Round 1 2023: Quotes

[hwarium]

Status: Closed This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted. Seventeen Holidays Round 1: Quotes About "Someone will remember us, I say, even in another time." "How inconvenient to be made of desire." "It's me, hi, I'm the problem its me." Calling all readers, lovers of poetry and music, screen and stage. Quote collecters and lyric hoarders, unleash your archive. For this round, every prompt must contain a quote - you can combine them, add commentary, link to articles, do whatever. Steal from a literary classic, or copy WeVerse drama. 🛑 HOLD UP If this is your first time on 17hols please check out our About Page which contains helpful information and links to pages explaining dreamwidth and HTML. We are a prompting fest where all the action happens in the comment section. Rules Sign up is not required. Fills have a minimum of 400 words for prose, haiku-length for poetry (3 lines), and 400px by 400px for art (memes are also art). Other mediums are fine too! There is no maximum cap. Tag and provide content warnings at your discretion, but a good guide are the Ao3 four (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage) and this list of common CWs (cr: SportsFest). NSFW/Explicit content should be tagged NSFW art should not be visible, please provide a link and a warning. You may crop the artwork and embed a SFW preview. How it works Prompting Click on [Post a New Comment] at the bottom of this post; Change the subject; Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment and edit the sections. Feel free to add as much detail as you want! Need ideas? Check out our 2021 and 2022 Quote rounds. <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Do Not Wants:</strong> None <strong>Prompt:</strong> <blockquote>[QUOTE GOES HERE] </blockquote> Filling Reply to the original prompt; You must change the subject to [FILL] - this is to help the mods track. Feel free to add a title Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment, edit the sections, and add your text. You may also upload your fill to the AO3 Collection. <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask *** Remixing Post as a reply to the fill you are remixing, using the same HTML as above; Change the subject to [REMIX]. Art/media Upload your work to any platform (twitter, imgur, youtube, soundcloud, google maps, etc.) Using the same HTML code as above, copy the link into your fill or remix. That's it! Optionally, you can embed a picture into your comment. Please use the following code instead. (To explain, the HTML resizes your picture to 400x400px so that it fits on most screens. Users can view the full size if they click on it. You can also add a link to your work on twitter so that others can share it, or to any other website you want) <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Permission to remix:</strong> Yes/No/Please ask *** <img src="INSERT IMAGE URL" width="400px"> <a href="INSERT ANY URL YOU WANT">TEXT THAT DESCRIBES THE LINK</a> Note! On dreamwidth, you can't edit a comment once someone has replied to it. Navigation ABOUT FAQ CHAT BAITS ✧ FILLS ✧ < ROUND 1: QUOTES > ROUND 2: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES 2021 2022

Comments

what is it that ties me to you?

[sunwalkr]

Ship/Member: any but can we please please please think about minghao/anyone (i am seokhaoist. just so u know..)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: just one word for you: Yearning, think about the Yearning.
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

She said, Lik bat chung sam—do you know what it means? It means, what your heart wants but you cannot do. It is an uncomfortable feeling. It’s the feeling of wanting to do something and not being able to.
— pik-shuen yung, ghost forest

[FILL]: Rot

[thesolemneyed]

Ship/Member: Minghao/Seokmin
Major Tags: Death? Gore?
Additional Tags: Resurrection, Abuse of power(s), Yearning (but for someone you used to know)
Permission to remix: Yes

i have no idea if it fits The Vibe, but i had so much fun writing this !!!
ao3 twt

there's something I want to hear

[latespring]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: ik the original context but feel free to go anywhere, telepathy?, divinity?, really good friends?, enemies who reluctantly understand each other?
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

The omniscience was a curse. Knowing someone's heart meant always deceiving someone.

-chapter 108 of omniscient reader's viewpoint

[jwinki]

Ship/Member: jeongcheolgyu...?? has this ever been uttered before? 95z and 97z are great candidates as well, i'll let u choose who gets pegged as 'less in his brain' ;)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Sweet Emily, my bride to be
Just how long will you stand next to me?
For we both know, it's more than a load
For you to bear
It'd break my heart but I'd understand if you'd
Leave me for another man with a little
Less on his mind, less on his plate
Less in his brain

― Please Do Not Lean, daniel caesar ft badbadnotgood

[oransodacan]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: possible mcd?
Additional Tags: unhealthy relationships, obsession. opt. murder? (gen welcome too)
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

We took a walk that night but it wasn′t the same
We had a fight on the promenade out in the rain
She said she loved me but she had somewhere to go
She couldn't scream while I held her close
I swore I never let her go

Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine, The Killers


this is just for anyone looking for an excuse to write somehing twisted! ❤︎

where did you say we came from?

[aenia]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: make it as sad/angsty as you want, i'd appreciate an open/ambigous ending but it's not a must
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Wake up in the morning
And it's like I lived another life
With you right by my side
But I swear that I heard you just this morning
Through the walls of my apartment
And I laughed then I cried
'Cause you haven't been here for years

– Film Credits, Club Kuru

[FILL] let it be me

[kwontent]

Ship/Member: soonwoo
Major Tags: waking up from a dream where u are married to your roommate
Additional Tags: N/A
Permission to remix: Please ask


Soonyoung won’t stop letting the cat onto the kitchen counter. He says it’s because it’s where the cat wants to be, natural instincts dictating his actions.

Wonwoo watches Soonyoung cook, something too-spicy and bright red and possibly inedible, and he watches the cat watch Soonyoung from his perch on top of the toaster oven.

He had offered to help Soonyoung, but Soonyoung told him to just do the dishes after and they’d be good.

He’s only wearing underwear and an apron. He looks stupid, he’ll probably burn his nipple off or something. God, Wonwoo loves him so much.

The love moves through him, controlling his body for him, and then he’s up and crossing the kitchen.

Wonwoo buries his nose in Soonyoung’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Oh! Hi,” Soonyoung says, worming his way deeper into Wonwoo’s grip until he’s too far from the stove to really cook right. He smells nice, like pepper and broth. Wonwoo breathes in deeply, pressing his face into Soonyoung’s warm skin. “Are you hungry?”

Wonwoo bites his shoulder, making Soonyoung scream. “Not me! The stew!”

Wonwoo replaces his bite with a kiss, talking into Soonyoung’s skin when he says, “Turn the stove off.”

“Hmm?”

“Turn the stove off, I want to…”

Soonyoung hums, his body swaying in Wonwoo’s arms. “It’s almost done, can’t you wait?”

“Only wanna taste you,” Wonwoo murmurs. “No stew-mouth.”

“You and stew are my favorites,” Soonyoung says, leaning forward to stir the pot. “I’ll taste both and be happy.”

Wonwoo hooks his chin over Soonyoung’s shoulder and kisses his neck, behind his ear. He pulls back and it’s like he can see the goosebumps on Soonyoung’s arms, the hair standing up.

“Ah,” Soonyoung sighs, “Okay, okay, okay, let’s—“ He turns in Wonwoo’s grip, hands coming up to cup his cheeks, and pulls him in for a sweet kiss.



Wonwoo wakes up.

He must have gotten hot overnight. His blankets are clotting at the end of his bed—his twin bed where he sleeps alone, with only a wall separating him and Soonyoung.

Soonyoung. His roommate.

Fuck. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, not ready to put his glasses on and face reality.

Next door, there’s a thump and then a grunt and Wonwoo wonders if Soonyoung fell out of bed again. Usually he thinks it’s funny, and it is funny, but today the image of Soonyoung, sleepy-eyed and sprawled on the floor, fills his chest with liquid gold.

Oh, this is not good. Wonwoo tries to calm his heart, beating out of his chest, and fails spectacularly.

