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Round 2: Alternate Universes
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Status: Closed
Seventeen Holidays
About
Sometimes its the characters that move us, but sometimes we fall in love with the the world behind the story. Something transformative occurs when we place the characters we love in an unfamiliar world, like the light has shone on a new side and we're seeing them anew. Run to the classics; revisit the magic of Harry Potter, the heart-punch of a Pacific Rim drift, the warmth of a Coffee Shop AU. Or maybe dig your fingers into a story that blew your mind - Battle Royale, The Raven Cycle, Interstellar - or demand better from a book that let you down (The Poppy War fin- mmph). Perhaps! You might combine two of your fandoms for maximum joy (Haikyuu and Tennis adjacent mutuals, I'm looking at you.) The possibilities are literally endless. Do it for the aesthetic, do it for the drama. Examples
Wonhui x MDZS/Untamed
Wonwoo as Lan Wanji, Jun as Wei Wuxian (Minghao as Jiang Cheng?). I want a cast that feels betrayed and shocked at Junhui's demise but then gradually learning his reasons behind it.
Mingyu/Seungkwan Debating AU
Imagine them as third speakers in the high school circuit. Rivals! Mortal Enemies! Prepared case summaries derailing into personal attacks, and then when their coach calls them out on it they become passive aggressive e.g. "there are major flaws in the opposition's arguments..."
Jeonghan as Mal from Inception
Any Jeonghan ship will do. I just want him to chaotically haunt a person while being sexy about it.
Rules
How it works
Prompting
Filling
Filling with art/media
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 ABOUT  DATES  FAQ  BAIT LIST |
[FILL] four in some velvet morning
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Rule 63 - Always a Different Sex, AU - Spies, they're lesbians harold, op loves killing eve
Permission to remix: No
***
Minghao’s back is turned to the stage when polite applause follows the announcement of a performance by Diana Kim, fixed on the target fifteen feet away. She has no chance at parting the crowd around Choi Seungcheol and it’s not tonight’s objective either; it’s simple reconnaissance. There’s a breathless hello as the band starts up, a jazzy number kicking off after a whispered refrain. It paints the room gold in joy, Diana starts singing, and Minghao’s blood moves through her body like slush through a garden hose in winter. She spins on her heel—Junhui’s amused snort in her ear—and that’s all the confirmation she needs.
The last time Minghao had seen Seokmin, she’d picked out a bullet from Minghao’s arm with surgical precision, tongue out between her lips, and stitched Minghao up. The pain had knocked Minghao out and she’d woken up in an empty safehouse, with only the lingering scent of Seokmin’s perfume as a reminder Seokmin was by her side and not some bloodied, haggard shade picked from her memory. That had been six months ago.
It’s not like Seokmin disappeared off the face of the earth; Minghao would wake up to presents occasionally. A bottle of Baccarat Rouge 540 on the doorstep of her loft alongside a postcard from Paris, signed with the bright stamp of a lipsticked kiss. An antique diamond necklace from some countess' collection, and a headline the following day. Once, an original Monet that Minghao does not want to know the story behind.
(It hangs over her bed.)
This, Seokmin on stage, feels like one of those gifts: presented carefully with the edge of a threat, a razor embedded into the tube of her lipstick. Seokmin looks stunning, her dress a brilliant azure that puts the Santorini sky to shame, off the shoulder and flowing over her figure like a sheet of water, a high slit up her right leg. Minghao has heard her sing twice—both times in the shower—but this is incomparable, her voice clear as crystal, a siren’s song, encouraging heartbreak to follow.
“Recon’s over for the night huh?” Junhui chips in Minghao’s earpiece. “Stay safe.”
Minghao can’t even snap back at Junhui to defend herself because he’s right.
Seokmin doesn’t meet her eyes through the set—three songs—and Minghao is left wondering how much of it is genuine and how much of it is a game. Seokmin holds the last high note, the crowd erupts into genuine applause, and meets Minghao’s eyes with a smirk, satisfaction dripping from her ruby red lips.
Here is what Minghao has learnt about Seokmin: you must allow her to come to you. Press too hard, too fast and she draws into herself, holding you at a polite distance with all the frigidity of a tundra between you, if you’re lucky. If you’re unlucky, Seokmin’s bite is harsher than her bark, a knife slipped between your third and fourth rib with a brilliant smile.
Minghao withdraws to one of the open balconies, patient as Seokmin weaves through the crowd—her dress is apparently backless—drawing even the attention of Seungcheol himself. It’s still reconnaissance if she’s watching Seokmin easily drawing a gummy smile from Seungcheol, the way he trips over himself to assure her, his flickering gaze between her hand on his arm and her tongue over her lips as she speaks animatedly. Minghao doesn’t miss the disappointment when he asks her something and she replies, probably turning down an invitation to spend the night with him.
When Seokmin finally comes to Minghao, she takes a moment to inhale the scent that follows Seokmin: sage and sea salt.
“My love,” Seokmin smiles, stepping into Minghao’s space, reaching out. Minghao pulls her in—the moon reflecting the light of the sun—threading the fingers of her left hand with Seokmin’s right, her right going to the small of Seokmin’s back.
Seokmin giggles, and all of Minghao’s training goes out of the door, any pretense at neuroticism shattered like a hammer to glass. “May I have this dance?” Minghao asks.
“And if I say no?” Seokmin whispers.
“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve denied me,” Minghao shoots back. Seokmin laughs, throwing her hand back with it and Minghao wants to drag her mouth along the line of her neck, map her body like a cartographer consumed by the discovery of a new continent.
