A sleepy place, a light blue sheet

Test

minsgunshot — Sat, 27 Sep 2025 03:26:01 GMT

Cut Off

minsgunshot — Tue, 13 Nov 2012 00:06:26 GMT

Title: Cut Off
Fandom: B1A4
Pairing: Baro/Gongchan
Rating: G
Word Count: 863
Summary: He supposes he deserves this.

For this prompt at seoulfulness.
Also for this drabble challenge.

::Snowflake, 863 words::

I’m not really sure what time I showed up.

  It was dark, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. It could’ve been midnight, it could’ve been right before dawn. It could’ve been the middle of the day, with the clouds so thick I couldn’t have seen the sun.

  I’m not even sure how long I stayed.

  I just sat down, in front of your door, and I waited. It didn’t feel like minutes or hours or even days, it felt like weeks, like months and years, and the only way I knew it wasn’t like that was because every time I looked up, the piles of snow on the streets would only be slightly bigger.

  I fell asleep a lot, every time I got too tired of shivering. I kept having the same dream, over and over.
It always began with me waking up. It would still be snowing, my fingers would still be numb, I would still be sitting like a beggar on your front porch. The most terrifying thing about it was that the dream was exactly like reality, except for one thing.

  “Sunwoo?”

  Then you’d drop your keys or your groceries or maybe you wouldn’t even be holding anything, you’d just have your arms open, and I would just want so badly to jump up into them and bury my face in your hair. But instead I’d still be frozen.

  Then you’d crouch down and say my name again.

  “Sunwoo, what are you doing here?”

  And then I would mutter those words that I knew wouldn’t mean anything to you.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  But the way you would react would always be the same.

  You would wrap your hands around my neck, you’d let me rob you of all of your heat and let me cry into your shoulder.

  Then I would hug you back and tell you everything that I’ve been meaning to say for so long.

  “I’m an idiot. I screwed up and I miss you so much I could die. I need you to take me back, and I know that I’m not worth it but I’m begging you to please just let me come back. Let me come back and I swear on my life I will never, ever leave. I will love you like you deserve to be loved.”

  Please, please, please. I would repeat the word with the same beat as my chattering teeth.

  And then you would forgive me. That’s how I would figure out it was just a dream. You’d forgive me, every time.

  Then I would wake up and poof. Larger piles of snow, shifted clouds, and I’d still be alone.

  It’s funny, what really happened. You would’ve laughed, and I would’ve laughed with you.

  It was still kind of overcast by the time Jinyoung came up your walkway, and when he saw me, he started to run.

  “Hey, Cha Sunwoo!”

  Then I looked up and wondered what the hell he was doing there. What right did he have, coming to your house? Why was he here?

  Could the two of you possibly be dating? Had you moved on just like that?

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m waiting for Chansik,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Then, “Chansik’s not coming home.”

  And he said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world and all I could do was stare at him.

  “What?”

  “He’s not coming home, at least for a while. He’s visiting his parents for a couple of weeks. He left a few days ago. I’m watering his plants and stuff.”

  “He’s… he’s not coming?”

  I hadn’t even known. You hadn’t been answering your phone, but I never thought it was because you weren’t there to pick it up.

  Then Jinyoung shook his head, and he tutted, legitimately clicked his tongue at me and scoffed.

  “Look, I don’t know what went on between you guys, but you’re an idiot if you think contracting hypothermia is going to help your case, Sunwoo.”

  I wanted to be pissed at that, but he was right, of course.

  “It’s not—I’m just—I wanted to—”

  “Like I said, he’s not coming.”

  Then he came up onto the porch and started unlocking your door, but he looked down at me before he went in. He held out his hand and pulled me up, and my legs ached with the effort.

  I leaned forward and peered into your home. I had a view of your kitchen, of that table where we would sit and eat and talk.

  “Can I… Uh… Do you think I can come in?”

  It was embarrassing, how pathetic I must have looked for Jinyoung to give me that face, like I was a kitten in a box on the side of the road.

  “I think you should go home, Sunwoo.”

  Then he wiped his shoes on the welcome mat and went inside, shutting the door behind him.

  And then, after finding that my legs could still move, I left.

  I didn't look back, but I think that was because I knew I'd be on your porch again in a few weeks.

  Hopefully then, the sun would come out.

--
A/N:
WOW SORRY FOR ANGSTING AGAIN /sobs apologetically
I need cotton candy so I can write fluff trololol that was bad I'm sorry

Dim Streetlamps and Hopped Fences

minsgunshot — Mon, 12 Nov 2012 02:28:29 GMT

Title: Dim Streetlamps and Hopped Fences
Fandom: BTOB
Pairing: Sungjae/Peniel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 506
Summary: Sungjae is always up and about.

For this prompt at seoulfulness.

He could feel a bead of blood crawling down the side of his face, but he let it fall from his chin and leave a dark spot on his filthy jeans. The window was letting in the night’s icy, mid-December breeze, but he held his muscles taut, refusing to shiver.

  His head was pounding, so much it was almost dizzying, but he kept his eyes on the boy looking just as intently at the bit of ice he was holding to Sungjae’s bottom lip.

  “The swelling’s going down…”

  “Hyung, can you look at me?”

  Because no matter how hard he stared, no matter how still he stayed, propped up on the cold, white tile counter top, Peniel would not meet his gaze.

  “Look, I know you’re pissed, but—”

  “I’m not—” Peniel stops, stops and closes his eyes tight, keeping himself from screaming.

  “I’m not pissed, I’m just…” he finds the right words. “Tired. I’m just tired. I’m tired of phone calls at three in the morning, I’m tired of hearing you mumble at the end of the line because you can’t even figure out where you are, I’m tired of finding you sitting on broken glass with the crap beaten out of you—”

  Sungjae cuts him off with a mutter. “It’s not that bad, you should’ve seen the other—”

  “Sungjae, just shut up.”

  But he’s smiling and Sungjae wants to return it, but his face hurts too much for him to grin too widely.

  “I’m tired of having to patch you up like this.”

  There’s a bit of a silence, and Peniel raises a hand and sifts Sungjae’s hair through his fingers, almost absentmindedly.

  Sungjae leans into the touch, but something’s still wrong. His chest is still tight, and Peniel’s smirk had faded much too quickly.

  “…I’m sorry. I don’t know why you keep helping me out, when all I do is…” He stops.

  “I’m just more trouble than I’m worth, right?”

  Then Sungjae feels a small pull as Peniel tightens his hold on the short dark strands and pulls away, his clouded eyes clearing.

  “No, that’s a lie. You’re a lot of trouble, yeah… but not more than you’re worth.” He smiles again. “Trust me.”

  Then he pushes on the final bandage, right about Sungjae’s eye, and kisses it, gently.

  Then Peniel starts to clean up, turning away and walking across the small kitchen to put away the antiseptic.

  As he opens the cupboard, he feels someone press up against his back. Sungjae’s tall; he bends to place his chin on Peniel’s shoulder.

“Thanks.”

Peniel raises his arm to close the cabinet once again.

“Sure.”

Then Sungjae bends lower and speaks in a whisper, almost… embarrassed.

“You know you’re all I’ve got, right, hyung?”

Then he presses his lips lightly onto Peniel’s neck, and he responds with an arm tossed around Sungjae’s shoulder and a real kiss, one that catches Sungjae off guard, and though it still stings a bit he goes with it soon enough.

You’re all I’ve got, too.
--

A/N: These two were my oTP BEFORE I EVEN KNEW WHO THEY WERE AGH WHY. Hooray for delinquent!Sungjae, too. Teehee.

Bringing You Back

minsgunshot — Wed, 07 Nov 2012 07:02:21 GMT

Title: Bringing You Back
Fandom: BTOB
Pairing: Eunkwang/Minhyuk
Rating: G
Word Count: 418
Summary: Leader won't allow it.

For this drabble challenge.
Also, here at seoulfulness.

::Tremble, 418 words::

Sometimes he feels great.

  He’s got his smile on, and it’s genuine. He’s determined and confident and ready to feel hot under the spotlight and sing out his lungs and dance till he drops and enjoy it.

  And everything’s completely fine

  Sometimes it hurts, but he doesn’t give in.

