2025 Round: Quotes

[hwarium]

Status: Open Prompting is currently open. Prompting is open from 28 December 2024 to 19 January 2025. Seventeen Holidays 2025 Round: Quotes About "the poem begins not where the knife enters, but where the blade twists" "beauty is terror" "you'll just have to taste me, when he's kissing you" 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 a hit tweet. 🛑 HOLD UP If this is your first time on 17hols please check out our About Page which has helpful information about 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 TWITTER BAITS ✧ 2025 ROUND: QUOTES ✧ 2025 FILLS MASTERLIST ARCHIVE: 2021 ARCHIVE: 2022 ARCHIVE: 2023 NOTION DATABASE

Comments

awkward

[ninamonday]

Ship/Member: Any (Wonwoo?)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

even though it’s awkward, it's perfect
I'm lovin' it, you just can't lie
...
The reason I pretended not to notice is 'cause I know you're so cute, babe

Twice, like it like it

[FILL] like it like it

[m1ntea]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Wonwoo
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Office!au, awkward flirting, (banging fists on table) Wonwoo from IT! Wonwoo from IT!
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Jeonghan sits in Mingyu’s oversized ergonomic monstrosity of a desk chair, swiveling idly back and forth. He’s positioned himself to achieve an optimal view of where Jeon Wonwoo from the IT department is attempting to troubleshoot a malfunctioning monitor at Jeonghan’s desk. The rest of the office floor is nearly empty, most people having already headed home for the day; Jeonghan is the lone straggler remaining from his team. He’s honestly lucky that someone from the IT team had still been around, much less willing to come up to the seventh floor to investigate his ticket. He’s extra lucky that the tech who showed up was Wonwoo.

Wonwoo’s sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, showing off his forearms, and his dress shirt pulls tight across his back as he leans across Jeonghan’s desk. The pose itself isn’t particularly sexy—he’s twisted nearly upside down, neck straining in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable as he messes with the cable inputs at the back of Jeonghan’s monitor—but Jeonghan drinks it in regardless. Wonwoo has an awkward kind of charm that Jeonghan finds irresistible, much to the annoyance amusement of his coworkers.

(Mingyu’s pointed eye-rolling doesn’t count, he is a romantic at heart and is secretly invested— Jeonghan knows because Seokmin snitched on him).

Jeonghan didn’t orchestrate this particular tech malfunction. He’d been caught completely by surprise when he returned from his last meeting of the day and found that his external monitor, which worked perfectly fine not even an hour before, refused to connect to his laptop. But if some of his previous “emergencies” requiring the attention of the IT department had been slightly less unintentional, well. It’s not like any of his coworkers would dare to comment on it.

(Seungcheol would dare, but Seungcheol also opened a link in a phishing email once and got the entire internal network stuck in lockdown for a whole day, so he no longer holds any credibility within the office on tech-related matters.)

Besides, it’s not like Wonwoo seems to mind. He always shows up with a small smile and an earnestly enthusiastic greeting. Jeonghan asked once if Wonwoo minded having to come fix issues that people should have been able to solve on their own. They were waiting for an update to run on Jeonghan’s laptop, something that Jeonghan absolutely could have done by himself. Wonwoo just shrugged. It’s an excuse to escape from the help desk emails, he’d said with a wry smile, and I don’t mind spending time with you. Then he remembered to be shy, snapping his mouth shut as his ears flamed bright red.

“That should do it,” Wonwoo says now, disentangling himself from Jeonghan’s monitor setup and standing up. He holds the end of a USB-C cable out toward Jeonghan. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Jeonghan scoots his chair over, then wakes and unlocks his laptop. He plugs the cord in. They both hold their breath as, for a moment, nothing happens— then the monitor flickers to life and Wonwoo lets out a relieved sigh while Jeonghan cheers.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jeonghan says, which is true in general but perhaps a bit of a stretch in this particular case. All Jeonghan really has left to do tonight is send a couple of semi-time-sensitive emails that could probably wait until the morning. But the words have their intended effect, making Wonwoo glow with quiet happiness.

“Glad I could help,” he says with utter sincerity. And this is probably when he should bow out gracefully and return to his own cubicle, but he continues to hover by Jeonghan’s desk, staying for long enough that the moment starts to turn awkward. He tucks his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. “Yoon daeri-nim?”

“Hm?” Jeonghan tilts his head, fixing Wonwoo with his most alluring smile. Gratifyingly, the tips of Wonwoo’s ears begin to flush.

“It’s late, have you eaten yet?”

Jeonghan can see Wonwoo agonizing over the words, talking around what he actually wants to say, as if there’s any chance Jeonghan would actually reject him; as if Jeonghan hasn’t been actively flirting with him for the past six months.

“I haven’t,” Jeonghan says, trying hard to keep his voice even instead of letting out another celebratory whoop. “Would you like to go grab something together?”

Relief dawns over Wonwoo’s face, and he nods perhaps a shade too enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s— I mean, I’d like that.”

“Great.” Jeonghan powers down his laptop—screw those emails—and shuts the lid with a decisive snap. He even reaches over to turn off his monitor, something he has literally never bothered to do ever before in his life. “Let’s go.”

Wonwoo blinks behind his distressingly sexy nerd glasses. “Right now?”

“Sure,” Jeonghan says with a shrug. “Why not?”

Wonwoo returns his smile, and it feels like a victory. “Okay,” he agrees. “But I’m paying.” His voice wavers slightly, and it’s not smooth in the least, but his determination is cute enough that Jeonghan is happy to pretend not to notice.

“Well, if a pretty boy wants to buy me dinner then who am I to say no?”


sliding in one last wonhan to end 2024

my life has been a colourful mess

[kkulecru]

Ship/Member: Any, though can I suggest a Joshua or Jeonghan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: maybe a solo idolverse moment, maybe the vulnerability of cleaning each other, love and/or intimacy and/or angst
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

This shower room is a chrysalis
And your body is like the butterfly
That is being bred to be born again

- Shower Song, Dabin

[FILL] somewhere beautiful

[tenderlyache]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Minghao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: au: non-famous, established relationship, the inherent intimacy of hair washing
Permission to remix: Yes

orwyn, sorry to stray from your suggested prompt! i did start this gdoc with idolverse yjh but somehow came out with this instead

***

Mingyu wasn’t hungry.

By the time he clocked out of his restaurant shift and started walking home, it was well past dinnertime — and yet. The smell of smoke and kitchen grease lingered on his body. He couldn’t stomach the thought.

Cooking a meal to share with Minghao used to be a ritual of comfort, a balm to the wear and tear of a long day. In turn, Minghao would brew a tea to complement Mingyu’s dish: earthy pu’er, fragrant jasmine, nutty shui xian.

Those occasions had tapered. Their work schedules clashed. Temporary, Minghao said, after taking on overnight shifts at their local GS25. Just to help us scrape by, until I can get my art career off the ground.

The weeks passed them by. That was nine months ago. Minghao’s gaiwan and tea leaves sat in their cupboard, untouched for eight months. Seven months ago, Mingyu’s hunger had left him.




When Mingyu went home for Seollal, his eomma pinched his cheeks. You’re looking thinner, she clucked. Have you been eating?

Yes, eomma, Mingyu replied dutifully, letting himself be fussed over.

It wasn’t false.

Mingyu ate all day. A spoonful here to taste for seasoning. A bite there to test for doneness. The sights and smells filled his senses with the illusion of satiety. After evening service, Mingyu went home and stared blankly into their refrigerator, standing barefoot in the kitchen.

Lobster and truffle and foie gras, he’d said to his eomma in reassurance, puffing out his chest with airy bravado. They’re spoiling us! I have an expensive palate now.

(What he really longed for was the taste of his eomma’s bulgogi. Homemade kimchi. Hachiya persimmons from his halmeoni’s tree.)




Mingyu dragged himself into their apartment and-

Minghao’s hair was a hack job. Mingyu tried not to openly gape, but as he approached, he realized it was wasted effort. Minghao didn’t even glance up, focused on snipping another lock of hair.

Mingyu surveyed the room, avoiding eye contact with Minghao's canvases. It was difficult not to look, considering they were encroaching upon every spare inch of their 9 pyeong studio apartment. His most recent piece took inspiration from Victorian hair art; Mingyu had contributed several locks of his own hair for it.

Mingyu touched the small of Minghao’s back. “Hey,” he said gently. “What are you doing?”

“I…” Minghao trailed off. His eyes were wide, gaze distant. “I needed more hair.”

“Okay.”

“I’m almost done with this piece. I just ran out of hair.”

Mingyu tamped down the prickling unease.

“It’s late,” Mingyu said finally. “Come get ready for bed?”

Mingyu pried the scissors from Minghao’s grip. Minghao’s hand shook.




The bathtub was a touch too small. After Minghao folded his lanky limbs into the tub, his knees jutted out over the surface.

“Lean back,” instructed Mingyu.

Eyes closed, Minghao obediently tipped his head into the cradle of Mingyu’s hand.

The sound of the trickling water filled the bathroom. Mingyu dipped the cup into the water again and again, pouring it carefully over Minghao’s hair to rinse away the suds.

When Mingyu massaged the base of Minghao’s neck, where he tended to carry tension, the furrow of Minghao’s brow smoothed out. I love you, thought Mingyu helplessly. It pulsated through him like a throb, down to his fingertips. I love you. He pressed it into Minghao’s skin. I love you.

His knees ached against the hard tile. He shifted his weight.

