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

[FILL]: I Must Go On

[thesolemneyed]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Junhui
Major Tags: MCD
Additional Tags: Reincarnation, Bookshops, Melancholy
Permission to remix: Yes

i can only apologise actually.
ao3 twt

Re: [FILL] left behind

[(Anonymous)]

oh ouch. this was cathartic and lovely, thank you for writing this

Re: minor insults

[arundels]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Mingyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: formula 1 au, teammates + rivals, your teammate's ascendency coinciding with your decline, jeonghan character study, a story 50% told in articles interviews radio messages, early 2010s sebmark reskinned for gyuhan (jh=webber; mg=vettel)
Permission to remix: Yes

***

This got incredibly out of hand in terms of word count so it is here on ao3.

"I made my own decision about what was best for my race. I don't think the team order was right or fair. Which is — I mean, I can see now that he's upset. And all I can do is apologise. But I know that it doesn't really help with his feelings."
—Kim Mingyu, during his post-race interview following the 'multi 21' incident at Malaysia 2025

"That's just how it always goes, isn't it?"
—Yoon Jeonghan, walking away from reporters after the same race

Re: [FILL] you're my vice, you're my muse

[astralumina]

aaaaah i'm really happy you enjoyed it!! this was my first ever haoshua so i was a bit nervous about capturing the emotions but i'm really glad the yearning came across as much as i had hoped. thank you for reading and happy new year

[FILL] a footnote will do

[nunssaum]

Ship/Member: Boo Seungkwan/Lee Chan
Major Tags: unhappy ending.
Additional Tags: childhood friends, confessions, rejection, unrequited love.
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Posted in AO3.

hourglass

[tearstrung]

Ship/Member: junhao
Major Tags: complicated relationship
Additional Tags: established relationship, realizing that it might be too late (or maybe not), ambiguous/hopeful ending
Permission to remix: please ask!!
ao3 version here

op, this came out a little more emo than i intended. but i hope it fits!!


***

When Minghao closes the door behind him, the apartment goes completely dark. It blocks out the single light right above the doorbell, the one that flickers and homes a collection of fluttering, bulb-infatuated moths.

He was supposed to switch it out months ago, put in something new and vibrantly white rather than a lackluster gold. That was in October when Junhui first pointed it out, when the moths were few and far between, finding sanctuary in a place that was no longer one. Now it’s January and cold.

Junhui had said how it made their apartment look uninviting and not lived in, but Minghao can’t help but believe that’s due to other reasons, not the dying bulb.

It’s something else, deep inside their apartment, beyond the dust-hemmed curtains that speak to the floor more than Minghao and Junhui do to each other. Something hidden behind their doors, that all remain perpetually shut, creating a barrier between them that could be broken down with a set of curled knuckles, a simple knock. Something that could easily be discovered by Minghao’s side of the bed, which has been made for weeks, pillow fluffed, sheets tightly tucked and untouched; the body-shaped dip in the couch that’s been molded by the weight of Minghao’s body.

Junhui has yet to mention the light since. But Minghao’s reminded of the exchange each time he gets home, late at night, when the flickering bulb is the only thing that welcomes him in. He has started whispering good night to it.

He drops his bag by the front door, slipping off his loafers and setting them on their rickety shoe rack. The laces of his shoes touch the ones of Junhui’s, crossing over each other. Minghao can’t seem to remember the last time he and Junhui shared anything similar, close together, fingers intertwined, legs tangled. He’s not sure if they’ve been in arms reach since fall.

The box of lightbulbs he bought a few days after Junhui mentioned the light by the door is still sitting where Minghao left them. The cardboard is shiny and glazed over, and the box shows no attempt of being opened. It reminds him of their bedroom door. He opens it then, pulling out a single bulb.

Minghao’s calves are aching, pressing into his skin, as he holds himself up on his tiptoes, shooing away moths, and apologizing to them for his disturbance. Their wings brush against his knuckles, over the tattoo needled into his skin that both he and Junhui have.

Everything goes dark again, as he unscrews the dying bulb. And everything goes bright, brighter, when he twists the new one in. The front door opens as he does so.

He turns his head, finding Junhui in the doorframe. The light casts a spotlight on him, showing the creases in his forehead that could be folded in by either late-night perplexity or finding Minghao — by just seeing him, even. Minghao still has the urge to reach forward and rub the wrinkles out, to maneuver Junhui’s skin back to where it belongs. Does he still have the right to touch?

“What are you doing?” Junhui asks, croaky. Minghao wonders if he was asleep. He wonders, too, if Junhui was up waiting for him. But that possibility seems less likely.

Minghao’s feet lay flat. His calves thank him, but it makes him feel small, uncomfortably so. “I changed the lightbulb.”

Junhui squints at him, then the light. He looks at the light longer than he does at Minghao.

“It’s late, Minghao.”