  Sure, it feels like he just got punched in the stomach, like he can’t breathe, like someone keeps reaching through the skin on his chest and squeezing his heart.

  But he can still hold it in, easy.

  Sometimes he breaks.

  He feels lost and alone, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, where he’s going and why. He’s lost feeling in his arms and legs, and he’s mentally slapping himself, telling himself to keep it together.

  But it’s too damn hard.

  He’s lying in his bed in the pitch dark, biting his lip until it bleeds because he wants to scream but he can’t he can’t he can’t. Can’t let them hear, can’t wake them up, can’t have the lights turn on.

  But his face is wet with tears and his head aches and he’s shaking so much he can’t feel it when the covers lift and the mattress dips under the new weight. He doesn’t notice someone’s there until he hears him whisper.

  “It’s okay,” Eunkwang says, and it sounds so loud to Minhyuk but no one else stirs.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” he manages to say, face buried in his pillow, muscles tightening. But then there are arms wrapped around his chest and lips pressed to his shoulder.

  “No, I mean, it’s okay if you cry.”

  And for the longest time, nothing else is said, but after a while Minhyuk slowly turns and presses his face into Eunkwang’s chest, because he’d felt so cold before, and Eunkwang is so, so warm.

  Then he sobs even harder, holding on to the older boy’s t-shirt, for what feels like hours until he’s drained and sleepy and used to Eunkwang’s fingers running through his hair.

  “You feel better now, right?”

  Minhyuk stays silent and Eunkwang says his name. It sounds so nice, the way he says it, so he waits until he says it again before responding.

  “Yeah, hyung. I feel better.”

  Then Eunkwang sighs in relief, and Minhyuk can feel that a weight has been lifted.

  “Just tell me if something’s wrong, okay?”

  And Minhyuk shuts his eyelids tighter, because it sounds like he’s begging.

  “Okay.”

  “Every time? You swear?”

  Minhyuk actually laughs a little, surprising himself.

  “Every time.”

--
A/N:
This fandom hit me like a truck on the highway, I swear. I started watching their MTV ~~Acid Trip~~ Diary and then I saw this prompt and just SO MANY FEELINGS OK AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THEM
Also BTOB needs more fic ok js

Moving Targets and Flying Colors

minsgunshot — Mon, 22 Oct 2012 21:29:54 GMT

Title: Moving Targets and Flying Colors
Fandom: TVXQ
Pairing: Yunho/Changmin
Rating: G
Word Count: 385
Summary: Yunho is competitive and Changmin just wants to go home.

For this drabble challenge.

::Outside, 385 words::

“Hyung, aren’t you getting tired yet?”

  “We’ve only been our here for an hour and a half, Changmin.”

  It was the day of SM Entertainment’s annual paintball game, a somewhat ridiculous tradition that was both feared and revered by the artists, but in the end they all turned out as filthy and wrung out as dishrags.

  They had long been allocated into small groups, but their other teammates had been abandoned as soon as the two of them found a bush of considerable size behind which to station themselves. Within thirty-two minutes Changmin had enjoyed a short powernap, and Yunho had succeeded in picking off a quarter of Super Junior, SHINee’s slower runners, a couple of those EXO kids and a third of Girls’ Generation. Well, a few of those hit may have been victims of friendly fire, but again, Yunho had stopped differentiating between who was and wasn’t “friendly” ages ago.

  Now, however, TVXQ’s fearless leader was perched on the ninth lowest branch of a tree Changmin had no intention of touching.
Yunho called down to him, strategically quiet.

  “Are you coming up, or what?”

  “Hyung, why couldn’t we have stayed hidden? We were doing perfectly fine back there.”

  Yunho held a hand over his eyes and scanned the scenery for his next mark. “We can’t win if we camp the whole time, Changmin… Look, there’s Victoria, she’s… Hm… factor in where the others are probably positioned… probably has Amber hanging back and Sulli where… Obviously they’ve been hiding out… We could try flanking, but…”

  He continued to mutter to himself until Changmin called back up, his neck tired from staring up at the tree.

  “Who says we have to win?” Changmin asked, like he did every year, and again like every year, he received a smooth answer.

  “Changmin, you’re right. It’s not about winning…”

  Yunho stepped down a few branches and swung down, landing on his feet with a soft thud and wiping his hands on his dark pants.
“…It’s about complete and total domination.”

  And with that he started walking, deeper into the woods with his safety clicked off and his knees bent low.

  Then Changmin sighed and followed close behind, because he was dirty and exhausted yet still completely willing to follow his captain any which way he wished to go.

A/N:
Gasp Homin. What. What's happening.
No but really thank you for reading these author's notes are getting more and more ridiculous I'm sorry but I also love you so bwahaha

Take Care

minsgunshot — Mon, 22 Oct 2012 21:23:56 GMT

Title: Take Care
Fandom: After School
Pairing: Lizzy/Nana
Rating: G
Word Count: 235
Summary: Heels can be high and purses can qualify as first-aid kits.

For this drabble challenge.

::Thanks, 235 words::

Lizzy could tell Nana was trying to be discrete, but the horror movie scream she let out as the younger girl dragged a damp cloth over her knee hadn’t failed to turn heads.

  “We are in public,” Lizzys laughed, and Nana covered mouth, embarrassed.

  “It really hurts,” she explained, though the fact had already been made obvious.

  Lizzy dabbed antiseptic over the fresh scratches on Nana’s usually flawless skin, and Nana winced. “I know.”

  She started to open a couple of small bandages pulled from her purse, but Nana grabbed her wrist before she could place them.

  “Wait… Sooyoung, er… don’t you have anything different?”

  Lizzy made a face. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s just… It doesn’t look very charismatic to have Power Rangers on my knee…”

  Then Lizzy moved her hands away with a small huff, genuinely offended, and Nana sighed.

  “Never mind, go ahead. It’s fine, really. Thank you, Lizzy,” she said, and pinched her cheeks, then laughed when Lizzy shook away.

  “Just for that, you can’t have a Red Ranger,” she muttered, but Nana only laughed harder as the bandages were positioned and pressed on with care.

  And though Lizzy wiped the lip gloss from her forehead as soon as Nana pulled away—she had been caught off guard—she still offered her hand when they got up, not letting go even after Nana said she was perfectly fine to walk on her own.

A/N:
Oh, LiNa. You guys. Tsk. Silly. Gosh.
Ok thanks for reading haha I wrote this originally at like one in the morning IN A NOTEBOOK WITH PAPER AND A PENCIL WHAT THE

Of Hospital Hallways and Patterned Paper

minsgunshot — Sat, 20 Oct 2012 21:08:39 GMT

Title: Of Hospital Hallways and Patterned Paper
Fandom: B1A4
Pairing: Baro/Gongchan
Rating: G
Word Count: 628
Summary: In which Gongchan is ill and Baro indulges in arts and crafts.

For this drabble challenge.

::Thousand, 628 words::

Sunwoo wasn’t one for sentiment.

  At least, he didn’t think he was.

  So when Gongchan got really sick, as in Gongchan in the hospital, as in Gongchan not home, Sunwoo worried.

  Because Chanshik needed more than a box of tissues and a few days of rest. He needed more than what Baro usually provided when someone was sick—a pep talk and a smile, a hug that only started out awkward, a cup of tea with the bag left in much too long but was always accepted nonetheless.

  The older ones worried, too, but they were always worried. Baro, though, has only ever had Chanshik, and when it really counted he came up short, fidgeting and pacing as Gongchan got worse and worse.

“There’s nothing we can do.”

  They said that, all of them said that, but that was impossible; there was always something, anything, to be done.

  So Sunwoo turned to sentiment.

--

146

  Progress starts out slow. The process is simple, but that made it easier to err; Baro makes mistakes and starts anew, over and over until he masters the art of something he had thought so easy before.

  He works on his project every spare second he has, bringing bits and pieces everywhere he goes.

  A small pile accumulates at the foot of his bed, but it isn’t big enough.

--

359

The other members are curious, of course. They even offer to help.

  But he refuses and continues alone, because this was solely his to give.

  Not much, of course, but still his.

--

540

  The pile has gotten very, very, big, and Sunwoo looks at it and feels accomplished.