It felt so real. He felt so warm.

The cat scratches at his door, begging for food. That felt real too—Soonyoung really does always let him on the counter. Soonyoung really does only know how to make kimchi jiggae. Soonyoung really does wear an apron over his underwear.

Nothing about that dream was a fantasy, except for the part where Wonwoo kissed him, bit him, tasted his skin. Held him.

He’s never thought about that before. Honestly, he’s never seen Soonyoung like that in his head. They’ve been around each other so long, lived together for so many years. Wonwoo just figured it would have happened by now, if it was going to happen. And when it didn’t, he took that as a sign.

It feels different now. Wonwoo doesn’t know where to be in his own body, what parts of himself to fill out. He gets up, feeling both too big for his room and so small he could get lost in the carpet. Outside, Soonyoung is already in the kitchen, slamming cabinets and putting metal utensils back in the drawer.

Wonwoo is scared to go out there. What if he wants to kiss him?

He makes a detour in the bathroom, splashing some water on his face and staring at himself in the mirror. He looks the same, bedhead and all. There’s a pimple forming on his upper lip. He forgot to wash his face after eating last night.

He opens the bathroom cabinet and spies his face wash next to Soonyoung’s. His moisturizer next to Soonyoung’s. His pimple patches, his serum. They share the same toothpaste because Soonyoung has a lot of toothpaste opinions and Wonwoo doesn’t care, only wants to save money. For Christmas last year Soonyoung bought them matching face wash headbands, tiger ears and cat ears. The two fuzzy piles are tangled together in the cabinet.

One time Soonyoung broke his toothbrush and they shared one, just for a night. At the time it was funny. Now it’s like another nail in the coffin.

Wonwoo can’t keep spiraling like this. The sight of their toothbrushes pointed at each other like they’re about to kiss can’t make him panic. He escapes the bathroom with his life.

Something in the kitchen smells good. Wonwoo rounds the corner with trepidation, expecting to see Soonyoung’s wide shoulders and narrow waist fully bare in the dying morning light. Thankfully, Soonyoung’s in a sweatshirt and he’s not at the stove, but sitting at their tiny table with a bowl of cereal perched in one hand, the other scrolling on his phone. Soonyoung watches Instagram reels at a volume that offends everyone in the building. Wonwoo listens to the first one second of several different songs before stepping fully into the kitchen and trying to be normal.

“Morning,” he says, his voice weird. Fuck. Okay.

“Hi,” Soonyoung says, not looking up from his phone. Wonwoo wants him to look, suddenly. “Can you still grab some milk on your way home? I used the last of it, sorry.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says. “Yeah, I can do that for you.”

“It’s your milk too,” Soonyoung reminds him, putting his phone down to take a huge bite of cereal. It’s only ever Frosted Flakes. “Sorry again. I was planning on eating something else.”

“No, it’s okay,” Wonwoo says. Look at me, he thinks. “I’ll grab something on the way. Did you cook something?”

Soonyoung flushes and looks at Wonwoo for the first time today. Wonwoo breaks out into a cold sweat. “I was trying to make bacon. But it had other ideas.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Wonwoo says. “At least the fire alarm didn’t go off again.”

“Ha-ha. Yeah, yeah,” Soonyoung grimaces and goes back to his cereal. Wonwoo tries his best to act normal as he opens the fridge. It’s bare and empty. He snags the last yogurt drink from the 3+1 deal they took advantage of and downs it in two seconds.

The cat hops up on the kitchen table and Soonyoung coos. “Hi baby, hi!”

“Don’t let him on the table, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo chides.

Soonyoung strokes the cat’s chin and says, “He likes to be tall. Right? Right? Oh, you’re cute. You’re my cute boy.”

Wonwoo can’t control the force of his feelings. He literally might stagger, his legs going a little weak. All this, over a dream? Wonwoo feels sick.

The worst thing is, it doesn’t go away. The feeling. Wonwoo floats to work, barely paying attention to anything. He helps a couple customers with restarting their computer, leaning over them, and thinks of Soonyoung. He takes some food orders and thinks of Soonyoung. He gives his coworker the keys before he leaves and thinks of Soonyoung.

This can’t last. Surely it can’t last. Surely he’ll go to bed tonight and have a dream where Soonyoung is his teacher and gives him an F and makes him cry and it’ll be back to normal.

He tells himself that as he curls up in bed, kicking off his socks. It’ll all be over soon.

He falls asleep.

In his dream, Soonyoung is cooking stew.

i keep turning you over

[lovekyeoms]

Ship/Member: any, but may i suggest: jeon wonwoo
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: jww and his quiet-intense-stifling yearning, thinking about someone so much they start to live inside you
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

The ash keeps dropping from the incense stick.
1 keep turning you over in my mind.
I keep turning you over in my heart.
The stick shortens, burning.
The ash grows
and falls.
I keep turning you over.
I keep turning you.
I keep turning.

-Sandalwood, Li-Young Lee

[FILL] the candle and the fire

[17minutes]

Ship/Member: wonwoo centric but wonwoo/seungcheol
Major Tags: n/a
Additional Tags: non-linear narrative, wonwoo yearns, office au (?)
Permission to remix: please ask
Word count: 667

***

wonwoo thinks of his heart as a candle. something changed when he was seventeen. soonyoung took him under his wings in school and soonyoung was as fiery as it can get. his heart was an open fire in the warmest cabin.

wonwoo’s heart feels like a candle.

quiet, gentle. the candle you light up to guide you in the middle of the night.

”careful,” comes seungcheol’s voice and his hand takes wonwoo’s jacket. pulls him further away from the bike lane and closer to him. he knew he was close to the bike lane, but he sticks closer to seungcheol. because now the invitation for proximity is explicit. wonwoo doesn’t have to be nervous about their shoulders touching.

in this moment, it feels like he’s allowed to be close. to seungcheol. seungcheol who sticks to wonwoo’s mind like glue. wonwoo could read the affection as brotherly. the same way seungcheol finds him in the copy room and tells him to come along for a coffee break. in those moments, wonwoo tells himself that he can do the same for seungcheol. he doesn’t of course. it scares him.

“thank you,” wonwoo says once he’s away from the bike lane and he wonders if seungcheol knows. he doubts he knows – it’s brotherly, it’s affectionate. it’s seungcheol taking him under his wing after he saw wonwoo lost in the copy room. it’s that and a few hang outs. it’s lingering as the only two behind at company dinners with wonwoo trying to subtly touch his cheeks and hope the redness on them isn’t evident to seungcheol.

seungcheol is a fire in the woods. he’s not sure when the metaphor started taking hold of his life. in his mind, seungcheol is a fire in the woods. to keep you warm after a long night. to stick to your mind as a warm memory.

even with their boss sitting next to him, wonwoo only saw seungcheol. it’s no wonder really, that now, on the walk, even with the sunset cascading the sky with yellows and pinks, wonwoo still sees seungcheol. it’s also no wonder wonwoo is eating up everything seungcheol says. when he takes the silence in the moment to bring back memories from his childhood where he would bike around their hometown with his family.

wonwoo doesn’t share as much. later that night he considers that it’s out of fear. of slipping up, of saying something so seungcheol finds out.