“I know,” Minghao says, swallowing. His throat feels tight, from lack of uses like this, and his feet grow antsy below him. “You can go back to sleep, I’m done now.”

Junhui looks away from the light then, his eyes meeting Minghao’s. His eyes look similar to the bulb that Minghao just unscrewed, losing their illuminance, but still homing a come-and-go glint deep inside. Minghao wonders if the shine is there on its own, or a reflection of the blinding light between them.

Whatever it is, Minghao wants to catch the shimmer between his palms like a firefly and never let it go.

“You should go to sleep too,” Junhui says, voice soft, caring. His tone makes something ache in Minghao’s chest.

Minghao nods, throat closing in around his words. “I will, soon. You go ahead.”

Junhui brings a hand to the door frame, fingers wrapping tightly around it. The bones are pressing into his skin, making it go pink before going white. Minghao realizes it's Junhui’s way to gain stability, as the next thing Junhui says tumbles from his lips in a wobbly, unsure rush.

“Come with me, Minghao.”

Minghao feels his lashes flutter like newly-birthed moth wings. “What?”

“Come to bed with me,” Junhui says, quieter.

He can barely look at Minghao now as if this is the first time he’s ever invited him to do so, to crawl under the same sheets, share the same space with hardly any extra between them. Junhui has asked countless times, for years now, but it’s been months since an inquiry such as this has slipped off his tongue.

And it hangs in the hair between them, buzzing like a cloud of bugs. Neither of them moves to swat the invitation away.

A thousand different questions swirl around in Minghao’s head, but he fears, that if he lets them out, Junhui will repeal his question, retreat back into their once-shared room, and never find it in himself to ask again. With Junhui, Minghao feels like they have too much time alone, to ponder and retrace every step they’ve taken that brought them to where they are now. Together, but not quite. They have all of this time, hours within the days, days within the weeks, weeks within the months, yet it doesn’t feel like enough to figure it out — figure them out.

Minghao isn’t sure when their hourglass will run out; if he’ll be able to predict when the last grain of sand drips before he can scoop it back up with his hands and try again, for a grain more. A moment more.

They might already be out of time, glass empty. Maybe they can find a way to flip the hourglass again.

“Okay,” he says eventually, fingers tightening around the lightbulb in his hands. It’s hot in his hand.

“Okay,” Junhui says back, lips twitching. Minghao wonders if he could be the reason for a smile to form there, even now.

Minghao’s side of the bed is cold and the pillowcase smells like nothing but a sheet, unused. Faintly, Minghao catches a whiff of Junhui’s shampoo, citrusy and clean, as he shifts on the opposite side of the bed. Minghao’s skin feels taut and prickly, stretched over his bones, unsure of how to lay and simply be here. He bought this bed, this mattress, the tan, linen sheets, all with Junhui, but it feels so unfamiliar, rather than something of his own.

Junhui’s body heat beside him is running hot, even with the empty space between them. But the space isn’t all that much — Minghao could bend his wrist, stretch his fingers, and have Junhui’s hand in his own if he wanted.

Junhui moves on the bed suddenly and Minghao can feel Junhui’s gaze on the side of his face. Minghao dares to look, holding his breath.

“Come closer,” Junhui whispers, half to Minghao, half into his pillowcase. Minghao does, without much thought. The sheets rustle beneath him, sliding against his skin, until his face is close enough to Junhui’s that they could share each other’s breaths. Minghao’s is still stuck in his throat.

A thumb presses into the inside of Minghao’s wrist, soft and without callus, exactly how he remembers it feeling. His heartbeat thumps against the pad of Junhui’s thumb and he wonders if Junhui notices it.

“I’m sorry,” Minghao says, although, he’s not sure for what exactly. Everything, maybe? There are too many things to apologize for, too many things that he is probably unaware need an apology. But he means it.

He knows it’s not enough, too little, but it’s a start.

Junhui blinks at him, thumbing into where Minghao’s wrist and palm meet. “Me too.”

Minghao slides his hands down and into Junhui’s because he wants to. And he hopes that he can.

Junhui doesn’t pull away.

[REMIX] you are the party that makes me feel my age

[thembocollector]

Ship/Member: gyuhan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: internet fighting, fandom metawank
Permission to remix: Yes

***

behold, a Monstrosity
here

Re: [FILL] succession of shelters

[corar]

thank you so much for giving this a chance and commenting the way you did!! it truly means the world to me that anyone can relate to stuff i write <3

[FILL] this year's spotify wrapped

[thembocollector]

Ship/Member: gyuhan
Major Tags: infidelity
Additional Tags: modern au; non-idolverse
Permission to remix: Yes

x posted on ao3

***

this year's spotify wrapped

Let me put something on, Mingyu said, eyeing Jeonghan warily. He was perched on the side of Jeonghan's bed. Mingyu had just cleaned up mysterious tissues off the floor. Sanitized his hands afterwards, of course—he was no animal.

Anything will do, Jeonghan said.

