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

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: jeonghan/seungcheol or mingyu/wonwoo or any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

you ask me to cook for you. i promise you a feast. i give you breadcrumbs in its place. you eat them all without complaint.

can't find the original source but saw this in @/evilscrapbook

it’s really you on my mind

[hoshism]

Ship/Member: Any (but if seokmin/soonyoung speaks to you…)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: mcd

Prompt:

My guy pretty like a girl
And he got fight stories to tell
I see both sides like Chanel

— Chanel, Frank Ocean

[chickenfrog]

Ship/Member: any configuration of minghao/seokmin/any or minghao/mingyu/any would be cool, whether it's break up fic or or love triangle fic or potential poly fic or whatever!
Major Tags: n/a
Additional Tags: n/a
Do Not Wants: none

Prompt:

If you found some other dude
What do I do?
If he loves you truly
How could I not love him too?
If he improves you
More than I used to, hey
I don't want nothing but you
Getting what you need
Even if it ain't from me

'Cause I love you
And what love is
Never selfish
And on purpose

— kamauu, "mango"

[chickenfrog]

Ship/Member: mingyu + minghao or mingyu/minghao
Major Tags: n/a
Additional Tags: idolverse; the gut-sinking feeling of knowing/worrying you're drifting apart
Do Not Wants: none

Prompt:

Stay, stay the same
'Cause everything else will change
And I'll always be to blame
So please just stay the same

Nobody knows you
The way you know you
But I think I do
Well, I thought I knew
Yeah, I thought I knew

— passion pit, "seaweed song"

All nature in confusion

[furniished]

Ship/Member: Minghao/Mingyu
Major Tags: Idolverse, Implied canon divergence
Additional Tags: N/A
Permission to remix: Yes

A/N: Uhh I'm really sorry about this one.
***

“Surprise!” Mingyu stage-whispered when Minghao pulled open the sliding door of the black minivan to reveal him hunched over in the second row, dark sunglasses on even though the sun had already set.

It wasn’t a surprise, really, because earlier that week Mingyu had double- and triple-checked with Minghao about when his flight was landing, whether he had any schedules right after, if he knew which manager was picking him up. The second tell was that he’d clammed up when Minghao had sent a message before taking off from Beijing asking Mingyu if he was free for dinner that night, launching into an unnecessarily detailed description of his lunch menu instead. The two of them were similar, in that way – both lacking the penchant for subtle, minute deflection that made for the best liars. Minghao had rolled his eyes and texted the manager not to bother bringing him any food.

“Hi.” Minghao threw his bag into the back row and sat in the second, hesitating only for a moment before reaching across the space between their seats to rest his hand on Mingyu’s arm. Mingyu flexed at the touch, pleased, the contours of his forearm grounding Minghao after his long day of travel and the past few months of filming still swirling in his mind. Fondness and familiarity had a way of forming a positive feedback loop, an ouroboros that fed on its own confirmation bias in ever-tightening loops. Soulmates, they had giggled, once, hiding under the covers, sharing their hopes, egging on each other’s wishes, marveling at how the threads of their existence had been taken and woven together now so tightly that they could never be teased apart. You are a person who is just like me.

The thing about mirrors is that they reflect your own myopia. It may have been more accurate to say that there was a person they each wanted to be just like, that it was not one or the other but a third thing, a clear outline of an existence that they could see shining before them, and that they were both so determined in their desire that they mistook evolution for genesis, form for function, as the preachers and the old scientists had.

++

Minghao is the last person Mingyu talks to about contract renewals. He doesn’t know whether it’s because Mingyu thinks he’ll be the most difficult to convince, or because he assumes they’re on the same page. Either way, he resents it.

Speculation had always been a love language of sorts, for the two of them. In hypotheticals, it was easier to continue to orient yourselves in parallel without considering the mathematical implications of sharing a slope.

“It’s not that complicated,” Mingyu says, when they finally do sit down together. “Everyone should just say what they want, first – that way we all start on the same page. And then we work from there.”

“What if we don’t want the same things?”

Mingyu doesn’t falter. “Well, of course the members will have different terms. I mean, you should have seen Vernon’s spreadsheet about stock options – I don’t even know where he learned all that stuff. But that’s why it’s good to have it all on the table, so we can figure out the best compromise and how to leverage it with the company.”

Mingyu is no fool. Minghao knows this, truly knows this, but a part of him still can’t help but flicker with annoyed disbelief. Once upon a time, he would have been starry with admiration. He’s not sure where to direct the vague sense of disgust he feels now, deep in the pit of his stomach, churning in that hollowed out place for secrets that used to only be filled with ambition. Natural selection had done its work on both of them, after all.

“Mingyu,” Minghao says slowly. “What if there is no compromise?”

How do two people know that they’re looking at the same color, just because they both give it the same name?

++

Mingyu rides with him one more time to Incheon Airport. The cab driver showed no sign of recognition when they hailed the car down outside of the company, didn’t bother stepping out to help two perfectly able-bodied young men, one with a military-grade buzzcut, with their luggage. There’s nothing much to say in the last hour, really, and the way that the pop radio saws like a dull knife through the silence makes Minghao wish that Mingyu hadn’t offered to come at all. Still, he understands. It had always been important to both of them to see things through to the end.

++

“It’s not your fault,” Minghao had said, after the ink had dried and the old papers had been shredded and they found themselves alone in the conference room. The touch of his hand echoed on Mingyu’s arm. “You knew me as well as I knew myself back then. And I would have resented you for going any further.” He exhaled wrly. “Just look at me and Junhui.”

“We all changed, Myungho. You’re hardly the only one.”

Minghao shook his head. “Kim Mingyu, the best parts of you have stayed the same. You should be grateful.” He winced at his own choice of words. “I mean, it’s a good thing. I wish…” He stopped himself, deflated, the words momentarily stunned by the unfamiliar rush of free fall, wings still damp with amniotic fluid.

Mingyu looked at him for a long moment, then got up, his chair rolling soundlessly away from the table.

