Unfinished fic dump
Once again, it's time for an unfinished fic dump. These will most likely never be finished. All suju, except for one brief Boys Over Flowers woobin/eejung bit that should put a time frame on just how long ago these were written and forgotten. XD
If anyone's still out there in my flist world I'll be shocked. I've been away from fanfic fandom for AGES (though I've been silently reading this whole time).
Author's notes at the end.
~~~~~~~~~~~
the first time it happens, eejung doesn't wake until the mattress shifts underneath him with the weight of a second body.
his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the darkness, his mind sleep-dazed and the only thing that really registers is the smell- the easily recognizable bite of alcohol, mixed with something metallic and tangy and familiar. there's something else, too, it reminds him of matches but heavier somehow, and eejung knows it's nothing he's smelled before.
there are arms sliding around him, thin, but he can feel the tension of the power under the skin. 'eejung,' and the voice is hoarse, words murmured into his shoulder. slowly eejung realizes, eyes opening wide. 'woobin?'
his response is a laugh, stilted and sharp and drunk. 'yeah, man. woobin. it's woobin.'
eejung starts to speak, to question, then falters, attempts to sit up but woobin's practically on top of him and he can hardly move. 'what's wrong with you? what happened? why are you-'
he's brought his hands up to press against woobin's chest, trying to get some leverage so he can sit up. woobin takes those hands in his, shifting up and away til he's kneeling on the bed beside him, still clutching eejung's hands tight. eejung takes a shaky breath; in the dark, woobin's eyes are black and wild.
'these hands...' and woobin sounds fascinated, massaging his palms and stroking his wrists. 'so soft.'
'from the pottery,' eejung says cautiously, and woobin makes a sound almost like a moan.
'from the pottery,' he repeats, 'that you make. because that's what these hands do. they create.'
eejung realizes that woobin is shaking.
with another drunken laugh, woobin let's go of eejung's hands, moving instead to cup his face softly. eejung is hit again with the sharp smell of something he now recognizes as blood. instinctively he reaches up to grasp at woobin's forearms, fingers digging in tight. woobin's eyes fall shut, and when he speaks, it's a whisper.
'wanna know what my hands do, potter?'
eejung doesn't.
'they destroy.'
~~~~~~~~~~~
Just when the world is starting to turn fuzzy and quiet, Hankyung's breath catches at the feel of the mattress dipping beside him. A body- sharp and cold- is pressed to his, and one arm drops across his chest, fisting tight in his shirt. It's so, so familiar, and Hankyung doesn't even bother opening his eyes. Just tilts his head down til he meets soft hair, and kisses absentmindedly.
Heechul's knuckles turn white where his other hand grasps at Hankyung's shoulder, and he bites his lip hard enough to distract himself from the sting in his eyes. He wills his body not to shake, but he can't stop the tremulous shivers, even nestled here in the warmth of Hankyung's bed.
It isn't until the trembling stops, Heechul stiffening oddly at his side, that Hankyung blinks awake, one hand holding Heechul a few inches away so he can look at him. The angry scowl and dry cheeks say he isn't crying, but the shine in his eyes and the wet spot on Hankyung's shoulder say something different.
"What's wrong," he murmurs, doesn't ask, thumbing the rise of Heechul's cheekbone lazily. His calm, sleepy appearance hides the quickening of his heart, rising anger for whatever made his friend cry.
"Nothing," Heechul answers stubbornly, then chokes out curses as a tear falls, burying his face back in the crook of Hankyung's shoulder and sobbing as quietly as he can.
"Nothing, nothing," he repeats the words like a prayer, over and over until "nothing, nothing" becomes "siwon, siwon" and Hankyung's arms tighten around him.
"He's- my friend, Hankyung. My friend and- he said those things- that interview, and... How could he? He knows... He has to know... But still, he- And he's my friend, but how... how can I... If he won't acknowledge me, Hankyung...?" The last name is more of a plea than anything else, and again Hankyung pulls Heechul away from him, brushing carefully at his eyes.
"That's not it," he says, a little awkwardly because what else can he say? And Heechul seems to know it, body going limp with a tearful, exhausted sigh.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Afterwards, laying in the dim room, Hangeng felt almost claustrophobic wrapped in the heat of the blankets, Heechul's body pressed close against his. Smoke curled in the air, Heechul's thin fingers holding the cigarette tight. Geng's chest rose and fell as Heechul took another drag, pressing his lips to his bare shoulder, exhaling so the smoke pooled out slowly onto his skin.
The phone going off interrupted the heavy silence, Heechul's eyebrow raised as Geng reached to answer it. "Hello?"
Siwon's voice came muffled through the speaker, Geng settling into the conversation, one arm still draped around Heechul as an afterthought. He brought the cigarette to his lips again, pursing them thoughtfully as the smoke spilled out into the air.
