SynSadie
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He stands and watches Jisung while coach rambles on about their week. Shit-eating grin, deceptively round cheeks, lightning in his eyes. Minho knows the type, he’s been in the game long enough. Cocksure asshole, boiling over with his own ego, toxic masculinity to boot.
Minho hates him, he doesn’t need to be proven right by talking to Jisung, he knows he hates him by the way Jisung smacks fists with Jeongin, thumps him on the back when they break to start practice.
“I hear he’s gunning for your limelight,” Changbin hooks Minho over the neck with a strong arm, heading down the field. “Better watch out.”
Minho scoffs. “Fat fucking chance. I’d like to see him try.”
(OR: Hotshot quarterback Minho hates cocky transfer player Jisung, but he hates losing more.)
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Bookmarked by SynSadie
14 Jun 2025
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“Listen carefully, Felix,” he whispers, panic causing his voice to waver. “There is a man in your house. He has big muscles and big tattoos and I think he probably has a gun. He looks like he’d have a gun, Lix. You're being burglarized!”
“Wha— Jisung, first of all, why would you call me and not the police if you thought there was a break in?” Felix asks, completely undisturbed by Jisung’s impending death. “And second, is one of the tattoos a stork? On his neck?”
“I- yes. How did you know that?”
“Jisung. That’s my brother.”
(OR: Felix asks Jisung to babysit his brother for the summer. Jisung agrees, painfully unaware that the brother in question is a full-grown criminal straight out of his dirtiest wet-dreams.)
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Bookmarked by SynSadie
07 May 2025
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Jisung leans his head back, lazy. Like he can’t be bothered to pick it up. Like it’s too heavy, or he’s too sleepy. “Do you think it would fuck everything up if we slept together for real?”
“Everything,” Minho says, not quite a question, but not understanding. A general repetition for the benefit of the both of them. Because his throat hurts a little bit, and he needs a second to swallow it down.
He brings his hand back to steering. Both of them right where they’re meant to be.
“Everything, like— us,” Jisung waves his finger between them. “You’re my best friend. And I’m yours. And I’ve always wondered, you know?”
Minho is white knuckling the wheel. He can still feel Jisung beneath his fingertips, or maybe just within his bloodstream. Injected there to sit. Stay.
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Bookmarked by SynSadie
05 May 2025
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It turns out, Jisung is really fucking good at kickball. He’s fast as fuck. Quickly rose up through the ranks to become first pick every game. A badge he wears with honor. Or, wore with honor.
Because he’s been dethroned. In his own domain.
Plucked from the heavens by a pair of well-muscled, thick thighs. Amongst his own peers. His closest friends. His community!
Lee Minho came and ruined it all. Because he’s an evil, evil man, with big, thick, strong thighs.
(OR: Minho dethrones Jisung as best in the gay recreational kickball league, and Jisung totally doesn't want to fuck him about it)
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Bookmarked by SynSadie
05 May 2025
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From closer, it’s clear that Minho is about his age. He’s handsome— very much so— in an untouchable sort of way. Straight nose, sharp eyes, a defined cupid’s bow. He looks sculpted rather than born. Jisung might shrink under the weight of his presence if the situation were different.
Knowing that Minho is dying ruins the illusion of perfection.
Jisung answers an ad online reading: "I'm going to die, but there's a lot of things I haven't done yet that I don't want to do alone."
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Bookmarked by SynSadie
03 May 2025