#stray kids x oc

[hanibalistic]

DRUNKEN WITH A SENSE OF LOVE | HWANG HYUNJIN.

genre | romance / drunken confessions / fake dating au

synopsis | you and hyunjin got drunk at different times, and you two took care of each other similarly. 

word count | 7.1k+

warning | mentions of insecurity / brief allusion to sexual themes / alcohol and drunkenness  

note | i changed almost everything about this.

Hyunjin has gotten himself etched to the back of your mind, and you genuinely did not like that.

You didn't blame him, though. If anything, you blame yourself for falling so head over heels for him.

For one, Hyunjin couldn’t help who falls in love with him. He couldn’t suppress his overwhelmingly good looks if he tried, which he never did. He enjoyed the positive attention, however shallow they often were. He also couldn’t put a pause on his decent personality, which came as a genuine surprise to you after you got to know him better through this fake dating scheme. You always thought beautiful people harbored the ugliest heart, out of envy and bitterness. Hyunjin wasn’t like that. You didn’t think he was, at least. 

For two, you should have known better than to fall in love with a man leagues above your selection pool. People called it self-degradation, a lack of self-esteem, having no self-worth, and whatnot. You considered it a down-to-earth trait, a reality check, understanding your limits, and whatnot. Hyunjin was a boy you should fall in love with in moderation but never utterly, ardently, absolutely. You were, unfortunately, the latter. 

For three, and this was the stupidest part, you two were temporarily dating. Hyunjin was honest when he approached you and said that his friends, at the ripe age of twenties and pursuing higher education, thought you were good enough to be the butt of a romantic joke. They had challenged him to chase you, get you into a relationship, and break your heart. It was a heinous and, frankly, childish game, but you agreed to it with him for the prize money. 

It was worth it at that time. It was easy money! Who wouldn’t want that? You didn’t feel that way now. Pretending to be in a loving relationship with him has short-term perks but long-term losses. 

Hyunjin was practically in you, etched to the back of your mind, tattooed on the inside of your skin, taken by your bloodied hands to the bottom of your grave. The degree to which your heart dropped for him was unexplainable by yourself. Therefore, having the excuse to go on dates and hold his hands in public, snuggle with him during outings with his friends, and maintain a pleasant friendship with him behind closed doors were great experiences. But when the time comes for separation, you will hurt, not merely over the breakup, but the reminder that he has never felt more for you, that your wonderful experience with him was just an experience.

Clumsy stumbling could be heard outside his apartment, and not a second later came a round of demanding knocks. Hyunjin's head perked up at the noise, his eyes wide in alert at the sudden banging. He looked at the door momentarily before finally looking over to the clock, his brows furrowing slightly at the late time. He waited to check if it could be a drunken stranger approaching the wrong door, but soon enough, another round of aggressive knocks sounded.

Holding the thought that it could just be his roommate, Han Jisung, coming back home late for yet another odd reason, and also praying inwardly that he wouldn't have to spend the night taking care of a loud, obnoxious, and very drunk Jisung, he made his way up and approached the door.

Flinging the door open, Hyunjin did a double-take before his annoyed expression morphed into one of surprise. His arm went slack against the wooden frame of the door, and he took an instinctive step forward when he saw your drunken state—your features were scrunched up in discomfort, your eyes squinted because astigmatism had taken over on your walk to the apartment building, and you were hunched over. You were not at all the way you used to look, not the way he was used to seeing you, which was always so presentable and well put together.

An amused smile appeared on his face as he eyed you up and down, wanting nothing more than to make fun of and tease you even without your ability to form the perfect retorts he has grown to be highly fond of. But you sniffed for a moment and took a step forward. In that exact second, you had Hyunjin doubling over to catch you before you could fall to the floor, concern lining up the crinkles of his eyes as he looked down at you.

"Woah, alright! Let’s stand slowly, okay?" he commanded gently, cooing at your side as if talking to a child. 

His arms curled around your shoulder and waist with a protective grip, and he hoisted your weight by supporting you with his own. Pulling you into the apartment, he shut the door slowly with his feet before returning his attention to you, hoping to bring you to the couch where you could lie down and rest.

“Jeez, babe, how much did you drink?” he laughed, dragging your unresponsive body along with him.

You groaned lowly, trying your best to hold down the acidic taste rushing at the back of your mouth. You wouldn’t know it, but this was not what you had planned for the night. Your friends did their job sending you home safely. Who would have thought you’d leave your apartment shortly after just to stumble to Hyunjin’s home? It was a short distance from your place, but what a miracle you made it without any major accidents! And what a disaster you made it to his home while being high on alcoholic honesty!

