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Prompting is currently open. Prompting is open from 28 December 2024 to 19 January 2025.
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"the poem begins not where the knife enters, but where the blade twists"
"beauty is terror"
"you'll just have to taste me, when he's kissing you"
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 a hit tweet.
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fame is a firework
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse or other fame-centric AU, love as a performance, nsfw?, the inherent horror of being a celebrity
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
[FILL] lines
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse, canon compliant, kinda nsfw, it's giving jekyll and hyde with a side of pining, i think jihoon needs a hug
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Itâs hard to tell where Hoshi begins and where Soonyoung ends.
At this point, Jihoon forgets which one he fell in love with.
*
The first time they fuck, itâs after they finish writing Shoot Me Before You Go.
Three in the morning; they finish recording and collapse on top of each other in a heap, high on the adrenaline of wrapping a song that fully captures the vision they intended for it. Jihoon figures Soonyoung needed to release the excess energy somehow. Heâd be lying if he said he didnât feel the same euphoria, and that his hands moved with their own volition, that the very same fingers that clicked every sound into place didnât also wrap themselves around Soonyoungâs cock and jerk him off until the sound of his theatrical moans echoed off the soundproof walls of his tiny studio.
Soonyoungâs grin is cheeky. âIâm your muse,â he murmurs breathlessly, his hot breath fanning Jihoonâs cheek when Jihoon finishes riding him to chase his own release.
Jihoon rolls his eyes. âIâll deny it in public,â he threatens emptily.
âIt can be our little secret.â
*
Itâs unnerving how Soonyoung â Hoshi â can touch him like that in front of everyone.
Like they havenât explored the maps of each otherâs bodies, carved the nooks and crannies with heated kisses that turn into lyrics, melodies, choreography for the world to see. That, Jihoon thinks scornfully, is intimacy.
Not this shit.
Jihoon thinks of Soonyoung â Soonyoung humming to himself, lips pursed in thought. Soonyoungâs sharp eyes, looking at formations and choreography. Soonyoung, silent and focused, listening to Seungcheolâs ideas.
Hoshi is loud. Hoshi cackles and giggles while bouncing off the walls, feeding off applause. Hoshi beams with pride, and also breaks into tears when dreams become reality.
But hell, Jihoon canât blame him for that. Woozi canât, either.
Soonyoung tells him Woozi is cold. Woozi is stoic, unfeeling.
Jihoon wants to say that Woozi is protective.
Because what they have in the shadows matters, more than fame or money ever would.
But Woozi â Jihoon doesnât think he can tell Soonyoung that, either.
*
When Soonyoung â Hoshi â Soonyoung asks what they are, Jihoon freezes.
âWhat do you mean?â he asks, not looking away from the screen in front of him.
Hoshi â Soonyoung â sits up from the couch. âWhat is this? What are we?â
Jihoon wants to scream the question again, but he knows itâs not fair. Not when the spare blanket he leaves in the studio wrinkles against the hard muscle of Soonyoungâs hips. Not when hours ago, for inspiration, Soonyoungâs mouth was on his cock.
Why is it beginning to feel that Soonyoung â Hoshi â Hoshi sucked him dry?
âI donât know.â Itâs as honest as Jihoon can be. Jihoon hopes he understands.
âItâs a little excessive if this is all just fanservice.â Soonyoungâs face is blank. âEven for you.â
Jihoon wonders if all Soonyoung sees now is Woozi. Not him, not really.
Woozi continues to stare at the screen, the purple glow of the studio illuminating his pale face. When Soonyoung leaves the studio in a blur of tears and a half-zipped sweatshirt, Jihoonâs face crumples.
*
Jihoon wants to ask whoâs really in love with Lee Soohyuk â Soonyoung or Hoshi.
Jealousy rears its ugly, bitter head. It looks like Woozi. But maybe itâs Jihoon. Maybe itâs all of him, who misses Soonyoung by his side when he stays late at the studio. Not Hoshi, who wraps his arm around Wooziâs shoulder during concerts and fanmeets, then chooses to stand on the opposite end of the line when they bow so he can avoid him backstage.
But isnât Hoshi also the same one who keeps them on their feet until not a hair is out of place? Isnât Hoshi the one who is willing to let them bleed until they move synchronously at the whisper of Wooziâs music? Isnât Hoshi, like Woozi, willing to risk it all for their team to be seen as worthy by the world beyond their tiny part of it?
Doesnât Jihoon love him, too?
For a moment, Jihoon believes that this is for the best. That Soonyoung and Jihoon â Hoshi and Woozi â are meant to create beautiful things for the world. That the reason why they work so well together is for everyone elseâs pleasure. Everyone elseâs benefit. Jihoon understands why people write stories about them. Why people believe that they were meant to be together offstage, too. Thatâs how good they are at pretending.
