Round 2: Alternate Universes

[hwarium]

Status: Closed This round has closed. It remains open for fills and comments, but prompts are no longer accepted. Seventeen Holidays Round 2: Alternate Universes About Sometimes its the characters that move us, but sometimes we fall in love with the the world behind the story. Something transformative occurs when we place the characters we love in an unfamiliar world, like the light has shone on a new side and we're seeing them anew. Run to the classics; revisit the magic of Harry Potter, the heart-punch of a Pacific Rim drift, the warmth of a Coffee Shop AU. Or maybe dig your fingers into a story that blew your mind - Battle Royale, The Raven Cycle, Interstellar - or demand better from a book that let you down (The Poppy War fin- mmph). Perhaps! You might combine two of your fandoms for maximum joy (Haikyuu and Tennis adjacent mutuals, I'm looking at you.) The possibilities are literally endless. Do it for the aesthetic, do it for the drama. Examples Wonhui x MDZS/Untamed Wonwoo as Lan Wanji, Jun as Wei Wuxian (Minghao as Jiang Cheng?). I want a cast that feels betrayed and shocked at Junhui's demise but then gradually learning his reasons behind it. Mingyu/Seungkwan Debating AU Imagine them as third speakers in the high school circuit. Rivals! Mortal Enemies! Prepared case summaries derailing into personal attacks, and then when their coach calls them out on it they become passive aggressive e.g. "there are major flaws in the opposition's arguments..." Jeonghan as Mal from Inception Any Jeonghan ship will do. I just want him to chaotically haunt a person while being sexy about it. 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 to the art. You may crop the artwork and embed a SFW preview. How it works Prompting Click on [Post a New Comment] at the bottom of this post; Change the subject to something interesting and saucy; Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment and fill in the sections. Feel free to add as much detail as you want! <strong>Ship/Member:</strong> Any <strong>Major Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Additional Tags:</strong> N/A <strong>Do Not Wants:</strong> None <strong>Prompt:</strong> Filling Reply to the original prompt; Change the subject to [FILL], you may add a title or stay chaotic; Copy+Paste the following HTML into your comment, fill in 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 *** Filling with art/media Do the same as above, also; Upload your work to any platform (twitter, imgur, youtube, soundcloud, google maps, etc.) Insert the link to your work, done! 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>

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Comments

admin note

[hwarium( as admin)]

• comments cannot be edited once someone has replied to it - this is a dreamwidth feature so there's nothing we can do :')
• please remember to change the subject of your fill to "FILL"

• for the AU round, if the AU is a piece of media (a TV show, a book, etc), consider adding enough information so that the prompt could still inspire someone who did not watch/read it :D

• ✧ 17hols twitter search ✧

Seventeen + Debating

[hwarium]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: High School/University
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: Slice of life comedy or contemplative growing up drama. I would love inter-school rivalry, conspiracies about favouritism and jealousy about who-got-scouted-for-State. Also inter-team angst where feelings(?) are complicated with 1st/2nd/3rd speaker insecurities. Or just, write Seventeen debating~ I would love that.

Re: Seventeen + Debating

[kumquat]

this is NOT a fill but i'm crylaughing bc i was nostalgia searching my own priv twitter and randomly found this series of tweets from january 2021 that i'd totally forgotten about LMAOOO

> the fact that ao3 user hwarium's #1 au prompt for 17hols is about high school/college level competitive debate is literally giving me flashbacks....... my almei high school policy debate au just sitting there in my drafts...
> competitive debate as an activity was a mistake. i will not be normalizing romanticizing fetishizing it any further
> unfortunately this prompt is the only one i have any capability to fill in any medium atm. still i will resist the urge

maybe after a few more years of growing up i'll feel normal enough about my cursed high school extracurricular of choice to come back and play in this sandbox but i just thought this was hilarious. also now that i'm on this round again in 2025 did u see risa's original fe3hteen prompt

Interstellar/Time-Dilation

[hwarium]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: Major Character Death (?)
Additional Tags: Science-Fiction, Interstellar spoilers, Voices of a Distant Star, Angst?
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: I'm thinking of the last scene in Interstellar where Cooper sees Murphey again except Cooper has not aged and Murphey is on her deathbed :( Same feeling in Voices of a Distant Star where one party travels through space and stays young, while the other stays on earth and grows old.

[FILL] part of me (gone)

[klav]

Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Jeonghan
Major Tags: Major Character Death
Additional Tags: sci-fi, angst, vague Star Trek universe
Permission to remix: Yes

I AM SO SORRY TO FILL THIS LITERALLY A YEAR LATER I was just cleaning out the docs and found this draft nearly finished and... 17hols is forever right?!

***


“When I desire you
a part of me
is gone.”
—Anne Carson, Eros




When the Voyager emerges from the wormhole, she’s halfway across the Alpha quadrant. It takes Seungcheol an agonizing three minutes to recalibrate the navigation board and make contact with Starfleet base. He rattles off their exact location to the agent, feeling Jihoon’s eyes hot on the side of his face.

“The Barzen wormhole jumped 0.78 parsecs to intercept our flight path at warp. We’ve been moved into unmapped space,” he concludes, running a heavy hand through his hair.

“Captain Choi,” the Lieutenant’s voice returns, shaky and unfamiliar. Seungcheol double-checks they’re on the correct frequency. “Please confirm your mission ID.”

“This is the starship Voyager, mission ID Alpha-496-X. We are 3 years and 5 months into our 5 year mission and we’ve just been misdirected. Please put us in contact with Director Kim immediately.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

Seungcheol exchanges an incredulous glance with Jihoon. “Lieutenant, let me be clear, this is an urgent situation—”

“Director Kim is dead.”

The words don’t register to Seungcheol at first. He sits tall, righteous in the leather-backed chair, with Jihoon’s grip tightening on his shoulder. His thoughts fizzle into static. That can’t be possible. They spoke just this morning.

The Lieutenant continues softly, “Your mission ID has been inactive for 47 years, Captain.”





Time dilation is a phenomenon scarcely mentioned at the Academy. Seungcheol remembers an old campus horror story about an elderly professor who died in her young father’s arms when he returned home from a mission gone wrong.

It doesn’t feel real until they break the news to the crew. Junhui cries. He folds himself onto Jihoon’s shoulder and weeps, “My husband. My husband, I left him.”

Joshua shatters a mug with his bare hands.

Seungcheol stays in the mess hall long after everyone else has left. He sits by the window and holds his holoreader in both hands, watching its dead face glitter with the silver lights of passing stars.

He does the calculations. His parents are dead. His sister is elderly. His—Jeonghan is—

Seungcheol can’t bear to reboot the hologram. He doesn’t know what would be worse—seeing hundreds of missed messages and calls that slowly trickle into silence, irrefutable proof that time marched along without him in tow—or seeing nothing at all, every message lost to the gnawing infinity of space.

47 years.

When Seungcheol tries to sleep that night, he sees Jeonghan’s face. His young, smiling face.





Three weeks later, they dock at headquarters and Seungcheol is accosted in the entrance corridor by a not-quite-familiar face. When the Voyager embarked on her mission, Lee Chan was an energetic first-year student at the Academy who badgered his seniors for advice about mechie exams.

Now he’s the Director.

“Choi Seungcheol, I never thought I would see you again.” Director Lee bows and shakes his hand.

Recognition hurts. Seungcheol feels like he’s had the breath knocked out of him. His own face is a memory for Lee Chan, his body an anachronism in the hallway. He feels, oddly, like a child.

“Thank you for greeting us, sir,” Seungcheol says, and his voice does not shake.

“Of course,” Director Lee says warmly. Wrinkles line his kind face. “I had to welcome you personally. I’m sure this has been a shock. Do you know where you’re headed? Need a guide?”

“No need for a tour, sir, we’ve been told to report to Medical. After that, I’m afraid we have no immediate orders…?”

Seungcheol lets his question hang heavy in the air.

Director Lee looks surprised. “Orders? Captain Choi, you’ve…” His eyes cut to the side, where the crew have lapsed into silence in favor of staring at the skyline of a Seoul they do not recognize. “You’ve done your duty. No orders. You’re all let go with lifetime pensions.”

This time, it’s Jihoon who starts to cry.





On their last night together, they bundled themselves into each other’s coats and drove out to the grassy field where they’d first met. The stars were a backdrop of the future. Seungcheol got Jeonghan flat on his back, blonde hair like a blanket beneath his neck, lips pink from the kissing and the cold.

He dug around in his own jacket sleeves to find Jeonghan’s hands, swallowed by fabric, warm and soft.

That’s where I’m headed, Seungcheol said, and pointed vaguely to the Alpha quadrant. His breath became a plume of steam. They were huddled so close that Jeonghan sucked it back when he replied, exchanging air between their bodies like they were one and the same.

Jeonghan’s eyes glittered. He twisted the ring on his finger. So far away! Be careful out there. I’ll miss you.

I already miss you, Seungcheol said. It’s only five years, but—

I’ll be here when you get back, Jeonghan said, and kissed him.

A lifetime ago.





It takes almost a week to track down Yoon Jeonghan, 76 years old, living in the suburbs of Yongsan-gu with his husband. Six days of wandering down the guest corridors of Starfleet Headquarters in the dead of night, avoiding interview requests from the media, avoiding the stares of curious strangers. Avoiding himself.

Seungcheol is a ghost until he gets Jeonghan’s address. Then, he gears up to be a memory.

He wears a pretty little suit and drives a pretty little company car and his hands shake the whole goddamn time. The name of Jeonghan’s husband is blown out of his head like a dandelion seed. Inertia keeps him in motion.

At the quaint two-storey house down Gieok Lane, Seungcheol knocks.

A stranger answers.

Seungcheol’s breath whooshes out of him, relief tangled with disappointment. It’s not Jeonghan. This man is around the same age, with a gorgeous smile and deep-set crow’s feet. His moles are a constellation worth photographing. He’s horribly handsome in a soft frock and golden specs.

The man’s face goes slack with shock. It would be comical if Seungcheol weren’t terrified out of his mind. “You’re here.”

