EclecticRose
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“I’m sorry, Jisungie. I wish hyung could fix it,” Minho placates. That’s another thing their friends constantly make fun of him for – always coming to Jisung’s rescue. When Jisung has a problem, Minho fixes it.
Suddenly, Jisung sits up, looking at Minho with something unreadable in his eyes. Minho’s hand falls out of his hair and into Jisung’s lap instead. It’s warm.
“Hyung,” Jisung says very seriously. He scoops Minho’s hand up in both of his own. Minho has always loved the fact that here, only here, Jisung is bigger than him. He noticed it for the first time in high school, when Jisung was pulling him through a crowd after a concert. Minho is taller than him, and broader, but something about holding Jisung’s hand makes him feel small. Taken care of. “What if you could?”
Minho blinks once. Twice. Three times. Jisung stares down at him, waiting for him to process. When Minho can’t possibly think of how he could be assistance, he asks “what do you mean?”
“Fuck me,” Jisung says simply.
Bookmarked by EclecticRose
18 Jul 2026
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They met when they were kids. He was so exhilarated to be understood, to have connected some loose circuitry and finally feel his energy flowing like it was supposed to. He never thought about that feeling, bright and alive with electricity, safe and complete, as something that could be romantic.
He truly never thought about it. Jisung was one thing, so he probably wasn’t another.
But he was wrong. Jisung has always been everything he could be, everything at once. A chameleon, a many-limbed cephalopod, a jack of all trades, a genius. Minho’s best friend, his longest companion, his greatest source of annoyance, of anxiety. His family, his dongsaeng. And now, the focal point of his desire.
Of course. Of course if anyone could push and pull at Minho’s emotions, his subconscious, his sex drive, it would be clever, oblivious, determined Jisung.
When Jisung announces that his male TA wants to date him, Minho nosedives into an obsessive spiral. He can't fight his own jealousy, the dense tangle of his repressed desire, or the increasing awareness that maybe they've been more than friends all along.
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Bookmarked by EclecticRose
17 Jul 2026
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“I—you don’t have such tales in the palace? When a handkerchief goes missing, or a brew you’ve worked on diligently goes awry? It’s the work of a trickster.”
Chan raises his eyebrows. “Like a god? Doesn’t he have a name?”
“Well, sure,” Jeongin says—is the trickster his parents told him about really nothing more than some backwater, podunk wives’ tale? “But we don’t know it. A name is a powerful thing; it has the capacity to control, and a trickster isn’t going to just give it out.”
That's the thing about attracting the favor of a trickster, is that they are inherently tricky. It's in the name—and Jeongin and Chan can't work out the name of the trickster trying to break them apart.
Bookmarked by EclecticRose
01 Jul 2026
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The sound of Jisung's door banging open violently startles him from sleep.
"Wha—but I didn't do anything," he blabbers nonsensically, unable to comprehend whether he's conscious or still dreaming, heart pounding against his rib cage. As his eyes adjust to the light spilling into his room, he registers the unmistakeable silhouette of Minho looming eerily in his open doorway like a horror antagonist that just found its next victim.
"Jisung-ah," the shape announces, deadly serious. "Pack your things. We're moving."
—
or: Minho, Jisung, and Richard go into battle. Nobody overreacts about anything.
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Bookmarked by EclecticRose
08 Jun 2026