(*posts two heavy prompts in a row* ok now let's do a silly one)

[chickenfrog]

Ship/Member: textbook definition of dogboi kim mingyu who is maybe just a bit too overeager/any OR number one self-proclaimed romantic xu minghao who ok maybe is laying it on a bit too thick/any!
Major Tags: n/a
Additional Tags: n/a
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Calling too much, you're breaking my phone
Mad when you do and sad when you don't
Chivalry, ooh, you taking my coat
Too cute, no, this ain't me now
Candlelight, out on a starry night
You brush my hair to the side
And you tell me I'm pretty

Yuck, now you got me blushin'
Cheeks so red when the blood starts rushing
Yuck, that boy's so mushy
Sending me flowers, I'm just tryna get lucky
Yuck, lookin' at me all sucky
Yuck, quit acting like a puppy
Fuck, going all lovey-dovey on me

—charli xcx, "yuck"

[FILL] lovey dovey on me

[(Anonymous)]

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

*******

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

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

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

What the fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So. 48 hours, huh?”

[svteen]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Only a fool lives in water and remains an enemy of the crocodile.

—Alka Joshi, The Henna Artist

who's the fool (or not a fool)? who's the metaphorical crocodile? i want to know what you think

[svteen]

Ship/Member: Any, but what if it was 95z or 96z
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: reminiscing on the past (?)
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I would have taken you to the Naz Café
if it had not shut down.
I would have taken you to the Naz Café
for the best view and the worst food in town.

—Imtiaz Dharker, Hiraeth, Old Bombay

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: wonwoo/junhui.
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: canonverse??
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

there's a theory that says you don't exist until someone calls & you respond
- sam sax, hydrophobia.

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: wonwoo/junhui or any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

“I love you, and I’m conscious of you all the time.”
— Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Katherine Mansfield.

[FILL]

[st8rgazer]

Ship/Member: Junhui/Wonwoo
Major Tags: Main Character Death (they're already dead)
Additional Tags: Tomorrow (k-drama) AU, afterlife, edge of consciousness, brief mentions of reincarnation/life after death, the in-between
Permission to remix: pls ask!!

For some context: This is inspired by the 2022 k-drama ‘Tomorrow’ and takes place in that universe. Wonwoo is a grim reaper. Jumadeung is their version of the in-between (neither heaven nor hell) where all sorts of grim reapers work. i did take some creative liberties with the little details of the world though!

to the prompter: thank u so much for this prompt, i loved this quote a lot
***
Even in death, Junhui is beautiful.

Wonwoo doesn’t remember now, but later, when Junhui pushes and prods him enough for it to bother him, he will sit in the armchair and look at his past life, and this will be his first thought.

/

Junhui’s arrival in Jumadeung wreaks havoc. He is adamant on not passing into the afterlife, insists on giving up his chance of reincarnation because he has unfinished business. The director invites Wonwoo to her garden, a week after Junhui arrives.

She asks, “What shall we do with that boy, Wonwoo-yah?”

The director is nursing a warm cup of tea in her arms. When Wonwoo takes a step closer, she places it down on her saucer.

Wonwoo folds his arms in front of him and bows his head politely, “I’m not sure why you would ask me this, ma’am.”

The director smiles at him placatingly as if he were a child.

“Wonwoo-yah,” she beckons for him to take a seat across from her. He steps closer, and perches on the chair across her. She looks younger, nestled amongst the flowers in her garden.

“Was it easy to become a grim reaper?”

Wonwoo turns over her question in his mind. The director is patient as she waits for his response. It’s been years, almost forty, since he died. Being a grim reaper is not easy, it is a sacrifice. It’s giving up any chance at living or dying ever again.

Wonwoo has no idea why he’d chosen to become a grim reaper.

“It was not easy to become a grim reaper, ma’am,” Wonwoo responds finally, “I’m still new, and I’m still getting used to it.”

The director picks up her cup of tea, swirls the liquid in the cup before she takes a sip, “What was so hard about it?”

Wonwoo doesn't have to think hard about this one, “The exam was hard, ma’am.”

The director laughs, big and hearty as if Wonwoo has cracked the funniest joke in the world. Jumadeung seems to shake with the force of her laugh. It takes her a moment to settle down, and she takes another sip of her tea.

“Why do you think souls choose to become grim reapers?”

Wonwoo knows this — it came out on the exam.

“Because they would rather forget.”

/

Junhui finds him wherever Wonwoo goes (hides). It is an eerie ability that Junhui should not have, especially after only being dead for two weeks. Wonwoo is on his way to the hospital to collect a soul when Junhui materialises beside him, seemingly out of nowhere. Wonwoo doesn’t regard him, but Junhui follows along.

He walks one step behind Wonwoo, a little to his left so Wonwoo can always see him in his periphery. He pushes and prods at Wonwoo’s buttons like nobody’s business, mischievous smile always in place.

(He has done nothing to get in the way of Wonwoo’s work, he is only curious and has apparently taken a liking to Wonwoo.)


Perhaps Wonwoo should have seen his talk with the director of Jumadeung as a sign.

Junhui knows Wonwoo.

Not in the way lost souls and grim reapers know Wonwoo has one of the youngest grim reapers in Jumadaung, as the fastest soul to have sat and passed the exam.

Junhui had known Wonwoo when they were alive.

/

They are on the rooftop of Seoul General Hospital, waiting for a soul to pass. Junhui is leaning back into the wall fast asleep. Wonwoo checks his watch, his soul is about to die in a few minutes.

Without looking, Wonwoo feels Junhui shift beside him. They are both dead souls, but Wonwoo thinks he feels the warm press of Junhui’s shoulder against his. It’s quiet at first, so much so that Wonwoo doesn’t hear it.

And then, Junhui shifts closer, moans out a torturous, “Wonwoo-hyung–”

Wonwoo’s head snaps towards Junhui, but Junhui is already awake. Guilty eyes meet Wonwoo’s and before he can say anything, his watch signals — his soul has died.

When Wonwoo comes back, Junhui is gone.

It wasn’t noticeable at first, how much of Wonwoo’s time recently was spent keeping an eye open for Junhui’s presence. But now, when he isn’t on his left anymore, it’s harrowingly empty.

The first time it hits Wonwoo, he is at the site of a car accident and he turns to see the expression on Junhui’s face. Junhui’s eyes have always been open and

Junhui stops seeking Wonwoo out. He doesn’t notice it at first, but when Wonwoo visits an accident site to pick up a soul, he looks over his shoulders to see the expression on Junhui’s face and doesn’t find Junhui there.

When he returns to Jumadeung, Junhui is nowhere to be found either. Wonwoo tries not to let it bother him, but after his shifts end and the nights stretch into the mornings’ shadows, he thinks back to the rooftop. Junhui’s gentle presence as they waited, his torturous voice as he called out Wonwoo’s own name.

