seouldout collection pt.2
| Seouldout Collection | pg-13 | super junior, shinee | various |
Note: Submissions from round 5 and 6 of seouldout.
Submerge kyuhyun/donghae. prompt: water. 200.
Donghae has always loved the sea. It’s where he was born, it’s in his name, he feels braver in it than out - he thinks he was born to love the sea.
He feels a little stifled sometimes, landlocked in Seoul, a constant press of buildings and people and noise around him. He’s gotten used to it mostly, but there are still twinges of longing sometimes, moments where he feels like the proverbial fish out of water.
He scares Kyuhyun half to death when he lies submerged in their bathtub, eyes closed and perfectly still. Kyuhyun sounds different underwater, like he’s a world away, and sooner than Donghae expects, familiar hands close around his shoulders and he breaks the surface, laughing.
Don’t worry, I’ve got gills. Here, feel them, he would joke, shivering as he slides Kyuhyun’s hands from his shoulders to his neck. But Kyuhyun only scowls deeper, face red from exasperation, and although he’s angry, he’s still touching Donghae, which is all that really matters.
It’s in moments like these when Donghae thinks about being braver, about pulling Kyuhyun down with him, and dares to wonder how long they can last underwater with a shared breath between them.
Break jonghyun/onew. star trek au. 200. warning: character death, suicide.
Seoul is beautiful in the night time, and the view is particularly stunning here. The sea of light below him never fails to make him breathless.
Jinki presses his hands to the force field. When he was younger, he had nightmares of spontaneous EM failures and thousand feet falls. He remembers the wind rushing through his hair, the high-pitched sound that his voice abandons midway, the sheer terror of it all - before he’d land in his bed, eyes wide and panting, sweaty sheets tangled between his legs.
Warm hands close over his, and Jinki feels the cold tip of someone’s nose against his neck.
“Don’t jump,” Jonghyun murmurs into his shoulder, pressing himself close until Jinki is warm from head to toe. “You promised.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
“And the one thing I like about you, Lieutenant Lee Jinki, is your unfailing ability to keep your promises.”
“Of course, Starfleet’s Honour,” Jinki closes his eyes and marvels, for a moment, how real holograms feel these days. “But then, I also promised to go wherever you did.
“Computer, disable Holodeck safety protocols,” he swallows, “and disable the force field.”
There’s a difference between jumping and falling. Jinki never breaks his promises.
The stuff of legend heechul/hankyung. snapshots into heechul's career. 200.
When Heechul was five, he wanted to be Superman. This meant tying tablecloths around his neck, jumping from household appliances, scraping his knees, and then burying himself in blankets - his “Fortress of Solitude.”
But then he turned six. This meant realizing that Superman not only had atrocious tastes in costumes, but saving people was a hard and dangerous job. He’d be much better off being a villain with minions to do his every bidding.
Ten years later, he met Hankyung: easygoing and docile - perfect minion material. This meant incomprehensible Korean, fried rice whenever he wanted, and somehow gaining a brand new family in Beijing. What a sweet deal, he thought. He could get used to this villain business.
Hankyung was patient and generous and so alien that Heechul was tempted to promote him to superhero status. Except that meant they’d be enemies, so maybe he would settle for friends instead.
Our friendship’s gonna be the stuff of legend, Heechul almost quoted once, tipsy from soju and horror movie adrenalin. But the faraway look in Hankyung’s eyes only reminded Heechul that the other shoe dropping was a very real possibility, so he curled a little closer and tugged the blankets higher.
Krazy straw sungmin. he needs something more. 200. warning: drug use
at first it was just to take the edge off before performances, to calm nerves because although there were thirteen of you, management was no less lenient when it came to mistakes. you'd found out early on that a line beforehand helped with concentration; that a half-tablet made that sweet smile come easier for the fans screaming your name.
but it wasn’t like you made a habit of it. you knew all the consequences, reminded yourself of them every time your skin felt tight and your fingers itched for something more. you were responsible and clear headed; you knew.
henry once said something about tubes of flavored sugar and teenage stupidity and how it hurt, man, like pain you’ll never know. yet this doesn’t hurt at all. it only hurts when you’re not hunched over the bathroom counter, breath fogging up slick marble, and inhaling as hard as you can, lest your body shake itself into pieces of insecurity and inadequacy.
“i’m sorry,” you say one day, “but sungmin doesn’t live here anymore,” and then someone’s screaming and there are hands grabbing you, forcing your face towards theirs, but -
but you see nothing, hear nothing, because you’re already fading away.
Puff the magic dragon yesung/heechul. lucy in the sky with diamons. 200. warning: drug use
All Yesung knows is that it’s really expensive shit and he paid for half of it. “Give it here,” he scowls, grabbing Heechul’s wrist. His thumb overlaps his fingers, which throws him off a little. There is an epiphany to be had about frailty and illusions, but Yesung only narrows his eyes. “Don’t hog it all.”
Heechul gives him a dazed smirk. Yesung’s not particularly worried for whatever Heechul has planned, but the sudden jerk of his arm throws Yesung off-balance - and right into the territory of shared breaths.
“Patience,” Heechul sighs, bringing the joint to his mouth again. He takes a long puff, elaborate and drawn out because he knows Yesung is watching with halted breath. This is their routine, their battle, the definition of Heechul’s easy popularity against Yesung’s struggle for appreciation, and he can’t remember ever feeling so insignificant.
A snap decision and he’s suddenly there, biting Heechul’s lips until they open with a rush of moist breath and sweet smoke. Yesung lets it into his lungs and holds it there with seal of their mouths, their languid tongues mixing the air in between.
