Status: Closed
This round has closed. It remains open for fills, comments and remixes, but prompts are no longer accepted.
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.
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no subject
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
- double take, dhruv
- so good, halsey
[FILL] you're my vice, you're my muse
Major Tags: getting together, idolverse, yearning
Additional Tags: N/A
Permission to remix: Please ask
***
He doesn’t mean to get hard watching Minghao meditate.
They’re all sitting in a waiting room, with stylists and managers and staff inching through narrow canyons of linoleum in between duffel bags and suitcases, different voices yelling out about call times and lost makeup bags. It’s messy, the frenzy sinking into his shoulders like a weight.
Joshua looks over at Mingyu, who’s knocked out cold on a chair, and feels a deep sense of envy. Next to him, Minghao scrolls aimlessly on his phone with his knees tucked against his chest, laughing occasionally at a funny video. Their eyes meet before Joshua realizes, and embarrassment burns in his stomach knowing he’s been caught staring.
Minghao looks at Joshua running his nails across the pads of his fingers and smiles reassuringly. “Come sit with me.” He goes to the very corner of the room, behind a few overstuffed clothes racks and a lumpy gray sofa. Minghao grabs the cushions off the couch and hands one to Joshua, sliding it under his thighs and wiggling in an attempt to settle in.Â
“I was just about to do some meditation,” he says gently, pulling up a video. “You can just hang out a bit if you’d like, the clothes help block out the noise.”
Joshua nods, watching Minghao pull up a video on his phone and close his eyes. He starts matching the pace of his breathing to the video lady’s voice, who sounds kind of pretentious and has some ridiculous expectations of how long Joshua is able to hold his breath for. He tries to close his eyes, but it only makes the anxiety feel louder, and he decides the best thing is to find something to stare at until his brain has no room to think about anything else.
His eyes dart around the tiny space, trying to find something to fixate on. There’s not much room, especially since they’re both sitting cross-legged, and Minghao’s back is already right up against the wall and their knees are almost touching—
Joshua blinks rapidly, the thumping of his heartbeat suddenly a roar in his ears. He glances quickly, once, twice, just to make sure that Minghao really does have his eyes closed, before he gives himself permission to look.
Fluorescent lighting doesn’t do anyone favors, but even the flickering yellow bulbs do nothing to diminish the cut of Minghao’s cheekbones, the pink flush of his lips. Joshua watches the way Minghao curls and flexes his fingers with unrestrained fascination. He tries to trace the outlines of Minghao’s hands and commit the shapes to memory; every curve, every knuckle.
It takes him a moment to realize he’s hard. If he was embarrassed before, he’s absolutely mortified now.
Joshua quickly grabs the cushion he was sitting on and shoves it over his lap, suddenly wishing he was anywhere else. He’d take a thousand snoring Wonwoos over this misery any day.Â
The video finally ends and Minghao slowly opens his eyes, smiling warmly and rolling out the cricks in his neck and shoulders. Joshua stares very hard at the striped pattern of a cardigan hanging behind Minghao’s head. “How was it, hyung?”
“Um, it was nice,” Joshua replies, taken aback by the hoarseness of his own voice only after a few minutes of disuse. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Minghao says, standing up and tossing the cushion back onto the couch. “Do you feel more relaxed?”
Joshua hopes his expression is calm, and definitely not one of a pervert who got hard watching his friend of over eight years do mindfulness exercises via YouTube. “I am so relaxed.”
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It doesn’t get much better after that. Joshua finds himself unable to concentrate whenever Minghao is in the room, relentlessly distracted by watching him do the most mundane things. He nearly drops his phone on his face watching Minghao unscrew a water bottle, and dreams about the flex of his fingers for days after. He steps on Jeonghan’s foot in practice because Minghao tugged his hoodie off and the tank top he was wearing underneath rode up with it, exposing the flat planes of his stomach. Jeonghan had given him a dirty look, but Joshua was too dazed to care.