“I am.” Seungcheol laces his fingers behind his back; in distress, falls back upon company training. “My name is Choi Seungcheol. I’m looking for—Yoon Jeonghan-ssi. Is that okay?”

“Yes! Please, come in. I’m Lee Seokmin.” Seokmin opens the door wider. The smell of fresh bread and parsley warms the air. “We heard about the Voyager. We were wondering when you’d come.”





Jeonghan is as accommodating as ever.

They sit on the back porch overlooking a little pond. Cattails wave from the marshy shore. A hare darts from underneath the wooden baseboards and bullets into the undergrowth. Behind the house, the sun is setting, and the sky is ripe with pink and gold.

Seungcheol’s mouth is dry. He can’t bear to look at Jeonghan directly, it’s worse than staring into the sun. Like knowing a star has already blown out millions of light years away and you’re looking at a dead thing before it’s dead.

But he can feel the warmth of Jeonghan’s eyes on his face. So he takes a deep breath and readies himself for conversation.

Jeonghan is still beautiful.

No, more beautiful. His forehead has wrinkled into worry lines. His hair is white and cropped below the ears, so close to the silver he had during the first year of university. Strands blow across the bridge of his nose and he peels them back with the same perfect wrists. When he sat down, his knees cracked, but his spine is straight and his eyes are clear.

His voice, when he speaks, is slower. “Cheollie, it’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Seungcheol says quietly.

“Aish, drop the honorifics.” Jeonghan smiles. “It’s still me.”

Seungcheol nods and fakes a smile right back. This man is in so many ways a stranger. He has no clue what to say. There’s no easy way to bridge 50 years. But part of Seungcheol, a selfish and masochistic part, wants to hear everything.

“On our last call,” he begins at the beginning. “You said… you were thinking about going back to school.”

“Oh. I did, after a few years. I became a teacher.”

“I bet you’re good at it.”

“I was.” Jeonghan smiles down at his own lap, reliving a private happiness. “I won a few awards, isn’t that funny? But I retired years ago.”

Seungcheol rubs a hand over his face. Starts jiggling his leg. “Jeonghan,” his voice wavers. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t—”

“I left you behind.” I got left behind.

An awful silence falls over the porch. Seungcheol tries to swallow around the fist of emotion in his throat and can’t.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says his name like a prayer. “You died. In my life, I mourned you. Getting to see you again, like this—” He gestures to Seungcheol’s face. “It’s a blessing. There’s nothing to apologize for. Of course not! I’m happy knowing you get a chance to live, even if it’s not with me.”

Seungcheol lowers his head and cries.

It hurts worse knowing that Jeonghan is still the same person inside. That’s exactly the selfless kind of sentiment he would’ve shared when they were kids getting different test scores, when they were teenagers unsuccessfully teaching each other to play piano.

If he tries, Seungcheol can still recall the piney smell of the piano bench, the warmth of Jeonghan’s hands eclipsing his own over the keys. The teasing laughter that Jeonghan left in the curve of his neck.

“I wanted it to be you,” Seungcheol confesses.

If it were me, he thinks, I still would’ve loved you after 50 years. After a hundred.

Jeonghan lays his hand on Seungcheol’s knee. The oval diamond of his wedding band is embedded like a teardrop in gold.

“Me too.”





Seungcheol doesn’t stay for dinner. Can’t.

He bids goodbye to Jeonghan on the porch and they both know it’s for the last time. Their hug is gentle, and Jeonghan smells different—wrong—like another man’s cooking, another man’s cologne. Sharp and cool.

It lingers in Seungcheol’s nose when he backtracks through the house. Moving photographs are scattered throughout the living room. Children with frizzy hair falling into the pond. Younger children smearing tomato sauce all over their chubby, shining faces. Seokmin laughing.

Last along the row: A middle-aged Jeonghan with a cat in his arms, turning over one shoulder to smile at the camera, backlit by the afternoon sun. He’s wearing someone else’s coat; his arms drown in the sleeves, his hands obscured.

Seungcheol hesitates there. Seokmin is leading him toward the front door, but he stops and follows his gaze.

“That’s one of my favorites,” Seokmin says gently. “Jeonghan has a knack for animals. They’ll do anything he says.”

Seungcheol draws a shaky breath. When he imagined his future, it always looked like this. He brushes his fingers over the frame.

“I know,” he says simply.

Seokmin’s eyes go soft. “He never forgot about you, you know. If… I mean, you could come back to visit anytime.”

Seungcheol flinches and drops his hand. “I can’t. But thank you.”

Seokmin probably thinks he is being kind by offering. But Seungcheol has changed his mind: he doesn’t want to know the specifics. How long Jeonghan hoped. If he kept the ring.

The sun slips below the horizon. Seungcheol has an hour and a half of driving ahead of him. He nods uncomfortably to Seokmin and hurries out the front door, taking deep gulps of clean air like he can expel the metaphorical stones in his chest with a good sigh.

He feels so heavy. Lonelier than he ever felt in deep space. Seungcheol’s halfway down the front path when a voice calls out behind him.

“Wait!” Seokmin walks outside, eyes round behind his specs. “If you aren’t coming back—do you—would you like to take this?”

He holds out the moving photograph of Jeonghan.

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip. He can’t even hate Seokmin? He’s not granted that mercy, at least? His hands shake when he accepts the photograph. Thank you gets lodged in his throat like he tried swallowing a tombstone.

He leaves. Doesn’t look back.





Later, Seungcheol will install that moving photograph at a neat grave site that he only ever visits once.

Jeonghan as Mal from Inception

[hwarium]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: Major Character Death(?)
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: That's it, that's the prompt. I do want to see him haunt a person but in his own chaotically-Jeonghan way with his teasing banter and cheating. Feel free to go the angst-route a la Inception but the 'Jeonghan is just sexy' route is also (chefs kiss)

high school extracurriculars coming back to haunt me

[luvisms]

Ship/Member: Any, although I'd love to see age lines (especially fond of 96z for this prompt) or you can build your own dream team!
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: high school AU
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: quizbowl, quiz team, academic bowl, whatever you call it! give me 3-5 nerds trying to flex their intellectual superiority over other nerds via answering useless trivia questions!
cameos from other groups would also be super fun (it is a secret desire of mine to see svt 96z square off against nct 96z, but feel free to bring in your own favorite non-svt kpop boys and girls!)

294 days til halloween

[luvisms]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: violence? enemies to lovers
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: ~he was a vampire, he was a vampire hunter, can i make it any more obvious~ (doesn't have to be a vampire, that's what came to mind first but feel free to go crazy go stupid with your sexy beast of choice! happy monsterf*cking <3)

[FILL]: Can I Make It Any More Obvious?

[thesolemneyed]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Seungkwan
Major Tags: Vampire/Vampire Hunter
Additional Tags: University AU
Permission to remix: Please ask

- Teen and Up
- 1.6k
- Chapter 1/?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936260/chapters/70998276

the epic highs and lows of high school [checks smudge on hand] tennis

[luvisms]

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

Prompt: doesn't have to be high school! arch-rivals or doubles partners, what can you do with two (or more) boys, their racquets, and a tennis ball? is it possible to write an entire sports anime into a 1k fill? i don't know, but let's get some jocks in here!

[FILL] the svt tennis match up of my dreams

[hwarium]

Ship/Member: Gen
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Permission to remix: Yes

***

OP you sniped me so hard tenipuri was my childhood obsession and I've been thinking about this since November (WAVES)

(click to expand!)





It's on twitter here!

teacher channie

[capricornia]

Ship/Member: Chan/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe--Teachers
Do Not Wants: teacher/current student

Prompt: Teacher AU--Chan as a teacher of some sort (dance instructor? Montessori Children's House guide? biology professor? you decide!), Character B up to you (fellow teacher, random dude, parent, former student, ghost haunting Chan's apartment, etc.)! I just think teacher self-care is really important, you know? And what better way to care for your favorite teacher than...

NSFW totally okay! (Don't forget to tag!)

smells like domesticity

[thesolemneyed]

Ship/Member: single father seokmin would actually finish me off
Major Tags:
Additional Tags: fluff, domesticity, found family?

established relationship? new love? fallen out of love falling back in love??? honestly anything with that 'dancing in the kitchen' vibe will hit the spot

[Fill]: Looks like Found Family

[thisisrose]

Ship/Member: Seokmin/Soonyoung, past Seokmin/Jeonghan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Domestic, Sugar, Petnames, Single Parent, Rule 63 on Seungkwan for a daughter mwahahah
Permission to remix: Please ask

***



"Honeybear! It's time to get up!!"

"Papa, NO."

"Sugglebug, yes."

"Papa, NO."

"Light of my life, Yes."

"PAPA, NO!"

"Sweetcheeks, YES!"

Seungah stepped out of her bedroom into the hall, blanket and teddy clutched in one hand and pouted at him. "Papa, I don't wanna go to school."

"I know you don't," Seokmin said with a half smile, "But I made pancakes and we have freshly squeezed orange juice, does that sound nice?"

"Pancakes with butter and lemon and sugar?"

"Of course, sweetheart, what do you take me for?"

Seungah squeezed her teddy tighter and shuffled down the hall, leaning against his legs and Seokmin rubbed her shoulders. She hated school. Until she got there and then she loved it, loved singing loudly with her friends at break, and calling the teacher to tell her that someone was cheating at maths, and breaking up her snacks to give to the little girl who only ever seemed to have an apple for lunch.

"Ready for breakfast?"

Seungah sighed and nodded, pushing past him into the kitchen and Seokmin smiled. Good.



"Now remember, honey–" Seokmin turned around in the car seat once he'd pulled into the car spot– "Your Appa is going to be picking you up later, alright?"

"Why?"

"Because I have a meeting. He'd going to bring you to the park, alright?"

"Ice-cream?"

"Maybe. Depends if you're good or not, doesn't it?" In a way it did. If her teacher was displeased, she'd probably wrangle sympathy ice-cream off Jeonghan after he gave her a talk, but if she was good she'd probably wrangle reward ice-cream off him. He was ... good to her.

