#minho oneshots

[ruerecs]

i finally watched the maze runner series and was wanting to know if the fandom was still alive? and if you want i’m wanting to start writing fics

#the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner oneshots #thomas #thomas x reader #minho #minho x reader #minho oneshots #thomas oneshots #x reader #oneshots #imagines #fanfics #the maze runner imagines #the maze runner fanfics #ruewrote

[thewonandonly]

save your tears — lee minho

bully!minho (stray kids) x afab!reader

genre ;; angst, fluff

word count ;; 13,375 words

warnings ;; high school!au, friends-to-enemies-to-lovers!au, cliché themes, strong language, slice of life(?), mentions of bullying (physical and emotional), ooc!chaeryeong, chaeryeong has a bit of ocd, anxiety mention, depersonalization, anaphylactic shock mention (fish), kick to the jaw (assault), reader has both parents, mother mention, principal/headmaster visit, tense family relationship.

playlist: spotify

Lee Minho. He’s the most popular boy in school: he’s as smart as a whip, as funny as a bumblebee and handsome as if Aphrodite sculpted him from clay herself. Minho had friends all over the school, in different grades and status. The teachers loved him, his peers loved him. Except one — except you. Minho and you have been in the same class since before you two could walk. Once upon a time, you used to be best friends, living in the same neighborhood and playing in the dirt while you chased him with a worm you plucked out. But his interests didn't align with your own anymore and you both drifted apart.

The geeky kid who used to wear thick framed glasses and was deathly afraid of worms and other insects didn't exist anymore. He switched to contacts, around middle school. and he could hold a ladybug, no problem, even chasing the other girls in the class with them. You still remember seeing that sight and feeling left out by him.

By the time the two of you were in high school, the wavelength was completely off — Minho hung out with a big, popular circle, the crowd everyone wanted to be apart of. and you hung out by yourself. With two or three of your friends you made in middle school. You missed him being your right-hand man and vice versa. But, what you missed even more than having him around, was him treating you like any normal person. When he saw you in the hallway, he’d either do three things: 1) he’d stare you down with the blandest look on his face until you got uncomfortable and stared down at your feet, this usually happens if he’s too far away to do anything physical. 2) he’d give you a flat tire, and watch you stumble at the pressure on the back of your shoe. This normally happens when there’s a lot of people around. He’d always give a half-assed smile and apology that you knew wasn’t real. 3) If it was just him and his friends in the hallway, he’d trip you, especially if you have books or you're looking down at your phone. It was something that always made him and a select few of his friends burst out laugh. Because of the stone glossed floor, you’d often get a friction burn, leaving you to return to the nurse’s office characteristically for the sixth time that week. How’d this happen, the male nurse would ask you as he applied anti-inflammatory cream to the burn, and there was always a voice in the back of your head, whispering, he’s only doing this to make his friend’s laugh. And, you believed it. And you’d come up with a totally unbelievable lie, such as “I tripped over my shoelace.” When the white shoelaces were completely clean, or “I tripped over air.” When clumsiness wasn’t something you were plagued with. And the nurse believed you.

You’d find yourself making up pathetic excuses for Minho, when you knew those weren’t the case. Minho would purposefully turn up the heat on your Bunsen burner, so the chemical goes spilling over, or he’s adding an extra five minutes to your egg timer in Home Ec, so the eggs burn. Or, he distracts the teacher to steal your scantron and throw your answers in the trash for a math test. You’d tell yourself, “I accidentally hit the valve,” or, “I accidentally turned up the timer,” or, “It must’ve slipped out.” You’d even relayed those excuses onto your teachers. Something inside you told you that if you keep making these excuses, maybe Minho would return to your side, he’d see how loyal you were and he’d be your best friend again.

The Winter Ball was approaching, and fast. On December 31, the ball would extend past midnight to New Years Day. It was a popular event at your school, one that your classmates prepared months before the day actually came. Girls would reserve their dresses, testing out different foundation and setting powder or spray for the longest wear time, that they could wear from 5:30pm to midnight. Boys reserved their tuxedos and made plans for transportation long before. Couples already decided the matching colors and the corsage and boutonniere to match one another, to recognize one another in a crowd. Single folks often attended, some even finding a date halfway through the night to share a New Year’s kiss. Couples were on the ballots for Winter Court, the equivalent of Prom Queen and Prom King, as well as a write-in area, where you can write in your friends name as a joke. You were excited, you already had a wonderful dress reserved just at the last minute, and your new driver’s license would come in handy at such a time.

Standing in the hallway, you pinned up a Winter Ball poster, smiling at it softly. Being in charge of Winter Ball preparations and advertisement definitely had it’s perks. Sitting on the collapsable chair, you placed out the clipboards with the ballots along them. Submitting your ballots was always encouraged, but they were still able to do it at the ball whenever they wanted, so long as it wasn’t past midnight.

You nodded, standing from the metal chair, “I thought doing something other than adding fake snow everywhere would be better for everyone.” You chuckled softly.

Chaeryeong was your friend that you met in middle school. You both bonded over how much you despised your math teacher that year, and instantly became friends. She was bubbly, and damn near perfect. It was amazing how she decided to go to Winter Ball alone despite all the others asking her out. If you recall, her response was, “I want to enjoy my night with my friend.” Before she connected her arm with yours and walked you both off to the gym where you, her and six others helped to raise the giant christmas tree you got.

Chaeryeong was your friend that you met in middle school. You both bonded over how much you despised your math teacher that year, and instantly became friends. She was bubbly, and damn near perfect. It was amazing how she decided to go to Winter Ball alone despite all the others asking her out. If you recall, her response was, “I want to enjoy my night with my friend.” Before she connected her arm with yours and walked you both off to the gym where you, her and six others helped to raise the giant christmas tree you got.

“Need any help?” She grabbed a pen and began to scribble down a coiled mark next to a couple’s name, “I can flag people down here.” Placing the pen back in the holder, she folded the page and passed it to you.

“If you’d like to help, that would be appreciated.” You smiled, dropping the ballot into the giant red box beside your seat. “Heaven knows I need it.”

“I got you!” She wrapped her hands around her bags strap and dashed down the hallway, yelling something along the lines of, “Submit your ballots for Winter Ball by the North Entrance.”

Smiling softly, you silently wondered how she didn’t bite her tongue while running. Sitting back down on the seat, you greeted all who submitted a ballot, noticing some even voting for or writing in themself. And when they’d pass you the ballot to drop in the box, you’d pass them a candy cane, bidding them a good day, seeing them smile as they began to suck on it.

You sat there for the remainder of the morning, packing everything back up and hurrying to class once the warning bell rang. You pushed open the door and sat in the classroom for the next three hours, absorbing the information like a sponge.

Lunch arrived quickly. The hallway filled with students, many walking one way or the other.

“Chaeryeong!” You waved to your friend, who stopped in front of you with a bag thrown over her shoulder, “Ready for lunch?”

She nodded, “Yup.” Chaeryeong wrapped her arm with yours, “I hope we get there before the rush.”

“Me too. I really want some of that salad.” You rubbed your stomach, opening the cafeteria doors for your friend and yourself. There was a strong tension in the air — as there was every lunch. The “battlefield” was split in two: Popular folks on one end and the regular folks on the other.

Chaeryeong guided you over to a table by the doors, “What would you define as a popular person?” She mumbled, setting her bag on the table.

You sat there for a moment, digging through your bag to find your wallet, “Someone who's well known. Reputation doesn't matter. Bad publicity is still publicity.” The response was one you thought of a lot. “Although, I don't understand why someone would want to be popular in school. All of that falls away after graduation.” You shrugged, pulling the wallet out, “Found it.” You nodded to Chaeryeong and walked towards the line for lunch.

The doors opened beside your bag and Minho strolled in — Changbin, and Jisung in tow. It was like time stopped inside of the cafeteria while time continued to tick on the outside.

“Here comes those bastards.” Chaeryeong whispered, leaning against the wall as she picked at the chipped nail polish on her fingernails.

Nodding stiffly, you watched them as they walked across the room and sat at the table they regularly sat at. Minho sat beside Irene, his girlfriend for four months — who also happened to be one of your best friends in the past — and kissed her cheek, a goofy smile crossing his lips. And you couldn't help the small smile that stretched your lips once you saw his silly one, looking away.

Chaeryeong looked at you, “Are you okay? What are you smiling at?”

Really, there wasn't anything wrong with wanting your ex-best friend to be happy after your crazy adventures come to a stop, and you wanted to say so, but all that got past your lips was “Thought of something funny.” Chaeryeong and you grabbed your lunches, much to your dismay, the salads were all gone, so you grabbed something small — a chicken burger. When the lunch lady rang you up, and you both paid, you returned to your table, sitting down.

On what, you asked yourself. Standing up, you noticed the entire back of your skirt covered in chocolate, a crushed brownie on the seat. You went red in the cheeks, dizzy in the head.

“What? What’s wrong?” Chaeryeong leaned across and looked at the seat, gasping, “They put an entire lava cake brownie on your seat!”

You quaked, “Chaeryeong, do you have a coat I can borrow?” Your teeth were clenched.

As much as you made excuses for your former friend, it was nerve wracking for it to happen so often.

Chaeryeong pulled out a blue sweater, and you quickly tied it around your waist, “I’ll be back.” You mumbled and walked out of the cafeteria, your eyes glancing back at Minho across the room, watching everything happening.

You gave him a blunt smile, and stalked your way to the office. Pushing open the door, you shyly asked for a new skirt to replace the one you had on.

The receptionist was always kind, and she pulled out a replacement skirt, “What happened to the one you’re wearing now?” She asked sweetly.

No more excuses, you thought to yourself, It's time to stand up for yourself, clearing your throat, you shrugged, “Lee Minho. He’s been tormenting me for years.”

“Is that so? Lee Minho is always so sweet. It couldn't be him.” The receptionist shrugged as she typed away on the computer, “Are you sure it isn't someone else? You know, boys are mean to girls they like. It couldn't be Lee Minho, do you have any proof?”

You stood there, gaping: Proof? Other than the last four years of my life? Opening your wallet in a huff, you grumbled out a “how much is it?” Only for the receptionist to pass a receipt across the counter and advise you to visit the bookkeeper — who was all the way on the other side of campus.

Holding in a groan until you exit the office, you go to the restroom and quickly change your skirt, wincing at the brownie staining the fabric of your other. You take a look in the mirror, wetting a paper towel and clean off as much as you can of the brownie on the back of your thighs.

You took a moment to look yourself in the mirror. As much as you loved Minho, he was like a brother to you, this was a breach of your brother-from-another-mother, sister-from-another-mister contract. Sure, brothers prank their sisters, but was it really this bad? Wasn't this just hatred? You felt your eyes water as you looked at yourself deeper. There was cinched hair from the time Minho turned on the Bunsen burner without you knowing — that was a dark day. Emotional turmoil from all the teacher visits and calls, meaning your mother would corner you and ask why your grades were so bad. Your legs were bruised and tattered to how often you were tripped. You had stitches on your chin from the one time you busted said chin from being tripped. No one except Chaeryeong visited.

By the time you finished examining yourself in the mirror, you hated yourself too. The girl you knew would've been brave and told Minho what she actually thought, what she actually wanted to say. But, you’ve curled back into a shell, one you didn't know you had. Irene had left Chaeryeong and you, who’s to say Chaeryeong wouldn't leave you either?

Folding the skirt with a sniff and throwing the jacket over your arm, you headed towards the bookkeeper, paying the 15 dollars for the skirt and back to the cafeteria. There was a whisper among the air and you felt out of place.

Chaeryeong squatted on the ground, wiping the seat off with a napkin, “Welcome back.” She smiled.

“Hi.” You nodded, “I’ll wash this for you.” You lifted the coat, swinging it.

“Alright.” She hummed, “How much was the skirt?”

“15 dollars.” You sat on the seat beside the chocolate violated seat, digging in your backpack to pull out a piece of paper.

“That makes it one… hundred and 3 dollars, 65 cents.” She nodded.

Normally, keeping track of your expenses wasn't something you did — you didn't take money as seriously as you should — but the list you had was all from that month. With how often these pranks frequent, you decided to keep track of all the expenses that you spend and lose, considering you get paid once every two weeks. And when you and Minho get close again, you’d hang this debt over his head for however long it takes him to pay it off, either through payment or deeds.

“Do you know how much it would be as a total?” You tapped the pen against your chin.

Chaeryeong looked up, thinking for a moment. You could see the gears grind in her head as she calculated the difference, “In the last four years, five hundred 36 dollars and 12 cents.”

You clicked your tongue and scribbled the total. “He’s going over the average this month.” You clicked the pen closed and put the paper back into it’s safe space. “Ah, I don't even want to eat now. Who knows what they did while I was away?”

“They didn't do anything. You should eat.” She threw away the napkin, grabbed another and applied water to scrub it, “It's not like I’d let them do anything anyhow.”

“Thank you.” You ignored the feeling in your gut and pulled your tray towards yourself and began to eat the burger, a mouthful of seafood filling your nose. You spit the food out, and gaped, “There's fish in this.”

“Huh?”

“There's fish in my burger. My chicken burger.” You wiped your hands on your own napkin, “I thought you said they didn't do anything to my food.”

“They didn't.”

“How long have you been cleaning?” You looked at her, “Did you leave at all?” You questioned Chaeryeong, who sat on her knees as she began to scritch at the brownie in the crevices of the seat.

“Well,” she began, “Ever since you left the seat, I started cleaning it. And I only left to get napkins. But it's right there!” She defended herself, pointing at the despenser. “I didn't see them at all!”

“Chaeryeong.” You groaned, “Did you turn away from the table at any point?”

“Some of the napkins got stuck so I turned around for a second but I turned right back!”

You curled your fingers into your hair, pushing the meal away, “Great. Now my lunch is ruined, I lost 18 dollars today.” You grabbed the slip of paper again, scribbling down the added 3 dollars.

Chaeryeong looked down, “I’m sorry. I really tried to watch it.”

You turned towards her, shaking your head, “No. It's not your fault. If they just acted like decent people, this wouldn't have happened.” You patted her head, “I know how you get with cleaning.” You smiled at her, “I think the school should start paying you instead of the janitor.”

“They should, shouldn't they?”

The long, and very traumatic, lunch ended and you grabbed your bag, “Come on. Let's go to class.” You gripped the tray and threw the trash away. Your hands felt numb, so you buried them under your shirt, tugging at your collar, “It's hot.”

“Are you kidding? It's 32 degrees out.” She shivered, “How are you hot?” Chaeryeong looked over at you, “Hey, Y/N, you’re sweating like crazy. Are you okay?”

“Fine.” You wheezed, “I feel fine.”

Chaeryeong stood there for a second, before her face dropped, “Oh, shit.” She whispered.

It felt like air was becoming scarce. Like you have to be careful with every breath you take. You had cottonmouth, and it was hard to swallow. You felt dizzy.

“Shit!” Chaeryeong dragged you along to the nurse’s office, “Are you okay, Y/N? Do you have your EpiPen?”

You nodded, “In my bag.” You talked past your swelling tongue as she brought you into the nurse’s office.

“Why didn't you say she was allergic to seafood!” A voice whispered to Minho.

He looked at the two anxiously, “I didn't know!” He mumbled, “She didn't have that when we were kids.” He turned to Irene, “You should’ve told me.”

“I thought you knew!” She defended, “Why do you even bother bullying her anymore? It's no fun.” Irene grumbled, burying her face into the scarf.

Jisung’s hand clenched his hair, the beanie on his head flying up, “Oh, god. She’s gonna die and we’re gonna be murderers! She’s gonna die.”

“She’s not gonna die. You're so overdramatic.” Changbin mumbled, “They’re heading to the nurse's office now. They should be able to give her the EpiPen.”

“Let's just go.” Irene began to walk off, Changbin and Jisung following, Minho trailing on after a gaze at the two entering the office.

After the uncomfortable few moments where you couldn't breathe, talk or think, the swelling of your tongue was going down, your airways began to return to normal and the sweat disappeared. You laid on the bed in the nurse's office, staring at the ceiling.

Chaeryeong sat on a chair, looking at you, “I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“Not your fault.” You chuckled, “It's good to go into anaphylactic shock every once in a while. You know, for my immune system?”

Chaeryeong gave you a look, “This isn't time to be joking! Imagine what would've happened if you didn't have your EpiPen on you!”

“I always have my EpiPen on me.” You rolled your eyes, rolling onto your side, “You should get to class. I’ll be there soon.” You nodded at her.

“Are you sure?” She asked warily.

“Yes. Go.” You nodded.

Chaeryeong grabbed her bag at her side and zipped up her coat, “I’ll see you at Winter Ball prep.”

“Bye.” You waved, and returned to lay on your back.

Had it really been so long that Minho forgot about my seafood allergy, you questioned, It's only been 4 years.

The door was pushed open, and you lifted your head to glance at whoever walked inside.

