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

i still forget we’re not even friends

[kwontent]

Ship/Member: anyone but wouldn’t gyuboo be sooooo evil?
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I still wake up
with thing to
tell you

- trista mateer

+

Prompt:

Everything I’ve ever
let go of has
claw marks on it

- david foster wallace (i know)

Sleeping Beauty

[thisisrose]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Seungkwan or Minghao pov if possible?
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Oh they’re hopeless. A true disgrace for the forces of evil.

Sleeping Beauty original Disney film

(Check this gif out for visual ref? https://at.tumblr.com/ladygraciousrose/704742349915439104/8ftv5ygt5b3o )

who am I, if not exploited?

[lachrymosy]

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

Prompt:

The truth, of course, is that if people really were as happy as they look on the Internet, they wouldn’t spend so much damn time on the Internet, because no one who’s having a really good day spends half of it taking pictures of themselves. Anyone can nurture a myth about their life if they have enough manure, so if the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence, that’s probably because it’s full of shit.

– Anxious People by Fredrik Backman

&

All I did was try my best
This the kind of thanks I get?
Unrelentlessly upset
They say these are the golden years
But I wish I could disappear
Ego crush is so severe
God, it's brutal out here

–"Brutal," Olivia Rodrigo

Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain

[thisisrose]

Ship/Member: Applicable to anyone but can I put in an honourable mention for Chan, Jun, Vernon or Joshua?
Major Tags: Any
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: Death, post group dissolution or the dissolution of said group

Prompt:

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

- John Keats

a confession

[kwontent]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: heist or idolverse “Seventeen Take A Lie Detector Test”
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

they will hook me up to a polygraph and ask me if I love you and I will say no but the needle will jump and sputter exactly how you laugh

- ARealLiveGhost on twitter

[FILL] the kwonfession (untrademarked)

[lightreframe]

Ship/Member: Soonyoung/Seokmin
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Ambiguous Relationships (theyre not defined beforehand), Introspection (my favourite kind of soonyoung), Fluff, Idiots (fond) In Love except they dont know, Idolverse
Permission to remix: Yes

play on ur username is also intentional… i hope this satisfied Something???

ur prompt + from asofterworld.com : there are some secrets / i will take to my grave / but i dont want loving you / to be one of them [a recurring theme in my works tbh Its A Crazy Experience]

***

This is not the way Soonyoung expects his confession to go.

The idea is simple: take turns getting hooked up to a polygraph, getting asked some questions. (ex. in Seungcheol's instance: do you like living with the members? Did you eat samgyeopsal without me?)

It's Seokmin's turn to ask a question now. The room goes quiet. Like he's going to say something pivotal.

"Hyung. Do you love me?"

All of a sudden, this feels like a really, really bad idea. Wrong question to ask, really: it should be how much do you love me?

There's many things that feel like this. Push-and-pull. Desire, and the fear of it.

Cameras bore into him like bullets on a daily basis, the glares of higher ups—approving and not, the scrutiny of people on the internet even more so, and this: the soft way Seokmin looks at him—now, even back then.

Anticipatory. His polygraph so incoherent and messy it could be words bleeding into paper. There's just—no easy way to say I love you I loved you when we woke Chan and Jihoon up in the dorms I loved you when you called me yeobo for the skits I loved you when you cooked for me I—

"No." Soonyoung says—the truth lies, just in the way he can feel the polygraph spike under his skin. Seokmin sheds a fake tear. A prodding needle. Are you going to keep this to yourself, forever? The thread threatens to undo itself, to remove all methods of inhibition, to burst out in something more than bashful secrecy.

Wants to learn an easy way to say what he means. It never works, still. He scrunches his nose to await the inevitable.

"That's a lie," the man manning the polygraph says. He meets Seokmin's eye and hopes the message is conveyed.

(He's met with a welcoming grin. Whatever that means.)

📈

"Ah, hyung. I can't believe after years of Seoksoon-Talk, you've decided to betray me, like this." Seokmin cards his fingers through Soonyoung's hair. "Should I revoke jagiya rights from you, now?"

They're lying, back to front, in the bathtub of their hotel room. Joshua is out with Seungcheol. They have all the time in the world, like this.

His heart beats as Seokmin chuckles at his own joke, lathering the shampoo into Soonyoung's newly bleached hair; yellow and bright and so perfect.

"I lied then, though. You know I love you~"

Their legs tangled underneath the water, Seokmin's presence is an overwhelming comfort. Perhaps, it is this light that bursts through the seams, all-pervading, intangible and still present.

Seokmin holds a hand over Soonyoung's heart and kisses his hair.

(He forgets there is shampoo in it.)

(Soonyoung tries to wash it off. There's definitely soap swallowed in the process.)

(Don't tell Seokmin, but Soonyoung would kiss him to remove the alkaline taste of soap from his mouth. Totally not for exploration. They can become alkaline soap-mouthed buds. Best buds'.)

[ghostscissoring]

Ship/Member: wonu/any or any/any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: doppelgangers, spending years pining after someone who suddenly starts loving you back, except you think it might not be them anymore
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

"'Like' and 'like' and 'like' -- but what is the thing that lies beneath the semblance of the thing?"

- Virginia Woolf

Perspective

[thisisrose]

Ship/Member: Joshua
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Optional to put a focus on religion or make this about a relationship/the company/whatever
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

From « Life is but a weaving » by Corrie Ten Bloom

Image

[thisisrose]

Ship/Member: Minghao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: The burden of image
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me

From « Warning » by Jenny Joseph

Adoration

[thisisrose]

Ship/Member: (I think a jeonghan relationship would be really good here for reasons but that’s just my thought!)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I throw my passport in the sea,
And name you my country,
I throw all of my dictionaries in the fire,
And name you my language

— Nizar Qabbani

And

And if the devil was ever to see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent

—Farouk Jwaydeh

Pitch Perfect

[thisisrose]

Ship/Member: Vocal Unit / rap unit doing something new
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

High notes can smell fear so you aint gonna be able to play them well unless you act like its no big deal

Frenchhornsandunicorns on Tumblr

this is my life in a box

[harbourdreams]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: reconnecting after years of lost contact, mutual unresolved feelings, "my life has gone to shit since we last saw each other and i wonder what you think of me", could be a non-idol au or post-disbandment canon compliant
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

This is my life in pieces
This is my life in a box
I can give you time if you need it
Take a look around, mind the socks

[...]

And now you're here, looking so lovely
My breath smells of beer and I'm first thing ugly
Maybe we rushed this, maybe it's too soon
Maybe I fucked this. Do you think I'm a loser?