Is Hoshi pretending when heâs with Lee Soohyuk? Is Soonyoung?
Was Hoshi pretending with Jihoon?
It doesnât matter. Shadows only exist in the light. When the light is gone, darkness remains.
Maybe what Jihoon and Soonyoung had was only meant for shadows, where light can be, but where they can hide.
When the curtain falls, Jihoon understands what it means to be left with nothing.
Re: [FILL] lines
Re: [FILL] lines
[FILL] you haven't changed
Major Tags: societal homophobia
Additional Tags: canon divergent
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Vernon stops laughing once he realizes he's the only one doing so. His voice is too loud and echoes through the quiet. On the way into the building, thick dew had clung to the blades of artificial grass lining the planters out front, and he can't help but think of it as his hands start to sweat. "Wait," he says, the penny in his mind always dropping too slowly for this fucking industry, "are you serious?"
"It's a smart idea," says someone from his own team.
"Is it?"
"He's already agreed," another staff member informs him, "so we just need you to sign and we can proceed with the first marketing meeting," and before Vernon can say anything else he's being handed a manila envelope with a contract inside. Standard collab stuff, tentative deadlines and how the company plans to profit-split. How much of that will go to the artists themselves, and itâs never much. Vernon flips through it with a strange sense of calm.
Sure enough, on the bottom of the last page, the other signature is already there.
*
can't believe this shit he messages on the way out. they treat me like a kid
ouch comes the response. so it's happening
yeah and it's gonna be so awkward, idk how i'm gonna survive it. he invited me to his place for dinner tomorrow to 'talk away from cameras'. i just don't want to fight again.
Minghao sends back a link to a meditation retreat he's thinking of attending. Vernon locates enough inner peace not to block him outright for that, and no more.
*
Seungkwan's new apartment glitters the same way in person as it did in the pages of the magazine Vernon guiltily bought at the convenience store the week it came out. White counters, steel appliances, marble in all directions. It's almost astonishingly soulless considering its inhabitant, but Vernon has been informed by reliable sources (Minghao) that it takes a lot of money to make something look this cold, and if Seungkwan was anything when Vernon last saw him it was determined to prove himself.
"Welcome," he's saying, fluttering near the door. He's had lip fillers done recently. Vernon wrenches his gaze away from Seungkwan's mouth and decides to chill the fuck out.
"Thanks. Cool place."
Seungkwan's smile brightens. "Oh, thank you. It's nothing, really. I'm barely here. Do you want a drink? Should we order food?"
âIâd take a beer.â
âAh.â
âNo beer?â
âI have wine,â Seungkwan says. âAnd seltzer. Mostly seltzer.â
âThatâs fine.â
âWe can order beer with the food.â
âSeungkwan-ah,â Vernon says, too familiar just to watch Seungkwanâs cheeks pink. âItâs fine. Relax.â
Seungkwan doesnât, but then Vernon hadnât expected him to. They settle into the rhythm of food delivery, passing Seungkwanâs phone back and forth and commenting on which plates go well together and how many of each they should get. The familiarity bleeds the rest of the unwelcome anxiety from Vernonâs shoulders, and he lets himself relax into the moment. Theyâve done this together a dozen times before. Two dozen, three.
Seungkwan offers industry gossip like an olive branch while they wait for the food. Vernon doesnât know most of these people, nor does he particulary care to, but he listens anyway. Seungkwanâs pretty fingers illustrate his points. His eyebrows raise high on his forehead when heâs telling a particularly shocking part of a story.
The patter lasts through dinner, too â and through the beer Seungkwan added to the order when Vernon wasnât looking. Vernon almost thinks they wonât talk about it all.
And then Seungkwan gets up, bags the trash to put by the door, and whirls around on his heel. âSo youâre featuring on my next title track.â
âYeah,â Vernon says.
âAndâ they told you Iâm writing it? Because itâs not quite done but I have a lot of lyrics. Or, ideas. I have a lot of scraps of things. Jihoon-hyung is helping.â
âThatâs cool of him.â
âYeah. Do youâ did you want to see? So you can start working on your verse? Or maybe we should talk about what image we want to present during our appearances. Itâs just a few schedules, but still. Oh, but we donât have to get into that right now. Letâs talk about music, thatâs easier.â
âRight,â Vernon says. âEither way is fine.â
Seungkwan grimaces. âSorry.â He gestures to himself, rueful, self-effacing. âI havenât changed much. Obviously.â
Donât talk about yourself like that, Vernon almost snaps. The impulse burns in his throat.