But not necessarily right for her.

But that didn't matter.

Not right now anyway.

"Am I staying over?"

"Would you like to?" Lately, she didn't want to. He knew it was upsetting Jeonghan, but there wasn't much he could do. If she didn't want to stay with him neither of them were ever going to make her.

"Can I stay with Appa tonight? And bring Benny?"

"Of course. I'll drop Benny over later on, okay?"

Seungah nodded. "Okay, Papa."

Sorted then. Seokmin grabbed her bag and opened the doors, holding her hand as she jumped out of the car and threatened to run ahead of him, her tiny plaits bouncing as she hopped on the spot and waited for him to lock the car.

"Papa~"

"Okay, okay, okay, let's go tiny spider."

"Spider? I'm not a spider!"

"Are you a earwig?"

"No!"

"A ladybird?"

"No, Papa!"

"Okay, okay, I know. You're a tiny koala."

"No! I'm Seungah!"

"Oh yes! Of course you are, you're my tiny, weeny, itsy bitsy, Seungah!" Seokmin crouched down to kiss her on the nose as they halted outside her classroom.

Seungah stared at him. "Papa, you're silly."

"I love you lots, tiny thing."

"I love you too, Papa." Seungah nodded decisively and took her school bag off Seokmin before leaning to kiss his cheek and turning to march into her classroom, lilac raincoat disappearing into the mass of excited children. Seokmin didn't envy her teacher. Not one bit.




Jeonghan texted him to say that Seungah had had a smoothie instead of ice cream and that they were making dinner and could she call him later before bed. Seokmin said of course she could, and pocketed his phone, hurrying up the subway steps out onto the main square and dancing his way across the cobblestones to the tiny door in the corner, squeezed between a pharmacy and a convent. He rang the bell.

The door swung open and Soonyoung beamed at him, "Hi! I'm just in before you, come on, up the stairs." He ushered him up two flights of stairs to a landing, and dropped his umbrella and three bags down while he fumbled for the keys.

Seokmin picked up two of the bags, and Soonyoung cheered as he found the key, turned it in the lock and elbowed the door open, grabbing the other bag and his umbrella.

Once they'd put the bags on the counter and shrugged off raincoats, Soonyoung caught Seokmin by the elbows.

"Hi," he smiled the word, cheeks bright and Seokmin leaned forward to touch his nose to his.

"Hi."

Soonyoung smiled wider and pulled him closer, "You look happy."

"I am happy."

Soonyoung hummed and kissed him, gentle but like spring, bright and full of life. Seokmin thought that he could spent a suspended infinity here, in this kitchen, in his arms, tucked between a humming fridge and a dripping tap, with the ice cream slowly melting on the counter and a clock ticking from the bathroom. Soonyoung grinned against his lips and pulled back to press a dozen tiny kisses to the corners of his lips.

"You're happy too." Seokmin kissed.

"Good day at work. One of my patients sang along to the radio, first time I've ever heard her speak. It was amazing."

Seokmin kissed his cheek, "That's brilliant."

"Yeah, we looked up the song, she would have been thirteen and a bit when it came out. Amazing how she knew nearly all the words."

"What songs came out when you were thirteen?"

"Aigoo Seokminnie~" Soonyoung pulled back, "Don't call attention to my age!"

"You're only a year—"

"Are you calling me old! Why, when I was this high to a grasshopper you were—"
Seokmin shook with laughter and pulled Soonyoung closer still, winding his fingers through the belt loops on the back of Soonyoung's slacks and kissing his cheek until Soonyoung stopped and turned to kiss him firmly.

"Dinner."

"Ah, hyung."

"Ah-ah, dinner. You promised me you'd show me how to do asparagus tips."

"I did."

"So I bought them, and crab claws and some cheese? Can you show me how to do that dish you did on TV last week?" Soonyoung pulled away and hurried over to the shopping bags, digging through them to lay everything out on the counter, hopping around the island to grab two aprons and a hairband and pushing his hair away from his face.

"Of course I will, let's put everything away first, the ice cream is melting—"

"Oh shit!"



Soonyoung wasn't the worlds best chef, or the most attentive cook, but Seokmin stood behind him— feeling like a character out of a cheesy book— and guided him to cut and slice and chop and dice the ingredients, talked him through the frying and boiling and simmering, and coaxed him through cleaning the crab claws. Soonyoung winced and squirmed the entire way through but turned to him with the biggest smile when he was finished.


Seokmin's phone rang just as he was setting the table, and he shuffled into the bedroom to take it.

"Hi."

"Hi, Seokmin-ah," Jeonghan always insisted on speaking Korean and sometimes it drove him mad. "Seungah is all ready for bed and she wanted to talk to you, are you free?"

"Of course I am. How is she?"

"Good, she's good. She got a gold star in school, but I'll let her tell you. Seungah-ya? Your Papa is on the phone."

"Hi Papa! How's your meeting?" Seungah switched to English the second she took the phone and Seokmin smiled.

"It's going well, sweet cheeks."

"That's good."

"How was your day, are you enjoying being at Appa's?"

"I caught a frog in school! He was all soft and didn't try to jump away, Minghao said he was scared of me, but Teacher said I was so gentle that he didn't notice he was in my hands."

"Wow, chicken! That's amazing!"

He could hear Seungah nodding, "And I got a gold star for my maths! Teacher said I did 'very well'."

"I'm so proud."

"And Appa made smoothies."

"Did he?"

"With apple and banana and orange and berries, and—" Seungah pulled away from to phone to ask Jeonghan—"yoghurt and ice."

"That sounds really tasty, sweetheart, did you like it?"

"Yes. Appa should make smoothies all the time."

"I'll tell him you said that."

"Good. He should."

"Are you ready for bed?"

"Yeah, Appa did my hair all nice and I washed my teeth and my face and my hands and Appa has Benny—"
Seokmin smiled, squeezing his eyes shut.
"—And I'm in my pyjamas. Good night, Papa."

"Good night, duckie."

"'M not a duck, Papa."

"A chicken?"

"Not a chicken."

"A fishie?"

"Papa! I'm not a fishie!"

"What about a koala bear?"

"Maybe I'm a koala bear." Seungah murmured and Seokmin could hear Jeonghan's amused chuckle.

"I think you are, honey." The words were whispered nearly too quietly for Seokmin to hear.

"Papa, Appa says I'm a koala bear."

"Does he?"

"Yes."

"Well then it must be true."

"Night, Papa."

"Goodnight, my little koala bear." Seokmin hung up and put the phone down. God he hated life sometimes.



"Minnie?"

Seokmin looked up.

"Can I meet her?"

"Yeah," Seokmin blinked back the tears and nodded, "Are you free Saturday?"

"Really? Yes, absolutely, she's going to love me."

"She still doesn't understand, not really. It's been so long and she doesn't get it."

"She sees him, of course its hard for her."

"Not as often as she should," Seokmin stood and shook his head, "Not as often as she should."

"I can just be your friend to her if that's easier? At least for a while."

"I'll think about it? Jeonghan had a date a while back, she didn't find it weird, but she hardly ever reacts the same to both of us. Maybe for a bit? Just a month, no longer."

Soonyoung rocked up onto his toes to kiss his cheek, "Of course. What about the zoo?"

"Picnic?"

"If you make it, absolutely."

"You have to bring the snacks, you're better at snacks."

"A culinary complement from the great chef himself? What is this?" Soonyoung touched the back of his hand to his forehead and fainted into the chair with a smile and Seokmin couldn't help the laughter.

"Let's see what this tastes like and you can have more than a culinary compliment."

"Saucy," Soonyoung sat back up and lifted his glass of rosé, "I like it."

"Chin chin."

"Chin chin!"







Seungah was beyond excited. She spent the morning reciting animals alphabetically ('A is for Ant, Papa, and B is for Baboon, C is for Cat and D is for Dinosaur.' 'I don't think you'll see any dinosaurs, pup—' 'Of course I will.') and had picked out her very favourite skirt to wear on top of her jeans— if she'd picked anything up from her Appa it would have had to be his horrendous fashion taste— with a massive orange hoodie and bright green bobbins for her pigtails.
Seokmin packed the wicker picnic basket into the boot of the car and belted her in with a kiss.

"Do you remember who we're meeting?"

"Papa's ~friend~."

"His name is Soonyoung. Can you remember that?"

Seungah looked at him in offense, "Of course I can, Papa, I'm not a baby."

"Alright sugarplum."

"Let's go!!"




The drive went quickly even with Seungah's constant 'are we there yet' questions, and Seokmin parked the car and opened her door, kneeling in front of her and holding her hands.

"Baby bear? Can you promise me that you'll be nice to Soonyoung? He's a very good friend of mine and he's excited to meet you."

"Can we see the penguins?"

"If you're really good we can go visit the red pandas."

"I'll be good," Seungah nodded her head, "Will Soonyoung like me?"

"Of course he will. You're the most adorable and clever and kind little panda in the world!"

"Papa, I'm not a panda."

"No? What are you?"

"I'm a shark."
Seokmin laughed loudly and Seungah pouted at him, "Papa~"

"I'm sorry sharkling, let's go!"




Soonyoung met them just inside the front gates, stamping his feet in the cold air and patting his mitten clad hands together, looking very much like a penguin in his black raincoat and Seokmin bend down to Seungah's ear.

"See that man there? With the bright purple mittens?"

"The penguin man?"

"Yeah. That's Soonyoung."

Seungah nodded and gripped onto his trousers tightly as Seokmin straightened up. They'd put the picnic basket into a locker to collect later on, so he reached down to take her hand and walk over to him.

"Seokminnie!!!!! Hi! It's so cold!!" Soonyoung beamed at him and then turned to Seungah. "Hi Seungah. Your Papa told me lots about you—"

"Good things?" Seungah turned into Seokmin's leg slightly and Soonyoung nodded.

"Lots of good things. Like how you're a koala, and a panda, and a little wriggly squid—"

"Papa!! I'm not a squid!!"

"I'm sorry—"

Seungah took a step forward, "I'm a shark."