Mingyu began to type in his username but Jeonghan put his hand over Mingyu's own and went to his Spotify Activity page.

That's you, he said. Just click your name instead.

***

Mingyu had taken photos of Jeonghan.

Want to see? he said, holding his camera out.

Sure, Jeonghan replied. Their fingers brushed together momentarily.

***

Mingyu's water bottle was on the floor, right next to Jeonghan's hairbrush. Why was his hairbrush on the floor? He asked Jeonghan this, but it came out rather interrogative.

It fell, he replied, curtly this time round. Mingyu caught his reflection in Jeonghan's mirror and looked away.

***

It terrified Mingyu that there was a next time.

***

You're shaking, Jeonghan said, as Mingyu leaned over to suck him off.

He didn't even realize. He wasn't nervous or anything, but Jeonghan didn't believe him then, wanting to hold Mingyu instead. He resented Jeonghan for this.

Fuck you too, Mingyu said instead, bending downwards and swallowing Jeonghan whole.

***

Jeonghan's boyfriend was a strange man.

You're a strange man, Mingyu told him, drink in hand. Mingyu stared at Jeonghan's boyfriend the entire time he drank his bottle of lychee-flavored soju, straight from the rim.

Thanks, he said.

Mingyu didn't mean it as a compliment, but he let him think so.

***

My boyfriend thinks you're cool, Jeonghan said, his head in Mingyu's lap. He was absently carding his hands through Jeonghan's hair.

Thanks, Mingyu said. He didn't know what to do with this information.

He wants to meet you again, Jeonghan said.

Thanks, Mingyu repeated himself instead, feeling dumb.

***

Jeonghan grimaced as he drank the boxed wine Mingyu had brought for a friend's housewarming.

Drink up, Mingyu said, making full eye contact. Jeonghan looked away.

What are you doing tonight? Mingyu said, later on, while the rest of the group passed out; immobile and dumb with wine, amongst other things.

Nothing, he replied.

Can I come over?

Next time, he said.

***

Their legs bumped together whilst they ate together. It drove Mingyu crazy. He wanted to ruin Jeonghan and peel his skin apart.

This is like drunk food, Jeonghan said, devouring his burrito. Mingyu himself was barely drunk—Jeonghan was already flushed red. It looked pretty on him.

What do you want to do afterwards? Mingyu said, suddenly very interested in his tacos.

Do you want to come over?

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

[poppyseedheart]

YEAHHH! i loved this so so much, thank you for grabbing onto this prompt (i'd hoped it would get you, among others, hehe). I love the push/pull here between persona and truth, and how one doesn't seem to preclude the other. I love the separation and groundedness, the presence and absence. It was all so evocative here and I'm still sitting with this one!!

Re: [FILL] of glory, crowned

[klav]

Ooooh this is such a rich and gorgeous story... I love how you incorporated vocabulary from the time period, it adds so much to the world-building. And the imagery! Is stunning!! Some of my favorites: They spent happy years running around the palace, leaving mud trails on newly mopped floors, and falling through canvas doors in playful tumbles. + Seokmin sat motionless in a room of shattered porcelain and spilt wine. + His flesh made a soft noise as his body unravelled at Seokmin’s hand. + their last kiss... Wow what a ride. Thank you, I enjoyed this so much!!

Re: [FILL] late night talking

[klav]

This is super sweet... I love the balance between Joshua's emotions, his homesickness and loneliness vs. the deep comfort of Jeonghan's voice and attention :( There's so much affection and companionship here and I looooove the slight ambiguity of their relationship. "I just missed my-" is such a line! Yeah!!

Also, the hint of 97z is delicious hehe. I feel so warm now, thank you for sharing this!

Re: [FILL] you're my vice, you're my muse

[klav]

Minghao laughs, low and bright, and his hand reaches forward slowly across the bedsheets until he makes contact with Joshua’s fingers. “I mean, you can look at me. You don’t have to stop.” This is sooooo delicious and I love the tension you captured between them. Jeonghan's meddlesome comments are hilarious and I am obsessed with the idea of Joshua "accidentally" watching sexy fancams of Minghao AND THEN GETTING CAUGHT?! Priceless :') thank you for this!!

Re: [FILL] among other things

[klav]

OH this yearning!! I really like your Minghao characterization, how he's caught up in fantasies but too scared to acknowledge what he wants. He’s not sure what he’d do without this, without Mingyu who always touches him so gingerly, like Minghao is something precious and something worth being gentle with. Ahhhh that heavy potential of domesticity feels super true to gyuhao, it's perfect for them <3

Re: I relate to you who can’t relate

[klav]

AHHHHHHHHG THIS IS STUNNING. Jeonghan had never called him Jun, unlike their classmates and professors. He had insisted on learning Junhui’s name, the exact curl of the syllables, so that he could pronounce it the same way that Junhui’s parents did. These lines were like a sucker punch, as were so many others. Your take on the world of Inception is so so cool. Thank you for this!!