— from Life in a Box by Raleigh Ritchie

[FILL] maybe it's too soon

[aenia]

Ship/Member: Soonyoung/Chan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: meeting again, seventeen never got to debut, chan owns a dance studio, hoshi is a choreographer at pledis, feeling alienated in your hometown, the desire to connect to something and someone you thought you lost
Permission to remix: yes!
WC: 1.7k

***

The music fades out and for a moment the only sound in the studio is Chan’s rapid breaths. Then the song loops again. His aching muscles jump, reacting to the beat on instinct, but he can’t get his legs to move. He sinks to the floor, slowly. The crooked clock on the wall tells him he’s been at it for almost three hours. Ten, if he counts the seven hours of dance classes he’s taught earlier.

Sweat drips into his eyes, and Chan pushes his hair back. He should go shower, eat something, go to sleep.

Chan gets up and walks over to his phone on shaky legs. The phone almost slips and falls when he tries to turn off the music. Not that it really matters. The screen is already cracked.

In his exhausted daze it takes a moment for Chan to realise that someone’s knocking at the door. It’s almost midnight. Chan hopes it’s not a noise complaint. He’d tried to keep the music down, but the walls of the studios are thin and old.

He looks around to see if there’s a fresh shirt or sweater he could pull over, but another impatient knock makes him hurry to the door.

“Hello?”

A young man stands in front of the studio, a beanie and mask covering his face. So not the police or the neighbours, Chan thinks. His heartbeat slows down a bit. It’s not one of his students either, but the eyes look oddly familiar.

It clicks the exact moment the man pulls down his mask. “Chan-ah, it really is you!”

“Soonyoung-hyung?”

They haven’t seen each other in seven years, but Soonyoung doesn’t waste a second before he wraps Chan in his arms. He smells good and warm while Chan’s all sticky and gross.

“Hyung, I’m so–” He swallows.

They haven’t seen each other in seven years, but wrapping his arms around Soonyoung’s waist still feels right. He can’t believe Soonyoung’s standing here, on the threshold of his shitty suburban dance studio, pressing his body close to Chan’s sweaty one. Soonyoung pulls away and takes another good look at Chan. For a moment Chan feels shy in his dancing clothes, his worn-out sweatpants low on his hips and his shirt plastered against his skin, but Soonyoung looks at him with a slow smile. The embarrassment in Chan’s stomach makes place for another kind of heat. Soonyoung looks appraising and getting praise from Soonyoung had always made Chan want – to try harder, to push himself more, to become better. Made him simply want, too. It seems like the years haven’t changed that.

“What are you doing–?” The here gets caught in Chan’s throat. Here in his small, little life he’s tried to build for himself with the shreds of his dreams. Here in the outskirts of Iksan, hours away from Seoul. Here in Chan’s life, again, after so many years.

It’s odd, this clash of two worlds. Chan’s not sure he likes it. He’s made a place in the past for his time in Seoul, his training days, and his failure to debut. Soonyoung belongs to this past. Chan has put all his feelings and memories of him into a box titled what if and locked it tightly away. He doesn’t try to touch it often, this tender part of his heart. It still hurts, occasionally, a dull and muted pain, a deep nostalgia for a future that hadn’t happened. And now Soonyoung’s here, real and in the flesh. Chan feels something inside of him rattle loose.

He realises that they’re still standing at the door. “Do you want to…come in?” Chan trails off. He looks over his shoulder at the studio. It’s small and in dire need of a new paint job. An uncomfortable-looking plastic chair is the only place to sit down. The mirrors are fogged up, the air in the room is probably damp and smelly.

Soonyoung moves to step inside but Chan blocks him. “You know what, I was just about to head off. How about we talk over a drink? I’ll just shower real quick.”

“Sure.” Soonyoung frowns, but he’s too polite to say anything.

***

Chan steps out, half expecting Soonyoung to have left. But he’s still here, a few steps away, talking to someone on the phone. In the yellow street light he looks older, grown-up. His shoes are nice and clean, his jacket looks expensive. He’s every bit the Seoul-boy they’d tried so hard to imitate when they were teenagers. Soonyoung says goodbye to the person on the phone, turns to Chan and smiles. For a blink, he’s a complete stranger.

(It would be easier if he were just a stranger. If they met at a bar, catching each other’s eye across the room. Then Chan could smile coyly and lean forward, drawing attention to his arms, to his chest. They’d talk and flirt and at the end of the night Chan would follow him home or to a hotel. If Soonyoung were a stranger, Chan could let himself be touched and lose himself in the feeling of skin against skin. If Soonyoung were a stranger, Chan could kiss him without regrets.)

Chan puts his key into the door, pushing his shoulder against it when it refuses to close completely.

“Is the studio yours?”

“Yeah.” Chan puts his hands in his pockets and pulls up his shoulders.

“That’s so cool! I always dreamt about opening a studio of my own.”

Chan wants to scoff. Soonyoung has choreographed for multiple A-list K-pop groups. He’s friends with all the top dancers in the industry, regularly posting practice videos with them together. Hell, Soonyoung himself is a legend in the industry. For Chan, teaching pubescent teens how to do a simple Kick Ball Change was one of his only options. When he returned from Seoul he barely finished school; he never went to college. But he knows Soonyoung is genuine with his excitement, which almost feels worse.

He puts an arm around Chan’s shoulders and pulls him close. Soonyoung’s hand finds Chan’s ear almost naturally and playfully tugs at his lobe.

“Look at you, so young and already a business owner! The girls must be all over you, hm?”

It’s an old joke between them. Chan hadn’t expected Soonyoung to bring it up again, but he gives in and plays along. He presses closer, their bodies now flushed together. It almost makes Soonyoung stumble, his breath skittering hotly across Chan’s cheek.

“Hyung,” Chan says, voice pitched low.

Soonyoung stills and looks at him, really looks at him. His eyes are dark. He seems to understand it now. They’re no longer the people they were when they were young.

It surprises Chan when Soonyoung pulls away. He’s given an opening he thought Soonyoung would take, but Soonyoung hasn’t. Cold disappointment fills his body.

“I’m hungry. And thirsty. Let’s go where we can get both a drink and a snack, hm? Hyung’s paying for the first round,” Soonyoung says.

***

Chan ends up searching for nearby bars on his phone. He picks the first one that looks halfway decent and somewhat expensive. His phone tells him it’s seven minutes away. They walk in silence. It was bound to get awkward eventually, and Chan simply hopes that Soonyoung doesn’t regret agreeing to drinks with him.

He tries to see the streets through Soonyoung’s eyes. It’s quiet and empty this late, nothing of the restless energy of Seoul. Most of the neon signs on the buildings are switched off for the night. It’s boring, it has nothing to offer.