“Are you sick or something? Maybe possessed?” Jeonghan asks dubiously when practice is over, pulling him into the corner of the room.Â
Joshua rolls his eyes and tries to leave, but Jeonghan blocks the way and stares him down even harder. “Can you stop being annoying?”
“You have a lot of nerve calling me annoying when you basically ruined my shoes,” Jeonghan huffs, pointing at his once-white sneakers. “Is it Minghao?”
Joshua’s head snaps up almost instinctively, which is his first mistake, and he can feel his body starting to form the beginnings of a well-crafted denial, but it’s too late. Jeonghan’s eyes widen and he starts stabbing the soft joints of Joshua’s shoulder with his finger.
“What the fuck!”
“Did you bang him?” Jeonghan stage whispers. The other members have already cleared the room, but his voice still feels too loud.
“I didn’t do anything,” Joshua shoots back.
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “But you want to.”
“It’s not like that,” Joshua mutters. “He’s a member, I’m not going to think of him that way.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Jeonghan cackles, clearly relishing in Joshua’s suffering. “Let me know when you need me to clear the dorms out.”
Joshua says nothing, but his cheeks burn hot pink, and Jeonghan laughs at him all the way until they reach the elevator.
âť„âť„âť„
Mingyu shakes his head aggressively as he tumbles into the car, water flying everywhere. The rain has been relentless all week, only letting up for a few hours in the dead of night. Joshua used to be fascinated by how much it rained when he first moved. Now, as drops of dirty rain water smack into his face, he finds himself yearning for the dryness of Los Angeles once again.
“Traffic is bad,” their driver remarks once the door is shut. “Might take a while before we can get back guys.”
Soonyoung groans dramatically, pulling his jacket up to his face. “Wake me up when we get there,” he says, voice muffled underneath his giant puffer.
The car rumbles to a start, and then they’re on the road, inching slowly through the mess of a thousand other cars trying to drive in the middle of a rainstorm. The members settle in their seats, the steady thump of rain lulling them to sleep rather quickly. It was a long filming day, and Joshua should be exhausted, but for some reason he can't fall asleep no matter how many times he moves around in his seat.
He sighs and fishes his phone out of his pocket. If he can’t nap, he’ll find some way to entertain himself. He’s looking for videos when he spots a thumbnail of Minghao, arms stretched above his head showing off the flex of his muscles. Joshua stares, mouth going dry, thumb hovering over the screen. He’s about to scroll away when the car goes over a speedbump, and his hand taps on the screen, right on the thumbnail. The video immediately plays, and it’s a— a fucking compilation, of Minghao grinding against the floor, rolling his hips and showing off the firm planes of his abs, arms flexing, and Joshua cannot believe someone out there has put together a video specifically designed to hurt him–
He hears a firm cough behind him, and Joshua head whips around to see Minghao very much awake, looking bemused at the video that’s still playing on Joshua’s phone.Â
“Are you looking at sexy fancams of me?” Minghao asks, his voice practically dripping with amusement. Joshua has never quite wanted to disappear so badly.
“No, it was just— um, it was recommended and I accidentally opened it," Joshua stammers, which only makes him sound guilty. "I wasn’t looking on purpose.”Â
“I don’t mind, hyung,” Minghao replies, leaning back into his seat. He looks satisfied, like he knows every single deranged thought that Joshua has ever had. “It's kind of flattering.”
Joshua laughs, but it sounds forced, even to him, and he quickly turns back to his phone to close the video and put on music like a regular person. He can feel Minghao’s eyes boring into the back of his head throughout the rest of the car ride.Â
That night, when he goes to sleep, he dreams of Minghao’s hands wrapped around his waist, his arms, his neck.
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It’s Joshua’s turn to host movie night. Seunghcheol insists they have them in their individual rooms because “it’s more cozy that way”, but Joshua hates having food in the same place he sleeps, and only relented because Jeonghan swore he would help clean up this time.