"Yes-- Yes, I love you too, Shiyuan--"
Heechul arched and twisted, ending up splayed atop Hangeng, their naked bodies smashed awkwardly together so that Geng could feel every inch of him. He tapped out his cigarette into the ashtray, cheeks puffed with the last drag. Head bent, he mouthed lazily at Hangeng's jaw, the smoke escaping in little whisps against his face.
Hangeng fell silent, letting Siwon speak and closing his eyes in answer to Heechul's ministrations. He could fall asleep like this, so easy, Siwon's voice in his ear and Heechul's mouth on his, his hand rubbing lower--
"Ge? Ge--" Siwon's concern brought his eyes open as Heechul's hand took hold, a soft sound in his throat. "Shiyuan, baby, I'll call you later."
~~~~~~~~~~~
COMFORT
Youngwoon’s always seen himself as a poor source of comfort, more often the cause of tears and stress than the cure, but from the way Jungsu always seeks out his warmth whenever things get to be too much, he may have to reconsider his earlier opinion.
KISS
His eyes are wide when Jungsu’s mouth first moves softly, tentatively against his own, but it doesn’t take long for them to fall shut with relief that this is finally, finally happening.
SOFT
Jungsu’s body is hard, bony, sharp, thin, almost painful to hold, but his lips, eyes, voice, heart are soft, and it more than makes up the difference.
PAIN
He develops a nasty bruise on his upper arm where Jungsu’s bony shoulder presses hard against his skin when Youngwoon holds him, but he’s fairly certain the pain is worth it.
POTATOES
Sometimes the stress of keeping it secret is too much for him to bear, but when Jungsu kisses him, it suddenly doesn’t seem such a big deal-small potatoes, he thinks, and tangles his fingers in Jungsu’s hair.
~~~~~~~~~~~
1) I wrote this with the idea in my head that woobin was more of a mafia gangster than he really is. It's not so much romantic pairing as woobin kind of searching out something good in his life to balance the fact of what he does on the streets? Idk.
2) I wrote this in response to a magazine interview where Siwon says something (and I'm paraphrasing, I can't find the article now) about not necessarily hating homosexuality, just that he won't acknowledge it. And then I started thinking about how his bandmates who might be that way would react to that. I feel like sexuality is such a big part of a person's... personality, that to refuse to acknowledge that is refusing to acknowledge the person themselves in full. So this is Heechul upset because of that.
3) This was actually written with my Just One Day verse in mind, but that would require some reworking of either this scene or the established fic centered around Siwon... So basically this is Hankyung cheating on Siwon with Heechul in an indeterminate AU. I wrote this while I was supposed to be watching La Gloire de Mon Pere in French class. :(
4) These were originally written for a one sentence fic community prompt list... which I promptly NEVER FINISHED.
If anyone's still out there in my flist world I'll be shocked. I've been away from fanfic fandom for AGES (though I've been silently reading this whole time).
Author's notes at the end.
~~~~~~~~~~~
the first time it happens, eejung doesn't wake until the mattress shifts underneath him with the weight of a second body.
his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the darkness, his mind sleep-dazed and the only thing that really registers is the smell- the easily recognizable bite of alcohol, mixed with something metallic and tangy and familiar. there's something else, too, it reminds him of matches but heavier somehow, and eejung knows it's nothing he's smelled before.
there are arms sliding around him, thin, but he can feel the tension of the power under the skin. 'eejung,' and the voice is hoarse, words murmured into his shoulder. slowly eejung realizes, eyes opening wide. 'woobin?'
his response is a laugh, stilted and sharp and drunk. 'yeah, man. woobin. it's woobin.'
eejung starts to speak, to question, then falters, attempts to sit up but woobin's practically on top of him and he can hardly move. 'what's wrong with you? what happened? why are you-'
he's brought his hands up to press against woobin's chest, trying to get some leverage so he can sit up. woobin takes those hands in his, shifting up and away til he's kneeling on the bed beside him, still clutching eejung's hands tight. eejung takes a shaky breath; in the dark, woobin's eyes are black and wild.
'these hands...' and woobin sounds fascinated, massaging his palms and stroking his wrists. 'so soft.'
'from the pottery,' eejung says cautiously, and woobin makes a sound almost like a moan.
'from the pottery,' he repeats, 'that you make. because that's what these hands do. they create.'
eejung realizes that woobin is shaking.
with another drunken laugh, woobin let's go of eejung's hands, moving instead to cup his face softly. eejung is hit again with the sharp smell of something he now recognizes as blood. instinctively he reaches up to grasp at woobin's forearms, fingers digging in tight. woobin's eyes fall shut, and when he speaks, it's a whisper.
'wanna know what my hands do, potter?'
eejung doesn't.
'they destroy.'
~~~~~~~~~~~
Just when the world is starting to turn fuzzy and quiet, Hankyung's breath catches at the feel of the mattress dipping beside him. A body- sharp and cold- is pressed to his, and one arm drops across his chest, fisting tight in his shirt. It's so, so familiar, and Hankyung doesn't even bother opening his eyes. Just tilts his head down til he meets soft hair, and kisses absentmindedly.