  And then a little sad, because he’s halfway through but Gongchan still isn’t home.

--

892

  Baro starts working on and off with a needle and thread.

  He carefully strings them together, counting meticulously.

  Forty to a strand, tie off and start again.

--

1000

He’s done.

  They are now an it, and it makes a loud ruffling noise when he moves it around.

  But that doesn’t wake Chanshik when he brings it on their next visit. Sunwoo doesn’t mind, assumes it’s for the best.

  Jinyoung tells him to leave it, so he does, and writes a note and sticks it onto the hook he’s using to hang it up.

Get better soon. I miss you.
- Sunwoo

He considers for a moment, and hastily crosses out the “I” for a “We”.

--

  When Gongchan comes home, looking drained and pale, but better, he walks through the door with a loud ruffling noise.

  When Baro sees him with it, he covers his face, embarrassed, because he doesn’t remember it looking that silly.

  It looks prettier in the middle of their dorm, the rest of them insist, and Sunwoo doesn’t believe it but Gongchan hangs it up anyway.

  And when he comes back down he slings a skinny arm around Baro’s neck, just Baro, though all five of them are standing in the center of the room to admire it.

  “Does this mean I get to make a wish?”

  Sunwoo laughs, but doesn’t answer.

  Instead he places a small peck on Gongchan’s cheek, because he’s happy enough to explode and so relieved it hurts and quite unwilling to admit he’s already used the wish. They don’t make eye contact after that, but Sunwoo knows he’s blushing and Chanshik is grinning.

  Gongchan takes it as a yes, though, and makes a silent request to those dozens of tiny paper birds.

  And when Baro inquires what’s been asked for, he’s told to come closer so the answer can be whispered in his ear, a “Thank you” in the form of a secret.

  But it’s a trick and Chanshik says something else instead.

  “I missed you, too.”

--
A/N:
I hope it's made clear enough what Baro was making, haha. I think the one he made would have been particularly cumbersome and fat, considering how many strings he used lol, but that's ok. Can I also say that I had a bunch of lame titles that I really wanted to use but also didn't want to use because they were so lame (i.e "Missing You InCREASingly" and "...Better Than a Hallmark Card?" and "The Senbazuru Solution").
Yeah don't mind me guys. Anyway, thank you for reading. I lub you <3

To Strike a Match

minsgunshot — Fri, 19 Oct 2012 00:55:07 GMT

Title: To Strike a Match
Fandom: ...?
Rating: G
Word Count: 165

For this drabble challenge.

::Flame, 165 words::

I think it’s easier to hate someone to love someone.

It takes time, takes effort, takes devotion.

  Because when you love someone, they make you want to be next to them. They’re like magnets, but then again, not like magnets, because rather than pulling you in, they make you want to push yourself closer. They make you want to smile because you know they’ll smile back.

  And that thing they make you feel. It’s more than respect or attraction or admiration. It’s need.

  Candles.

  That’s what you can call them.

  The rest of us are just moths, fluttering around aimlessly with our tiny discolored wings, not because we’re lost, but because we’re searching for that light, waiting for that irresistible glow to appear and take over our world.

  I’d wanted to be someone’s candle before.

At one point, I thought I already was, but it doesn’t matter to me much, anymore.

  Because in the end we’re all screwed.

  Because moths die and candles go out.

A/N:
This was a really random thing, but I liked it, and I kind of want to use it as a basis/prelude for a long!fic in the future Hm. I'll figure something out. As in, I need time to contemplate between fandoms OTL But anyway, thank you for reading.

Life Ruiner: Ballad of a Closet Blinger

minsgunshot — Thu, 18 Oct 2012 01:39:38 GMT

Title: Life Ruiner: Ballad of a Closet Blinger
Fandom: SHINee
Pairing: Jonghyun/Shawols
Rating: G
Word Count: 119
Summary: It wasn't deliberate.

For this drabble challenge.

::Mad, 119 words::

In the beginning, I only harbored curiosity.

Then slowly…

I began to hate him with a passion.

I kept looking back at the pictures and replaying the videos and listening to that stupid, stupid voice of his over and over and over.

“Is he your favorite?”

But I resisted, because no, it wasn’t true, couldn’t be. That ridiculous laugh, that cocky attitude, those cheekbones that belonged on a Velociraptor…

That smile, those eyes, the way everything he did had me smiling like an idiot.

So I fell in love, and I felt manipulated, like he was playing me like he plays that goddamn guitar.

The battle was long and hard, but I suppose we all lose in the end.

A/N:
~~Wow guys this isn't a ballad this isn't even a fic what is this why is this happening~~ Basically going off the fact that even if you're not a Blinger... you're a Blinger sorry.
This was silly and I'm a troll. ~~These drabbles will be the death of me.~~ Thank you for reading, though, if you did *glitter rain*

In the Long Run

minsgunshot — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 04:16:09 GMT

Title: In the Long Run
Fandom: EXO
Pairing: Kris/Suho
Rating: G
Word Count: 476
Summary: Suho puts in a lot of effort.

For this drabble challenge.

::Future, 476 words::

“Just freaking open it."

"I can't. You do it.”

  Though perhaps this was a conversation Wu Fan would've enjoyed elsewhere, in its current context it was one he found irritating to have.

So he snatches the thick white envelope from Junmyeon’s hands and holds it between his own long fingers, judging it silently before ripping it open with a single deft motion.

Wu Fan rolls his eyes as he unfolds the envelope's contents, seeing how much Junmyeon was shaking.

“W-what does it say?"

  “It says you should start running, Junmyeon," he mutters, his expression dark and his tone as foreboding as he could make it.

Junmyeon opens his lips, his mouth dry and his voice stuck in his throat, but before the poor kid could start crying, Wu Fan shoots back the paper with a flick of his wrist, its line of A's all the way down the left margin clearly unbroken.

“Joking, of course."

Then he winces when Junmyeon's knuckles dig into his arm. "Don't do that to me, damn it!"

Then he's watching Junmyeon hold his marks up to his face, inspecting them with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, and though Wu Fan would rather he channel that intensity elsewhere he still smiles when Junmyeon sighs in relief, sitting back like he's escaped a death sentence.

“I don't get why this is that huge of a deal for you," Wu Fan says absently, chin in his hand.

“I don't get why it's not a huge deal for you."

Junmyeon stuffs his report card back in its envelope, while Wu Fan’s remains untouched at the bottom of his bag.

  He’s not facing him, but he can see Wu Fan smirk from the corner of his eye.

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot. You’re not really the type to care about something you need to put effort into.”

  Wu Fan fakes offense, gasping and putting a hand to his heart. “Why, Kim Junmyeon. You don’t think hanging out with you all the time takes a lot of effort?”

  Junmyeon scoffs. “It’s a future thing.”

  “The future? What?”

  “You know, the future! It’s about… about me graduating, and then getting into a good school and then getting my degree and then getting a job and—”

  Here Junmyeon is interrupted.

Though, the kiss is softer than the usual "Just shut up" kiss. But only by a bit.

  And it only gets stranger when it's Wu Fan who stops first, but only to inquire quietly,

  “What about me? Am I part of this future of yours?”

  Junmyeon pulls away and shrugs.

  “I don’t think so. I’ll probably end up ditching you along the way, seeing as you’re only dragging me down…”

  But then he’s smiling into Wu Fan’s scowl, and laughing every time their mouths part, only to come back together in a split second.

  “Joking, of course.”

--

A/N:
~~The hell did I just write~~ No I've been trying to get through a writer's block, and I was talking to someone about my grades and how they suck and then this happened. ~~Why, though. Why~~

Past and Present

minsgunshot — Fri, 05 Oct 2012 01:07:04 GMT

Title: Past and Present
Fandom: SHINee
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Self-harm
Word Count: 173
Summary: People are hard to convince.

For this drabble challenge.

::Silver, 173 words::

Silver.

  The color of Jonghyun’s stupid earrings.

  The color that borders the clouds.

  The color that glints, ever so slightly.

  And then there was the red.

  “I’m fine, now.”

  But even though he nods, even though he says he knows, he still holds me like I’m falling apart. He lips still linger that much longer on those scars before they explore the rest of my body, and it feels like he doesn’t believe me.