Chan wonders what Soonyoung sees in him – twenty-three and back in his home town, living with his parents again. Chan wonders if Soonyoung is glad he pushed through and stayed at the company by any means possible. Unlike Chan, who packed his bag and went home when it became clear that they would never debut. It had been so final, so detrimental. Everything he’s worked for in the last two years slipped through his fingers and crumbled in the dust. Chan suddenly found himself empty-handed. He didn’t have a choice but to return home, and even though he swore he’d work his way up again, swore to return to Seoul again, he’s still here. He’s still fucking here.

***

“Ah!” Soonyoung points excitedly into an alley. “Forget about the bar, let’s drink there!”

Tugged between the buildings is a lone cluster of pojangmacha. Soft, warm light glows from the tents. Chan has to admit it looks cosy and lets himself be pulled along by Soonyoung. A tiny part of him whispers that Soonyoung chose it so he could make an early exit after one drink, but Chan ignores that voice. He’s too tired to have any hopes for how the night will end; he’ll just go along and see how it plays out.

Like promised, Soonyoung gets them the first round. He returns with a bottle of soju and two gimbap. Chan pours them a round. They drink. Chan pours them another round.

“Hyung, what brought you here?” Chan finally asks.

“Ah, I met one of your students. She’s a trainee at the company and she mentioned her dance teacher, a handsome young man called Lee Chan. Told me how she learned everything from him.”

Soonyoung smiles at him over the rim of his glass. Even in the dim light, Chan can see that his cheeks are already flushed red.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. It’s been so long. In the end, curiosity got the best of me,” Soonyoung continues. “I’m glad I came.”

Warmth pools in Chan’s stomach. Want and hunger and desperateness. He leans closer and smiles at Soonyoung, too. A little bit coy and cute. Soonyoung always liked it when he acted that way. If Chan plays his cards right, if he isn’t completely misreading Soonyoung, the night could go somewhere. And Chan wants a bit of Soonyoung, a bit of everything Soonyoung stands for so badly. He’s not proud of it. He’s not proud of a lot of things in his life, but if he could Soonyoung to want him, to desire him, it’d be validating. Proof that there’s still something worth wanting about him.

He reaches out for the soju bottle only to brush his fingertips against the back of Soonyoung's hand.

“I’m glad, too.”

***

a/n: sorry, this sort of got out of my hand… hope it still has some of the spirit of the original prompt and that you enjoyed reading!

like water, like air

[harbourdreams]

Ship/Member: Soonwoo
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: shared craving for freedom, shared sense of connection with the natural world; tbh i just like how these quotes mirror each other and i'm curious if anyone can make something out of it
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I started as a trainee at the age of 16 and I’ve been active as an idol till now, so I have a craving for freedom. During my debut and now, the reason why I like whales is because of the image of whales freely wandering around the wide sea. I often dream of taking a chance in a mysterious place where the overwhelming nature touches me. [...] I guess it’s because I’m a person with a lot of curiosity.

— Wonwoo 2022 Esquire, translated by wonwoosfeed. Paired with:

Q: If you were to be born again?
A: (I’d want to be) air. Without any restrictions, I’d like to live freely.

— Hoshi Carat Mag Vol. 11, translated by hoshzone.

diamond plated tension

[almondtree]

Ship/Member: any but i like to envision this with seungkwan
Major Tags: possibly nsfw
Additional Tags: i'm sorry i have no serious ideas i just think this song is really funny and i want to see someone do magic with it, maybe something silly with sk trying to make the first time having sex/trying a new sexy thing with his bf special but things keep going wrong
Do Not Wants: if you do go that route, please no unsafe sex or consent issues!

Prompt:

[We're pulling at each other like magnets / The rules are telling us to ignore them
Your moves, they're asking me for attention / Oh I'm losing it
No turning back once we're connected
No turning back once we're connected]

- Connected, by Bang Chan of Stray Kids

[FILL]: troika

[biggrstaffbunch]

Ship/Member: Seungkwan/Vernon/Mingyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: polyamory hints, nsfw, verkwan primary ship
Permission to remix: please ask!

*****

Seungkwan is not necessarily prepared to admit it out loud, but he’s had fantasies that start out this way.

Mingyu, in the front seat of the rental car they’re driving to a campground for a group getaway that won’t be filmed for once, wearing a backwards baseball hat and a tank top cut to show not only his arms but a little rounded shadow of his pecs from the side, too.

Vernon, sitting next to him, manning the auxiliary cord — a tragedy — but crooning along with the songs in a throaty, sleep-thick voice — a win! — and even though he’s wearing baggy jeans, he’s got on that t-shirt that’s a size too small, stretching out over a wide chest and broad shoulders.

And Seungkwan, sprawled in the back, lightly dozing with an iced Americano in hand, idly imagining the car breaking down and having to wait for help as the night gets colder, maybe having to huddle for warmth, maybe one thing leading to another…

The car drives over a roadbump and the coffee sloshes all over him. Seungkwan splutters awake and curses.

Mingyu and Vernon trade looks and snicker.

Seungkwan scowls.

Well. There’s a reason it’s a fantasy.

read the rest at AO3

you haven't moved on so i can't either

[stickie]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: post breakup
Additional Tags: missing someone you shouldn't
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

So, I'm missing you already, I'm sorry
So, man am I missing you already... unfair, aren't I?
So you too should quickly become someone else's boyfriend
Before I wind up calling you...

- I've Become Someone Else's Girlfriend, by wacci

everything dies in the end

[stickie]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: love doesn't last forever no matter how hard you try to pretend it does
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

No matter how much
the spring wind love
the peach blossoms,
they still fall.
—Dogen Zenji

ships passing one another in the night

[stickie]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: a snapshot in time
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Ching-Teng Ko: Do you believe in parallel universes? Maybe in that parallel universe we are together.
Chia-Yi Shen: How I envy them.

- from movie, You Are the Apple of My Eye

[FILL] darkness again

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: jeonghan/seungcheol
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: vaguely idolverse, breaking up, is it breaking up if you were never really together?
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

July 31. Twenty minutes to midnight. Jeonghan stands on the roof of a building and waits.

July 31. Fifteen minutes to midnight. Seungcheol appears like a ghost, haunting him. Drifting towards him, pulling him close. Unlike a ghost, his hands are searingly hot around Jeonghan’s waist. An anchor to this world. Maybe Jeonghan is the ghost.

Despite the summer heat, Jeonghan shivers. Seungcheol reels him in and kisses him full, kisses him breathless. Jeonghan indulges for five minutes. Ten minutes. Like he’s done so many times before, too many times before.

