two drabbley things hur
title: moderate distortions
fandom: super junior
rating: pg
pairing: donghae-centric
summary: white lies are still lies
I’m glad for you
Kibum comes to the afterparty and laughs with them and drinks with them and Hyukjae takes photo after photo, and tells Donghae it’s so he can always remember them together always, Super Junior.
Donghae gets tipsy with Heechul and plays video games with Kibum, the racing game they’ve played a million times before.
“I’m leaving Super Junior,” Kibum tells him one day. “Management greenlighted it, I’m going to be an actor.” They drink a toast to his success.
I believe you
Donghae creeps into Heechul’s room and sleeps on his floor. Heechul toes him awake while the moon is still lighting the sky.
“What are you doing here?” Heechul asks sharply, and Donghae sits up, his fringe twisting in a cowlick across one eye.
“Hyung,” he mumbles, mouth thick with sleep. Heechul sighs.
“Come on, Dorobbong,” Heechul says, and Donghae slips under his comforter and rubs his nose on Heechul’s shoulderblade.
“I’m okay, Donghae. Don’t worry about hyung,” Heechul whispers, right before he falls asleep.
“Siwonnie,” he calls, laughing, and Siwon jumps as he tries to trap the ball. It bounces off his thigh and away, and he jogs after it. Donghae runs quietly behind him, overtaking him in a burst of speed, sprinting with his head tilted back and his legs flying, until the world is blurred and all he can hear is the wind in his ears.
He leans over, trying not to slow, but stumbles and falls near a tree. There’s a quick pounding of feet behind him.
“Donghae,” Siwon says, and crouches near him. Donghae can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he can hear himself making little rasping hitches as he struggles to find his breath again. “Donghae,” Siwon says again, and his voice is very soft. His fingers are gentle on Donghae’s cheeks. Donghae takes a big shuddering breath.
“I’m okay,” he says.
Sometimes Donghae says things that aren’t true.
title: steal some covers share some skin
fandom: super junior
rating: hard r
pairing: yesung/ryeowook
summary: lazy mornings in bed
a/n: for my mrwargan moeruze_burning
Ryeowook bounces a little in the van ride back, distant from the adrenaline-fueled chatter that fills the car on the post concert ride back to their hotel rooms, thinking of the almost. By the time they shuffle into the lobby and fill elevators they’ve quieted, and by the time they slip into their rooms and leave trails of clothes to the shower they’re staggering, exhausted.
Ryeowook pulls pajama pants on and slips a thin cotton tank over his head, collapsing face first onto his mattress without drying his hair or pulling down the sheets. He wakes briefly when Kangin bangs the bathroom door on the way out from his own shower and again when Kangin thumps his head against the wall, snoring.
When he finally becomes aware, he’s still sprawled face first into the cheap polyester duvet, in a tiny puddle of his own drool, with a weight on his lower back. Someone is drawing concentric circles to connect his shoulderblades. He stretches his spine out like a cat, rolling his body in a long slow wave, and hears Yesung laugh.
“Hyung,” he says, wiggling until Yesung sits up and he can roll over onto his back, “where’s Kangin-hyung?”
“Out,” Yesung says, and dips his head to kiss Ryeowook, soft and easy, and Ryeowook tugs him onto the bed, onto him. Yesung is backlit by the sun coming through the windows, the first purest light of the day, and it makes his skin glow pale shimmery yellow.
“You’re golden, Jongwoon,” he says lazily, and Yesung grins before rolling him back onto his stomach and pushing his shirt up. There’s a snap of a bottle and something warm spills over Ryeowook’s back, smelling of lavender and freshness, like the laundry room when the dryer hums and rumbles and it’s warm and clean and soothing. Yesung knows how he likes it, and he knows where Ryeowook stores his tension and his worries and his fingers smooth them out until Ryeowook has melted into his hands and the bed.