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Minghao.

“What for?”

Minghao shook his head.

“There’s nothing you have to be sorry for,” Mingyu said softly.

Minghao was quiet for a long moment. He tipped his head to the side and pressed a kiss to the inside of Mingyu’s forearm.

The gentle touch cracked open in Mingyu’s chest, unbearable.

“Do you still think about it?” Minghao’s voice came out a whisper. “When we used to talk about all the things we’d do. All the places we’d see.”

“Of course,” murmured Mingyu. “Of course I do.”

Thumbing at Minghao’s cheek, Mingyu wicked away a stray water droplet.

“I’ll take you somewhere beautiful,” Mingyu said, voice shaky. He swallowed hard until he trusted himself to sound steady. “And I’ll build us that house on the beach. It has a bathtub. One big enough for your long legs.”

Minghao laughed, watery.

Mingyu leaned down to give Minghao an open-mouthed kiss.

When Minghao pulled back, he kept his arms looped around Mingyu’s neck, then said, “I bought you a persimmon.”

Mingyu felt the smile split his mouth. “Really?”

“A hachiya. It’s ripe, so you should eat it soon.”

“Tomorrow,” promised Mingyu. “I’ll cook something and we’ll share it after.”

REM

[ninamonday]

Ship/Member: Seungkwan/TXT Soobin
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Little interactions, been having these recurring dreams
I can't help but imagine that you and I are meant to be

Kiss of Life, R.E.M.

[FILL] REM

[m1ntea]

Ship/Member: Seungkwan/TXT Soobin
Major Tags: None
Additional Tags: Canon Divergence
Permission to remix: Yes

***

“—kwan-ah, hey, wake up.”

Seungkwan groans, reluctant to leave his dream behind. It’s one he’s been having frequently lately, half-memory and half-fantasy: he’s at the filming site from the Hybe Game Caterer’s special, surrounded by verdant grass and white pop-up tents, but there’s no one else there except for Seungkwan and Soobin. Music is playing in the distance, and Soobin is smiling at him.

Come on, hyung, Soobin says. Don’t you want to dance with me?

A hand jostles his shoulder, finally pushing Seungkwan from dream into reality. He blinks open eyes heavy with sleep and makeup, letting the world slowly come into focus. The first thing he notices is his manager, looming into his field of vision— the culprit who disturbed Seungkwan’s sleep. The next thing he notices is another blurry shape behind his manager, significantly taller and better dressed.

“It’s okay,” the blur is saying in a familiar voice. “I don’t want to disturb him, I can come back later.”

“Soobin-ah?” Seungkwan croaks out. He nearly brings a hand up to rub at his eyes, before catching himself at the last second. His makeup artist is on her break right now, and she would have his head if she came back to all her hard work smudged to hell.

“Hi hyung.” The blur inches closer as Seungkwan’s manager moves out of the way. Seungkwan blinks again, and again, until Soobin sharpens into focus. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to bother you. I just had a bit of downtime, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“You’re not bothering me,” Seungkwan says, the end of the words embarrassingly garbled by a yawn. Years of conditioning have him immediately bracing to be clowned by at least one, if not many more, of his group members, but the teasing never comes. He’s using this waiting room alone today, courtesy of a drama OST that went viral enough for one of the music shows to invite him for a special stage. Minghao and Vernon stopped by earlier in the morning to offer support during the pre-recording, but they’ve since departed for other schedules. At the moment it’s just Seungkwan and the handful of staff who came to help— and now Soobin, too.

Soobin, who looks quite literally like something out of Seungkwan’s dreams. His hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a fitted black suit. He’s a guest MC for the day, and the theme seems to be something around secret agents. Seungkwan doesn’t know, and he doesn’t particularly care. All that matters is that Soobin looks good.

Maybe Seungkwan is still half-asleep, lost in a haze of large hands, long legs, and a sheepish smile, because it feels easier than anything to reach out and hook a finger through one of Soobin’s belt loops. Soobin makes a noise of surprise, but goes along easily when Seungkwan pulls him closer to the couch he’d been napping on.

“Hyung?” Soobin asks, laughter in his voice.

“How long do you have until you need to get back?” Seungkwan stares up at Soobin and wonders if he’ll dream about this later, too. If this small interaction will become yet another of his recurring dreams.

Soobin glances to the corner, where a large clock hangs next to the TV used for monitoring. “Mm, at least ten minutes? Maybe twenty.”

“Stay for a bit?” Seungkwan finally lets go of Soobin’s pants and pats the space beside him on the couch. “Tell me what you’ve been up to lately.”

“You’re just going to fall asleep again,” Soobin teases, but he sits all the same. The couch is small, and he and Seungkwan end up pressed together from thigh to shoulder. Seungkwan immediately feels himself melting into the comforting warmth.

“I would never!” he tries to protest, but the effect is ruined by another yawn. Soobin snorts out a laugh. “Okay, I might,” Seungkwan acquiesces. “But I still want to hear about how you’ve been.”

Like this, still wrapped in the tail end of his dreams, it’s easy for Seungkwan to rest his head against Soobin’s shoulder; easy to imagine that this isn’t just a stolen pocket of time, but rather where they’re meant to be.

“Actually, it’s kinda funny,” Soobin says. “I’ve been hoping to have a chance to chat— I wanted to tell you about these dreams I keep having.”

bite me

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Any (maybe a Joshua ship?)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

An unexpеcted taste
A cake that only looks beautiful
If you expected sweetness
Baby, I'm sorry

-ICHILLIN', Bite Me

[FILL] sweet tooth

[rainiest]

Ship/Member: Joshua/Mingyu
Major Tags: NSFW (non-explicit sexual content including implied light power dynamics)
Additional Tags: idolverse, implied jeongcheol, what’s a little toxic situationship between bandmates
Permission to remix: Yes

Mingyu watches Joshua watch himself in the bathroom mirror. “I didn’t know you even liked baking,” he comments. “I thought it was just one of those things. For an interview or whatever.”

It was, but the facade somehow followed Joshua all the way home and took up residence in his kitchen cabinets. The whisk pinches the thin skin below his collarbone as he twists and releases, twists and releases. It’s already violently pink and he’s only been at it for a minute.

“Does that even work?” asks Mingyu. He’s sitting upright on the edge of the bed, staring at Joshua’s bare back. Joshua can’t see him but he can tell.

“I saw it on TikTok,” he says. “No one on the internet ever lies.”

Mingyu laughs darkly. He’s standing now, coming closer now. Joshua imagines him resting a hand between his shoulder blades, skin on skin, and his muscles twitch involuntarily. “It’s a wound, right? Tiny burst blood vessels just under the surface.” Mingyu doesn’t touch him. It’s a large bathroom for a central Seoul apartment, but Joshua had managed to fill it with his things just fine after his ex-girlfriend moved out. There’s enough space for Mingyu to stand beside him without their shoulders brushing. “I don’t see how punishing it like that can do anything but make it worse.”

Twist and release. Twist and release. Twist and release. The hickey remains there, dark purple and awful.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says, and he seems to truly mean it. He watches Joshua watch himself in the mirror. “I’ll be more careful.”

Seungkwan once told him that he was kind, but of course he would think so. It was only natural that someone like Seungkwan would find kindness wherever he went in the world. He was simply mistaking Joshua for his own reflection.

It was harder to argue when Jeonghan said it. Not because Jeonghan wasn’t kind but because he was also well-spoken and stubborn and Joshua couldn’t keep up, no matter how much sense the words made in his own head.

“You’re like me,” Mingyu declared, back before they started all of this, as though that had some kind of objective meaning. He was so certain of who he was that sometimes it circled back around into immaturity.

“Maybe we do the same things,” Joshua had replied then, “but they don’t have the same meaning.”

Mingyu didn’t understand. He couldn’t see it. Mingyu was particular because he knew what he liked and saw no reason he shouldn’t have the things he wanted. Joshua was particular because he despised the person he imagined himself to be without it.

“What’s this one?” Mingyu asks him, rotating the scent diffuser on the bookshelf with his fingertips, looking for a label. He’s being careful, like a teenager in an antique shop. “It’s nice.”

“I’ll send you the link,” Joshua says. If Mingyu wants to pretend then he can too—that this is normal, and they’re having a normal conversation, and it’s normal that Mingyu is in his living room completely naked except for the ring on his little finger.

He shouldn’t have asked Mingyu to come over. Until now he’s kept it strictly on tour. It’s easy to leave his hotel room door unlocked and a message on Mingyu’s phone. All he has to do then is wait. Mingyu will be in the doorway before the minute even ticks over, eyes several shades too dark like he’s stepped out of a dim room directly into the sun.

The sex isn’t bad but it is predictable. There’s a pattern to it. Mingyu on his knees, Mingyu on his stomach. Mingyu holding himself back, biting down on his own lips until they’re swollen and blood-red. Joshua is particular about this too, and Mingyu has the particular desire to do as he’s told.

“That’d be great, thanks,” says Mingyu. “I’ve been looking for a good one. Wonwoo-hyung doesn’t like anything that’s too strong.”

He crosses to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He doesn’t seem to notice that Joshua is fully dressed, that he has been since he got up from the bed. Or maybe he notices and just doesn’t care. Maybe all of this really is normal to him.

It’s been a long week. It’s been a long year.

Still, he shouldn’t have asked Mingyu to come over.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he overhears Jeonghan saying as he passes one of the recording studios. The door is wide open—sloppy work on his part. “Don’t look so shocked. Of course I know.” He must be really desperate to have it out with someone if he’s the one starting it.