  “Does it hurt?” he murmurs, when he brushes his fingers up and down my arms, along those lines of white that have stopped
hurting a long, long time ago.

  “No, not anymore.”

  Then he holds me closer, and even though it’s too warm, even though it makes me feel smaller than ever before, I bury my face in his chest.

  “Are you really okay, Taemin?”

  I bite my lip. “I’ve gotten past it. It’s okay.”

  Then a little later he falls asleep.

  But his muscles are still tense and I’m still awake, because we both know it’s a lie.

--
A/N:~~AGH ANGSTY JONGTAE AGAIN WHY CAN'T I JUST WRITE FLUFF OR SOMETHING WHY~~ I wrote this for seoulfulness a while ago, but the op never responded *sobs* Good thing I mixed prompts, so this counts for my drabble challenge, too, hooray. Thanks for reading, loves.

Because I'm Better at Getting Away With It

minsgunshot — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 02:04:43 GMT

Title: Because I'm Better at Getting Away With It
Fandom: B1A4
Pairing: Jinyoung-centric, I would say
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 468
Summary: Jinyoung and Baro get some revenge.

For this drabble challenge.

::Prepared, 468 words::

“Ready to go?”

  “Would it matter if I said I wasn’t?”

  Baro snickered, the car engine rumbling to life when he turned the key.

  “Not even a little.”

  Then Jinyoung sighed and put his backpack on, shaking his head like he was about to slip a noose around his neck.

  “Oh, come on,” Sunwoo said, slapping Jinyoung’s shoulder. “It’s not like we’re busting any tail lights.”

  “Might I remind you that you first suggested we ‘Go hard or go home’?”

  But again Baro only laughed.

  They parked near her house, as far as they could from a streetlight.

  They crept low across the road, and stopped on the curb right next to her driveway, right next to the cute little Sedan her parents had bought her.

  Baro took something out of his backpack and started handing it to Jinyoung, but he shook his head. “You have to ask the question.”

  Sunwoo rolled his eyes.

  “Ask it!”

  “All right, jeez…” He cleared his throat. “Is this really worth it?”

  And then Jinyoung looked at the aerosol can and thought about the way her lips and waist curved, the way she lied down with her head in his lap and played with his hair, the way she liked pineapple ice cream but not real pineapples.

  Then he took the paint and shook it vigorously so the clicking echoed down the street.

  He didn’t really miss the phone calls, the kisses and hugs and their stupid ‘I love you’s’.

  Because she still screwed him over, big time.

  So it was completely, totally worth it.

  Then he sprayed giant characters onto the shiny hood of her precious Honda Accord, the same word he had wanted to tattoo onto her forehead when he had seen her with her tongue down some other bastard’s throat, a hand tangled in her hair and another in the back pocket of her shortest shorts.

  Each line and loop was white and bright against the black paint of her car, and they glowed like a beacon in the dark.

  BITCH.

"Nice."

  “So, Sunwoo… How much do you think repainting a car costs?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’m thinking a lot.”

  “Awesome.”

  Then he slipped his bag off his shoulders and pulled out a carton while Baro brought out rolls of paper and started throwing them onto the roof and into the branches of the trees next to her driveway.

  And then they started throwing about eight dollars worth of eggs, aiming at the windows and doors, watching them smash into the stucco, making sure to keep score.

  And when the porch lights flickered on, they bolted.

  At the stoplight three blocks down, they high-fived while they caught their breaths.

  “Hey, Sunwoo.”

  “Yeah?”

  Jinyoung grinned.

  “Thanks.”

  Baro smirked and turned the corner.

  “I still wish I brought a golf club or something.”

--
A/N: Oh, delinquent!B1A4. How you make me smile. No, but really, I'm sure Jinyoung could totally play the scorn woman. Thank you for reading!

She's a Fighter

minsgunshot — Sun, 30 Sep 2012 06:50:51 GMT

Title: She's a Fighter
Fandom: NU'EST/Hello Venus
Pairing: Aron/Yooyoung
Rating: G
Word Count: 171
Summary: Yooyoung's made a choice.

For this drabble challenge.

::Promise, 171 words::

When Yooyoung decides to go, Aron's gaze is cold.

“Enlist? That’s not something to joke about.”

"But you believe in me, right?”

Then he’s hugging her, wondering how much longer he has until he’ll be standing alone in that kitchen.

--

When Yooyoung is about to go, Aron's all smiles.

“Are you ready?”

“Since the day I was born.”

Then he’s holding her hand through the open window, until the car begins to move and suddenly he’s not.

--

When Yooyoung is gone, Aron is expressionless.

“I’m sorry. She was a very strong person.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she really was.”

Then he’s ending the call and throwing his phone to the floor, because it’s strong, too.

But in the end it still breaks.

--

When Yooyoung was still there, Aron held her close, loved her more than anything.

“I just want us to be like this forever, you know?”

“Well, we will be! I promise.”

Then he’s kissing her like she’s holding the world’s oxygen, for without her he would surely, surely drown.

--

A/N: Damn, guys. I don't know, something about Panic! At the Disco makes me want to write sad stuff. ~~Because they're so great it makes me cry.~~ I was feeling like het today, and crack!ships make me happier than anyone will ever know. ~~I also have a thing for age difference is that weird it's weird isn't it~~ Anyway, thanks for reading. Hooray *confetti*

The Routine

minsgunshot — Mon, 24 Sep 2012 03:07:43 GMT

Title: The Routine
Fandom: B1A4
Pairing: Jinyoung/Sandeul
Rating: G
Word Count: 963
Summary: Junghwan isn't that unobservant.

For this drabble challenge.

::Order, 963 words::

There’s a quiet hole-in-the-wall coffee shop a few blocks from Jinyoung’s school.

  The air inside always smells like breakfast muffins and the thermostat is always set at the perfect temperature. All the furniture is made from dark, polished wood. There’s never much of a line but there are only half a dozen tables and a few seats at the counter next to the register. The coffee is great and the baked goods are freshly made.

  It’s a place for Jinyoung, and he loves it.

  But he rarely goes there.

  Instead he goes to the one just across the street, with a line that often goes out the door.

  It’s always packed no matter what time of day it is, and sometimes it’s even hard to get through the crowd of people to buy anything. Its uncomfortable chairs and sharp-cornered tables are filled with giggly teenagers who take the tops off of their drinks to sip at the foam while they make droll conversation that Jinyoung can’t stand even to overhear. The pictures on the wall are simply swirls on canvas, but fortunately the dim glow radiating from the tacky light fixtures makes them hard to see anyway.

  It’s a place for art majors and yoga pants and acoustic guitars and Chai tea, and he hates it.

  But he goes anyway, from five until closing on week days, for the kid who works there, the kid who always shows up just in time to take that seat two rows down in Physical Chemistry III, the kid who gives their professor a high-five and takes notes with a fluorescent orange pen.

  It’s unlikely that Junghwan knows his name, or that they even go to the same school, but Jinyoung still appreciates it, that smile, that eye contact and that short yet satisfying exchange of words when he reaches the front to order. Eventually he doesn’t even have to finish his sentence, because Junghwan already knows what he plans to say, the same thing every time.

  Every time.

  So the day that someone else, someone not Junghwan, is handing him his receipt and change, Jinyoung’s worried, settled yet unsettled in the tiny corner table.

  And he hardly notices when someone comes up, someone wearing a shirt too bright a color and a strangely familiar pair of dark wash jeans.

  “Can I sit here?”

  Then, hey, there’s that huge grin, those long bangs, those white teeth.

  “Y-yeah… Of course, sure.”

  So Lee Junghwan takes the seat across from him, putting a foot up on his knee and leaning far over the table, so that Jinyoung has to keep his spine pressed up against the back of the chair to keep their usual distance.

  “So you came, then? You’re awfully predictable.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I had a day off today. Are you surprised?”

  He was staring up at Jinyoung with wide eyes, his elbows on the table and both of his hands up to the sides of his face.

  Jinyoung didn’t answer, a little confused, a little suspicious, a little dazed, so Junghwan continued. “You must be wondering why I’m back here, then, if I have a day off? Well that’s easy, since I wanted to see if you came. It was an experiment, but I already knew what the results were before.” He shrugged, and laughed, tiny crinkles appearing around his eyes. Jinyoung takes another sip of his drink, feeling like a school girl on her first date.