/

Wonwoo is not the type of person to rush into a decision — he knows this. A soul does not choose to become a grim reaper on a whim, especially not a soul like Wonwoo. Wonwoo has heard there are two reasons a soul chooses to become a reaper.

The first, cuter, reason is so that new reapers can welcome new souls — people who want to walk the same path as them, and breathe new life into them.

The second, more honest reason is because many souls who have chosen to become reapers have nothing to exist for. As a reaper, you can choose to erase the memories you have of your past life, and Wonwoo had. Being a reaper and choosing to exist in between the planes of existence is choosing to give up your chance at reincarnation.

Wonwoo finds himself seeking out the director of Jumadeung, but she finds him first.

They are in her garden again, and it feels like they’ve come full circle in the past month.

Wonwoo folds his arms in front of him, bowing politely before he slips into the chair in front of her. She beams at him, a glint in her eyes as if she knows a secret.

“Do you know where Junhui is?” Wonwoo asks cautiously.

Wonwoo is about to watch his past life, so he can understand why. Why Junhui has slipped out of his grasp, before he even had a hold on him. Why does Junhui stand a little to his left, always by his side? Why is Junhui a warm presence in his periphery?

/

Fates are a precarious thing.

Wonwoo feels him before he sees him.

“I heard you took a look at your life,” Junhui says from behind him.

They are in the director’s garden, there is a light breeze blowing through the flowers, carrying their scent over to him. There are no seasons in Jumadeung but it feels like summer, warm and tender, in full bloom.

When Wonwoo turns around, he thinks oh, how pretty. He smiles a little. Junhui’s eyes are cautious, but there’s a glint in his eyes that looks a lot like hope and a nervous smile playing at his lips.

“Our life, you mean?”

\

[firmamentss]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: grief
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

What I'd loved in him most was my own aliveness, his ability to give me back to myself

- Sue Monk Kidd, The Mermaid Chair

[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.

i promise i was not in love

[firmamentss]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: all bad things must come to an end but holy sht they way u make me feel kind of vibes, wanting things that are bad for you, fwb??
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

“Such things as smiles can be weapons as well.”

- Alice Hoffman, The Dovekeepers

in the car, in the backseat, I'm your baby

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Jeongcheol/ any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

-I would like to think that you would stick around.
You know that I'd just die to make you proud.
The taste, the touch, the way we love
It all comes down to make the sound of our love song-

the careless black hole

[klav]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: amnesia / memory alteration / Eternal Sunshine au? growing out of a relationship or situation? the liminal space of a difficult conversation?
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Not for the first time, your own mind terrified you: the careless black-hole greediness of it, that you could leave things there thinking they were safe, and then turn around and find that they'd been eaten away, gnawed on without mercy or honor so that not even the bones were left, destroyed nonchalantly by something mightier in you, something mightier than you, some big-time fucking asshole, whose name was, what, even? Forgetting. You could forget an entire world, the person you'd been there. It scared the shit out of you.
―America is Not the Heart, Elaine Castillo

&

I keep forgetting about yesterday
I don't know what today is either
I keep forgetting the me of yesterday
I'm only twenty-six, yeah, yeah
Why can't I remember?
―Forg_tful by RM trans. by Genius

[FILL] between horror and acceptance

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: soonhoon
Major Tags: grief, implied character death
Additional Tags: amnesia, resurrection (or is it), open ended/ambiguous, liminal space of a difficult conversation, dealing with grief, letting go/moving on, idolverse, fantastical/supernatural elements,
Permission to remix: Yes
a/n: op i feel like this is very much not what you were aiming for but i hope you can still enjoy! wc: 1.3k. i apologize for any errors, this is very lightly edited.
***

The next time Jihoon sees Soonyoung, it’s five months after his dead body was found, mangled and roughly deposited under a nondescript bridge.

The world screeches to a halt around Jihoon. Water roars in his ears. Something screams in the back of his mind. He feels like the one drowning.

Soonyoung leans casually against the jamb of the door to Jihoon’s apartment building, teeth wearing down another one of his nails. Jihoon unsticks his limbs and forces himself to walk.

There are three steps leading up to the door. They feel like three miles. His feet come to a stop in front of Soonyoung. Jihoon wills himself to look at Soonyoung’s face. It’s perfect, beautiful, the same familiar shape. Absolutely no sign of damage or death. Nausea racks his stomach.

He meets Soonyoung’s eyes, brown and bright, but utterly devoid of recognition. Dread drowns his lungs.

“Annyeong,” Soonyoung greets, an upward lilt at the end of the greeting, as if he’s compelled to speak in banmal, but he’s not sure why. “Do you live here?”

Jihoon gulps in air. He feels fuzzy, detached. A hand hovers near his arm. Jihoon wishes, vehemently and suddenly, that Soonyoung weren’t here.

“Soonyoung-ah,” he croaks out at last, pushing past the quiver in his lips, “H-how?”

Soonyoung tilts his head, a smile half-hung on his face. HIs eyes are quizzical. “Do I know you?” Jihoon’s stomach sinks. His breath comes out shaky. Soonyoung’s concern bleeds from his eyes.

“Maybe you should go in,” Soonyoung suggests quietly. He reaches for Jihoon, who slaps his hands away. Soonyoung shrinks. “I was just asking for your keys.”

Pulling in another breath, Jihoon nods. He doesn't know if he should apologize. A part of his brain says that he’s hurt Soonyoung. Another part argues that this is a stranger. He pulls out his keys and aims the one for the front door at the keyhole. His hand shakes, and the metal scrapes noisily. Soonyoung takes the key gently from him.

“Let me,” he says softly. “You don’t look well.” Wildly, Jihoon wants to laugh. No, of course he’s not well. He saw the love of his life dead on the news months ago. And now he’s back in front of Jihoon, in perfect health and with absolutely no recollection, it seems, of what happened. But before he can gather the strength to snort, or do something normal, Soonyoung’s pushing the door open.

Soonyoung leads him to the elevator like he’s the one on the verge of death. Jihoon tugs his elbow away once they reach the elevator doors. Pretends he doesn’t notice Soonyoung’s wince. He jabs his finger into the up button like it’s some sort of silent, tactile defense to whatever mean things Soonyoung must be thinking about him.