You snapped your head up. You were at the perfect angle to stare at his side profile, allowing you the premium shot of his perfect jawline, luscious locks, beautiful lashes, button tip of his nose, and just the most kissable lips you have ever seen. A grimace reached your face. It was an instinctive response. His good looks indeed couldn’t hide even behind the blurriest of eyes. You thought if you lied to your body enough, your mind would follow, so you grimaced whenever you looked at him, hoping to start disliking him. It hasn’t worked. 

"Hwang Hyunjin,” you muttered.

He chuckled. “Yes. That is me."

You gulped, still staring at him. Then, as you lowered your eyes to the floor, you leisurely suggested what’s been on your mind recently, “We should break up."

Of all the things you have done within these few months of him meeting you, including you agreeing to help him lie to his friends about this fake dating challenge to punching someone in the face for shaming his impulsive sex life, which you weren’t surprised he has, this one caught him off guard the most. This one also made him panic. It was fear, like sweaty hands and dry lips, like his mind racing with terrible thoughts, racing with made-up reasons as to why you would want that, racing with every single action he has done that could be counted as a mistake.

"Wh–what? Why do you–why? Why are we breaking up? We are fine. I didn't do anything–did I do something?" Hyunjin stuttered, unconsciously tightening his grip on your body before he let out a gentle but firm whisper, "No."

“I know, I am sorry. I don’t know–I’m just sorry,” you slurred, long stopped looking at him and instead was now leaning your entire weight against him like a wall. Your hands waved about in the air. "You are mad at me, aren't you? Of course–“ you snorted obnoxiously–“it’s a lot of money! I’ll pay you. Break up with me, don’t be mad.”

Hyunjin stared at you as you laughed manically. It sounded choked up, like you’ve got wet coughs prepared in your throat, but he could tell you were far from shedding tears, unlike good ol’ sensitive him, who remained in a state of anxiety and was still trying to process why you brought up separation. It wasn’t time for the fake dating to end. It was nowhere near it! To suggest breaking up so early must mean something was wrong with him, but what was? He couldn’t tell! To think he was just losing his mind over what to do once it was time for this fake relationship to end. 

“Hyunjin,” you called him once when you noticed his silence. Looking up at him, you furrowed your brows and reached up to brush his face clumsily with your hand, pushing your fingertips against his skull. “Hyunjin? Hey. Answer me. Hey. Hello. Hyunjin!”

He leaned away from your aggressive touch, his shoulders relaxing at your playful antics. A smile formed uncontrollably on his lips when you doubled down on smearing your hands all over his face after his dodges. He was left haplessly struggling between missing your direct eyeball pokes and keeping you from falling to the ground. You grinned out loud; he mirrored it, and he didn’t hear the sound of your laughs mixing together because he hears it all the time.

“You are very drunk, [Name],” he managed to comment after grabbing both of your hands and keeping them at his face level. His tight-lipped smile sparkled when you attempted a struggle, like a parent reprimanding their child, then he moved your hands to your face and squeezed your cheeks together. Your lip jutted out in response. He leaned in to kiss your cupid’s bow. “You’re being silly. Let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed.”

The frown on your face made him nervous. His hands slowly slipped from your face, and your hands fell to your sides. You remained silent, and he let the clogs in your brain move. Your thoughts weren’t clear. The only thing you were sure of was that the man standing before you was Hwang Hyunjin, your temporary boyfriend, and you’d spent the whole night trying to drink your feelings for him away. You came to his apartment for a reason—you needed to break up with him for your own good.

“No, I can’t go to bed yet. I have something to do.” You yawned and waved an arm dismissively. You spoke before you finished yawning, leaving your words hanging in the air in slow motion. “I came to tell you something.”

Hyunjin’s hands curled into fists. He let go, tightened them, and let go again to alleviate the sweat gathering at his palms. You were surprisingly hell-bent on the topic, which led him to believe it went beyond a moment of drunkenness. It must have been a conclusion formed long ago, and you have just now mustered the courage to let him know. But why? What did he do? What did he not do? 

He was more than nervous, if there was a word to describe the state of his heart. This was more than a personal problem, which he admittedly still has to work through, but far more significant than himself was you—his feelings for you, his immense affection for you, the fact that he loved you the way you warned yourself not to love him but did anyway. It wasn’t your fault. Your observant eyes, your sincerity, your care for him. It wasn’t your fault. He fell in love with you of his own accord.

If you left him, he would be like a dog without a leash, a dog without an owner. He would wander aimlessly, filled with rage and dread, sniffing every darkened corner for a whiff of your scent. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked meekly. 

You sucked in a deep breath to counter your congested chest, then you shook your head in agreement. “Yes.” 

You were very drunk. He shouldn’t take your words into consideration. “That’s fine,” he said as he stepped toward you, “can we get cleaned up and go to bed anyway? It’s very late.”

“No, I don’t want you touching me anymore.” You stepped back dramatically and hugged yourself into a protective stance. “It’s for the better.” 