Soonyoung gasped dramatically, "A shark! Oh my goodness, you're so terrifying, Seokmin save me what will I do—"

Seungah giggled and looked at Seokmin, "Papa, he's silly."

"I know, baby bun."

"I like him."

"Do you?"

Seungah nodded, "Let's go see the elephants."



By the time they reached the monkeys, Seungah had abandoned Seokmin and had hitched a ride on Soonyoung's shoulders, tapping his head every now and then to get him to turn around.

"Papa, look!"

"I see sharklet."



Seungah returned to Seokmin when they had their lunch, pushing herself up until she could sit in Seokmin's lap and pull his coat around her, tucking her hands into his pockets and shivering.

"Papa, I'm cold."

"It's really cold isn't it. Do you want to finish looking at the animals or have lunch in the car and go home?"

Seungah looked between him and Soonyoung, "But, but we're meeting Soonyoung?"

"He can come have lunch with us if you'd like?"

Seungah hummed and then nodded, "Sharks don't like the cold. I'm not a polar bear, Papa. To the car!!"



Soonyoung and Seungah got on so well that by the time Soonyoung had to go home, Seungah threw herself at him for a hug.

"Thank you for bringing the snacks!"

"You're very welcome Seungah." Soonyoung hugged her gently and Seungah squeezed tight before pulling away.

"Come again soon?"

"I'd love to. Maybe we can feed the ducks?"

"With peas! Not bread, cause Papa says ducks don't like bread."

Soonyoung smiled, eyes crackling up and his whole face beaming. "Of course."

Seokmin stepped out of the car to say goodbye, feeling brave enough to squeeze in a tiny kiss and Soonyoung smiled against his lips.
"I love her."

"I love you."

"Safe home, Minnie."

"Text me?"

"Of course I will."

And then he was gone, and Seokmin sat back into the car.
"Ready to go home?"

"Papa?" Seungah started and Seokmin turned. She had a grin as big as a banana on her face, "Are you and Soonyoung penguins?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you gonna stay together for ever and ever and keep be between your feet?"

He had such a perceptive daughter.
"Maybe, sharklet. What do you think?"

"I like him. He gives nice hugs and he's funny."

"I'm glad you like him."

"He can call me sharklet too." Seungah said finally and turned to look out the window.

Well, that had gone exceedingly well.



///

I have fallen in love.
Formatting is annoying me so pls excuse it!!
And yes I did try to rhyme like Hamilton for my title not at all sorry.
Rose xx

blade runner

[surjamukhi]

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

Prompt: Anything with hardboiled sci-fi vibes, androids, neo-noir, etc.

[FILL] went looking for a creation myth

[icarusundone]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Minghao, Mingyu/Wonwoo
Major Tags: Major Character Death
Additional Tags: Science Fiction, Androids, more of a do androids dream of electric sheep au than a blade runner au, just me shamelessly ripping scenes from do androids dream of electric sheep
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Xu Minghao doesn’t act much like an android. Sitting at his dressing table, he watches Mingyu fumble with a briefcase. Minghao’s still in costume, his pale face and red makeup making him look identical to the red-crowned crane listing in the Sidney’s catalogue. Unlike red-crowned cranes though, Minghao is not yet extinct.

If Mingyu were not given the information sheets detailing the escaped Nexus-6 androids from Mars, then he would have assumed that Xu Minghao was human. He’s a dan performer, good enough to join and tour with a Beijing opera company. Evidently the Nexus-6 brain units had improved from their predecessors, as androids were now seeking the limelight instead of simply surviving.

Mingyu manages to unzip his briefcase and pull out the Voigt-Kampff instruments. Minghao eyes the apparatus, distrustful.

“I’m afraid my Korean is not that good,” he says in flawless Korean, “so I don’t know how helpful the results will be.”

Mingyu looks up from angling the pencil light to stare at Minghao.

“I’m a performer, Mr. Kim, of course my accent needs to be good,” Minghao explains. “That doesn’t mean that I’ll be able to understand what you ask me.” Mingyu gets up to press the adhesive disk with wires against Minghao’s cheek, but Minghao turns his head, his lips brushing over Mingyu’s hand. He almost drops the disk.

“Thank you, Mr. Kim,” Minghao says, taking the disk out of Mingyu’s hand to attach to his own cheek. “Shall we start then?” Despite his air of nonchalance, he radiates a type of coldness. The android that Mingyu retired this morning had given off the same coldness. And, Mingyu reminds himself, the same coldness had eventually surrounded Wonwoo too.

△△△

The first thing Mingyu notices when he lands his hovercar on the rooftop of the Jeon Corporation building in Seoul is the young man waiting for him. The second thing Mingyu notices is the animals. A section of the roof is dedicated to spacious enclosures adorned with flora, designed to mimic the animals’ natural habitats. He elects to ignore the man, instead walking toward the enclosures.

Mingyu peers at one of the displays, a fox lazily basking in the early morning light.

“We acquired him last year,” the man says from behind him. Mingyu turns around and notices him. He has black hair and a sharp face, wearing a long coat and turtleneck. He holds out his hand for Mingyu to shake.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” he introduces himself. “I guess you’re with the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency.”

“That would be me,” Mingyu says. “Whoever makes your artificial animals does a great job. I can hardly tell that it’s electric.”

Wonwoo smiles, showing neat, even teeth. “You misunderstand me, Mr. Kim. He’s a real fox.”

“How’s that possible? Foxes were one of the first animals to go extinct.” Mingyu pulls out his Sidney’s catalogue, ready to flip to the listing.

“We don’t buy from Sidney’s,” Wonwoo says, “and the price that we paid for him is more than you could afford, even with the bounty from six androids.” He raises an eyebrow. “Does it help your empathy? Trading in androids for funds toward your next animal purchase?”

Mingyu bristles. “And what about it? Androids who escape to Earth have clearly malfunctioned. They’re a danger to everyone. In fact, you could argue that it’s the Jeon Corporation’s fault for manufacturing brain units that are more and more humanlike.”

“We’re simply meeting the colonists’ demands. They want more intelligent androids, so we’re happy to do everything we can to fulfill their request,” Wonwoo says calmly. “And what are you working for? The dream of owning a real animal? Obtaining enough funds so that you can leave Earth? Forgive me, but I don’t think you have any moral high ground here.” A buzz from Wonwoo’s watch interrupts any possible response. “Well, the selection of androids is ready now. Follow me, please.”

Without looking back, Wonwoo turns and walks toward the elevator, Mingyu left behind to catch up. And what about my dream is so ludicrous, Mingyu wants to ask. It’s the worst feeling in the world, coming home from a day of retiring androids and then having to pretend to love an electric animal.

Mingyu chances a look back at the fox, pretending for a moment that he owns it. And then he looks forward and follows Wonwoo.

△△△

Minghao’s test is inconclusive. Although he had warned Mingyu that his Korean was poor, Mingyu failed to realize just how many questions Minghao would ask. From making Mingyu clarify vocabulary to latching onto one part of the question and going on tangents, Minghao renders every question useless.

Mingyu frustratedly packs up his briefcase after the last question. Minghao is still sitting at his dressing table, head tilted in curiosity.

“So, Mr. Kim,” he asks, “am I an android?” His eyes shine with amusement.

Mingyu grits his teeth and says nothing. He imagines what an unpoised Minghao would look like.

Minghao smiles, like they’re conspirators and he’s sharing a secret. “Mr. Kim, I do wonder if perhaps you are an android.”

The possibility of Mingyu being an android is so absurd that he sputters out, “What?”

“You are a bounty hunter, after all. And androids don’t care about other androids.” Minghao turns back to the mirror, picking up his headpiece from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, rehearsal will be starting again soon.”

△△△

“You’re an android,” Mingyu says, done with the test. He hasn’t even seen any of the Jeon Corporation’s android selection yet; Wonwoo had taken one look at his briefcase and declared that he would like to be tested.

Wonwoo blinks. “Impossible,” he says. He glances at the handler, who’s supposed to show Mingyu the selection of androids. “That’s impossible, right?”

“He’s not an android,” the handler affirms.

“According to Voigt-Kampff test, you’re an android,” Mingyu says.

“The Voigt-Kampff test is based on emphatic responses toward animals,” Wonwoo says. “Of course I was going to fail that, I didn’t grow up learning how to care about animals.”

“How’s that possible?” Mingyu asks. After World War Terminus and the mass extinctions, people had started caring for the remaining animals and it was a crime for a family not to own an animal. Even now, when it was no longer a crime, people still stigmatized those without animals.

“Mr. Jeon grew up on the Salander 3 ship,” the handler explains. “His knowledge of Earth is mostly from books and the other passengers’ experiences. And of course, you can’t expect a ship headed for the off-world colonies to house live animals.”

Wonwoo’s bewilderment morphs into indignation. “You were going to retire me,” he accuses Mingyu. “Your fear was that the Nexus-6 androids were too humanlike and would pass as human under your test. Instead, I passed as an android.” He glares at Mingyu. “How many humans have you killed because you thought they were androids?”

△△△

Mingyu scowls at the information sheet. Xu Minghao, Beijing opera performer, allegedly from Anshan. The words “Model: Nexus-6” taunt him. He glances at the vidscreen in his hovercar before deciding to read over his next target’s information sheet.

△△△

“Very well then,” Mingyu says, beginning to pack up his briefcase. The adhesive disk is still on Wonwoo’s cheek. He sighs. “And I was looking forward to buying beondegi with the bounty money too.”

The dial indicators don’t react fast enough.

△△△

Mingyu stands next to Minghao, who’s admiring a painting depicting dead soldiers in a long ago Earthen war.

“Does this remind you of the humans that you killed to escape the colonies?” Mingyu asks.

“Not particularly,” Minghao responds, and then glances over, unable to mask the surprise on his face when he sees Mingyu.

Mingyu smiles grimly. “If you would come with me, please.” He doubts that Minghao would want to be retired inside the museum, his body the newest art display.

Minghao appears resigned to his fate, his face no longer painted but still pale. He reminds Mingyu of the second android that he had retired today, the way it had shut down when he had cornered it. “I will if you buy me a print of this painting.”