They wait in silence. Jihoon wonders if Soonyoung has any intention of coming up with, and then adamantly refuses to consider which option he himself would prefer.

The door opens. Jihoon steps in. Soonyoung follows. Oh. Well. Jihoon positions himself in a corner and wraps arms around himself, feeling less disoriented but no less confused, and horrified. How the hell is this happening?

“What floor?” Soonyoung asks a moment later, when the elevator doesn't move. The back of Jihoon’s neck burns from sudden embarrassment.

“Seventeen,” he mutters. Soonyoung turns to press the button, but not before Jihoon catches his furrowed brows, as though the word rings some bell that’s long been gathering dust. Jihoon wonders how the members would react if he told them.

They’d probably stare at him in horror. Are you crazy? Chan might say. Seokmin might frown and catch him later, his disbelief always the quickest to cave. After all, he’d cried the most when the news headline numbed them all with shock and grief, hoping that this might have just been a nightmare.

The door slides open and Jihoon reawakens in this new nightmare. Soonyoung gestures for him to go first.

Jihoon’s shoes click against the tiles as he walks. Soonyoung’s makes no noise.

He’s able to get his apartment door open this time and briefly considers slamming the door in Soonyoung’s face, but Soonyoung jams his shoulder against the door like he knew it’d happen. Jihoon jerks back from the door. Soonyoung sidles in.

Jihoon does his best to ignore him, kicking off his shoes and throwing his coat over the back of a chair. Soonyoung hovers nearby, uselessly. Jihoon scrubs his leftover dishes furiously. They say nothing.

Eventually, Jihoon runs out of things to do. He reluctantly joins Soonyoung at the table.

“Why are you here?” Jihoon finally asks.

Soonyoung smiles lightly. It’s cordial. It’s horrific. Soonyoung never smiles at him like that.

“I figured there are some things you’d wanna ask,” he says softly. “Based on how you reacted when you saw…me.”

Fair enough, Jihoon supposes. He looks at this sculpture-Soonyoung in front of him, hair neatly styled, dressed in a black blazer, face calm but cool, devoid of the fire Soonyoung had always carried with him, like an internal hearth, and knows that this is not his Soonyoung.

“Okay,” he says wearily. “Yeah.”

-

“Who was…I before?”

“The love of my life. He died five months ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. How are you here?”

“I don’t know. I woke up under a bridge.”

“Why are you here?”

“I knew I had to come here. I don’t know why.”

“Oh. Okay. Do you remember…anything?”

“No. Can you tell me?”

-

Jihoon talks for much longer than he anticipated. He tells this Soonyoung in front of him about the little things Soonyoung liked to do, the river walk dates and the songwriting sessions, the tiger stuffy collection, the dance studio he opened after disbandment with Chan. He talks about Soonyoung’s ricocheting laughter, the birds that liked to land on his shoulders. He talks about his gentleness, the way he loved Jihoon like everyday was their last.

He recounts the first time Soonyoung asked him out, a brazen two-year old idol, backstage at Inkigayo, when the infamous sandwich was still a thing. They had their first kiss in the dorm shower, both of them giddy on the high of winning another award. He smiles as he talks, and maybe he cries too, but the Soonyoung in front of him sits quietly, listening, and Jihoon keeps talking.

“What was he to you?” This Soonyoung asks, finally, when it’s dark enough that they can see their reflections in the window.

“Everything,” Jihoon answers hoarsely, honestly, scraped raw and hollow, and not just from the talking. “He was the fire to my wood.”

Soonyoung tilts his head. “He burned you out?”

Jihoon huffs a laugh. “Maybe sometimes,” he admits. “But he helped me burn, helped me light the way.”

Soonyoung hums. Jihoon falls silent.

“I’m…sorry,” Soonyoung says after a while, hesitantly. Jihoon looks up, startled. “I’m sorry I’m not your Soonyoung.”

“It’s…” Jihoon trails off, fingers twisting together. It’s not okay, but — “Maybe I needed you more,” he tries. Soonyoung’s the one startled this time.

“What?”

Jihoon breathes in. The horror has receded, leaving behind the dull ache he’s grown used to now. He smiles a little at this Soonyoung.

“Maybe you were what I needed, to begin moving on.” He rolls his head around, hearing the light cracks, tension being let go of. “I think I needed to see him again, but tell someone else everything. Someone who didn’t know him.”

“Perhaps,” Soonyoung agrees. “Maybe you needed to see him to let him go.”

They fall silent again, but this time it feels comfortable. Jihoon feels his eyelids droop. It’s the first time he’s felt properly sleepy since that day.

“Go sleep,” Soonyoung says. Jihoon nods.

-

When he’s drifting in that liminal stage between sleep and wakefulness, Jihoon asks a question into the darkness.

“Are you real?” He croaks, groggy. The question feels too important to wait.

The darkness ripples, then stills.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Soonyoung’s voice is close, gentle. Jihoon misses him in a sudden surge, but it doesn’t overwhelm him. “Did it matter?”

feeding a criminal appetite

[uglyfics]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: YEARNING!
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

The first semester she was my lifeline. It was a clandestine form of dating—the kind where the person you're going out with doesn't know it's a date. I denied myself, and I denied the fact that she was part of my life, so much so that I denied the dotted line that connected the two of us and our entire relationship to a crime. But the eye of suspicion had been cast upon me from the very beginning, and this extraordinary eye reached all the way back to my adolescence. My hair started to go gray early. Life ahead was soon supplanted by a miserable prison sentence. It was as if I never really had a youth. Nonetheless, I was determined at all costs to become a person who would love without boundaries. And so I locked myself and that eye together in a dark closet.