[FILL] spring, summer, winter blue

[st8rgazer]

Ship/Member: seokgyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: grief, expressed through ~poem~
Permission to remix: yeah!!

hi i realllyyy wanted to write this but there were no words in my head. so i decided to write a poem! which is probably not what you were expecting, but!!
mingyu is grieving seokmin here!

***

I carry you in a pearly thing,
a shiny bead hanging from my neck
a tiny thing, really

which glimmers in the light of the sun.

And
In spring, summer, and winter green,
when life wears me down,
you are a soft sheen.

Compliments aimed at the hollow of my throat
which, I’m sure, make you preen.

And during the
falling flowers, autumn red and blue,
I find myself asking you
to leave me a clue.

As the pearl at my neck bounds up and down
with every step, an overexcited teen,
footfalls heavy and weary as it thrashes against my neck

Fighting, desperately to escape the bounds of its realm
beneath my skin is a fluttering thing
of fear and of panic

ah—

Every night, I am covered in your grime,
and the glory of your shine,

not physical in the least, but it helps
at least to pretend,
to look at my palms, which have an imprint of you
lest I forget you were here
in my house twirling through the dark
in my kitchen by my side, jumping up and down
bounding through my heart,
smile a gorgeous arc on your face like the
winter, spring, and summer sun.

Re: I relate to you who can’t relate

[deadwine]

every time a fill is inexcusably deranged its you. always with the dream fics that fuck with me!!!

[REMIX] every lover's got a little dagger in their hand

[deadwine]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Seokmin
Major Tags: explicit sexual content, possible MCD
Additional Tags: ghost sex, possibly dream sex, sex illusion, historical au, King Seokmin, Mingyu is an unidentifiable entity
Permission to remix: Please ask
WC 570

A/N: The tags mostly cover all the things to look out for. I didn't tag dubcon because Seokmin is quite an eager participant, but I'm also unsure whether you can give your active consent to a ghost/entity you cannot see, so please tread ahead bearing that in mind. Sorry for bastardizing your baby, Vee.
***

Seokmin wakes with a start and finds his chambers plunged into darkness.

The moon shines high in the sky outside and when Seokmin feels around for the candle on his bedside , the heat stings his fingertips—half of it is still standing.

Seokmin doesn’t have to investigate what put out its fire. He can already sense it in the air, gripping the sheets next to his ankles, pressing down on his pillows.

It seems neither death nor magic can diminish the way Seokmin’s body intrinsically knows what is about to happen—it has been many, many years since Seokmin last touched Kim Mingyu but not a day has gone by when he forgot what it felt like.

He is disrobed with an urgency characteristic of a desperation only the most vicious of partings can bring, and he allows it—helps even, raising his back when fingers trace his spine and curling his knees closer when a gust of air closes in on his feet.

He’s trembling by the time he’s laid bare on his sheets, a strange mix of nostalgia and anticipation—a desire for all the things he’s put to death with his own bare hands. It’s not fear though. Fear would mean Seokmin’s dagger missed its mark—and it didn’t.

Seokmin doesn’t regret stabbing Mingyu. He regrets letting him escape alive.

He suddenly gasps, as he feels his breath choked out of him, and it takes him a few seconds too long to realise he is being kissed to within an inch of his life—quite literally and with intent.

He lets his hands hook onto what looks like thin air and leverages upwards, pushing back until he’s sitting up. His lungs swell like a balloon in his chest, each moment that he spends unwilling to part from the kiss lengthening the strain on it until it pops and he’s heaving mouthfuls of air.

But it’s not enough because he leans back for more—and gets what he wants without a fight. Maybe they’re both willing to die for this kiss…maybe death only aggravates the agonies that one hopes to leave behind with the living.

Before he is overpowered again, he grinds his hips upwards hoping to meet with some resistance. When he does, he grinds up again and again, until he can almost imagine Mingyu resting against Seokmin’s collarbone, nosing his way up Seokmin’s throat as Seokmin took his time driving MIngyu to the edge.

It’s a damn shame Seokmin can’t see his face. Mingyu always did blush so prettily when he was being taken apart.

His momentary distraction unarms him and Seokmin finds himself on his back again, looking up into nothingness and waiting for the inevitable.

Maybe he will wake up tomorrow and realise this was all a dream, wished up by memories Seokmin had learnt to bury every night that his father called for his company. Maybe he’ll wake up with no memory of the darkness touching him at all—Mingyu had always been powerful and who knew what he was become capable of, in the years that he had spent biding his time and slinking into corners of the kingdom that always evaded Seokmin’s reach.

But for now, all Seokmin cares to deal with is the night, and its shadow—perched as it was on his hip.

Seokmin sighs, letting his eyes fall shut, and an all-too-familiar warmth finally engulfs him.