  Junghwan watches him with interest.

  “You know, you can learn a lot just by knowing what kind of drink a person likes.”

  Jinyoung looks up. “Like what?”

  “Nothing too deep, but I do know that you’re a thoughtful person because you always order black coffee.”

  Jinyoung’s face heats up, but then he raises an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with how thoughtful I am?”

  “A lot of the times you’re here, it’s during a busy time. Black coffee is the probably the easiest thing to make, and you don’t even drink it black; whenever you get it you go over to the counter and you add your own cream and sugar.”

  “Maybe I’m just particular about how I like my coffee.”

  “You’re right, maybe you’re just finicky… but I’m sorry to say that I don’t really buy into that.”

  And the way he says it, the way he’s staring, keeps Jinyoung silent after that, though he keeps pulling at his sleeves and drinking and looking everywhere except at Junghwan until he finds something to say.

  “Why did you want to see if I came today?”

  “Again, you’re really predictable. I was wondering when you’d ask that. And the answer is: Because we talk every day, but I really don’t know anything about you. Besides how thoughtful you are, of course.”

  Jinyoung blinked.

  “Are you saying that you’d like to know?”

  Then a pause, for here, it was Junghwan’s turn to fidget, to drum his fingers on the table and open his mouth even though nothing would come out, but Jinyoung is genuinely curious, even a little surprised by the current direction of their conversation, so he waits patiently for a response.

  He never gets one, though, so he offers an escape for Junghwan, with his silver tongue turned lead.

  “How about we get coffee, right now? I wouldn’t mind another one.”

  Junghwan finds his words again, though he still looks confused. “What, here? No offense, but even though I work at this—”

  Then Jinyoung cuts him off, smirking. “No, not here, of course not here. I know this place, it’s a few blocks from the school…”

  And after a while the the two of them depart, virtually unnoticed, the sound of the streets slipping inside for just a bit before they finally close the door behind them.

--
A/N: Phew! That was a long one, not sure if it classifies as a drabble, but I'm a rulebender kekeke. I was spending too much time contemplating whether or not to join b1a4ss's secret santa exchange for this year OTL so this happened. Thank you for reading!

On Display

minsgunshot — Sun, 23 Sep 2012 03:09:20 GMT

Title: On Display

::Diamond, 137 words::

A girl is a diamond, plucked from deep, deep in the ground

covered in mud, so that no one knows how bright the diamond is

besides the diamond herself.

But a woman

a woman is a diamond that glows from the outside in,

for she has passed through the hands

of the world’s many refiners.

Because the diamond is strong.

She is harder than steel and endures

every knife and blade

so that the universe can look upon her and see

just how beautiful, how perfect she can be.

So she allows them all

to shear and slice and slash at every little flaw, each tiny imperfection

until they are satisfied.

But rarely are they finished.

Rarely can they bring themselves to stop

cutting and cutting and cutting

at the shining diamond

until there’s absolutely

nothing

left.

--

A/N: I am not a poet. I just don't do poetry. I like reading it, but otherwise poetry and I are merely acquaintances. I thought of this in the shower, and time was running out for today's drabble, so I'm going to classify this is as a drabble haha. For this challenge. Thank you for reading.

About Me

minsgunshot — Sat, 22 Sep 2012 07:16:00 GMT

Dear Tumblr,

This, by the way, is my LiveJournal. You're free to poke around, but as of late I haven't written anything with regards to MBLAQ, sorry, I'm planning to sometime in the future though, once I get around to watching Idol Manager ~~and analyzing every bit as basis for characterization~~

A few things just to let you know exactly whose blog you've tripped over.

- My name's Megan
- I'm Filipino, Pinoy pride!
- I'm a Taurus, which is somewhat relevant to me
- I'm a Shawol, a BANA, an ELF, a Cassie, a LOΛE, and an A+, woot woot. For girl groups I'd have to say I'm a Hello Cupid, and part of the Playgirlz... Pledis family love
- Yes. I ship it.

I'm probably going to post a lot of spazzy text posts in the near future, please don't mind them. I also tend to rant or fangirl in the tags, but who doesn't do that? The tags are for overflowing feelings e_e

Also one last thing: Blog theme cred (while also on the bottom of my blog) goes here! The original theme post, for future reference if needed.
As you can see I enjoy simplicity, at least when it comes to themes/layouts.

A Blur

minsgunshot — Sat, 22 Sep 2012 05:42:28 GMT

Title: A Blur
Fandom: NU'EST
Pairing: JR/Minhyun
Rating: PG
Word Count: 507
Summary: It can be exciting, being the last one awake.

For this drabble challenge.

::Haze, 507 words::

It had started out unintentional.

  Or perhaps that wasn’t the word for it, since Minhyun had known what would result from leaning over and bringing his face so close, that close.

  But Jonghyun hardly stirred, so it was simply a completely planned kiss with a result that took Minhyun by surprise, sent a current of electricity running through him, a jolt through his tired mind, a shock that had certainly not been expected.

  It had been the quiet of their current space; boredom, or maybe the feeling of exhaustion that permeated the room where even the drone of the television sounded like snoring.

  It had been the funny bit of secrecy to it all, the fact that the rest of them were far and deep in their own dreamy worlds and he, only he, could get away with such a scandalous, silly little act, a tiny peck, upon the innocent leader with his back propped up against the furniture.

  It had been the color of JR’s lips—always bitten bright red— that contrasted so perfectly with the pale, lifelessness of the rest of the universe at that very moment.

  Though what kept them kissing, what made their mouths begin to move with each other, what made Minhyun keep moving his face back and forth with the full knowledge that JR, eyes shut, would only follow to close any space between them with growing intensity… that was a mystery.

  Then Minhyun found himself poised right above him, balancing himself so their chests were touching, but just barely. Minhyun was now fully awake, fully aware of the embarrassingly strong urge to put his hands on Jonghyun’s hips and pull him even closer than they already were. JR’s sighs were sleepy and soft, but Minhyun could feel his heart beating a bit quicker with each second that passed.

  Then JR’s eyes fluttered open.

  Minhyun was amazed at the calm look in those half-lidded eyes that simply stared blankly while he himself—too jilted to even pull away completely—was struggling to catch his breath and find himself again.

  And then they closed completely; Jonghyun had fallen back asleep, leaving Minhyun to deal with the feeling of fire crawling through his veins.

--

At dinner JR was grinning widely, though he looked so dazed Minhyun wasn’t too panicked.

  “What are you so happy about?” Aron wondered absently, his mouth half full.

  “I don’t know… I just had a really good dream earlier…”

  “What was it about?”

  Minhyun swallowed a particularly large spoonful of rice, but he kept his head down and his coughs suppressed.

  “I’m not sure, but it was just… really, really good.”

  “But you don’t know what it was about?” Baekho asked, laughing.

  Minhyun could see JR’s gaze scanning the room, flitting back and forth, like he was looking for something, but he didn’t know what.

  “Yeah, it was kind of… I don’t know how to describe it…”

  “Hazy?” Minhyun offered, finally looking up and putting on his calmest face.

  Then Jonghyun’s sight finally settled on him.

  “Yeah. Hazy.”

--
A/N: Can I just say that, being perfeclty honest, I have no idea how this turned into a 2Hyun fic. Ironically, it BEGAN UNINTENTIONALLY. And then... things happened and just, just, argh. Again, it's all very ironic how I kind of lost control of the direction this was going.
Something else: I notice there's been a serious NU'EST fic deficiency, at least here on LJ, and not just the normal NU'EST fic deficiency, but a serious one. It's worrying me because WHY?! WHY?!
Anyway, thank you for reading. Four days down.

What I Meant To Say

minsgunshot — Fri, 21 Sep 2012 01:34:33 GMT

Title: What I Meant To Say
Fandom: SHINee
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin
Rating: G
Word Count: 575
Summary: Jonghyun makes a visit.

For this drabble challenge.

::Letters, 575 words::

He had the note, right there in his hands.

