jongkey, angst, pg
jongkey, gen, pgwhen you’re not even 22 and already shouldering a middle-aged man’s workload you don’t have the energy to be a psychologistdependency
jongkey, angst, pg-15and I'm sobbing and sobbingsimplicity
jongkey, fluff, pgkim kibum had long ago learned to think about people in terms of what they wanted from you and what you wanted from themdrop dead gorgeous
jongkey, songfic, pg-13yeah yeah but he's drop dead gorgeouscooking? cooking!
jongkey, humor, pg-13, requesthaving sex with kitchen utensilsstockholm
jongkey, horror, ris it funny?le petit prince
jongkey, children's story, gonce upon a time there was a prince named kim kibumwords
joondoong, gen, gchangsun likes to hear himself talkduplicate
joondoong, au, r, character death (except not for good)they always show up at the same timeoh my god
g.o-centric, joondoong, humor, gthey live in g.o's moustachepress play
seungmir, romance, rthis is how the story goesmulti-chaptered storiesjongkey x 2min x keyho x jonghyuk, au, pg-13/nc-17, completed1. fuck yeah man, fuck yeah2. you're welcome, fucker3. there was nothing wrong with exploring your sexuality but there were minors involved here, you fucking pedophile4. who the hell has a ribcage fetish, you cannibalistic fuck5. hopefully he wouldn't sober up in the middle 'cause that would fucking suck6. who the fuck are you to be hurt by this, cocksucker7. your dick smells like statutory rape8. fuck you Hongki and your 5 minute knockout vodka double shots9. fucking kid probably liked sucking on glue sticks (and cock) in his spare timedrabblesjongkey, fluff, g, 56 words3 in the morningit's all in your head
seungmir, gen, pgbut how do you know for sure?other writings (not fandom related)three o'clockstory about a girl and a boymemoireo1. o2. o3.sk_robots
+ o1 joondoong, nc17
+ o2 seungmir, pg13sk_crime
: underworld au playground
It's endearing, really, and there's no other word she can think of to describe it. His hands are small, tiny actually (for a man's), and it's endearing how he tangles those short fingers with hers, keeping them entwined while his breathing evens out next to her.
She's only just met him, but this the first time someone's held her hand like this, as they lay sleeping side to side, chest to back. The back of his hand is discolored, skin replacing skin, and those slight fingers had lingered as they traced the inside of her thigh (showing her exactly where it had come from, this piece of him).
And this is what she wants to remember of him. Not the way his breath reeks of soju when he shows up in the middle of the night, bleary eyed and unreasonable; not the way he avoids her questions (and her kisses) when she gets too close; not the way he ignores her calls, and messages, and feelings.
(Because god forbid they actually like each other.)
But she doesn't know anything about that yet.
All she knows is that this guy doesn't walk out the next morning (leaving behind cold sheets and a cold heart) and that his lips are smooth against the curve of her shoulder. So this is what she wants to hold onto (for as long as she possibly can).
What they don't tell you about Seoul is that it's worse than L.A. Everyone's trying to become an actor, a singer, a somebody. Everyone knows someone who knows someone, and it's not very hard to know someone too.(Poor her.)
What they also don't tell you about Seoul is that the men are immature, selfish, and ridiculously charismatic. For every act of chivalry, I will show you 5 acts of jackassery, 3 drunken phone calls, and 1 girl who just doesn't understand.
I said this was a love story, but you shouldn't believe a word I say. (With all the bullshit in this country, who can tell what's "real" anyways?) This isn't a love story, and it sure as hell isn't a happy ending.
It just is what it is, and isn't that enough? (Don't answer that.)
3 orders of meokgeolli, 2 beers, and 1 half-finished bottle of wine. So much alcohol in your system that you can barely see straight, much less walk it (though I guess that's not really necessary when he's already guiding you into a taxi headed back to your apartment, back to your bed). He seems charming, probably because you can only understand half of what he's saying, and all that awkwardness you shared before has been pissed away (along with most of the water that was stored in your body).
One night stands aren't included in your usual repertoire of vices, but neither are effeminate music producers-slash-singers-slash-composers. And besides, you only live once (so what the hell).
This is the beginning of a love story. (Or as close as you're going to get.)
so apparently I never made an official post announcing my hiatus; my apologies for that. I moved to Korea around 6 months ago and haven't felt like writing since stepping off of the plane. nowadays all I do is blog, and I probably won't be writing for a very long time.
for everyone who's been adding me for my writing, thank you thank you for your interest! I'm surprised that people are still reading my stuff, despite how long it's been. I'm sorry that there will be nothing new from me, and I'm also sorry that some things are left very much unfinished.
"Yes, but how do you know for sure, hyung?"
Seungho sighs, because Chulyong's been drinking, and incessant and obnoxious questions are the first thing that comes with Chulyong drinking.
"I just do, okay? I just do." His fingers are at the bridge of his nose, nursing a migraine that may or may not be forming, and this is a very obvious signal that this line of questioning needs to end (now).