“It’s nothing that concerns you,” comes Mingyu’s reply, which makes Joshua go cold all over. He’s been dreading it for weeks now, turning arguments over and over in his mind for when Jeonghan inevitably confronts him. He never considered that Jeonghan might go to Mingyu instead, as though he thinks Joshua is the one that needs protecting in this scenario. What a sick joke.

“It does concern me,” Jeonghan replies, perfectly calm. Maybe Jihoon has stepped out. Maybe he hasn’t and is just electing to mind his own business. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Joshua keeps walking. He walks to the end of the hall and gets on the elevator and counts the floors as they tick down. He pulls out his phone as he steps out into the parking garage.

Jeonghan picks up on the third ring. “Oh, Joshuji?” he drawls. He manages to sound convincingly casual, like he’d been in the middle of something other than staging an interrogation on his behalf.

“Are you done recording?” Joshua asks. “Come eat with me.”

A pause. “I’m done,” Jeonghan says, “but I–”

“Then come. Seungcheol wants to have a drink.” Jeonghan isn’t the only one who knows how to play dirty.

Another pause, like Jeonghan is making eye contact with someone. “Okay,” he says finally. “Give me ten minutes. I’m just–”

“I’m leaving now,” Joshua interrupts. “I’m already in the car.” He hasn’t asked Seungcheol yet. He doesn’t even know where he is right now. It’ll be fine; Seungcheol would move mountains to be wherever Jeonghan is.

The sound of paper rustling. Another voice, too far away to make out. A breath exhaled into the phone. “Okay,” Jeonghan says again. “Okay, I’ll come down now.”

After, during the several minutes Joshua allows them to lie there side-by-side with Mingyu’s leg thrown carelessly over his at the calf, Mingyu asks, “Why me?”

He’s hoping to hear something that will make him feel good. Because you’re handsome. Because I trust you. Because you’re kind. He still doesn’t get it. The part where they make each other feel good is over now.

“Because you offered,” Joshua answers. It’s half of the whole truth.

“Ah,” says Mingyu. “I see.” He seems disappointed. Hurt too, but only for a moment. He's always been a fast learner.

The other half of the truth is that Mingyu has known love all his life. It’s in everything he does, radiates from him like heat. There’s nothing in him Joshua could break that Mingyu wouldn’t be able to put back together with his own two hands.

This might be a kind of kindness. Joshua can admit to that much.

lie with you

[(Anonymous)]

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

Prompt:

Oh, my heart lies when I lie with you
Got stars in my eyes, light the sky for you
I know we won't last and you know it too
So baby, while it lasts, let me lie with you

-Ten, Lie With You

what is this feeling??

[moonlitmelodiesfic]

Ship/Member: Any (although can i offer: seokgyu or soonhoon)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: general gelphie shenanigans, perhaps denial of feelings, pranks as a love language, whichever direction you want to take this!
Do Not Wants: NSFW, mcd (in general i feel this should be lighthearted and fun)

Prompt:

What is this feeling--so sudden and new--I felt the moment I laid eyes on you?

-"What Is This Feeling," from Wicked

desire

[kkulecru]

Ship/Member: Any, although i submit minghao or wonwoo for consideration
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

The crawling animals will seek
All things warm all things moist
I will relentlessly shame myself
In rest in wake in front of
My truly born beloved
For here I lie in wait
Hush little heart
Steal my sweating lips
Wield my starving hips
There's a cult, there's a cult inside of me
Form a salt sprinkle it around me

Saltkin, Purity Ring

[FILL] pray on my knees to the protector

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Seokmin
Major Tags: mild blood/gore mention
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, and what if i'm a dog and you're my man
Permission to remix: Yes | also on ao3

***

The transformation period inches closer and closer.

“It’s not like the stories at all,” Wonwoo says over his shoulder, over the lock unlatching. He shifts his overnight bag from one shoulder to the other. “It’s a lot less glamorous than that.”

If only he could track the cycle by something like the full moon. Instead, it’s an aching in his jaws. A steep drop in patience and a sharp rise in hunger. Untamable. Something that has latched itself to his spirit and refuses to let go.

Already, his muscles are sore—anticipation and reflex. His body recognizes the patterns, ones that Seokmin has learned to track with him. The spirit hasn’t craved his blood thus far, accepting the carnality of their relationship as enough of an offering. Wonwoo takes it as a win.

“Are you sure you want to see me shift?”

Wonwoo leads Seokmin into the self-storage building. It’s just a little past sundown, but Wonwoo explains that Seokmin has until midnight to leave.

“Positive,” Seokmin chirps, tote bag swinging loosely in one hand. His overnight bag is lighter. The option to drive home is open for taking. “I’m staying the whole night.”

There’s secrets to share, then secrets to keep. Typically transformation falls under this category. Fear corrupts trust, but Wonwoo knows Seokmin, and Seokmin knows him. Has seen him, dressed only in earth and leaves, mud-soaked and caked in blood, and clothed and fed him.

Even a dog knows its master, and the wolf would know to heel.

Seokmin raises his brows. “So what do you smell?” he asks, mostly teasing.

“Bleach,” Wonwoo lies, holding the next door open. He can smell Seokmin’s fear, too, sour and scratching in his throat. There’s something unidentifiable underneath it. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not.” Something rattles in one of the aisles, and Seokmin scrambles forward, arms around Wonwoo’s waist. “That doesn’t count,” he tacks on after a beat, but doesn’t let go.

Wonwoo touches Seokmin’s hand. His skin is cold. Or maybe his own hand is just too hot. “Liar.”

“I’m not.”

Wonwoo laughs, the sound rougher than normal. A tremor scales up his spine, but he represses the shiver. He turns the corner, and Seokmin yelps.

“Whatever you say.”

Wonwoo winces as the swing door’s hinges squeak. The inside of the unit is a mess. Shreds of clothing from his last transformation litter the floor, and the heavy, earthy scent of death and decay fills the room. Little bits and pieces come back to mind and he winces. The unhoused, unfortunately, don’t make great meals.

Seokmin shrinks back from the entrance. “Okay. Well,” he swallows. “I’m scared now.”

His eyes are on the smear of blood and entrails across the wall. Too much to have been from just the roadkill stowed in the overnight bag. Wonwoo considers his options and lands on the kindest one.

“I don’t hurt people who don’t hurt me.”

Seokmin’s gaze jumps to Wonwoo. He seems to be remembering the tranquilizer in the tote bag he’d been tasked with carrying. One of his hands tap the side and Wonwoo stiffens.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Wonwoo says, sharp. “That you’re safe with me until midnight.” He looks back at the blood smear across the wall and sighs. The hunger pains haven’t started yet, but when he looks at Seokmin, all he can see is the other side.

“I’m only a monster sometimes, Seokmin-ah,” he adds, softer this time. He steps slowly, one foot in front of the other, as if the animal is on the other side of the door. “I’m still a man.”

Still, Seokmin keeps a distance between them, one finger looped around the thin gold chain around his neck. “I know,” he mumbles, letting Wonwoo press his lips to his throat. An act of faith. You can fear something and give it glory.

[rainiest]

Ship/Member: Any but verkwan or wonchan would go crazy
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

“Why is it,” he said, one time, at the subway entrance, “I feel I've known you so many years?”

“Because I like you,” she said, “and I don't want anything from you.”

Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

 

‘They’re a rotten crowd,’ I shouted across the lawn. ‘You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.’

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

[tenderlyache]

Ship/Member: Dino/Any
Major Tags: idolverse
Additional Tags: where does the performance end?
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

"I’ve sculpted my life like a statue made of matter that’s foreign to my being. Having employed my self-awareness in such a purely artistic way, and having become so completely external to myself, I sometimes no longer recognize myself. Who am I behind this unreality? I don’t know. I must be someone

-Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

my thoughts on you

[cheapdates]

Ship/Member: Any, but perhaps wonhan/jeongcheol/minwon/gyuhan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: pain
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Give me 'til twenty-three, I need another year for this
Trying to teach my common sense to not waiver with my confidence
Traded my soul to free my mind, car mix to help me pass the time
Can I go back to being blind?
Asked myself why one too many times
… And I know this
I can't read it right, between the fights
I still need you
And I know this
I fell for your eyes, I just realized
I still need you

- my thoughts on you, the band camino

addicted to consumption

[kkulecru]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: angst? how literal could such an all-consuming love(?) be
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Senoritas, don't follow him
Soon, he will eat your hearts like cereals

Eros and Apollo, Studio Killers

I’m out of my head
Of my heart and my mind
'Cause you can run but you can’t hide
I’m gonna make you mine
...
'Cause I can feel how your flesh now
Is crying out for more

The Wolf, SIAMÉS

can't stop 'til we catch all your ears, though

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Any, but consider: Chan/Any; Hoshi/Any; Woozi/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

All this love I've got to keep to myself
All this effort to make it look effortless

Confront all the pain like a gift under the tree
Oh, please, I can't be who you need me to be
I grind in the sunshine, grind in the rain
So real that I feel fakе
— Fall Out Boy, Flu Game

via Genius: On June 11, 1997, Michael Jordan famously played a game of basketball while ill with food poisoning, which became referred to as his “flu game”.

I didn’t wanna give up, no matter how sick or tired I was.