He wondered what that meant. Were you repulsed by him? Did you finally realize how disgusting his inability to stay away from sexual and romantic validation was? Were you ashamed to be associated with him because of his impulsive behavior? He was only good for a short time; did you come to that realization? You were too good for him. He always knew that.

Hyunjin retreated his hand from mid-air. His hands met before his abdomen, his fingers immediately picking at each other as he uncomfortably shifted his weight. The corner of his lips arched downward at your rejection, but he tried to keep them neutral so he wouldn’t be influenced into crying. There wasn’t much else he could do with himself if being near you was no longer an option. He looked lost and wronged; he felt so.

“[Name], did I do something?” he asked, rubbing his elbow awkwardly. “Why do you suddenly want to break up with me?”

You blinked at a random space on the wall. Sitting below your sight was a messy square table with unwashed cups, scattered papers, and a closed laptop. Even in a state of haze, you knew they didn’t belong to him. Hyunjin was more organized than that. He told you once it made his school experience much easier to have everything in one place: his computer, which you knew he often kept in his school bag. You sniffed; you knew him like the back of your hand. 

“I can’t tell you,” you replied slowly, not looking at him. “It’s a secret.” 

Hyunjin tilted his head. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” 

He sounded convincing, so you gradually moved your eyes to access him. Standing in front of you, timid as a mouse, was Hwang Hyunjin. You knew that, and you knew that your secret was to be kept from him. Yet, somehow, all that did not register once you were engaged in a conversation with him. He was Hyunjin, just a person you were talking to. If he promised not to tell, then it should be fine. 

“You promise?” you asked. 

Hyunjin nodded. “I promise.” 

You pouted with a glare, willing him to waver and show any sign of deception, but he stood his ground and waited for you to expose your deepest and darkest feelings to him. A faint grumble sounded from your mouth. You looked around briefly to check for any eavesdroppers before you walked a few tentative steps toward him, and you confessed, “I’m in love with you.” 

It was like a shot through the heart, and the shot was aimed so successfully that the organ tore off its hinges and fell to his abdomen where his hands fiddled nervously with each other. It may be asking for an exit out of his body, it may be seeking its new owner, or it may come knocking boldly at your mouth and ask to fit inside you. Hyunjin remained perplexed at your confession. The confession had a bitter taste; he wasn’t sure what to make of it or if he deserved it from someone like you. 

“[Name]…” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I am very in love with you. It’s stupid.” 

He couldn’t tell, but you understood, despite a fogged mind, that letting him know your affection for him was a cause for your demise. Your emotions were in a whirlwind, collecting up the fragments of all the heart pieces you've broken because of Hyunjin and how you had confronted yourself multiple times with your own delusions that this wouldn't be like the movies. He would never fall in love with you just because you two got closer from months of fake dating.

Even then, he was empathetic to your body language, especially how much they mirrored his. His shoulders slumped at how you turned away from him to trail your attention off somewhere safer, where he wasn’t in your sight. Registering his beautiful face was hard for you because you couldn’t have him; processing his existence and your proximity to him was difficult because you could never have him. You turned away from him to further signify to yourself the assumed truth, your trembling fingers pulling at each other to avoid an awkward standstill. 

Hyunjin was etched to the back of your brain. He was overwhelming, and he was far away. Unable to contain the sudden reminder that you were never going to get over him, a rush of tears started to tremble their way up to your eyes. Your face scrunched without remorse, and your head dropped near your shoulders alarmingly quickly that it startled him.

“I love you, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. It made him panic. “Please break up with me.” 

“Why are we breaking up if you love me, silly?” he forced a laugh once he approached you. 

His lanky arms were clumsy and gentle after he pulled at his sweater sleeves to wipe your tears. They hovered awkwardly over your face, gauging how much strength to use to effectively dry your eyes but not push you any further away from him. He cooed a bunch of nonsense, but they were sweet like sleepy kisses on your hands. Eventually, he cupped your face and wiped your eyes with his thumbs. You let him; he made you laugh when he apologized for using too much force, even though he never did. 

“You don’t love me, Hyunjin,” you muttered. 

“Nonsense,” he retorted within a second, “who said that?”

You didn’t reply, so he stood with his arms raised for a whole minute while you leaned the weight of your head against his palms. He thought it terribly horrific that he ought to remember the shape of your face with his slender fingers because of his inability to sew his skin into yours. If his hands were like superglue, he could be attached to you forever—your face, your features, you, his most favorite thing in the world. His hands would burn, but what of it? Better you scorch him than to never be touched by you at all. 

“Hyunjin,” you called when you were finished zoning out.

“Mhm?” 

“I love you. I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m so ugly.” 

Growing up being valued for his beautiful features taught him to devalue it. He didn’t care for it. He wouldn't cry about it if he were to earn a permanent scar across his face. Yet, even then, if he were to have one, he was sure people would rave about how the scar ruined his face rather than talk about how he obtained it. Except for you. You’d ask about it, like you always asked everything about him. 