Of course, the younger boy doesn't take the hint, and maybe he's trying to be a brat or maybe he just doesn't catch it (since he doesn't exactly know how to communicate like 'normal people'), but this time he creeps even closer, his eyes wide and suspicious. "How can you be sure I'm not just a figment of your imagination, a schizophrenic delusion?"
Seungho doesn't bother sighing again; he can recognize a useless waste of energy when he sees it. So he just shifts a bit as the other boy settles against his thighs (and this is the second thing that comes with Chulyong drinking).
"Because if this really were the work of my imagination, I certainly wouldn't have created you."
changsun likes to hear himself talk. (this much is obvious.) he likes to hear himself talk and he likes having others hear him talk even more. if there's a choice between speaking and not speaking he'll sift through his thoughts and his confusions with the workings of his mouth. he usually makes no sense (but he's not supposed to).
he's an idol. he's funny.
this is how he makes a living.
sanghyun makes a living by being tall and looking pretty. he doesn't need to talk (and maybe he shouldn't). that's why changsun likes him. because there are no concerns about the combination of their words gathering in the space between them; filling and crowding and pushing until they're forced to drop to the ground at their feet, words and phrases and syllables falling like tiny shards of glass.
changsun can just throw out whatever he likes with that casual tongue of his and sanghyun will catch them all and tuck them away in his pockets.
sometimes changsun says 'i love you'.
sanghyun catches those too.
Sometimes I wonder if people question my blatant disregard for some grammar or language rules. Like, maybe they think I'm making all these errors because I'm just not good at English. Truthfully, I know which rules I break for the sake of style. I don't do this so much anymore, but with a lot of my fics I didn't use commas, even with clauses that needed them, because I felt like commas inserted spaces and pauses in my sentences that broke up the flow.
I can think of a few textual examples of subtle things I tried to do, which are not really related to grammar ( and which I probably failed atCollapse )
I suspect that all writers insert these cute little things and I probably miss all of them when I read.
Toes curled against legs, eyes crinkled at corners, warm breath against lips, ears waiting for wonders. Secrets pressed against pillows and hands pressed against hearts.
Fingers walk over landscapes of sleepy murmurs and smiles, sunlight dances over miles of bare skin and rain showers. It tastes like warm sheets, soft giggles, (and you).
Shy lips and happy endings let’s stay here forever. (Dawn’s winding down, wake up, it'll only get better.)
3 in the morning lips pressed against your neck, chest tucked against your back. (Kibum-ah, Kibum-ah, so pretty when you sleep.) More kisses against your neck, warm arms around your waist. (Jonghyun-ah, Jonghyun-ah, so silly when you play.) 3 in the morning one last kiss before he leaves (goodnight, goodnight, I'll see you when you wake).
There's this story about a girl and a boy. They had been best friends since their first year of college, when the girl had followed the boy into his dorm room and just hadn't left. And even though they had had a rocky start, they soon grew to be impossibly close. The boy could tell what the girl was feeling based on how fast she shredded a plastic wrapper and the girl could see the loneliness behind the boy's apathetic words and indifferent shrugs.
The boy left for Japan during their third year. He was gone for an entire year and the girl cried and cried and cried because she missed him so much. But when she was at her worst the girl could still text him at 6 in the morning and the boy would be on skype 20 minutes later, just for her. When the boy finally came back the girl was so happy she insisted on meeting him right away and they picked up right where they had left off.
One day the boy told the girl he was in love with her. And because the boy was in love with her, he could no longer be her friend. In fact, he could no longer be anywhere near her because it hurt too much. So he just left the girl's life and the girl just let him go because she didn't want the boy to hurt anymore and she knew she couldn't give him what he wanted. The girl tried to contact him two more times after that, one time a month later and the other ten months later, but the boy seemed resolute in his decision to never speak to her again.
There's this story about a girl and a boy. And it doesn't really have an ending. Soon the boy leaves for law school in New York and the girl leaves to become a teacher in Korea, and they just end up forgetting about each other.
Also, I take requests/prompts. But I can't promise they'll be fulfilled. Or happy (if they are fulfilled). Or not going to have other pairings. Or not going to be broken up. And I can't even begin to predict what style they'd be in. But, yeah :D
At three o’clock in the morning everything takes on an unbearable stillness.
A clock ticking on the wall
water dripping from a faucet
an indrawn breath
You didn’t come home last night. or the night before. or the night before.
Hey, are you okay?
I’m still functioning, aren’t I?
Can perpetual silence lead to deafness?
The sheets are cold, but I don’t turn on the heat. I think I’m starting to get used to it.
Can perpetual silence lead to death(ness)?
You speak without words, you linger without memories, you exist without form.
I dreamt about you last night
it was nothing special
you were just there
I have not written anything in years. And when I used to write slash fics it was in a fandom totally unrelated to Kpop. Frickin' Hello Baby made me a Jongkey shipper and I couldn't resist old habits.( oneCollapse )