But, when you speak of the devil, he shall appear. And the devil oddly looked like Minho. He nodded to the nurse and even held his stomach in faux pain, walking stiffly over to the bed next to you.

The nurse left the room not a second later. And Minho, who not even laid down an entire two seconds ago, sat up and walked around to your bed, sitting on the edge.

You had a certain anxiety boil in your chest as soon as he entered the room, and there was a settling tension that could easily be cut with a knife. You were sure something was coming, yet you weren't sure what.

“How ya feeling?” He asked softly, as if he wasn't the cause for the anaphylactic shock you experienced, probably the worst one of your life.

It came crashing over you like a wave: the anger, the frustration and the second pair of eyes you had on your back. Why you? Why were you his sole target? Why was he like this in the first place? What happened to him that made him a cruel, even bully?

Minho dedicated his four years of high school to making your life a living hell. What he didn't expect was you to retaliate. And he definitely didn't expect you to kick his ass.

After such a dumb and idiotic prank he pulled, you were in the nurse’s office, resting on the bed, and you knew, before Minho could even get comfortable and apologize for the torment he inflicted upon you, you met your foot to his face, sending him to the ground. The anxiety and panic you were plagued with seemed to leave your body the second you saw him.

You glared down at him, your eyes sharped and curled with your fists, “You messed with the wrong person, dickhead.” It slipped past your lips like velvet, and you didn't even recognize your own voice.

Minho rubbed his cheek where your foot met, and looked up at you, “What are you gonna do?”

“I don't know yet. But all I know is that I was made for this.” You leaned forward, your eyebrows creasing, “When i speak about everything you've done, you should know my words are true. The school, no — the world — will know of what you’ve done.”

Minho’s eyes narrowed, and he stood up. He was a bit taller than you, but you could still look him in the eyes, “You think just because one person says something they’ll believe it?”

“It's not one person. It's two — three if i can convince Irene.” You crossed your arms, “You aren't the only one who’s sly, Minho.”

Minho chuckled softly, his tongue prodding at his cheek, “Clearly.”

You noticed his cheek swelling as he ran his hand over it, “You’ve bullied me for the last time, Lee Minho.” The declaration was bold, strong and Minho clearly stood there, shook to his core.

You’ve always been one to avoid conflict, Minho noted, but this was an entirely new Y/N, one he has never seen. It confused him, on how the same girl at the beginning of their high school career who easily calmed down two boys before they threw fists at one another could have kicked him in the jaw just a second ago.

With your fists curled and Minho holding his swollen cheek, the sight before anyone could clearly show the relationship you had with the boy across from you.

“What is going on here?” The nurse called, his feet shoulder length apart, clearly upset and examining the situation, “Miss Y/N, did you injure Minho?” He approached and you stepped away, your anger settling as anxiety filled you. You stammered, trying to come up with a proper excuse, but all that could come out was a small “he started it.”

The nurse checked Minho’s cheek, giving the boy an ice pack, looking at you with shifty eyes, “This could get you in serious trouble, Miss Y/N.”

And it did. The nurse sent you to the office, making a call to the secretary, who called your own mother. Sitting in the office, bouncing your leg as you took in a deep breath, already holding back tears. You seriously messed up, you really, really, really, messed up. Being on thin ice with your parents was already dangerous, but when they find out you physically assaulted a boy — Not just any boy, your childhood friend and neighbor — You’d be in bigger trouble than you thought. You’d be dead. You shouldn’t be here in the office after 4 years of torment from Lee Minho, after 4 years of anxiety in your chest when you passed him in the hallway, and 4 years of absolute hatred. Your high school years were destroyed because of one person, the one person who knew all your weaknesses, the one person you trusted to keep those hidden. And yet, no one believed you enough to say whether or not he did destroy your highschool years.

The office door opened and your mother walked in, the lines already settling into her face as she looked over at you, disappointment evident in her eyes. You could feel it radiating off of her. Burying your head in your hands, you sighed, feeling tears well in your eyes.

“Mrs. L/N, thank you for coming.” The receptionist greeted, “Principal Jung will be right with you.” Looking over at you, the receptionist sighed, “This is the second time she’s been in here. She came in blathering about Lee Minho and him taunting her.”

Your mother didn't say anything, and turned to look at you as well.

You shifted uncomfortably in the chair feeling their eyes on you. Please, stop looking, you whined to yourself.

The receptionist continued, “I told her that's not possible. He's such a sweet student and he's so smart.”

Humming, your mother began to sign the visitor list, “Yes, I know. We've been close to the Lee family for years. It's hard to believe an absurd rumor like that.” She smiled stiffly at the receptionist, moving to sit beside you, her legs crossed and arms across her chest, “Get all your excuses out now.”

You looked at your mother, eyes red and your lips almost purple from the previous anaphylactic shock you went through, “Excuses?” You almost glared, “You think I’m lying about this? You think I’m lying?”

“What would Minho gain from taunting you?”

“He’s not just taunting me, Mom. He's tormenting me.” Your voice cracked, your emotions pulling through like sled dogs dragging a musher through the snow, “He has been for 4 years.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“I don't know what he’d gain. But, whatever it is, he really wants it.” You crossed your arms, the anger bubbling with every second.

“Mrs. L/N, it's a pleasure to see you again. Although, we're here for an entirely different reason rather than a citizenship award.” Principal Jung greeted your mother, giving you a look, “Follow me along to my office.”

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you followed behind both adults.

The principal's office was right behind the receptionist’s desk, two seats in front of her desk, “Now, let's get into the situation. Miss Y/N here assaulted Mr. Minho when he was visiting the nurse’s office for a stomach cramp.” She used the mouse to click on the computer, going through the emails from the nurse. “There are two sides of every story, and I’d love to hear Miss Y/N’s.”

You took in a deep breath, going over the last 4 years of your educational career: The physical abuse, the emotional torture. Spreading weird rumors about you, tripping you in the hall. Strategically hiding seafood in a chicken burger and causing you to go into the worst anaphylactic shock you’ve experienced. You even pulled out the 10 pages filled with wasted money and the exact cause behind them. Tattered skirt — Minho found a stray string and let you walk until the skirt was much shorter than the requirement in your second year. $15.25. School supplies — Minho and Changbin stole them and dumped them in the upstairs boy's bathroom, not only causing you to lose the Summer final study guide of your first year, but also causing a giant flooding to close off the bathroom, both upstairs and downstairs (due to water damage above a stall). $120, not including the fifty dollars of ink you had to buy to reprint the study guide. And you couldn't forget the unreplaceable earrings you received from Chaeryeong on your birthday that you wore to school, only for Minho to kick a soccer ball a bit too hard right into your face, the earring tearing through your lobe, leaving an unforgiving scar and bloody nose.

In every retelling, you could recall your mother's not so subtle eye roll or scoff. Although she didn't believe it, you could see the principal nod her head as she half-listened.

“Although, this may be true, we have zero tolerance for physical altercations. We have zero evidence that this may be true, but we have evidence that you did assault Minho.”

“What?”

“Due to this, we're going to place you on a two day suspension and your tickets to the Winter Ball be refused at the door. I’m afraid your citizenship award will also be revoked, due to this behavior.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Y/N, but you should've thought about this before you hurt one of your fellow classmates.” She typed away on the computer, “Unless you can gather witnesses, these are the terms.”

“Call in Lee Chaeryeong in class 4-C. She can vouch for me!” You looked at the woman across the desk, in disbelief this was happening.

Your mother scoffed, “Chaeryeong is your best friend, who’s to say that she won't cover for you?”

Your brows were frustratedly furrowed together, your anger seeping over, “This is ridiculous.” You sighed.

“If you had been tormented for so many years, why didn't you let someone know sooner?”

“Because my mother clearly doesn't believe me. Who knows what my dad thinks? This school is protecting him, and I, as the victim, get two day suspension and I’m unable to attend the Winter Ball.”

“I think that's all for now.” Your mother stood up, “Thank you for your time, Principal Jung. I apologize for my daughter's negligence.” She bowed deeply, “Let's go, Y/N.” She wandered over to the door and opened it for you.

You grabbed your bag, dragging it in your hand and out the office doors, stomping your way to the passenger door of the car.

You have never felt so… so angry, so disrespected and so abused.

You had every single right to be upset at your mother, at the school, and at Minho. None of this would have happened if the… fucker just told you what his issue was with you.

Every single memory in your mind of him suddenly burnt up in the fictional flame, his face scratched out like a lottery ticket and torn up like a cat using a scratching post. When your mother unlocked the door, you pulled open the passenger door with all your might, you were sure that the door was going to fly off.

She climbed in just after you, setting her purse on the jockey box, “I can't believe you would make up such a rumor like that.” She scolded, “And that fake list.”

“Make up? Rumor?” You had to pull back your voice, “You think I wanted to blow all my money on 16 different skirts in my school years? That I wanted to spend 536 dollars and 12 cents?I don't even get that much on my paycheck, Mom!”

“Cut the bullshit.” Her voice was different than when she was speaking to the Principal and the receptionist. No, she was furious, but her fury could never match yours, “When we get home, you’re going to apologize to the Lee family for what you did.”

“No. I’m not apologizing to him.” You glared, “I’m not. Why should I apologize for finally sticking up for myself? Why should I apologize for going into anaphylactic shock when they're the ones who put seafood in my chicken burger!”

“You are going to.” She turned on the car, pulling out of the parking spot, “Two day suspension. What would your father say?”

“Probably the same thing you did.” You mumbled, staring out the window with your hand against your head, “I should've never said anything.” You whispered more to yourself than anyone, but your mother still heard you, although not paying any mind.

The neighborhood you lived in wasn't as lively as it used to be. It became one that a lot of older people moved into due to the quiet nature and lack of foot traffic. Stray animals often wandered through to find comfort for the evening. Parking in the driveway, before your mother could even turn off the car, you exited the vehicle and entered the house, kicking off your shoes and stomped up to your room. You pushed open the door, throwing your bag onto the floor.

Your window was open, which ironically peered into Minho’s room.

Sitting on your bed, you recalled staying up way past your bedtime with him to communicate through stringed cups and drawings on your notepads. And up until 4 years ago, he used to throw rocks from his succulent planter at your window in the middle of the night if he was having a particular hard time sleeping. But now, you look at the window with anger, disdain. You hated it. You hated him.

Grabbing the string to the blinds, you gave one final look into the room, Minho asleep on his bed (as he got picked up early from school due to the situation) and shut the blinds, that your mother opened for an unknown reason.

Your phone chimed, and you glanced at it, seeing a text from Chaeryeong, asking what the verdict was. Giving a brief synopsis, you opened your laptop, and typed in the social media handle, his social media handle. You had followed him on social media up until this exact moment for the same reason you were unfollowing him: an impossible change of heart. You wanted to keep him on your close friends list in case he had come to the realization that you were a catch, that you were a good friend. But now, you know it wasn't possible.

You and Chaeryeong kept the text thread going up until it was time for her to give up her phone to her parents.

You leaned back in your desk chair, sighing softly.

Two day suspension, you thought, Couldn't be so bad. Sure, it goes on my record, but, it's like a break, isn't it? You nodded to yourself, already enjoying the time to yourself.

Who needs a shitty Winter Ball when I can have my own in my room?

The thoughts you had varied. You were home, alone, for 2 days. You were excited. Then you got upset as your suspension ended the day before the ball, and you already had everything you needed for the evening. Then angry again. And you could have had more time to gather your thoughts and emotions and really understand them, if it wasn't for the tapping on your window.

You jumped when you first heard it. And you even began to wonder if it was raining. Rolling your chair to the window, you opened the blinds.

The person you definitely didn't want to see even if the world was ending sat across from your window, his cheek significantly less swollen and dropped the rocks back into the planter. Grabbing the notepad beside him, he showed it to you.

“What happened? Like you care.” You scoffed to yourself, and grabbed your own to scribble down a straightforward message, tearing off a piece of tape to tape it onto the window.

Minho chuckled, “I hate you, huh? How cliché.”

You closed the blinds again, leaving the paper there before turning back to your laptop.

You’d be receiving work from your teacher's, and you were sure that the work sent would be harder, considering you're going to miss 2 days worth of lessons. 

The world could send what it wanted at you, you were ready to look at the face of it all with unwavering strength. After all, if you learned anything in your mythology class, it's that Icarus laughed as he fell.

You slept in late the next morning, only for your mother to wake you up with the pull of the blinds string. You haven't spoken to her since you were in the car with her, so you just sat up without any repercussions.

Rubbing your eyes with your hand, you caught sight of the paper still taped to the window, chuckling to yourself.

Minho pulled on a sweater, still dressed in his pajamas, holding an ice pack against his cheek and eye with one hand as he scrolled through his phone with the other. You couldn't help but smile to yourself.

You remember that sweater — You had bought it for him in eighth grade. He was upset that everyone was getting something from the aquarium gift shop, so you decided to give it to him, yourself settling for a small plush of a penguin. He loved it when you gave it to him. He didn't take it off for a month.

You could see the imaginary torn, burned and scratched out memory reappear in your mind, and your smile was ripped away from your face.

No, no, you hate him, you shook your head, running your fingers through your hair.

A soft chime.

Minho: You’re staring.

The message was all you needed to stand up and close the blinds, making your way to the bathroom. There were three or four chimes from your phone and you noted to yourself that you’ll check them when you got back, at least one of them should be from Chaeryeong.

Drying your hands off after using the restroom and brushing your teeth, you tapped your phone screen, four obnoxious messages covering your screen, all from Minho.

Minho: Don't close the blinds.

Minho: I hope you know I’m sorry.

Minho: I really don't have an explanation for what I did.

Minho: What if I told you I could get you into the Winter Ball.

Now that sounded interesting.

Y/N: Tell me.

Minho: On one condition, you go with me like nothing happened.

You clicked your tongue, furrowing your brows and locked your phone.

Y/N: I’d rather be dragged through every layer of Dante’s Inferno and rot.

Typing in the password to your laptop, you opened your email, finding over 15 emails from your teachers — why they sent so many assignments, you’d never know.

Although you tried to ignore the devil next door, the text message showed up in the notification bar on your laptop.

Minho: Alright. You don't have to go with me. And you can still hold your grudge for me. You can hang it over my head for however many years.

Clicking the “x” hovering over the message, another one chimed through.

Minho: If you come to the gymnasium at 6:30, I’ll let you in through the back door.

“X”

Minho: You don't deserve to have your Winter Ball torn away from you because Principal Jung didn't believe you.

“X”

Minho: I’m sorry, for what it's worth. I hope we can be friends again.

That’s it, you clicked the message, typing out a long message as follows: “Your apology as it is now means jackshit to me. For the entirety of my high school year, I had to live in fear of you. Nothing can make up for that, except perhaps for the 530 dollars you owe me in expenses. Friendship comes at an expensive price with me, and you threw it away as if it was worthless. If you want me to forgive you, admitting to what you did and taking the proper punishment for it might fit well. Until you grow a pair, do not talk to me, do not text me, and definitely do not throw rocks at my window.”

You were pretty proud with the message, and you turned back to your work, thoughtlessly scribbling down the notes shared with you, and completed the online work assigned.

And when the 15 assignments of the day were finished, you settled down on your bed, your thoughts finally returning to your head. He wants to be friends again, you couldn't ignore the gentle smile crossing your lips, before you shook it off. That ship sailed just yesterday, you reminded yourself. But no matter how many times you shook it off, it kept returning to your face.

He really wants to be friends again.

It repeated in your head, and no matter how many you tried to make it stop, it wouldn't. It stuck to you like glue, and you rolled around onto your bed, burying your idiotic smile into the pillow, glancing at the window.

You waited 4 years for this, for him to finally admit that he wanted to be friends again. And although you were in the position you were in now, you felt like maybe that's what tipped the iceberg. Maybe he caused all these problems just for you to fight back, for you to prove yourself.

“Y/N, dinner's ready.” Your father knocked.

It was the only time he actually spoke to you since yesterday, and it was three words. Standing up from your bed, and headed down the stairs.

I wonder what's for dinner, you thought, Probably steak again. Dad always—

Getting pulled from your thoughts, you noticed three extra pairs of eyes on you: the Lee family.

Cursing to yourself, you rubbed your head, greeting the family, giving Minho a sideways glance.

“I considered since you weren't going to go over, I’d ask them to dinner here.” Your mother sat at the head of the table, your father at the other end. Minho and you were seated next to each other with his parents straight across from you two.

It was nerve wracking. Tension was high and clearly uncomfortable for everyone.

Despite you being dressed in your pajamas — short shorts and a sweater — you did assault the boy beside you, and his parents watched you like a hawk. Every move you made, they analyzed it and watched. Every bite into the food, every breath, or every shiver. You felt imprisoned in your own home.

Your mother set her chopsticks down, turning to look at you, “Don't you have something to say?” She picked up the wine glass, filled with what you assumed was chardonnay, and took a small sip.

You shrugged gently, “Are you going to believe it if I say it?”

“Depends on what you're going to say.”