“is it that bad that he finds out?” minghao asks over a text one night and wonwoo contemplates. he contemplates long enough that he even forgets to reply.

the reply to minghao comes three days later. where wonwoo swipes the text out from the rest of their conversation and tells him that, yes, it would be that bad.

don’t burn yourself, wonwoo tells himself after he bids seungcheol a good night. they’re standing by the bus stop and seungcheol’s bus arrived before his. when wonwoo’s alone with his thoughts while he watches the bus drive away, he wonders if there will be more. more bravery. because there can’t be more yearning.

wonwoo thought that his feelings would ease soon enough. but it feels like someone lit another candle and told him to hold it until it dies.

now, months later, it hasn’t moved. the light stays on, swaying gently with not a centimeter of height lost. wonwoo’s stuck holding it. he wants to test if it’s real, if he touches the fire – will it burn him? he wants to reach over, swipe his palm over it and see if it does anything.

could he kill the fire himself?

or will he stay still, holding it as it continues to light his day?

nothing’s worked yet. so as the bus becomes smaller and smaller down the road, wonwoo tucks his hands into his jacket and contemplates just how long he will sit next to the fire in the woods and hold his candle.

for a long time, he presumes.

and he sighs.

the one that got away

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags:
Do Not Wants: major character death

Prompt:

All days I dream of being next to you
You are a sudden void
I want to be the one you wonder about
When it’s midnight and it’s three years down the line

- Zero, The Ophelias

suffocating (but only a little)

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: any, jeonghan/any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: slightly twisted relationships
Do Not Wants: major character death

Prompt:

You wrap me in silence
Your hand is on my neck
To keep your fingers warm, so you keep them around

- Lunar Rover, The Ophelias

[FILL] suffocating (but only a little)

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: gyuhan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: choking/breath play, a passingly cavalier attitude toward one’s own continued existence for the sake of making someone happy
Permission to remix: go for it

***

Quiet, Jeonghan tells him.

Quiet is one thing Mingyu can’t be. Quiet sits in him like an unexploded mine, like a festering wound, the pressure worse with every passing moment. Quiet makes Mingyu profoundly aware of his own tongue, how big it feels in his mouth, how still.

For Jeonghan he chokes on it, a thick strip of dumb meat trapped between his teeth. For Jeonghan he eats the smallest sounds, writhing from what it costs him.

Stay still, Jeonghan tells him, because as long as he’s asking for one impossibility, he might as well make it two.

It takes everything in Mingyu not to cry. He doesn’t know how to make himself more still than this. He fists his hands so hard they tremble, his whole body one long shake. Jeonghan’s fingers scale his ribs, sinking into the soft places between bone, and Mingyu inhales loudly, trying not to flinch, his heart salt-studded and raw when Jeonghan lets out an annoyed hiss.

“I’m trying,” Mingyu whispers, the softest sound he can make, because Jeonghan’s sitting back on his lap now, not touching him anywhere else, and Mingyu can smell his disappointment. He knows better than to reach out, that he won’t have Jeonghan like this again for days if he tries to hold him there, maybe weeks, maybe never. “I’m trying, hyung,” he whispers, no whine because Jeonghan hates self pity and despises excuses. “I need help.”

Jeonghan is so still and silent above him it’s like he disappeared, an empty weight across Mingyu’s thighs. He fights the burning need to open his eyes, to see his face, the exact shade of his frustration. Everything suddenly itches at once, his foot is cramping and his jaw aches from grinding it into silence, and still Mingyu waits, steel trapped, fighting the bone-deep urge to gnaw off his own leg and limp to safety.

His patience, however imperfect, does not go unrewarded.

“Okay,” Jeonghan says, his sweet curling voice and his fingertips light on Mingyu’s lips. “I’ll help you this time. But you can’t fight. You have to be good for me. Can you be good?”

He almost—almost—falls for it, the clawing need to swear to him, he’ll be good, he can be so good. He swallows it down at the last moment and blooms with the full force of Jeonghan’s approval, soaking up a quiet good boy, chest inflating with the high.

He’s on the zenith of a breath, and then the breath is a balloon, a jar of air trapped inside him with the lid screwed tight.

Mingyu has eight centimeters and at least 15kg on Jeonghan, but all of Jeonghan’s strength is in his hands: the one wrapped around Mingyu’s throat like a vice, cutting off his air, and the one cradling his face, asking him to take it.

He can’t help it: his eyes and hands fly open. Jeonghan is blurry above him, a long exposure trailing lights and smoke. Mingyu’s body tries to buck, but he can’t let it. He doesn’t remember why, the panic runs too deep, but something else runs deeper. Jeonghan’s face is swimming away from him, his voice almost drowned under the ocean pound of blood in his ears, but he’s saying Mingyu’s name. He won’t let him drown. Mingyu’s almost certain of it.

“Good,” Jeonghan croons, shuffling forward on his knees so their hips slot together, which is the moment the living sliver of Mingyu’s brain realizes he’s hard. It hurts, how sweetly Jeonghan rocks against him. He wants to rise up into it and finds he can’t—not because he won’t let himself, but because he doesn’t have the strength. Relief ricochets through him. It must show on his face, how he unfolds to it, lets it press his layers flat, because Jeonghan makes a wounded sound and presses his lips to Mingyu’s slack mouth. “Good, you’re so good for me, just like that.”

It’s enough to carry him through when the hand on his throat eases, three or four gasping lungfuls of air flooding his blood like syrup before he’s plunged under again. This time it isn’t hard to be quiet, to stay still, to become a soft and docile thing. All he has to do is lay himself in Jeonghan’s hands and wait.

“Good, good good you’re good,” Jeonghan whispers, whining it into Mingyu’s ear around a bruising bite. He moves against Mingyu’s body in vague ways Mingyu can’t quite feel, his knee only occasionally and incidentally sliding between Mingyu’s thighs, but each press feels like a knife. He’s halfway to unconscious when he comes, the pleasure rolling slowly through him and then suddenly doubling back when Jeonghan pulls his hand away, the breath almost sweeter than the release, sharp enough to saw right through the last thread and send him hurtling into blackness.

He comes to with tears on his cheeks and Yoon Jeonghan staring down at him. The relief that washes over his pale, frightened face is a second high, curves Mingyu’s mouth into a big dumb smile.

“Stop it,” Jeonghan snaps, but his voice lacks heat, the smack to Mingyu’s shoulder softening at the last second, turning to a caress. “I thought I suffocated you.”

“Only a little bit,” Mingyu croaks, voice wispy with nothing more complicated than contentment, and this time when Jeonghan presses their mouths together he can feel it, and he lets himself kiss back.

eric by mitski (but make it seokgyu)

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: seokmin/mingyu
Major Tags: n/a
Additional Tags: sex without love
Do Not Wants: major character death

Prompt:

As you kneel, I’ll be watching you fix me,
This view of you, of the top of your head, makes me forgive you

- Eric, Mitski

[FILL] the view of you

[nitemareodyssey]

Ship/Member: seokmin/mingyu
Major Tags: explicit
Additional Tags: sex without love, shower sex, au: primary school football coaches, blowjobs, skullfucking, discussion/lampshading of having sex in a primary school building (with no children anywhere near whatsoever)
Permission to remix: Yes
Word count: 1092

hi! i hope this isn't too soft and sappy and soft! i just think that seokmin in a football kit,

***
seokmin was tired and covered in mud.

they ran over, again, because the kids loved playing in the rain, and because the game they had invented, with its complicated rules, sort of a mix between red-light-green-light and tig and bulldog had got them all going, and none of them wanted to stop. but the parents were gathering in the car park and the light was going, so they’d sent the kids in to change and then made sure everyone had gone home with the right adult, and now mingyu was out collecting up cones and piles of bibs while seokmin counted the cash.

when seokmin worked at private summer camps for boys from fancy schools in seoul, the parents paid in advance by bank transfer. this was just a public primary school in a suburb of anyang, and the parents brought paper notes, and if they didn’t, seokmin would assure them they could bring it next week, or the week after.

when he’d counted it all up, he split the cash in half, and left kim mingyu’s share in a pile next to his fleece on the desk.


seokmin had met kim mingyu a month ago, at the start of the primary school term, and could count what he knew about him on one hand. he was a business major at a private college in seoul, he’d grown up here and gone to this school, he was living at home and working as a football coach to save money, and he was a giant pain in the ass.

he was beautiful, and he had all the eommas, and not a few of the appas, in the palm of his hand. he was great with the kids- the shy ones, especially- and he supported juventus, despite having no apparent connections to italy.

