the wall. He stared at Mingyu, then at his late father, and back at Mingyu again. There was fascination dancing in his brown eyes. Those hands, which had only ever nourished Seokmin’s life, had now committed an unforgivable sin.

“You did this?" Seokmin did not understand. The king didn't know about them, he was sure of it. Did Mingyu not have faith in his protection? Even if he did fear being found out, they could have run. Seokmin would have run with him. "Mingyu, why?”

Mingyu canted his head as though the answer was obvious. He sauntered over to Seokmin, lowering himself to him. “Had I not, you would be dead before you could become king.”

Seokmin's eyes widened.

“I never—“

“You didn’t have to,” he said sweetly, leaning in to catch Seokmin’s lips.

This was not for him, Seokmin realised as Mingyu gently coaxed his way inside. It never was. The king wanted a worthy heir. Mingyu wanted a divine saviour. Seokmin was never any of those things. Seokmin was a son and a lover. Now he was none of those things, either. If Mingyu wanted to be free, Seokmin would fulfil his wish. This was the least he could do.

He kissed Mingyu back with equal fervour, cornering him against the dining table. Mingyu hummed happily against his mouth. It gave Seokmin time to reach for the dagger he knew Mingyu wore at his waist. Once the handle was in his grip, he plunged the blade into the soft flesh of Mingyu’s belly. Mingyu withdrew; his movements were sluggish, mind still floating in the clouds. He looked down. Lines of incomprehension decorated his forehead.

“Seokmin-ah?”

Fresh blood stained the unsullied steel and blossomed across Mingyu’s robe, spreading as rapidly as frost grew around Seokmin’s heart. Mingyu let out a rattled gasp, his hands clawing at Seokmin’s wrist. He twisted the blade. Mingyu screamed. His flesh made a soft noise as his body unravelled at Seokmin’s hand. Swallowing the last of his humanity, Seokmin jerked his arm back. A sickening sound spliced the air, severing the thread that held them together forever.

“Leave," Seokmin commanded.

An injury like that, on top of the sounds he’d made—the royal guards would seize him before he could exit the gates. Mingyu would die, undoubtedly, but Seokmin did not have to watch the light abandon his eyes. He had lost enough for one night.

“This…” Mingyu coughed up blood, droplets of crimson dotting his sleeves. “This is not mercy, is it?”

He turned away from Mingyu. His father was dead. Seokmin had to bury him. The kingdom he left behind was Seokmin’s to rule. Illusions had no place in his reign. 

“No.”

Mercy? Never. It was punishment. When the grim reapers came for him, Mingyu would have no one to hold his hand. When they weighed his crimes in the afterlife, there would be no forgiveness to alleviate his sentence. He would walk a never-ending road in hell.

And, when the time came, Seokmin would join him.


//
  

“Jeonha.”

Yoon Jeonghan bowed upon entering the Great Hall. He had returned at last after a fortnight lost to hunting a ghost; an important task entrusted to him and four other capable men. The general had questions and objections, initially. Having come from a yangban family, however, meant that he knew better than to test the forgiving nature of a man freshly thrust into greatness. The crown had never fit a head more.

“My congratulations on your ascension.”

The king stared him down, eyes dark and emotionless. Jeonghan remembered the young man whom he had witnessed training with a mid-ranking officer just short of a year prior, his bonguk geom shining in his hold. There was kindness in him; a word seemingly foreign to the figure sitting on the throne.

“May your reign be peaceful and prosperous,” the general continued carefully.

“Kim Mingyu,” the king finally spoke, tone cutting. “What news do you have?”

“We have not found a body. Perhaps foxes or other beasts ate what remained of him; there have been recent sightings—“

“He’s alive.” Jeonghan frowned, failing to see how one would come to that conclusion. The king rose, his long black robe sweeping the floor as he walked past the general. They said this was the only colour he would wear even after the mourning period had ended. “Fetch me a scholar well-versed in geography. There is a lake I must locate.”

His confusion deepened. A lake? What did a king want with a lake? Jeonghan's curiosity got the better of him. “May I inquire, jeonha, what is it that you intend to do?”

The king halted and cast Jeonghan a sideways glance. From where he stood, Jeonghan could see the golden flecks in his inky irises. 

“Cleanse our peninsula from a stubborn plague.” His lips stretched to an eerie smile; a beast-like grin the general had seen on tigers moments before they pounced on their prey. “Magic.”


//

---

yangbans: members of wealthy, ruling-class families, typically those working as civil servants or military officers / jeondae: a belt worn over military uniform / gisaengs: courtesans / wangseja: crown prince / jeonha: (to address the king) Your Majesty / bonguk geom: single-edged sword

Re: [FILL] of glory, crowned

[southern_glock]

!!!!!! Just !!!!!!! I'm going to print this fill out and eat it. It was soooo good and well written. I love what you have came up with from my prompt. And Mingyu just being, I did this for you. And Seokmins last, ferocious kiss with him. Just, aagghh, I want to know what happens if and when Seok find Gyu.

Besides that, I'm glad you had fun writing my fill! I will forever reread this.

Re: [FILL]: it's easy to lie

[slytherminie]

you know me I do be evil mwah mwah

Re: [FILL] worm.

[slytherminie]

<3 glad to be able to wow you dear