The kind of person you were, his most favorite person in the world—you were detailed like that, and you made him feel an essence of humanity others didn’t. With you, he wasn’t ethereal, he wasn’t a God, he wasn’t an angel fallen to Earth. He didn’t have to be because you never put him on some miraculous pedestal. He was just Hwang Hyunjin; his favorite food is his mother’s cooking, he makes clumsy mistakes and looks funny when he does, and he enjoys making art. 

Not a model, not God’s favorite, not pretty. Just a boy, and he’s in love with you.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m ugly too.” 

He didn’t deny your false claims; you were the prettiest he had ever known, but only he needed to know that. When there comes a time for him to praise and worship your physical body, he will. For now, there wasn’t anything much he wanted to say in return. Just that he was the same as you. 

Your souls didn’t collide that way, obviously. You two were completely different people with varying hobbies and friend groups. However, Hyunjin was willing to chase you like Hell to meet where you were. There wasn’t anything he wanted to be if he couldn’t be it with you. Whatever you are, he is.

There was another long pause. Hyunjin patiently waited, tender eyes concentrated on each crevice of your face as he stroked your stained cheeks with his thumb. You didn’t say anything more, only slapping your hands over his and pulling them from your face. He thought you were moving away, but you took a step forward instead and dove into his arms. You hugged him around his neck, hanging off him like a sloth. He chuckled, swaying you side to side. You were tired, he knew. 

“It’s getting late, baby,” he whispered, leaning back to watch your closed eyes and laughing. He ran a hand through your hair multiple times, getting a clearer view of your face. “Let’s clean up and go to bed, okay?”

You groaned and muttered in response. He didn’t hear what you said. He kept sweeping your hair back. Supporting you with his weight, you were heavy, but he didn’t mind. You wouldn’t be able to change your clothes by yourself, so he would help you. It’d be sloppy and slow, and he wouldn’t mind. You would take up most of the bed, sprawled out without a clue that you weren’t sleeping in your apartment. Your body heat would scratch up a fever in him, and he wouldn’t mind. He enjoyed taking care of you. 

Staring at him as he stroked your hair, you pouted before uttering three familiar words, “I love you.” 

Hyunjin smiled. Whatever you are, he is. He kissed your nose and your eyes. He told you he loves you too.

It was one of those nights when Hyunjin couldn’t spend time with you, and you were unreasonably disappointed about it.

You slouched atop the couch you got at a flea market, which Hyunjin had to convince you to get after repeatedly reassuring you that there wouldn’t be any actual fleas hiding in the creases. This uncomfortable position resulted from five hours of continuous mumbling about how you should not be upset that Hyunjin didn’t choose to spend the night with you, which he had done the past few weeks. He has been somewhat clingy lately, and you couldn’t imagine why. You thought your act was good. There was no way his friends doubted you. 

This could be the calm before the storm. Even though you two had concocted a detailed timeline for your fake dating, you wouldn’t be surprised if Hyunjin abruptly cut it short. If that was true, his current sweetness was nothing more than a buildup to a dramatic and convincing breakup. 

Pouting in dismay, you rolled up the bag of chips and reached for the tea table beside you, your fingertips wiggling to graze past the black binder clip you used to keep the plastic bag sealed. Amid your frustrated groaning, still refusing to get your ass off the couch even after more than ten seconds of struggling, the doorbell suddenly rang, and coming after that were loud bangs at your door.

A shiver ran down your spine as you snapped your head toward the direction of the noise, your brows rising abruptly at the fearful intrusion. Slowly throwing your chip bag on the table, you stood up and tip-toed your way over to the door where you pressed your hands to the wooden surface and carefully looked through the peephole.

A gasp caught in your throat when you saw Hyunjin’s face standing just a few inches away from the circle as if leaning against the door for support. You immediately moved out and unlocked your door, swinging it open to reveal him fully. Taking a good look at his face before he started to throw his little drunken tantrum—messy hair, concentrated brows, droopy eyelids, and a general look of discomfort—you concluded that he definitely has been downing more shots than he could handle.

“What happened to you?” 

You stepped up to put your hands on either side of his arm, carefully bringing him into your apartment. He stumbled with most of his weight straining on your shoulder. There were so many stutters in his steps that you almost dragged him into a fall with you on your way to the couch. After setting him down, he snorted at the cushy feeling of your couch. It took him a while to process the new environment, and then he arched his neck to find you. 

Hyunjin could barely make out your face. He couldn’t even be sure if he went to your apartment, but subconsciously, he could tell he was at your place. He felt it in your timid touches just now, and whatever scent he whiffed out of the air, it smelt like you. Licking his lower lip as his worries slowly faded away and his attention—as much as he could muster—returned, he mumbled a string of incoherent noises under his breath before he, much to your palpitating heart’s dismay, pulled you onto the couch next to him. 