△△△

Mingyu sits in his hovercar and dials the number that he had been given earlier today. A few moments later, Wonwoo’s face appears on the vidscreen.

“Mr. Kim,” he says. “How is the bounty hunting treating you?”

“I need to retire three more androids tonight,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo’s eyes widen. “You already retired three of the Nexus-6s.”

“The last three are near the edge of my jurisdiction. Tomorrow, they’ll be gone.”

“And what do you want me to do about that?” Wonwoo asks. “No one’s taken out six Nexus-6s in one day.”

“You’re also a Nexus-6, aren’t you? You know how they operate.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “You’re not thinking clearly. Give it a rest and continue the assignment tomorrow.”

“The assignment will be gone tomorrow.” Mingyu doesn’t know why he bothered trying to reason with an android. “I’m going after them tonight with or without your help.”

“Listen, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says rapidly. “Send me your location. We can rent a hotel room and discuss the logistics from there, alright?” It almost sounds like he cares.



Mingyu half-expects Wonwoo to break his promise, which is why it’s all the more surprising when there’s a knock on his hotel room. He opens the door to find Wonwoo on the other side, his coat buttoned up wrong, a lone button resting on the hollow of his neck.

“I still think you’re mad,” Wonwoo says, barging into the room. “Where are the information sheets?”

Wordlessly, Mingyu hands him the sheets on the three remaining androids. Wonwoo sits on the bed and reads through them, laughing when he reaches the last sheet.

“What?” Mingyu asks.

“One of them’s the same model as me,” Wonwoo says, pointing to the last android’s model number. “I wonder if you’ll be able to pull the trigger on him.” His lips curl up. “Or maybe you’ll be too busy wondering if you should kiss or kill him that he kills you first.”

“Thanks for your concern, but maybe I won’t even find him.”

Wonwoo doesn’t look up. “Stop pouting,” he says. “They’ll all be hiding together, it’s how we’re programmed.” He sticks a hand in one of his coat pockets, fishing around for something.

After a few seconds, Wonwoo smiles triumphantly, evidently having found what he was looking for, and holds up a metal contraption. “All you have to do,” he says, “is target the back of his neck. This disrupts his vagus nerve and he’ll stop breathing for long enough that you can cut him open with your laser tube.” He hands the contraption over. “What do you say, Mingyu,” he says pleasantly, “want to test it on me? Or would you rather kiss me?” Wonwoo peers up at Mingyu, his eyes guileless.

In response, Mingyu kneels between Wonwoo’s legs, gently placing a hand behind Wonwoo’s neck so that he can tilt Wonwoo’s head down to bring their lips together. When they break apart, Wonwoo’s cheeks are red, like a real human, Mingyu notes.

“Have you ever slept with an android before?” Wonwoo asks, starting to unbutton his coat.

“No,” Mingyu says.

“Have you ever wanted to?”

Mingyu ignores the image of Minghao that pops up in his mind, choosing instead to loosen his tie. “Why?” he asks. “Are you offering?”

Wonwoo laughs, his nose scrunching. “Well, aren’t you bright.”

△△△

Mingyu retires Minghao on the museum rooftop, Mars somewhere up above them beyond the dust and ruin.

One shot to the base of his skull, and Xu Minghao is no more than a pile of spare android parts.

Mingyu grabs a blanket from his hovercar to drape over the body, hesitating when he notices that Minghao is still hugging the print that Mingyu had bought him. A corner is singed. He gently pries the print from Minghao’s hands and places the blanket over Minghao, a makeshift burial shroud.

He then sits in his hovercar, pulling up one of Minghao’s performances on his vidscreen, watching in silence while he waits for the police to retrieve the body.

△△△

Afterwards, Mingyu dresses himself while Wonwoo sits in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist.

“Here,” Mingyu says, handing over the print of The Capture of Carthage to Wonwoo. It’s singed in the corner from a laser tube.

“I’ve never received a gift before,” Wonwoo says, gently cradling the print. “But then again, I’ve only existed for two years.”

“Two years?”

Wonwoo smiles thinly. “Nexus-6 androids have a four-year lifespan. So don’t worry, those three Nexus-6 androids won’t terrorize Earth for that much longer.”

Mingyu stares at him. “What do you mean?”

“You won’t be able to hunt androids anymore,” Wonwoo states. “No bounty hunter has gone on after being with me. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he says, noticing Mingyu’s anguish, “did you really think that anything was going to happen? Did you want me to beg and plead that I was human? Somehow prove my humanity with a family photo?” He reaches for his coat, now a puddle on the floor, and grabs a cigarette and lighter from a coat pocket. He stares at the cigarette, pausing before flicking the lighter on and igniting the end.

“Do you know all of them?”

“The androids? I suppose so. I only know three now, since you killed the rest.” Wonwoo breathes out cigarette smoke. “What did you think of Xu Minghao? We were close friends.”

“I liked him.” Liked him enough to buy the print that he asked for, even though Mingyu was saving up his bounty money. Liked him enough to wonder about what he had done with his borrowed time.

“You still killed him.”

“It had to be done.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes and laughs. “It had to be done,” he says, repeating Mingyu. “Well, will you kill me next? Although I’m not worth any bounty money.” He takes another drag of his cigarette. “All this for a real animal? And you call androids heartless.”

Mingyu shrugs on his jacket. He doesn’t respond.

“Come on,” Wonwoo says. “You can’t even kill me. You know you’re going to die if you try killing the other three androids.”

“Well then, that’s the difference between you and me, isn’t it,” Mingyu says, stepping into his shoes. “Goodbye, Wonwoo.”

He leaves the hotel room.

a24 horror vibes

[surjamukhi]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: violence, psychological horror, body horror? etc, up to you
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: go feral and be spooky. i'm talking anything like the witch "Wouldst thou like to live deliciously," that scene at the end of hereditary when peter is crowned one of the 8 kings of hell, the concept of The Lighthouse in general (2 men stuck in a confined space for weeks driving each other crazy), up to you where you want to take this....

bill and ted and seokgyu!!

[surjamukhi]

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

Prompt: I would love to see seokmin and mingyu as 2 himbos in a wannabe rock band traveling through time and getting into shenanigans. For those of you unfamiliar with bill + ted: enjoy

Zombies!

[klav]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: potential graphic depictions of violence
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt:

Zombie apocalypse AU, any members, do what you will!

The Raven Cycle / Call Down the Hawk AU

[klav]

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

Prompt:

Person A can pull things out of their dreams. Person B is a dream thing they pulled out.

// take this wherever you'd like honestly I will eat it all up

[FILL] yours is a negative kingdom

[hwarium]

Ship/Member: Mingyu/Jeonghan
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: dream violence, bbb square [Hero Worship] + [everyone saying ‘I love you’ but not quite in the way you like], ambiguous relationships
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Yah klav this prompt wrangled 6k out of me so it's now on ao3. (thank you for making the trc au accessible to write but also filtering the parts that are most devastating to me u__u please know that even while writing this even more brainworms sprouted and I had to delete the horror murder plot. ONE DAY.)

nocturnality

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: OT3
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: nocturnality au where person a is a tired salaryman who finds person b, a collapsed vampire, on the streets and takes him in. they start to drift together, without the persona a knowing the truth, but person c, the salaryman's concerned neighbor who's secretly a vampire hunter, discovers the presence of a vampire and starts to interfere. vampire/civilian/vampire hunter, basically!

Jeonghan!HQ

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Any, Jeonghan-centric
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: just a haikyuu jeonghan-centric jeonghan!oikawa or jeonghan as any hq member YOU think is plausible please, romance can be bang out/implied, sexual content is okay, just SVT!HQ tbh... Seungkwan loves playing volleyball so that's a possibility (to include him) but honestly as long as there's Jeonghan and HQ go crazy.

[FILL] fishing the sun out of the sky

[bluerthanbluets]

Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Seungkwan
Major Tags: Oikawa!Jeonghan, Hinata!Seungkwan, Post-timeskip arc
Additional Tags: N/A
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Part One is about Time.

Part Two is about Space.

The Last Part is about the Sun.


i.

Jeonghan chuckles. “Goddamn. That kid really did it, huh.”

He sits on the hot sand, a fair distance away from the makeshift court and watches Seungkwan play beach volleyball for the first time.

How long has it been? Years. It has been years since he’s seen him. And yet a part of Jeonghan still stings when he remembers their loss, when he remembers not having been to the Nationals when Seungkwan, that little shrimp, had gone and had lost. It should’ve been Jeonghan who had defeated the crows, he thinks bitterly, he should’ve been there instead of watching their match play through his stupid phon-- damn, and then he whoops, cannot help but whistle in awe, when he sees how Seungkwan flies, the sand spilling from the balls of his feet as he soars and the ball flies in a beautiful arc.

“God...” Jeonghan laughs louder, feels his eyes grow wider. Watches intently how Seungkwan moves his body, so differently now, a far cry from when he had been opposite him at an indoor court. Jeonghan watches, watches and observes Seungkwan’s limbs, no more of the boyish callousness that thrilled Jeonghan so much that it irked him, but now with the simple assuredness that, this is where my feet will land and this is how it will make me fly.

Jeonghan lifts a hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun but really, something in his chest pinwheels forward like a topspin serve when Seungkwan smiles like an idiot after he hits a good spike that leaves his opponents’ mouths open.

He had forgotten how endlessly alluring it is watching Seungkwan play.

The day after, Jeonghan comes to the beach again.

This time, he makes himself seen. Halfway through the game, Seungkwan catches sight of him and lets the ball hit him square in the chest in favor of turning his whole body towards where Jeonghan had been standing and practically yelling, THE GRAND KING?!

His hands fly to his mouth, as if he wasn’t intending to scream that out loud.

“The grand king,” Jeonghan repeats, lifts his shoulders better, and grins back at Seungkwan who is still looking incredulously at him. Time passes and Jeonghan had forgotten just how ridiculous his orange hair is. Forgotten how small. How alluring it is to watch him play and also just how Seungkwan can make him feel -- him, the grand king -- feel so fucking big simply with the way he regards him.