“i went to italy on my year abroad when i was in college,” seokmin had said when they’d met. “trained with ac milan at san siro.”

“oh?” mingyu had replied, “that’s nice.” and seokmin had felt a fool for even bringing it up. see? asshole.

a beautiful asshole.


seokmin wanted to go straight home, but he was absolutely caked in mud, right up to his knees and his elbows, and his hair was soaked. he was not an overly proud man, but he didn’t want to get on the subway like that. nor, he thought, as he stripped off in the now-empty changing room and made for the showers, would myungho or junhwi let him in.

the water was still hot, and there was even a travel mini of shower gel on the floor, presumably left by one of the kids. he gratefully soaped himself up, head to toe, and enjoyed the feeling of being warm and clean for the first time that day.

almost without realising it, he wrapped his hand round his cock. he let go of it, as if scalded, and then spat out the mouthful of water he’d got from his sudden movement. it was- weird, right? jerking off in the showers of a primary school. not that there were any kids around- probably just the ahjussi who swept the playground and dusted the classrooms. but still. weird.

then again, it was a friday, and friday was myungho and junhwi’s date night, which at this time of year never meant actually leaving the apartment and going somewhere, but rather sitting on the sofa making goo-goo eyes at each other in front of a film before having loud sex in their bedroom, every second of which seokmin could hear. he would not be getting a chance to jerk off tonight, not unless he wanted that to be his soundtrack. and he was already half-hard, and- why not?


“need some help?”

“jesus!” seokmin nearly slipped on the soap on the floor. he grabbed the top of the shower wall for purchase and turned round.

kim mingyu was in front of him, socks and shoes off but otherwise still in his kit, also covered in mud, sweating, grinning, and very noticeably hard.

“what?” seokmin said.

“you never shower after we’re done,” mingyu said.

“i shower at home,” seokmin replied.

“well, i always shower here, and i always jerk off.”

“this is a primary school,” seokmin exclaimed. mingyu didn’t even need to say anything, he just raised one eyebrow and tilted his head.

“do you need some help?” he asked again.

seokmin opened his mouth and closed it.

“yeah,” he said, before he could stop himself, and then it all happened at once.

mingyu dropped to his knees, so fast and so hard that seokmin cringed, but mingyu didn’t seem to mind. the fucker was tall enough that he actually had to bend down a bit to reach seokmin’s cock. he took it in his hand, spat, and then swallowed it all in one fluid motion.

“oh, fuck-” seokmin said. his knuckles were white- one hand on the wall to keep him upright, the other twisted in the sweat-soaked strands of mingyu’s hair.

“fuck me,” mingyu said. a string of spit hung between his lip and seokmin’s dick.

“huh?”

“my mouth, fuck my mouth, want it, i want it-”

mostly to shut him up, seokmin shoved his head back down. he’d never- not even with his ex- but he’d used a pocket pussy before, and he’d seen porn. he got the idea.

mingyu’s mouth was the perfect slippery heat. his tongue was rough and even as seokmin jerked his head back and forth he used well, lapping at the slit. seokmin looked down, and mingyu’s eyes were black like a pot of ink, and a tear formed and slid down his nose.

seokmin came before he had time to warn mingyu. he shoved his cock right to the back of his throat, and mingyu gagged, but swallowed every drop.


“fuck,” he muttered, as he pulled his soft cock out of mingyu’s mouth.

“i’ve got a presentation tomorrow,” mingyu said. “they’ll think i’ve got tonsillitis and send me home.”

seokmin watched as mingyu pulled his hand out of his shorts and licked it clean.

“you already-”

“yeah.”

mingyu stood up.

“next time,” seokmin said, “i’ll. if you want.”

“next time?” mingyu said.

“if you want,” seokmin repeated.

mingyu said nothing to that, and then- “move, i need to shower.” he pulled his shirt and shorts off and dumped them in the corner. without another word, he shoved seokmin out of the way and stood under the water.

seokmin stared for a moment at his back muscles, then collected his towel and left.

get me out of this town!

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: any (could be gen too) but minghao or wonwoo would be nice
Major Tags: n/a
Additional Tags: returning to/staying in your stagnating hometown and resenting it deeply, setting as symbolism, transit as a liminal space
Do Not Wants: major character death

Prompt:

The boat smacks against the dock it’s tied to. Your mother
fixes your father’s tie before closing the casket.

Everyone you loved refused to die in this town
before they died in this town.

- Outbound, Hieu Minh Nguyen

[FILL] You reflect all the godlike

[icarusundone]

Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Chan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Age Difference, Infidelity, blink-and-you-miss-it crime au
Permission to remix: Please ask
Title from “Ghost in the Machine” by SZA ft. Phoebe Bridgers

***

The prodigal son returns from Seoul to muted fanfare and furtive rumors, the whispers and cigarette smoke drifting to Wonwoo’s office from the lounge, where the men have nothing better to do than gossip as they wait for the hyungnim’s next orders. They discuss in hushed tones how Seoul had chewed him up and spit him out like so many other starry-eyed hopefuls— why was he cavorting around Seoul anyways when he was old enough to inherit the family business— evidently, prancing around on stage in tights was more important to him than listening to his old man. The men chortle at the last statement, braying with laughter until Wonwoo opens his office door and lobs a stapler at the center table.

“Settle down,” he commands, and the men grumble but they do quiet down. No use in upsetting the hyungnim’s accountant.

Wonwoo doesn’t see him until later, when the novelty of being gawked at has worn off and Chan’s waved off the reunions and curious onlookers. Chan announces his presence by slamming the door to Wonwoo’s office open, rattling the frames on the wall and toppling files from Wonwoo’s desk. Sheets of paper flutter to the floor while the newly gutted folders lie limp on the ground. Chan stands in the door frame in his tailored black coat like a reaper ready to collect, the corner of his lips tilting upwards as he notices the destruction.

“Son of a bitch,” Wonwoo hisses, reaching a hand out to try to salvage a stack of paper before it topples over. Chan crosses the room, paper gracelessly crinkling beneath his soles, and swings himself up to sit on the desk in one fluid motion. The stack of paper falls.

“You’re working hard, seonsaengnim,” he says as Wonwoo halfheartedly swats at his legs, attempting to shoo him off his desk.

“You menace,” Wonwoo says, resigning himself to not getting any work done while Chan’s here. Chan’s grin just grows larger, a manic delight in his expression.

“How’s work?” Chan asks. “My dad not keeping you too busy, I hope?”

Wonwoo tries to stifle his laughter, but to no avail. Chan’s eyes sharpen at the sound. “It was better before you came in and messed up my files,” he says, gesturing to the mess of paperwork on his desk.

Chan pouts, his lower lip jutting out. “I’m so sorry,” he croons, picking up a loose sheet of paper and glancing over it. “I didn’t know that inventory statements were more exciting than me.”

Wonwoo shrugs and stays silent. Unlike his father’s puffed-up fits of bravado, Chan prefers to be economical with his displeasure; men don’t know he’s angry until there’s a bullet between their eyes. Despite the quiet danger, Chan doesn’t scare him, not really. Part of him will always be the ornery kid nursing a split lip who’d followed Wonwoo around like a bedraggled duckling as Wonwoo had prepared for college entrance exams.