His team, the Chicago Bulls, won the match 90-88 against Utah Jazz. The game has been described as “one of the most iconic sports contests in history” and a showcase of Jordan’s “mental and physical toughness”.

[FILL] carved out a place in this world for two

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: jeonghan & soonyoung
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: enlistment, genfic, the passage of time, author has not touched math in years
Permission to remix: yes!

***


Soonyoung remembers the minimal amount of time he'd spent studying for Suneung — it feels trivial to remember this now but there's something about a minimum amount time spent on one thing versus a near infinite amount of time spent on another that compels him, in those last days with Jeonghan.

The minimum amount of time he gets to spend with Jeonghan isn't by choice, but there are concessions to be made, always. Time spent together that he needs to enjoy, no matter how scarce.

When he was studying for Suneung, in between long days at the practice room and an endless commute to Maseok, he'd tried to make the most of it too. If this idol thing didn't work out the least he could try was making sure that he didn't have to retake Suneung next year, or worst case only half of it. He'd salvaged a string of 2 and 3s across the board in the end, and by the time the next Suneung rolled around any thought of retaking it was out of his mind: the thing he'd spent a near infinite amount of time on instead of prep books had carved out even more space for itself. Except — when it crept up on him, late at night when he wasn't sleeping, during standby at broadcasting stations, in one company car or another, on the plane to Japan and back, waiting in line to enter the stage. It wasn't that the thought never left him, but it lingered, like an old safety net he wasn't so sure would even work anymore.

*

Minimum time with Jeonghan-hyung means: hooking his chin on his shoulder at the airport before their flight to Germany, tangling hands under the fluffy business class blankets on the plane, sharing a wall between their hotel rooms, making Jeonghan take his stupid little pics for Instagram outside their hotel in Berlin — crying in his arms after the show because the hourglass has almost emptied out.

It's strange to think that he'll be next to leave after Jeonghan, that the end of Jeonghan's time marks the start of Soonyoung's remaining limited time, an endless loop or overlapping circles, maybe. Soonyoung wonders how enlistment will feel — a near infinite amount of time?

*

Minimum time with Jeonghan-hyung, with himself, means: a proportionate opposite amount of love to distribute, expendable to infinity, filling in all the crevices forming as time erodes.

Soonyoung remembers the minimal amount of time he'd spent studying for Suneung, but there was something about inverse functions back then. If limited time produces love, then putting love into the inverse of that function must produce additional time — he's not so sure of the math, but he'll believe in it.

festive season melancholy

[seokmin_liker]

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

Prompt:

But you should know that I died slow,
Running through the halls of your haunted home,
And the toughest part is that we both know
What happened to you, why you're out on your own

- Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call, Bleachers

listen to the whole song if you can. i think the vibe that would work is... basically whatever the opposite of a hallmark romcom is. really lean in to the melancholy of winter. also take "haunted home" however literally you want, although i personally would love the idea of one of the pair being haunted by an ex (either literally or metaphorically)

[FILL]: running through the halls of your haunted home

[thesolemneyed]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Wonwoo, Wonwoo/Jeonghan
Major Tags: MCD ? Previous character death ?
Additional Tags: being haunted by your future boyfriend's ex wife-husband
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Seokmin scuffs his feet into the dent at the bottom of the stairs, hands deep in the pockets of his coat. There is an old tissue rubbing against his knuckles, but he’s already wearing his shoes to prove a point and he doesn’t want to make his way to the kitchen to reach the bin. On the side table, the lamp flickers once, but Seokmin keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead, towards the door.

“Sorry — I’ll just be two minutes.” A floorboard creaks as Wonwoo stumbles out of the bedroom, pausing at the top of the stairs to pull an apologetic face down to Seokmin. “I can’t seem to find my damn glasses.”

“Have you tried the top of your head?” Seokmin is only mostly joking, laughs as Wonwoo pats his hair and frowns. “Bedside table?”

Wonwoo grunts and heads back into the bedroom, a soft cheer trailing down the stairs when Seokmin is evidently proven right. He appears once again, now with two ties in hand. “What do we think? Red to go with the ugly trousers my grandma bought or green to match my socks?”

Pondering, Seokmin tilts his head. They were meant to leave fifteen minutes ago and he has to swallow the irritation on the tip of his tongue. “Red.” He leaves out that Wonwoo’s brother’s girlfriend actually bought him the ugly trousers. And that he bought the green tie that Wonwoo is now discarding on the railing. “Red and green will make you look like a Christmas ornament.”

“Well,” Wonwoo laughs. “’tis the season.” He plants a kiss on Seokmin’s cheek as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, hand firm on Seokmin’s shoulder. “You don’t want to hang me on your tree?”

“I think there’s a good chance your dad actually will if we don’t leave now.” Despite his smile, Seokmin feels every minute drag against him with increasing persistence. “We’re going to be so late.”

Wonwoo only offers a grimace, checking his hair and straightening his tie in the mirror hanging by the front door. Satisfied, he turns to Seokmin again. “You look nice.” He holds out a hand which Seokmin accepts, then tugs until his face is only inches away. “Nervous?”

Seokmin tries not to appear caught off guard, then smiles as softly as he can. “A little,” he lies. “You?”

But Wonwoo just shakes his head. “Why would I be? They’ll love you.” He gives Seokmin’s hand a squeeze. “Come on.”

The chill from outside feels like a smack across the face and Seokmin sucks in a deep breath, double checks that he has his keys as he steps across the threshold. As he turns to pull the door closed, his eyes stray to the divot in the floorboards. He realises that the dirty tissue had fallen out of his pocket and was fluttering there, caught against the bottom step by the icy winter wind.

Frowning, Seokmin slams the door shut behind him.

***

“How have you been?”

It’s been over a decade since Seokmin saw Wonwoo last, but he seems fundamentally the same. His haircut hasn’t changed, his shabby jumper, a little large around the shoulders, glasses with frames too thick to be considered trendy. A beer can is growing condensation on the table in front of him, his book discarded — and Seokmin can’t even be angry that Wonwoo is still the kind of guy who will bring a book to a bar because he’s here and real and looking at him.

Wonwoo’s shoulder jerks noncommittally. “Surviving.” His voice is quiet but carries easily over the rumble of the bar. “Doing my best.” He swallows, gazes at the space just behind Seokmin’s right ear. “You?”

“Surviving.” Seokmin smirks as he says it, but it falls flat in the space between the two of them. “Trucking along.” He sits, unbidden, in the seat across from Wonwoo. He’s too warm in his wool coat so he sheds some layers and spreads them out so no one else can join the table. “Work’s shit.”

Wonwoo glances back at his book for a moment, a degree of longing in his eyes, then seems to resign himself to being disturbed. “What do you do for work?”

“Same as before.” No look of recognition from Wonwoo, so Seokmin continues, “I’m a data analyst. Soulless, but I can work from home and I’ve been given a whole week off to hang out with my family for the holidays.” He grins. “It pays the bills.”

A slow nod. It’s clear that Wonwoo doesn’t have much interest in the world of predicative models or spreadsheets. “What are you doing now?”

Last time he checked, Wonwoo was in the final stages of training to be an inheritance solicitor. But that was five years ago, so maybe he’s had a change of heart since then. “I’m a lawyer.” He takes a swig of his beer, still not meeting Seokmin’s gaze.

“What kind of law?” The chair creaks as Seokmin settles back and crosses his feet at the ankles. He doesn’t know anything further than what he’s gleaned from the assholes he works with, but it won’t hurt him to at least appear interested in Wonwoo’s boring job.

Wonwoo sighs a little. “Family law. Wills and civil disputes and stuff like that.” He sounds like he’s had to explain this at far too many family parties and is more than fed up of it.

Trying his best to look interested, Seokmin nods. He leans forward conspiratorially, hunched over his glass of lukewarm lemonade. “Have you ever had to defend someone who, you know, definitely did it.” Wonwoo looks nonplussed. “Like a wife who for sure killed her husband for the dosh or something.”

The colour drains out of Wonwoo’s face and Seokmin feels his stomach plummet as he realises what he’s said.

“No. I didn’t. I mean.” His straightens his spine, panic thick in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

Wonwoo drains the last of his beer as he stands, setting the can down between them with a clink. His hand is shaking a little and he wrestles his way back into his thick down jacket. “It’s fine.” His voice cuts through Seokmin will a chill. “See you around.”

“Fuck.” Seokmin slouches further into the creaky leather of the chair and groans.

***

Wonwoo:
Thank you for the flowers.
How did you get my address?

Seokmin:
your wedding invites

Wonwoo:
You still have those?

Seokmin:
i throw nothing away

ever
its one of the reasons my ex broke up with me

Silence again on Wonwoo’s end, although Seokmin’s phone tells him his messages have been opened. He swallows, then types,

Seokmin:
i really am sorry
i didnt think
it was very stupid of me

Wonwoo:
It’s okay.

A pause, the bubbles lingering at the bottom of Seokmin’s screen.

Wonwoo:
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before anyway.

Something catches in Seokmin’s throat and he lets out a long slow breath.
Seokmin:
you dont deserve that
i remember from your wedding how perfect you were together. you loved him a lot. he knew that and anyone with any sense would be able to see it.
jeonghan was lucky to have you

More dots at the bottom of the screen. They disappear, then appear, then disappear again. Seokmin senses himself lingering on the edge of a precipice.

Seokmin:
let me buy you a drink to apologise
please
its been too long. i miss you.

He thinks that Wonwoo isn’t even going to open the message when the reply materialises.

