foxfireflamequeen
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- Words:
- 295,300
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 5
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Summary
'"Can you talk?" Chan tries, weakly, and Minho can only let out a helpless, voiceless sob. He shakes his head, and then drops it down between his knees, gripping at his hair.
It hurts. His throat hurts so bad, and he doesn't know why, doesn't know how to fix it.
"Oh, Min," Chan breathes, reaching out - but Minho swats his hand away, shaking his head. He's sick he can't get Channie sick, too.'
Or, Minho gets sick, and it gets worse from there.
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Tags
Summary
Jisung didn’t mean to procrastinate, but he didn’t think that all the clubs would be full in just a week. He sighed, seeing that only one club still had availability.
Too bad he didn’t know shit about chess.
Or what happens when Jisung, captain of the college soccer team, meets Minho, the number 2 ranked chess player in the country.
Series
- Part 1 of Endgame Series
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Tags
Summary
It's just Jisung and his suitcase, and Minho. Broader and older and more beautiful, leaning against the wall opposite him. The sight of him stops Jisung in his tracks.
It’s Minho, with his marble carved nose and high cheekbones, eyes dark and pretty and trained on him. Minho, with his oversized cardigans, still fond of sweater paws and pastel colours. Minho, with tousled dark hair and rosebud lips and that small shy smile that used to make Jisung stumble over his feet because he couldn’t stop staring.
Minho, who still feels like home even when he shouldn’t, and Jisung, who’s body moves on instinct, running and slamming into him.
It’s calm, quiet. Passersby don’t spare them a glance, airport reunions unworthy of their time. No screaming, no panic, nothing. Just Jisung, his suitcase abandoned behind him, and Minho, who’s hugs still smell like strawberry body wash and drugstore perfume.OR
Jisung and Minho split up years ago, and Jisung has since risen to fame. When everything gets to be too much, he calls the one person he could always rely on.
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- Words:
- 138,448
- Works:
- 3
- Bookmarks:
- 49