2022 Round 3: Last Words

[hwarium]

Status: Closed This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted. ✧ Seventeen Holidays ✧ Round 3: Last Words About For this round, there is no theme for the prompt and you can suggest whatever you want. However! You can only prompt a single sentence and the fill must end on that sentence. Be controversial, be vague. Fillers, add to the atmosphere or subvert expectations, the choice is yours. (Note: art fills just have to include the phrase and remixes don't have to follow the rule.) Examples Joshua "Did you think America would change things?" Soonyoung/Seokmin Seokmin looks at Soonyoung one more time, "I may not trust you with my wallet, but I do trust you with my life." 97 line In the dark they grasped each other, fingers intertwined, and stepped forwards. 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 to something interesting; Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment and edit the sections. Feel free to add as much detail as you want! <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> [PROMPT GOES HERE] Filling Reply to the original prompt; Change the subject to [FILL], you may add a title or stay chaotic; 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! Need ideas? Have a look through the 2021 Fills Masterlist and the prompts there. You're welcome to keep interacting with, fill, or remix content from the previous rounds. Navigation ABOUT DATES FAQ BAITS ✧ FILLS ✧ ROUND 1: QUOTES ROUND 2: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES ❮ ROUND 3: LAST WORDS ❯

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joshua (through tears) mr worldwide

[hwarium]

Ship/Member: Joshua-centric, Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: second language identity, the meaning of 'home', understanding versions of someone
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: "Did you think America would change things?"

separate rooms

[hyojungss]

Ship/Member: Minghao/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: precipice of a breakup
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: "I'll sleep in my own room tonight," Minghao said.

[FILL] the cracks of the chimney

[zweiseungs]

Ship/Member: Jeon Wonwoo/Xu Minghao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: angst of sorts, xu minghao isnt usually lonely or easily angered
Permission to remix: Yes

wc: 477
i wrote this quite fast but i hope its alright! wonwoo came on screen when i was watching some past gayo daejun content so therefore he is selected !

— 🌊

The cracks of their relationship goes unnoticable at first, like the chimney that’s overdue for renovation after the last storm made its way to their home. Wonwoo has recently got promoted to senior accountant so he barely comes home, and when he does, Minghao is already fast asleep. If he manages to catch his partner past 3AM, Wonwoo is quietly slipping himself in bed, arms pressed around his waist. 

The next day, and every morning after, Wonwoo’s side of the bed would be cold. 

🌪

Rainy season starts its wave of tears, now breaking apart the chimney where Minghao has to settle, putting buckets to where the water drips. 

“It’s like you don’t have time for me anymore,” Minghao says one Saturday, while Wonwoo is seated with his work laptop in front of him when he brings his partner freshly brewed tea. What sort of company makes their senior accountant work? Wonwoo’s company apparently. 

Wonwoo does not look up but instead proceeds to type away whatever reports he had to hand in. “Sorry babe, just gimme–”

Minghao shuts the laptop by force. With a quick glance, he sees Wonwoo shooting him a deadly stare, and an expression that wears ‘Why the fuck did you do that for?’. It’s very unlike Wonwoo, who would look at him like he’s precious, like he deserved to be treasured. The Wonwoo before him is someone Xu Minghao no longer recognizes. 

“You don’t even look at me, until I do this.” Minghao sighs, hands still pressed against the laptop. “Do you still love me?” 

There’s desperation in his voice and it turns to fear when Wonwoo doesn’t answer immediately like he usually does. A thunder claps loudly in the distance. 

“Can we just talk about this later?” Wonwoo sighs this time. “I really need to get my job done.” 

“We can’t.” the younger man retaliates. “Because there won’t be any later.” he gets up from his seat. Minghao is doing his best to not cry – to not show how vulnerable he feels because he isn’t a needy, or clingy boyfriend. He never wanted to be one. Because if Wonwoo had just said that he loves him, he would have left it there and then, go about his day and let Wonwoo do his work in peace. 

“Do you… still.. love me?” Minghao asks with his lips quivering. The rain outside starts picking up in pace until the droplets from the chimney starts pouring in. 

“I do, I really do..” Wonwoo confesses. 

“But?” Minghao continues, “It’s not day one of me knowing you, Jeon Wonwoo. You love me but what?” 

Wonwoo looks guilty and Minghao feels like he’s about to crumble and give in; to apologize for lashing out just because he's lonely. Because he still loved Wonwoo, and he absolutely despised fighting him. 

“I’ll sleep in my own room tonight,” Minghao says. 

[dumbo1510]

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

Prompt: Just... Stay

[dumbo1510]

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

Prompt: If you feel the slightest bit off you have to tell me

but where are they going ?

[thesolemneyed]

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

Prompt: "I don't mind. I'll go first."

[sanchen]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Chan (platonic or romantically interpreted up to you!)

Major Tags: N/A

Additional Tags: Idolverse, TTT, Alcohol

Permission to remix: Please ask

i found this fic in my docs and i realise i forgot to post it. here you go many months late. it's also on ao3

---

The chants ring out into the open night sky, their voices intermingled with the scents of barbecued meat, ramyeon and alcohol.

“Assa, hongsam!” Dokyeom yells shrilly and waves his arms.

“Everybody hongsam!” Everyone follows, as synchronised as they can be under heavy inebriation. They rise simultaneously from their chairs and the table with its platters of half-finished food and cans of beer shakes dangerously, though no one really notices. Except Chan.