Accepting the silence as an answer, Chan reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He flicks open the lid and takes one out before offering the box to Wonwoo.

“Why do you have those?” Wonwoo asks. “They ruin your lungs. I thought you needed good stamina to be a dancer.” He thinks he sees Chan’s eyes darken at the mention of dancing, but he blinks and Chan’s expression is unchanged.

Chan snorts. “Like you know anything about stamina,” he says, leering at Wonwoo, his sharp eyes sliding over Wonwoo’s ill-fitting suit, too boxy on his frame. “Lighten up, ahjussi.” He lights the cigarette and takes a drag, smoke curling out of his mouth.

“How’s Chungha?” he asks, tipping his head back and breathing out smoke. “How’s the kid?” Chan’s never had the patience for pleasantries, always preferring to cut straight to the bone.

“Hyeju’s fine,” Wonwoo says quickly.

“It’s a shame she’s not a boy.” Chan’s gaze slides over to Wonwoo. When they make eye contact, Chan grins, baring his white teeth. “Then again, maybe it’s easier that she was born with no expectations. You don’t have to waste time trying to mold her in your image if you know she’ll leave.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “You’ve been listening to your father again.”

Chan shrugs. “Maybe I’m just in a melancholy mood,” he says. “There’s only so many times you can be told you’re a fuck up before you start to wonder.”

He turns his head to give Wonwoo his full attention, his coy gaze failing to hide the intensity in his eyes. The singular focus pins Wonwoo in place, unable to look away. “Care to take my mind off it?”

Wonwoo pointedly ignores how tactless the proposition is and instead leans in, letting Chan pull him in by his tie. His lips taste like nicotine and Wonwoo’s already thinking about how to wash the scent of cigarettes out of his clothes because he knows Chungha doesn’t like the smell and he had promised to quit when Hyeju was born—

Chan bites down on his lower lip, drawing blood, and then there are no thoughts.

the judas kiss

[seokmin_liker]

Ship/Member: any
Major Tags: n/a
Additional Tags: i betrayed you because i want you to know how much i love you, religious guilt not necessary but would be nice
Do Not Wants: major character death

Prompt:

JESUS: Where’s your heart in all this, Judas? You think you were with me for any other reason than that?! It was your heart, Judas. You were all heart. You were my heart! Don’t you know that?!
[...]
JUDAS: You forgave Peter and bullshit Thomas — you knocked Paul of Tarsus off a horse — you raised Lazarus from the fuckin’ dead — but me? Me? Your “heart”?! … What about me?! What about me, Jesus?! Huh?! You just, you just — I made a mistake! And if that was wrong, then you should have told me! And if a broken heart wasn’t sufficient reason to hang, THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME THAT TOO!

- The Last Days of Judas Iscariot, Stephen Adly Guirgis

the sixth love language is combat

[soupblog]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: (all just for insp, go wild if u want!) pacrim!au?? apocalypse!au? it's ur city now, stabbing is romantic, not enemies to lovers but enemies AND lovers
Do Not Wants: nsfw/smut

Prompt:

“I killed a plant once because I gave
it too much water. Lord, I worry
that love is violence.”

― José Olivarez, Citizen Illegal

[FILL] burn it down

[lachrymosy]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Minghao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Avatar: The Last Airbender AU; violence (war)
Permission to remix: Yes

***


At dawn, Mingyu comes across a body.

Yesterday this was a town: square brick houses inside a set of white stone walls. Today he walks through a smoldering wasteland, wreckage of a Fire Nation battalion who took no prisoners and let it all burn.

But there is a body: bony, malnourished. Alive.

Mingyu stops and kneels beside the boy. He looks no older than Mingyu, and he’s badly burned. He may not live through the night, may not live another hour.

Mingyu lifts him up anyway, and carries him away.

—-

The boy lives. He says his name is Myungho with sharp eyes that focus on the fire in the hearth, which makes Mingyu wonder if he’s lying, but he decides not to press the question. After weeks of silence, he’s just glad to hear Myungho’s voice.

His burns are deep and angry red, in spite of the salves Mingyu applies liberally every few hours. But he begins to eat, and if nothing else, he listens to Mingyu talk.

“My friends wanted to go to Ba Sing Se,” Mingyu explains, picturing their faces. “I wanted to go home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Pohuai,” Mingyu answers.

“It’s under occupation.”

Mingyu scowls. “I know.”

“Why go back, then?”

Mingyu looks over at the boy in bandages and says, “I had to see what was left.”

—-

A few weeks go by. An Earth Kingdom battalion passes by a few miles away. Mingyu goes through the forest to look at them march, unwilling to show himself. He would enlist if it weren’t for his own mission, or for the boy currently asleep in the abandoned house where they’ve been squatting for the past month. In the sunlight, the soldiers’ uniforms ripple like green blades of grass in the wind.

“We need to move,” Mingyu says when he returns to the house.

“Why?”

“Why? We’re in a war zone, Myungho.”

Myungho looks at him with a vague scowl. “Everywhere is a war zone. The Fire Nation wants everything.”

Mingyu looks at him carefully. Scarred and thin, Myungho’s body is a symbol of the Fire Nation’s ravenous bloodthirst. He looks back at Mingyu, defiant. Unbending.

“Even so,” Mingyu says, “I’d like to live another day.”

—-

“My mother taught me to earthbend,” Mingyu says, gesturing to the shelter overhead. Rain patters against the roof, but inside, they are warm and dry.

“What happened to her?”

“She died in the siege,” Mingyu answers. He tries not to think of those weeks, the sky red with ash and smoke while he waited in his home, too young to fight but old enough to want to. “A Fire Nation soldier killed her with two hands. Like a demon.”

Myungho says nothing for a moment, staring into the campfire. “And your father?”

“Starved to death during the occupation,” Mingyu says bitterly. He throws the bones of their dinner into the flames. “Didn’t even know until it was too late that he was giving me and my sister all his rations.”

“What about her?”

“She’s why I have to go back to Pohuai,” Mingyu admits. “I have to try to find her.”

He’d still been a child when Seungcheol knocked on his door and asked him if he wanted to fight, murder in his eyes. Mingyu hadn’t hesitated to walk out the door, only glancing back to tell his sister to stay with their aunt, he’d be home soon. Five years later and Seungcheol’s Freedom Fighters turned out to be a big joke. Kids couldn’t win wars. No matter how violently they fought.

“I hope you do,” Myungho says, quiet.

“What about you?” Mingyu asks.

Myungho shakes his head. “I don’t have anyone,” he says. Mingyu hears horrors unknown in the silence that follows.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, putting his hand on Myungho’s shoulder. “You have me now.”

He grins. After a moment Myungho looks back at him, firelight reflected in his eyes, and almost smiles.

—-

A week later they come upon the rubble of a town. Charred beams of burned down houses stand like needles piercing the gray sky. Skeletons rest in the ash. Above the town flies a Fire Nation flag, red as blood.

“I hate them,” Mingyu breathes out, his voice hoarse. His hands curl into fists and he feels the ground beneath his feet tremble under the weight of his rage. “I hate them all.”

Myungho says nothing, silently surveying the remains before them.

“Are they monsters?” Mingyu asks. “How could anyone do this?”

When Myungho speaks, his voice is as dry as ash. “Most of them are just following orders,” he says. “That might be the worst part of all.”

—-

They make camp ten miles outside of Pohuai. Mingyu is on edge, nervous to be so close to home and yet uncertain of what he will find. He doesn’t light a fire and they sit in the dark under the shelter of a hole Mingyu cracks in a boulder. With his back against the earth, Mingyu lets himself breathe.