You sighed, “Alright.” Setting your own chopsticks down, you smiled at the Lee family across from you, “Your son has been tormenting me for 4 years.” Looking at your mother, you pretended to feign innocence, “Is that all?”

“How dare you?” Your mother glared at you.

Minho cleared his throat, “If I may,” He smiled gently, wiping his face with his napkin, “Mrs. L/N, I appreciate the sentiment, but she isn't lying.” He mumbled.

The entire table's mouth gaped — including your mother's, who had a strong sense of pride in him being innocent. You began to pick around your food, eating whatever didn't seem too tough for you.

Minho began to explain, although you weren't really listening. And when he finished, he looked at you with his black and blue eye, almost as if he was asking for your opinion.

You shook your head, going right back to eating your meal.

“I think…” Your father started, “we own you an apology, Y/N.” He mumbled, so desperately upset he had even doubted your word.

Wiping your mouth, you stood up, “It's okay.” And left the table, walking back up the steps to your bedroom.

Minho thought this was his redemption arc, but you wanted the school to see him as he was. A conniving, self centered bully.

Pulling down the sheets to your bed, you shut your blinds and laid down to sleep the next day away.

Downstairs, your mother and father awkwardly excused the table, collecting the plates and seeing the family out. They entered the house doubting every word you said, only to leave doubting everything their own son said.

Their own son. The one they raised to be a perfect gentleman, the one they raised to treat everyone with respect no matter what.

When they arrived to the house next door, they sent the boy up to his room and informed him they’d be up there to talk to him in a moment. Obeying, Minho entered his bedroom, opening the window, only to see your blinds still closed, the reminder taped to your window.

I hate you, it read in your handwriting. And who was he to blame you? Because of what he did, he was facing the consequences. And he didn't realize how much he ruined the relationship you two had, all because he thought he was better than you.

The two of you were on the same level: academically and socially, once upon a time. And he was aware that every family compares the child to their friends, because they never see the real them.

But with his parents, it was the same conversation with everything: “Why can’t you be more like Y/N?” or “Why can't you do this like Y/N can?” They’d ask how you were doing before their own son. You were like their second child. They saw you in all your glory.

And he was sick of being compared to that glory. That's when he began to sneakily throw your test scantrons into the trash, or when he began to spread those disgusting rumors about you. He did all that out of envy. Of anger.

He understood the anger you felt when your parents wrongfully accused you of lying about what was happening. He wanted you to feel how he felt it.

But, with that, you had an award you worked hard for ripped from your grasp, suspension for assault listed on your permanent record, and of course, your Winter Ball stolen from you.

Sitting at his desk while his father scolded him, he noticed his mother taking his electronics: his cell phone and his gaming consoles. She left the laptop, but only after explaining that the only things open to him was school websites and everything was blocked.

They were disappointed in him once again.

He knew it wasn't enough for him to just admit it to his parents. He picked that up during dinner when you so much as gave him a glance. He’d have to do more. A lot more.

And he had just the plan.

The next day, despite your plan to sleep in, you woke up as if it was every other day and got to work on the assignment given by your teachers. It wasn't as bad as the day before, but it was still a lot. You went to bed without dinner that night.

You haven't spoken to Minho, however, you did relay his plan over to Chaeryeong, who agreed to help you. You both tried to come up with a convincing lie for your parents and you decided to say that Chaeryeong wasn't going, which leads to Chaeryeong sending you photos of her working on fake assignments, which makes you question what she's been doing for her having such good photos like those.

And when the Winter Ball D-Day arrived, you returned to school like it was nothing. The hallways were decorated with snowflakes and candy canes, groups chattering about how excited they were, what they were wearing and what they’d be arriving in. Although you were sneaking in, you felt left out. You didn't have anything exciting to converse with them.

“Vote for Winter Court! Last few hours before the box closes until this evening.” A voice called in the hallway, and you peeked down to see Irene waving the flyers around, stopping the passers to ask them to vote if they haven't.

Chaeryeong stopped beside you, “I didn't think I’d see that on the day of.” She held her bag straps, “Must be Winter Ball fever.”

Shrugging, you tightened your own bag straps, “Someone had to take over. I guess she was just the next best thing.”

“How do you like the decorations? I think we did a good job.”

Looking across the ceiling, you nodded, “It looks great.”

“I tried to stick as close to the plans as possible. And, I even volunteered to clean up after the ball ends.” She changed her shoes and followed you in, “Did you tell your parents what we decided on?”

“Yeah, they said it's fine.” You nodded, “They’ve been lenient since Minho fessed up.”

“I can't believe he did that.” Chaeryeong crossed her arms, pulling a face, “He should’ve done it sooner!” She threw her arms in the air, her brows furrowed.

Walking down the hall, Irene stopped you.

“Y/N.”

You jumped back, “Hi, Irene.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you're okay.” She hugged you tightly, smiling softly, “I didn't know how to react when you went into shock like that!”

You chuckled nervously, “Yeah…”

“Everyone's been talking about you!” Her eyes sparkled, “They're all happy someone finally stood up to Minho.”

“Alright. Back away from Y/N.” Chaeryeong had to lead her back to the table, “You can talk to her all you’d like after the Winter Ball.”

“Oh, did you vote, Chaeryeong? They added someone new onto the ballot.” Irene smiled.

“Yes, I did.” She patted the other girls head, “I’ll see you later.” Nodding to you, you both continued down the hallway until you reached the classroom.

“See you after school.” You and Chaeryeong shared your secret handshake before you both walked off to your respective classes.

It was so odd. When you sat down in class, everyone began to whisper, but it wasn't because of your tattered skirt, or the bandage around your head for the torn earlobe, or for your tear stained cheeks.

It was for how courageous you were to stand up to someone so cruel like Minho, how you were so brave.

Looking behind you, the small group of three: Minho, Jisung and Changbin — watched as the group gathered around your desk, as if you weren't invisible anymore. Awkwardly taking your seat, you smiled, the teacher stepping in just in time as you were getting claustrophobic.

And the entire day was like that. A relaxing class, a stressful passing period. Hell, they even gathered around you at lunch, while you ate the turkey sandwich your mother made you. They watched you like a hawk.

“So, are you going to the Winter Ball?” One of them asked.

You responded with a stiff, “No, I got banned.”

And then that gave the group something to chatter about: Banned? For kicking someone in the jaw? Banned? For sticking up for yourself? It looped around, making you question how the word got around school.

You finished your meal while they all questioned the school's moral compass, and you stood up to throw out the trash you collected from your box. And once the final bell rang, you sat back in your seat, cleaning up your desk to finish your studies for the day.

Dismissal from school was so much more odd: Some students decided to hang back in order to get ready, already finding themselves burrowing into the bathroom to stare into the mirror for the next 45 minutes while they patted on makeup and pulled on their dress.

Your two day suspension made you realize something. Teenagers hold physical experiences so much higher than the other kinds. They always think back to parties or dances and hold it up on a pedestal. Meanwhile, they have perfectly fun moments at home, yet they're decreased to nothing but a passing thought. If it wasn't for the 105 dollar collateral you placed on the dress for this evening, you would have to agree with your thoughts, but for now, you’d have to dance the night away like there was no tomorrow.

Chaeryeong stood beside your car, scrolling through her phone screen as she looked around for you. And when she saw you, she waved and smiled.

Unlocking the door, you sat down in the driver's seat with her in the passenger’s seat.

“So, good news.” She smiled, “Someone offered to help us tonight.”

“Who?” You started the car, buckling in your seatbelt.

“Let's just say that they're someone we haven't entirely enjoyed for the last 4 months, and that they just wanna make it up to us.”

You paused, turning to look at Chaeryeong. You would've been surprised at the girl who approached the window, if it would have been on your side, but instead, Irene gave a hearty “boo” through the window, Chaeryeong rolling down the window with narrowed eyes.

Irene pulled a face before she climbed into the backseat, “Hello.”

You smiled at her, “Finally joining the right side of history?”

“It's always good to do a little flip flopping now and then.” She shrugged, setting her bag down on the floor.

Chaeryeong looked at you, “Alright, so what's the plan?”

“You both walk in there like it's just you two, showing your tickets and everything. I’ll park my car at the park behind the school and sneak onto campus through the gate after 20 minutes, at 6:50. I’ll knock on the back door 5 times, and Chaeryeong, you open the door when you think the coast is clear.” Pulling out of the driveway, you drove towards Chaeryeong’s house, “That's pretty much it.”

“It feels like we're in a spy movie!”

Chaeryeong turned to look at the girl in the backseat, “What made you change your mind?”

“Well, I always knew Minho didn't like me around. And he just wanted to hit Y/N where it hurts.” She played with her fingernails, “I’m sorry I left you guys. If I’m being honest, spending time with those three is stressful! They're so dirty.”

You looked in the rearview mirror, smiling at Irene softly, “It's all cool, Irene. Everyone wants a taste of popular life.”

Pulling up to Chaeryeong’s house, the three of you grabbed your things and climbed out of the car. You had your dress thrown over your arm and your backpack hanging off your shoulder.

The scene of entering her home, too excited to greet her family and preparing for the night with gentle music in the background felt exactly like a 80’s movie. Scene-for-scene, Irene getting dressed in the closet as she chattered with Chaeryeong about what type of music she hoped they’d play and if she’d find the perfect person to dance to a slow song with. Chaeryeong pulled on her own dress, dusting a gentle blush on the apples of her cheeks and her nose, looking at you, who was nearly bending over backwards to tie the upper corset of the dress.

“Y/N, come sit down! Let me do your makeup!” She smiled, patting her bed, crossing her legs on the vanity chair.

“I don't know…” You mumble, “Last time you did my makeup for an outing, you made me look like that dragon from Shrek.” You laughed, teasing the girl.

Chaeryeong sputtered, “Fine, I promise I won't make you look like the dragon from Shrek, or any other freaky characters or whatever.” She patted the bed again.

You sat down, anxiously fidgeting with the skirt, going over the plan once more, including collateral damage in case a teacher is suspecting something, before you finally voiced your anxiety, “What if this is all a hoax?”

“What do you mean?” Irene swiped the lip gloss across her lips, popping them twice and cleaning the edge with her finger.

“With Minho.” You mumbled, “What if he tipped off the principal about what I’m doing?”

Chaeryeong shook her head, “We won't let that happen, Y/N.” She lined your lips slowly, “That's what Irene and I are here for.”

Irene settled behind you, gently brushing your hair back with her fingers, “I won't let Principal Jung get close to you.”

Chaeryeong smiled softly, “There. Makeup's all done. Irene’s doing your hair. And we still have 40 minutes left to spare. We can get pictures and everything done then.”

You smiled gently, “Even if I don't get to go in, I’m happy I could have this experience with you two again.”

“Principal Jung’s a jerk for taking away the Winter Ball for you. It's your last year at the school.” Irene mumbled.

Chaeryeong joined in, “And, you helped decorate. The least she could have done was let you go.”

You chuckled, “It was my own lack of judgement. When I saw his face, I wanted to do nothing but punch him.”

Irene pulled her hands away from your hair, smiling, “Picture time!” Before adding the final touch; a white feathered headband, clipping it into your hair.

The three of you all wandered down the steps, Chaeryeong’s parents at the bottom of the stairs, a camera in her dad’s hands and her mother gushing about how wonderful the three of you all looked. Guiding you all along to the area in front of their fire place, Chaeryeong stood in the middle, placing her hand on her hip and nodded to her father.

“Big smiles.” He chuckled, the shutter closing and capturing the photo. You all took a few more, taking joking pictures with one another, serious ones, and even having individual pictures taken of each of you, with one of the others holding you as if they were your date to the dance.

Chaeryeong's mother chuckle, "Okay, you three. You should head out before you waste the dance just taking pictures."

The three of you waddled to the front door, Chaeryeong's mother giving a peck to her head, and rubbing her cheeks, smiling softly.

Irene and yourself headed out to the car, climbing into the front seats.

And when Chaeryeong joined, she climbed into the backseat, "Why do you get shotgun, Irene! You just joined us again."

"Move your feet, lose your seat!" The two bickered back and forth.

You chuckled, turning down the music a bit to listen to their argument. It was like that the entire ride.

"The front seat is about loyalty, Irene! And you decided to not only be friends with Minho, but to date him!" Chaeryeong scolded.

Irene fired back, "He's the one who asked! I went in as a secret spy."

Pulling into the parking lot, you took your regular spot and shut off the car, "Okay, let's go over the plan one more time."

Chaeryeong groaned playful, "At 6:50, we open the back door of the gym to you, and then we party like we've never partied before."

"Yeah." Irene nodded.

You looked between the two, "What are you both going to do if a teacher comes and asks what you're doing?"

"I'll peek my head out and knock three times while you go run off to the girl's locker room and hide away in the shower stalls. And I'll tell the teacher I must've heard something." Chaeryeong responded plainly, already getting annoyed of the rehearsals.

Irene mumbled along.

You sent them a thumb's up, "See, was that so hard?" You laughed, "Alright, get up to the door and turn in your ticket. I'll be at the park behind the school until-"

"6:50 on the dot!" You all blurted out together, Chaeryeong and Irene giving each other an eye roll before they slammed the door and headed to the front doors, turning in their tickets to join the dance.

You pulled out from the spot and drove around the corner to the park, plopping down on a park bench, sifting through your bag. You mindlessly began to reorganize your bag, keeping your phone propped up to show the time.

"20 whole minutes." You sighed to yourself, tapping the items against the table, clicking your tongue.

You could see the gymnasium door just across the way, your eyes catching on the door, hopeful.

God, please let this work, you thought to yourself.

It never stuck with you just how screwed up this whole situation was: You lost a citizenship award you worked so hard for, you planted the trees just outside the baseball field for Arbor Day, for Christ sake. You donated approximately 6 pints of blood for blood drives. You volunteered at the hospital. You volunteered at the dentists. You volunteered at shelters, the same exact shelters Minho picked his three cats for adoption, it so happens. You didn't just lose your citizenship award, no, you lost all dignity in the eyes of your teachers, your supervisors. You felt so wronged because, what? You threw a little kick to the boy who has been taunting you?

You set up the entire Winter Ball. You were the one who introduced it to the council after it was pushed back for something else. You were the one who designed it. You were the one who made the ballots based on the students suggestions. You did this, all of it, aside from physically setting it up. You couldn't take credit from Chaeryeong and the others who worked so hard to make it a reality.

No, it wasn't just you who did all of it. It was plenty of others. It was the students who donated money to help make their dream a reality. It was the students who voted. It was the council for agreeing to it in the first place. It was your parents for getting you all those volunteering hours, it was your parents who gave you direction.

And, God, you didn't want to admit it, but it was also Minho. You could remember his voice as a child, saying, "If we ever have a dance, I'll take you as my date."

Maybe you haven't been completely honest to yourself. To anyone really.

You loved Minho, and maybe the whole reason you let him get away with everything before was because you couldn't blame him; you blamed something else. You blamed his parents for being more obsessed with you than him. You blamed media for telling people that if a boy is mean to you, he like-likes you.

And Minho, in all his bitter rage to his parents, you couldn't blame yourself for loving that smart-as-a-whip, as-funny-as-a-bumblebee and handsome-as-hell, Lee Minho.

The realization almost brought you to tears. But, leaning your head back just as the tears welled, you decided to sacrifice your confession, rather than your makeup.

You grabbed a tissue from your bag, holding the corner to your waterline and used it to soak up the tears in both eyes.

Fanning your face as you looked back at your phone, you realized the time, shoving everything back into your bag and stood up, nearly dashing to the back door of the gym, knocking 5 times.

Chaeryeong opened the door almost immediately, waving you along.

"We did it." She cheered, "We did the plan!" She smiled brightly.

You looked at Chaeryeong as you squeezed through the door, holding your clutch bag in your hand, "Where's Irene?"

Chaeryeong looked over her shoulder, "On the dance floor."

You looked at the girl dancing with someone, smiling to yourself, "She looks happy."

Chaeryeong nodded, "It's so fun in here." She smiled, bouncing on her toes, "Come on! Let's go!"

You followed her to where Irene was, dancing with her.

Minho stood off in the corner of the gym, his hands in his dress pockets.

The disco lights on top of the stage echoed off your vibrance. The white feather headband around your head shined just as bright as your smile. The white dress encasing you so brilliantly, he could almost think you were an angel.

The music echoed off the walls, Heaven by EXO played, Minho's thoughts echoing in the song, silently wishing that you picked up the message that he was telepathically sent you.

All he saw was you in the room, among all the bodies that danced, he was only focused on you.

Minho couldn't help the gentle smile crossing his lips as he saw you dancing with Chaeryeong and Irene, the laugh escaping your lungs at a joke one of the two said. The gentle reminder from his swollen cheek and black eye echoing in his head.

"Dude," Changbin nudged Minho's back with his elbow, "Go talk to her."

Minho shook his head, "She won't talk to me." He mumbled, kicking up an invisible piece of dirt with his shoe.