[FILL] missed call

[arundels]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Joshua
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: unhealthy relationship dynamics, smoking
Permission to remix: Yes

***

got a little long (even though it's only 2k+ words) so posted to ao3 here

[FILL] darkness again

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: jeonghan/seungcheol
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: vaguely idolverse, breaking up, is it breaking up if you were never really together?
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

July 31. Twenty minutes to midnight. Jeonghan stands on the roof of a building and waits.

July 31. Fifteen minutes to midnight. Seungcheol appears like a ghost, haunting him. Drifting towards him, pulling him close. Unlike a ghost, his hands are searingly hot around Jeonghan’s waist. An anchor to this world. Maybe Jeonghan is the ghost.

Despite the summer heat, Jeonghan shivers. Seungcheol reels him in and kisses him full, kisses him breathless. Jeonghan indulges for five minutes. Ten minutes. Like he’s done so many times before, too many times before.

July 31. Five minutes until midnight. Jeonghan almost can’t muster up the strength. He thinks about the headlines (SEVENTEEN S.Coups and Jeonghan photographed kissing on a roof, SEVENTEEN S.Coups and Jeonghan embroiled in dating scandal, SEVENTEEN Jeonghan kicked out of group) and pushes Seungcheol away from him with a hand on his chest. Manages to say, “We can’t keep doing this.”

Seungcheol, never one to listen to reason, tries to crowd closer. “Why not?” he asks. There’s a grin on his face. Jeonghan tries not to look at his smile. If he does, he might lose track of the impulse control hanging by a thread.

“Coups-ah,” Jeonghan says, looking at the lifeless street down below instead of at Seungcheol. “You know why.”

Seungcheol sighs, full and deep bodied. Jeonghan feels it reverberate through his bones. He untwines from Jeonghan, slow, achingly regretful. It feels like pulling away from sunlight, retreating into the darkness. Withering. Seungcheol stands there and waits. Looks at Jeonghan like he’s expecting him to bare his soul. Like he’d bare his own in return.

Jeonghan doesn’t know what to do with that kind of thoughtless devotion. Doesn’t know how to handle another heart next to his, another pair of hands in his.
Seungcheol sits on the ground and looks at Jeonghan, like he’s searching for something. Something he won’t find, probably. Jeonghan sinks down next to him and listens to his own pounding heart.

“Do you ever think, if we weren’t idols—” Seungcheol starts. Jeonghan makes a soft noise and stops him in his tracks.

“I don’t like hypotheticals,” Jeonghan says, stopping him. He looks at Seungcheol, now, finally, dares him to talk with his eyes.

“I do,” Seungcheol says, looking right back. Fiery, like he can be sometimes. “Do you think in a parallel universe we could be together?”

“I don’t believe in parallel universes,” Jeonghan tells him. He stretches his hands out behind him. They dig into the concrete.

“Stop lying,” Seungcheol says. Gentle, voice reigned back in, despite it all. Despite Jeonghan.

Jeonghan sits in silence. He looks up at the sky. It’s clear, but he can only make out one star. Maybe that star is Seungcheol, in a parallel universe. Maybe Jeonghan would be pulled, irresistibly, into his orbit. Maybe that other Jeonghan wouldn’t try so hard to break out.

“I would like that universe,” Jeonghan says, finally. His hands are left with the indent of the concrete and his heart is left with the indent of Seungcheol. He stands and walks away from Seungcheol, firmly not looking back. He opens the door and steps inside. The cold blast of the air conditioning makes him shiver. He tries not to expect Seungcheol to run after him.

Seungcheol has given him far too many chances. Jeonghan has left him, hand outstretched, heart outstretched, each time.

The door falls shut behind Jeonghan and he’s left in the eerie cold darkness. August 1. It’s five minutes past midnight. Jeonghan is left with a broken heart.

[FILL] SIP IT SLOWLY AND PAY ATTENTION

[wonwoo420]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/DK
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Idolverse, Friends to lovers, not actually unrequited love, wonwoo's intricate rituals to touch men, dk is morosexual
Permission to remix: Yes

***
sorrey i got a lil carried away ao3

FILL: whatever it needs me to be

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Woozi-centric
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: mitski geyser dot mp3; one-sided interview-style; author agonizes with subject
Permission to remix: please ask

after Hanif Abdurraqib...ish. Title from Mitski on "Geyser": "I will be whatever it needs me to be. I will do whatever it needs me to do in order for me to continue to be able to make music."

***

What kind of questions do you ask yourself before sitting down to write a song? What questions do you think you answered with this one?

Are there particular beats, moments that you wish you could foster and harness?

What is in the in-between for you? How do you pull a song from stasis and into a product worth shaping?

And is that where a story begins?

For me, some stories come together non-linear, sure. But at the end, it's about the cohesion for everyone else, but for me, it is about how it comes together. The journey and process rather than the end product.

I suppose asking is a chicken or the egg type question.

Are you still working on trying to capture what you feel in this moment?