July 31. Five minutes until midnight. Jeonghan almost can’t muster up the strength. He thinks about the headlines (SEVENTEEN S.Coups and Jeonghan photographed kissing on a roof, SEVENTEEN S.Coups and Jeonghan embroiled in dating scandal, SEVENTEEN Jeonghan kicked out of group) and pushes Seungcheol away from him with a hand on his chest. Manages to say, “We can’t keep doing this.”

Seungcheol, never one to listen to reason, tries to crowd closer. “Why not?” he asks. There’s a grin on his face. Jeonghan tries not to look at his smile. If he does, he might lose track of the impulse control hanging by a thread.

“Coups-ah,” Jeonghan says, looking at the lifeless street down below instead of at Seungcheol. “You know why.”

Seungcheol sighs, full and deep bodied. Jeonghan feels it reverberate through his bones. He untwines from Jeonghan, slow, achingly regretful. It feels like pulling away from sunlight, retreating into the darkness. Withering. Seungcheol stands there and waits. Looks at Jeonghan like he’s expecting him to bare his soul. Like he’d bare his own in return.

Jeonghan doesn’t know what to do with that kind of thoughtless devotion. Doesn’t know how to handle another heart next to his, another pair of hands in his.
Seungcheol sits on the ground and looks at Jeonghan, like he’s searching for something. Something he won’t find, probably. Jeonghan sinks down next to him and listens to his own pounding heart.

“Do you ever think, if we weren’t idols—” Seungcheol starts. Jeonghan makes a soft noise and stops him in his tracks.

“I don’t like hypotheticals,” Jeonghan says, stopping him. He looks at Seungcheol, now, finally, dares him to talk with his eyes.

“I do,” Seungcheol says, looking right back. Fiery, like he can be sometimes. “Do you think in a parallel universe we could be together?”

“I don’t believe in parallel universes,” Jeonghan tells him. He stretches his hands out behind him. They dig into the concrete.

“Stop lying,” Seungcheol says. Gentle, voice reigned back in, despite it all. Despite Jeonghan.

Jeonghan sits in silence. He looks up at the sky. It’s clear, but he can only make out one star. Maybe that star is Seungcheol, in a parallel universe. Maybe Jeonghan would be pulled, irresistibly, into his orbit. Maybe that other Jeonghan wouldn’t try so hard to break out.

“I would like that universe,” Jeonghan says, finally. His hands are left with the indent of the concrete and his heart is left with the indent of Seungcheol. He stands and walks away from Seungcheol, firmly not looking back. He opens the door and steps inside. The cold blast of the air conditioning makes him shiver. He tries not to expect Seungcheol to run after him.

Seungcheol has given him far too many chances. Jeonghan has left him, hand outstretched, heart outstretched, each time.

The door falls shut behind Jeonghan and he’s left in the eerie cold darkness. August 1. It’s five minutes past midnight. Jeonghan is left with a broken heart.

[cruelsummers]

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

Prompt:

You look like you've eaten the sun, like you drank so much sunlight you're drowning in it.

Yves Olade, from Bloodsport

[FILL] sunshine on me

[sunwalkr]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: hhu line own a tattoo shop, vocu own a florist shop across the street, the inherent intimacies of tattooing your art onto someone you just met, inspired by black eye vernon
Permission to remix: yes!
wc: 2.5k
a/n: hehe enjoy mishi!! <333 i couldn't not not do this...

***

posted to AO3

when i come back, you’ll still be here

[replaydebut]

Ship/Member: Any…but I’m always partial to jeonghan ships and seungkwan ships:)
Major Tags: idolverse, post-disbandment, reconciliation, nostalgia, when you realize your youth was fleeting and now it’s over and you don’t know who you are without it
Additional Tags: you could also do something related to enlistment or post-enlistment if the inspiration strikes…anything this song inspires in you is perfectly fine!
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

This is the end of the song, and it is just a song, this is a version of me and you
That can exist outside of everything else
And if it is just a fantasy then anything can happen from here
The contract is up, the names have been changed
So pour one out, whoever you are
These are only lyrics now

—— Twin Fantasy (Those Boys) by Car Seat Headrest

you wanna ____ me right now

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Maknae line strongly preferred, any ok!
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: N/A

Prompt:

And if you hate me
Please don't tell me
Just let the lights bleed
All over me
—Ethel Cain, Gibson Girl

[Fill] you wanna ____ me right now

[leomoonwonu]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Chan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: AU, implied (?) infidelity, brief sexual content
Permission to remix: Please ask

***

Jeonghan finds Chan in the usual place. The bass is loud, the lights are neon green, and Chan is dancing like he’s putting on a show. It’s clear he’s made his rounds. Men and women hover around him like they’re waiting for him to notice them again. It’s a look Jeonghan knows well.

It’s one he’s caught on his own face in the mirrors that line the dance floor.

Chan locks eyes with him as the song fades out, something darker, heavier taking its place. He makes his way to a secluded corner. Jeonghan follows him.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” Jeonghan says.

He has to lean into Chan to say it. His cologne is warm on his skin, wood and spice. Jeonghan can’t avoid breathing him in.

The light shining on Chan’s face should make him look sick. Instead, he looks ethereal.

“Neither are you,” he answers. “But we’re both here anyway.”

Chan’s hands find their way to Jeonghan’s hips. Their bodies come together naturally. It’s hard to tell who is leading and who is following.

It hardly matters. It ends the same way every time.

“What happens now that you’ve found me?” Chan asks him. In his boots, they’re nearly the same height. It makes Jeonghan’s face burn, thinking about Chan looking up at him, those few precious centimeters.

“You should leave. Pretend this didn’t happen.”

“Fine.” Chan’s hands tighten against his hips. “If that’s really what you want.”

The bass pounds against Jeonghan’s temples when Chan kisses him. It’s not the first time they’ve done this. No, the first time it was Jeonghan eyeing Chan on the dance floor, catching his eye and leading him to a dark spot just like this. Whispering sweetly against Chan’s mouth, baby if it feels good, then it can’t be bad. The nearly imperceptible tremble in Chan’s shoulders when he breathed out in the space between them.

Jeonghan knew from the first time that he was already in too deep. The night club on the edge of the city is a place outside of time, their own private world. Whatever they are, it only exists here, in the dark.

Jeonghan winds his hands around Chan’s shoulders, slides his tongue into Chan’s mouth. They’re still moving to the music, or maybe creating a beat of their own. Chan’s hands move to his ass and Jeongha thinks of Chan on his knees, Chan’s lips stretched around his cock, the way his eyes shine when he’s dancing in front of strangers. He wants him in a way that always thrills down his spine. Hot and nauseating.