Wonwoo:
That’d would be nice. Thank you.
I miss you too.

***

The restaurant is crowded with families full of festive cheer and there is mist on the windows which makes Seokmin shudder. Yelllowish light bathes Wonwoo’s face with a sickly glow, but someone he still manages to look handsome on the other side of the wobbly table. “I thought you said you were buying me a drink?”

“The drink comes with a pizza. Did I not mention that part?” Seokmin grins, tilting his head in a way which Jihoon once described as endearing and then instantly regretted.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but doesn’t get up. “This place isn’t even good,” he says softly, conspiratorially. “If you wanted to ask me for dinner, you should have at least asked for my recommendation first.”

“Not good? What do you mean not good? I used to come here every single week for Free Slice Friday!” Seokmin feels almost personally offended at the small slice of his childhood being besmirched. He wrote about this place in one of his early college essays where he had to describe a favourite memory for a creative writing module he was forced to take. His first kiss was in the alley down by the bins and he broke his wrist one year trying to impress his crush with his skateboarding tricks right outside this very front window.

But Wonwoo doesn’t seem impressed by any of this information. “That was before it was taken over by a chain. No more Free Slice Friday, I’m afraid.” He waits for the waiter to take their orders, then pours himself a glass of water. Over the rim, he says, “Jeonghan made me boycott this place after they announced they were axing that deal.” He holds Seokmin’s gaze steady, the glint of the lamp outside catching on the glaze of his glasses.

“Well, I’m with him. Let’s not pay tonight.” Seokmin keeps his voice low, forces Wonwoo to lean in a little. “It’s been far too long since I’ve dine-and-dash-ed.”
Wonwoo’s laugh is refreshing. “Not a good habit for you to reinstate. Maybe leave that one in your twenties.” Outside, a car sloshes past, spattering what used to be clean, white snow up onto the sidewalk. The sound is almost perverse in the quiet between them.

Another head tilt and Seokmin purses his lips, watches Wonwoo’s eyes flicker down to catch the movement. “It’s probably not my worst habit, if I’m honest.” He takes a sip of red wine, the taste rich and dry on his tongue.

“It’s not?” Wonwoo mimics Seokmin, the drink staining his lip a deep burgundy. “What is, then?”

Seokmin pretends to think, a finger lightly stroking his chin. “Well, I do hog the covers when I sleep.”

“That is pretty awful.” Wonwoo is resting his cheek on one hand now. He looks almost like he’s having a good time. “Unforgivable, I think.”

“That’s not even it. I’m also a chronic procrastinator.”

Wonwoo chokes. “What was that?”

“Pro-cras-tin-a-tor,” Seokmin wheezes. “Don’t get that one confused.”

“Right. My bad.” Wonwoo dabs at his mouth with the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Well, I bite my nails. If that helps.”

Seokmin pulls a face. “It doesn’t, actually. That’s gross. There are more germs under your nails than on a toilet seat.” He vaguely remembers reading that fact in a Christmas cracker once. He glances at Wonwoo’s nails — they seem perfectly manicured, not at all bitten.

“Jeonghan used to say the same thing,” Wonwoo admits. “He hated it.”

“Then I agree with him again.” Seokmin raises his glass in something almost like a toast. “Do you want to know my worst habit?” Wonwoo tips his head in a silent question and Seokmin smiles. “I never know when to give up.”

***

The house is nice, Seokmin thinks. Classy. It’s certainly a step above the one bed apartment in the city that he’s just signed the lease on.

Wonwoo pauses on the top step. “Thank you for driving me home,” he says quietly. “I was wondering if you might like to come in for a coffee.”

Fireworks whiz and pop in Seokmin’s stomach and he has stop himself from punching the air. “If you’re sure,” he says gladly, his hand already on the railing by the front door, crowding easily into Wonwoo’s space. Their breath mingle into mist between them.

“It’s a little messy. I wasn’t expecting company.” The hallway is dark but seems totally acceptable. The moonlight hits the shining wooden floors, gleaming in the white of the night, catches on the edge of a framed photo in the entryway. “I also have some nice whiskey you might like.”

“I won’t be able to drive home if you ply me with drink, Wonwoo.” Seokmin pitches his voice low as he hangs his coat up on a peg behind the door. He slips out of his shoes and feels the gloss of the floor beneath him, slippery on his socks.
Wonwoo just huffs a laugh, doesn’t look at Seokmin in the dim hallway. “I have a spare bed if you need.”

Seokmin just hums.

***

“It’s been a while,” Wonwoo whispers. His glasses were discarded downstairs, his shirt somewhere on the landing. “I haven’t since…” he trails off.

“It’s okay.” Seokmin runs his hands down Wonwoo’s arms, lacing their fingers together. He edges closer, looks up at Wonwoo through his lashes. Their tongues taste like liquor and the cheap rice snacks Wonwoo found in his cupboard. “I don’t mind.”

And he doesn’t.

Wonwoo is unhurried, generous in bed, although Seokmin gets the sense that he is holding out on him somehow. It doesn’t bother him until they are wrapped around each other in the early hours of the morning, Wonwoo snoring gently in Seokmin’s ear.

He sits up, shivering in the chill away from Wonwoo’s body. There are no photographs in this room, but the bedding is a higher thread count than Seokmin would ever bother to splash out on and there are fake flowers in a vase near Wonwoo’s head.

“What time is it?” Wonwoo rolls over, reaching out a hand across the sheets in search of Seokmin’s.

Seokmin looks down at the ring, brazen on Wonwoo’s finger. “Still early,” he mutters. “Go back to sleep.”

***

“Where did you find that jumper?”

Seokmin looks down at himself. He thought the cream complimented the colour of his eyes. “It was in your cupboard,” he says blankly. “Sorry. I thought I’d borrow it. Is that okay?”

“It’s not mine.” Wonwoo sits down at the table, serves himself eggs directly out of the pan. “Please put it back.”

***

Cross posted to ao3 :3

was i really seeking good or just seeking attention?

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: angst, approaching the end of a relationship
Do Not Wants: mcd, non-con

Prompt:

Oh, golden boy, don't act like you were kind
You were mine, but you were awful every time

- Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call, Bleachers

what would make seokmin act mean? is it possible to be so kind and loving that it rolls right back to being horrible? or is it all just interpretation, because whoever seokmin is with is so eager for this relationship to end that they just want to pick a fight?

wicked au where seokmin is fiyero please please please

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Any, Seokmin/Wonwoo/Seungkwan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: none
Do Not Wants: none

Prompt:

Dancing through life down at the Ozdust,
If only 'cause dust is what we come to,
Nothing matters but knowing nothing matters,
It's just life, it's just life, so keep dancing through

- Fiyero, Dancing Through Life, Wicked

seokmin fiyero just works so well! i'll leave it to you who to pick for elphaba and glinda, but i think wonwoo and seungkwan (respectively) work well. if you really don't want to do a straightforward wicked au, anything with that kind of dynamic would make me very happy!

everything is tennis except tennis which is sex

[deadwine]

Ship/Member: Any, (but consider: any of booseoksoon)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: any sports au doesn't have to be challengers (but consider...triangulations...booseoksoon)
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

For about fifteen seconds there, we were actually playing tennis. And we understood each other completely. So did everyone watching. It's like we were in love. Or like we didn't exist. We went somewhere really beautiful together.

-Tashi, Challengers (2024)

we both know forgotten doesn't mean forgiven

[deadwine]

Ship/Member: Minghao, Soonyoung, Wonwoo (Soonhao?)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: exes? siblings? rivals? any sort of fragmented relationship
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Knowin' you're hidin' what no one else sees
Close-lipped smile 'cause there's blood on your teeth (Oh, oh, oh, oh)
What you forget you are gonna repeat
You don't get to make amends like your hand's still clean

-Linkin Park, Stained

[FILL] we both know forgotten doesn't mean forgiven

[m1ntea]

Ship/Member: Minghao/Soonyoung
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Friends to enemies, rivals, betrayal, vague descriptions of a traumatic accident, handwave-y scifi setting to enable a handwave-y sports setting
Permission to remix: Yes

***

The company gala this year is on some executive’s private space station, drifting listlessly in Earth’s orbit. It’s an exorbitant and calculated show of wealth, and Minghao hates it. He doesn’t mind getting dolled up, but he’s an athlete, not a collectible action figurine to be placed in a display case and shown off. Yet here he is, sipping champagne in a ballroom where giant windows show off the blue and green swirls of Earth far below, being a good little employee because his entire future in SkyBike racing hinges on him keeping this damn contract.

People twirl around him, an intoxicating mass of bright dresses and sombre suits, but few stop to talk. Minghao used to spend these events lurking in Soonyoung’s shadow, content to absorb attention by proximity, like the moon reflecting leftover light from the sun. Without Soonyoung’s glow to leech off of tonight, and with the miasma of rumors that surrounds him in its wake, Minghao is a less than attractive conversational prospect. That’s fine by him. He doesn’t need the cloying false sympathy, or the pointed questions about how he’s been healing, or the feigned congratulations on returning for the new season.

Of course, Soonyoung is here tonight too. They are, after all, signed to the same management company. Minghao can see him on the other side of the ballroom, hovering by the refreshment table. His hair is freshly dyed an eye-watering shade of silver blond, and he’s wearing some atrocity in tiger print that he still somehow manages to make look good. He’s surrounded by a crowd of admirers, as always, and his smile glints in the artificial candlelight from the chandeliers.