"Well, we're gonna go dance." Jisung mumbled, "If you wanna join, you know where to find us."

Changbin and Jisung began walking off before Minho stopped them with his hand, "Wait." He started, "You guys got all those ballots in, right?"

"Yes, dude. We put them in all around the school." Jisung shrugged, "Don't worry, Minho. She'll come around."

Minho looked over Jisung's shoulder, glancing at your figure, "Yeah, you're right."

Jisung scoffed, "Of course I am." He shrugged.

The two wandered back to their dates, grabbing their hands and leading them to the dance floor, not very far from where you three were.

Irene greeted the two, smiling softly and talking over the music. And it seems, as aware you've been in the past, that wherever those two were, Minho wasn't far behind. Turning your head over your shoulder, you saw Minho standing at the refreshments table, nodding his head to you.

And by some miracle, you nodded back, turning back to your friends, whispering to Chaeryeong about who knows what, and looked back at him, the well in your eyes clear under the fairy lights and led's.

He wanted you to have fun. And he was sure to let you have it, even if it meant destroying his own evening.

Chaeryeong rubbed your back as you whispered to her, "Hey, Y/N, you'll be okay." She calmed you down, "I understand the anxiety, but I promise you, I won't let anything happen to you here. Not tonight. Not after everything we all went through."

Your chest heaved, "Yeah, you're right." You nodded.

Who were you to let your anxiety settle in your stomach at the sight of your oh-so gracious enemy? That same enemy you've had feelings for ever since he first got scared by that worm you held out to him on a rainy day? That same enemy you've had so many movie nights with?

No, you weren't going to let him get the best of you, not tonight; Especially not when Jisung was dancing like an old grandpa at his granddaughter's wedding.

Minho peeked over his shoulder again as he walked to the entrance of the entire gym, swirling the fruit punch in his hand.

Suddenly, an idea popped in his head. Not one of malice, but rather a way to settle your anxiety a bit. Something that'll get the supervisors out of the way. So, they didn't notice you.

Clicking his tongue, he grabbed a lemon from the refreshments table, something that was used as decoration and immediately squeezed it in his drink. Looking around, he wandered back to his spot by the door, and took a sip.

He pulled a face, smacking his tongue in disgust, "Oh, yeah. That's the real deal." He gagged. Holding up the drink, he looked at the bottom, hoping a seed or nothing got into his drink, just to really hitch off his plan. Wandering over to a supervisor, he gagged again, "Excuse me." He started, and when they turned he began to pull off the lies he's become so good at, "This... This fruit punch, I think the supervisor there spiked it, or something. It tastes off." He shrugged.

The supervisor he told immediately looked at the refreshments table and furrowed his brows, "May I take a sip?"

Minho passed him the clear plastic cup, "All yours. I think I'm good for the night." He held his hands up, straighten his face.

The supervisor took a sip, their brows furrowing, "Oh, that's foul!" They complained, "Thank you for telling me, Minho. I'll get on that immediately." They threw the drink out and called the security over.

Minho walked off, laughing quietly to himself, stuffing his hands back in his pockets.

The supervisor asked the other to follow them out, and just like that, all the other's followed, wanting to see what was going on with the refreshments supervisor.

His eyes were captivated by you, leaning against the table of the unattended refreshments, letting out his own little laugh as Changbin and Jisung were dancing like idiots, his eyes stuck on you.

He couldn't get over how... beautiful you looked. Ethereal, even. Minho was shocked how no one else was looking at you, how no one was as captivated as he was.

And he would've mustered up the courage to walk up to you if it wasn't for the student announcer walking across the stage, clearing their throat and tapping on the microphone to get the attention of the student body.

"Attention all students!" They started, "Congratulations to all of you for joining us at this wonderful ball. None of this would've been accomplished if it wasn't for all your support and ideas. We appreciate it so, so much."

The crowd cheered, Jisung letting out a loud whoop at the thanks.

"This evening, in this envelope, I have the official results for our school wide ballot that will decide our Winter Ball Court for this event." They smiled as another eruption of cheers came out, "Now, please, join me in this wonderful reveal of our court."

Tearing open the envelope, Minho smiled to himself, looking up at you as he hoped you were just as excited for this reveal as he was.

"First, our Winter Ball Princess, is..." The anticipation built.

Jisung and Changbin obnoxiously hyped the crowd with what sounded like barks, and whoops, and cheers.

"Bae Joohyun, also known as, Irene!" The student announcer clapped.

"Oh my god, Irene!" Chaeryeong hugged her friend, a wide smile on her face, "You won Princess!"

"Congratulations, Irene!" You hugged her tightly, "Go up there and get your prize."

Irene smiled brightly, giving Jisung and Changbin and their dates their own hugs, as she walked up the stage, her dress glittering in the light.

"For our Winter Ball Princess this evening, we'll be gifting her not only a crown, but a $200 dollar gift certificate to our proud sponsor, Seoul Queen Spa!" The student announcer held up the certificate, passing it to Irene.

"Woo! Let's go, Irene!" Jisung cheered, clapping loudly, leading the entire crowd to follow.

Irene bowed deeply, giving her thanks.

"How wonderful!" The announcer clapped themselves, "Alright, who is our Winter Ball Prince?" They cleared their throat once again, "Our Winter Ball Prince will be getting a $150 gift certificate to, I'm sure, a school favorite bakery." They smiled, the crowd cheering, "Our Winter Ball Prince, is..." They drummed their hands on the podium, "Seo Changbin!"

"Let's go!" Jisung cheered, giving his friend a giant hug, patting his back with his hand, "Hey, man, get me one of those chocolate muffins at that bakery."

Changbin chuckled, pushing the younger's head playfully, giving a kiss to his date's cheek and walked up to the stage, just as everyone began to cheer loudly, a chorus of his name being chanted. Jokingly, Changbin waved his head, bowing and letting the announcer place the crown on his head.

"Now, for the moment you've all been waiting for. The Winter Ball King and Queen!"

Another cheer, Jisung making obnoxious noises just as it was announced, and Chaeryeong letting out her own cheer.

"Our Winter Ball King and Queen will not only be getting special gifts, our King and Queen will have a special date together, provided by our wonderful supervisors here this evening." The announcer smiled.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Chaeryeong squealed, "So many weeks of getting people to vote! I wonder who won!"

"I know!" You both held each other's hands in anticipation.

Looking up just a bit, everything almost moving in slow motion, you caught eyes with Minho, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

You could swear that the glimpse Minho sent to you had a smile across his face, a mischievous glint in his eyes, one with a bruise decorating his orbital. And when you met your unwavering eyes at him, he bit his bottom lip and turned his head away from you.

“And the Winter Ball Royal Court starts with...” the student announcer opened the envelope, a smile crossing their lips as the turned the card to the crowd, “Y/N!" They called.

"Y/N, you won!" Chaeryeong gasped, "Those write in ballots must've been the one's who elected you!"

"Huh, probably." You mumbled.

"Well, go! Go! Get your crown." Chaeryeong almost pushed you to the stairs.

You're eyes widened while looking at Minho, the fear and hyperawareness that this could become a Carrie situation. 

“Come on up, Y/N.” The announcer called, holding a hand out to you, helping you up the steps. The anxiety that settled inside your chest drowned out the applause around you as you scanned the ceiling before you relaxed and accepted the crown to be placed on your head.

The announcer turned to the microphone, smiling, “The final winner for Winter Royal Court is... Lee Minho.” They clapped.

You froze, looking into the crowd as Minho pushed past some students, nodding to them in response to their congratulations. He bent down for the announcer to place the crown on his head, the crowd laughing with him just as he planted himself right beside you, scratching at the black eye, wincing just a bit at the bruising.

Minho looked at you, clearing his throat, “You look nice.” He whispered, fixing his suit.

“As do you.” You mumbled bluntly, taking a small step away from him, “So, how’d you win? We both weren’t on the ballot.”

“Jisung and Changbin dumped some faux write-in ballots in the box.” He nodded to his group of friends, giving a high five to Changbin, “Thought this would be the easiest way to talk to you without you physically assaulting me.”

The announcer smiled, “Now, it’s time for the dance with the winter court! Everyone, grab a partner, and get ready to share the waltz with one another.”

The lights dimmed and the music began. Minho turned to you, settling one hand on your hip, and the other holding your hand. “I hope you know I don’t hate you.” he started, “They were just impractical jokes.”

You could remember vividly when you were imagining this as a kid; On The Snow by EXO would be playing, Minho holding your hand in his, and you both would share a meaningful moment.

And only two of those were true; On The Snow was definitely playing, and Minho was definitely holding your hand.

You furrowed your brows, “Impractical jokes? You gave me food poisoning on one occasion, and the flu on the other.” You glared at him, "I could've died a few days ago."

Minho sighed, "Listen, I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't mean to try to kill you." He sighed, "Isn't that what all boys do to their crush?"

“No.” you growled, “Normally, boys would just give their crush their jacket on a cold day, or flowers when they’re sad. What you did was just... cruel.” You looked away, feeling both embarrassed and upset.

Minho chuckled softly, shaking his head, “You're thinking of chick-flic endings.”

“There's nothing wrong with someone wanting to be treated correctly.” You squeezed his hand until your fingertips turned white, “Who knows? Maybe if you did treat me with an ounce of respect, I could’ve been your date tonight instead of you having to find a way to talk to me and ruin my winter ball.” 

Minho looked at you softly, "Let's start from the beginning."

"What?"

"From the beginning. From that day I told you you'd be my date to something like this."

You looked away, "I can't forget what you did to me."

"I never said you did. I just said we can start from the beginning." He lifted your head with his finger, "You can hang all of those cruel things I did to you over my head."

Your heart thumped in your chest, "You owe me 536 dollars and 12 cents." You mumbled, "And, I get to choose the movies we watch for a month."

Minho smiled, "Deal." Using his fingers to brush an invisible strand of hair from your face, he held your face in your hand for a little bit, "Can I kiss you?"

You looked at him softly, "You haven't had any fish, have you?"

Minho chuckled, "No, I haven't. Not today, at least." He smiled, "Not tonight. I wouldn't have done that to you."

"Then, yes." You whispered.

All three came true, you thought to yourself, feeling your inner-child jumping with joy.

But before he could press his lips against yours, a loud booming voice stopped you both.

"Miss Y/N!"

"Oh, no." You turned to find the principal entering the gymnasium, "Gotta run." You whispered, lifting your dress so you didn't trip over it as you ran down the steps and out the back door, dashing to your car.

The principal and other supervisors stood at the exit and watched as you sat in your car, a giant smile across your face as you watched them right back.

Minho raised his arms in frustration, debating on what exactly to do in this situation.

Changbin chuckled, "Modern day Cinderella."

"But she didn't drop a shoe." Jisung shrugged, leaning against the edge of the stage, before gasping, "But she did leave that!" He pointed before grabbing the discarded item on the ground.

It was the white feathered headband, and Minho nearly snatched it from his hands, looking at the door you ran out.

Chaeryeong and Irene shared a look, before they ran out the door the supervisors returned through.

Chaeryeong paused, "We're really sorry, miss, but what you did was... incredibly wrong to do." She looked at the principal with anger in her eyes, "Sorry, again!"

Minho hurried down the stage and followed the two out the door, "Sorry, miss, but, maybe you should've listened to your number one citizen!" He shouted as he ran behind the two girls, following them to your parked car.

"Minho?!" Chaeryeong shouted behind her, "What are you doing?!"

"I'm not letting her think I don't care again." He chuckled, knocking at the window of your car, motioning for you to roll down the window.

And when you did, Minho popped his head through, kissing you in the lips, the headband forgotten in his hand.

You gasped softly, feeling all that anxiety you had melt away, holding his wrists as he kissed you before he pulled away to breathe.

Minho smiled softly, "I think I love you, Cinderella."

You chuckled softly, "Come over and we can talk more about it." You ran your thumb across his swollen cheek, and his bruised eye, a sad reminder of what the two of you experienced.

Minho laughed, setting the headband just the way it was on your head, "I'll see you then."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

#ITS FINALLY DONE YALL #BULLY!MINHO IS HERE #lee minho #lee know #minho scenarios #minho smut #minho reactions #minho oneshots #minho imagines #minho blurb #minho timestamp #minho x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids reactions #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #stray kids blurbs #stray kids timestamps #stray kids x reader #the-wonandonly #q

[hanjisick]

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. 
This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

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[shu-porang-porang]

Who's Needy Now?

♡Just a quick Minho drabble.♡ (Read the sequel here)

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Rating: Explicit

Theme: Suggestive, 18+ NO MINORS.

Warnings: sexual content (honestly I don't know!!)

Word count: 0.6 k

“Hey, what are you doing?” he says mindlessly as he’s scrolling down his phone and your head that was resting on his thigh turns the other side to plant a kiss on his belly over the fabric of his shirt.

“Kissing my boyfriend?”

“You’re tickling me, stop”

You mock him and keep kissing him. He huffs out an annoyed breath but doesn’t move neither stop you. To annoy him even more, you pull up the hem of his shirt so you can directly kiss his skin. He keeps ignoring you, he probably likes it but he can’t admit it now that he complained. You pull his waistband down a little to tease a more sensitive area with wet kisses. He shifts a bit in his seat, but is still ignoring you. You won’t stop without breaking him first. You move up a little, so now you’re face to face with his crotch, he steals a glance at you to try and read your intentions but he quickly averts his gaze back to the phone screen when you catch him looking down.

Oh the game is on! With an impish smirk on your lips, you kiss his bulge ever so gently your lips hardly even touch the fabric of his pants. You see his nostrils flare. You give him another kiss, this time with your mouth lingering on his clothed member. Then you take a whiff and let out a sigh. He might be ignoring you but his body could never. Another kiss and you feel his member hardening. You stick your tongue out and lick it over the fabrics and it twitches against your flattened tongue. How cute!

He's probably thinking you’ll give him a good time anyways even if he acts indifferent, he knows your appetite for him. It’s not like he isn’t interested, he just likes to put up a little fight so he has an excuse to later punish you the way you like it. So you decide to give him a good excuse this time. You tug on his waistband and he helps you pull his pants and boxers down to his midthighs.

“You’re such a needy cock slut, you just have to have it, huh?”

You don’t say anything, just look at him through your lashes and give him a smile. You don’t need words to make him regret his behavior. You kiss his thighs and every other patch of exposed skin but his aching cock. Now it’s your turn to ignore him. He’s fully hard now and precum starts to bead at the tip. You give it a lick and his head falls back. As much as you want to devour him, you need to teach him a lesson.

“What time is it?” you ask abruptly.

“Cock sucking time!”

“No, seriously.”

He groans and flips his phone to tell you the time.

“Oh shoot! I’m supposed to meet my friend for coffee in half an hour!”

You get up and walk to the bedroom to change. He’s confused and thinks you’re joking but when minutes later you emerge from the bedroom with an outdoor outfit he realizes what’s happening.

“Are you seriously gonna leave me like this?” he says in disbelief, he seems really upset!

“Sorry baby, now you can get back to your phone without my intrusion.” You wink and leave out the door. You know when you’re back you’ll have a beast to tame and nothing will do it but your sweet sweet pussy.

#skz #lee know #lee know smut #skz smut #skz drabbles #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop #lee know x reader #lee minho smut #lee know imagines #lee know fanfic #lee know drabble #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #oneshot #short fanfic #lee know drabbles

[astraystayyh]

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz oneshots #skz recs #skz reactions #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #minho fluff #minho fanfic #minho angst #skz au #skz x you #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #lee know scenarios #stray kids fic #skz soft hours

[soobnny]

kiss me — lee minho.

trope. established relationship. just fluff and a lot of making out. minho is needy

synopsis. your favorite genre of lee minho is when he’s needy and begging for your kisses after a long exhausting day

word count. 1.4k words

warnings. kind of suggestive but not rly ? just lots of kissing so neck kisses and making out but nothing more

note. i can’t defend myself im sorry minho’s lips r just so pretty and kissable that i had to write about it

You think your favorite genre of Lee Minho is when he’s needy.

He barely makes an appearance, but when he does, he always takes you by full force. It doesn’t help that with this neediness comes a softness that had always been in the boy, but rarely showed.

Now that you’re dating, though, this intertwine of softness and neediness shows a little more often than when you were tiptoeing the thin, undistinguishable line between friends and lovers. It’s different from the care he displays to his friends, where he’s teasing, but you know he’s listening. It’s not quite like the one he shows his family either.

With you comes a particular softness that’s reserved for you only.

Like right now.

It’s an odd hour in the night, just close to midnight when he comes home. It’s the nth time he’s complaining about practice, sputtering loud whines about how coming up with the choreography had taken a much longer time than he had anticipated, stretching practice out longer than usual, and how this could’ve been time to spend with you.

Disdain drips from his tongue as he peels his jacket off of him, shamelessly zipping it down in front of you before tossing it aside in the laundry bin. “Just gonna shower, okay?”