—Qiu Miaojin, Notes of a Crocodile

[FILL] plum blossom

[tangerinekth]

Ship/Member: joshua/junhui
Major Tags: none
Additional Tags: yearning, mild sexual content, mention of alcohol use, minor wonhui, the intimacy of playing the piano for someone, inspired by plum blossom by chen yi
Permission to remix: please ask

***

at 23-years-old, wen junhui is still unsure whether he chose the piano or the piano chose him. he likes to believe it was the former. little 3-year-old him clambering onto a piano bench at the mall and tapping at the keys while making noises of absolute joy. but sometimes he wonders if it's the latter.

he wonders that now, sitting in the waiting room before his audition. less than 100 people make it past the preliminary round of the chopin competition. there are some people who have won enough major competitions that they can advance without needing to be here. like joshua hong. joshua is someone who truly chose the piano.

joshua is probably sitting in his apartment 7,736 kilometers away.

junhui runs through the five pieces he is about to play in his head again. étude op. 10, no. 1; étude op. 25, no. 6; nocturnes, op. 55, no.2; fantaisie, op. 49; and mazurkas, op. 17; and op. 41. absolute gibberish to almost everyone in junhui's life, but wonwoo had assured him they were all the best choices. his long fingers will benefit him for the first étude and hopefully, the judges will give him extra points for perfecting étude op. 25, no. 6, regarded as one of the most difficult of chopin's 24. the mazurkas are what worry junhui the most. op. 17 is around 14 minutes long and the two of them combined will leave him truly exhausted.

but it's fine. he will have plenty of time to rest on the eleven-hour flight back to seoul.

a door finally opens. a woman calls his name. junhui drags his heavy bones towards the room and doesn't take a proper breath until he's finally seated. he looks at the keys and counts to ten. when he gets to five, he contemplates running out of the room. he reaches ten and places his hands on the keys.

his mother had told him when he was younger that he had the perfect hands for a pianist. he wonders if she would have still said that if his relatives hadn't all gushed over him when he played für elise at age five. he had smiled and told her thanks because the idea of being a genius is everything to a child.

junhui does the same thing now. he bows to the judges after playing his last note in a-flat minor and smiles and thanks every face he passes until he finds himself on the streets of warsaw again. the second he smells fresh air, he begins taking off his suit jacket and then proceeds to yank his cummerbund off his waist as if it were a shackle around his neck.

it's july and the sun is beating down on his face. he considers calling someone before his flight in two hours. wonwoo because he's probably curious how he did, and then joshua because—

no reason. he has no reason to call joshua.

he ends up calling no one and texts wonwoo that he'll be in incheon at around 7am. wonwoo responds in seconds that he'll be there with mingyu to pick him up. joshua will have to know he's back the same way everyone else will, through a text in the group chat by mingyu. junhui wonders if it will hurt his feelings, him not updating joshua on his whereabouts whenever he leaves. junhui thinks he would be hurt if joshua did the same thing. but then again, joshua is not in love with junhui.

and junhui swears he is not in love with joshua.

-

the school year starts again, and joshua is there sitting in the second row of junhui's graduate-level composition seminar. it is instinct to sit beside him, but it is the reality that he will sit three rows back and four seats to the left. the person that fills that seat by joshua is a stranger to junhui and something ugly rears its head in junhui's mind when he sees them so casually leaning on joshua, shoulders touching, lips near his ear as he whispers something junhui doesn't care to know.

because whatever may or may not go on between them is not junhui's business. he and joshua are friends in the loosest terms. two people who do not hang out but are pushed into the occasional proximity by others, two people on similar paths that started in different countries but have led them to the same school, same room on a cool august morning.

the junhui from four years ago had thought it was fate. the winner of the ettore pozzoli competition, joshua hong, living in the dorm room across from him in seoul, south korea. junhui had wondered if it was appropriate to call himself a fan. if it was too much to ask joshua if he remembered him from the competition where junhui had been his runner-up. he embarrassed himself by doing both.

joshua laughed in response, but kindly. he apologized for not recognizing junhui, he said he was too stressed at the time to notice anything going on. then he invited junhui to lunch. conversation was easy, they had what could have been too much in common. foreigners in a country they blended into, artists labeled geniuses too young, two men who had given up their youths for the sake of music, an intangible thing that reaped them the benefits of money, prestige, another trophy on a shelf, another certificate for their parents.

"who is your favorite composer?" joshua had asked him. it was no longer lunch. the moon was high up in the sky and the bench was wet where the two sat. joshua was too close. his breath smelled like the white grape soju from the convenience store they passed. heat radiated where his bare arm leaned against junhui's.

"chen yi," junhui answered. joshua furrowed his brows as he tried to recognize the chinese composer junhui had named. if junhui was feeling less honest, he would have just said schubert. but joshua's gaze on him could and would pull out whatever truths they wanted. junhui wondered if they could be soulmates.

"i don't know them. i've always been a fan of liszt, the romantic period classics." joshua replied. junhui didn't say that he knew that already, from the youtube videos of all of joshua's performances. instead, he wondered if joshua was feeling whatever he was, something nameless that felt taboo. but he never asked, only gave joshua his number when it was requested and walked beside him back to their dorms, hands brushing every other step.

"i'll see you around?" junhui had lamely said. joshua nodded with flushed cheeks.

"yeah, see you, jun."

that first semester of university for junhui ended up being the closest he ever had to peace. joshua understood him in a way no one else did. he was his solace, his lifeline, understood the pressures of the world they were both in, and let junhui release his pent-up stress by going on runs in the park, spending hours taking turns playing the piano in the music hall, talking until the sunrise about the homes they missed, and a kiss.

one kiss.

it was snowing. junhui initiated it. joshua had looked too beautiful with his hair dyed chestnut brown. joshua kissed him back until he wasn't anymore. until he was squeezing junhui's hand and smiling while saying, "i don't think we should be doing things like this, jun-ah." junhui wanted to ask what he meant. who "we" were? was it because they were both men? was it because they were competing against each other the next month? was it because joshua had simply never seen him as more?

junhui never got to find out. he doesn't remember the rest of that evening, only his response, "you're right. sorry, hyung." and then he was waking up the next day and joshua was treating him the same as always. nothing changed even though something should have.

at the next competition, they both traveled to paris, and junhui placed first and joshua took fifth. when junhui congratulated him, joshua didn't hug him back. he pulled away and didn't tell junhui he was leaving france a day earlier than him. junhui toured the louvre alone and sent joshua a horribly zoomed-in photo of the mona lisa.

when joshua did not respond, junhui realized the magnitude of what he'd done. flown too close to the sun, touched it, burned too fast, and fell too hard.

when he returned to south korea, he made the choice to stay away before joshua could make it for him. the new year passed alone and the next semester, junhui met jeon wonwoo. wonwoo was not a pianist but his father was a composer. he could talk about music too, understood the pressure, and saw parts of junhui that used to only be joshua's. but joshua was still the one junhui met in foreign cities, oceans away in a black suit, waiting for his time in front of the audience. they would take turns placing higher than the other. joshua in budapest, junhui in munich, joshua in brussels, junhui in leipzig.

they got dinner together once in brussels. they were five tables apart but there were red flowers on both their tables in a restaurant of white and yellow. fate, junhui did not call it. because it cannot be fate if you are not a part of each other's lives. but dinner went well anyways. junhui got the shrimp and joshua got the steak. they decided not to drink and opted out of dessert. they walked together on opposite sides of the road to the same hotel.