He got on top of you; his legs had to bend in weird ways to accommodate the small couch, and he placed his palms on either side of your head to trap you under him. You felt heat forming on your cheeks as you shrunk beneath his shadow, your eyes widening at the proximity. Hyunjin has never done this before. The closeness wasn’t new, but the position of it was. Being under him was an unbelievable feeling. He looked beautiful, and his toned muscles became more visible by supporting his own weight. How your thoughts were smeared! You doubted your body would forget how well he could cage you in. 

Hyunjin stared at you with a low, drunken hum. Then, suddenly, he leaned down to meet your face. 

“[Name],” he started, lowering his head tiredly to your shoulder, “you wanted to break up with me?”

You blinked up at the ceiling, confused, but you figured it could be the alcohol talking for him, so you chose to disregard all the questions that popped into your head. Holding out your arms to push against his chest, you attempted to sit up. “I don’t want to break up with you, Hyunjin.”

He seemed to be processing your answer as he allowed you to set him aside and give yourself more space. You sat quietly next to him, letting him have the time to think over what he wanted to say. The thoughtful pout on his face told you it was difficult for him to use his brain, but it looked cute enough that you almost took a picture to tease him about it once he got sober. You wondered if his response would be nonsense as well.

“Why do you want to break up with me?” he whispered, causing you to sigh. He hasn’t heard you, after all. His lips were pursed into a frown, and his eyes were squinted to show that he was very close to leaking a few tears down his cheeks, but you couldn’t read between the lines and realize what his despair meant. Hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, he abruptly turned to you and sniffed. “You can’t do that to me. I won’t–I won’t let you do that to me.” 

You tilted your head to the side, your brows constantly furrowed. Where was he getting this idea from? You tried to recall any off-handed comments you made. Still, they were primarily directed elsewhere and never at your fake relationship. You’ve never said anything bad about him, not to him, and never behind his back. There wasn’t anything outstandingly mean to say anyway, so what sprung this on? 

Returning to reality, your head faintly shook as you looked up at Hyunjin to ask his drunken state about the reason behind this outburst. Your eyes widened instead when you saw he had taken his shirt off, the lump of fabric discarded on the floor carelessly. Heat blossomed at the base of your neck, and you felt your joints sour in panic; seriously, what sprung this on! This was a much bigger issue than drunkenness! 

When you noticed his hands reaching to the belt of his jeans, you immediately lunged toward him and circled his wrists to stop his movements. Your panic became a surprised concern at his need to strip naked in your apartment. You doubted he wanted to show you his body. Even if he did, this wasn’t how you wanted to do it. 

Moving his hands away, you urged, “No. We’re not doing that.”

“No, I have to! I have to!” 

He snatched his hands away from yours and dove to unbuckle his belt again. His movements grew increasingly frustrated the more you blocked his attempt to remove his pants. You were annoying, but he wasn’t angry at you. He was scared. He wasn’t getting what he wanted, and he thought you might leave him if he didn’t show you what he could offer. It scared him that you didn’t want to see him whole, so eventually, he began to sob. 

“I have to show you, [Name]. Please let me!” Hyunjin whined, hands tugging harshly at each other by his chest.

“You don’t have to show me anything,” you assured as you grabbed a few tissues from the tea table. You dabbled softly at his eyes. “Come on, let’s put your clothes back on.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks like knives against your skin. He felt uncomfortable at this unfamiliar sequence. Things usually go smoothly after he reveals himself. Nobody has ever refused to see him, so why did you? What about himself was so repulsive that you couldn’t take one look at his bare skin? Why didn’t you love him back? 

“No.” he slurred, then paused to catch his breath. 

The moment of calm was gone too soon. His hands reached up to ruffle his hair in a frenzy. His heart hammering against his chest, yet his brain wasn’t sane enough to understand what the sudden panic was about, just that it had something to do with you. That obliviousness, as a result, was making him even more agitated.

“You need to love me again!” he exclaimed, eyes brimming with unknown tears. “People love me when I take my clothes off. You need to love me again!” 

A puff of air slowly made its way out of your half-parted lips. You could feel the stretching of your heartstrings. Hyunjin cried as he shrank into himself, his arms going around his cold body for a sense of comfort, and the sight toyed with your head by sending waves of deep anguish like mere laps of the ocean. The feeling deranged you—to realize Hyunjin experiences such a level of hopelessness and loneliness was heartbreaking. More importantly, you felt ignorant of his problems. You should have been a better friend, perhaps even a better lover.

“Hey,” you called out gently as you scooted toward him. You brought one hand up to his face to direct his eyes to you. You smiled softly when you found that he was opening his squinted eyes to stare back. “I’m going to get something, so wait here for me, okay?”