And is that source still running out, or do you think that you've found a new source to pull from?

How does it compare, writing with your primary collaborator versus sourced producers?

Different approach and process can widen horizons, sure.

Do those shift your ideas on what you would consider to be a SEVENTEEN song? Or, more ambitiously, a WOOZI song?

For others can feel daunting, but for yourself can be worse. Like a blogger with an iPhone waiting for you to fuck up.

Stifling scrutiny, yeah.

Is there a song out that you wish that you'd written?

Can we expect to see more of that then—that wistfulness? The wanting to reach out without actually touching?

So we should not be on the lookout for, say, New Jack Swing anytime soon? [laughs]

But you're right. Art is that thing, you know? Always there, always taking the shape of the thing you need, but it's not so readily obvious each time. Like you said: If you’re concentrating too hard on making it, though, you won’t be able to tell if it’s going like you first imagined it.

But are you losing the love if you're still putting in work?

All of it is a labor of love, yeah. There is no such thing as labor without value, to me, and everything means something to someone. The littlest thing can touch the most hearts, somehow.

Right, right. And it's about finding a balance.

Would you call that your fallback then? When all else fails, you'll always at least have this?

I suppose it does help you clear your head.

I crochet when I can't, I cook when I'm really in it, but at the end, I come back to the blinking screen because it has to be done. I have to do it because if I don't say it, who will?

Creatives are their own worst enemies.

And that's just it, is it not? It's a cycle and it feels endless. But it's temporary. And we power through and build something bigger, and on the other side, we think. Huh. Why didn't I just do that in the first place?

But it will come back, even if you think it won't.

See, that is the best thing about losing your shape. You always have the ability to come back to form.

[FILL] lopsided roses

[tangerinekth]

Ship/Member: wonwoo/mingyu
Major Tags: none
Additional Tags: brief alcohol use, dating, ambiguous ending
Permission to remix: please ask

***

wonwoo doesn't like flowers. he thinks they're pretty, sure, but he doesn't like owning them. there's not enough table or counter space for a vase in his apartment and his place only receives the sun's light when it's setting. he's also not home a lot. his work sends him on trips to different branches at least three times a month, and he likes it that way.

so when wonwoo sees the massive bouquet of roses in mingyu's hands when he opens the door, his first thought is, "oh no, i'm going to kill them."

it's their third date, and that should mean something. because wonwoo hasn't had a third date in ages. he remembers seungkwan telling him that vernon asked him to be his boyfriend on their third date. it was a big deal apparently, out of character for vernon, but perfect for seungkwan, with flowers, chocolates, and a teddy bear. the works. seungkwan loved it.

wonwoo doesn't know if mingyu thought he would love it when the younger pushes the flowers into wonwoo's arms with a bashful smile. he's flustered, probably embarrassed by the sheer size of the bouquet he must've had to carry through the lobby. "i got these for you," mingyu says, rushed. "i thought you would like them."

he's sincere, so wonwoo thanks him and presses a kiss to his cheek. he holds back the urge to tell mingyu he shouldn't have in fear his honesty will slip through. because these flowers are going to wilt and die in the large cup he puts them in, and wonwoo is going to have to throw them out when he gets back from his trip to ulsan next week.

"are you ready to go?" mingyu asks. he offers his hand and wonwoo's eyes scan him up and down. he recognizes mingyu's leather jacket as a graduation gift from his friend, seungcheol, and his jeans are held up by a dark designer belt. wonwoo tries not to think about how much they cost, ignore the glint of the watch on his wrist. because there's a side to mingyu he has known for years now yet still tries to pretend does not exist.

"i'm ready," wonwoo says. mingyu's hand is warm in his and he can't help but smile when mingyu grins at him.

they walk a few blocks to an italian restaurant they've eaten at before, before the dating and talking stage, a time when mingyu's friends still thought the guy mingyu hangs out with a lot was named wonseok instead of wonwoo.

"do you want a drink?" mingyu asks, flipping through the menu.

"yeah, sure," wonwoo answers, because he knows despite the fact that mingyu always gets teased for it, the younger likes to show off sometimes. so he watches as mingyu smiles, calls the waiter over, and names a wine wonwoo won't attempt to repeat the name of.

"it's a red wine. that's okay, right?" mingyu says, suddenly looking worried. "oh, wait the white would've been better if you wanted seafood." he's about to call the waiter again when wonwoo places his hand over his to stop him.

"red wine is good, mingyu-ah," wonwoo assures him. "i'm not a big seafood person."

"oh, right, i knew that! sorry, hyung," mingyu tells him, an apologetic smile on his lips. wonwoo knows he feels bad, so he tries not to think about how long it will be before mingyu forgets again.

when they order, wonwoo can already hear the words "filet mignon, medium rare, please" in mingyu's voice before they even escape his lips. he knows at exactly which syllables his lisp will peek through.