âItâs cool,â he says again, and hears how dull it sounds, the way heâs giving Seungkwan nothing and letting him do all the work. âI do want to see what youâve got,â he tries. âI can even sketch a couple things out while Iâm here if you donât mind me staying a little longer.â
âThatâs perfect.â
Seungkwan barrels down the hallway. Vernon hears a door opening and closing, papers shuffling, a muffled curse, and then Seungkwan is returning clutching a journal and a stack of loose notes in his hands.
Itâs transporting. Vernon blinks and heâs three years younger, jaw tight on the bed he and Seungkwan share asking how bad is it? and Seungkwan canât even answer. His hands are shaking as he scrolls through one feed and then another, each of them with pictures of SEVENTEENâs Vernon fierce onstage intermingled with stories of a bad attitude, negative fan interactions, the sideways coloration of suspected queerness following him from the place he was born in but has no allegiance to. Each thing alone would pass on with barely a ripple. Together, alongside a credible rumor that he has âa serious boyfriend who may also be in the entertainment industryâ, itâs a riptide. Fans are burning photocards. Reaction videos are being made of other reactors who are reacting to other reactions, the snake eating its own tail, the eventual awful downswing of fame like this. The HYBE building will be aflame with funeral wreaths by tomorrow morning if it hasnât happened already.
people will get over it, Seungkwan tries to tell him in the memory, but it isnât true. And it comes for him next, though he isnât hit with the same wave of shock and dismay.
Vernon releases hip-hop music on Soundcloud and sells out standing room only shows. Seungkwan leaves the group, too, and has success as an OST mainstay and semi-permanent host on a variety show. And years pass, and they donât talk, and then Seungkwan has to go and arrange this.
Vernon yanks himself back into the moment. âWhy,â he hears himself ask, and he registers how angry he is only when itâs too late to take it back, âwould you agree to this shit? Things have been going so well for you. Do you feel sorry for me, is that what it is?â
Seungkwanâs mouth drops into a soft âoâ of surprise. âSorry?â
âIt was fine. We were fine. And now weâre doing this, but why?â
âHansol-ahââ
âNo one calls me that anymore,â Vernon says. His chest is hot. âI know some fans miss us. I know it wasnât all bad. I know. I miss it too. But god.â
Seungkwanâs eyes brim over with tears, and one tracks crystalline down over the high cut of his cheekbone. âYou donât answer my messages. You donât answer my calls. Are we supposed to just never see each other again? I donât accept that.â
âSo you corner me into a collaboration that could blow up both of our careers? Again?â
âI donât know!â Seungkwan bursts forth, and oh, here, this is what Vernon had been pulling for without realizing. Seungkwan real and raw in front of him. Seungkwan standing up for himself. Proof that the thing between them was and is as explosive as itâs always felt.
Vernon loved Seungkwan the way he loves a mic in his hand â not only for what he represents, but also for the person Vernon becomes when he surrenders the gravity of that love. Itâs stupid to pretend that feeling isnât coming back. Love, thrill, misery. The rise and fall. A kaleidoscope of emotion condensing everything theyâve ever meant to each other into that single tear down Seungkwanâs face, and the dot it creates on the floor.
âWhy did you agree?â Seungkwan asks him. âYou didnât have to. I thought you wanted to see me too.â
âWe shouldnât,â Vernon replies, which is not i donât.
âWell, weâre here. What do you want to do?â
What does Vernon want to do? Here, in Seungkwanâs apartment, no cameras, no microphones, no expectations aside from the ones theyâre putting on each other, heâs adrift.
He reaches his hand out. âShow me what you have so far.â
âYouâll judge based off of the lyrics? Chwe Vernon, youâre just the same.â
How awful, the way Seungkwan doesnât seem to think either of them has changed. How comforting, and how wonderful, and what a goddamn disappointment.
*
howâd it go?
fine, i guess
ah. so youâre heartbroken again.
This contact can no longer send or receive messages from you.
Re: [FILL] you haven't changed
Re: [FILL] you haven't changed
"Wait," he says, the penny in his mind always dropping too slowly for this fucking industry, "are you serious?"
people will get over it, Seungkwan tries to tell him in the memory, but it isnât true. And it comes for him next,
Iâm amazed youâve managed to paint such a vivid picture of the industry with just a few well-placed sentences, as well as of the relationship that was crushed beneath the weight of it and the splinters that vernon is still holding onto
How awful, the way Seungkwan doesnât seem to think either of them has changed. How comforting, and how wonderful, and what a goddamn disappointment.
DEVASTATING. thank you for writing