They should not be doing this. They cannot seem to stop doing this. Weeks into months of coming to the same club to kiss the same stranger. He wonders again if Chan is really supposed to be here. If he’s the only one craving something he’s not supposed to have.

Chan is the one to break the kiss, stepping back from Jeonghan while his fingers trail across his skin.

“You wanna fuck me right now.” Jeonghan fights back a shiver. Chan’s mouth grazes the side of his neck. “You want me.”

“I always want you,” is the truth that slips from Jeonghan unbidden. “Even though I shouldn’t.”

He can feel Chan’s smile against his neck, the thudding of his heart where they touch. This is the most honest he’s been with himself in a long time. They’re going to do this until they get caught, until they finally have to lie down in the bed they’ve made in the dark.

“Don’t tell me,” he says, voice so low Jeonghan almost misses it. “If you hate me.”

Chan walks back to the center of the dance floor. Jeonghan catches his wrist.

“I changed my mind. Let’s get a drink. See where the night takes us.”

Chan gives him a warm, dangerous look. The neon lights bleed across his face. Jeonghan wants him so much he can’t breathe. He fits their hands together and leads them toward the bar.

If it feels good, then it can’t be bad. Right?

this is a self referential tragicomedy

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Joshua; Minghao; Mingyu; Hoshi; Seungkwan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

i love crying in front of a mirror i am both audience and performer i am narrator and narrated this is a self referential tragicomedy and i should start a youtube channel
(source)

[FILL] my year of rest & relaxation

[thembocollector]

HI FRIEND!
now xposted to ao3

Ship/Member: gyuhan (sorry)
Major Tags: substance abuse
Additional Tags: There is Something Wrong With Everyone in This, based off of ottessa moshfegh's year of r&r, explicit content
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Whenever Jeonghan woke up, he would shuffle through the day’s brightness and cut through the city in order to get coffee from the same corner shop on Finchley Road, which was objectively a shithole, but he liked the way the cashier smiled at him each time, because it helped him remember until he took Ambien and trazodone and Valium until he fell asleep again. A few months went by.

If he wanted variety, he would order Chinese takeout from the place across the street and find himself booking appointments for restaurants in his sleep. He always called back to cancel, but he hated doing this.

In the beginning, he would diligently have his laundry done for him. A cleaning service would come by once a week to pick up his pile from him and he would have them returned a few days later. Now, his clothes were strewn all over his apartment. He just no longer cared. Eventually, the sound of the washer and dryer was too much for him anyway, so he just threw away his dirty clothes and would buy new ones in turn, if he even remembered to do so.

He left the apartment infrequently; only doing so to sustain himself and to avoid people knocking at his door, their faux-concern far too cloying for his brain. It was enough to pick up his prescription medication that way; for him to stare at the pharmacist with disdain and for him to ignore the way she would look at him pitifully through her horn-rimmed glasses until he had to do it all over again. Jeonghan hated her, but she was kind to him and she never asked questions, although she annoyed him. So he grunted back at her and hoped that was enough. His father’s financial advisor handled things for him, anyways, and apparently he had more than enough in his savings account for him to continue his lifestyle for a year;

His year of rest and relaxation.



Mingyu frowned at Jeonghan. "You can’t just disappear on us.” He placed his arms on the side of the couch, nearly touching Jeonghan, who was lying down with a hand over his forehead.

“I can for a year,” Jeonghan retorted, not looking him in the eye. “I’ve already planned everything.”

“You can’t just plan to disappear, then,” Mingyu amended, still frowning. “It makes no sense.”

“It does, actually.” It did to Jeonghan. He was tired; tired of the way he had to perform niceties in the mornings, in the afternoons, in the evenings. Tired of how the few who were close to him would ask him questions; never out of real concern, but rather as a way to either take his money or to sleep with him.

Yoon Jeonghan was lost.

He’d lost his job earlier in the year as a nurse. He found himself deliberately endangering people by slacking during work and when his boss had yelled at him with spittle flying into his face, Jeonghan had told him to go fuck himself and he walked out, as simple as that. He didn’t really need the job, anyways. He had enough inheritance to keep him going on for two more lives, once he was done squandering the first.

Mingyu spluttered at Jeonghan, who just shrugged weakly in response.
“What are you going to do for a year?”

“Sleep,” Jeonghan replied. It was alluring to him. He had trouble sleeping most nights, and he was looking forward to conking out in a fit of medication. He’d taken Xanax at a party once and had fallen asleep on the couch there and then. It felt as though he disappeared from reality; was somehow transcendent, in-between places. It sounded like a fine idea to him.

“It sounds like a fine idea to me,” Jeonghan said, shrugging again. He didn’t really see the problem. He’d arranged for Mingyu to check in on him monthly, to make sure he wasn’t dying or dead in the process. Jeonghan was semi-healthy, other than his gross substance abuse. His kidneys would be fine, or so he thought, and he turned to Mingyu with something that could have been generously described as a smile. “I don’t see the problem.” He really didn’t.

The week prior, he’d tested his theory and found that the world was so much better when it was dulled by the hazy film of sleep. Time drifted on slowly in a thin blanket that enveloped him whole. His shirts were crusty with sweat-stains. The coffee on the bottom of his mugs had solidified into hard granules that would not get rid of themselves without at least three vigorous washes.

“It’s not going to be fine,” Mingyu said. “I’m worried about you, you know? Have you been seeing a therapist?”

“I have,” Jeonghan said. This was not a lie, either. He had been—because where else would he have been obtaining his endless supply of narcotics? But what he couldn’t tell Mingyu was that his therapist was forgetful and absolutely, almost certainly unethical in her practice; what with the way she would prescribe him four different types of benzos on top of each other, as Jeonghan begged her for stronger pills that would cure him from his supposed bouts of sleeplessness. (That had been cured a long while ago. Now, there was only sleep.)

“You’re horrible,” Mingyu said, and he had that expression that Jeonghan was too familiar with, that expression that told Jeonghan that he knew what Jeonghan was doing, but he didn’t want to voice it out loud, lest one of their feelings would get hurt. (It was typically Mingyu who hurt himself that way.)

“I know,” Jeonghan said, with an uncharacteristic tiredness he reserved for when he wanted Mingyu to shut up. Typically, it was often, but he liked to lie to himself and think that he was a good friend to him. That Mingyu would see and understand as to why he wanted a year of quiet.

“Is this because of your grandfather?”

“It’s not,” Jeonghan replied. And it wasn’t really. He couldn’t bear lying to Mingyu on the best of days.

“Okay,” Mingyu said, hurt in his eyes, and he got up to leave. Jeonghan watched him go from the comfort of his sofa, and curled up into a ball, closing his eyes.