"i'll see you next time," junhui had said to the moon, and only the moon.

he did not wait to see if the moon responded back.

-

"i didn't know you're close to shua hyung." junhui looks up from his phone to see his underclassmen friends, seungkwan and chan, sitting beside him on the grass.

"i'm not," junhui corrects. "we just used to live on the same floor and now hang out with you guys." the first part was not essential. half of junhui's friends don't even know where he lived freshman year. yet junhui chooses to establish a connection before them anyways.

"but you guys are in piano competitions together all the time, right? so don't you guys see each other when you're both out of school?" chan asks, connecting the dotted line further. "why don't you guys fly out together?" junhui remembers that seungkwan and chan joined the friend group wonwoo introduced junhui to one year ago. that's why they ask. not to tease, not to belittle, not to remind junhui of his failure. but because they're curious why two of their friends who have so much in common do not speak to each other.

"i don't know," junhui responds, smiling.

"oh, speak of the devil! shua hyung!" seungkwan calls as he spots the graduate student walking out of the arts building. joshua sees them and his smile fractures for only a second when he sees junhui with them.

"i should go," junhui says when joshua is nearing less than ten meters away. chan says something in response but junhui doesn't catch it. he throws his backpack over his shoulder and walks too fast for someone who shouldn't be afraid, for someone who should be able to look joshua hong in the eye.

junhui wonders as he runs away, if they put every moment of their lives on a map, how many times he and joshua would intersect. they were both three when they touched a piano for the first time, both six when they won their first competitions, both in middle school when they moved to south korea, both too old yet too young when they realized they were one of tens of thousands of "geniuses."

on a map, they have met in over two dozen cities. they have gone on what neither should know as dates in at least four of them.

-

"are you in love with him?" wonwoo asks, the week after junhui returned from warsaw. junhui is in the middle of playing hungarian rhapsody no. 2 on the keyboard in wonwoo's apartment.

"who are you talking about?" junhui responds, not looking up from the keys. he knows this piece as if it were a lullaby his mother sang to him as a child, as if it were in the background of a dream.

"joshua," wonwoo answers. he comes up behind junhui and lays his arms over the elder's shoulders as the song ends. "i'm pretty sure you're in love with him." playing the piano makes you vulnerable, honest. junhui thinks that's why wonwoo thinks he can see through him.

"i don't know what you're talking about," junhui says with a laugh. the last time he had seen joshua was when they had both made it to the final program. junhui played piano concerto no. 1, op. 11, and joshua played piano concerto no. 2, op. 21. joshua got first, as junhui expected, and junhui placed third. they had gotten lunch after.

wonwoo nods and presses a kiss against the crown of junhui's head, where his hair has started to grey. you age quicker when you let an instrument consume you, let the piano strip away the parts of you that used to shine.

"whenever you play romantic period pieces, you get this look in your eye. it's the same way you look at him from the across the room sometimes," wonwoo goes on. his lips meet junhui's nape, then the side of his neck. his arms tighten as he pulls junhui to rest again his chest.

"i don't think of joshua hong," junhui tells him, eyes on the middle c of the piano. he grasps wonwoo's hands on his arm and turns to look up at him.

"can you prove it?" wonwoo asks, no hint of amusement on his face. the younger has always been genuine in his words.

junhui answers by placing a hand on the back of his head and pulling him into a kiss. wonwoo kisses back immediately and deeply, like he is trying to pull truths out of junhui's mouth with his tongue. they end up on the bed with wonwoo looking down at him and junhui can tell that he is waiting. for a confession, a plea, an explanation, or perhaps a song. junhui gives him none of those and pulls his shirt over his head instead.

wonwoo is gentle and holds junhui the way he sees himself in the mirror: fragile, like glass, one push away from breaking. he provides momentary pleasure in the life junhui sees as an endless cycle. they kiss again and again. junhui only imagines it is joshua three times during the act. the first when wonwoo sucks a dark mark into the side of his neck, the second when wonwoo runs his hands over his ribs and calls him beautiful, and the third after they have both reached their highs and wonwoo collapses on top of him.

after wonwoo pulls out, throws out the condom, and wipes them both down, he lays beside junhui in bed, and tugs the blanket to both of their chins.

"if you did love him, how would you?" wonwoo asks. junhui wonders if wonwoo is a masochist. but wonwoo values honesty, so junhui answers with the truth.

"i would love him with everything i had. love him so much that i would burn the world for him if he asked. turn everything to flames, the piano, music, myself." he looks wonwoo in the eye. "i think i would love him like that. i don't think anything would be able to stop me."

wonwoo does not seem surprised by junhui's answer, hardly phased as he closes his eyes and rests his head against junhui's chest.

"the next time you see joshua, i think you should really talk to him." wonwoo says this like there's a secret he knows that junhui does not. junhui does not beg for it, only runs a hand through wonwoo's dark hair and squeezes his hand.

-

the next time junhui sees joshua is in sydney. joshua is waiting for him outside the concert hall and their eyes meet. they walk next to each other in silence out of the opera house and do not stop until they reach a red light.

"was i imagining it when you kissed me back four years ago?" junhui asks as the streetlight flashes at them.

"no," joshua responds. the light turns green. when junhui speeds up half a step as they cross, joshua does too. they race down the road like children and junhui runs until he is out of breath and shaking with laughter.

when he turns back, joshua is a block behind, and he is laughing too.

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

[And when you give me your clothes / and when we're lovers at last
Fresh air, perfume in your nose / there will be teeth in the grass
...
And when you give me your house / when we're all brothers at last
There will be food in our mouths / there will be teeth in the grass

- Teeth in the Grass, Iron & Wine

[uglyfics]

Ship/Member: Any (getting JWW vibes tho...)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: maybe rebound fic? or just complicated emotions
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Maybe you just miss the springtime
Where the petals get pearly from your screen light
You got your phone out early to catch the bloom in her hair
While you're losing your air to the shine
But you just need the springtime
Because the tides are turning now and you find
I get your insides churning
It's not that I'm unfazed, yeah, I just know my place, oh

— Linying, Springtime (bolding my addition)

[FILL] as that hollow moon

[fleurissons]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Wonwoo, (Jeonghan/Mingyu)

Major Tags: N/A

Additional Tags: hooking up with your best friend’s pseudo-ex, non-explicit sex, minwon roommates…but not in the way you think

Permission to remix: Yes

op I don't know if this is in any shape or form what you had in mind but um. it took a life of its own. sorry?