His statement comes accompanied with a kiss to your jaw, and then he’s off to the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long before he’s walking out with wet hair arranged messily over his forehead, and you admit without shame how good he looks shirtless, wearing only a pair of sweatpants with a towel in hand to continue drying his hair.

“Stay awake for me, pretty girl.”

It is with selfishness that Minho asks you to stay up for just a little longer as he searches for a plain shirt to wear to bed. How could he not act on it? He had been thinking of kissing you hours ago, and he couldn’t wait until morning to feel your lips against his.

“Mkay…” He smiles at your persistence to stay awake for him, that gentleness peeking just a little as he takes a mental note of the way you scrunch your nose to keep your yawn in. He’ll save this memory to think about if practice runs a little too long again tomorrow.

The whiff of his laundry detergent is strong enough to peel your eyes open as he places himself beside you on his bed, and automatically, his arm makes its way around your waist.

You wonder what his motive is – it seems like he’s expecting something from the way his fingers tap at your hip, and the way it seems like he’s holding himself back from doing something. But Lee Minho is an impatient man, and it only takes about two minutes before he’s tugging at your shirt, sporting a feigned pout.

And then it all clicks.

You know this is his way of asking you to sit on his lap. Lee Minho has always been much more comfortable with showing his love through acts of service, however, he is still a man in love and in need of physical touch from the one person that matters the most in his life from time to time.

And years of knowing him would teach you that he has always had trouble with voicing his more physical concerns as he has never been outwardly touchy. Those years have also taught you of his little hints.

Like right now, when he’s tugging at your shirt.

A relieved sigh escapes his lips when you finally comply. Especially when most of the time you’d let him fight for it, enjoying the way his face would glow in heftiness over your demands of him telling you what he wants – but you really don’t think he’s in the mood.

He must’ve been so exhausted after practice to allow his neediness to make an appearance, even to the point of a whine almost spilling at his lips when you don’t respond to his tugging right away.

But you’re on his lap now, and that’s what matters the most to him. His hands immediately hike up your shirt, fingers sliding through your bare skin to claim their home in the curves and slopes of your body, the ones he’s memorized all too well.

“My needy boy is so cute.” You giggle.

There’s teasing laced in your voice when he leans down to comfortably rest his head on the crook of your neck, taking your hand and dropping it on his head as a sign for you to run your hand through it.

“Shut up.” Minho grumbles in response, fingers tracing little patterns over the skin he can reach.

He hums in satisfaction when you tug at his hair, the way he likes it, and you feel the ghost of a smile form on his face. When he lifts his hips up, you know it’s another hint that he wants you to move closer than you already were.

“Want me to kiss you?”

“Don’t make me say it.” He groans as he peels his head from your neck, lips moving to press against yours the moment you mention it but you move away just as quickly, dodging away from his kiss.

“So, you don’t want me to kiss you?” Minho’s groans grow louder, grip tightening on your waist gently to tell you what he wants. “(Name), please.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You laugh quietly, leaning forward this time to place a wet peck on his lips.

The simple gesture makes him fumbly, fingers moving to stroke your back before coming back down to caress your waist. Lee Minho is always so vulnerable when you kiss him like that, hands feeling him up after long hours at practice.

He looks at you with so much fondness beneath his hooded eyes before he makes a move to drag his lips down your neck so you don’t take notice of his unusually red face. His damp hair tickles a little, but you don’t mind – not when the sight of the man sitting beneath you, so hazy and soft, was entirely different to the Lee Minho the world thinks they know.

“You did good today.” You tap the back of his neck to get his attention, and almost immediately he’s looking back at you, at your eyes, then at your lips, and back to your eyes.

His eyes are a little blown out, but you can’t quite tell, not when he’s closing them and leaning in to kiss you. And his lips slot against yours perfectly, like they always do, but there’s more fervor and desperation in the way he’s kissing you right now, tongue running over your lower lip just so he can get more of you.

“Not tired yet?” You mumble against his lips, and he simply shakes his head, only pulling away when he can no longer control his breathing. He has a stupid smile on his face.

He allows himself to look at you for a few seconds, and the sight of your gentle smile and your messy hair and the flush pinkess of your lips, and the way you look down at him – mirroring the same amount of love he feels for you.

A sharp breath leaves his nose at the intimacy of the moment, and he’s hit again with just how much he really loves you that he feels the need to say it out loud. He doesn’t say it enough. He thinks he should work on saying it more.

“Love you.” Minho says it so softly, but in the quiet of his bedroom, you hear it clearly.

“I love you too.”

“You love me too?” He still feels the need to verify, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder before moving to work their way back to your lips.

“I do. A lot.”

“Hmmm.” The atmosphere is silent when he pulls away from your skin, head tilted back, open-mouthed and eyes hooded as he breathes you in. “Come give me another kiss.”

And you do.

Lee Minho would never admit out loud, but you’ve got him terrifyingly wrapped around your finger.

He is so, so stupidly in love with you, in a lovesick, comforting kind of way and from the way you’re smiling and giggling right now, he considers giving his needy and soft side more screen time in the future just for you.

And only ever for you.

#k-labels #stray kids fic #minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids lee know #stray kids au #lee know x you #stray kids minho #lee minho #minho fic #minho imagines #minho au #stray kids fluff #minho fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids oneshots #stray kids scenario #lee know scenarios #stray kids imagine #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #lee minho fluff #minho x you #skz minho #stray kids x you #stray kids oneshot #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff

[slvt4felix]

I Could Never Hate You

Pairing -> ninth member!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~3,300 words Includes -> hurt/comfort, angst, enemies to lovers, hyunjin's a meanie, reader has anxiety, minho struggles with his feelings, cringy nickname use, yelling, swearing Summary -> The rest of the group members are over the silly rivalry between you and Minho. They decide to take matters into their own hands. However, their little game takes a turn for the worse when one of the members betrays your trust. Some may call it destiny…the way it leads you straight into the arms of the one you would never expect. Author's Note -> This is my first time posting on here, so hopefully this isn't too rough. Also, I swear I don’t hate Hyunjin. I love him to death. It was just necessary for the plot… anywaysss hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist ♡ Next Part

“I swear to God if you guys don’t open this door right now!” You yell as you pound on the hotel room down the hall from yours. There hasn’t been a reply, but you know that Hyunjin and Felix are in there. The two of them are always locked in their hotel rooms the night before your shows. They try to get as much sleep as possible for the next day.

‘They are definitely laughing their asses off right now,’ you think to yourself. It was just a stupid prank to them. Something to get you and Minho to finally get along again, but they just don’t get it. You had tried for so long to make it work, but Minho was just too stubborn. For heaven’s sake, you guys used to be the best of friends. One day he just started being cruel. Ignoring your texts, saying snarky things under his breath, scoffing every time you accidentally messed a move up. It escalated to the point where you no longer talk anymore. Truly, it is not your fault and they don’t seem to get it. He refuses to say anything about what happened, completely disregarding the fact that you were ever close enough to share your deepest secrets.

You turn around to leave, realizing the two boys were probably never going to open the door. You hear the lock click and spin back to see the annoyingly beautiful face of Felix. Although he wasn’t outright laughing at you, he was putting little effort in trying to hide his smile.

“Hey, what are you so upset for? I didn’t notice anything wrong on the bus earlier?” Felix asks. You just stare back dumbfounded.

“Why the fuck would you ever put me in a room with him?” you spit pushing past Felix into his room, “Don’t you dare look at me like that, you know how he treats me.”

Hyunjin just looks at you from his spot on a queen bed closest to the window. He looks shocked, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually put up a fight against the sleeping arrangements.

"How is that our fault?" Hyunjin questions. He seems like he may be genuinely asking, but you know him better than that. You have always been closer to him than the other members, especially after all the things that went down with Minho. Hyunjin was always the one to comfort you. The first to step up when your anxiety got to be too much. So, it was obvious that the members did have something to do with it, and it wasn't just an unfortunate fluke.

"I saw the way you guys all ran to claim your rooms while I was still collecting my suitcase. Don't act stupid. I know you know what's going on," you say back in hopes to get him to at least explain what their plan was. Maybe you could reason with them and get one of the boys to switch. Heck, you'd even be willing to sleep on the couch in Hyunjin and Felix's room, but it's starting to seem like they don't even want you in their room in the first place.

You hear Felix close the door behind you, but it's all blocked out as you watch Hyunjin roll his eyes at you. While this may seem like a typical Hyunjin action, it just didn't feel right. He tries to be more gentle with you than the other boys. After confiding many of your secrets and insecurities in him, he knows to control his face around you. Yet, it's beginning to look like he's forgotten all about that tonight.

"Yeah, I'm the stupid one..." he mumbles under his breath. With every sentence exchanged, the tension in the room grows thicker. You almost feel bad putting the other poor boy in the room through this. You can practically feel him stiffen with every word spoken.

"Hyunjin-" Felix starts but is cut off by a sharp look from the man himself. You know it's starting to go too far if Felix is getting upset, but Hyunjin doesn't seem to care.

"Why are you so angry right now?" you ask him, praying the question doesn't fire him up more. Maybe he's just having a really bad day, or maybe he just wants to be alone and can't deal with your problems.

"I'm not angry," he starts, "you're just making a big deal out of absolutely nothing." By the end of it he begins to raise his voice, another thing he knows you aren't a fan of. You take a step back, a little confused at his ignorance. He's been with you through all the fights, why doesn't he understand how big of a deal this is to you?

As you're still trying to make sense of his previous statement, his voice quiets down, and he looks back down at his phone as he whispers, "Just like you always do."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you ask, scared for the response. He glances up sharply, making true eye contact for the first time tonight.

"You're always crying over stupid shit, and I really can't handle it anymore,” he states angrily, his eyes not leaving yours the entire time. He finally breaks eye contact, and the tension explodes, painting the whole room red.

As dramatic as it sounds, it's like a knife to your heart, or perhaps more accurately a stab in the back. You know exactly what he means by that. It's like he was aiming for your most sensitive spots. With your anxiety, you tend to panic over things that don't usually matter much in other people's minds. Every time you have an anxiety attack or are just freaking out about something, you usually try to hide it. You worry that your friends won't take you seriously or will make fun of you over something they consider 'not a big deal'. You've confided in Hyunjin over this topic before. He's helping you get over that and come to them when you need help. So why is he now turning on you? Was it all an act before?

You feel your eyes start to tear up, but you hold them back. He cannot see you cry.

"Fuck you," you say, attempting to put venom behind it, but all that comes out is your shaky voice.

"Y/n, wait," Felix says sympathetically as you go to leave the room. Normally, you would stop and let Felix comfort you, but suddenly everything is feeling just a little too heavy and you can't seem to look him in the eye any longer. You stride out of the room, keeping your shoulders straight without even glancing back. You just need to stay strong until you make it into the hallway. You slam the door behind you despite typically being the one to argue when the other members to it. Your eyes are blurring too fast at this point to even recognize the fact that you probably should've shut it a bit quieter. It is a hotel and noise complaints are a thing, but, honestly, that is the least of your worries at the moment. You just keep replaying back the fight in your head trying to figure out what you did wrong. It had to be something, right?

You start down the hallway, cursing when you realize your room is at the other end of the hall. You hope the other boys can't hear your sobs, especially the two you just departed from. As much as you want to be comforted, it feels like you're past the point of no return and just want to be alone. You try to stifle your cries a bit with your hand, but it doesn't do much. You're heads getting a little too light, you're breathing getting harder to control. Your hands are shaking, and it seems like the crying is just starting. Some may call you sensitive, but when the tears start you simply begin to spiral. There's very little that can calm you down at that point. Hyunjin usually has to take you somewhere and help you take deep breaths especially before your concerts. But he's the one who started this mess. So, what are you supposed to do now?

You finally make it to your hotel room, barely being able to read the numbers, and you start to dig around in your pockets. You start to panic as you struggle to find your key card, but eventually you grasp the small rectangular piece of plastic and open the door.

Once inside, you shut the door, a bit calmer this time, and fall back against it. The only thing on your mind being the fact that you are finally in your own room, alone. You put your hands over your face, trying to quiet some of your senses. In the haste to get out of the situation, you completely failed to remember the problem that had started it all.

Minho is sitting in one of the beds; he had plenty of time to choose considering you just dropped your suitcase off and stormed off upon realizing the two of you would be rooming together. He's all cozy in his sweat pants and t-shirt, obviously thankful for your abrupt disappearance. He looks up, shocked to see you re-entering the room. He plans to make a jab of some sort, but immediately pauses upon seeing your state. It seems like you haven't even noticed that he's in there yet. He's never really seen you like this before, or at least not since he started pushing you away. Putting that aside, he accepts defeat realizing that you need someone. You need him.

Your eyes are covered as you cry quietly into your hands, pushing your head back into the wood behind you. You flinch slightly upon feeling strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you away from the hard door. However, you soon relax into the arms, enjoying the feeling of safety flood your system. The man is warm and gentle as he presses you against him, pushing your head into the crook of his neck.

"Follow my breathing," he whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps from your head to your toes. You try to listen to him, but all of your senses are so overwhelmed that you can't seem to focus on anything. Feeling like a fool, you begin to cry harder, immediately sending you back to the fight with Hyunjin.

"Honey," he starts, "you just have to take a deep breath. I don't want you to pass out on me." Hearing the quiet voice in your ear helps bring your mind back to the present. Trying to focus on the instructions, you begin to notice the chest rising and falling slowly against yours. You can even feel the man's calm heart beat against your racing one.

Following the normally simple order, you try to take a deeper inhale resulting in a few hiccups and more tears. One of the arms around your shoulder falls and his hand begins to rub your back gently. As you focus on the sensation, your breathing starts to even out, just as Minho had hoped.

Once you are in a slightly better state, he moves you over to the bed. Setting you down on the edge, he kneels in front of you and softly pulls your hands away from your face. You instinctively bow your head, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep from facing the man in front of you.

Minho reaches his hand out, bringing your face back up towards his. You slowly open your eyes at the gentle touch. He's looking right back at you, a soft expression covering his face. He hasn't looked at you like that in years. He practically lights up when your eyes meet his.

A smile grows on his face, as he quietly says, "There you go, kitten." Your face flushes at the nickname, and you hear Minho giggle softly at your blushing cheeks. He used to call you that all the time. A fan had once greeted the two of you at a fan meet saying how you both had the same energy as cats. So from that day on, he had called you that nickname constantly, earning well-deserved teasing from the other boys. Yet, it had all stopped out of nowhere.

'He doesn't care about you anymore,' you remind yourself. You pull away from him roughly and stand up from the bed. You take a few steps away from him, the comfort you had felt being ripped away in seconds. This was too confusing. He can't ignore you for years and suddenly act normal. That isn't how this works.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you ask him, just wanting some sort of explanation. He slowly stands up, his soft look from before transforming into a look of pure regret.

"What are you talking about? You're upset and I care about you," he calmly explains, obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. But you can see it in his eyes; the nerves, the regret, and the sadness painting itself across his irises.

"You hate me,” you say, leaving no room for discussion. You were sick of being left in the dark and being turned on. You just want to know, what happened?

"You don't really believe that do you?" he asks as his body language changes. He reaches a hand up, pulling a little too roughly against his hair as he looks down at the ground.

"I mean-" you start to say but are cut off by a small sniffle coming from across you.

The culprit looks up at you again, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Minho never cries. It's just one of those things. So he wipes them away and says the last words you would ever imagine him speaking to you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers genuinely, "I never meant to make you feel that way, but I guess that's what it's come to, hasn't it?"

You stand stiffly, staring at him. You had never seen the man look so defeated. You are even more confused about where the two of you stand than you have ever been.

"But I don't get it, you're just so mean. I don't know how you couldn't hate me."

"I could never hate you,” he states staring at you. His eyes are so deep that you can see exactly what he's feeling, and you realize, this is it. He's an open book. This may be the one time you get to see under the surface of Lee Minho since those days of friendship all those years ago.

"Then why did you push me away?" you ask, taking advantage of his state.

"I was just so scared. I thought you would hate me if you found out..." he trails off. You simply wait for him to finish his sentence, but he never does. He just looks back at you in hopes that you understand what he's trying to say. A silence builds, and Minho takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I love you and I was just too scared in case it would ruin the group," he says, finally letting the truth escape after years of secrets. The shock of the statement leaves you speechless, simply staring at your old best friend.

After a few seconds of building tension, you can’t help but start to giggle, leading to near hysterics with more tears springing to your eyes. You had thought you had cried all of them out, but it looks like you were wrong. There's no way that's the reason. If only he had been honest with his feelings, then you would've never been in this situation in the first place.

He looks surprised at your laughing, and his whole body seems to deflate.

'Hopefully he doesn't think I'm laughing at him', you think. There's no way they had messed up communication that bad to let it get to this point.

"You should have said that, Minho. I was so in love with you," you state gently, trying not to bewilder the poor man. He looks up, and there's pure excitement on his face. It's beautiful to see compared to his earlier expressions, and you're reminded of all those little reasons you love him. All those reasons that have been buried down due to his obliviousness.