He was faintly aware that a cat was meowing incessantly outside of his room. This bothered him, because it interrupted his medicated sleep. When he walked to his balcony to peer at it, it was almost as if it was never there in the first place. He kicked at the empty air and then felt ashamed when he realised how pathetic he felt.

The next morning, Mingyu came to take out the trash.

“I can’t believe how much shit the human body is capable of producing,” Mingyu said while Jeonghan sat stubbornly on the couch; his body a mere extension of it. “Since when did you like Thai?” He held up a container next to Jeonghan's face and he didn’t even flinch at the way the smell of fish sauce had soured over the weeks.

Jeonghan shrugged. “Is this unusual to you?” It was somewhat unusual to him. He ordered Thai whenever his cocktail of drugs got too much for him. Typically, he hated the way curry smelled and preferred bland meals; as if the lack of taste was a blanket for his sleep, both dull and grey.

“All of it is,” Mingyu sighed, and grumbled something out about how he’d have to come with a hazmat suit the next time. Jeonghan thanked God that there was still a next time. Mingyu continued to pick up various bits of trash around Jeonghan's apartment, but he never dared to enter Jeonghan's room. This was fine by him. He didn’t know whether he would be asking for too much, then, but he winced regardless at the thought of Mingyu poking at his crusty bedsheets.

Kim Mingyu was Jeonghan's friend from university. The two of them had known each other for years—in the way that they were no longer tied together by their shared interests, but rather a sense of necessity—and Jeonghan was quietly thankful for him, despite the fact that Mingyu believed in Simply Getting Over Things Through Toxic Positivity as a means of therapy rather than engaging in the practice itself.

Once Mingyu shoved the too-large bag of rubbish down the apartment’s trash chute, he opened Jeonghan's fridge and poured himself a glass of wine, downing it in seconds before disregarding his glass entirely and drinking straight from the bottle instead.

“This is a bit grim,” Mingyu said, grimacing, continuing to gulp the rest of the wine. He wiped his lips, which had turned purple.

“Get your own then.”

“I will,” Mingyu replied. He never did, but that was another part of their unspoken agreement; that Jeonghan would leave alcohol behind for Mingyu to drink excessively while Jeonghan laid on the couch in a medicated stupor; dumb and pliant. Sometimes, when Mingyu thought Jeonghan wasn't looking, he would do lines of coke on his kitchen counter.

Jeonghan knew, of course, but he couldn't bring himself to care all too much.

Mingyu wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and Jeonghan stared at the curve of his jaw before choosing to look out of the windows. “Turn the TV on or something, this is fucking bleak.” Mingyu said.

If Jeonghan was in a better mood, he’d ask Mingyu if he wanted to stay over for dinner and watch his DVDs together. Whenever Mingyu came over, they always ended up watching cable, which Jeonghan disliked. He preferred to watch familiar DVDs that would eat away at his anxieties; their words providing a horrible familiarity. It was almost as if Mingyu felt the need to keep up appearances; wearing gaudish suits that made Jeonghan's head throb and quoting a funny line from the latest TV series that he’d inevitably end up dropping. Jeonghan despised this and almost despised Mingyu for doing so. The problem was that Mingyu was invariably likeable, and Jeonghan was not.

Mingyu's apartment across London was in a building with a lift. It had a private gym—the first of its kind in his area—and it was obnoxiously stylish in the way that only people with established wealth were. Jeonghan's flat, meanwhile, smelled like old laundry and despair. It had a lift from the 60s that had a cage enclosing it and was unreliable in most parts. Despite this, Mingyu somehow preferred going to Jeonghan’s flat. Jeonghan didn’t know why. Jeonghan felt solitary and purposeless whenever he was with Mingyu. He felt a quiet resentment that he couldn’t place; their friendship a cruel parody of the other. He was certain that Mingyu resented him for the way that he fell into his sleep, as well. Almost as if they were trading blows with one another.

Mingyu liked pre-planning his work week in a way that Jeonghan didn’t. His schedule was always full, and there was the implication that he was doing things for Jeonghan as a favour, as if friendship could be measured by the number of times one did another’s laundry for them.

It was a certain sort of cruelness that close friends could only harbour for one another: Especially amongst two friends who had no real reason to be tied to one another due to their lack of interests intersecting. Meanness disguised under concern. Apathy under care. Pain under labour. Jeonghan knew this, and so did Mingyu, and yet the two of them fell into place like ill-fitting jigsaw puzzle pieces. Jeonghan was aware that he would not share this sort of relationship with anyone else, romantic or otherwise. (To think of Mingyu in a romantic light would be a disservice to himself.)

In the distance, one could hear the sound of the Underground. Life chugged along without them.

Jeonghan had been taking Nembutals all day. Sounds turned into mush turned into dust in his ears, and when he came to, he faintly realised that Mingyu was talking to him.
“—And I hate going back home, because they keep asking me about her, but we’re done, you know?”

Jeonghan nodded, not knowing still.



Time passed in an agonising haze.

"What are you looking at?" Jeonghan said. Mingyu was thumbing through Jeonghan's old magazines; their pages yellowed and dog-eared.

"Why do you have these lying around?"

Jeonghan shrugged, not really having an answer. "Do you want some tea?" He felt generous for once. As if brewing one mug of tea for Mingyu would replace all the times he'd lugged trash out of his apartment. He loathed himself for viewing friendship as a series of transactions, yet he felt as though he had to, if only for a moment.

Mingyu eyed him with suspicion. "Do you have any clean mugs?"

"Probably not," Jeonghan admitted. Mingyu laughed; a bright and sudden sound.

"You're an absolute mess," Mingyu said, but there was fondness in his eyes, and Jeonghan felt the world lose its dullness for a split second before it was replaced by a certain kind of dullness, probably brought upon by the fourth Valium he'd popped during the day. He reached out, almost as if to ruffle Jeonghan's hair, but the moment was broken when Jeonghan turned away involuntarily.



They sipped on their chamomile tea in silence.

"Who did you meet the other day?" Mingyu said, pouting unattractively.

"Joshua," Jeonghan replied, scalding his tongue in the process. He wanted to wince, and found that he couldn't.

"Why wasn't I invited?"

Jeonghan shrugged. At the time, he hadn't seen the occasion as particularly notable in that the three of them had to meet. Then again, Mingyu liked to feel as though he were more important than the overall situation. "It wasn't a big deal." It really wasn't.

"Ask me next time," Mingyu said, pouring a glass of beer noisily. It was an IPA of sorts. Jeonghan kept them in his fridge for Mingyu and hoarded foreign lagers for himself. "Do you want some?"