He sniffed, tasting the tears rolling down his mouth, and nodded. You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, ever so gingerly placing a hand at the small of his back, hoping to calm him down, but it turned out Hyunjin had a thought of his own. After feeling the warmth of your hand, he took it as a sign that you wanted to hug him, so he obliged immediately by wrapping his arms around your torso and putting his head on your shoulder.

You breathed a small chuckle when he made weird noises after finding a space at the crook of your neck. The transition from him throwing a tantrum to having a mini panic attack to being the clingiest person you have ever met was amusing. As was the transition from your mind being filled with annoyance and confusion to having your feelings torn into shreds to breathing out a chuckle. It was entertaining, and the fact that Hyunjin could bring out so many different aspects of your emotions was undeniably endearing.

He was that kind of person. He has always been. More than beautiful, he was expressive, selfless, and tender-minded. Watching him allowed you to live an emotional life vicariously. All the things you ignored in the past because of mental stress were repainted in colors by his hands. The movie you never watched, the ice cream you never tried, the districts you never visited, and the fireworks show you never stayed for—everything meant something to Hyunjin, so everything meant something to you. 

To him, love was a grave of sacrifices. Of his time, his space, his body, and his mind. He was willing to give, and he has given you all except one. You wouldn’t know any of it. 

You moved to the back of the couch, cautiously pressing your back up against the edge. Hyunjin followed you, shifting his position so he lay stuffed against your chest with your arms around his shoulders. His fingers played with each other shyly on top of his bare chest as he looked around your apartment absentmindedly. He couldn’t register anything but the fabric of your clothes and how small you made him feel. 

He finally looked at you after a moment. His cries had long ceased and left only trails of dry tears on his dearest cheeks. With his eyelashes still wet, glittering beautifully in the air, he blinked, his eyes widening after he found out you had been looking down at him. Suddenly, he grinned childishly with a hint of sun hidden in his smile. “What are you looking at?”

You hummed, finding Hyunjin utterly irresistible even with his tear-stained cheeks and slurred laughter. He was all messy and puzzling, but your heart pushed against itself to give him space to stay inside. “I’m looking at you, silly.” 

“Oh, you’re looking at me.” He giggled, covering half his face with his hands and shutting his eyes shyly. He squirmed around in your arms, but not once did he move far enough to not feel you against him. When he was done, he returned back to the original position, and he peeked an eye through the gap between his fingers. He laughed. “ I am looking at you too.”

“I know you are,” you said, fingers threading through his feathery locks with serenity, and a smile so heartwarming that Hyunjin couldn’t help but focus his sight on it.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes shaky.

You pursed your lips together and shrugged. “I can’t tell you. It is a secret.”

Hyunjin’s gaze hardened naively, a gasp ripping through his throat as he leaned back against your hand. “Tell me! I promise I won’t tell anyone else.”

“You promise?” 

“I promise!” he exclaimed, sitting up slightly and bumping his forehead against your chin. He burst into a fit of giggles then, rubbing his forehead for a while before reaching the same hand out to touch your chin sloppily. “I’m sorry, I hit your face.”

“It's okay,” you said, your thumb soothing against the spot he had bumped into you. “But you promise me you can keep a secret? It’s very important!”

He nodded eagerly. “I promise!”

“Okay,” you said as you looked up at the sky, pretending to think. “The reason why I am looking at you is really simple. It is because I love you.”

You glanced back down at him to find him looking at you in astonishment. He licked his lower lip. His mind cleared a little for the first time, and he felt all of the universe that was your body pressed close to him. Beyond that, there were more minor things. Your heart beat faster than his, making him chase after you like a madman; the warmth of your skin equated to the warmth he manually cultivated in his bed by stacking multiple blankets together, an attempt to replicate your presence at night; your soft voice, going through his blurry ears, sounded like the subconscious voice he hears all the time. Maybe his subconscious was all just you.

Those were all fragments of proof of how much he loved you. To think you returned his feelings—he didn’t know what to think. 

“Really?” He sounded so surprised. It was almost heartbreaking.

“Yes,” you nodded, “even when we both have clothes on.” 

He looked down and touched your shirt. “Oh, you are wearing a shirt.”

“Yes, I am.”

He gazed at it briefly before, with an invisible shrug, leaned his cheek against your chest. “You’re warm. I like it.”

You smiled, feeling like your lips were about to extend out of your cheeks to become wider. “You’re cold because you took your shirt off!”

He scoffed and said nothing. Hyunjin was unguarded and half-stripped before you, chastely snuggling up against your chest while slurred words spilled out of his mouth like a mantra. You didn’t try to understand him; he wasn’t looking to have a conversation. You just wanted to lay together without a thought or a worry. Occasionally, he would sit up just to look at your face, then hum and lay back down, continuing to rot. 