He’s microwaving the last bag of popcorn when he hears the knock on his door, and he runs over to open it only to see Minghao holding a thermos of what is probably tea and a big fuzzy blanket.
“It’s just me today, hyung,” Minghao says, closing the door behind him. “Um, they said they both had to do something, but I figured since you probably already set up everything that it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”
“It’s ok,” Joshua says in his best cheerful voice, wondering what kind of hellish pranks he can exact on Seungcheol and Jeonghan for doing this to him. “We don’t need those two to have fun.”
He turns off the light and goes over to his laptop to start the movie, which plays on a projector screwed into the ceiling. Minghao settles onto the floor while Joshua lies down on his bed, trying not to panic at the thought of being in a dark room with Minghao for the next two hours.
“Popcorn is good,” Minghao chirps, tossing the puffs gently into his mouth.
Joshua clears his throat. “Um, thanks.”
They watch the movie in amicable silence. It’s a nice change of pace from the way he usually watches movies with Seungcheol, who refuses to stop asking Joshua questions about the plot as if they aren’t both watching the movie for the first time, and Jeonghan, who will look up spoilers and purposely yell them out right before it happens.Â
He finds himself sneaking glances at MInghao while he munches on popcorn, mesmerized by the way the screen flashes as the scenes change, changing the angles of Minghao’s face from sharp to soft to smooth. Another scene changes and drenches Minghao in blue light like a wave, and Joshua thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
“You can look, you know,” Minghao says after a few minutes. It takes Joshua a few minutes to realize the statement was directed at him, and he gives Minghao a puzzled look. On the other hand, Minghao looks pleased, almost smug, as he tosses another piece of popcorn into his mouth.
“At the screen?”
Minghao laughs, low and bright, and his hand reaches forward slowly across the bedsheets until he makes contact with Joshua’s fingers. “I mean, you can look at me. You don’t have to stop.”
Joshua’s heart feels like it's jackhammering against his chest. He can barely hear the sound of the movie now, the rush of blood and adrenaline roaring through his ears. The touch of Minghao’s hand on his burns hot and terrible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispers. He doesn't know if he trusts himself to say more.
He hates the way Minghao looks at him, like he can see right through all his doubts and misgivings. He pulls his hand away, and the loss is staggering. “I won’t push you,” Minghao murmurs, “but if you’re thinking that you’re the only one who looks, I’m telling you now it’s not true.”
Joshua stares at him and the distance between their hands. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you can want. You can want these things.” Minghao’s expression is fierce and unwavering, like he’s never been afraid of anything his entire life. “You can want me. All you have to do is ask.”
His entire body feels like one big TV static screen, loud and bright and numb, but Joshua slides down the bed anyways, reaching one hand out to press against the curve of Minghao’s neck before leaning in and pressing his lips softly against Minghao’s. It’s brief and fleeting, almost like he imagined the sensation. He can feel himself trembling as he leans back, from anxiety or joy or maybe both, but Minghao slides his arms around his waist and pulls him back in, kissing him harder this time, lips moving purposely.
Joshua sucks in a breath as Minghao presses up against him, solid and firm against his chest. They’re still kissing in long, drawn out motions. After a few minutes, Joshua realizes that he’s digging his nails into Minghao’s shoulders and makes a concerned noise as he pulls back, but Minghao shakes his head.
“You didn’t hurt me, it’s okay.”
Joshua blinks slowly, still dazed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m tougher than that,” he grins. Minghao leans back against the bed frame and gestures to Joshua, who scoots over in between the space of Minghao’s legs. Joshua, feeling unusually emboldened, takes Minghao’s hand and threads his fingers in between, chest thrumming with how right it feels.
Minghao laughs, the sound moving down Joshua’s back. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“What wasn’t?”
“Asking for what you want,” Minghao teases, and Joshua elbows him spitefully, face glowing scarlet for the rest of the movie.
Re: [FILL] you're my vice, you're my muse
Re: [FILL] you're my vice, you're my muse
Re: [FILL] you're my vice, you're my muse