“Play with me,” Seungkwan says, still small and already nineteen, sweaty and shining like the sun, and suddenly Jeonghan feels himself pivot back to Miyagi, that first game, hundreds of eyes on him, but it’s only Seungkwan’s hunger on the other side of the net and the ball on his hand that grounds him to place.

ii.

Volleyball is a sport where you are always looking up. This, of course, Jeonghan knows. He’s the grand king for god’s fucking sake. But it’s a whole matter entirely when you look up and you don’t see the roof of the gymnasium but the brutal sun high up in the sky at noon.

Jeonghan makes the same mistake again and feels his field of vision flood with the hot white of the sun and then with black as a sharp pain shoots deep in his forehead. He cannot get used to this. How does Seungkwan do it?

He faintly hears the ball thud behind him and then feels Seungkwan rush to his side.

“Hyung, are you okay? Told you to wear a visor or some sunglasses. There is no roof here, it’s just the sky!” He nags, then fiddles around with the hat in his head and velcros it into Jeonghan’s.

“This looks stupid on me, Seungkwannie. Look, the girls are already laughing,” Jeonghan whines, still with his ass on the sand.

“Who cares about the girls, hyung,” he says, and he’s suddenly so closely standing over him that he’s momentarily blocking the sun. “I think it looks cute on you.”

Time passes and Jeonghan had forgotten if Seungkwan had ever been this close to him. There had always been a court and a net and several bodies between them. Right now, his face is only a few inches away from Jeonghan’s nose that he can feel Seungkwan’s excited breathing ruffle tufts of his hair poking out of the visor, tickle his nearly sunburnt skin on his forehead.

Time passes and Jeonghan says, “You have freckles now.”

Seungkwan pauses. Then he smiles a bit, only a little bit like a secret but brilliant all the same, only for Jeonghan to see, his own private sun, before he lets himself get pulled up by the arm and they lose to another set against the locals.

iii.

“Seungkwan, what would you be doing if you weren’t playing volleyball?”

“Hmmm. Maybe coaching?”

“That’s still like playing volleyball, stupid. What if there isn’t volleyball at all?” Jeonghan insists, the visor still sitting funnily on top of his head.

Seungkwan laughs, loud and ugly and absolutely irreverent. His skin rendered gold by the sun setting. “What do you mean there isn’t volleyball? What kind of world would that be?”

This one, this part of Seungkwan, Jeonghan had also forgotten, and he's grateful to bask in it right now and to remember.

[banging pots and pans] PACRIM

[latespring]

Ship/Member: Any, but if Vernon made his way in, I would love you
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: Anything to do with a pacrim universe, some particularly tasty dynamic options being:
- old copilots reunited to drift once again
- steady copilots who suddenly find themselves losing drift compatibility
- mechanic/jeager pilot
- getting the shovel talk from your bf/gf's copilot
- fresh faced newbie who's drift compatible with someone who's resigned themselves to never drifting
- that magical moment when two people discover they can drift together
- that horrified moment when two people discover they can drift together
- moving on after the loss of a copilot/ finding a new copilot

but feel free to go anywhere in this universe!

Here is some information on the film, if you've never seen it! I love this movie, it's tropey and looks cool and doesn't take itself too seriously for a monsters vs. robots movie.

[FILL] home is an extension of the body

[luvisms]

Ship/Member: Soonyoung/Vernon, implied past Soonyoung/Wonwoo and Seungkwan/Vernon
Major Tags: past character death
Additional Tags: grief/mourning, injury recovery
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Even after four months, standing up for five minutes is almost too much to bear. Hansol’s fingers wrap around the walker so tightly they turn pale, whiter than seafoam and trembling just as hard. He’s never been so frustrated in his life.

The doctor says it’s a miracle he’ll be able to walk normally again someday. The doctor says it’s a miracle he’s alive at all. He should’ve died out at sea, body lifeless and swollen and sunk to the ocean floor, to decay where the light can never reach. Tidal Reaper an impressive name for a jaeger and an even more fitting one for a coffin.

Three months ago they told him they were never able to recover Seungkwan’s body.

Hansol grits his teeth, struggling to plaster on the brightest smile he can manage when he makes eye contact with the doctor. From her expression, he’s not fooling anyone. “Hansol-ssi, are you sure you’re feeling up to this?” she asks him gently, hands hovering around him like she’s afraid he’ll fall. “There’s no shame in trying again tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, irrationally upset at the way his voice quivers. His body never does what he wants it to, anymore. An ever-present reminder of the weakness that has become a fact of life, ever since that day when he’d seen the kaiju coming too late and he’d felt real, bone-chilling fear for the first time, paralyzed by the knowledge that there was nothing he could do—only watch.

“What do they have in the cafeteria today?” he asks, inching the walker forward, little by little. “Anything special?”

“Baek-jjamppong,” the doctor answers. She steps back to give him some breathing room. “It’ll be good on a cold day like this.”

Hansol nods, exhaling harshly through his nose, lips curling back in a grin that looks too wild in the mirror. “Anything else? Fresh fruit?”

The doctor hesitates, long enough for him to drag himself halfway across the room. “A shipment of oranges came in from Jeju today,” she finally tells him.

She darts forward to catch him when he stumbles on an invisible crack in the linoleum, but Hansol clings stubbornly to the walker, pulling himself upright with all the tremulous strength remaining in his hands. Suddenly the smile comes easily for once. “Then I definitely have to go get one,” he says, pushing the walker over the bump in the open doorway.

--

To catch a glimpse of Soonyoung before was rare. They were just so busy, the both of them, Soonyoung always on his feet running around fixing everyone else’s problems and Hansol preoccupied with dealing with his own. Now he sees Soonyoung almost every day.

“I can’t believe it took me nearly dying for you to finally visit me,” he’d joked once, in the beginning, but the look on Soonyoung’s face made him regret it immediately.

“Don’t joke about things like that,” said Soonyoung, serious in a way he rarely ever was. Sober, and so, so sad. The depths of his mourning Hansol finally understood.

Now, there’s nothing but open delight on his face when Hansol shuffles into the cafeteria. That, and a tint of surprise at the edges. For a moment, Hansol’s overwhelmed by immense pride. Soonyoung’s praise is not cheaply given, and the part of Hansol that once desperately sought his approval in everything has apparently lived on from his teenage years.

“You should’ve told me you were walking,” he chides Hansol lightly, guiding him to the table he’d been sitting at with Seokmin. He helps Hansol lower himself onto the bench carefully. Hansol lets out a sigh of relief. “I would’ve come to get you.”

“It wasn’t planned,” says Hansol, “but I heard there were Jeju oranges today. Did you save me one?”

“Did he,” says Seokmin, teasing. “He guarded the oranges like a watchdog. Snapped at anyone who tried to take more than one.”

Soonyoung splutters. “Did not! I just wanted to make sure there were some left for Hansol. No one needs to take that many oranges at once, especially not Kim Mingyu.”

Hansol laughs. “Are they good?”

“Super sweet,” Seokmin declares, fingers already quickly stripping one of its skin. He breaks it into sections and passes one to Hansol with a, “Looking fresh, Hansollie.”

Because it’s Seokmin, Hansol knows he means it. The orange, when he bites into it, is just as sweet as promised. “Thanks, hyung.”

Soonyoung continues the conversation from earlier, bringing Hansol in like he’d been there from the start. But he keeps a firm grip on Hansol’s hand, as if to hold him down from floating away. Hansol doesn’t mind, even if it makes it harder to eat the oranges. It’s grounding, in a way, to be held so tightly and so quietly. Soonyoung never treats him like he’s fragile but he always reminds Hansol that he’s there.

--

They’d tried drifting together once, actually. Back when Hansol was a new recruit as green as grass and Soonyoung was much closer to becoming a full-fledged Ranger. It went well. More than well, in fact. They were compatible to a level that some people would never reach with anyone in their lifetimes, no matter how hard they tried. Good enough to be partners, for real.

But it paled in comparison to Soonyoung’s drift scores with Wonwoo. The innate understanding they seemed to share, naturally attuned to each other beyond comprehension. Hansol remembers watching them spar, someone who he’s long since forgotten standing next to him and whistling. Nothing quite like best friends since childhood, they’d said, and Hansol had thought, well, duh.

“I was actually so mad at him, at first,” Soonyoung tells him one day. The sun has long since set, unwilling to wait for the end of Soonyoung’s workday. Hansol isn’t nearly as impatient. Having Soonyoung visit late at night is better than not having him visit at all. “He didn’t even want to be a pilot, he just came chasing after me.”

Please don’t tell me you’re sorry, Hansol had said, the first time Soonyoung had come to see him after they’d told him Seungkwan was dead.

I wasn’t going to, Soonyoung had replied, quietly, but he’d sat next to Hansol and held his hand the whole day. He didn’t say it, but Soonyoung was probably the only person who could’ve told Hansol I know how you feel without it being a lie.

Today, Hansol dares to say, “He loved you a lot.”

“He did,” Soonyoung agrees, his smile small, dreamy, tinged with nostalgia. Like only half of him is present right now, the other half floating on the edge of a memory. “So stupid. I loved everything about being a pilot, but he only did it for me. Said I’d get myself killed if he wasn’t there to watch out for me.”

Hansol nods, knowing. It wasn’t like that for him and Seungkwan. They both loved it the same—one of the many reasons why they matched so well. He gets it, though. You don’t have to love the vessel you’re in, only the person in it with you.

“Did you ever think of going back, after?”

“A few times,” Soonyoung admits. “But I don’t think I could handle having another crazy person in my head if it’s not him.”

Outside, the moon’s reflection is rendered into squiggles by the gentle push and pull of the waves. Soonyoung asks him, occasionally, if he’d like to open the window for some fresh air, but Hansol always refuses. The smell of the sea makes him sick these days.

“Why’d you join J-Tech?” he asks.

Soonyoung laughs. “Crazy, isn’t it? The jaegers took everything from me and I still can’t get enough of them. Love ‘em so much I could hate myself for it.”