Chan is currently transcending the mortal plane, his mind in another dimension. The seventh can in that tower that Seungcheol stacked is about to topple very very soon. The more he stares at it the more everything spins and it looks like the whole structure is melting. Everything feels duller and lighter and heavier at the same time, and the Hongsam game he’s in is the last thing on his mind. The active decision making bit of his brain checked out, he’s playing on mind and muscle memory from the innumerable rounds played over the years in waiting rooms, studios, and other places. He considers himself a solid drinker, as would anyone who has drank with him, so he has no idea why he’s so fucking hammered right now. Maybe it’s because he’s been running on empty for the past few days, in the rush of recordings and practices and practices again, and his body is taking revenge now. It could also be the copious amount of liquor he drank while he was still tipsily and stupidly confident. What remains of his good sense reminds him that it’s probably both, you dumb bastard. He thinks of Vernon, who left the table a while ago, trudging away to the bedrooms mid-game without a single fuck given, and Chan wishes he could swap bodies right now and black out until the next week. Unfortunately for him, he gives too many fucks, has too much FOMO, and that’s why he locks himself into horrible situations like these.

He feels himself laughing uncontrollably as he points, “Assa, you!”, and he doesn’t know why, because he’s not having much fun. Better than crying at the table at least, he thinks while his eyes dart about the table, unconsciously absorbing the information on who’s “it” right now. The game goes on, and the “it” cycles around the table. It’s a new record, by this time, for a Hongsam game to go for this long without a single failure. They shout louder and louder as excitement mounts, the Hongsam move becoming more and more ridiculous. Joshua, the one-trick pony he is, does his stupid half-sitting down stunt, which everyone fails miserably in imitating. Jihoon does an impressively isolated body wave. Minghao gets on the ground as if he’s going to break into another one of his B-Boy moves, but changes it to a more normal move to everyone’s relief. Their arms move in a frenzy, pointing here and there and everywhere and suddenly, a crash.

The glass that held the leaning tower of Seungcheol’s beer cans topples over, taking with it some cutlery in a thump and clatter and clang and it’s a lot more deafening than it should be. Somehow, again, nobody seems to care. Seungcheol himself simply moves out of the way from a rolling can and continues clapping and pointing. The can rolls and rolls, bumps here and there past the grass and precariously close to the pool-

“Ooooh! Wonwoo! Chan! OUT!”

Chan’s attention is back at the table with the call of his name.

Soonyoung is shouting and jumping up and down, red-faced, his eyes in the perfect 10:10 from his gleeful smile.

“They didn’t point! They didn’t point!”

He turns to face Wonwoo, directly opposite him, who blinks back. Chan is vaguely aware that he must look some kind of way, probably shocked or surprised, from the guffaws around him, everyone bent over clapping at his reaction. Wonwoo, however, just stands and looks at him, his eyebrows knitted. With laughter dissipating, everyone’s moved on to what to pour, and how much to intoxicate the pair with now. Chan moves to join the crowd, but it’s like he’s walking through molasses. Putting one foot in front of the other again and again, he makes it a distance before grabbing onto a chair to steady himself. Through the haze, through everyone’s movement and all the bottles being passed around, only Wonwoo’s semi-still. Leaning on the chair, Chan fixes his eyes on him, just because he needs something or someone who isn’t bouncing off the walls to rest his eyes on. Wonwoo’s turned to the side, talking with Jeonghan who tries to push a bottle of vodka into his arms, and then he takes a glance at Chan. He looks away just as quickly. Chan is quietly amused by the number of times this repeats in the next few minutes. He knows that Wonwoo knows that he’s basically staring, but he’s too tired to care at this point. He decides to just stand around, waiting for the next glass of whatever hellish concoction to arrive. He’s well aware that he could reject it if he really wanted to, and his body is begging him to do so; but he also thinks that maybe with this next glass, it’ll all even out. He’ll pass this phase of drunkenness and become all fine again.

Chan only realises that a few members had left for the kitchen when they return carrying a big clear bottle of... something. It looks hefty in Mingyu’s arms, and if this isn’t concerning enough, the clearly homemade blood red label raises alarm bells in his head. The strokes of the characters all over the label swirl and blend into an indiscernible print, even with the HSK 1 proficiency that he worked so hard for. The members could very well be poisoning him, and his heart stops a little when the bottle is opened with an ominous pop. Soonyoung does the honours, tipping the clear liquid into the soju glass. Chan stares at the glasses instead now, the ripples gently dissipating from the surface as the bottle is heaved away for the next glass. Maybe if he stares hard enough, he can turn the alcohol to water, pull off a reverse-Jesus.

His gaze is broken as he feels a tap on his forearm, and he turns to Wonwoo now standing next to him. Chan then recalls, all too belatedly, that he has to do a forfeit too, so it’s natural that he’d be there. Wonwoo’s eyes lock with his, and then move slowly, meaningfully to the side. Chan follows along a beat late, down his line of sight, right to the soju glass Wonwoo has in his grasp behind his back. Wonwoo bends slightly, and whispers into Chan’s ear.

“It’s water. Don’t worry.”

His voice is soft and low and a respite from the screeching less than an arm’s length away. Chan wants desperately to sink into it and fall asleep right there and then, but Wonwoo draws away, a cold breeze replacing warm breath. He places the glass on the table, covering it with his hand, then looks up and laughs along with whatever the topic of conversation is. Chan can’t really hear shit, but he smiles too, and prays that it works.

Finally, the soju glasses are presented with a flourish of Seungkwan’s hands, imitating a waiter as he bows and walks back to the other members, cheering and hooting.