"the arrabbiata pasta, please," wonwoo orders for himself. they hand their menus back, and mingyu is quick to engage in conversation again.

he asks about wonwoo's most recent trip to kyoto, having taken place between this date and their last. wonwoo tells him that it was good, he met some clients and there weren't any problems. it's vague, so mingyu, understandably, prods more. he asks about the food wonwoo ate and the sights he saw during the week he was gone.

"did you see any temples?" mingyu asks.

"yes," wonwoo answers. he takes a sip of the wine they ordered before and tries not to let it show on his face that it tastes exactly as he expected it would. he feels like a child in moments like these, schooling his face as he takes another taste. "the temples are really pretty this time of the year."

"we should go see them together sometime," mingyu suggests, before getting shy and backtracking. "you can bring your friends of course, and i can bring mine," he says, cheeks tinted red. "jeonghan hyung actually has a lot of friends in kyoto, we can probably stay at one of their places."

it's a nice offer, familiar even, because wonwoo knows mingyu would never let him pay for a trip that they're going together on. it has been like that since they met, in college when mingyu was lankier and wonwoo's hair was longer.

mingyu has always been the generous, giving kind. it makes wonwoo wonder what he did to have him in his life. if he deserves to keep him there years later.

"seungkwan and jun would probably love that," wonwoo says, smiling. "it will be difficult tearing jihoon out of the studio though."

"oh, he's a dancer, right?" mingyu asks. wonwoo purses his lips before answering. mingyu has only met jihoon a handful of times. it's natural for him to forget these things.

"no, he's the one that's a music producer," wonwoo tells him. "jun is a dancer, though."

"damn, that's my bad," mingyu says, hiding his face behind his hands. the sight is endearing, so wonwoo forgets the conversation and laughs.

"it's okay, i can't remember all of you friend's jobs," wonwoo says, empathetically.

(it's a lie. seungcheol is an architect. jeonghan and seokmin are preschool teachers. and joshua is between jobs right now. he thinks he might want to pursue music rather than business. his first gig as a musician is next week at a place in yeouido. he'll figure it out after that.)

"you're just saying that to make me feel better," mingyu says.

"i would never," wonwoo sarcastically responds. mingyu retaliates by nudging his foot with his. they end up playing a clumsy round of footsie before mingyu slams his knee under the table and causes the cutlery to clatter but somehow not fall.

"look what you did, hyung. i'm hurt because of you," mingyu pretends to whine, rubbing his aching knee. wonwoo is still laughing at the younger's pained expression when the waiter arrives with their food.

the rest of the meal is more of the same. questions, answers, and anecdotes traded back and forth. at some point, wonwoo finds himself having such a good time that he stops correcting mingyu when he gets things wrong.

so what if he thinks junhui's name is actually junhyeok, and forgets that wonwoo's father is a post office worker and not a businessman? they're details that can be fixed at a later time. wonwoo doesn't have to deal with them right now. not when wine is still swirling in his glass, and mingyu is looking at him like he is his entire world.

the walk home is cold and they both run half the way back to wonwoo's place. wonwoo invites mingyu in, and the younger is all too happy to accept.

"this picture is so cute. are they your friend's?" mingyu asks, when he sees the photo of kittens stuck to wonwoo's fridge.

"hm? no, our cat back home just gave birth. the babies were so cute i decided to print out a picture," wonwoo says, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard.

"oh, really? i always thought you were more of a dog person," mingyu replies. wonwoo bites his tongue and nods, silently filling the cups with water. he hands mingyu his and sits in the seat beside him in the kitchen. the roses from before are sitting lopsided in a plastic cup in front of them, uglier than when mingyu brought them in.

"i had fun tonight," wonwoo says.

"really? i'm glad," mingyu beams, so bright wonwoo has to look away. "i had a good time too." he takes wonwoo's hand and squeezes it comfortingly. "i'm really happy we decided to try this."

wonwoo doesn't know what to say at first, confused by what mingyu means. he's not sure if "this" means going on dates once every two weeks or if he's just talking about them in general, two people with seemingly nothing in common trying to map out the path to a relationship.

"i'm tired," wonwoo yawns, stretching his arms above his head. mingyu agrees, yawning as well, and asks wonwoo if he can stay over. there's no impure intention. mingyu even offers to sleep on the couch.

"i just, kinda want to make breakfast for you tomorrow," mingyu says shyly. it's cute, endearing. wonwoo figures breakfast is when mingyu plans on asking him to be his boyfriend. wonwoo thinks he'll say yes.

"alright," wonwoo agrees. "but you can sleep in my bed with me. we can cuddle." mingyu preens immediately and wonwoo's heart warms at the way mingyu's eyes crinkle when he smiles.

they wash up in a comfortable silence and wonwoo lends mingyu his clothes. when they settle into bed, it's with mingyu's arms wrapped around wonwoo's waist, and wonwoo's head against his chest.

"relax," wonwoo says with a chuckle when he feels mingyu's heart beating rapidly against chest.