“Myungho,” he says into the dark, “will you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Myungho answers. “I’ll stay with you to the end.”

A while later Mingyu wakes to the smell of smoke and the crackling of fire in the sky.

He leaps to his feet, barely awake but moving on instinct. Soldiers advance like ghosts, their flames catching on the dry branches of surrounding trees and grass. Suddenly Mingyu stands in a circle of fire, Fire Nation soldiers cutting off every possible escape, and he realizes he is going to die.

He digs his feet into the earth and feels its familiar tremor in his bones. “Myungho,” he says quietly, “it’s been a good run.”

He feels Myungho approach his side. In his peripheral vision he sees Myungho’s scarred hand reach up to grip his shoulder.

“You’re not done yet,” Myungho whispers.

With a shout, the soldiers throw fire toward them. Before Mingyu can move, Myungho jumps in front of him.

He catches all the flames in his hands.

Myungho blazes, a comet rising from the earth. Mingyu watches in horror as Myungho turns to look at him, his face lit up like the sun.

“Xu Minghao?” cries one of the soldiers.

Minghao, a demon in the night, burns bright.

Oh...

[soupblog]

Ship/Member: any, but consider seokmin/any...
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse, friends to lovers, a classic 'oh' moment
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

And though it's very true that I love everyone
With every ounce of energy left in me
I love you especially

Alphabetizing by The Mountain Goats

[FILL] SIP IT SLOWLY AND PAY ATTENTION

[wonwoo420]

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

***
sorrey i got a lil carried away ao3

hair washing is romantic

[soupblog]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: washing someone's hair for them is the most intimate thing in the world, non sexual intimacy, acts of service as a love language
Do Not Wants: nsfw/smut(it's about the non sexual intimacy!!)

Prompt:

"I will wash your hair at night
And dry it off with care
I will see your body bare
And still I will live here",

I Will by Mitski

[FILL] i’ll be brave

[kwontent]

Ship/Member: joshua/minghao
Major Tags: post-surgery grease, nonbinary minghao, hair stylist joshua
Additional Tags: cw for surgery talk and trans characters
Permission to remix: ask!

***


Minghao isn’t allowed to lift their arms above their head for a full week.

They make do, mostly because Mingyu was nice enough to come by before their surgery and help them take everything in the kitchen off the shelves and put it on the floor. Minghao doesn’t have much.

Still, stepping into their little kitchen and dodging bowls and plates is funny enough to balance out how annoying it is. They squat down, retrieving a tea strainer and a little mug.

Minghao’s legs are getting very strong. Their chest, recently, has become very flat.

The healing process isn’t that intense. They’re told to sleep sitting up, not to lift anything, and to avoid getting their scars wet. It hurts, of course, but Minghao knew it would. That’s pretty much all they were prepared for—how much it would hurt.

The pain is secondary right now, a dull ache. What’s more important is the feeling of flat, greasy hair prickling the nape of their neck. It feels disgusting, so tangled Minghao can’t even run their fingers through it.

They stand at their little sink and sip their tea, something bitter to help with inflammation and swelling. They think about calling their mom. She was adamant about coming out to help while they’re healing up, but Minghao refused. Tickets were expensive, and Minghao lives in a tiny studio. They’d be tripping over her and the bowls.

Minghao settles for the next best thing. Facetimes Joshua.

“How do you feel about making a house call?” they ask.

On their screen, Joshua’s face is very smooth. He looks a little lost but then he smiles. “What are you looking to get done?”

“I just need someone to wash it,” Minghao says quietly. “It’s getting gross.”

Joshua nods. “I can do that, sure.”

—

Joshua shows up armed with a plastic bowl and some nice-smelling hair stuff.

“It’s tea tree oil,” he says, holding out the bottle for Minghao to waft into their nose. “Clarifying.”

Minghao would like some clarity. Maybe that would help them out a little bit.

They help Joshua fill the tiny tub in their bathroom and think about how they’re supposed to be happy right now. Finally done with the hard part, the expensive and relentless push and push and push until they woke up, chest flat.

And, and they are happy, but happy is a secondary emotion compared to the insistent edge of how fucking gross they feel. They didn’t read that on the forums—the post-surgery layer of grime that will cover you until you can finally get in the shower more than a week later.

Joshua isn’t the type of guy to offer help, but he’s always happy to help when asked. Minghao likes people like that. Likes how Joshua will do anything with a smile. It’s different from what they’re used to—Joshua understands how they like to be left alone sometimes.

But Joshua comes when he’s called.

“Alright,” Joshua tests the temperature of the water in the tub one last time before nodding at Minghao. “Ready for you whenever.”

Minghao sits on the toilet to begin the lengthy process of getting out of their binder. It hurts, the way they have to contort their arms to get the thing off. Underneath, there’s some steri-tape and some goo and oh, they definitely smell a little. Minghao wrinkles their nose but Joshua doesn’t react. He averts his eyes, keeps them on the bathwater.

Minghao wants him to look. Wants someone to see it for what it is—gross, but something new, something better. Wants someone to see the evidence of wanting something so bad, the evidence of Minghao’s determination.

“You can look,” they say. “There’s nothing there anymore.”

Joshua’s eyes slide over to their face. He’s a little awkward about it, but his eyes rove over their chest anyway.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

“It’s sore,” Minghao replies truthfully. “When I move my arms. But I’m mostly bothered by the smell.”

“Mm. I can’t smell anything,” Joshua lies.

Minghao giggles. “Liar.”

“I’m trying to be polite.”

“I haven’t showered in a week, I know I smell,” Minghao says, their back cracking as they finally free their arms from the binder. “But this will help. Thanks, again.”

Joshua waves a hand, still looking a little awkward.

Minghao slides to the floor a little too fast and hisses when something pulls deep in their skin.

“Oh, hey, careful,” Joshua says, his hands hovering.

Minghao smiles and shuffles over to the tub on their knees. Joshua clears back to make space for them and gently helps them tilt their head forward.

Minghao takes a deep breath, one that fills their lungs all the way up, and then dips their face into the water.

It’s warm and clean. Minghao feels like crying.

“I’m going to start getting your hair wet,” Joshua says, one hand gentle on Minghao’s shoulder as he leans over to grab a bowl from the side of the tub.

His hand is strong.

Minghao sighs when they start to feel the water trickle onto their scalp, running behind their ears and down their bare back and over their shoulders and it’s like coming up for air.

Joshua methodically soaks their hair. It feels like too much to ask someone to do, all of a sudden. Like Minghao underestimated how it would feel to have Joshua do this. It feels like something you’d do for someone you love.

And it’s not that Minghao doesn’t love Joshua. They love all their friends. But this is way more intimate than anything they’ve ever done before. Joshua isn’t a fair-weather friend, but he’s definitely not the one Minghao would call in a crisis.

This isn’t a crisis though; this feels like a baptism.

Once their hair is thoroughly soaked, Joshua has to crowd against them to start to shampoo, his legs pressed against Minghao’s side.

“Ah, you’ll get wet,” Minghao says.

“It’s okay,” Joshua murmurs, his fingers pressing light to their scalp. Minghao sucks in another breath and Joshua pauses. “Does it hurt?” he asks again.

“Keep going,” Minghao says quickly.

Joshua’s fingers scrub, hard enough to scratch, and Minghao loves it. Feels clean for the first time in years, somehow. The shampoo smells fresh and herbaceous and a little minty, zinging against their scalp.

For a minute it’s quiet, just the gentle zz-zz-zz of Joshua’s fingers in their hair. He finds a knot at the base of Minghao’s neck and calmly combs through it with his fingers, stinging slightly.