“Everyone!” Wonwoo begins an announcement, and brings everyone’s curious eyes on him. He moves his hand onto the glass of liquor, and raises it high. So high, that everyone’s field of attention is completely off the table. Chan feels a nudge at his foot, and with as much stealth that he can muster with his leaden limbs, grabs the glass of water.

“Here’s to... uh... many more Hongsam games! TTT every year! Everyone’s health! Seventeen... fighting!”

Wonwoo calls out, loudly, and with a sweep of his other hand, knocks over the last soju glass. It rolls to another end of the table, clinking as it collides with the other glasses. No one hears a thing over the roars of agreement all around and for once Chan is thankful for the noise.

“No more delays,” Seungkwan calls out, transitioning smoothly into his emcee persona. He strides back to the table with his characteristic hand gestures. “Who shall go first in drinking this special 60% Baijiu that Jun-hyung totally did not smuggle in from China?”

Chan turns to look at Wonwoo, and this time he mouths the words.

“Fol-low me.”

Games like Shout in the Silence have never been Chan’s strength, but he’s glad he can read Wonwoo’s lips perfectly this one time, through the senior’s reassuring smile. He tries to hide the corners of his mouth that threaten to rise too high with his forearm.

Wonwoo turns back to the awaiting crowd, the glass to his lips.

“I don’t mind. I’ll go first.”

are they joking or do they actually hate each other ?

[thesolemneyed]

Ship/Member: Seokgyu :3, any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: "Yeah, well, fuck you too."

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: repression TM and not saying anything, just pining from a distance
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: “Do you think we would be together if things had been different?”

sweet

[sido_rlo]

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

Prompt: "I want us both to eat well."
(from: https://mywaitisyou.tumblr.com/post/674550300750856192/id-the-phrase-i-love-you-i-want-us-both-to-eat)

Re: sweet

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Minghao/Seokmin
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: vampire minghao, owner of a fully functioning blood pump seokmin, a getting together of sorts, possessiveness (a little bit. a tiny bit), ominous mingyu presence... is he involved in this? who knows...
Permission to remix: Yes

wc: 842

***

“Please, get out of my house.” Minghao says with his back towards Seokmin. He’s really no fun when he gets in this mood. Seokmin grins anyway.

“I know that you haven’t fed yet today!” He says with a cheerful melody.

Minghao glances at him over his shoulder. “And how would you know that?”

Seokmin pulls out his phone and brandishes it like a piece of evidence. “You never turn off your location, so you’re very easy to track on the Snapchat map.” Minghao finally stops walking away from him and stops in the middle of the hallway, opens his mouth to ask what the hell is a Snapchat map but Seokmin is faster. “And also I asked Mingyu and he said you’ve been grumpy since yesterday.”

The deep frown between his perfectly sculpted eyebrows only deepens. “I’m not grumpy,” Minghao argues. “I’m as social as always.”

Which is to say, not a lot. Seokmin keeps that to himself and smiles at him. He’s always smiling easily, but it feels particularly effortless when it’s directed at Minghao. “Surprised you’re not asking me how that concerns me.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I know why you bring that up. And the answer is still no.”

“You said it yourself though. You said that my blood,” he mimes air quotes, “‘smelled scrumptious’. I’m just offering you a little treat.”

“Well, you shouldn’t. Do you have no sense of preservation at all?” Mingho resumes walking away from him, but Seokmin doesn’t deter.

“Myungho~” Seokmin whines and leans against the kitchen counter. He tilts his head to the side, showing off his neck. He watches as Minghao’s eyes focus on the goal. “It’s okay,” he adds softly. “I want to do this with you.”

Minghao’s frown hasn’t left yet.

“No, that’s inaccurate. It’s more like, I don’t want you to do this with anyone else.”

Minghao’s eyes jump to meet Seokmin’s. The frown is gone, and in its place is a look that Seokmin has never had the pleasure to witness painted on Minghao’s face before. His face is open, shocked into letting his guard down. He looks beautiful like this. Surprised and hopeful.

“Do you realize what you’re saying?” he asks carefully.

Seokmin nods before taking a step forward. “I know. I’ve known for a while now, I’ve been trying to get you to catch up.”

Minghao looks into his eyes for a while longer, smiles until his fangs make a shy appearance. “I’m still not willing to feed on you to the point that my mood actually improves.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “You say that now, but when you’ve gotten a taste of my delicious juicy-”

Minghao shuts him up with a kiss. His sharp teeth bite into Seokmin’s lips, barely enough to draw blood. Minghao drinks him up and hums.

“Not bad,” he mumbles into the kiss.

Seokmin goes to shove his shoulder and instead his fingers hold onto the back of Minghao’s hair, pulling him closer.

“Let’s not do this here though,” Minghao says after pulling back. “I just cleaned the kitchen.”




It’s a good thing Seokmin doesn’t work the next day, because Minghao wakes him up when he stirs awake at around 6pm. They kiss lazily in bed for a while, after Minghao has made sure that Seokmin is still fine and hasn’t lost too much blood.

After a while, Seokmin’s stomach rumbles loud enough that it kills the mood of the entire bedroom. Minghao drapes him in one of his robes and Seokmin drags himself down to the kitchen with naked and lazy feet. He doesn’t hear Minghao’s footsteps behind him, but he’s come to know that it doesn’t mean anything.

Seokmin has been thinking of what to order for breakfast/lunch/dinner and he grins to himself as he spots the fridge. “Bet I could even organize your blood bank a little bit better and make some room for a few leftovers for myself.” He opens the fridge and his hand goes limp on the handle. His smile drops and his gaze follows.