When Heechul breaks away with a shudder, it feels a little like victory.
Note: Submissions from round 5 and 6 of seouldout.
Submerge kyuhyun/donghae. prompt: water. 200.
Donghae has always loved the sea. It’s where he was born, it’s in his name, he feels braver in it than out - he thinks he was born to love the sea.
He feels a little stifled sometimes, landlocked in Seoul, a constant press of buildings and people and noise around him. He’s gotten used to it mostly, but there are still twinges of longing sometimes, moments where he feels like the proverbial fish out of water.
He scares Kyuhyun half to death when he lies submerged in their bathtub, eyes closed and perfectly still. Kyuhyun sounds different underwater, like he’s a world away, and sooner than Donghae expects, familiar hands close around his shoulders and he breaks the surface, laughing.
Don’t worry, I’ve got gills. Here, feel them, he would joke, shivering as he slides Kyuhyun’s hands from his shoulders to his neck. But Kyuhyun only scowls deeper, face red from exasperation, and although he’s angry, he’s still touching Donghae, which is all that really matters.
It’s in moments like these when Donghae thinks about being braver, about pulling Kyuhyun down with him, and dares to wonder how long they can last underwater with a shared breath between them.
Break jonghyun/onew. star trek au. 200. warning: character death, suicide.
Seoul is beautiful in the night time, and the view is particularly stunning here. The sea of light below him never fails to make him breathless.
Jinki presses his hands to the force field. When he was younger, he had nightmares of spontaneous EM failures and thousand feet falls. He remembers the wind rushing through his hair, the high-pitched sound that his voice abandons midway, the sheer terror of it all - before he’d land in his bed, eyes wide and panting, sweaty sheets tangled between his legs.
Warm hands close over his, and Jinki feels the cold tip of someone’s nose against his neck.
“Don’t jump,” Jonghyun murmurs into his shoulder, pressing himself close until Jinki is warm from head to toe. “You promised.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
“And the one thing I like about you, Lieutenant Lee Jinki, is your unfailing ability to keep your promises.”
“Of course, Starfleet’s Honour,” Jinki closes his eyes and marvels, for a moment, how real holograms feel these days. “But then, I also promised to go wherever you did.
“Computer, disable Holodeck safety protocols,” he swallows, “and disable the force field.”
There’s a difference between jumping and falling. Jinki never breaks his promises.
The stuff of legend heechul/hankyung. snapshots into heechul's career. 200.
When Heechul was five, he wanted to be Superman. This meant tying tablecloths around his neck, jumping from household appliances, scraping his knees, and then burying himself in blankets - his “Fortress of Solitude.”
But then he turned six. This meant realizing that Superman not only had atrocious tastes in costumes, but saving people was a hard and dangerous job. He’d be much better off being a villain with minions to do his every bidding.
Ten years later, he met Hankyung: easygoing and docile - perfect minion material. This meant incomprehensible Korean, fried rice whenever he wanted, and somehow gaining a brand new family in Beijing. What a sweet deal, he thought. He could get used to this villain business.
Hankyung was patient and generous and so alien that Heechul was tempted to promote him to superhero status. Except that meant they’d be enemies, so maybe he would settle for friends instead.
Our friendship’s gonna be the stuff of legend, Heechul almost quoted once, tipsy from soju and horror movie adrenalin. But the faraway look in Hankyung’s eyes only reminded Heechul that the other shoe dropping was a very real possibility, so he curled a little closer and tugged the blankets higher.
Krazy straw sungmin. he needs something more. 200. warning: drug use
at first it was just to take the edge off before performances, to calm nerves because although there were thirteen of you, management was no less lenient when it came to mistakes. you'd found out early on that a line beforehand helped with concentration; that a half-tablet made that sweet smile come easier for the fans screaming your name.
but it wasn’t like you made a habit of it. you knew all the consequences, reminded yourself of them every time your skin felt tight and your fingers itched for something more. you were responsible and clear headed; you knew.
henry once said something about tubes of flavored sugar and teenage stupidity and how it hurt, man, like pain you’ll never know. yet this doesn’t hurt at all. it only hurts when you’re not hunched over the bathroom counter, breath fogging up slick marble, and inhaling as hard as you can, lest your body shake itself into pieces of insecurity and inadequacy.
“i’m sorry,” you say one day, “but sungmin doesn’t live here anymore,” and then someone’s screaming and there are hands grabbing you, forcing your face towards theirs, but -
but you see nothing, hear nothing, because you’re already fading away.
Puff the magic dragon yesung/heechul. lucy in the sky with diamons. 200. warning: drug use
All Yesung knows is that it’s really expensive shit and he paid for half of it. “Give it here,” he scowls, grabbing Heechul’s wrist. His thumb overlaps his fingers, which throws him off a little. There is an epiphany to be had about frailty and illusions, but Yesung only narrows his eyes. “Don’t hog it all.”
Heechul gives him a dazed smirk. Yesung’s not particularly worried for whatever Heechul has planned, but the sudden jerk of his arm throws Yesung off-balance - and right into the territory of shared breaths.
“Patience,” Heechul sighs, bringing the joint to his mouth again. He takes a long puff, elaborate and drawn out because he knows Yesung is watching with halted breath. This is their routine, their battle, the definition of Heechul’s easy popularity against Yesung’s struggle for appreciation, and he can’t remember ever feeling so insignificant.
A snap decision and he’s suddenly there, biting Heechul’s lips until they open with a rush of moist breath and sweet smoke. Yesung lets it into his lungs and holds it there with seal of their mouths, their languid tongues mixing the air in between.
When Heechul breaks away with a shudder, it feels a little like victory.