yuneui
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Felix is his- worship, mind, heart- day and night, everything in between- Hyunjin doesn’t need to fuck him to know- Hyunjin certainly won’t let it fly the other way round-
They aren’t in love, it’s diminishing, it’s dismissive, it’s-
(OR: folie à deux; mutual obsession)
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“You don’t need to be in love with someone to sleep with someone,” Felix points out.
“But you know what kind of guy Hyunjin is, right?” Seungmin eyes him doubtfully through his fringe of two-toned hair. “He’s a romantic. He feels very deeply. If he sleeps with someone, it’s not a fluke. It’s because he wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”
(OR: Felix asks Hyunjin to be his first time.)
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There was something wrong with himself, Felix thought. There was something wrong with all of them.
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Gyuvin is different on that point. He needs to think things through, carefully. Consider all options. It’s the only way he stays sane. Gyuvin is calm, and cool-headed. Ricky makes decisions fleeting and decisive.
Impulse nights out with Hao, tangled around each other at some bar. For Hao, it’s some weird kind of jealousy foreplay whilst Hanbin scowls in the corner. For Ricky, it’s a prelude to another impulse- hookups.
Gyuvin hates those the most. It’s beyond grating. It’s clawing, like his heart is being dragged bloody across shattered glass. He doesn’t know how to put that into words, exactly. If Ricky asked, he’s sure he could find a way.
(OR: Gyuvin is in love, and Ricky is impulsive.)
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Minho wants to turn to Jisung and tell him they aren’t good enough for him. The older girls that Jisung favours with sharp, cat-like eyes and stinging tongues, wit skating the edge of cruelty. The ones that Minho never liked, and that never liked Minho, and all Jisung would do was shrug and say, You’re too alike.
Maybe Jisung is a sadist. Maybe he likes seeing Minho hurt like this. Twist his mind into knots just for his yes.
(OR: Jisung has always been it, for Minho.)
Recent bookmarks
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Jisung worked in a braid, in an internal logic so convoluted and method-driven that Minho was always fucking guessing—second-guessing. And when taking his last clinching statistics, the shit exploded into blood, with Jisung grinning at the centre.
Minho and Jisung are dealers of the Borderland death games. It's worse when teamwork itself is a gamble.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 21,375
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 4
- Kudos:
- 34
- Bookmarks:
- 9
- Hits:
- 664
Bookmarked by yuneui
06 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
so incredibly underrated, style, dynamic, premise all perfect
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“Hyung.”
Minho kissed him again. Once. Twice. Soft and wet, dew on a rose. “Hm?”
“This won’t change things, right?”
“No, jagiya,” Minho said. “This won’t change anything, not for me.”
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Sometimes, the weather in Seoul gets so hot that the sidewalk starts to sizzle. When he’d been a little kid, Changbin had touched his bare, open palms to the ground out of curiosity and screamed when they blistered, so loudly that even strangers had come running.
Sin results in death. Eternal damnation. A million, scorching sidewalks.
(Or: Changbin's new flatmate is gay. And Changbin isn't. He can't be.)
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Acids and Baser Urges by edgar_essa_and_filip
Fandoms: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
24 Apr 2024
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Sometimes violence is really the only way to get what you want.
Bookmarked by yuneui
27 Jun 2026
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“What,” Chairman Lee huffs, looking between the two of them with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You two are dating, aren’t you? That’s why Minho won’t go on any of these blind dates?”
Before Minho can respond to that, Seungmin cuts in. “With all due respect, Chairman, I’m not gay.” His gaze flicks over to Minho, and Minho catches just the faintest glint of mirth in his eyes before Seungmin opens his big mouth again. “And if I was, the president would not be my type at all.”