"Really?" he says, taking a step closer to you. Your cheeks heat up upon realizing that you really did just reveal one of your darkest secrets.

He takes another step closer, his face now only inches from yours. You feel his arms wrap sweetly around your waist. You glance down at his lips; they're slightly chapped, but honestly, it's just all part of what makes Minho, Minho. Your eyes go back up to meet his, and you can see the tension and nerves drawn upon his face. You quickly close the distance, making the decision you should have made all those years ago.

Minho doesn't pull away, instead immediately melting into the kiss, bringing one hand up to delicately cup your cheek. This may be one of the softest moments you have ever witnessed from Minho, and man do you want more.

You don't kiss for long, it's short and sweet, but it means so much more. Within it is everything you had wished you could've said to each other since the beginning.

You both pull back, a laugh leaving both of your mouths as you take in how outrageous the situation is. He pulls you close again, his head falling on your shoulder.

"I promise, I will never ever treat you like that again. You mean so much to me," he whispers. You bring a hand up to pet the back of his hair, pulling back just enough to give him a kiss on the cheek.

The two of you eventually pull away as your eyelids begin to droop. You realize how late it has gotten, neither of you noticing with all the drama that has unfolded. You quickly change into your pajamas and get ready to go to sleep.

You end up in the same bed with your head lying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair. Despite how sleepy you both feel, you know there is so much more to talk about and neither of you will be able to fall asleep.

Minho breaks the silence, asking you the dreaded question, "So, what happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"Hyunjin and I fought. He said some very hurtful things." I reply sadly, the memories of the fight resurfacing.

"You two are so close, I'm sure he didn't mean it. You know how upset he gets when we’re on tour for so long. He gets aggravated having to be around us all the time, but it was still messed up for him to be so mean to you."

You laugh at his response, "Yeah, like you can talk."

"Hey!" he says dramatically. You both giggle, and despite the tough topic, the tension seems to melt away. It always used to be that way with Minho. It's as if the two of you were made for each other. Everything just felt so much better and easier around him. Suddenly, everything in life was a lot sweeter.

"But seriously, don't worry about it too much, kitten. Felix will take care of it, and Hyunjinnie will be running back to you by the morning."

Part 2 out now!

#slvt4felix #stray kids #skz #lee know #hyunjin #felix #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #enemies to lovers #hurt/comfort #skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #stray kids ninth member #skz ninth member #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member #lee minho

[minhosimthings]

Kitty Love || 18+

Synopsis: Minho fucking a baby into you, in throws of anger and jealousy

Pairings: husband!Minho × wife!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, angry sex, jealous sex, sex with plot, this is basically porn, breeding kink, p in v, Minho wants to fuck a baby into reader, unprotected sex (highly not recommended for you), volume control, kinda fluffy at the end

A/N: I need Minho to fuck a baby into me right now so... Have this instead

"Do you know how many people would have liked this dress on their bedroom floor tonight, kitten?"

"Minho I wasn't-"

"Shut it."

And yet again, yet another 'important buisness party' that Minho had to attend, completely forgetting your anniversary. And of course, as his trophy-good-for-nothing wife, you had to tag along, in a dress which was 'modest' enough to not attract all the other pig headed men at that event.

A married woman wearing a high slit dress, off shoulder dress? Certainly not! Scandalous, even.

And for Minho, it was more than just anger that flee through him as his eyes lay on all the disgusting men staring at your thighs all evening.

"Minho would you stop screaming and listen to me for once?" You cried, slamming your hand on the table. You were done with him, forgetting a day which was special and screaming at you for doing absolutely nothing.

His composure is sickly, every breath he takes - laboured and drawn out as he pushes himself closer to you, like he's trying to meld himself against you - seems to taunt you.

"we can have a 'fucking conversation' or we can start fucking," he grunts, rolling his hips into you as he watches your eyes roll in frustration, though not enough to mask the tell tale signs of arousal evident on you - a sheen of sweat glistening on your collarbone and highlighting your lust blown pupils.

"that's my girl," he grins, pushing your panties to the side and rubbing his digits through your slick, circling his index finger around your hole before plunging two in to prep you for his dick.

Your breath hitches as he begins to finger you, back arching off the bed as you try your best to remain impassive, unwilling to give him the emotional satisfaction of 'winning' the argument just because you let him get his dick wet.

With an arrogant smirk still residing on his features, he pulls his dick out - longer than it was thick, his tip cut and a blushing pink - teasing you with the head by slapping it on your soaked folds before slipping it in and groaning.

A stifled whine escapes through your sealed lips, the sound muted and restrained but desperate enough for coryo to hear and throb inside of you as he continues to sheath himself further.

"know it feels good kitten, y'dont have to hide," he taunts, patronising and knowing without a doubt that you're still mad and as a consequence refuse to explicitly vocalise any pleasure.

His thrusts start deep and slow, hitting that spot inside of you each time to chip away any composure you thought you had, your own forearm hiding tears of pleasure brimming at your waterline for how deep he was going, an abundance of emotions - alongside the sharp contrast of anger and pleasure - leave you feeling feverish and flush with confusion as he stimulates your most sensitive erogenous zones.

He coos at your dazed expression, your face ruddy and warm as he successfully fucks the anger out of you, quelling any urges you may have to shout by leaving you stupid and vulnerable due to the warmth of him inside you coupled with his measured, languid strokes.

Your hands are trembling. Your legs are shaking. Your chest is heaving. And the nickname sits on the tip of your tongue, yet you swallow it down.

"You really wanted to test me huh kitten?" Minho grunts, "Wearing that cute little slut outfit."

"Who said I was wearing it for you?"

“God, you’re such a fucking brat,” he sneers, tightening his hold on your hips before resuming his unrelenting pace. Thick cock stretching you open like it's the first time. “Fine. You want me to be jealous? Want me to say that I won’t share you with all those other men?”

And even if he’s mocking you, the thought has your pussy clenching. 

“Maybe I don’t want to share you,” he continues, although a bit softer. As though speaking to himself. “Maybe I won’t. Won’t fucking share you with any of them.”

“Gonna fuck my cum so deep into this pussy…you have my baby,” he exhales. “So then they know who you really belong to, yeah?”

“Is that what you want?” Another slap to your clit. “Wanna have my babies, kitten? Wanna carry me around? Wanna know that you own a part of me?”

You can’t think straight. Can’t fathom what he’s really saying to you, but it’s everything. Delicious and dirty and somehow, exactly what you need.

“Yeah? Oh, I know,” he nearly coos, and you feel his cock twitch. He’s close. “Then I’ll let you. Let you have my babies. Get you so pretty and pregnant. Make you mine—”

“Minho!,” you gasp before you’re cumming harder than you think you have in weeks. Flinging your arms around his neck in order to keep him as close as possible.

He’s beautiful. And he feels like heaven. It’s all you can truly comprehend as the warmth spreads through your cunt and makes a home in your pussy. As he keeps it there even long after you’ve both come back down.

"Still mad at me?" Minho mumbles into your ear, kissing the top of your forehead as both of you lay, sweating and euphonious on the bed.

You say nothing and grunt in response, cuddling closer to him, to catch all of his warmth.

"Don't worry kitten." Minho chuckles, "We'll have our anniversary tomorrow." You doze off to sleep under the tone of his voice, "A proper anniversary."

#minho #skz lee minho #skz lee minho smut #lee minho #skz lee know #skz lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee know smut #lee know #skz smut drabble #skz smut imagines #minho smut #minho smut fics #minho smut drabbles #minho smut oneshot #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids smut drabble #stray kids minho #skz smut fics #skz smut drabbles #skz smut oneshots #bye bye now

[mykoreanlove]

The cat's revenge

Your eyes shot open. Finally. The last day of your self-imposed sex ban was finally over.

You turned around and faced your boyfriend who was still sound asleep. His behavior had surprised you – Minho had begged for the first couple of days but then he just gave up and accepted his fate, never mentioning it again. You wondered how it was so easy for him, giving up sex like that.

You masked your frustration as best as you could, it was your ban after all. His behavior needed to be punished but most of the times it felt like you were the one that was suffering the most.

Minho slowly opened his eyes and smiled softly. “Baby, are you up?” He put his arms around you and hugged you tightly. The last two weeks were not only depleted of sex but rather every kind of contact that went beyond a peck. Minho nuzzled into you and sighed happily. “I missed this. I missed you, y/n.”

The butterflies in your stomach awoke as well, turning you into a mess in seconds. He placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Let’s not fight like that ever again, please.”

“Agreed”, you mumbled as your hands touched his body. God, you missed feeling his chiseled abs. You missed your fingers trailing down his v-line. You let out a quiet gasp as your fingers traced over his bulge, already stone-hard.

Minho tilted your face up and looked into your eyes deeply. You could have sworn you saw them sparkle more than usual. “Let’s not rush it, baby. Why don’t I take you out for dinner tonight and after that, we uh, continue where we left of two weeks ago?”

He jumped out of the bed and went to shower while you lay in bed cheerily.

The ban worked perfectly, look how sorry he is. I think this was a great idea after all.

Empowering music was blasting through the stereo as you were getting ready for your date. You took a long bubble bath, shaved everywhere and applied scented lotion all over your body. You were so ready for tonight. Your body was covered in the dress he loved the most, your neck sprayed in the most seductive perfume while your face was slightly tinted in different colors. You felt like a goddess ready to be worshipped after so long. Minho knocked on the door and entered slowly.

“Baby, are you ready?”

He was holding a giant bouquet of flowers, red roses to be precise. “Are those for me?” It took him a minute to answer as he was eyeing you up and down, too flabbergasted to speak. Minho cleared his throat hastily. “Yeah, uh, they are. God, I don’t know why I feel so nervous. It’s like our first date all over again.” You chuckled, feeling the same way.

“Baby, you look mesmerizing. Absolutely mesmerizing.”

You took the flowers out of his hands and kissed his check. “So do you, Min.”

He had made a reservation in your favorite restaurant, spoiling you with steak and red wine. You didn’t even notice the stares of the other guests as you two were too engulfed with each other.

You had missed this so much. The sex ban was a risky idea, one that stirred up a lot of controversy among your peers. Your friends warned you about this – withholding sex as a form of punishment was just as shitty of you, but you were desperate for revenge. Minho needed to be put in his place and luckily it all worked itself out.

“Do you want dessert?”

You smirked and got up to leave. “Yeah. But not the kind they’re serving here.”

The desperation for each other was immense, you barely made it to your bedroom. “Min”, you mumbled in between passionate kisses. “Yeah, kitty?”

“I want you. Now. Fuck me now.”

He shook his head as he put you down on the kingsize bed. “Kitty, right now I wouldn’t survive two seconds in your exquisite pussy. I’d combust instantly after what you put me through. No, let me take care of you first.”

He had that devious look in his eyes - the one that made you afraid for your life but also as horny as ever. He stripped you naked and hovered over you, placing wet kisses all over your body.

“Spread your legs for me”, he instructed quietly. He let out a gasp as you did, admiring your pussy for minutes.

“Kitty, look how wet you are.”

He traced his fingers through your blinds, collecting your juices on his middle finger. “All for me, huh?” Minho put his finger in his mouth and sucked on it, his eyes rolling back from pleasure. Seeing him like that was such a turn on. “Min”, you whined desperately. “Take care of me, now.”

He snapped back to reality and pumped his fingers into you – starting with one and adding two more. He was slipping in and out in a steady motion, getting you ready in minutes. He hovered in between your legs and watched you breathe quicker, your breasts heaving up and down. Minho curved his fingers, hitting all the right spots as you moaned excessively.

He could read you like a book, knowing damn well that you were close to coming undone.

“Min”, your moans filled the bedroom, which filled him with joy. “Min”, you whimpered his name. “MIN-“

And just like that he took out his fingers, making you open your eyes in irritation.

“Why did you stop? I was about to cum”, you whined in annoyance.

Minho chuckled. “Sorry Kitty, not yet. I want to make you cum real hard after those two weeks. Will you let me?”

He didn’t even wait for your reply as his lips landed on your throbbing core, licking his way to your clit. Your hands grabbed his long hair instantly and pulled on it, you felt the vibration of his grunts in your pussy. His tongue was quickly switching places between your clit and entrance, making you squirm from overstimulation. Your thighs clasped around his head, which made him go faster, making you dizzy from all the sensations.

“Min”, you moaned again, “Min wait, this is too much. I-“

Quickly, he pulled down his pants and thrusted into you – hard and rapidly. Your breath got caught in between your moans, he was stretching you out as much as he could.

His lips were on your ear as he thrusted, his animalistic grunts were the only sounds you were able to hear. Your body was on fire, but you were too far gone to notice.

All you cared about was your release, all you cared about was Minho fucking you into oblivion. But this time something was off.

Minho knew exactly what he had to do to make you cum in seconds, he knew your body better than you did yourself. Yet, this time he was working around it, eliciting all the spots that made you weak but never truly igniting them. Instead, he was irritating them.

Minho pulled out and slapped your clit with the tip of his cock, turning you into an even bigger mess. Tears started to roll down your cheeks as pleasure mixed with pain. Minho grabbed the vibrator he had gifted you last Christmas and turned it on to the highest level, holding it to your swollen clit. Your felt your body shaking, you lost all control over its movements.

“Min”, you cried. “Min, it’s too much. Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Kitty, kitty, kitty”, he whispered into your ear condescendingly. “What do you want?”

“Cum”, was the only word you were able to mutter in that state.

“Oh, is that so?”

You nodded.

“I’ll give you what you want kitty. Under one circumstance though.”

You would have agreed to anything right now. Your body felt like it was electrocuted – with vibrations, sensations and oxytocin. You nodded forcefully, not even questioning what he wanted of you.

Minho traced the vibrator along your folds and pushed it inside you, making you arch your back from pleasure. “I’ll make you cum kitty but only if you promise me to never use sex against me ever again.”

All you heard was cum and promise, ignoring the rest blindly. “Yes”, you huffed out. “Yes.”

Your boyfriend pulled the vibrator out of you and pushed himself into your heated core, thrusting into you as hard as he could. You felt the heat waves crush over you, stars blinding your vision. Minho’s voice in your ear: “Promise me, baby.”

You gathered your remaining strength and kissed him forcefully, promising him to never do such a thing ever again.

Content with himself, he gave you what you craved. You came multiple times, this had to be the most intensive orgasm you had ever felt with him. It felt like you were high for hours, jerking and shaking, too invested in the blankness of your mind.

Minho held you in his arms tenderly and waited for you to come down before he cleaned you up and pulled the blankets over you. You fell asleep instantly, this sexual encounter was too much for you to bear.

Minho however was beyond pleased. He whispered declarations of love into your ear while placing sweet kisses on your forehead. “You did so well for me, kitty. I am so proud of you.” He pushed strands of hair behind your ears and watched you sleep peacefully.

“You have no idea how much I love you. Only you, my adorable baby. Only you.” Your boyfriend’s swollen lips landed on the tip of your nose, smooching you once more in the most adorable way. Everybody knew how much he cared for you, how much he loved you – even if his ways of portraying that were very bizarre at times.

“Let’s not ever fight like this again, okay?” He nuzzled into you and closed his eyes, joining you in some restful sleep. “You learned your lesson, didn’t you?”