Crazy, but oh, how Hansol understands. “Wonwoo-hyung wouldn’t want that,” he says quietly. “He’d want you to love what you love.”

“I know, Hansollie,” says Soonyoung, rubbing a thumb over the back of Hansol’s hand. Somehow Hansol the one that’s being comforted. “I know.”

Something in his chest loosens at that. The same old sorrow still has its ugly claws wrapped tight around his neck, throat closing up whenever he thinks about Seungkwan. Because Hansol only wants to remember him as he was, happy or sad or angry but always looking forward with the knowledge that they would carry on together, but all he can see at night is Seungkwan in the worst moment, in pain, right before the end. It feels like the worst disservice to him. Hansol could hate himself for it.

But maybe today he can talk about it.

“He saw it before I did,” Hansol says, for the first time. “Twisted around right in time to take the hit for me. Just as stupid, isn’t he, hyung? So selfless.”

Soonyoung moves to hug him then, as best as he can with the hospital bed in the way. His arms rest heavy around Hansol’s shoulders. Hansol thinks he should be crying, but instead he just feels empty. What they don’t tell you about letting another crazy person into your head is that it feels like half of you’s been stripped away once they’ve left it.

“I want to go home,” he says, barely aware that he’s saying it, focused as he is on the feeling of Soonyoung’s arms holding him down. When he says home, though, it’s not Seoul or New York he thinks of first, but Jeju. An old house, baby pictures along the wall, cliffs hanging over the sea. A home he’s never seen before, a home he only knows through Seungkwan. A home nonetheless.

“I’ll take you home,” Soonyoung says softly, “I promise.”

You don’t even know which one I’m talking about, Hansol wants to tell him, but suddenly his vision is swimming with fatigue and all he can see is Soonyoung’s face, looking so sad. Funny, Hansol thinks, I’ve only seen him that sad once before. Then his eyes are slipping shut and he can no longer fight the pull of sleep, unable to think about anything at all.

Vaguely he registers the press of Soonyoung’s lips against his forehead.

--

When he wakes from the deepest, most restful sleep he’s had in months, the sunlight glints off of Soonyoung’s ring where his hand is still curled around Hansol’s. Hansol watches him sleep with his cheek pillowed against the edge of the bed, drool leaking out of the corner of his lips. Shoulders rising and falling in a steady motion, even and cyclical. As familiar as the way his hand fits in Hansol’s.

The air smells faintly of oranges. Slowly, Hansol gets up and opens the window.

black swan au!!!!

[(Anonymous)]

Ship/Member: Any, but minghao, dino or hoshi centric preferred
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Angst, dark themes
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: anything remotely related to the film (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Swan_(film)); the members entirely recast as ballet dancers, or maaaybe idolverse with the competition and hunt for idealistic perfection from the film, feel free to take this in any direction you please!

[FILL] the only person standing in your way is

[surjamukhi]

Ship/Member: Minghao/Junhui
Major Tags: Major character death (ambiguous though)
Additional Tags: Angst, jealousy, injury+blood
Permission to remix: Yes

disclaimer i don't know much about ballet + terminology except for what i learned from watching black swan and some googling so. sorry in advance for whatever this is!!



***


Have you heard the one about the two swans? They’re humans, actually, but they have the hearts of birds. In the daylight they’re cursed to grow feathers. One of them is good and one of them is bad. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Both of them are beautiful, and, by the end of this story, dead. One drowns in the lake and the other one, the one with the spotless white feathers, white as enamel, white as bone, ascends to the heavens, consigned to eternal and shimmering perfection.

“Now show me the black swan,” says Soonyoung.

Minghao stares at his own reflection. Inescapable, because they are walled in by mirrors. The sheen of his face. Pale under the dark slick of his too-long hair, pale under the studio fluorescence. He tries to school his expression. Attack. Become a black widow.

“Remember,” Soonyoung says, “you’re a spider spinning a web.”

Minghao knows how to be the white swan Odette like he was born into it. Odile’s fouettes don’t come quite as natural to him. But he’s been studying Junhui in rehearsal, studying so closely that he figures he knows, by now, how it might feel to be Junhui.

How it works is: You raise your leg. You whip it around, transform into a perfect vessel for the spinning. With each rotation Soonyoung says loudly, “Attack it! Attack it—” The room revolves like you have become the lens of a kaleidoscope, a rotoscoping animation, scenes blurring together: Soonyoung, Attack it, the mirror and your own face, which is actually not Junhui’s face but your own and therefore imperfect, which you are realizing now too late in the middle of your idiotic spinning, Soonyoung, Attack it, the mirror and your own stupid face, Soonyoung Attack it the mirror your own wrong face—

Junhui spills into the practice room late and beaming. Minghao is still spinning and Soonyoung is still saying Attack, and Minghao’s foot lands wrong and he stumbles and Soonyoung cuts out in the middle of the word and it sounds like the gasp of someone being stabbed.

Ah—!

The world flattens. Junhui at the center of it now. He has such guileless eyes. He seems, at every moment, to be hiding nothing at all.

“Soonyoung? Should I try it again?”

Minghao can hear his own voice retreating into soft uncertainty. He would call it uncharacteristic, but it seems more and more lately that he is slipping into whatever this is. Only the white swan, when he should be both.

“That’s okay,” Soonyoung says, eyes fixed on Junhui. “You’re late, Junhui. Go warm up.”

“Already warmed up,” Junhui says, lilting. Grins a little.

Even when he stands at rest he’s perfect. A sunny storybook face. Soonyoung says that when Junhui dances he is sometimes imprecise, but he is always effortless. Minghao could look at Junhui forever. Instead he looks into the mirror again, at his own wrong wrong face, and he wants to scream, or lunge towards Junhui and— and do what?


***


You and I don’t have the hearts of humans, Junhui tells Minghao in his dream, one hand warm against Minghao’s bare chest. Are they dancing? They’re onstage, trapped in gauze made of white stage lights. Minghao looks down and sees a trail of black and white feathers behind them. Yours is beating so fast, little bird, says Junhui, his eyes lined in inky black, his hair pure white, his palm burning into Minghao’s skin like a knife wound. You’re terrified. How can you hide something like that?


***


He fucks up. He can’t hide it. He is trying not to shatter into pieces when he flees into his dressing room after Act 1 and he thinks he’s alone, beginning his crumble, when,

“Rough start, huh?”

Junhui is sitting in front of the mirror. Watching him. They’re almost reflections, but it’s off. Junhui is in his Odile costume with twin sheafs of satin black half-covering his eyelids.

“Get the fuck out,” Minghao says.

No bite to it. Junhui seems to absorb his fury unscathed. Swallows it whole.

All of this should be mine, Minghao wants to say. That’s what he told Soonyoung two hours ago when he, with the force of his own conviction, relegated Junhui back to understudy. Every feather is mine, every feather, he had ground out, feeling like a spider, grasping at invisible threads. Even if— even if he wears it effortlessly, I had to work for it, I had to work myself to the bone and fucking tendons to become someone else. Doesn’t that mean I earned it more? Me? Me me me me me?

“You don’t actually have to become the black swan, you know,” Junhui tells Minghao’s reflection, almost dreamy. “You just have to wear it. Like a costume. Like a masquerade mask.”

“Is that what you do? It’s so easy for you to just say shit like that.”

“If you can’t do it, I can,” Junhui says. Like he’s offering some generous lifeline. Despite himself Minghao steps closer. Their reflections are almost superimposed, so familiar, so alien to each other. What does it feel like to be Junhui?

“I’m only trying to help, Minghao. I can see what it does to you, trying to be Odile. Trying to be something you’re not.”

Minghao looks up from Junhui’s reflection and at his own and is startled by the true malice in his face.

He wonders if Junhui has the same dreams as him. The ones where they have the same mouth, where they are the same creature. Or at least it feels that way. Feels, when Minghao wakes up, like he has two heartbeats.

But he only has one heart, and it’s his own.

“You don’t know anything,” Minghao whispers into Junhui’s ears, sounding like Soonyoung when he says Attack it, and he rears his fist back from the mirror glass.



***


Anyways what is dancing but the soul trying to flee? Take wing from the flawed and imperfect human body? Dancing is not make believe. Dancing is the only true reality. It’s a person saying: Am I not worthy of your love? Can’t you see me now? Wasn’t I perfect?

Minghao has known Junhui for only four months, but he feels so familiar in motion. Junhui came running into the dressing room that first morning, breathless. “I missed my bus! Oh, aren't you Xu Minghao? You're the swan!” And Minghao was too startled to say, Yes, that's me, because Junhui was shy but he wasn't truly hidden. It was strange. When Junhui started stretching at the barre it grew stranger. And when he finally began spinning into his fouettes, Minghao knew with certainty that he had known Junhui forever, knew him as well as he knew himself. From a past life. Maybe they really were birds once. Or extensions of the same soul. A future, or a yesterday, or both.

But it’s negligible now, isn’t it. Now there is only Minghao. Minghao looks down and there’s a floret of almost black spreading across his white feathers like tar, starting from his heart. He doesn’t know what it is exactly but he knows that he’s flying, that he can hear the beating of his wings his ears, that he’s become a swan. The white swan and the other one, too. He is himself and Junhui now. He is both of them at once. He is at the very top of the stairs at the center of the stage.

He pitches backward into the lake, but the lake is only a spotlight and he lands in the middle with his wings spread like an angel, and everyone is cheering. Cheering for him, for only him. He closes his eyes and when he opens them again what feels like one eternity later, Soonyoung is standing over him, dazed with ecstasy. They love you, they love you, they love you, he says. Behind him is Junhui, Junhui— oh, who did Minghao stab, then, in the dressing room?— Junhui, whose guileless eyes see Minghao, really see him, the red-black spreading into his feathers, and Junhui goes stricken suddenly, terrified like a little bird, drops to his knees and with his newly horrified face asks, What’s that on your costume? What did you do, what did you do oh god what did you do, Minghao? And he tries to tell Junhui I was perfect, but before he can the stage lights grow white and fill his vision and it’s like heaven.