"Yeah, maybe," Jeonghan replied. Mingyu handed him over a bottle and Jeonghan habitually started peeling the corners of its label. Mingyu just sighed at him; his expression indecipherable.



"How are you sleeping?" Jeonghan's therapist, Dr. Lim said over the phone. They hadn't met in person in weeks, partly due to Dr. Lim's strange schedule and Jeonghan's refusal to leave his own flat.

"Poorly," Jeonghan lied. "I've had spotty hours of sleep."

"Tell me more," Dr. Lim said. It was nearly-lewd; the way Jeonghan could tell he was salivating over the prospect of a new diagnosis. Jeonghan hated him, if it weren't for the fact that he would dispense new oddities for him.

Jeonghan rubbed the side of his neck whilst holding the receiver with his other hand. "How do I start?"

Jeonghan then proceeded to tell Dr. Lim falsehoods about his sleep. How he apparently struggled before he wrestled to sleep. How he wanted to pass out, every night, without fail, and yet he was doomed to stare at the crack in the ceiling he'd been meaning to fix. This was only partly a lie. The red light from the shop across the street illuminated his face as he continued to murmur through the phone.

"What about your friend?" Dr. Lim said, suddenly, in the wake of Jeonghan's lies.

"My friend?"

"Kim Mingyu," Dr. Lim said. "He comes over often, does he not?"

"He does," Jeonghan said. His body felt very distant to his own.

"How do you feel about him?"



The simple answer to Dr. Lim's question was that Mingyu fucked Jeonghan sometimes.

"You're not—" Jeonghan said, angling his hips sideways so that Mingyu could thrust deeper into him. "It's not," he said, frustrated.

"I'm not what?" Mingyu said, clearly trying to sound sexy at first. After seeing Jeonghan's look of boredom, he deflated. Mingyu snorted some leftover coke right before they started undressing, and once again, Jeonghan laughed at the idea of Mingyu thinking that he was being discreet. There was a bottle of poppers by the nightstand that Jeonghan had used prior to them fucking.

Mingyu noticed Jeonghan eyeing the brown bottle and sighed. "Do you want me to take them too?" Without stopping for Jeonghan's response, he slipped out of Jeonghan to inhale; throwing his head back with a satisfied sigh. Jeonghan rolled over, waiting for Mingyu to enter him again.

the city breathes

[tenjouh]

Ship/Member: any! (but consider: mingyu)
Major Tags: city as a character, missing, yearning
Additional Tags: doesn't have to strictly be ny, remembering them in the most mundane things
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I have lost a hero, I have lost a friend
But for you, darling, I'd do it all again
New York isn't New York without you, love

- New York by St. Vincent

blocked by their armour / by our own

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Sports; Idolverse as sports?
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

ME AS AN NHL REPORTER IN A POST-GAME PRESS INTERVIEW: so do you agree that feeling the most secure touching each other while wearing literal armour is a metaphor for the human condition? your vulnerability in these goal celebrations is offset by the fact that you aren’t actually physically touching each other; you literally can’t touch each other, and this is the only time you try. does that fact ever make you reflect on your relationships with your teammates? would you so gleefully have held him if he’d achieved a victory in his personal life, off the ice? in his home? the padding protects you in more ways than one, does it not? isn’t this the nature of human connection, played out on television screens like a soap opera? don’t you think we all watch because we want to hold our friends after their successes and console them after our losses but feel blocked by their armour? by our own?

THE NHL PLAYER WHO JUST PHYSICALLY EXERTED HIMSELF FOR A FULL HOUR WHO’S STILL OUT OF BREATH AND SWEATING AND ONLY PICKED UP 1/5TH OF WHAT I JUST SAID: uhhhh, wh— well, it’s a team effort out there, we, uhh, give it 110%—

(source)

[FILL] here's your chance

[arundels]

Ship/Member: Joshua/Soonyoung
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: football au, the inherent homoeroticism of team sports, the things you do when on an adrenaline rush, joshy is hoshy's favourite hyung
Permission to remix: Yes

a/n: Shamelessly inspired by the Mbappe/Giroud moment in France's match against Poland during the world cup (here & here), and also Cho Guesung kissing Lee Kang-in on the pitch (here). Not to mention the fact that we know it's canon that Joshua can pick Hoshi up. Also worth referring to, my SVT lineup. Enjoy!

***

They’ve made a heroic comeback from three-nil down.

First, Jeonghan going down in the box — a little softly, but no one could say for sure that he’d dived — and winning them a penalty. Soonyoung had stepped up to the spot, the weight of the entire team’s dreams weighing heavy on his shoulders, and smashed the ball into the top corner with all the force of a hurricane.

Second, Mingyu with a header, soaring high above the scuffle, his aim sure and true. All of that from a perfect corner, delivered via Chan’s blessed, golden, left foot.

Third, a feat of dribbling from Seungkwan, all the way from their own defensive third. He’d sliced it to Soonyoung in the final second, and it had been a trivial thing for Soonyoung to tap it in across the line.

“That should be your goal,” Soonyoung had said, flinging himself into Seungkwan’s arms.

“Team goal!” Seungkwan had shouted in return, hands clapped against the side of Soonyoung’s head. “Team goal, team goal!”

And now — victory is so close Soonyoung can almost taste it. Ten minutes of extra time left to play, before they have to suffer the indignity of a penalty shootout. He’s hungry for the win, electric with his own desire.

He darts away from the defender, trying to find space to receive a pass from Chan. The defender shoves back into his space, and Chan’s attempt to pass falters. One of the full backs slides in and tackles the ball out from under Chan’s feet. Soonyoung is so frustrated he wants to scream.

“Foul!” Mingyu screams, sprinting back down the pitch as play moves in the other direction. He waves his arms overhead. The referee ignores him, as does Soonyoung. It was a clean tackle, which is what makes it especially annoying.

Soonyoung tracks back down the pitch, gaze darting to follow the ball, ready to spring into action once their defensive line gets possession back. In the midfield he enters Joshua’s orbit, and glances over at him. Joshua has a sweatband shoved into his hairline, but his fringe is long and hangs over it, stringy with sweat.

Joshua jerks his chin towards Soonyoung, a smirk quirking one side of his lips.

“Good job, Hoshi-yah,” he shouts, using the nickname that the fans have for Soonyoung. Even through the roar of the crowd around them, his voice slices through like a bell, or maybe it’s a warning siren. He winks, and Soonyoung’s stomach flips, shooting straight into his throat. “We need one more,” Joshua teases, grinning, “You going for the hat-trick?”

“Yeah!” Soonyoung yells back. He pumps one fist in the air. “Yeah, I’m gonna! Hyung, I’m gonna do it!”