“Why is it full of human food already?” He asks as steady as he can. His voice betrays him. It feels like one too many betrayals for the day. “You don’t eat food.” He adds as if it’s needed.

It feels silly to distrust Minghao now - but it feels too naive to think that Minghao has been waiting as diligently as Seokmin has.

He was right to assume that Minghao would be close behind him. When he exhales carefully, it hits the back of Seokmin’s neck. A gentle breath washes over the puncture wounds, skin still tender. It feels nice and Seokmin lets himself shiver.

With a careful voice, Minghao answers, “Mingyu helped me get groceries a few days ago.” His hand curls around Seokmin’s waist until he settles on his naked stomach. Minghao lets most of his weight rest on Seokmin’s back, chin carefully hooked over his shoulder so that his lips brush against the bite marks and nothing more. “I want us both to eat well.”

wanderer above the sea of fog

[sido_rlo]

Ship/Member: 95z
Major Tags: Endings (that are also possibly beginnings?), anxiety, doesn't necessarily have to be angsty tho.
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: This way, he never has to let go.
(Can be spoken or not.)

drive

[sido_rlo]

Ship/Member: Any, tho for some reason I'm thinking Jeonghan and/or Seungkwan
Major Tags: driving, transience, personal agency
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: death

Prompt: He just waited a bit, then turned back to the car, to drive off to wherever it was he was supposed to be.
(from: the final line of Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro)

martyr complex

[infrequencies]

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

Prompt: "If I had anything left to give, don't you think I would've already given it to you?"

[FILL] stay strong for us, for me

[moonlitmelodiesfic]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Jeonghan (sort of)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse, ode to you backstage, character study, jeonghan pov, seungcheol martyrdom (kinda?), built from literally two scenes of seungcheol's htr ep,
Permission to remix: Yes
a/n: i opened up the prompt and realized that i'd in fact strayed very far from the original idea. wren i'm so sorry if this isn't what you first imagined. i was rewatching seungcheol's htr ep and there is just. so much to unpack from oty in general. and this was born. i hope you enjoy regardless.

***

Stepping off stage is horrendously liberating — to the guilt crouching, ugly, in his chest.

Backstage is a hustle of costume changes and jumbled voices, make-up artists flurrying around the members, fixing hair, thickening the air with hairspray fumes. Jeonghan chokes on the cloying, chemical sweetness, gasping and sinking into the couch. In the mirror of the makeup tables, Soonyoung’s eyes sharpen at him.

“Someone get Jeonghan-hyung the back massager,” he calls into the fray, and Jeonghan does his very best to be grateful. But it’s difficult when there’s attention turning to him and sickening worry on the members’ faces. If his body isn’t already shutting down, Jeonghan thinks he might have thrown up at that. A staff member hurries over, heavy black massager in hand. He has to physically manipulate Jeonghan’s body into a hunched-forward position; the guilt in his chest unfurls, climbing up his throat.

When the massager touches his back it’s a welcomed relief. Jeonghan lets his body shake with the force of its vibrations, too weak to do much about it. A cameraman is crouching down in front of him, probably recording to insert it into some episode of Hit the Road. Please stop, he imagines begging.

He doesn’t. Instead he sits and trembles with the force of the massager. He might be crying. In another world where he cared more he might have hidden his face, might have tried to manage his expressions more. In this one he lets himself break just a little, enough to show the people that he’s no god. Maybe they’ll stop expecting so much of him, of all of them, then.

“Is Jeonghan-hyung okay?” A voice approaches him. It sounds like Minghao. Jeonghan nods, an automatic reflex to reassure kicking in, without looking up, hand already gesturing for Minghao to go, to not worry, to put himself first and Jeonghan last. Minghao doesn’t budge. The cameraman gestures impatiently for Minghao to move out of frame.

“Hyung,” Minghao says, quieter. Through the slits of his eyelids Jeonghan can see the gold glint of his costume. Even in the blinking and weak LED overcast backstage, Jeonghan can see how it glimmers.

Go shine, he thinks, go on stage, where you deserve to be. He can’t put it into words anymore. He just gestures and hopes actions speak louder than words.

He hears Minghao saying something, and at first he thinks it’s to him, but then the cameraman is standing, walking away, leaving just the two of them and the staff holding the massager to Jeonghan’s back. But soon he’s walking away too, the massager transferred to Minghao’s hands. Jeonghan lifts his head slightly to send a questioning glance his way.

“What are you doing,” he musters. He should sound more scolding, do his job as a hyung and shoo Minghao away. Minghao should be getting ready to go on stage, not still here mothering over Jeonghan.

But he can’t make himself do it. He’s so tired.

“Taking care of you, because Seungcheol-hyung no longer can.” The massager switches off. Minghao’s careful hands replace it instead. Jeonghan leans into the touch subconsciously. Sighing, he lifts his head to scan the room for Seungcheol. His gaze snags on him in the back room, shoulders slumped, anxiety scrawled over his face. He’s doing that thing where his brows are furrowed and he’s clearly trying to maintain a neutral expression, but Jeonghan has learned to read Seungcheol before he learned to understand himself. Fatigue is written into every crevice of his body; Jeonghan’s guilt feels too large for his chest.

“He’s leaving, right?” He asks Minghao, digging his teeth into his lower lip enough to leave behind imprints. Minghao’s hands hesitate over a knot near the top of his spine.

“He should be,” he answers back, words weighed with every ounce of the worry Jeonghan feels building in himself. Like a lump in his throat, moisture behind his eyelids. He’s afraid to look into it lest he crumples under it.