It was such a wondrous thing.

“Do you want to wash up and go to bed?” you asked. “Are you tired?” 

“No. I want to stay here. I like it here.” 

Hyunjin let out a dreamy sigh. He threw his head back with a smile, his hair hitting your jaw and sprawled over the crook of your neck. He tilted his head then, letting it fall along your shoulder. His eyes were closed with bliss, and he laughed to himself. When he opened his eyes, there was only the shadow of your side profile, which was good for him. He wanted to kiss the skin, filled with close-up bumps and blemishes. It was a side profile he’ll know for the rest of his life, and he’ll whisper ‘I love you’ to a million times. 

“I have a secret to tell you,” he mentioned.

You raised a brow, intrigued, and urged him to continue, “What is it?”

He bit his lower lip and scurried off your body. You sat up straighter then, watching as he stumbled over to the front door for the bag he discarded on the ground. He crouched to pull a small notebook out easily before returning to you. He stopped by the couch, his eyes concentrated as he stared at the notebook's cover. Then, without another word, he dropped back onto your body and made you wrap your arms around him like before. 

“I draw you all the time. In my sketchbook.” 

He grinned out loud in the same way you would grin at him. His fingers played with the blank pages before, finally, he arrived at one filled with traces of his pencil. You gasped. He wasn’t spilling nonsense. The page was filled with beautiful sketches of your face, and so was the next one and the next. He kept flipping his notebook, and everywhere you could find pieces of yourself dotted out sincerely by his hand. 

They didn’t look to come from memories, but they were definitely from moments not even you could remember. But Hyunjin remembered everything because he detailed it all in the lines. His inability to not consume all of you tied his hands together and made you his ultimate muse. Almost unconsciously, for a while, the only thing he knew to draw was you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t know how else to pour you out of his mind. 

It was overwhelming, and you could see that. He was showing you all his blood work: mornings spent missing you with the tip of a crooked pencil, afternoons spent recalling your features in his head, nights spent tracing your face with his lead-filled fingers under a desk lamp. If he could inhale these sketches of you into his bloodstream and poison himself with those images, leaving an organ tattoo of your presence, he would. 

“I love this one,” he said, pointing at a full-body sketch of you. “I was waiting for you at the coffee shop, and you were walking towards me. I love it. I was so excited to see you. I memorized what you wore.” 

This sketchbook stayed with him all the time; he felt like he was bringing you with him, like a kid refusing to let go of their blanket. You wouldn’t know anything about that. The beautiful boy in your arms admired you constantly, from the farthest corner of his soul to the tip of his button nose, and you wouldn’t know anything about it. 

“I draw you all the time,” he added. “I will never forget what you look like, but I always want to remember.” 

The implications of that didn’t fly over your head. His addition to telling you the truth disabled your ability to attribute the fact that he draws you in his free time to him being artistic. But more than being afraid of rejection, you feared a mutual connection. The only thing worse than you finding Hyunjin loveable was him finding that you were as well. 

“Do you know why?” he asked, looking at you expectantly. 

You wavered. You hadn’t spoken since he showed you his sketches. “Why?”

Hyunjin stared at you. Within the drunken fog of his eyes, there was earnestness. “Because I love you too.”

You didn’t know what to say, and you wouldn’t. There was solace in choosing to believe that he didn’t mean it. When tomorrow arrives, and he returns sober, you wouldn’t speak of this conversation at all. When night comes tomorrow, and he’s had a full day of rest, Hyunjin would vividly recall how you took care of him and told him you loved him, and he would draw you again. 

“Do you like them?”

His question snapped you out of your trance. Your sight blurred through a sudden quake before it focused on his face. Hyunjin pouted, his fingers tapping patiently at his notebook for your response. You softened with love and squeezed him in a hug, a smile blooming on your face. 

“I’ve never liked anything more,” you complimented, “except for you!”

His legs kicked when you nuzzled your face to the back of his neck. His heart filled, like the sun could fill up a piece of land and the moon could fill up a river, and in return for his joy, he let out a boisterous laugh. He didn’t hear how it sounded with yours. Still, it was such a wondrous thing. Your love was such a wondrous thing.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz x y/n #skz x oc #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x oc #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x gender neutral reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Sleeping Where I Shouldn't | Stray Kids Extra Member AU

Nicholas has a habit of falling asleep. Getting his makeup done, laying on one of the boys, during a Vlive, and many more examples. I made a compilation of times we saw Nick sleeping in the background. - random fan | Or 3 times the camera caught Nicholas sleeping, and the 1 time they didn't.

(@cafekitsune made the dividers)

1. Sleepy Lives

Chris was filming a Chan's Room episode. He was in the middle of answering someone's question about Nicholas, ironically, when he caught someone's comment.