Minghao breathes through it.

Then comes the water again, spilling over their head, so warm. It feels so good, Minghao gasps. Embarrassing. Joshua doesn’t make any noise, just keeps rinsing the shampoo from their hair.

“Can we turn you over?” he asks politely. “So I can get your hairline?”

“Um.” Minghao isn’t really sure how that will work. “I think you’d have to support my head, since my arms are useless.”

“That’s alright,” Joshua says. “Let’s get you flipped over.”

Minghao rotates slowly, until they’re sitting with their back to the low wall of the tub.

“We’re both going to get wet,” they argue uselessly.

“That’s okay,” Joshua says again. “I brought a change of clothes.”

One strong hand cups Minghao’s head, right where their neck curves. Joshua’s slippery fingers slide behind Minghao’s ear, making them fidget. They feel very held, something squirming in their stomach.

Minghao wishes they put on music before, to cover up the way their breathing has changed, gone all funny.

With his other hand, Joshua tips the water over Minghao’s hairline. It trails over Minghao’s face, catching on their eyelashes and pooling in the divot above their lip. Joshua puts the bowl down and swipes uselessly at their face.

“It’s much easier in the salon,” he sighs out, oblivious to the spiritual experience Minghao is having. The water soaks them both, hot and then cold. Joshua pours the water back over their scalp, running his fingers through the strands until all the suds are gone.

One more bowl. Minghao shivers again, sure that their face is red.

Joshua pets them again, his hand soft and tender.

“We can do the conditioner now,” he says quietly. “And maybe a detangle?”

Minghao is beyond words, so they just nod. Tries to relax back into Joshua’s grip as he moves them, repositioning them so he can comb the conditioner into their hair, hands strong and sure.

Minghao likes it. Maybe that’s it, actually. Maybe it’s that Minghao likes it, being taken care of like this. Likes that Joshua is the one to do it. Likes feeling clean in his arms.

They’ll ask him again, sometime, for the type of help he can provide.

Jihoon......Circles........

[soupblog]

Ship/Member: Jihoon centric, could be gen or Jihoon/any!!
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse, thinking about jihoon crying while talking about circles and saying it has things he wants to say to wonwoo and the rest of the members...
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

"'Cause it's so easy
To say it to a crowd
But it's so hard, my love
To say it to you out loud"

No Light, No Light by Florence + the Machine

i've lived without you once before

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: maybe unwilling/one-sided soulmates or unrequited love with one obliviously flirting and the other being tortured by it, praying to not meet in the next lifetime
Do Not Wants: i would rather you didn't go the actual MCD route with this! but the idea of welcoming death as relief is fine

Prompt:

We don't, we don't have to do this again
Please don't, please don't make me start this again
It was only ever you
It was only ever you, my baby
It feels like a lifetime
Oh god, I don't think I could do two

- Afterlife, Nothing But Thieves

you got your secrets, baby, i don't care

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Any, Seungkwan/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: post-disbandment, cisswap would be nice because the song is abt lesbians but it's not necessary, digging up old wounds and trying to light flames that have gone out
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

If you want me, honey, I don't wanna know
If you're thinking, babe, you gotta let it go
If you're feeling sorry, I don't wanna know
If you think about me, baby, then don't

- Saved, Now, Now

burn bright

[tenjouh]

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

Prompt:

I know my existence is temporary and so is yours
But god, please, as much as I love the stars they don't last forever
I don't mind being temporary as long as it means I'm temporary with you
I would paint a hundred more stars in the sky if it meant you never burnt out

-ambsthom on tumblr

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Lee Seokmin/Yoon Jeonghan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: mcd

Prompt:

Please be careful what you say
'Cause if I split in two you will be to blame
'Cause I know nothing better and nothing worse
And how you twist your letters into words
Slowly lie to me
Like I need you to do when you tell the truth
And tell me what to believe, and tell me what to deny
And whisper into my ear till everything dark turns bright

- Slowly, Son Lux

[FILL]: it's easy to lie

[slytherminie]

Ship/Member: jeonghan/seokmin
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: lies, emotional manipulation, gaslighting kind of, loveless relationship, jeonghan lies and lies and doesn't know how to do anything else but lie
Permission to remix: yep go for it

***

It’s easy to lie to Seokmin—he laps all of Jeonghan’s words up like food out of a dog bowl, eager to believe in everything Jeonghan tells him, in every little intricacy crafted just for him from Jeonghan’s sharp mind, his lies curling around Seokmin’s wrists like cuffs that keep him tied to Jeonghan’s side.

It’s easy to lie to Seokmin—if anything, because Seokmin could never recognize the truth, not when all he’s been fed for the entirety of their relationship have been pretty lies wrapped in cotton candy to mask the bitter taste of them and make them easier to swallow.

It’s easy to lie to Seokmin—especially when he’s the one begging to be lied to, asking questions to Jeonghan that he perfectly knows Jeonghan will have no truthful answers for.

“Will we last forever?” he asks, eyes wide and begging, one knee on the ground, a golden band in a velvet case open in front of Jeonghan’s well-crafted mask of surprise. He found the ring two months ago in the pocket of one of Seokmin’s coats, and now he’s pretending he never saw it before. Just another lie added to the pile. “Will you be my husband?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan says, to both, smiling his pretty smile and forcing his eyes to water by biting on his own tongue. The shiny ring is on his finger, and Seokmin is beaming at him with the force of a thousand suns, eyes crinkling up in delight.

It’s easy to lie to Seokmin—fuck him at night, in their shared bed, and let I love yous slip through his lips as if they came pouring out of his heart and not forced through gritted teeth in an imitation of real affection, one that faded long ago.

It’s easy to lie to Seokmin—caress his hair and kiss his forehead, wishing him to sleep peacefully so that he can sneak out of their bed and drown his misery in a glass of soju that he shares with his own reflection and the city lights shining through the windows, flickers of happiness that Jeonghan shapes so that Seokmin’s smile can glisten on his face once more, even if he dies inside, even if his own happiness flickers and turns to dust.

It’s easy to lie to Seokmin—because inventing a world where they’re happy, where everything is bright and beautiful for them, is easier than admitting that Jeonghan can’t love Seokmin the way he would like to be loved.

“Will you take this man as your husband?” someone asks, a faceless person that Jeonghan doesn’t even look once at, focused as he is at the bright grin on his soon-to-be-husband’s face. It’s easy to lie. “Yes.”

Seokmin kisses him like he always does, with the transport and the abandon of a man lost at sea looking for something to keep him afloat, and Jeonghan catches him before he can fall too deeply, pretending that the dread he’s feeling inside his stomach are butterflies and not the doom of a marriage that feels like a prison before it even begins.

It’s easy to lie to Seokmin—they hold hands as their friends throw confetti and shouts of joy at them, and it’s so easy to craft a mask of pure happiness on his face, since he’s been doing it for so long, since it’s the only thing Jeonghan is really able to do.

It’s easy to lie to Seokmin—because all in all Jeonghan is selfish, and he’d rather sacrifice his and Seokmin’s happiness than see him in the arms of someone else.

It’s easy to lie to Seokmin—it’s always been.

if this was meant for me, why does it hurt so much

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: any but consider dino
Major Tags: MCD??
Additional Tags: the sea, the betrayal of being someone's closest friend and finding out after their death that they were keeping secrets from even you, grieving and remembering and rage at being left behind
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

[A knock at my door / I thought I was alone
Unaware of what I thought I needed / I dropped like a stone
If I'm not mistaken, then I was the last to know
And if you return for me, I'd never want for more

...