At that moment, someone calls Minghao away. The hands on his back offer one parting squeeze, and then the room is flooded with emptiness. Seungcheol is gone from the back room. Jeonghan can only hope he’s in the car.

/

“You’re not going back on stage.” Their manager is insistent. “You need to rest, Jeonghan-ah. Seungcheol is in the car. Go join him. Someone will take you back to the hotel.”

/

The silence in the car suffocates him. Seungcheol doesn't speak, but Jeonghan can sense the words that are cycling through his mind.

“Stop blaming yourself, Seungcheol-ah.” A hypocritical statement. He has not been any better.

Seungcheol’s voice is choked. “Tell me Jeonghan, is this how a leader is supposed to behave?”

“Is a good leader supposed to run away when things get out of hand? Is a good leader supposed to even let things go out of hand? I can’t even get myself under control. How am I fit to lead?” His despair seems to encompass the entire middle seat separating them. Jeonghan’s throat closes up. He has nothing to offer to that.

“Am I weak, Jeonghan-ah? Am I unfitting?” In the near decade Jeonghan’s known him, he’s never heard Seungcheol’s voice so small, so afraid. It terrifies him.

“No,” he responds fiercely, too sharp with panic, struggling to placate the fear. “No, you are absolutely not weak, or unfitting – Seungcheol-ah, don’t say things like that.” He needs Seungcheol to be strong. Seungcheol has always been strong for them, for him.

A clammy palm meets his in the dark. The moment Jeonghan’s hand closes over his, Seungcheol is squeezing like Jeonghan is his only tether. Jeonghan is the one that needs to be strong now. The thought is staggering. All of a sudden he has no idea how comfort works anymore. How do you soothe a weariness that’s soaked four inches deep into muscle and sinew and bone?

In the end, he can only plead.

“Give me something, Seungcheol-ah,” he begs, voice watery and thin, one gasp away from cracking. “Tell me you’ll be okay.”

The next breath Seungcheol takes tells Jeonghan that he is crying into the darkness, the only weakness he’ll allow himself to show.

“If I had anything left to give, don’t you think I would’ve already given it to you?”

let’s kiss in the sun

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Any but preferably Jeonghan/Seungcheol
Major Tags: on-going murder case
Additional Tags: ambiguous ending, idealizing person b’s sadness and fantasizing about saving them, person a’s unreliable accounts of them, visceral conflict, haziness everywhere
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:
there was something about you that I long for to still reflect in my eyes

will I find you again

[moonlitmelodiesfic]

Ship/Member: 97z
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Horror
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: Seokmin meets Mingyu’s eyes slowly, horror chilling him to the bone. “Where is Minghao?”

angst!minwon is the best

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Mingyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: weddings (or proposals??), the Home;Run on a boat vibes
Do Not Wants: N/A

Prompt: "In a sea of doubts, you're the certainty that sails."

the play and echo of another language

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Vernon; Joshua; Minghao; or Junhui
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: bilingualisms, feigning ignorance
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: For specifics: Yoojin Grace Weurtz wrote this essay on teaching her son Korean, bilingualism, and our relationship to language as culture. The part that struck me the most was about the blindspots that she had in Korean when interviewing a monk and her not having the language to understand what was being said because she was never taught those pockets of the language.

"I don't know what that means."

grief creature

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: Major Character Death optional
Additional Tags: Grief
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: There's laughter in every room.

[FILL] why is he still here?

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Minghao
Major Tags: Major Character Death
Additional Tags: mourning, is it a ghost or a grief response?
Permission to remix: Please ask
Word count: 400

going for exactly 400 words! also this is very [gestures vaguely]

***

It’s been five weeks since Seokmin died. No cards anymore, no flowers. Minghao’s colleagues used to tread on eggshells around him, but only so he would notice how they took their shoes off first. Now they don’t even bother doing that. It’s been long enough that Minghao’s mother has stopped texting him every day – clearly she thinks she doesn’t need to worry anymore. The world has decided it’s time for Minghao to move on.

But Minghao sees Seokmin everywhere. His therapist tells him it’s a grief response. His mother tells him it’s Seokmin’s spirit. But whatever it is, Seokmin is still there. When Minghao walks into his apartment, Seokmin is on the sofa, face contorting into a grin when he looks up to see Minghao there. When Minghao wakes up, Seokmin is beside him, the weight of his cold touch floating over his chest. When Minghao tries to cook, Seokmin comes up behind him, wrapping his leaden arms around Minghao’s middle, digging his bony chin into his shoulder.

It’s not really Seokmin, Minghao knows that. The real Seokmin would be warm and light, his fingers gentle, his frame broad and strong. That isn’t the Seokmin that permeates every corner of Minghao’s home. The new Seokmin is heavy against him, yet weak, like he’ll snap in two if Minghao tries to keep him here. His voice isn’t dulcet and gentle but somehow hoarse. When he laughs, his laughter is slow and joyless, like he’s just pretending for Minghao’s sake. It sends a chill down Minghao’s spine, weakens him like a poisoned candy. The Seokmin that beams at him from the photo on the wall is not the Seokmin that whispers, Remember when you took that? Five years ago, wasn’t it? We were so happy back then, Myungho-yah.

This Seokmin doesn’t make Minghao happy, but he’s everywhere. He’s on the bedside table, where he used to leave his books, looking at Minghao with cold eyes as he grabs his watch. He’s in the bathroom, hovering near the half-full bottle of his shampoo, smiling with a menacing wryness when Minghao uses that shampoo rather than his own. He’s on the other end of the couch, staring at Minghao like he’s going to pounce, laughing that mirthless laugh when Minghao catches sight of him.