"i'm sorry!" mingyu tells him, the pout in his voice evident. "i'm nervous, okay? you know i get shy."

"you're fine, don't worry about it," wonwoo tells him. he leans up to press a kiss against mingyu's jaw and feels the other relax under him.

"distract me with a question, i can't fall asleep because of you," mingyu whines.

"alright," wonwoo laughs, feeling himself already drifting to sleep, safe in mingyu's embrace. "mm, what's your favorite color?"

"red. but like the berry kind of red, like a strawberry," mingyu answers.

"favorite song right now?"

"oh, i need to think about this one," mingyu tells him. wonwoo nods, eyes fluttering closed as he awaits a response. "probably breathe by lee hi."

"that's a good one," wonwoo murmurs. "okay, favorite season?"

"summer," mingyu replies, now sounding tired again. "one more before you fall asleep."

"hm," wonwoo hums. "what's my favorite season?"

"easy, spring," mingyu says.

"good job, now good night, mingyu," wonwoo says, leaving another kiss on his golden skin.

"good night, hyung," the younger responds, pressing his lips against the crown of wonwoo's head.

mingyu somehow ends up falling asleep faster than wonwoo does, and wonwoo suppresses a laugh when he begins to hear mingyu's light snoring. he's too peaceful like this, so wonwoo chooses not to interrupt his sleep by doing something silly. instead, he stays curled against mingyu's side and pulls the blanket higher so it reaches their chins.

"sweet dreams, mingyu," he says, before finally falling asleep.


(the correct answer was autumn.)

Re: [FILL] 再一次

[deadwine]

oh this 8jun killed me

[REMIX] if i can't have you, no one should

[deadwine]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Mingyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Yoon Jeonghan, flatmates
Permission to remix: Yes

wc: 600+

A/N: vee.. *shakes fist*

***

Mingyu tastes like summer and the honeycomb latte he had toyed with hours earlier when Wonwoo finally kisses him in the back of the car.

It’s far too public and dangerous than Wonwoo dares to go usually, but the person driving is a friend of a friend of a friend—which is to say someone who Wonwoo has gamed with maybe twice in his life—and well, Wonwoo wants to cross the line today.

When you’re going back on your own words, turning a guaranteed no into an insistent, undeniable yes—you might as well go fucking big.


*


They stand hip to hip on the elevator up to their apartment and maybe it’s silly that they don’t take the chance to kiss now that they’re all alone, but Wonwoo knows that with Mingyu half the battle is won in getting him tense in all the right ways.

Living together has left little to the imagination and they almost know each other too well as flatmates—but not like this.

There’s a strange thrill to merely letting their knuckles brush against each other instead of reaching out; something entirely unfamiliar about their reflections on the elevator door that tells him perhaps they don’t know each other at all.


*

Predictably, Mingyu pushes him against the door the second it shuts behind them and Wonwoo welcomes it: the push, the pressure, the moment before their lips touch when they’re breathing each other in.

Mingyu kisses him unabashedly, no awkward attempts at hiding how much he wants Wonwoo and Wonwoo doesn’t care if it’s fucked up—all he can think about is the intensity of that very first time Jeonghan kissed him.

How much of Mingyu is in Jeonghan’s kisses and how much of Jeonghan in Mingyu’s he’ll probably never be able to tell but to know their imprints on each other is enough.

It surprises him to realise how much he wants to be the only one to ever find out.


*

With Mingyu spread out underneath him on his bed, Wonwoo takes a moment to trail his nose down from Mingyu’s neck to his own pillow and inhale, slow and deep.

Mingyu turns his head and bites Wonwoo’s earlobe—harder enough that Wonwoo gasps.

“You’re fucking me, not him.” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo captures his lips before he’s done speaking and doesn’t relent until they’re both breathless and spit-slick messy.

“And you’re fucking me…not him.” Wonwoo grinds down on Mingyu, as he replies, bare skin against bare skin at last.

Wonwoo remembers only too well what the last person that laid on his sheets looked like—and clearly, Mingyu does too—but the thought stays at the back of his mind.

Crawling down the length of Mingyu’s body, leaving little teasing bites as he goes, he has more pressing things to tend to: having something he unwittingly craved laid out for him to see and touch, when all this while the only thing he could do was listen in.

“Hyung,” Rings out loud and pleading when Wonwoo puts his mouth on Mingyu, fingers coming to tangle in Wonwoo’s short black strands only too naturally.

Neither of them makes the mistake of taking any wrong names that night.


*


Was it intentional, what they both did before they could get to this point? Or were they just casualties of someone else’s game?

If someone asked him later, he would claim he doesn’t remember.

But in the morning when he wakes to Mingyu straddling his hips, sunlight cast over his ribs as they rippled under Wonwoo’s touch, there is the distinct smell of a successful exorcism in the air.

Until the ghost rings the doorbell, of course.