  Weeks ago, he would never have been afraid to be where he was at that moment. In fact, he wouldn’t have bothered knocking, because the door would have been opened before he stepped foot past that stupid fence that lined Taemin’s front lawn, with the gate that was old and iron and creaked when somebody walked through.

  But this time no one opened the door.

  Jonghyun supposed it was for the better.

  He stopped at the front step, not even approaching the door, and looked down at that small bit of paper that was like fire between his fingers.

  He had written so much before.

  I never wanted us to end up this way. I never thought about you leaving me, about you being apart from me, but now that you’re gone it just hurts so much and I don’t know what to do—

  Scribbled over and discarded.

  Hi, it’s been a while. I’ve been texting you but you haven’t been answering, so I stopped. I keep wanting to call you because I just want to hear your voice but to tell you the truth I can’t even bring myself to dial your number. So I decided to just—

  Crumpled up and thrown across the room.

  I went to that book store, do you remember the one? I haven’t been there since we met.
And then I saw you at the counter, buying something, a textbook. Aren’t you a really good student, Taeminnie? I was hoping that you would turn around but at the same time I was hoping you’d just leave without our eyes even meeting. I almost tapped you on the shoulder to say hi, but you just looked so calm, so happy. You were smiling, and I guess I didn’t want to ruin that—

  Torn up into more pieces than he could count.

  I love you.

  I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

  This one. This one, he had almost given. But he had said those words before, so many times, and it hadn’t mattered. Not one bit.

  Jonghyun was so, so tired of words.

  So he held in his hand only a few, on a slip of paper someone else could have used for a grocery list or middle-school gossip.

  And he knocked on the door.

  Waited.

  Knocked again, rang the doorbell.

  He was shaking.

  Out of fear, out of anger; he was a coward.

--

  The note was lain almost carelessly on the welcome mat of his front step.

  But the syllables had been penned slowly, and he could read them out distinctly before even picking them up.

  And he felt so stiff when he stood back up, like he was struggling to keep himself together.

  Taemin could hear the pattering of footsteps already far, far away, could hear the screech of the gate, left open so the wind pushed it back and forth.

  He had been here, right here.

I miss you.
-Jonghyun

--
A/N: Another OTP of mine, agh. Three fics, five drabbles, three days down! Thank you for reading.

His Best Place

minsgunshot — Thu, 20 Sep 2012 01:52:22 GMT

Title: His Best Place
Fandom: SHINee
Pairing: Minho/Key
Rating: G
Word Count: 317
Summary: Sometimes Minho goes off by himself.

For this drabble challenge.

::Companion, 317 words::

Minho has a spot.

  He found it years ago when he ran away from home. Not crying, not angry. Simply curious.

  In the spring the grass is warm and dry enough to sleep on for hours. In the summer the spot is shaded perfectly. The trees shield him from the wind in the fall and then in the winter their high branches catch the snow.

  When he sits in his spot he can hear rustling and squawking and the soft breeze making the leaves whisper. He can hear himself think.

  So the spot is never too cold or too hot or too loud or too quiet.

And the best part was that it was no one else’s but his.

Minho has a friend.

  He found him years ago when Kibum’s cat wandered into the Choi’s hydrangeas. Not hurt, not lost. Simply curious.

  Kibum is the opposite of Minho’s spot. Extreme, in every meaning of the word. Intense and fast-paced. He’s relentless and dramatic with every game they play or bet they make, though Minho wins every time. He laughs with his head thrown back. He knows everything about everything.

  It makes Minho feel nervous, the way even his heart seems to beat heavier, quicker whenever it’s the two of them. As if Kibum, simply by being there, sped up the world.

  So Kibum is always too fierce, always too brazen, always too… alive.

But Minho likes him anyway.

Minho misses it.

  The feeling of contentment he used to get from sitting in his spot. Because, after a while, he begins to feel that something is incomplete about the situation.

  He tries staying even longer to contemplate, but he can’t concentrate, can’t relax, as well as he used to. The sounds of outside interrupt his thoughts and listening to just his own breathing doesn’t seem like enough anymore.

  He wonders what the problem is.

Perhaps he’ll ask Kibum.

--

A/N: M-my OTP feels... /sob
Thank you for reading.

Unspoken

minsgunshot — Wed, 19 Sep 2012 04:47:49 GMT

Title: Unspoken
Fandom: B1A4
Pairing: CNU/Sandeul
Rating: G
Word Count: 1062
Summary: Sandeul shares his light.

[This is a series of drabbles for this drabble challenge, culminating into one fic.]

::Summer, 349 words::
--
It was the summer before fourth grade, under the hot, hot sun.

  He was crazy and playful and loud and fantastically, irresistibly bright. His smile and skin glowed as he raised his hands up and did cartwheels in the grass until he was too tired and dizzy to do any more.

  “I’m new to the neighborhood,” he said, when he finally realized someone had been watching, and stuck out his hand. “My name is Lee Junghwan.”

  It practically bounced off Dongwoo’s tongue as he repeated it, and saying his own name in comparison was like drinking flat soda.
“Want to play with us?”

  It’s really nice to meet you.

  The other kids, though, said his name like it was salt in their mouths. They looked the boy up and down, taking in his dirty jeans and skinny arms and goofy grin. But they still put him on Dongwoo’s team, and the game commenced, with their makeshift goals and slightly flat black-and-white ball.

  But apparently Junghwan wasn’t cut out for the sport. He tripped over his feet even more often than he tripped over the ball, and kept finding himself turning in circles, wondering in which direction he ought to run.

  After a while he got too tired and sat down in the middle of their tiny field to play with the ladybugs climbing up the blades of grass.

  Soon a shadow appeared over his tiny green world. He looked up and saw them standing over him, silhouetted with the sun shining right above them.

  Get out of here!

  His mouth made an “o”, but he was smiling as he got up to leave, though not before he caught Dongwoo’s eye.

  You can come if you want.

  But Dongwoo just shook his head, looking down at his shoes, and from the corner of his eye he could see Junghwan shrug and move back to the other side of the park.

And even as they continued, he kept looking over at Junghwan’s cartwheels, wondering how bad it would be if he were to depart from the game and do them, too.

::Wind, 333 words::
--
It was their final middle school autumn, a Friday.

  They hadn’t said much on the way home that day. The cold seeped through their coats and the brisk wind whipped relentlessly at their uncovered ears and faces. Dongwoo kept stealing glances at him, although their eyes didn’t meet.

  Are you really okay?

  Junghwan was keeping his head down, staying uncharacteristically quiet, simply looking down at the pavement, kicking at the leaves and smashing them with a crunch beneath his feet.

  Years had gone by. They had gotten too busy for bike rides and skinned knees, too old for sleeping beneath half finished forts made late at night. Now Dongwoo sat at class council meetings, and Junghwan sat at empty tables during lunch. Girls left presents and notes on Dongwoo’s desk, while things went missing from Junghwan’s locker.

  His desk in the courtyard. His notebooks in puddles. Silence as he walked by, whispers when he passed.

  What a loser.

  But Junghwan wasn’t a loser, could never be a loser. He could be a clown or a little kid or an angel. But apparently he was only Dongwoo’s clown, Dongwoo’s kid, Dongwoo’s angel. No one else’s.

  So they still shared pitchers of lemonade on the porch, still played video games until the sun rose. Junghwan got hurt and Dongwoo patched him up. Junghwan could make jokes and Dongwoo could find laughter underneath the stress and pain. They couldn’t help but smile at each other even on their darkest days.

  “Do you want to come over for dinner or something?” Junghwan finally spoke up, and Dongwoo almost sighed in relief.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  And a switch flipped in Junghwan. He went off with a story about dinner the night before, and then about steamed vegetables, and then about whether carrots or broccoli was better, then whether pineapples or watermelons were better, and on and on and on and Dongwoo cracked up.

  Because Junghwan still had his shine, his beautiful, perfect shine that lit up Dongwoo’s universe.

::Formal, 380 words::
--
It was the night of the juniors’ formal dance, a week before Christmas break began.

  Neither of them was attending, for one was hiding and the other was seeking, though it wasn’t a game they were playing.

  Dongwoo finally found him at the park, trying to do cartwheels in the snow.

  He was only wearing a thin jacket and his gloveless hands were like ice when Dongwoo grabbed them to bring him back up.