/

It is terrible to desire and not possess, and terrible to possess and not desire.
— W. B. Yeats.

/

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Wonwoo placed his palm flat against the wall, intrigued. Months ago, having been ensnared in the irresistible net of Mingyu’s persuasion, Wonwoo had granted his roommate’s boyfriend the privilege to come and go as he pleased. Jeonghan had their door code—he could have used it if he wanted to.

“Mingyu’s not here,” Wonwoo prompted when Jeonghan did nothing but stare at him.

“I knew that,” Jeonghan waved a dismissive hand. “I’m here to see you.”

He arched an eyebrow, a wordless me? Jeonghan nodded and gave him a crooked smile.

“We were friends first, you know.” Expectation turned Jeonghan’s irises a shade lighter. “Does Mingyu have to get you in the divorce just because you two live together?”

Wonwoo supposed not.

So he said, “Come on in.”

Having had no intention to discuss what happened with Mingyu, Jeonghan immediately ransacked the cabinet under the TV and tossed one of Wonwoo’s controllers at him. Out of respect, Wonwoo indulged him in a game of Mario Kart.

Last Friday, he came home to the unpleasant aftermath of a fight. A proper one, judging by Mingyu’s clenched fists and Jeonghan’s crimson nape. Wonwoo took one look at them and chose to pay the price of an immediate retreat: nescience. He never enjoyed being an audience to a lover's spat. Ironic, considering arguments were far from the most intimate affair of theirs he had taken part in.

Wonwoo heard them fucking, too, and often.

He never brought up the topic, but Mingyu would tiptoe into the kitchen mid-noon the next day and do a poor job of feigning embarrassment. Did you hear us? Nope. Hyung. I didn’t. Sorry if you did. I didn’t, Mingyu-yah. Okay, Wonu-hyung, if you say so. Jeonghan never bothered trying. We used ropes for the first time and he got really into it. Ah, did he? Yeah. Wonungie, do we have eggs in the fridge? Every time, Wonwoo anticipated one of them to call him out: you know, we heard you too. And every time, his choked-out moans of their names, spilt at the precipice of his release, remained an unaddressed elephant for a while longer.

The morning after his fight with Jeonghan, Mingyu had announced, “We broke up for good,” apropos of nothing.

Wonwoo looked up, fingertip tracing the rim of his half-empty coffee cup. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Mingyu tsked and pushed back his chair, its feet producing a cacophonous harmony as they flayed the floorboards. Ah, he's thinning our deposit bond, Wonwoo thought, staring at the friction marks. The horrible song persisted as Mingyu stomped to his room and slammed the door shut. Wonwoo finished his coffee and lay down on the couch. The cushion smelled of Jeonghan’s shampoo.

He turned on his stomach. Pressed his face against the velvet. Inhaled.

/

Jeonghan’s golden strands tickled Wonwoo’s jaw as he charted a new path down his neck. Ten minutes ago, when Jeonghan had stopped the game unprompted, Wonwoo turned towards him on instinct, a question ready to launch from the tip of his tongue. Jeonghan had robbed him of his coherence when he greeted Wonwoo lips first. Wonwoo wouldn’t trust his own testimony of what happened between then and now.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything,” Wonwoo proposed breathlessly as Jeonghan worked open his buttons.

Jeonghan wrenched away. “Of course it means something,” he argued heatedly, lips the colour of lust. “It has to.”

His intensity stunned Wonwoo. Flames danced in Jeonghan’s eyes, so scintillating they could almost be mistaken as true passion—except Wonwoo tasted spite when Jeonghan swiped his tongue over the back of his teeth. Who did he want the act to hold meaning for? Wonwoo wondered. The people in this room, or the person absent?

“You’re so good, Wonungie,” Jeonghan praised sweetly. His honey voice morphed into an acerbic whisper when he claimed, “so much better than—“

Wonwoo silenced him before Jeonghan had the chance to finish his sentence. Upon separation, Jeonghan laughed and buried his delight into the hinge of Wonwoo’s jaw. Wonwoo stared at a photograph of Mingyu over his bare shoulder, mouthing at the constellation of freckles gracing the bony edge. They could’ve been friends, he and Jeonghan. They were friends before Wonwoo introduced him to Mingyu. Before Mingyu asked Wonwoo out on a date and Wonwoo turned him down. Before Mingyu showed up short of two weeks later with an arm around Jeonghan’s waist. If someone were to question who was in the middle of who and who, Wonwoo wouldn’t be able to give them a straight answer.

“Maybe you would’ve been better in everything else, too.”

Wonwoo sincerely doubted that.

/

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Wonwoo leaned against the door.

Jeonghan looked at him through those lashes that had swept over the arch of Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Is Mingoo here?”

He nodded.

“Mingyu-yah?” Wonwoo sung.

“Yes, hyung?”

Recognising the direction from which Mingyu's answering verse had come, Jeonghan fixed his gaze at a distant spot behind Wonwoo. When he got up to answer the door, Wonwoo had left Mingyu spread-eagled on his bed, steam billowing from his post-shower skin, body hot to the touch. He was scrolling through his Instagram's saved posts in search of a restaurant he wanted to try with Wonwoo tonight.

“Someone’s here to see you."

Wonwoo stepped aside and let Jeonghan in.

say what you can't say

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Junhui/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Love is a dress that you made / long to hide your knees
Love to say this to your face, "I'll love you only"
For your daze and excitement / what will you keep for to wear
Someday drawing you different / may I be weaved in your hair?
Love and some verses you hear / say what you can't say
Love to say this in your ear, "I'll love you that way"

- Love and Some Verses, Iron & Wine

sorry for not making you my centerfold

[replaydebut]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: break-up, angst, maybe even divorce if you wanna take it there
Additional Tags: idolverse & the complications of dating your member in the long-term when you both know traditional domesticity isn’t an option…
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Break my soul in two
Looking for you but you're right here
If I can't relate to you anymore
Then who am I related to?
And if this is the long haul
How'd we get here so soon?
Did I close my fist around something delicate?
Did I shatter you?