______________________________________________________

@maximumkillshot @weareapackofstrays @lieslovefantasy @thatonenoona @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @livzsposts @i2nsstuff @n3tunobellah @redstayrosie @straykidsholicleigh @notastraykid @astayinwonderland @hanjisung-enjoyer @nicolechingish @sassyhumancoppainter @got-me-seein-stars @kairinne @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @kkamismom12 @xoxominghxe @f3rr0-fluid @straykidsholicleigh @xoxominghxe

i hope i got u all if not please share <3

#mykoreanlove #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz smut #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know smut #minho x you #minho angst #minho x reader #minho smut #minho stray kids #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz lee know #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshots #lee know #kpop smut #stray kids

[hyunverse]

ways he shows you he loves you ☆ lee know.

lee know x gn!reader. just teeth-rotting fluff. 353 words.

love, to lee minho, isn't just expressed in three words.

to minho, love is when he peels you oranges, arranged in the shape of a heart when he presents it to you. he'd feed you one, kiss your forehead and leave the plate on the table whenever he sees you stressing over work.

love is the way he tries to make you laugh by leaving sticky notes around the house, each one containing a random joke or doodles of jureumi. he tries to convey love whenever he slips a note into your lunchbox, the words "eat well," written on the paper. minho hopes that these notes will make you smile throughout the day.

it's love when he shields you on rainy days, whether it be with an umbrella or his jacket. his needs are pushed aside then, his number one priority being your comfort. the raven doesn't mind the rainfall drenching the back of his tee as he pulls you close to him, using his leather jacket to shield your head.

minho takes your health seriously. he doesn't even allow jokes about you falling sick, he's sure to send daggers your way when you do. he ensures all your meals are eaten, going as far as ordering delivery for you if you're too busy. your favourite meals are written down in his notes, preferred restaurants starred in his delivery app. on off days, minho enjoys cooking for you. he adores the entire process of it — from buying groceries with you, and cooking as you hold him from behind. but most importantly, he loves feeding you your first bite and seeing a smile appear on your pretty face. <3

love is also the way he incorporates you in his morning routine. he wakes up, and kisses you on the forehead before getting ready. another kiss to the lips before he leaves for work. though it's become a habit, you've never doubted the sincerity of the kisses. you could feel it in the tenderness of each kiss.

lee minho loves you — how could you doubt it when he lovingly shows signs in all his actions?

disclaimer — © 2024 hyunverse on tumblr. all rights reserved. authors works are protected under the copyright law. do not plagiarize or translate my works. tumblr is my only platform.

taglist — @zoe8stay @starlostseungmin @hwajin @sleepyleeji @jdopes-recorder @sherryblossom @alyszaen @hyunluvxo @bokk-minnie @ghostyycat7 @fortunatelyhertragedy @yongbokkari @ameliesaysshoo @seoli-16 @jisungsdaydreamer @soobnny @seolboba @in2heartz @jehhskz @astraystayyh @mnwrld

networks — @k-labels @straykidsland @skzstarnet @kflixnet

#k-labels #kflixnet #straykidsland #lee know #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know imagines #lee know oneshots #lee know drabbles #minho x reader #lee know x yn #lee know fanfics #lee know fluff #lee know imagine #lee know drabble #lee know oneshot #minho fluff #minho x yn #minho imagines #minho x you

[thewonandonly]

14:11 — tw: obsessive fan behavior | heavily inspired by this twitter post 🫶🏻 it's so great pls watch it

you could see minho's shifty eyes through the camera. he was beautiful, but there was a huge gap between the two of you, and it wasn't just the stage.

you've used your own personal fundings just to get to the concert, and you had to find your own way to get to the front just to lock eyes with minho. and everytime you did, you know he remembers you.

you haven't done anything too out of line, you haven't followed him home, or even analyzed the background of his selcas and arrive to where he posted it. that was just improbable, and you definitely didn't want to risk being blacklisted and not seeing your one true twin flame.

minho began to whisper to the other members, pulling the mic away from his face and covering it with his hand before they all collectively moved minho to the other side, away from you.

but, the good thing about a camera, is that you could just slightly move to get a view of him and zoom in.

once upon a time, you and minho used to have some great times in your parasocial relationship with the idol. he used to pose for the camera, and he used you wave at you and ask you how you were doing.

you wonder why he's been giving you the shifty eyes recently.

probably one of those damned netizens said something about you. probably said that you were a sasaeng. but you were far from it, if anything, you were the opposite of a sasaeng. you just wanted to have one intimate moment with your idol, even if it's a little wave.

that's where the camera comes in. to catch anything you see on tape. whether it be to another, or to you, you would capture it and watch that singular clip over, and over, and over, and over.

minho, despite being on the opposite side, still kept giving you looks, almost like you were going to pounce on him, like you were going to try to get him to interact with you even in the tiniest way.

he could almost describe your smile as... terrifying, a bit horrifying, even. out of all the stay in the crowd, you were the only one with an old video camera, not screaming, rather recording everything and smiling to yourself.

there was so much he could say was wrong with the sight, but, he decided it best to push it out of his mind and enjoy the other's company and interact with other stay.

and he could tell, just by sitting down on the stage, across from other stay and holding their hands, that you did not enjoy that.

copyright © 2022 the-wonandonly. all rights reserved.

#can i be honest with yall #THAT TWIT EDIT HAS BEN STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR MONTHS #ITS SO GOOD #lee minho #lee know #minho scenarios #minho smut #minho reactions #minho oneshots #minho blurb #minho timestamp #minho imagines #minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids reactions #stray kids oneshot #stray kids blurbs #stray kids timestamps #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #the-wonandonly #q

[skzstannie]

"I've been wanting to do that for so long"

SKZ -> Minho x fem!reader

genre: best friends to lovers, fluffffffy wc: ~1,200 cw: none :)

summary: You and Minho are finally able to make something of his consistent flirty behavior.

A/N: Hiii! A little shorter than normal, but I wanted to get something out while I work on the requests I have. Hope everyone is doing well! Please feel free to leave feedback in the comments and like/reblog- it's truly appreciated!

Also, I know a lot of you like the angst, but don't worry! The request I'm working on has lots of it 👀👀

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

"Please tell me we don't have to watch another one of your chick flicks tonight," Minho groans, walking into the living room from the kitchen, two bowls of popcorn in hand.

"Of course we do, do you even know me?" you tease, sinking back further into the couch. You watch as he crosses in front of you, gently setting the bowls down on the table before throwing himself down onto the couch beside you.

It's your and Minho's weekly movie night, and the two of you decided to do it at your apartment this week. Not that the dorms aren't a fun hangout place, it's just sometimes your sensitive eardrums need a break.

The two of you have been friends for forever; you actually met back in elementary school. Your box of crayons was missing the pink one, and Minho became your knight in shining armor when he valiantly and bravely gave you his. From then on, he's been by your side. Need an errand buddy to run to the store with? Minho will come. Need someone to edit your college essay? Minho will do it. Need someone to cry with you on your couch once a week while you indulge yourself in different romantic fantasies? You know Minho will be there every time.

You try not to subject him to your rom coms every week, but it's so easy and fun to immerse yourself in other people's love lives, even if just for an hour and a half.

Your love life is close to non-existent. Minho, and occasionally his band members, are the only male interactions you ever get. You're not necessarily the most outgoing person, so it's hard for you to meet new people.

Not that you're necessarily complaining, I mean, you're so grateful for the friendship you have with Minho, but sometimes you wish it was more than that. His consistent teasing doesn't help your constant delusions. He's always flirting with you, calling you pet names and telling you how beautiful you are. You know it's nothing more than teasing, so you try not to let it affect you.

"How about this one?" you ask him, hovering over The Kissing Booth. You've seen it a million times, but it's one of your favorites; you'll never pass up an opportunity to watch it.

"I couldn't be more indifferent," he comments dryly. You roll your eyes at him and press play, playfully tossing the remote at his side.

"Do that again and I'm snatching it up and changing it," he glances at you, his face blank of emotion. You keep your eyes on the screen, holding back a smirk.

As emotionless as your best friend could come off sometimes, you know he always means well. You are more similar than you'd like to admit, and you know just as well how hard showing other's your emotions can be.

~ ~ ~

"Haven't we watched this one before?" Minho interrupts, his finger pointing accusingly at the screen.

"Maybe..."

"You've got to be kidding me. Where's that damn remote?" his hands sweep over the couch cushions in the dark room, and he looks to you when he comes up with nothing. His narrow eyes meet your innocent ones. "Give me it. I am not watching this one again; it was terrible."

"You didn't think it was terrible 10 minutes ago when your eyes were practically glued to the screen," you counter, holding the remote tightly in your clasped hands.

He scoffs, reaching out towards you. His fingers grasp around your arm and give you a rough pull, making you topple over into him. You let out an embarrassing squawk when you both slip to the floor in your impromptu wrestling match.

You find yourself underneath him, his hands still pulling roughly at the remote.

"Give it to me!"

"No! I want to watch this!"

The struggle continues for a few moments, you desperately trying to protect the remote while Minho sits above you, practically manhandling you.

In a quick lapse of judgement, you let up a little, allowing Minho to pin your hands to the ground above your head. Both of you are breathless as you lay beneath him, a playful smirk gracing the beautiful face in front of you.

Your eyes are wide as you lay there. You expect him to get off you, but he doesn't. He unwaveringly holds his position above you.

You catch his big brown eyes switch between your eyes and your lips, and you feel your breath hitch in your throat when he leans down slightly.

It's silent between the two of you as he slowly comes closer, his gaze remaining on your lips.

Your heart drops when he brings his lips to your ear instead. "I win," he whispers, before casually plucking the remote from your previously pinned hands. He gets off you, adjusting his clothes before he plops back on the couch, immediately exiting out of the movie.

You lay there another moment, thinking about what the heck just happened and whether you're going to let him get away with it.

You sit up abruptly, staring at him with disbelief. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" his gaze remains on the T.V. screen, and you find his nonchalance irritating.

"What do you mean, 'What'?"

"We wrestle all the time, what are you on about?"

Your jaw drops at his statement. "Yes, we do, but not- not like that," you let out a flustered chuckle, shaking your head at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." When he speaks this time, you're able to catch the slightest upturn of his lips.

"You're messing with me," you tell him, not believing his actions could've been all innocent.

He finally breaks his gaze away from the T.V., setting the remote down beside him. "Now why would I do that?"

"Because- because that's what you do! You're sarcastic, and you're sly, and- and..." your frustration gets the best of you, and you bring your hands up to cover your face. You feel your cheeks burn red with embarrassment.

"What did you think was going to happen? Did you want me to kiss you like Noah did to Elle?"

You rip your hands away from your face at that, your jaw dropping at his suggestion. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," his voice is steady, his eye contact strong as he stands his ground. "We've been doing this long enough. I just want to know if this is reciprocated."

"If what's reciprocated?"

"You know, this- this thing between us. Is it reciprocated? Like, do you like like me like I like like you?" He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for an answer you're hesitant to give.

"You're not messing with me?" you're cautious as the question leaves your lips.

"No, I'm not. How can I spell it out for you," he pauses, bringing a hand up to his chin in an exaggerated manner. "I like you. I have a crush on you. I want to be your boyfriend. I-"

"Ok, ok!" you cut him off with a laugh, "I do."

"You like me back?"

"Yea, yea I do."

His actions are quick as he drops to his knees on the floor in front of you. He rushes you, his body moving over yours. His hands grasp your wrists, pushing them above your head.

His legs rest on either side of your hips, pinning you down.

"Ok, let's try this again then."

You let yourself get lost in his eyes as he leans down towards you again.

When his face is close enough for his nose to rest against yours, he brings his lips to yours.

He pulls away when your both breathless, a look of mirth on his face.

"I've been wanting do that for so long."

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know #lee minho #skz minho #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #best friends to lovers #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios

[hanjisick]

yandere!stray kids reaction to … your confession.

warning. this is not how i portray the members of stray kids or how you should either. this is purely for entertainment purposes.

cw. alcohol. implied murder. stalking. kidnapping. manipulation.

bang chan.

it was late at night. he had just taken you out on an ice cream date, and now you both were lingering on the doorstep of your home, trying to make the last few moments last forever.

“i think that i might like you, no, i think this is love, chan.”

his heart raced at the confession, but he didn’t hesitate to reply.

“i love you too, y/n.”

he would go home thinking about this moment, his stomach full of nervous butterflies.

the first thing he would do is clutch the tank top that he had stolen from you in his hands, sniffing the material and thinking back to that beautiful moment.

this was all part of the plan. once you finally loved him, it would be so easy to just take you.

and that’s exactly what he planned to do.

lee know

you would’ve been minho’s girl for long before falling in love with the monster. i mean, how could you love this man? even if he was obsessed with you, to the point of being more than willing to spill blood for you, the thought of loving him was terrifying.

but slowly, through months upon months of losing your mind, it would’ve been while he was cooking dinner for the two of you.

his back was facing you as you sat on top of the counter, swinging your legs back and forth.

something about the way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he measured ingredients, or the knife in his hand as he crushed the garlic.

minho caught you staring eventually. “what are you looking at, my love?”

a blush dusted across your cheeks. “you look handsome like this.”

his chopping halted. it would’ve been the first time that you’ve seen him truly flustered since meeting him. “i do?”

“i think i love you.”

changbin

it would be hard to not fall for the only man that you were ever allowed to see.

every day, like a mantra, you were told the same thing: you only need changbin. friends don’t compare to changbin. your family is changbin.

eventually it would’ve been hard to not give into the conditioning.

it was late at night and changbin still wasn’t home. you caught yourself feeling disappointed, looking forward to the one person that you saw in the day.

so when he arrived back home, you couldn’t help but jump up, greeting him at the door.

“i missed you.��

he stood in place for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around you too. “what’s gotten into you, my darling?”

“why were you out so late?”

“i had to take care of some things,” he pulled away, nervously, “and you missed me?”

“of course i did. i love you.”

a wide smile spread across his face. “you love me? really?”

hyunjin

“i can’t believe he’s gone. i loved him so much, i don’t even know what to do with myself now.”

hyunjin rubbed your back soothingly, rocking you back and forth as you let out deep sobs into his shoulder. “i know you loved your friend, he was very kind to you.”

too kind. but you wouldn’t understand that— which is why he had to eliminate him.

“who’s gonna be there for me now? he always knew what to say and do.”

“i will always be right here. always. i can promise that to you.”

after a moment of sniffles, you pulled away slightly, staring at him with your puffy eyes that broke his heart. “i love you, hyunjin.”

“what do you mean?”

“i think i’m in love with you.” you were hysterical from the loss of your friend, not having slept for over 24 hours, and your head fuzzy from crying all day.

he was going to take advantage of that. “i love you too, y/n.”

jisung

the boy had been stalking you for ages. following you to classes, work, home— he knew everything about you at this point.

his first thought when you walked towards him, before he could even process your confession, was that you were so close to him. you had never been this close. he had only seen you from a distance.

the smell of you made him dizzy. he had sniffed your shampoos before, sure, stolen your underwear, bought your perfumes to spray around his house— but this was a whole new level and—

“hello? excuse me?”

he was brought back into reality as you waved your hands in front of his face, the butterflies replaced themselves with shock once you had asked for his number, admitting your feelings for him.

“a crush? me? you?” he stammered.

“i’ve seen you around and i think that you’re very attractive.”

felix

you were drunk out of your mind, right on his lap, dozing off on his shoulder. he was already losing it.

“felix, i think i have a crush on you.”

“what?” he pulled you up to look him in the eyes.

you giggled. “you’re so handsome. i’m so in love with you.”

he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

perhaps you wouldn’t feel the same if you knew how many times his hands have gotten bloody for you, exactly how far his infatuation with you went.

“i don’t know what you’re thinking, lix. tell me.”

instead of telling you his feelings, he decided to show them.

his hand met the back of your neck, leaning in to meet your lips.

seungmin

“i need to be honest.”

“yes?” your friend turned towards you on the couch, “you can tell me anything, y/n.”

“i think i’m in love with you.”

it was like the world had stopped for him.

no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. he was supposed to confess to you once the time was right. he needed to be confident and ready with your favorite flowers and a speech.

“seungmin?”

he couldn’t even respond, his entire face hot from your confession.

“you can tell me if you don’t feel the same way, i hope it doesn’t ruin things between us.”

“no! no!” he stammered out, “i love you too. i’ve loved you forever.”

it took him a moment to gather his thoughts together, “you’re beautiful. i’d love for you to be my girlfriend. i would treat you like a princess, every day of my life.”

now it was your turn to become a mess.

jeongin

it was all an accident.

you meant to send that text to one of your friends.

‘jeongin was so cute today. u should’ve seen him. it took everything in me to not kiss him’

within minutes, he was knocking on your door with the wind knocked out of him.

“you weren’t supposed to see that,” your face was red, not even trying to excuse your actions.

“what about me was cute?”

“your hair. it was messy— and your jacket. i loved it. and fuck— i just love you. i have a crush on you, jeongin, you caught me.”

“i’ll wear that damn jacket every single day for you to say that about me.”

“what?” your eyes widened.

“i love you too, y/n.”

#skz #stray kids #skz smut #skz fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagine #stray kids blurbs #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #hyunjin skz #minho skz #skz stay #skz felix #skz hyunjin #stray kids blurb #yandere stray kids #stray kids yandere #yandere skz #stray kids seungmin #chan skz #skz changbin #yandere bang chan #changbin x reader #skz x y/n

[soobnny]

another year with you — lee minho. established relationship. extreme fluff (0.5k words)

“Dori, you’re gonna wake him up.”

Your whispers mix together with your giggles as Minho stirs in his sleep. There’s a tickle on his nose. Dori’s tail, he assumes.

He simply nuzzles his face deeper into his pillow in response to the commotion, grip tightening around your waist to keep you in place.

It’s one of his first day offs in a while, and he fully intends to spend it in bed all day with you.

“Minho.” You sheered, running a hand through his hair. He habitually leans into your warmth. “Happy Birthday.”

Dori keeps kneading at the pillow he’s using. Soonie and Doongie seem to have joined not long ago, pooling just by your legs.

Minho grumbles, moving his head so he’s facing you. Though, he doesn’t think he could have ever prepare himself for the sight he’s subjected to.

The sunlight pouring through your shared room bathes your face in a beautiful hue, soft smile on your face.

“Hi.” Your voice is still in a whisper, not wanting to startle him out of the small comfort of your bed. You can see the way his eyes start to open wider, blinking away the sleep. Slowly.

“What do you want for your birthday?” You ask. His lips look plump, pressed together as he keeps his eyes on yours.