After another month, Minghao moves out of the apartment. He can’t bear it anymore. There’s laughter in every room.

[seasignals]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Seokmin
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Pining
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: After all, no matter what he said, it was only wishful thinking.

return to center

[infrequencies]

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

Prompt: You call this a homecoming?

[Fill] return to center

[leomoonwonu]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Junhui
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse, wonwoo is yearning i guess, non-linear narrative
Permission to remix: Please ask
A/N: If you listen to Jeremy McKinnon say "I just wanna go home" enough times you too will have a smooth brain

***

Junhui is quiet the first time Wonwoo meets him. It can’t be helped. Wonwoo’s Mandarin is at the same level as Junhui’s Korean, but there is something infectiously likable about him, something that makes Wonwoo want to find out everything. The language lessons at the company are intense, and after a few weeks, words rush from Junhui’s mouth like he’ll burst open if he doesn’t say them. It’s obvious to everyone that that’s exactly how Junhui feels. His voice is beautiful and his dancing skills rival even Soonyoung. Wonwoo tries to imagine a world where Junhui doesn’t leave his home country to join them. He can’t.

Wonwoo explains his way around the word homesick when Junhui spends two days absolutely silent during practice, the line of his shoulders so tight it makes Wonwoo’s teeth ache.

“I don’t know how to say it,” Junhui says when Wonwoo slides down the wall to sit next to him. “My heart hurts. I want to see my mom.”

“You’re homesick,” Wonwoo says.

Junhui’s eyebrows pull down. He holds up his hand, finger on an imaginary dispenser. “I’m not a perfume bottle.”

“Not that. I mean you miss home. It makes you feel sick.”

Junhui hums. “But you can’t see a doctor for this kind of sickness.”

“Maybe, what if you came to visit my home?” Wonwoo asks. Junhui’s eyes widen. “We just have to take the train. I don’t know if that would make you feel better, but I’d really like you to come.”

There is no way the company will allow it. They both know it, but the offer seems to shake some of the weariness from Junhui’s body. When Junhui looks at him again the smile on his face feels like a secret. Fondness grows like roots, settles in the space between their hands.

“I’d like that very much.”





It’s not even that long, Junhui’s voice echoes in Wonwoo’s head. It’ll go by fast.

Tell that to the chat box open on Wowoo’s phone, the same words he’s been typing and erasing for what feels like hours. The seconds drag on, the time between schedules almost unbearable. The problem is that Junhui is right. Three months isn’t a long time at all. Wonwoo has no reason to miss him as much as he does.

There is comfort in sameness, in routine. Even on days when they don’t see each other, there is comfort in knowing Wonwoo could stop by the other dorm and see Junhui. It’s not even like he does it that often. The real problem is that Junhui is back home and Wonwoo is staring at their chat and he feels incredibly small. He feels like a teenager all over again, like those months before debut when none of them really understood how they fit together.

I miss you.

He retypes the message, takes a breath, and hits send. Junhui is probably in the middle of filming, the message glanced at and forgotten before he even thinks to send anything back. It makes the corner of Wonwoo’s mouth tick up with some unbearable fondness.
His phone screen lights up. There’s a reply after all.

Me too.






It’s in Japan that Junhui tugs him into bed and lays his head on his chest. They’ve been here for weeks, concert after fan event after interview, so busy Wonwoo doesn’t even realize he’s homesick until Junhui says it first.

“I want to go home.”

There was a time where Wonwoo would have asked him which one, but he knows, now. Home is the place they all go back to, the shared rooms and the fogged-over practice mirror. Junhui calls Shenzhen my home and now they all call their hometowns the same thing.

“Me too,” Wonwoo says, though it feels like there is much more he should say. Maybe to someone else he would have to, but Junhui has always understood the spaces between the words. “We’ve only got a week left. We’ll be home soon.”

Junhui’s hand trails up his arm absently. “I want you to see the street I grew up on.” Wonwoo’s entire body freezes. It’s not the first time Junhui has said it, but something about being burrowed under the blankets with him makes it feel that way. “I want you to meet my family for more than a few hours.”

Seoul is where Wonwoo really grew up, where he found himself, but Changwon still feels like home. It must be the same for Junhui. Maybe even more so. They say home is the place that makes you, but some days Wonwoo isn’t really sure what that means. Seoul may have shaped him, shaped all of them, but it’s not quite home.

“You really want to?” Wonwoo finally asks. “Just me?”

Junhui pushes at his shoulder. Wonwoo doesn’t need to see his face to know the look he’s giving him.





Schedules and online concerts and magazine shoots. Some days Wonwoo doesn’t even have time to reply to his mother. He thinks back to a few weeks ago, when it felt like he could count each grain of sand as it passed through an hourglass. They’re so busy he doesn’t even realize it’s time for Junhui and Minghao to come home until their manager leaves to pick them up from the airport.

It feels a little like drinking too much caffeine on an empty stomach, like his entire body is vibrating. What was the last conversation they had? Something inconsequential, like what they ate for dinner a few nights ago. His mind races back to the last time they ate dinner together. He can’t remember what it was, but the way Junhui’s face lights up when any of them enjoy his cooking is seared into his brain.

If things were different, they would all celebrate with drinks and grilled meat and Wonwoo would watch the flush spread across Junhui’s cheeks until he hid behind his hands. Instead, Junhui will go to his dorm and Wonwoo will be a few floors away, lying in the dark and pretending he can hear the sound of Junhui’s breathing.