Everyone knows that the close-lipped smile Minghao uses in press photos is there to cover the blood on his teeth. Where they mess up is by thinking that Soonyoung’s own wolfish grin means he’s any different. Soonyoung’s got the personality and the charisma— he’s the boy next door, your mom’s friend’s son, the kid who greets every auntie in the neighborhood. He wears his emotions on his face and his heart on his sleeve, and in everyone else’s eyes that makes him good. He’s the hero they can cheer for, the poster boy with the charming smile that they can plaster on billboards and holo-screens.

They haven’t seen the way those shiny white teeth can rip someone’s throat out.

Minghao has felt those teeth on his skin, and he still bears the scars. It was his fault for getting too close, for falling for the illusion, for trusting too much. He had to learn the hard way that the reason Soonyoung calls himself a tiger is because he’s a predator, wild and ruthless. Ravenous, willing to devour anything in his path.

It’s been more than a year after their falling out, and reporters still ask about it sometimes in interviews. How could they not, when it had been the most sensational piece of gossip to come out of last season? A mysterious training accident, fast friends who turned into strangers, a fierce rivalry springing from the ashes of camaraderie.

Soonyoung always deflects with a sheepish smile and a non-answer about how there’s nothing to discuss, with the clear implication that there is something to discuss and he’s merely too polite to say it. And because he’s clearly the good guy in this scenario, the words he carefully doesn’t say do all the speaking for him. It’s easy enough for everyone else to fill in the blanks.

When they ask Minghao the same questions, he remains silent. Partially to preserve his dignity, but mostly because it’s none of their business— and even if it was, it’s not like they would believe his side of the story anyway. They already made up their minds about the truth long ago.

Even now, after everything, Minghao is fairly certain that the collision itself was an accident. Soonyoung didn’t mean to crash into Minghao, didn’t mean to total his bike or fracture Minghao’s bones or nearly ruin his entire career. No, the betrayal came after that, when Minghao watched in real time as Soonyoung’s concern turned into relief as he realized that this meant Minghao was out of contention for the Starlight Series Cup. When Soonyoung left Minghao safely tucked away in the med hall and walked away without an ounce of regret.

Minghao curls his hand more tightly around the stem of his champagne glass. His eyes never leave Soonyoung, tracking his every move. The tabloids like to compare Minghao to a snake: silent, cunning, deadly. What no one realizes is that he’s actually an imugi, merely biding his time until the new season begins and he can transform into a dragon.

He’s not Soonyoung, not their golden child, and he never will be. No, he’s going to be better than Soonyoung, and the best part is that no one will see it coming. Not even Soonyoung— especially not Soonyoung.

Across the room, Soonyoung laughs at something someone said. He tips his head back with the force of it, eyes crinkling with mirth. When he catches sight of Minghao watching him, he only falters for a fraction of a second before he turns in Minghao’s direction, sending him a big, toothy smile and an enthusiastic wave. As if he has any right to, as if they’re still friends, as if he’s forgotten that he left Minghao bleeding out on the floor and used his corpse as a stepping stone in the pursuit of his own glory.

Minghao smiles back. Forgotten doesn’t mean forgiven, and if Soonyoung doesn’t know what regret feels like, well, he’ll find out soon enough.

freaky positions

[deadwine]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Minghao, Seokmin/Jihoon, Soonyoung/Junhui, Seokmin/Soonyoung, Seokmin/Minghao, Chan/Any
Major Tags: nsfw
Additional Tags: you don't have to go where the song goes (*cough* breeding kink) but you can?
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I showed my friends, then we high-fived (oh-oh)
Sorry if you feel objectified (oh)
Can't help myself, hormones are high
Give me more than just some butterflies

-Sabrina Carpenter, Juno

[FILL] Re: freaky positions

[kkulecru]

Ship/Member: Chan/Soonyoung, implied Chan/others (?)
Major Tags: nsfw
Additional Tags: ghosts around the outline of the breeding kink elephant in the room
Permission to remix: Yes

***
The night hadn’t started out with this in mind, he was sure of it. Each teasing brush of fingers, coy flicker of eyes, building up little by little. Subtly layered until the air had grown thick enough to bring them here.

The air conditioning had long clicked off inside the room, but the thermostat is an afterthought buried under the fading puff of cologne in his nose, the hot slide of skin against skin after tight pants were peeled off and shed carelessly in one corner.

That was hours ago.

Now his hand is pressing Chan’s back against his chest as he rolls his hips upwards, lazily chasing the newest swell of pleasure through to its completion. A glance over Chan’s shoulder gives him a good view of the half-length mirror on the wardrobe door, just enough of their legs and torsos captured to allow him to appreciate the view and kick the tempo just a little higher. It changes the rhythm of Chan’s moans a little, too, and he presses a wet kiss against the side of his neck.

“Just a little more,” Soonyoung promises, braces further against the headboard to grind harder, deeper.

This time, when he comes it’s with a slow exhale—the growing wave gently breaking against the shore. They both still for six heartbeats, eight, panting together into the silence. And then Chan squirms in his embrace and Soonyoung lets him loose not-quite carelessly, to fall back onto reddened forearms further down on the bed. Red splotches are blooming on patchworked thighs, and his eyes covetously trace over the glistening streaks overlaying them all.

“Ah, hold on Chan,” he says hastily, reaching out to manoeuvre him onto his back. He moves easily enough, only a mumbled complaint underpinning the way he allows Soonyoung to arrange his limbs as he likes; legs parted, hips braced just enough to slip a pillow underneath them and prop his abdomen up in the air. One forearm moves to shield squinted eyes from the ceiling lights as he rests, relaxed under the heat of Soonyoung’s gaze.

The peace is broken by the unmistakable sound of Soonyoung’s camera shutter, sounding out in stuttered bursts.

“Hey.” Chan cranes his head up to glare, already sounding remarkably coherent.

“Sorry,” Soonyoung responds, watching through his phone screen as he gently pats a mostly-dry spot on Chan’s stomach. He can’t resist shifting his hand to press down just a little, lenses drifting downwards to watch a small white globule escape in response. “Just gotta show everyone how well you’ve been filled tonight.”

With enough evidence captured, Soonyoung hums happily as he flops down to one side and opens up a particularly promising shot, already carefully cropping it so that one-and-a-half bruises just peek into frame on Chan’s thighs—ensuring that the cum messily leaking from his hole stays centre of the composition. That gets sent straight to the groupchat alongside a suitably smug emoji, and he hastily closes out of the app when a typing bubble immediately pops up in response.
Message notifications had been muted all day—for good reason—and he hastily tosses his phone aside before he gets too engrossed in riling the others up even more.

Next to him, Chan wriggles off the pillow and carelessly kicks it back towards the top of the bed, newly dampened with an abstract imprint of bodily fluids. Now he can more comfortably press the lines of their bodies together, one arm gingerly thrown over Soonyoung—just enough space left between their torsos for air to sluggishly move between them.

“Think you’ll be up for another round, lying down?” Chan asks, canting his hips in suggestion against Soonyoung’s for just a moment. Even in his exhaustion, Soonyoung feels his dick give a pavlovian twitch of interest.

“...Nap first,” he bargains, more for the sake of his flagging energy levels than anything else. The heat seems to only be making Chan more insatiable.

---

Sorry that this is my first fill, Chan/Any + Juno looped ten times held me hostage.

You Cross the Line

[halotolerant]

Ship/Member: Minghao/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: first times, something-to-lovers, 'crossing the line' and what that leads to
Do Not Wants: supernatural,

Prompt:

In the night
I spill the light
You cross the line
I want you

THE 8 ‘Orbit (轨道) (feat. JinJiBeWater_隼)

I don't find it irritating

[halotolerant]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: being in a band with the most effective winner cheater of all time, love
Do Not Wants: I know the song is 'actually' about drugs but not addiction please, how about the lyrics at face value?

Prompt:

You get under my skin
I don't find it irritating
You always play to win
But I won't need rehabilitating

I think I'm on another world with you
With you
I'm on another planet with you
With you

The Only Ones, 'Another Girl, Another Planet'

the end of the world as we know it

[svteen]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic vibes? sf of any kind? zombies and aliens and robot uprisings, oh my
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I just woke up from a dream
Where you and I had to say goodbye
And I don't know what it all means
But since I survived, I realized [...]

If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you

- Lady Gaga, Bruno Mars - Die with a Smile

(please take this extremely literally)

once you turn they hate us

[svteen]

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

Prompt:

Your words up on the wall as you're praying for my fall
And the laughter in the halls and the names that I've been called
I stack it in my mind, and I'm waiting for the time
When I show you what it's like to be words spit in a mic

- Imagine Dragons, JID - Enemy

don't you know who i think i am?

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: morality complex/corruption arc
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Another knife in my hands, a stain that never comes off the sheets
Clean me off, I'm so dirty, babe
The kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes
I keep a book of the names and those
— I Never Told You What I Did for a Living, MCR

"When I’m fighting, the whole world goes away and I only know one thing. that I’m gonna win and they’re gonna lose. I like that feeling."
— Faith Lehane, BtVS

[FILL] don't you know who i think i am?

[kkulecru]

Ship/Member: Minghao, Vernon, others mentioned
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: the wisp of a corruption arc from afar, network fishery-esque setting ((aka Network Love members have a store that handles fish and people))
Permission to remix: Yes

***
i started out writing this in a very different direction and then i got a postype notification and my brain got hijacked. please forgive me

---

Fish were small. Familiar. Easy to clean. But sometimes he plunged his hands into the cool water of the basin and couldn’t quite remember where the eddies of red had come from, this time; was the metal on his tongue from a fresh arterial spray, or the rising gorge of an old, old memory?