Heechul's knuckles turn white where his other hand grasps at Hankyung's shoulder, and he bites his lip hard enough to distract himself from the sting in his eyes. He wills his body not to shake, but he can't stop the tremulous shivers, even nestled here in the warmth of Hankyung's bed.
It isn't until the trembling stops, Heechul stiffening oddly at his side, that Hankyung blinks awake, one hand holding Heechul a few inches away so he can look at him. The angry scowl and dry cheeks say he isn't crying, but the shine in his eyes and the wet spot on Hankyung's shoulder say something different.
"What's wrong," he murmurs, doesn't ask, thumbing the rise of Heechul's cheekbone lazily. His calm, sleepy appearance hides the quickening of his heart, rising anger for whatever made his friend cry.
"Nothing," Heechul answers stubbornly, then chokes out curses as a tear falls, burying his face back in the crook of Hankyung's shoulder and sobbing as quietly as he can.
"Nothing, nothing," he repeats the words like a prayer, over and over until "nothing, nothing" becomes "siwon, siwon" and Hankyung's arms tighten around him.
"He's- my friend, Hankyung. My friend and- he said those things- that interview, and... How could he? He knows... He has to know... But still, he- And he's my friend, but how... how can I... If he won't acknowledge me, Hankyung...?" The last name is more of a plea than anything else, and again Hankyung pulls Heechul away from him, brushing carefully at his eyes.
"That's not it," he says, a little awkwardly because what else can he say? And Heechul seems to know it, body going limp with a tearful, exhausted sigh.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Afterwards, laying in the dim room, Hangeng felt almost claustrophobic wrapped in the heat of the blankets, Heechul's body pressed close against his. Smoke curled in the air, Heechul's thin fingers holding the cigarette tight. Geng's chest rose and fell as Heechul took another drag, pressing his lips to his bare shoulder, exhaling so the smoke pooled out slowly onto his skin.
The phone going off interrupted the heavy silence, Heechul's eyebrow raised as Geng reached to answer it. "Hello?"
Siwon's voice came muffled through the speaker, Geng settling into the conversation, one arm still draped around Heechul as an afterthought. He brought the cigarette to his lips again, pursing them thoughtfully as the smoke spilled out into the air.
"Yes-- Yes, I love you too, Shiyuan--"
Heechul arched and twisted, ending up splayed atop Hangeng, their naked bodies smashed awkwardly together so that Geng could feel every inch of him. He tapped out his cigarette into the ashtray, cheeks puffed with the last drag. Head bent, he mouthed lazily at Hangeng's jaw, the smoke escaping in little whisps against his face.
Hangeng fell silent, letting Siwon speak and closing his eyes in answer to Heechul's ministrations. He could fall asleep like this, so easy, Siwon's voice in his ear and Heechul's mouth on his, his hand rubbing lower--
"Ge? Ge--" Siwon's concern brought his eyes open as Heechul's hand took hold, a soft sound in his throat. "Shiyuan, baby, I'll call you later."
~~~~~~~~~~~
COMFORT
Youngwoon’s always seen himself as a poor source of comfort, more often the cause of tears and stress than the cure, but from the way Jungsu always seeks out his warmth whenever things get to be too much, he may have to reconsider his earlier opinion.
KISS
His eyes are wide when Jungsu’s mouth first moves softly, tentatively against his own, but it doesn’t take long for them to fall shut with relief that this is finally, finally happening.
SOFT
Jungsu’s body is hard, bony, sharp, thin, almost painful to hold, but his lips, eyes, voice, heart are soft, and it more than makes up the difference.
PAIN
He develops a nasty bruise on his upper arm where Jungsu’s bony shoulder presses hard against his skin when Youngwoon holds him, but he’s fairly certain the pain is worth it.
POTATOES
Sometimes the stress of keeping it secret is too much for him to bear, but when Jungsu kisses him, it suddenly doesn’t seem such a big deal-small potatoes, he thinks, and tangles his fingers in Jungsu’s hair.
~~~~~~~~~~~
1) I wrote this with the idea in my head that woobin was more of a mafia gangster than he really is. It's not so much romantic pairing as woobin kind of searching out something good in his life to balance the fact of what he does on the streets? Idk.
2) I wrote this in response to a magazine interview where Siwon says something (and I'm paraphrasing, I can't find the article now) about not necessarily hating homosexuality, just that he won't acknowledge it. And then I started thinking about how his bandmates who might be that way would react to that. I feel like sexuality is such a big part of a person's... personality, that to refuse to acknowledge that is refusing to acknowledge the person themselves in full. So this is Heechul upset because of that.
3) This was actually written with my Just One Day verse in mind, but that would require some reworking of either this scene or the established fic centered around Siwon... So basically this is Hankyung cheating on Siwon with Heechul in an indeterminate AU. I wrote this while I was supposed to be watching La Gloire de Mon Pere in French class. :(
4) These were originally written for a one sentence fic community prompt list... which I promptly NEVER FINISHED.