***

this awful energy

[infrequencies]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe -- Superheroes/Superpowers, Enemies to ?, Trapped Together
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: The enemy of my enemy is my enemy, until you have to rely on them to get you out of a sticky situation. Can be OT3, but would love the focus to be on a villain/villain begrudging partnership/relationship. Open to ambiguous endings.

the modern documentary

[hyojungss]

Ship/Member: Any (note that mingyu and wonwoo are svt's resident video hobbyists)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: filmmaking
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: A crashes into B's life for a few months to film a documentary. A could be a student or an established director... B can lead an organization or be a small town business owner... A and B could meet for the first time, or be childhood friends to rivals that everyone else has to deal with... the fic can be written in script form or not! many choices!

bend over the puck

[leeseokmin]

Ship/Member: DK/Any, Mingyu/Any, Seungcheol/Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: hockey, wound care, the intricate relationship dynamics between people playing a sports
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: i think a lot about how robby fabbri and tyler bertuzzi of the detroit red wings grew up playing hockey with each other, got drafted onto different nhl teams and finally ended up on the same team again. you could go down the same route but i'd love an exploration on how history tints a forced rivalry and also the repercussions of said rivalry on the friendship/relationship once they've reunited in the same team n_n

[FILL] if you’re open, take the shot

[sunwalkr]

ship/member: seungcheol/joshua
major tags: N/A
additional tags: hockey, friends to enemies to teammates/friends again, sports as an excuse to further examine relationships n particular characters
Permission to remix: yes!

***
a/n: i actually feel so feral. the brainworms have seized me here is 1k+ of cheolshua as childhood friends turned hockey rivals turned teammates. as someone who’s played comp sport for a majority of my life and sports is something that i consider a big contributor to my development as a Person i’m surprised i haven’t written any sportsfic yet. i know only the barest of things about hockey (what i know is what ive read from fredrick backman’s beartown/us against you + also being an avid fan of the sj sharks for some reason from the 6th-8th grade) nd i wrote everything first before looking up the particular players only to find that their dynamic was eerily similar to the cheolshua i envisioned in my mind . fun fact in this universe i want to write hockey player and figure skater seokhao as well maybe one day i’ll get there.

***

Seungcheol likes to stay at the rink late at night, long after everyone else packs up for the day. His feet are screaming at him to rest, his body aches with years far beyond anything he should be feeling at the tender age of 27, and his shirt completely soaked through with sweat, but this is when he feels the most alive.

The ice is a fearsome beast. It’s also where Seungcheol chooses to make his home.

He supposes it says a lot about who he is, fundamentally, as a person — the willingness to return and tend to your craft every day, no matter how many times you get cut up by its sharp teeth.

Hockey is a hungry sport. It demands a certain kind of devotion, the kind that eats away at your youth only to spit you back out once it’s gotten sick of how you taste, looking for its next prey, the next generation of players that are always younger. Always faster. Always better.

(If you’re smart enough, you start to wonder where the time’s gone. If you’re like Seungcheol, you start to look for more of it. You try to make deals with the devil, because there are no nice gods, and when that doesn’t work, you claw your way towards the top, sweating blood along the way. Anything to extend your time on the ice and ignore the years left behind you. Anything to stretch out the ones still in front of you, as best you can.)

Seungcheol skates around idly, shifting his stick from hand to hand as he haphazardly lines the pucks up. He’s practicing his slapshot today, the sting of being unable to make the shot in scrimmage earlier during practice still fresh in his mind. The red cross of the goal winks at him from a good ten yards away, mocking him.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath. Winds up, and lets the pucks fly. It sounds like gunfire.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

He makes every single shot.

“Didn’t think I’d find anyone here,” a voice says from the stands. Seungcheol has to squint to see, and even then all he gets is a silhouette backlit by the few lit stadium lights the janitor leaves on for these solo sessions. “Forgot who I was dealing with, for a second.”

Seungcheol skates up slowly to the boards. There’s this humming in his gut. I’d know you anywhere. The whole thing unravels like a dream, one that Seungcheol is faintly aware he’s had before, only because he knows how it ends. Every single time.

Joshua Hong comes into focus, a beanie drawn low over his forehead, hands stuffed haphazardly his pockets. He’s grinning, lopsided. It does funny things to Seungcheol’s stomach.

Maybe this one is different.

“You really haven’t changed, have you?”





Seungcheol would be lying if he said he had.

Where Choi Seungcheol is painfully transparent and simple, Joshua Hong remains a fucking enigma, slippery as the ice that they play on. No matter what Seungcheol does, he just can’t get close.

It’s always been like that, ever since they were young, two bright and brilliant stars, the greatest players of their age.

What are the odds that a town gives birth to two hockey prodigies? One in a million, experts would say. Or something with even slimmer odds than that. It’s highly unlikely — and yet, it happens.

Little Choi Seungcheol, born, bred, and carved for the ice, meets Joshua Hong, a boy who knows nothing about it, who knows nothing about the sacrifice it requires to keep it.

They both grow to love it in their own ways.

Joshua takes to it like a duck takes to water, stays in it because it’s fun and he’s good at it. It starts out as a hobby for him, but as the years go on by, it starts evolving into something more: a ticket out, an escape, a better life. Joshua grabs on tight and never lets go after that.

It takes a little while for Seungcheol to get there, but when he does, it’s just like breathing, a rhythm wired into his bones, etched so deep into his muscles that he cannot forget it. Hockey is all that Seungcheol knows, all that he cares to know, all he wants to do.

Joshua’s natural talent is enviable, but it is Seungcheol’s tireless hard work that helps him keep up. The both of them only have eyes on each other, anyways. They’re leagues above all the rest.

Of course they have a history together. How could they not?






“Your new teammate, Joshua Hong.” Jihoon says gruffly, shoving forward a boy Seungcheol thought he left behind on the ice years ago. “Just picked him up from the Blues.”

Seungcheol feels slightly unhinged, eyes greedily drinking in the familiar crease in between Joshua’s brows, gentle slope of his lips, those wretched kind eyes. All these years spent looking at Joshua through a screen. It still fails to do him justice.

“Some of you should be more familiar with him than others.” Jihoon aims this barb directly at him, Seungcheol knows it. “He’s one of the best forwards the game has ever seen. We’re lucky to have him.”

Someone hoots. “Shit, Jihoon, he’s lucky to have us.” There’s a stomping of feet and a roar of approval at that one, raucous laughter in the air.

“Well,” their manager says with an awkward tilt of the lips, “don’t maim him or anything. We’ll test him out on the ice this afternoon.”

When Jihoon leaves, the locker room is dead silent, holding its breath. Everyone’s looking at them because their history has been retold and replayed a million times by every big media outlet, cruelly publicized and wrung out and strung up for everyone to see.

Once upon a time, it was just those two against the world. After an unforgivable betrayal, four world cups (two apiece), and several career-threatening injuries, they’re back to where they started, nine years later, on the same team.

Joshua stares at Seungcheol and he feels eighteen all over again, the years they’ve spent apart crumbling away instantaneously. Some things never change. He still can’t tell what Joshua’s thinking, can’t get into his head. He loathes to think what Joshua sees. Seungcheol’s always been incredibly easy to read.

He gets up, throws a towel over his shoulder. Ignores the stunned breath that Joshua takes and offers him a hand. “Welcome to the team.”





“I thought you hated me,” Joshua says honestly, breath billowing in the cold of the rink.

Seungcheol lets out a low bark of laughter. “Don’t tell me you believe everything you see on TV.”

Joshua studies Seungcheol for a little longer, lips quirked up in a smile. Seungcheol consciously straightens up, stops leaning on his stick for support.

“So, are you just gonna stand there, or are you going to show me, Mr. Greatest Power Forward of All Time?”

Seungcheol grins. He’s not exactly sure what this means for them, starting over like this again, but hockey is a language they both know like the back of their hand. This, they can do. It’s what they’ve been doing all these years, after all.

It’s just hockey.

“Thought you’d never ask.” And off he goes.

more ice sports

[leeseokmin]

Ship/Member: DK/Any, although I will love you for going DK/Minghao
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: ice hockey, figure skating, sports superstitions/rituals, established relationship
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: i will probably always be trash for the figure skater/ice hockey player relationship dynamic alongside the intricate pregame/preroutine rituals/superstitions of each other. this is more an exploration of how, in winter Olympics season, the two help each other with their rituals/the rituals are related, with some reference to hockey rituals and figure skating rituals here OR an established relationship doing a more competitive version of this Olympic sports swap since they are Married/Engaged

drift copilots but make them ice dancers

[leeseokmin]

Ship/Member: Any
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: rule 63 to make them a het pairing is okay, character/relationship study, UST
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: rivals to ice dance partners to lovers. more of an exploration of how being put in a position where you must work together for something bigger than yourselves turns into a study of the other person, understanding the rivalry is based in similarities, falling in love etc. here is one of my fave virtuemoir ice dance routines ever...

lost in translation (sofia coppola) au

[bluerthanbluets]

Ship/Member: Seungkan/Jihoon
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: meet cute? maybe the karaoke scene? ambiguous relationships? mid-life crisis?? anything abt two lost people finding comfort in each other in a foreign place etc!
Do Not Wants: cheating

Prompt: Seungkwan lands in Tokyo for an ad film and ends up meeting Jihoon, who's left behind by his partner. Gradually, the two find comfort in each other and go around the city, hang out, have fun, etc!!

formula 1 // professionalism as a form of intimacy

[hwarium]

Ship/Member: Any, cameo of minghao as the only racer who can dress themselves
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: bleak boyband bingo dynamics but make it MOTORSPORTS
Do Not Wants: None

Prompt: the ~dynamics~ when work shapes a relationship and the ~tension~ when you're not sure if the relationship can exist outside of work.

BBB-adjacent thoughts: being in this tiny group of people on the planet that understands what it's like to be on a track, in a machine that can go over 200 mph, in a race that can kill you. They can be professional rivals or lifetime enemies or even lovers, the relationship is up to you! but I would love to see the influence of work tinting every reaction.