But eventually it recedes, and he nags Hansol to remember to scrub underneath his fingernails, too, keen to instill the habit of using a bristled scrub brush early. It just wouldn’t be right to let him get used to the sight of thin lines of red crusting underneath his nails, against the base of his skin, even if it were just from the persistent guts of one too many fish.
Should always be, if the world was fair.

*

The first time he killed, he had no choice. And the next, and so many that followed thereafter, even if he had been the one to choose to keep Junhui’s back pressed against his every time. His only port of safety in the merciless Shanghai streets they had been dragged to.

(That very first time, he had cried and cried and not even the beating it had earned him had stemmed his tears. The pure tears of a child, ceaselessly pouring out as if they were sufficient to wash off the splatters of red still clinging to the creases of his palms, the side of his face.

In the end, he merely drained himself of all his tears with nothing else to show for it.

The next time they dragged him out, he didn’t cry at all, even when they pointed him towards a child smaller than him.

It took him until meeting Junhui to stop throwing up after the deed was done, though.)

*

Whenever they asked him, in private, Joshua always maintained that he had only kept Hansol around because he needed someone to speak English to—for the sake of his sanity.

Accordingly, with him in the shop they made sure to keep their jokes in Korean about benign fish, maintaining that the basement was off-limits to untrained hands, toned down on the pace of their extra activities until the four of them had fallen into enough of a routine together to begin to relax.

Perhaps a little too much—was Minghao’s thought, when he first caught sight of the smaller tail following him one night, watching him clean up after himself.

The process of getting blood out of his work clothes was all the same no matter the source, but with his watcher in mind he was more diligent about pulling on latex gloves to apply peroxide to the stains, letting it soak.

The least he could do was demonstrate the correct way to do things, if he would be sneaking out either way.

*

The first time Hansol really comes to him for help, he’s got a half-dried smear of blood on one side of his face, flecks of it still determinedly clinging beneath his fingernails.

Minghao gently scrubs the underside of each nail clean and lets Hansol tell him about the boy he had rescued in the alley, who looked to be the same age as him. He lightly probes into how he’s feeling, after such a violent experience, only to have Hansol blink at him and say he felt good.

He was glad to have protected the boy—he’d do it again.

(Hansol explains that he had only knocked the thugs out after sneaking up on them, before pulling the boy after him as they made their escape.

Minghao thinks about sharp rocks and head wounds, and will finish what Hansol started.)

*

Joshua is the most opposed to his proposition, when he brings it up, but in the end even he agrees it’s better for Hansol to be supervised where they can see him—learn the right way of doing things from them—rather than getting into more trouble on his own.

Even so, Joshua never speaks plainly around Hansol—always using euphemisms to allude to the nature of the work. In Korean, at least; Minghao isn’t sure if he ever addresses any of it when he talks with Hansol in English.

*

One night, Boo Seungkwan sneaks around the back of a storefront, and sees something he was never supposed to. The boy he remembers as Vernon hears his gasp and turns around with adrenaline thudding through his veins and blood on his face and tells him not to worry—he already killed him.

ex-friends to the end, better off as lovers

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Any, but consider Joshua or Minghao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: ambiguous relationships, idolverse or celebrity-adjacent, the one you got away from or the one that got away?
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

You searched the world for somethin' else
To make you feel like what we had
And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad
— Wonderland, Taylor Swift

Rolling Stone: How do you feel about the way that friendship [Taylor Swift and Dianna Agron] was covered in the media? You two were shipped.

Dianna Agron: Shipped?

RS: You two were made out by the media and some fans to be in a relationship.

DA: That is so interesting. I... I mean, there have been many stories about my dating life that are so wildly untrue. That's funny.

[FILL] my favourite what if, my best i'll never know

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Minghao
Major Tags: sex references
Additional Tags: ambiguous relationship, post-disbandment, celebrities, complicated feelings with a dash of professional resentment
Permission to remix: please ask

***

Don’t watch the interview today.

It’s a stupid message, really. Seokmin knows that Seungkwan knows that Seokmin doesn’t have a show tomorrow, and that his plans for tonight involve lounging in front of the TV and a bottle of red wine, and that he’s nothing if not a little desperate.

So he ignores it, like he ignores a lot of messages these days. He sprawls out on the couch, swigging wine straight from the bottle. He watches as Minghao nods along with whatever this interviewer is saying. He notices the crisp lines of his bejewelled blazer, the way his hands rest on his knee, one leg crossed over the other, long fingers interlocking. The way he sits in interviews hasn’t changed, despite all these years—the only thing that’s changed is that Seokmin is no longer next to him.

“So, you took a pretty long hiatus after Seventeen split. What did you do with that time?”

Minghao hums. “I suppose I just took some time out, figured out what I wanted to do with myself. I’d trained for so long and then spent so much time as a performer that I needed the break to decide what I wanted my future to look like. Obviously, I decided on music in the end, but there was a period where I considered just being a full-time dancer, or even heading back to China and focusing my career there.”

Seokmin scoffs, even though nobody can hear it. What Minghao actually did during his hiatus was push Seokmin onto a bed and thrust into him frantically, or look up with big gleaming eyes as Seokmin put hands on his soft skin, or wrap his arms around Seokmin’s waist while insisting that would be the last time.

Of course, one time it actually was the last time. When Minghao finally got his shit together and decided he wanted a solo music career, he told Seokmin that it was finally time to put everything to an end. Seokmin wanted to point out that it didn’t make sense, that just because Minghao wanted a solo career that didn’t mean they had to stop seeing each other, that Minghao couldn’t replace what they had with a life of album promotions and interviews. But he didn’t. He let Minghao go. He wished him luck as Minghao’s fingertips seared the thin skin at his neck.

That’s why things turned out this way, after all—Minghao making it to TV interviews with major channels, Seokmin making his way through a whole bottle of wine on a weeknight.

“The split itself came as something of a shock,” says the interviewer. “It seemed like you guys were at the peak of your careers and your creative powers, so I think fans and media were pretty stunned when you decided to break up. Is it something you’re able to talk about now?”

Seokmin swears he sees Minghao’s fingers tighten for a microsecond, just on the edge of the frame. He can see his jaw set firmer, the strange energy that vibrates from his shoulders. It thrills him a little, seeing a part of Minghao’s crystal composure shatter. It thrills him, knowing that he’s probably the only one that’s noticed.

Minghao eventually replies, “Yes, I suppose so. It’s been long enough now that we can start being more open about it.”

Seokmin only realises he’s smiling at the TV when he moves to take another sip of wine. Maybe it’s mean of him, but he can’t bring himself to care much. When they were together, Seokmin was always the one who was better with awkward questions. He knew how to deflect, to lighten the mood with a silly joke. He was the one who could do the warm smile, the one who could always make the interviewer feel like they were on the same team. It makes something flicker in his core, knowing that even if Minghao’s the one on the fancy chair, there are some things he still can’t manage, some instances where he would be better off with Seokmin.

“And besides,” Minghao continues, “it’s not like we don’t talk to each other. We’re still friends, above everything else. We can talk about these things.”

Seokmin doesn’t even have to look at his phone to know that the last time he texted Minghao was five months ago. An easy lie. Maybe Minghao has spoken to the others more.

“Right, that’s good to hear,” the interviewer responds. “It’s actually interesting, because there was a lot of speculation about the group dynamic. With you specifically, there was a lot of intrigue surrounding your bond with your bandmate Dokyeom. Do you have any thoughts about how that relationship was scrutinised?”

Oh. Seokmin feels his bones grow heavy, weighing him down, pressing him further into the give of the couch. He can’t even bring himself to swig some more wine.

Minghao chuckles politely, the sound thin and reedy. Seokmin doesn’t see his fingers tighten.

“It’s funny,” he says, “the amount of people who think they know everything. Just because we smile and wave and put ourselves in front of a camera. Dokyeom and I are people too, you know, not just a pretty picture for a tabloid. I don’t really like being gossip fodder, and I don’t think he does either. All I’ll say is… you can see whatever you want when you look at us, but that doesn’t make it real.”

Seokmin can’t do it anymore. He switches off the TV, lets the silence crackle in his ears. The lump of shame and self-disgust in his stomach grows larger and larger.

Because the thing is, Minghao’s wrong. If the fans or the media or anyone were seeing… anything between him and Seokmin, they were only seeing what was plainly in front of them. Minghao was always the one who was more scared of the prying eyes. He even asked Seokmin to tone it down a few times. But that wasn’t possible. Seokmin may be a good actor, but he couldn’t pretend. There are photos out there of him looking at Minghao like the world revolves around him, with sugar and honey and pure molten want dripping from his gaze. There are interviews and videos of him talking about Minghao, mouth filling with candied praises. There are the casual touches on camera that only happen more often over the years. All of these are the scraps that Seokmin has carelessly thrown to the vultures, and they’re still circling, even though Seokmin hasn’t touched Minghao in forever. Even now that Minghao’s on his own, now that Seokmin is practically a nobody, people still swarm, casting their ravenous eyes over them, gluttonous in their quest for more information, more feeling, more anything.