Joshua laughs. He flicks his gaze back towards where the action is happening. Jihoon is muscling into the opposing striker’s space, and just manages to flick the ball out with a tricky backheel more typical of a forward than a centre-back. Vernon receives the pass with ease, like they’ve done this on the training ground before — they have — and whacks it down the pitch to Seungcheol.

“Here you go,” Joshua calls out, “here’s your chance.”

Then he turns his attention away from Soonyoung, laser-focusing in on what he needs to do. He and Jeonghan triangulate with Seungcheol in the midfield, alternately running ahead and falling back. The ball ricochets between them at speed, passing too quickly between deft feet to be intercepted. All three of them are good, Soonyoung thinks, skilful in different ways — Seungcheol is solid and decisive; Jeonghan is incisive and unrelenting.

And Joshua — Joshua is magnificent.

Soonyoung may be biased, but it’s not far from the truth. Joshua isn’t so much good with the ball as he is good with the game. He reads people, and lets them believe they’ve read him, only to slip in the opposite direction and away from them like water.

Soonyoung floats into the space right in front of Joshua. They’ve done this before. They’ve done this a thousand times before. He just needs to be in the right place, at the right time. He just needs to be somewhere where Joshua can see him. He just needs Joshua to see him.

“Shua-hyung—” he hears himself say, but it doesn’t carry over the noise of the crowd, and Joshua doesn’t hear him, of course.

But Joshua whips round, eyes searching for Soonyoung. Their gazes lock. Joshua smiles.

The ball comes hurtling out of the air at him. Soonyoung shuts his mind down, lets his body take over. He takes the first touch with the flat of his foot, bouncing the ball high so it almost leaps over the defender who’s trying to get in his way. Then he skirts around to meet the ball on the other side and sprints down the pitch. A second defender charges in his direction. Soonyoung dances away from him.

In his periphery he can see Mingyu on one side, Chan cutting in towards him on the other. But they have defenders hovering around them, too close, they’d get the ball if Soonyoung tries to pass, he can’t take the chance. He keeps running. The defensive line falls away behind him.

The goal looms ahead. The opposition keeper hunches down, sharp gaze trained in on Soonyoung.

Here you go, Soonyoung thinks, the voice in his head sounding eerily like Joshua, here’s your chance.

He takes a quick step to the right, just enough to fluster the keeper, and shoots.

The ball soars through the air, and Soonyoung watches it go, feeling himself lifted into the sky along with it, his breath trapped in his lungs, as he waits, and he waits, and he waits—

The stadium explodes into cheers. The ball rockets into the back of the net. Soonyoung hears himself scream, a roar that rips its way out of him. He looks up into the crowd, and feels their adoration pouring down upon him like a tidal wave.

“Kwon Hoshi!” the fans chant. “Kwon Hoshi! Kwon Hoshi!”

Soonyoung turns, and there Joshua is. Eyes bright, beaming at him. The thunderous crowd fades into the background, into a dull buzz of white noise. All Soonyoung knows is Joshua, standing six yards away from him, radiant with pride.

He sprints forward, and before he knows what he’s doing, he leaps into Joshua’s arms. Joshua catches him easily, hands underneath his thighs, and lifts him so Soonyoung is propped up on his waist. Joshua is so strong, Soonyoung thinks, feeling wild with something that he cannot name, something that fizzles all the way down to his fingers and toes. He clamps one hand behind Joshua’s neck, and looks down at him.

“Hyung, I did it,” he says. He presses his other hand to Joshua’s cheek. His skin is flushed with heat and slick with sweat. Soonyoung feels like he could cry. “Hyung, I did it! I did it!”

Joshua gazes up at him, tipping his head back slightly so he can look Soonyoung in the eye.

“Goob job, Hoshi-yah,” he says, just like before. But this time his voice is low, rumbling in his chest, and Soonyoung can almost feel it vibrating against him. It sends shockwaves rippling through his core.

The rest of the team floods into view around them, crowding for a group hug. Mingyu is shouting incomprehensibly at them, grinning so bright it could rival the sun. Chan has his hands on Joshua’s shoulders and is jumping up and down. Seungcheol has one arm slung around Joshua’s neck and the other holding onto Soonyoung’s waist. Jeonghan is smacking Soonyoung’s butt.

Joshua is still looking at him. Only looking at him.

Here you go, Soonyoung thinks, one more time. Here’s your chance.

This time it’s in his own voice, screaming at him in his head. He’s hungry for this, too.

He squeezes his eyes shut, and dips his head down. His lips touch Joshua’s and it feels like fire. The crowd roars around them. Mingyu lets out an ear-splitting shriek, and somewhere to his right Jeonghan is cackling with delight. Joshua smiles against his mouth.

They’ve won. He’s won. Soonyoung feels like a hero.

the marvel of a love i have yet to bury

[infrequencies]

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

Prompt:

Praise the miracle of glass that allowed me to touch you
before I ever touched you, telegraphed your palm’s heat
& its nearness to dawn, assured me the heave of your chest

chases a precious pulse that holds back death & its chariot.
Praise the spell for the woman drenched with moonbeam
laughing in the back seat of my father’s red automobile,

the slope of your neck as you shriek birds into the cool dawn.
Praise the marvel of a love I have yet to bury.
Praise the miracle of your dark hair. Your fingers tightening

around the leather armrest as we tunnel through bright & wind.
Your eyes catching in the glass like headlights. The safety label
swearing subjects in the mirror are closer than they seem.

— NATALIE WEE, from “Asami Watches Korra in the Rear-View,” Beast at Every Threshold

undeniable

[lightreframe]

Ship/Member: Jihoon/Mingyu
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: um. Yearning (vaguely derogatory), Ambiguous Relationships, this is just a very jigyu poem to me (as a non jigyuist) so, Go Wild, personally i think vamp mg and nurse wz but thats *waves hands* whatever
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

I'll turn you
to tender gooseflesh. I'll serve
you on the table of your hidden
hunger. I'll find it the way
rain finds my roof each night
you take yourself away
to that land in which you are only
yourself.

— Paul Guest, Seduction with Entropy, from "Notes For My Body Double".

migratory bird caw caw

[lightreframe]

Ship/Member: Any but. um. Wonwoo/Mingyu. or Soonyoung/Wonwoo. just saying.
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: simplicity, the idea that This Has Been Written In The Stars, love in the simpler things (they actually mean so much)
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

& I knew: we would be so terribly happy. Our work would be simple. Our kissing would rhyme with cardiac arrest.

— Chen Chen, Summer Was Forever, from When I Grow Up I Want To Be A Further List Of Possibilities