You're dislocated / don't be like that
And you smile when you dive in / like you're never coming back
So hold my body / yeah, hold my breath
See your face when I black out
I'm never coming back
]

- Fear of the Water, SYML

[FILL] left behind

[soupblog]

Ship/Member: Chan centric, Wonchan but their relationship is up to interpretation
Major Tags: MCD
Additional Tags: freeform, grief, being left behind, slight existentialism
Permission to remix: Yes

***

The funniest part of all this is that Chan can’t swim.

He never learned how to swim. Maybe that’s why Wonwoo never told him about this. It would be a stupid reason, but at least it’d be a reason; at least there’d be a reason. Right now there isn’t one.

Chan is standing on a beach, and he’s looking up at a little house on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean, and the keys are in his left hand, and the right one is holding the box with Wonwoo’s ashes. And it’s his house, and the ashes– well, they don’t really belong to anyone, and soon he won’t even have those to hold onto. He’ll just have a set of keys and a stupid house.

He walks down the beach until he gets to a path that winds up along the cliff side, tufts of grass sticking out and making it wobbly and uncertain, and Chan has to spend a long time trying to find a way to get to the house without falling to his death, which is sort of funny too. It would be pretty funny if he died trying to complete Wonwoo’s last wish, wouldn’t it?

Was Wonwoo trying to be funny? Was that the reason? Chan doesn’t think so. Wonwoo had made some bad jokes in their time together, but he didn’t make a lot of jokes about death.

No, there must be something else.

Chan is at the house now. It’s small, and painted blue, and the roof tiles are covered in moss, and it’s… it’s nice. Chan can tell why Wonwoo would like this. Quiet, far away from everything, and small enough that it’s cozy but not cramped.

There’s only two rooms; a combined bedroom, living room, kitchen, and study, and a bathroom. The furniture is unassuming, but it’s all so… Wonwoo. Wonwoo is everywhere. The pillows on the bed are the same ones Wonwoo had at his flat, and the throw blanket is the same brand, and the kitchen is full of food Wonwoo used to eat.

Okay, maybe it is a joke. A cruel joke, but a joke nonetheless.

Chan sits down on the edge of the bed and places the box next to him, and he pulls out the letter Wonwoo had left him again. It’s wrinkled and worn and in some places the ink is already starting to fade from how many times Chan has run his fingers over the words.

He skips over the first part– he’s memorized it long ago anyway. He goes to the part about the house on the cliff and the ocean. Wonwoo’s voice is in his head as he reads, rattling around like a corpse in a casket.

‘I never told you, but I bought a little house. I would’ve liked to have taken you there, I think, but it’s too late for that sort of thing now. I’ve kept it from you for too long, and now I don’t know how to say it. So I’m writing it instead.

You might be wondering why I didn’t tell you in the first place, and the truth is that I wanted something that was my own. I hope that makes sense to you. I wanted something that was mine, a place I could go to escape– yes, even you. Sometimes I needed to escape from you too. Or maybe I was just trying to escape myself; who knows. Sometimes I think you’re more myself than I am.’

Chan crumples the paper up again and throws it across the room. It bounces harmlessly off the wall and falls onto the floor. There’s tears stinging at the backs of Chan’s eyes, and he glares at the box angrily, like if he looks at it hard enough Wonwoo is going to come out of it and make all of this okay.

Maybe Wonwoo would even give him a reason. Chan is still having a hard time deciding on one.

He picks up the box and slides the lid off, and he takes the urn out, and he goes outside again– the wind has picked up significantly. He walks right up to the edge, and he’s hugging the urn to his chest, and he wants something to make sense, anything would do.

And Chan screams. It’s not horror movie screaming, not high pitched and loud, but guttural and so loud it’s quiet, so loud that no noise comes out other than choked syllables, and the wind carries all of it away, out over the ocean. It doesn’t help.

Wonwoo is still dead and Chan still has to pour what’s left of him into the ocean.

He removes the lid with shaky hands, and he holds out the urn in front of him, and he tries– he really tries to flip it over and let the contents out, but he can’t do it. He stands there with his arms stretched out in front of him until his muscles start screaming at him, and so instead he pulls the urn back and he sits down on the grass, cradling it in his arms.

If there were any tears left in him this is where he’d cry, but he’s cried so much that there’s nothing left. He chokes out dry sobs, and he screams again, and the wind takes all of it, and the ocean keeps crashing against the foot of the cliff, and nothing changes. Or it changes so slowly that Chan will never get to see it. Everything changes. Someone always leaves first.

Chan wishes he’d been the one to leave first. He doesn’t know how to do this. There isn’t even a reason. He wishes there was a reason.

He sits there for a long time before he finally gets back up and stretches his arms out again, and this time– this time he tips out the contents before he can think better of it. The ashes dump unceremoniously and ungraciously into the air and are carried off by the wind, out over the ocean, and it’s anti-climatic, and why is death so quiet? Why is being left behind so loud?

Chan storms back into the house and slams the door, and he puts the urn down carefully, and then he kicks the brick fireplace and possibly stubs his toe. He hobbles backwards until he stumbles into the bed, and he kicks his shoes off because he remembers how Wonwoo hated when he’d keep his shoes on inside, and he takes off his jacket because he remembers Wonwoo saying that he didn’t want outside clothes on his bed.

And Chan lies down in Wonwoo’s bed, and the sheets still smell like him, and he lies there alone until eventually he falls asleep. When he wakes up he’s still alone, and he’s not sure what time it is. It’s fine. No one’s expecting him to be at work anyway.

There’s not one bone or muscle in his body that isn’t aching. Why is death painless and being left behind so painful?

Why isn’t there a reason?

wasn't it always the two of us

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: orpheus and eurydice but in a modern/urban setting, choosing love over money (or not)
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

[Hey, little songbird, let me guess
He's some kind of poet? And he's penniless?
Give him your hand, he'll give you his hand-to-mouth
He'll write you a poem when the power's out
Hey, why not fly south for the winter?]

- Hey, Little Songbird from Hadestown

Re: wasn't it always the two of us

[oransodacan]

no, you don't understand how many nights I stay up thinking about Dokey & Joshy as Hadestown' Orpheus and Eurydice........... this is horrible....

migratory bird caw caw

[lightreframe]

Ship/Member: Any, but if possible, wonhoon, or seokhoon... or seoksoon, really. the choice is urs!
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: the feeling of That First Meeting. please read the entire text tbh its... something...
Do Not Wants:

Prompt:

I have never kissed a boy in the rain. These are the smallest
things. I wake up in another country and my hands are cold
and I will never understand how to live like this. / Questions with no answers. The right way
to accept an offering.

— Talin Tahajian, Open letter to the boy with the red umbrella

since i've been above you, seen and loved you so

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: gyuhao or seokhao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: domesticity, not necessarily marriage but something like it, reminiscing on the honeymoon phase and rekindling the flame. lesbians would be nice but i'm not picky
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Waking before you / I've got a fever and a childish wish for snow
Seems like a long, long time / since I spun you to this borrowed radio
You pick a place that's where I'll be / Time like your cheek has turned for me

- Someday the Waves, Iron & Wine

we are in the backseat of a car

[(Anonymous)]

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

Prompt:

“why does so much love come at the beginning then disappear then once again at the moment before death”
— Victoria Chang, from “Mr. Darcy”

there's a tunnel under ocean's blvd

[17minutes]

Ship/Member: anyone/joshua
Major Tags: n/a
Additional Tags: n/a
Do Not Wants: none

Prompt:

When's it gonna be my turn?
Don't forget me
When's it gonna be my turn?
Open me up, tell me you like me
Fuck me to death, love me until I love myself

- did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd, lana del rey