  Perhaps it was the cold, perhaps it was the overcast sky and the dark of the evening, but Junghwan looked dull, gray. Dim. He didn’t look at Dongwoo, even when he was gripped by the wrists and shaken.

  Junghwan didn’t want to attend the dance, no matter how many times Dongwoo asked him. He didn’t feel right in crowded places, he didn’t know how to dance, and after all…

  Could he really be thinking about going?

  Ugh. I hope not.

  … he didn’t expect it to be very fun for him, anyway.

  There were a lot more fun things to do on a night like this.

  He had almost asked Dongwoo to come to the park, too, so they could play like they had all those years before. But Dongwoo had grown up; he had other people to play with now.

  I really don’t mind—you can go by yourself.

  Then why did he look angry? Why were Dongwoo’s eyes brimming with tears? Why—and what—was he yelling?

  …You could die doing this.

  Now that he thought about it, Junghwan did feel a little chilled. A little numb.

  But wasn’t that part of the fun?

  After a while Dongwoo stopped and just stood there, his hands on Junghwan’s shoulders as he tried to search those clouded eyes for something, anything.

  But they only widened when he said, genuinely curious. “Why aren’t you at the dance?”

And Dongwoo laughed. It began as a biting, humorless laugh, but when Junghwan joined in it became sincere. Then they stopped, and Dongwoo hugged him, tightly. And Junghwan sighed as the warmth that had been missing returned to the both of them.

  “You don’t think it’d be boring without you?”

  So they stood with their chins resting on each other’s shoulders.

...You don’t think I could ever live without you?
--

A/N: Something a little gloomier for B1A4, but I still hope you liked it. Thank you for reading.

Thirty Drabbles Challenge

minsgunshot — Wed, 19 Sep 2012 04:32:10 GMT

I've taken up a drabble challenge!

[Start: 18 September 2012]

From the ORIGINAL: "Using the prompts below, write 30 drabbles (one every day - or more at one time, as long as you finish all the prompts within a month) and find someone willing to hit you if you miss a day. Look back at the end and go 'Oh! I'm a writer!'."

Prompts:

Beginning Accusation Restless Snowflake Haze Flame
Formal Companion Move Silver Prepared Knowledge
Denial Wind Order Thanks Look Summer
Transformation Tremble Sunset Mad Thousand Outside
Winter Diamond Letters Promise Simple Future

Masterlist

minsgunshot — Fri, 07 Sep 2012 03:26:00 GMT

Peruse as you please, lovelies.

All of my fanfics are listed by group (though there aren't many that I can list, as of late) in alphabetical order, and then in backwards order from when were posted onto this journal. Crossovers and challenge posts have their own section at the bottom. These are all one-shots unless stated otherwise. Thank you for taking a look!

After School:

Take Care
Lizzy/Nana
G

B1A4:

Cut Off
Baro/Gongchan
G

Of Hospital Hallways and Patterned Paper
Baro/Gongchan
G

Because I'm Better at Getting Away With It
Jinyoung-Centric
PG-13

The Routine
Jinyoung/Sandeul
G

Unspoken
CNU/Sandeul
G

The Plan
CNU/Baro
G

I Can't Hear You
Baro/Jinyoung
G

BTOB:

Bringing You Back
Eunkwang/Minhyuk
G

Dim Streetlamps and Hopped Fences
Sungjae/Peniel
PG

EXO:

In the Long Run
Kris/Suho
G

INFINITE:

Close To You -CHAPTERED-
Myungsoo/Sungjong, Sungjong-centric
PG
(Part One)

NU'EST:

A Blur
JR/Minhyun
PG

A Simple Tune
Minhyun/Baekho
G

A Point of View
JR/Minhyun
G

The Only One
JR/Minhyun
G

Sincerely, Ren
JR/Ren
PG

SHINee:

Life Ruiner: Ballad of a Closet Blinger
Jonghyun/Shawols
G

Past and Present
Jonghyun/Taemin
PG-13

What I Meant To Say
Jonghyun/Taemin
G

His Best Place
Minho/Key
G

Every So Often
Jonghyun/Onew
G

Second Chances (Break-ups and Bubble Tea)
Jonghyun/Minho
G

Two Hours
Onew-centric
PG

TVXQ:

Moving Targets and Flying Colors
Yunho/Changmin
G

Unspecified:

To Strike a Match
G

Crossovers

She's a Fighter
NU'EST/Hello Venus
Aron/Yooyoung
G

The Second Bottle
SHINee/SNSD
Minho/Yuri
PG

The Sad Lover's Toast
SHINee/SNSD, SHINee/f(x)
Minho/Yuri, Minho/Amber
G

Waking Up Fine
MBLAQ/After School
Lizzy/Lee Joon
PG-13

Run Forward, Look Back
Super Junior and After School
Leeteuk and Lizzy-centric
G

Challenges

Thirty Days Drabble Challenge
General
Completed: 18/30

Every So Often: Anon Memes 29 August 2012

minsgunshot — Thu, 30 Aug 2012 00:30:18 GMT

For a prompt at seoulfulness.

Every So Often
Jonghyun/Onew
SHINee
G

“Hey, make a wish, Jjong.”

  Jinki had spoken up, interrupting one of the long, yet comfortable, pauses in the conversation they were having as they sat on their front step, letting their minds wander and their eyes adjust to the dim shine of the street lamps while the younger kids slept.

  Jonghyun liked these nights. These little bits of time when he had his hands stuffed into his pockets and the cold wind bit at his cheeks and ears, but he didn’t mind at all, because they were together, so close their thighs touched.

  “A wish?” Jonghyun remarked quietly after a while.

  “Yeah, you make one every time a star shoots by. Right?”

  The younger man put his chin his his knees. “I’ve heard… that it means that someone’s fallen in love.”

  “Well, that’s weird. I’m sure more people fall in love than stars fall from space.” Onew looked up again to where Jonghyun was staring almost unblinkingly, the glow of the soft light bouncing off his wide eyes.

  Jonghyun shrugged. “Yeah. I guess it happens all the time. Not that big of a deal, huh?”

  “No, that’s not true,” Jinki answered, leaning back.

  “We only saw that star for a little bit, but… Love can last a long time, I guess, especially if there’s someone there to love you back.”

  Jinki took his eyes off the sky and set them on Jonghyun, who after a bit came back down to meet Onew’s gaze.

  Jonghyun placed his hand delicately on top of Onew’s, then froze, as if he had suddenly become unsure of what he was doing. But Jinki turned his wrist and interwove their fingers.

  “Ok. I have my wish,” Jonghyun said, with his chin resting on his knees, after a few moments of enjoying the extra heat being shared between them.

  Jinki smirked, his eyes still raised. “That’s funny, because I know who I’ve fallen for.”

And with a coy grin, Jonghyun looked back to where that streak of light had shot across the expanse and disappeared as quickly as it had come.

ORIGINAL

A Simple Tune: Anon Memes 26 August 2012

minsgunshot — Sun, 26 Aug 2012 10:23:24 GMT

For a prompt at seoulfulness.

A Simple Tune
Minhyun/Baekho
NU'EST
G

Minhyun would never bang on the keys; instead, he would press them carefully.

  That was the difference between the two of them.

  Before they met, Baekho had always wanted to be able to play the piano. He imagined it would be fun to enjoy a symphony created solely by him, to play something long and complicated that would have his fingers flying over the ebony and ivory with grandeur.

  But Minhyun's fingers rarely flew. He always began by playing a single note and allowing its sound to disappear on its own. Then he would press two at the same time, then three or four. Then he would truly begin to play, as if each interval was a melody in itself, as if he was giving each chord a time to shine before he gently pushed the next one into the spotlight.

  Then before Baekho knew it, Minhyun would lift his hands from the instrument, and the song would be over.

  And he would think that he no longer wished to learn. He merely wanted to listen, over and over again.

A/N: I told myself meme fics would only be posted to a comm after the op messaged back, but it never happened and a new post has been made... Forgive me my impatience. SO IF YOU'RE THAT ANON WITH THE PIANO PROMPT: This was for you, darlin'. :3 Hope you like it.