Wonwoo falls into bed, hair still damp from the shower. The energy from earlier leaves him almost hollow, like the crash after adrenaline, and sleep seems out of reach until he’s sucked down into it. He wakes up with a body pressed against his back, so warm he nearly kicks off the blankets.

They say home is the place that makes you, but that’s not quite right. Junhui’s hand is curled against his stomach, the faint scent of his shampoo hangs in the air. Home is the familiar warmth that spreads through Wonwoo’s entire body when he turns over to look at Junhui. It’s hard to make out his features in the dark, but Wonwoo could hit every freckle on his face completely blind.

He wants to kiss him. He wants to hold his face in his hands and press their foreheads together. He settles for burying his face in Junhui’s neck and breathing him in, hands rubbing at every part of him he can reach.

“Traveling always makes me so tired,” Junhui says. The words vibrate against Wonwoo’s chest pleasantly.

“Then sleep.”

“Fine.” Junhui’s sigh flutters across his hair. “If that’s really what you want.”

Wonwoo wants exactly what Junhui wants, and he has never been one to deny him. He noses his way up to Junhui’s face.

“Welcome home,” he says, closing the distance between them. The kiss is like every second Junhui has been gone all at once. It’s like falling into his childhood bed, like the taste of his mother’s cooking.

Maybe this is the place that made him, the gap between their mouths, the warmth of their hands, the solid press of their bodies.

There is a grin in Junhui’s voice when they break apart.

“You call this a homecoming?”

crown to my head

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Chan; Seungkwan; Seokmin; Soonyoung
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: The ugly price of ambition almost kills him.

watching time drift away as we burn away

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol, Jihoon
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: emotionally constipated, miscommunication, doomed romance, mutual pining
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: "It doesn't get better."

king arthur?? potentially??

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: Seokmin(/Anyone)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: seokmin as the hero of a quest of some sort, prophecies?, lots of self-doubt because it's seokmin
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: "Someone has to do it - why can't it be you?"

night reminiscin'

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Junhui
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: childhood friends that have drifted apart to lovers
Do Not Wants: major character death, really heavy angst

Prompt: "It will be just like before, I promise."

[FILL] night reminiscin'

[fleurissons]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Junhui
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: screen writer wonwoo, actor junhui, shared history, reunions....and rooftops.
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

“Déjà vu.”

Wonwoo glances over his shoulder to address the intruder. He would've been startled if he hadn't expected Junhui to find him. He's always had a talent for discovering Wonwoo’s hideouts.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs? The party is in your honour.”

“I remember coming up to Jeonghan-sunbae’s roof to find you hiding away from the crowd,” Junhui answers instead, joining him by the railing.

Yoon Jeonghan. Bright. Dazzling. An aspiring actor. Junhui idolised him so much, he’d followed right in Jeonghan’s footsteps. Jeonghan made it, but Junhui made it bigger, and Wonwoo resented everyone’s golden-haired angel for planting the seeds of dream in Junhui’s impressionable mind.

Every time Junhui had dragged him to Jeonghan’s, he would tell the same lie: it will be fun, Wonwoo-yah! I promise.

"The others must be looking for you." Junhui's the type of person whose absence gets noticed, after all. "Go, celebrate with them."

"Why can't I celebrate with you? Has it been troublesome, having me around?"

"Quite the contrary. It’s been a pleasure working with you, Junhui-ssi,” Wonwoo responds, ignoring the bait in Junhui's voice.

Of course, he's leaving out a good portion of the truth. But what's Wonwoo to say? Did you know, I wrote the main character based on you? When they cast you to play him, I got drunk. Alone, in my room, on the brand of beer you advertised.

Junhui laughs, hollow. "That’s the last thing I want to hear from you."

Wonwoo grits his teeth. Right. Why does he even try?

“I was being nice."

Every summer his colleagues stick him with the new interns—according to them, he’s patient and accommodating. He doesn’t know where those characteristics go where Junhui is concerned. He doesn’t know where anything goes where Junhui is concerned.

"Not the compulsory courtesy, Wonwoo-yah. The Junhui-ssi."

Oh. Wonwoo supposes he has gotten used to addressing Junhui formally over the past three months. It wasn't something he said intentionally to draw a line between them. The crystalline silence holds strong until Junhui clears his throat, shattering it.

"Shooting in Korea is tough."

“Which part? Being away from home or speaking Korean?”

"Where’s home?"

Home should be here. Home could have been here. But when Junhui said, it will only be a year, Wonwoo-yah. I promise, one had turned into five turned into ten.

It's not about home, then. That leaves the second option.

"You sound like a native these days," Wonwoo offers kindly.

Junhui gazes at the moon. “You know, Wonwoo-yah... the problem with having learned a language from someone is remembering them in every word they ever taught you.”

He waits for the other shoe to drop.

“And you, well, you were hello. There is no escaping you.”

Escaping him? Wonwoo wants to laugh. That sounds absurd. Escaping Wonwoo is easy. Effortless, even. He’s not the one with his face in every third C-drama, every second ad during prime hours, every billboard from Wonwoo’s office in Mapo to his apartment in Gwangjin.

“That was a good line,” Wonwoo comments. “I should write it down.”

Junhui's mood doesn't lighten up. "I wished you had told me sooner."

"Told you what?"

He turns to Wonwoo, leaning sideways against the railing. “That hello also means goodbye.”