“Mmhmm,” Ryeowook hums, and when Yesung tugs his pants off he just arches and stretches again. It’s quiet in the room and the windows muffle the sounds of cars and trucks and people, and Ryeowook can sigh as Yesung slips a finger into him just the way he likes it and pretend the world is made of them and for them alone.
fandom: super junior
rating: pg
pairing: donghae-centric
summary: white lies are still lies
I’m glad for you
Kibum comes to the afterparty and laughs with them and drinks with them and Hyukjae takes photo after photo, and tells Donghae it’s so he can always remember them together always, Super Junior.
Donghae gets tipsy with Heechul and plays video games with Kibum, the racing game they’ve played a million times before.
“I’m leaving Super Junior,” Kibum tells him one day. “Management greenlighted it, I’m going to be an actor.” They drink a toast to his success.
I believe you
Donghae creeps into Heechul’s room and sleeps on his floor. Heechul toes him awake while the moon is still lighting the sky.
“What are you doing here?” Heechul asks sharply, and Donghae sits up, his fringe twisting in a cowlick across one eye.
“Hyung,” he mumbles, mouth thick with sleep. Heechul sighs.
“Come on, Dorobbong,” Heechul says, and Donghae slips under his comforter and rubs his nose on Heechul’s shoulderblade.
“I’m okay, Donghae. Don’t worry about hyung,” Heechul whispers, right before he falls asleep.
“Siwonnie,” he calls, laughing, and Siwon jumps as he tries to trap the ball. It bounces off his thigh and away, and he jogs after it. Donghae runs quietly behind him, overtaking him in a burst of speed, sprinting with his head tilted back and his legs flying, until the world is blurred and all he can hear is the wind in his ears.
He leans over, trying not to slow, but stumbles and falls near a tree. There’s a quick pounding of feet behind him.
“Donghae,” Siwon says, and crouches near him. Donghae can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he can hear himself making little rasping hitches as he struggles to find his breath again. “Donghae,” Siwon says again, and his voice is very soft. His fingers are gentle on Donghae’s cheeks. Donghae takes a big shuddering breath.
“I’m okay,” he says.
Sometimes Donghae says things that aren’t true.
title: steal some covers share some skin
fandom: super junior
rating: hard r
pairing: yesung/ryeowook
summary: lazy mornings in bed
a/n: for my mrwargan moeruze_burning
Ryeowook bounces a little in the van ride back, distant from the adrenaline-fueled chatter that fills the car on the post concert ride back to their hotel rooms, thinking of the almost. By the time they shuffle into the lobby and fill elevators they’ve quieted, and by the time they slip into their rooms and leave trails of clothes to the shower they’re staggering, exhausted.
Ryeowook pulls pajama pants on and slips a thin cotton tank over his head, collapsing face first onto his mattress without drying his hair or pulling down the sheets. He wakes briefly when Kangin bangs the bathroom door on the way out from his own shower and again when Kangin thumps his head against the wall, snoring.
When he finally becomes aware, he’s still sprawled face first into the cheap polyester duvet, in a tiny puddle of his own drool, with a weight on his lower back. Someone is drawing concentric circles to connect his shoulderblades. He stretches his spine out like a cat, rolling his body in a long slow wave, and hears Yesung laugh.
“Hyung,” he says, wiggling until Yesung sits up and he can roll over onto his back, “where’s Kangin-hyung?”
“Out,” Yesung says, and dips his head to kiss Ryeowook, soft and easy, and Ryeowook tugs him onto the bed, onto him. Yesung is backlit by the sun coming through the windows, the first purest light of the day, and it makes his skin glow pale shimmery yellow.
“You’re golden, Jongwoon,” he says lazily, and Yesung grins before rolling him back onto his stomach and pushing his shirt up. There’s a snap of a bottle and something warm spills over Ryeowook’s back, smelling of lavender and freshness, like the laundry room when the dryer hums and rumbles and it’s warm and clean and soothing. Yesung knows how he likes it, and he knows where Ryeowook stores his tension and his worries and his fingers smooth them out until Ryeowook has melted into his hands and the bed.
“Mmhmm,” Ryeowook hums, and when Yesung tugs his pants off he just arches and stretches again. It’s quiet in the room and the windows muffle the sounds of cars and trucks and people, and Ryeowook can sigh as Yesung slips a finger into him just the way he likes it and pretend the world is made of them and for them alone.