ORIGINAL

A Point of View

minsgunshot — Sun, 26 Aug 2012 10:11:31 GMT

Title: A Point of View
Fandom: NU'EST
Pairing: JR/Minhyun
Rating: G
Word Count:1765
Summary: The progression of Minhyun's rapper and JR's vocalist.

“Hwang Minhyun.”
“Kim Jonghyun.”

--

  They were awkward from the first time they met. The two boys would avoid each other, speaking only to exchange curt comments on their progress in the practice room or to ask if the other would pass the rice at mealtimes. They danced on opposite sides of the room and sat on opposite sides of the table.

  The older one was flashy. He was smaller, but had the spotlight on him as soon as he walked into the room. Every movement he made was a performance on its own. He was too cocky, Minhyun thought, acting as if the distance between their looks and skills was as large as the distance they kept between each other.

  The younger was aloof. He had his head in the clouds, yet girls giggled with their hands over their mouths when he walked by. He put himself above the rest of them, Jonghyun thought, with his height and his attitude. He sported his god-given talent the same way he sported his perfect, makeup-less face: as if he didn’t care.

--

“Hey… Nice job.”
“Yeah? You too.”

--

  The five of them began living in close quarters, but most of their time was spent in a room counting steps or repeating verse after verse. The two of them saw each other every day, slowly realizing that they had quickly turned from coworkers to teammates living under the same roof. And slowly, they began to watch each other, while the other wasn’t looking.

  Their choreographer favored Jonghyun, who got the dances the quickest, learning each move perfectly in quick succession. They would always run through it once together, but none of them could get it after that first time besides their leader. Minhyun would watch him, trying to get his own long limbs to move with the same precision and speed, but would end up slipping up, not sure if he was watching himself or JR more. In the end, the speakers would quiet and the choreographer would make her comments, pointing out their mistakes, though were her notes rarely for JR. Minhyun would glance at him, but he would simply be sipping water in the corner, facing the wall and moving his feet to some rhythm only he could hear as the music replayed in his head.

  Jonghyun tried to focus as much as possible to their music director, although he wasn’t paid nearly the same amount of attention. He learned the chorus and the melody, but he felt as if he was only filling up the seconds in the song; he rapped as coolly as possible, but it would quickly pass. Though he would never say anything, he found himself getting lost in the song when Minhyun did his part. They all would look a bit dazed when Minhyun sang; his voice was gentle, his tone rising and falling with ease. When the music started, he would voice a perfect melody with little effort, hardly even thinking. Their director would rap her pencil on her notebook, calling on JR, to get them all to snap out of it. Jonghyun would blush, embarrassed, and glance at Minhyun, who would always be looking down at his sheet music, not realizing the spell he had cast on the room.

--

  “You know, I think that you have the best aegyo…”
“Ah, you’re hilarious, aren’t you?”

--

  Their first album was released, and suddenly everything felt rushed. They had something to film at one studio, then a few more hours of practice before a performance at a different studio on the other side of Seoul. They promoted with tiny impromptu appearances in various places around the city and held fanmeets more and more often.

  The event coordinators would rush them into their seats at that long table as the line snaked around the corner, and a lot of the times the two of them would hardly notice they had been placed next to each other until they sat down.

  JR was cute; it was ridiculously undeniable. He would wave with both hands, puff up his cheeks, make a heart with his fingers and blow kisses through it. Anything to make the fans squeal behind their cameras, but Minhyun knew all he had to do was flash them a grin. His eyes would change completely, and the fierce dancer would transform into a slightly shy young man fumbling with the cap on his marker, his fiery rapping turning into sweet words aimed at every person who approached the table. Minhyun could feel it, the bubbliness. It kept spreading to him. He would feel compelled to scrunch up his face with a playful “Aing!”, and he caught himself doodling hearts and smiles and swirls on the things he signed. But JR would always have him beat. Minhyun got used to his fan service, so much so that he wondered if it was fan service at all. Minhyun would comment on this, telling JR how much it looked like he was enjoying the event after observing him for a while. Then the boy would turn to face him, still with that gigantic smile on his face, and for some reason, Minhyun would feel himself smiling back.

  Minhyun… was silly. There was no other way to put it. JR could say he was funny, but that wasn’t quite the word. His humor was strange, and when he performed his little acts and told his little jokes, JR and the fan he was addressing would either be laughing loudly with their heads thrown back or looking at him with a puzzled look on their faces. He would change voices and play with the balloons. Once he had almost attempted to juggle, but a coordinator put her hand on his arm before he could get any of the pens in the air, to Jonghyun and the fan’s disappointment. “Four-dimensional” he had heard some of his members put it, and before, Jonghyun would have agreed, but that wasn’t it. He was reaching out with something different than his voice. Everything he did was a deliberate way to entertain, to get some sort of reaction, and there were few times when he didn’t succeed. JR would flinch when he felt confetti being sprinkled on him or a weird accessory being placed atop his perfectly arranged hair, but would relax when he heard Minhyun’s quiet laughing. And when the taller boy arched his arm up to form part of a heart, JR would be quick to provide the second half.

--

“Yeah, but there’s no one who really listens to me, though… You know, except—”
“Of course, it’s me, right?”

--

When the five of them circled up for a quick break during practice, the two boys began to find themselves next to each other more and more frequently, their knees touching while they sat cross-legged. They elbows would bump when they walked side by side down hallways. Commentary meant to be heard by the group soon quieted down to things only one person standing close could hear. Soon they were whispering into each other’s ears, both of them leaning in even when it really wasn’t necessary.

  They would even stay up and pretend to be surprised when they met each other on some nights, alone, in their living room or kitchen.

  Jonghyun would lie, claiming he could only go to sleep when all of the members—including Minhyun—had already gone to bed, to ensure that everyone got their rest. ‘As the leader,’ were the words he would use, the same words uttered by their manager, by their CEO, by their choreographer, by producers and by senior groups. JR liked hearing those words, because he felt trusted, responsible… but Minhyun knew he was anxious. Always, always anxious, but he would never admit it openly. Minhyun had only guessed, from the way Jonghyun sighed in relief when practice ended well, the way he almost held his breath whenever they were being interviewed, the incredibly grateful look he gave when Minhyun got the dorm mostly clean. So eventually, he did talk about it, but he would do so quietly, as if he was selfish to confess all of his worries to the other person, with his long legs spread out underneath their small kitchen table, sitting across from him. But then JR would only be greeted with a soft expression; not one of annoyance or panic or patronizing sympathy, but one of a friend who understood. It would make his heart feel light and heavy at the same time, empty of worries but full from the satisfaction given by the fact that somebody cared.

  Minhyun liked to listen; it was when it was his turn to contribute that he felt a little off. He didn’t want to push his burdens onto anyone, especially JR, but the older boy would nudge and prod playfully until he said the things he thought would never pass his lips, the feelings and thoughts he had filed away that he never believed were that interesting. Although, the way Jonghyun leaned in when he spoke often made him think otherwise. Minhyun confessed everything, from his childhood memories to his wildest dreams. He had aspirations as a growing artist; he had doubts about their future in a harsh industry. Whatever he had thought would be ridiculous to say to any person, he said it anyway, because Jonghyun wanted to hear all of it. It would make Minhyun blush, the way JR would respond to even the simplest things he revealed. His reactions seemed almost exaggerated, but it was even more embarrassing when he realized that the other boy sincerely believed he was deeply involved in Minhyun’s life simply by hearing what he had to say. So Minhyun discovered, through a smiling kid with studs in his ears and hair in his face, that he also liked to be listened to.

--

“Someone who knows enough about me… who understands and accepts me. What about you, what do you think?”
“Something I like in a person? Like, an ideal type? I… I guess someone similar to yours.”

--

  Soon interviews weren’t as much of a problem. All five of them began to lose their awkwardness in front of the camera, tried to speak clearly and look as relaxed as possible. So when this question—a simple question with an easily rehearsed answer—was asked, they would take only a few seconds, pretending to contemplate.

  During those few seconds, JR would glance at Minhyun.

  And Minhyun would glance at JR.

And they both know their answer.

A/N: Wow, sorry about that "summary" at the beginning... ~~and as long as I'm apologizing... that ending, too...~~ Thank you for reading, if you got this far, you honestly have no idea how much I wrestled with this fic, argh.