The weight of his gaze pins Wonwoo to his place. Junhui stares at him like Wonwoo's something he had rediscovered and is at the brink of losing once more. Wonwoo relaxes his fingers. He hadn't realised he'd gathered them into fists. There is no escaping you. Why couldn't he just carry Wonwoo with him, then? They could have saved themselves some pain.

"One can argue correlation does not imply causation," Wonwoo finds his voice again. "Let's say one does cause the other, just to entertain the thought—how do we know which one is the root, which is the branch? Does hello mean goodbye, or does goodbye open up the possibility for another hello?"

Junhui considers this.

Then he says, “Hello, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He has a nervous smile on, but Wonwoo recognises this smile better than the ones he shows to the cameras.

“I want to take you out.” His lips are trembling, eyes star-bright under the silvery moonlight. The constellation on his face, Wonwoo wants to trace them with his fingers. “Let's have that date we should have had a decade ago. We can go to our usual place, order our usual meals, have our usual conversation.”

In theory, the plan is sound. But ten years is a long time and Wonwoo has actively avoided the area since Junhui’s packed his bags to shoot his first movie in Wuxi.

"The place’s probably been closed for years."

"No, it’s open."

Wonwoo raises a brow. "How do you know?"

“Because I went there to check,” Junhui answers, confidence seemingly returned to his person. “Last night.”

There's nowhere to run now. Wonwoo can no longer hide behind the excuse of distance, not when Junhui is close enough to touch. To hold. To kiss.

Perhaps third time's the charm.

"What do you say, Wonwoo-yah?"

So Wonwoo lets himself fall into an old and familiar trap, one set by hope and Junhui’s beguiling words:

“It will be just like before, I promise.”

[jazz hands] apocaplypse

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: Any, Seokmin/Mingyu
Major Tags: Major Character Death (probably)
Additional Tags: futility! trying anyway! you can interpret apocalypse literally or you could make it smaller like the destruction of a city
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: It ends like this: a world aflame, with two men loving in the midst of it all.

[FILL] say your goodbyes (if you've got someone you can say goodbye to)

[denimdreams]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Mingyu
Major Tags: major character death (it happens offscreen but is talked about)
Additional Tags: unreality and some natural disasters, surviving and trying to live despite the hopelessness
Permission to remix: No

***

Firstly I'd like to say that I saw this prompt and it consumed me whole then spat me back out as a mess of emotions and full of desire to get all of said emotions onto the screen as a coherent fic.

It's too long to put in a comment here but it's here on ao3! I may have gone a little ham on the apocalypse and taken it on a more 'fabric of reality breaking down' magical realism route but I hope you still enjoy this!!

we'll make it work (we have to)

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Anyone
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: potentially idolverse? but do whatever you want
Do Not Wants: major character death

Prompt: "But if you let me, I swear to God I'll make it work."

[FILL] here's where to find me

[sido_rlo]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol (/no one, sorry)
Major Tags: character study, anxiety
Additional Tags: N/A
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Dear Seungcheol,

It’s me. Or rather, you. God, this is embarrassing.

It’s Sunday night. Do you remember the team meetings we used to have every week? Maybe you guys are still doing them. I just hope you’re not doing this dumb introspective, self-reflection, character-building stuff anymore. I know that as the leader, I should be enthusiastic about it. But honestly, I think we’d all be better people if we just got to sleep early or order pizza once a week. Maybe that’s just me—maybe I’m just the hungriest and the most exhausted one here. Isn’t that how it should be, though?

Anyway, Noona told us to write letters to our future selves. If you remember what I wrote, it’d be great if you could time travel back and just tell me ㅋㅋ. Here’s where to find me: Right now I’m sitting in the corner of the living room, the one where the wood has peeled up and we all keep tearing holes in our socks. Thank God for Mingyu’s sewing kit, right? Anyway, I’m the one in the orange basketball shorts. Oh, and it’s February 22, 2015.

This is dumb. You know who I am. More likely it would be me who wouldn’t recognize you. That’s kind of a nice thought—as long as you turn out good. You have to be good, okay?

I’ve never told anybody this, but since you already know, I might as well say it now. I know that my biggest worry should be the other kids, but it’s actually you. I mean me.

Not that I don’t worry about them—I do, every hour of every day. I could tell you everything about what’s going on with them. Channie slept through his vocal lesson yesterday. Joshua hasn’t been to the dentist once since he moved here. Seokmin wouldn’t take a single bite of his birthday cake last week. But sometimes, I’ll look at one of them, and I’m so fucking baffled as to what they’re thinking that it’s almost hard to believe that they’re a human being, just like me. It makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world, like everyone else are just holograms, or side characters, or elaborate productions of science or magic or God that are only here to make it seem like I’m living a real life. And I know that this is selfish and that the only reason I feel so terrified and lonely is because the only person I’ve ever been is me. But shit, it’s so hard to look beyond my own dense skull sometimes, you know?

I guess it’s your dense skull, too. Actually, since you’re not here to defend yourself, I might just pin it all on you ㅋㅋ. By now, you should be able to handle it, right? Seungcheol-ah, you’re a nervous wreck. If you’re going to be the leader of this team, you’re going to have to pull yourself together. And I’m not just talking about your dancing, though that needs some work too. Your boys are struggling, and part of that is okay, because debuting is a struggle. But part of it isn’t. That part is your responsibility. Figure it out.

Sometimes, the only thing that feels true is how badly I want us to succeed, and if you get in the way of that, I’ll never forgive you.

But if you let me, I swear to God I’ll make it work.

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: death
Additional Tags: devilman crybaby tingz, end of the world™
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: "_____, why am i the only one who's speaking?"