&

The question pounds my head
"What's a lifetime of achievement?"
If I pushed you to the edge
But you were too polite to leave me
And do you miss the rogue
Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?
Will you forgive my soul
When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?
'Cause we were like the mall before the Internet
It was the one place to be
The mischief, the gift wrapped suburban dreams
Sorry for not winning you an arcade ring

—— Coney Island by Taylor Swift ft.The National

[FILL]: sorry for not making you my centerfold

[biggrstaffbunch]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Joshua
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: post-disbandement, breakup, ambiguous ending
Permission to remix: please ask!


***


In the end, Joshua moves back to the States. Vernon has an apartment in lower Manhattan and room for one more, and though Joshua needs distance, he can’t bring himself to cut ties completely with the last decade and change of his life. New York, and Vernon, will do.

“I need seasons,” he tells his mom, “after so long living in Seoul.”

He doesn’t tell her that being in LA reminds him of things better left buried. That home is a place and a person at the same time, and it keeps chasing him across continents.

A memory and a ghost, both named Yoon Jeonghan.

Find the rest on AO3 here

home/sickness

[sido_rlo]

Ship/Member: Any, network love line?
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

“Is there a direction home that doesn’t point backward?” — Paul Chan

desire as a weapon / desire as a shield

[ghostscissoring]

Ship/Member: jeonghan/any, or any/any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I pretended not to see, although I exploited it, the lust not quite sleeping in his bright, bitter eyes and, by means of the rough, male candor with which I conveyed to him his case was hopeless, I compelled him, endlessly, to hope."

- James Baldwin, Giovanni's Room

[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?

is this love?

[harbourdreams]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: realization of feelings (but only when it's too late to act on them)
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

The rain against the window
Taps and flickers
Those eyes that appear
That face that appears
Is this love?

— final verse of Is This Love by Hahn Dae-soo, translated by me. Paired with:

When it rains, I miss you.

— predebut acrostic poem by Jeon Wonwoo (even though it's his quote, he doesn't necessarily have to be involved in the story)

is it really love if it doesn't hurt?

[ghostscissoring]

Ship/Member: jeonghan/any (maybe gyuhan?), or any/any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: exes to lovers
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

To be loved by Susan would be to be impaled by a bird's sharp beak, to be nailed to a barnyard door. Yet there are moments when I could wish to be speared by a beak, to be nailed to a barnyard door, positively, once and for all.

The Waves - Virginia Woolf

i beg for empathy, you give me nothing

[hoshism]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: exes, pining
Do Not Wants: mcd

Prompt:

Get a rise out of watching you fall
Get a kick out of missing your call
I hate me enough for the two of us
Hate that I can't let go of you enough, this why
I fuck him 'cause I miss you
I fuck him 'cause I really miss you

— F2F, SZA

i know it’s a little late

[kwontent]

Ship/Member: Any but…….. jeonghan………..
Major Tags: recovering from a serious illness/accident, survivor’s guilt
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

am I supposed to be
grateful
to have survived this?

- brenna twohy

[FILL] dead thing walking around among the living

[wonwoo420]

ship/member: seokhan
major tags: terminal illness, suicide
additional tags: honestly thought i had outgrown writing angst but jeonghan came into my life, seokmin being seokmin
permission to remix: yes, bonus if you can make this happier...

***
jeonghan doesn't mean to shout but it comes out that way, startling seokmin. the pill bottle clatters to the floor, at least it hasn't been uncapped, and seokmin instantly crouches to pick it up, hand braced on the table, covering the sharp corner. jeonghan wants to scream. he's not gonna run head first onto it but now he wants to.

"here, hyung," seokmin tries again, like jeonghan didn't just yell at him to fuck off. he keeps his eyes on the bottle as he offers it.

he knows if seokmin looks up his eyes will be shiny with tears, as if he hasn't cried about jeonghan enough in this lifetime. jeonghan is tired of it.

he's so tired of "being brave" and "hanging in there." he wanted so badly to just end it. seokmin just had to be seokmin and find him bleeding on the bathroom floor just with enough life in him to still be saved, as if he doesn't already waste every waking hour caring for him.

jeonghan isn't going to survive the cancer. he wasn't supposed to survive cutting himself either, but he did, and he killed seokmin in the process.

seokmin can't look him in the eye since he came home from the hospital, he hasn't looked at his own phone in days in case something makes him god forbid laugh or smile, he talks to jeonghan now in hushed tones like jeonghan will spook and collapse like a house of cards.

he's angry seokmin won't let him the fuck go. jeonghan wanted to stop being a burden and he went and made himself a bigger one.

he dry swallows the two tablets he was newly prescribed, goes to the counter to take the dozen other ones. seokmin watches him quietly, hand on the fridge door in case jeonghan would like water. jeonghan hates it.

he turns to return to their room.

mingyu comes in with a big box of groceries. "deliveryyy," he singsongs. he tries to put it on the table but sees the mess of medications, lab results, fresh rolls of bandages.

"i'll get it," seokmin says. he turns away for one moment to sniff back his stupid tears.

"i'll do it," jeonghan says.

"seokmin will do it, hyung, don't worry," mingyu says. he sighs. "i wish he was this diligent when we were roommates, you're so lucky, hyung."

"mingyu—"

"fuck."

jeonghan had thought: if he ended it, it would be easier. he wouldn't have to suffer and keep stringing seokmin along in his suffering. perhaps seokmin will even get mad at him, bury him in memory after he does literally. jeonghan thought that would be okay since he wouldn't be around for it.

jeonghan didn't think: seokmin would clutch at him like he is life itself, sacrifice his own bright spirit so jeonghan would hold on a little longer. it's jeonghan who is sick, it's him who tried to kill himself, and yet it's seokmin who is a ghost.

[ghostscissoring]

Ship/Member: jeongcheol, cheolhao, seokhao, or any/any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: seeing each other for the first time after years apart, magical realism or maybe one of them is a god/deity of some kind (if ya want!), hands as instruments of worship
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Rippling gold, I say to him, "Come." And he comes; he crosses the room to where I sit...Our hands touch, our bodies burst into fire. The chair, the cup, the table - nothing remains unlit. All quivers, all kindles, all burns clear.

The Waves - Virginia Woolf