It’s almost picturesque; Minghao with a beautiful woman in her arms, dancing to the strains of an orchestra as the sun dips below the horizon. It’s almost close to love, too; Minghao and Seokmin drift apart and come back together and drift apart and come back together, it is almost bedrock in it’s certainty.
“You look good, your haircut is nice,” Seokmin compliments, the hand on her shoulder moving to the nape of Minghao’s neck. Her touch feels like a live wire against bare skin. “I haven’t seen your ears in so long, it’s cute.”
Minghao wills herself not to blush but her body is always traitorous in the presence of Seokmin, ears burning. Seokmin’s smile turns into something softer, tracing the shell of Minghao’s ear. The Seokmin you see is the Seokmin you get—gentle, charismatic, the black hole at the center of the universe everyone hurtles towards—it’s the Seokmin you don’t see that you should be worried about. It’s Seokmin leg around Minghao’s hip as Minghao dips her at the crescendo of the song, miles of tan skin, the coy smile she shoots Minghao when her hands stray too high and finds the edge of a holster strapped around Seokmin’s thigh.
The tension between them is so thick it’s in their lungs, a tangible weight like disembarking a plane in Singapore, the first drag of air into your lungs after hours of recycled, climate-controlled air. Minghao’s hand goes higher, hiking up Seokmin’s dress with it, fingers skating over the cool blade, Seokmin’s eyes boring into hers.
When they kiss, it’s like the rebound of an elastic band; two people stretched too thin with want they snap back together. Seokmin’s mouth on her is desperate as Minghao rights them both, crowding Minghao against the balustrade, hands already under Minghao’s suit jacket, too impatient to bother with unbuttoning it. Minghao pulls away and Seokmin follows, the lowest whine under her breath.
“Not here,” Minghao says firmly, tugging Seokmin’s hands away.
They manage to weave through the crowd, pausing only for Seokmin to throw a flirtatious wink over her shoulder when Seungcheol catches sight of her ruined lipstick and rumpled dress. He looks heartbroken, and Minghao is probably too smug as they trip over each other in their haste to get to Minghao’s hotel room.
The night passes in a blur, against the cool surface of a mirror, against the down of the bed, time slowing down to molasses and Seokmin’s cry of Minghao’s name.
When Minghao wakes it is slow, gradual, dreams dissolving like cotton candy on the tip of her tongue; only to flinch into awareness when her fingers glide along a blade rather than a body. Minghao sits up, sheets pooling around her waist, Seokmin’s side of the bed still warm.
Let it be said that Seokmin is generous, leaving behind gifts for Minghao. Seokmin’s lipstick is smeared across the mirror— from where Minghao had pinned her against it and kissed her neck—a deep burgundy. Seokmin’s perfume lingers over the sheets like they’ve been laundered in it—and Seokmin can be petty enough to spray her perfume over Minghao’s sheets—sage and sea salt. Seokmin’s dagger—one of them at least, is in place of her body in Minghao’s bed—excessively ornate.
Minghao has shown her hand. It's Seokmin's move again, Minghao waiting for an answer.
Re: [FILL] four in some velvet morning
Re: [FILL] four in some velvet morning
Re: [FILL] four in some velvet morning
this entire block-
This, Seokmin on stage, feels like one of those gifts: presented carefully with the edge of a threat, a razor embedded into the tube of her lipstick. Seokmin looks stunning, her dress a brilliant azure that puts the Santorini sky to shame, off the shoulder and flowing over her figure like a sheet of water, a high slit up her right leg. Minghao has heard her sing twice—both times in the shower—but this is incomparable, her voice clear as crystal, a siren’s song, encouraging heartbreak to follow.
- it makes me feel insane I wish i could articulate better about why your expensive, intimidating lesbians are bonking me so hard but this is all I have right now. thank you feeding me, this is incredible!
Re: [FILL] four in some velvet morning
i don’t think ive ever told u how much i love ur writing, im so glad i found u (and as fellow cutie gathering im extra thank u for driving me insane on the tl) <3 it makes me feel very feral in the best way bc u always write things so tenderly and full of bright sharp things.
particularly lines i enjoyed:
- with only the lingering scent of Seokmin’s perfume as a reminder Seokmin was by her side and not some bloodied, haggard shade picked from her memory.
????!?!?!?!??!!??!!!!!! the imagery is insane how do u come up with these...
- Minghao has heard her sing twice—both times in the shower i found this so brilliant . to build a relationship with so few words ... rly gave me insight as to who seokmin is (might’ve been / could be) to minghao, the intimacy of it all...
- not to be Me but seungcheol being jipped by seokmin again!!! thats the homecoming perseokhao teas It’s almost close to love, too; Minghao and Seokmin drift apart and come back together and drift apart and come back together, it is almost bedrock in it’s certainty. DEVOTION AND MARRIAGE do u know how beautiful and incredibly sexy ur venn diagram is to me. i actually . ascended and saw god for a moment it was defined so clearly and At Last I See the Light. the idea that it will always be seokmin and minghao makes me T_____T theres nothing more tender than knowing with surety that someone is the right person for u, and that every time, they will choose u (and u, them).
- The Seokmin you see is the Seokmin you get—gentle, charismatic, the black hole at the center of the universe everyone hurtles towards—it’s the Seokmin you don’t see that you should be worried about YEAH LET SEOKMIN BE SEXY 2K21!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!
god this fill was delicious in every sense of the word it felt both dangerous and tender and reminded me of red roses . i think the world of ur seokmin and im so glad u decided to take the bait that i dangled in front of u . i got u right back :))) thank u for sharing!