He has tells when he’s deep in thought, tongue running over his bottom lip with a slight furrow on his eyebrows. His hand moves from being draped around your waist in favor of tracing the moles on your face.

Dori meows from next to him. Soonie and Doongie have moved to occupy the space between you.

“I have everything I need.” He finally mumbles, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your lips. Soft, romantic, and lovesick.

You pull away, though unsuccessfully as Minho chases after your lips. “‘M not done kissing you.”

“Mmm.” You hum against his lips, hand moving to play with the ends of his hair. He grew it out recently, admits he likes the way you pull on it.

It lasts a few heartbeats, and Minho exhales when your lips leave his. His eyes are still closed as he cements this moment. He’d film it if we could, running it over and over and never getting sick.

Quiet mornings with you and his cats on his birthday. He feels his heart grow.

“I love you.” The boy rarely says it first, loving in the shadows, but he ponders over saying it more when he sees the way your eyes light up and the way you have to bite down on your lips to suppress your smile.

You feel too fumbly to respond right away. Though, Minho doesn’t take too lightly at the silence that follows.

“Say it back.” He whines, and the pout on his lips solicit a breathy laughter from you. You gently reach out to cup his face, running a hand over his bottom lip.

“I love you too.”

He smiles. Slow blinking from his doe eyes.

“You’re twenty-five.”

Foreheads pressed together. Noses nuzzling. Soonie meows.

“Another year with you.”

Minho wouldn’t want it any other way.

#stray kids fic #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #lee know x reader #stray kids lee know x reader #stray kids au #lee know x you #skz x reader #minho fic #lee know fic #stray kids fluff #lee know fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids oneshots #stray kids drabble #stray kids blurb #lee know blurb #lee know scenarios #stray kids imagine #stray kids fanfic #lee minho fluff #minho x you #stray kids x you #skz imagines #skz fluff #lee know blurbs #lee know drabble

[wonfilms]

w - tears, angst but hurt/comfort, mention of overworking

lee know has a sharp tongue, he knows that.  he says things he really doesn’t mean in the heat of the moment. even though you know that, it doesn’t help dull the pain of his words .  he immediately regrets what you were arguing about when he sees the tears in your eyes. he opens his mouth to say something, anything that could reverse the things that he said to you.   

when you didn’t come to bed that night he knew he messed up, big time. he’d hurt you more than he realised. you were usually quick to forgive and forget but he sees this time it’s not that simple. as much as he had tried to, he couldn’t fall asleep.  the bed felt cold and lonely without you laid next to him. he felt a lump of emotion build up at the back of his throat as he thought of you. 

you probably hated him, and he doesn’t blame you. 

“you’re so clingy, god you can’t leave me alone, can you?“ he replays the line he spat out at you in his head a hundred times over. what kind of boyfriend says that to someone they loved.  all you did was ask him to take a break,  he was stressed from work and yelled at you. you were just looking out for him and he hurt you, he couldn’t forgive himself. 

so now you were doing what he asked you to do, you were giving him all the space in the world... and he’s never felt more alone. 

he swallowed thickly as he stood up out of bed, grabbing a blanket on the way. he made his way to the living room where you were sleeping on the couch curled up,  hugging a pillow to your body. he sunk to his knees next to you before wrapping the blanket he bought around you. 

he laid his head against the couch and let the tears that were pricking at the corners of his eyes fall. his soft sniffles were all that echoed throughout the apartment. he felt his eyes widen as your fingers brushed through his hair. 

“god ‘m so so sorry y/n” he held your hand in his and looked up at you, “it’s okay min” you whispered, wiping the tears from his cheeks. he swears he’s never loved anyone more than you at that moment. you let him climb into your arms and you just held each other.  the two of you looked at each other with glossy eyes.

“you know i love you so much right? i was stressed and i didn’t mean what i said at all, and i know that’s no excuse but-” his rambling was cut off by you pressed a soft kiss upon his lips. 

you knelt your head against his and smiled. “ you hurt my feelings a little minho, but i know you didn’t mean it “ .

 “i didn’t mean it all, do you forgive me ?” he questioned softly, “i forgive you min, just please take a break when you need one, that’s all i want from you” you said as he sighed with relief, letting his head fall on your shoulder. “i promise i’ll take more breaks, ”

“i love you so so much” you said caressing his cheek gently.  “can you come back to bed with me?” he whispered touching his nose to yours, you nodded and that’s all he needed before he scooped you up into his arms. lee know knows there will always be disagreements between two people, however much they loved each other, but he never wanted it to get this bad again. he made a vow to him that however mean the argument got, he never wanted you to go to bed alone again. 

#-works #skz #skz angst #skz x reader #skz oneshots #stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee minho #skz minho #minho fluff #skz lee minho #lee minho x reader #minho angst #minho imagines #lee minho angst #minho scenarios

[slvt4felix]

I Could Never Hate You (Part ||)

Pairing -> ninth member!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~2,700 words Includes -> lots of fluff, a little bit of angst, swearing, one small sexual innuendo, some Lee know tissue violence, arguing, Jeongin appearance, reader has anxiety but it's not mentioned as much in this part Summary -> Due to the late night revelations, you nearly forget all about your argument with Hyunjin. Will you be able to forgive him? Author's note -> I tried to make this one a little lighter to hopefully end this story on a much happier note. So don’t mind my dreadful attempt of comedy. Let me know if you want part 3! I hope you have a happy new year!

♡ Masterlist // Previous // Next ♡

You gently begin to wake up feeling something soft move beneath your head. You groan lightly, not quite wanting to wake up just yet. This has to be some of the best sleep you have ever had in your life. It's warm and cozy, and you somehow feel thoroughly rested, which is often hard to come by when on tour in a different country. Some may say the day before had exhausted you, or maybe the hotel room was just really nice, but as soon as you manage to blink your eyes open, you know the true reason. You have finally found your way back home.

You shift slightly, the sun, peaking between the curtains and painting the room a beautiful golden color, was unfortunately shining right in your eyes. Now facing away from the window, you glance up at Minho, still clad in his basic white tee and sweatpants. Neither of you had even bothered to pull the blankets back up, rather seeking warmth from just each other. The blankets are still ruffled at the end of the bed from whatever Minho had been doing before you had entered the room yesterday, unbeknownst to the life-changing events that were about to occur. You slept all night laying on his chest with his arm wrapped tenderly around you, holding you close. This is definitely the reason you slept so well the night before. Who knew cuddling with your enemy could have such a positive effect?

Minho starts to grumble a bit underneath you and you begin to panic, not wanting him to wake up yet. You just want to cherish this sweet moment for as long as possible, too afraid of how his brain will react when he wakes up. There's always the chance he will regret it all, or maybe he was just joking, or maybe he was drunk. Okay, that last one might not make too much sense but you can't help but worry through all the possibilities. Your thoughts begin to race, forgetting the most important what if. That maybe, just maybe, he really did feel the same about you and everything he said last night was entirely true.

A hand caresses your cheek, breaking you from your destructive chain of thoughts. Your eyes fall upon Minho with his eyes cracked open and a gentle smile gracing his features. He must have woken up at some point while you were too lost in thought to notice.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" he asks, his eyes searching yours as if he could find all the answers to the universe within your gaze. You simply hum, not particularly fond of telling him the insecurities that were just previously running through your head. Although you love the man dearly, you are going to need a bit of time to learn to trust him again, but that's okay. Relationships need time, communication, and work to make them last.

You lean in to press a kiss to Minho’s cheek, his fluffy morning hair and groggy voice making your heart flutter. The two of you stare at each other, absorbing the moment. Despite the rough night four out of nine members had, there was still a lot of work to be done. In the life of an idol, there was no time for rest. But for now, you were going to appreciate the peaceful moment shared between the two of you. They hadn’t released a set time to leave yesterday, but neither of you worried. Chan will come around knocking on the door eventually letting everyone know when to be ready by. It’s the same routine that has happened at every stop this tour. The only difference now being you and Minho holding each other while waiting for the eventual interruption to come.

Just as expected, a hesitant knocking sounds through the room. Minho instantly groans and closes his eyes again. You sigh exaggeratedly, realizing you're actually going to have to depart from the warm bed. As you pull away from Minho, he frowns and makes grabby hands towards you, as if he wasn't well aware of the reason you were leaving. You swat at his hands, letting a small giggle escape as you approach the door. You swing it open without bothering to look in the peephole, assuming it was simply Chan on the other side to let you know the schedule for the day. Instead you open the door to Hyunjin, who appears very surprised as if he had almost expected you to not answer at all. Honestly, you probably wouldn't have answered if it wasn't for you believing whole-heartedly that it was Chan. Surprisingly, the fight from last night with Hyunjin hadn't been the first thing on your mind when waking up this morning.

However, as you stare at the nervous boy in front of you, you're reminded of all the cruel, harsh words he said to you just the night before. The look of annoyance was now seared into your brain. How could your best friend do that to you? Your heart starts to ache as you think about all your favorite moments with him trying to decipher how it could have lead up to this.

He brings his eyes up from where they shot to the floor when you first came out. Upon making eye contact, it's clear just how nervous he really is. There is deep regret painted across his face and sincerity within his gaze. He looks like he came with something to say, his mouth opening and closing again as he tries to get the simple words out.

"Why are you here?" you ask him, not too unkindly. You simply want to give him a way into a conversation; he looks scared half to death that your just gonna slam the door in his face.

"I wanted to apologize, I am so so sorry," he says, emphasizing the last part heavily. Just hearing those words is almost enough to make you cave and forgive him again. He is your best friend after all. You're pretty sure he didn't mean any of it, especially after the reassurances provided by Minho the night before, but it doesn’t take away all the harsh words that were spoken.

"Why would you say that to me?" you ask, hurt audible in your tone. "You know how insecure I am about that stuff."

"I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just really frustrated.”

“Well you did and it seems like you don’t even care how you made me feel.”

“Of course I care,” he says, offended at your accusation.

“Well it sure as hell seemed like you couldn’t give two shits last night.”

He simply stares back at you, regret running deep in his eyes. There’s a slight sparkle to them, enough to tell that he’s starting to tear up. He brings his hand up, scrunching the area between his eyes with his fingers. You almost remind him not to, telling him that it’ll bring wrinkles to his perfect face, but you hold yourself back remembering the unfortunate situation. Things aren’t okay between the two of you. It’s a weird felling considering it’s something that hasn’t really happened before.

Since the start of the band it’s really been you and Hyunjin. You were one of the favorite friendships for the fans to obsess over, and you loved it just as much as they did. You were two peas in a pod, never leaving each other's side.

You would’ve never expected for something like this to happen. Hyunjin wouldn’t do that to you.

But you have to think rationally if you want to keep the friendship. You can’t just throw all the years down the drain. He’s human, and he makes mistakes.

You hear Hyunjin inhale sharply from where he stands in front of you. You can tell he’s desperately trying to hold his sobs in, not wanting to make this about himself.

“Fucking idiot,” he whispers under his breath sending a pang through your chest. “Could we sit down and talk about it? I really want to make it up to you,” he says, regaining his composure. He straightens his back, his hands sliding into the pockets of his sweatpants. He nervously rocks forward a bit on his feet awaiting your answer.

As much as you want to talk it through, you’re not exactly comfortable with him right now. The idea of sitting down with him and being alone is definitely not on your to-do list. You need some time to process before you can get to that point. You’re sure that if you were to try to talk it out, it would probably turn into another argument, which is something you are desperately trying to avoid.

You glance back into the room, feeling Hyunjin’s eyes analyzing your movement. Minho is still in there, and it’s not really the time or place to dig deep into what happened. Time may be the main healer in this situation. He’s just going to have to regain your trust.

“Listen, now’s not really the best time. I’m not really ready to forgive you yet, but I’m not mad at you, okay?” He nods slowly, taking in your words. You can tell he’s disappointed, but he’s aware he’s not in the position to argue.

His eyes suddenly widen, a realization occurring. His eyes shift back to the room behind you.

“Is Minho in there? How did it go?” he asks, a sneaky smile growing on his face, completely amused at the situation.

"It went fine," you say shortly, trying to get Hyunjin to take a hint. Instead, he gently pushes past you into the hotel room. You would've shut the door on him had it not been suspicious. You spin around as Hyunjin struts into the room. You stare at him, confused considering you had just told him you weren't willing to talk right now.

You simply watch in wonder as he looks around, stepping back slightly when he notices an intimidating Minho, staring back at him from one of the beds. You may agree to be civil with Hyunjin while he attempts to make up for everything, but that doesn't mean Minho will. You're sure his typically empty threats will finally start to hold true.

Minho is still laying on the bed right where you had left him. His phone is in his hand, as if he had been trying to distract himself from listening to your conversation. However, it seems like the phone was neglected upon Hyunjin abruptly entering the room. His eyebrows are raised in a slightly annoyed manner. He hadn't been expecting Hyunjin to actually come into the room. His eyes shift from Hyunjin to you, and you quickly look away, embarrassed to be caught staring.

Although you would never admit it to his face, damn did he look hot while he was annoyed.

"You two slept in the same bed," Hyunjin says matter of factly, bringing you out of your thoughts. Your mouth opens in shock, not understanding how he could've possibly figured that out. Minho, however, doesn't take the moment of pause.

He instantly fires back, "Yah, don't start making accusations." He sits up a bit on the bed, prepared to chase after Hyunjin, like their fights usually result in.

"So, you're telling me you two did not sleep in the same bed?" he asks with his eyebrows raised in challenge. He glances between both of you as you try to figure out what to say. You don't want to lie to your best friend, but also based off what happened last night, he doesn't really deserve to know.

Minho beats you to it answering, "That's none of your business." He says it casually followed by a shrug of his shoulders. You nearly face palm, already knowing Hyunjin's reaction.

He instantly lights up, believing his theory to now be confirmed. He makes eye contact with both you and Minho, before he makes a run for it. He spins around and rushes for the door.

"Guys I won. I won the bet!" he begins to yell as he makes it to the hallway. Luckily, this was one of the few hotels you have stayed at where you had a whole floor to yourselves. There was a close encounter with fans at your last hotel, and they wanted to be extra cautious.

Hyunjin takes advantage of this, although you're not quite sure if it's purposeful or if he's just too excited to care. He goes to yell again, wanting to let the rest of the boys know the exciting news, but he is instantly cut off with a hand to his mouth. He recognizes it as Minho's, remembering the taste of dry tissues all too well.

Hyunjin nearly stumbles as he is dragged back into the room by the shorter man. Minho isn't too rough though, completely aware of his limits. He doesn't want to hurt him, maybe just restrain him.

Minho pushes him into the desk chair standing behind it. Hyunjin spits out the tissues, frustrated at being the victim of Minho's crimes yet again. He goes to stand up, eager to spill about your relationship to everyone, but he is kept seated by firm hand on his shoulder.

“Might as well tie him up while you’re at it” you say, giggling at Minho's antics.

“How’d you know I was into that?” Hyunjin retorts, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. In contrast, behind him Minho's face contorts into one of pure disgust. You can’t help but laugh at the craziness of the scene in front of you. The silliness is refreshing after the dramatic night before.

“Y/n, hand me more tissues,” Minho says, a look of determination growing on his face.

“I don’t know if that’s necessary…”

“He’s asking for it at this point,” he argues back, stretching his arm out obnoxiously. You shrug, unable to disagree with his point, emptying the last of the tissue box into his hand.

Panic fills Hyunjin’s eyes as he stares at you with deep betrayal. You simply laugh, aware that he's not actually upset.

Suddenly, all three of your heads snap towards the cracked open door as it's pushed open the rest of the way. It had been left slightly open after Minho dragged Hyunjin back in. You're nervous to see who it is, scared for the teasing to come if they find out. It's not that you don't want them to know about you and Minho, you just don't want to give them the satisfaction of being right. They've been trying to get you guys to interact again for years, so they are definitely going to give you a rough teasing over it. Plus, it doesn't sound like a bad idea to keep Minho to yourself for a little bit longer.

The door lightly hits the wall and the person is revealed. Jeongin is staring at the scene before him with wide eyes. The room is a little trashed due to Hyunjin knocking over a few things in the process of the kidnapping, and he looks terrified as Minho is holding tissues. It's definitely not the most welcoming thing he's ever seen.

He had come running out of his room after hearing Hyunjin yell, unsure as to what he had said. He was staying in the room next to you two and had simply wanted to check on Hyunjin or maybe join in on the fun.

However, this was not something he wanted to be included in this early in the morning. Hyunjin gives him pleading eyes, practically begging Jeongin to stay. The maknae doesn't listen, rather breaking eye contact and leaving for his room, too scared to be on the recieving end of Minho's wrath. He hadn't even said anything, his simple observance enough to make him leave.

That wouldn't be the end of it though, he knows he'll learn all about what happened eventually. He leaves with a small smirk, wondering if they had finally managed to finally get you and Minho to make up.

Next part out now!

Taglist: @armystay89 @thisisnotjacinta @silentreadersthings @seungminsapuppy

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