And now Minghao says it wasn’t real. But the opposite is true, and of course that’s the problem. If Seokmin had been more careful, if he had kept all his emotion inside his heart instead of spilling onto his sleeve, maybe he would still be with Seventeen today. Maybe he would be with Minghao today. But no. Minghao is happy and alone, Seokmin is empty and lonely, and the vultures are still swirling, still hungry.

Seokmin brings the bottle of wine to his lips, only to find it empty. God. Maybe Seungkwan was right all along.

i'd rather go blind than let you down

[cheapdates]

Ship/Member: Any + submitting for your consideration jeongcheol, gyuhan, minwon, wonhan, seokgyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: us against the world
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I cocoon
'Round your shoulders
When you're half-cut
And you're frozen
And you've got that visible breathing
You're depending on me again

I remember when we
Swapped names and I thought maybe
You'd stay and try and out-drink me
Your friends all hated it

//

And if you wanna shut down and pose as positive and
Hide smoking from relatives and
Rest on me
Honey, that's alright
And if you wanna act more drunk than usual
To help you get away with more then
Rest on me
Honey, that's alright
Honey, that's alright

- cocoon, catfish & the bottlemen

[FILL] liquid sunshine, moonlight vapor

[gyucassu]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Wonwoo
Major Tags: toxic situationship, tw: mentions of abuse, underage drinking, tw: mentions of physical violence, tw: implied homophobia
Additional Tags: us against the world, kinda unrequited love, ambiguous ending, idk man this kinda fucked me up and made me sad HAHAHAHA
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Wonwoo doesn’t know how to love him yet.

Mingyu gets it. He swears he does; that this – what he feels for Wonwoo – isn’t just bred from naivete and baseless infatuation. Mingyu understands, at least in his twenty-year-old mind, what it means to love someone fully and unconditionally.

*

And yes, maybe how they met was problematic, in a sense that underage drinking is a societal problem and also a standard rite of passage to feel like they belong somewhere. Mingyu didn’t really have that problem, you see. He is, as Seokmin calls it, liquid sunshine. Anywhere he’s been, he can settle into the nooks and crannies and fill what isn’t there, make it whole. It’s why he was invited to that party that night as the new kid on the soccer team. It’s why he showed up and immediately had a beer in his hand and a pre-lit cigarette stained with Lisa’s pink lipstick that he declined almost instantly.

And somehow, in the midst of the chaos of basement parties and jocks, Mingyu found him.

The boy, standing in the corner, with his back flat against the wall, illuminated by a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips while he stares blankly out the window.

“Hi,” Mingyu said breathlessly.

Wonwoo blinks and turns to look at him. “Hi,” he replied unsurely. Mingyu didn’t understand at the time that Wonwoo’s walls were always going to be there for him to climb. For him to scale and get over, only to be met with more. For him to try and destroy, only for Wonwoo to rebuild higher and stronger than before.

“Hyung, we gotta go,” a voice said, interrupting what Mingyu could only perceive as a ‘moment’ between them. Wonwoo sighed and put out the cigarette with the toe of his boot.

“Wait!” Mingyu yelped, reaching to grab Wonwoo’s leather jacket.

Wonwoo stared down at Mingyu’s fingers clasping his sleeve. He looked back up at Mingyu, squinting in the dark behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Mingyu noticed his ears flush red.

God, he’s cute, Mingyu thought. He will continue to think this several times, how red suits Wonwoo when his cheeks are warm in the cold, or when Wonwoo’s lips swell from Mingyu’s mouth. God, Mingyu loves when Wonwoo is red cause of him.

Mingyu loves when Wonwoo is anything.

“Have a drink with me, uhm…?” When Wonwoo waited for Mingyu to finish his sentence, Mingyu chuckled off the awkwardness. “Your name. Sorry. I’m Mingyu.”

“Wonwoo.” He paused for a moment, before turning to look at his friend who was shooting daggers at Mingyu with his narrowed gaze. “Channie, I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll catch another ride home.”

The other kid – Chan, Mingyu eventually learned – shook his head. “Are you sure? You know Jihoon’s going to be pissed.”

Wonwoo grinned wryly. “I’ve been through worse.”

For some reason, that doesn’t make Chan walk away. Mingyu eventually learns why. Instead, Chan pulls Wonwoo’s wrist. “Hyung. We’re leaving.”

Wonwoo turned to look at Mingyu apologetically, before looking at the beer in Mingyu’s hand. Wonwoo’s fingers brushed against Mingyu’s when he took the drink and downed the beer in seconds, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and slipping the cup back between Mingyu’s palms. He grinned slightly. “Guess I owe you one,” he said, voice rough and deep. It tickled the back of Mingyu’s spine, the shiver quickly traveling all the way up to the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Guess you do,” Mingyu repeated, a faint smile on his lips. Wonwoo nods.

“Bye, Mingyu.”

*

Seokmin doesn’t hesitate to tell Mingyu he’s a bit of an idiot.

That falling in love that quick isn’t real, that it’s just hormones or pheromones or whatever new term Seokmin learned in his psychology class that week.

Mingyu brushes him off.

He knows how he feels. He knows this kind of love isn’t going to come around twice.

*

They first kiss in a dark alleyway near the bus stop.

(Later on, when Wonwoo’s having a bad day, he’ll attribute the feelings of electricity between them as the thrill of getting caught or the novelty of being each other’s first kiss with a man. Mingyu knows Wonwoo’s just hurting. He doesn’t mean it. Not really.)

Despite the nearly freezing temperatures, Wonwoo’s lips feel like fire. His hands, calloused and big, flatten against Mingyu’s back to press him closer. Mingyu wraps his varsity jacket around them like a cocoon, pressing his forehead against Wonwoo’s.

His kisses always taste salty.

*

Chan doesn’t tell him much. But Mingyu can see it in his eyes – the disapproval. The skepticism.

All he says is, “If you love Wonwoo as much as you say you do, give him space. Give him time.”

Mingyu replies, voice calm despite the horrendous pounding of his heart in his ears, “For Wonwoo-hyung, I have all the time in the world.”

*

The first time he sees the cracks in Wonwoo’s facade, it takes everything in Mingyu not to break down into frantic tears.

Mingyu’s hands shake when his fingers trace the blooming bruise on Wonwoo’s jaw. Hues of dark purple and blue ruin Wonwoo’s porcelain white skin. Wonwoo tries to push him away, hissing when his shoulder makes contact with Mingyu’s chest, his lower lip splitting open again when he grimaces.

Mingyu wants to scream. He wants to beg. Tell me who did it, love, please, and I’ll make sure they never see the light of day again. Tell me who did it and I’ll make sure all your days are sunny from here on out.

Tell me, so you can learn how to love me.

“Go home, Mingyu,” Wonwoo threatens again, his voice trembling. “Go home, or I’ll never fucking see you again. I fucking swear to God, Kim Mingyu, if you don’t leave, I will kill you myself –”

Mingyu lets Wonwoo’s fists pound his chest. It doesn’t hurt. It never hurts when it’s Wonwoo.

“Just – fucking – go –”

Wonwoo’s wretched sobs echo into the night.

Mingyu comes home and tosses his shirt, stained with blood and tears, into the hamper.

*

“This is my,” Wonwoo clears his throat, “friend. Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu knows Wonwoo’s parents don’t believe him. Why would Wonwoo invite a friend over for Chuseok anyway?

The dinner is filled with fake pleasantries and surface-level conversation. Mingyu walks into Wonwoo’s home, a house of mirrors, each reflection seemingly more distorted than the last. Yet somehow, with every turn, Wonwoo’s reflection becomes clearer and clearer in his mind.

Mingyu didn’t think his heart was capable of expanding any more for Wonwoo, but it does.

Wonwoo’s pinky finds Mingyu’s when they sit next to each other on the floor.

When Mingyu excuses himself to smoke a cigarette he doesn’t touch, Wonwoo follows him. Mingyu holds Wonwoo’s cigarette in the dark so Wonwoo doesn’t reek, and he allows himself ghosts of touches against Wonwoo’s lips when Wonwoo takes a drag and exhales the bullshit into the dark.

They sneak off to buy bottles of soju from the convenience store.

Wonwoo drinks more than he’s supposed to.

When Wonwoo’s lips slide over Mingyu’s cock, hours later, Mingyu thinks he did it on purpose.

Mingyu takes whatever he’ll get from Wonwoo.

*

Mingyu has bad days, too.

Mingyu has days when he thinks that Wonwoo is just that – smoke and mirrors. A beautiful face covering the cruelty underneath.

What if Mingyu belonged everywhere, except with Wonwoo?

*

He gets his answer when Wonwoo sneaks through his bedroom window.

Mingyu watches Wonwoo peel off his shirt. The moon kisses the fading scars on Wonwoo’s back, and the shadows caress Wonwoo’s cheeks as he moves to climb on top of Mingyu.

Wonwoo – so beautiful, even with tears flowing down his cheeks, even when his cold fingers make Mingyu shiver when they cup his face.

Mingyu brushes back Wonwoo’s hair, careful to avoid the new cut on his eyebrow.

“Wait for me,” Wonwoo murmurs against his lips. “Please. Don’t go.”

“I won’t let you down.” Mingyu kisses the promise to Wonwoo’s lips, down his neck, and along every scar on his back.

He cocoons around Wonwoo in the dark.

*

When he wakes up, Wonwoo is gone.

Mingyu gets it. He swears he does, he thinks as he thickly swallows the lump in his throat.

Where else does he belong, if not with Wonwoo?