"Nick is asleep?" Chris repeated, tilting his head in confusion. He watched the comments pour in. All talking about Nicholas falling asleep during his live.

"Wait, he's live now?" Chris asked, laughing softly as he grabbed his phone. Quickly, he checked Nick's live and laughed at the sight: Nicholas leaning on his folded arms with his hood halfway off his head. Someone placed a box of hair clips next to him.

"He was talking about me?" Chris asked, looking at someone saying 'He fell asleep talking about you'

Just then, his door opened, and in peeked a laughing Jisung.

"Are you live?" The younger asked, looking between Chan and whoever was outside.

"Yeah, what happened?" Chris laughed.

"Nick fell asleep and now Hyunjin and Felix are putting clips in his hair," Jisung laughed, screaming when Jeongin yanked him back outside.

2. Driving Sleep

After a long day of work, everyone was headed home. Hyunjin, Felix, Minho, and Nicholas were in the same car. Minho is recording from his seat in the front, with Hyunjin and Felix sitting in the middle. Nicholas was eating a cookie in the far back.

"Look at them." Minho angled the camera at the trio behind him. Hyunjin waved while Felix giggled out 'Hello!'

"Is he sleeping?"

They both turned around. Nick was lying with his head back, a cookie in his mouth, and his left arm across his lap. The container of cookies pressed against his thigh by his hand.

"Nick?" Hyunjin called, flinching when Minho hit him. He glared at a laughing Felix before looking at Minho.

"Be quiet!" The older whispered. He turned the camera and zoomed in on Nick's face, laughing softly when the cookie crumbled out of his mouth.

3. Backstage Naps

They'd just gotten off stage, sweaty and tired, immediately sitting on the closest furniture. Jisung and Jeongin collapsed onto a couch with Nicholas lying across them. His legs propped onto Jisung's lap and his torso across Jeongin's body, head tucked into his neck. The trio were asleep with a fan pointed towards them.

In front of them, on the floor, was Chan. His head leaned back against Jisung's leg with his hand raised limply held in Nicholas' hand.

1. Practice Depletion

"I can't tell who looks smaller, Changbin or Nicholas."

Minho, Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin stood over Changbin and Nicholas in the practice room. They could hear Chan, Hyunjin, and Felix laughing at them from their spots on the floor.

Changbin lay on the floor with Nicholas curled beside him, both asleep. Nick lay on his side, back pressed into Changbin's side, in a fetal position. One of Chanbin's arms lay under Nicholas' head as a pillow against the hard floor.

Nicholas Ross Master List

©️DEANAMEANTAE2023

Tags list: …

#deantae nicholas ross #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member #skz x 9th member #skz x reader #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x male reader #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz x oc #stray kids x oc #stray kids with the 9th member #stray kids extra member #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios

[txtmetonight]

For Him ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ Chan is quite puzzling. But you're determined to break his walls.

pairing *. * Bang Chan x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Fluff, Harry Potter AU

warnings *. Crude language (just one word lol)

call duration⋆ ★ 1.4k

a/n*. * I'm back in my hp phases lol and while I'm doing that, I'm pushing my chan wolf agenda yay

You suppose you’ve always known about Chan’s mysterious life. And then again, you suppose you always loved him since you were eleven, just as you placed your eyes on him onto the Hogwarts Express. But he is a tricky person to figure out and someone who doesn’t want to be broken down into pieces and given to another to be investigated upon.

Yet he still lets you do so in the very manner as you sit next to him with a full glory on your lips.

You used to wonder why you were the only one that he would let get close, but now as you stare at him with big eyes that hold much adoration, you’ve come to realize how grateful you are.

Chan is puzzling but god he’s a sweetheart when it comes down to it, always a gentleman and always with gentle love beating in his heart for anyone and everyone. Though he reckons that his organ is a little more honeyed for you though, not that he would ever admit it.

For he lives in the shadows of his past and present, and through a fear that he believes in will conjure into reality. And so, he hides a part of himself from you. You despise it very much from the bottom of your heart. You really do. You want to be his but he’s holding himself back and it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

The first time you chipped away a little deeper than he wanted to show, was when you were fed up with the white lies that slipped through his teeth.

When he excused his absences for something so abnormal you thought he was mental almost. Every once a month he left you alone with your thoughts over something so trivial or something extreme–just an explanation that made your head spin. So, you had the bright idea to follow him.

Everyone knows of the curfew set in place every night, yet he seemed to have a justification for doing so…why?

Your footsteps were quiet when against the floor and you held your breath, hiding amongst the dark and following the footsteps in the moonlight that shone brightly. It was a full moon.

You’ve known the castle like it was the back of your hand, 3 years since coming and the footsteps you’ve marked were etched in the back of your mind. And you very quickly realized where Chan was going–to the whomping willow. Your lips shivered to cry out to him, to ask him what he was doing but you clap your hands over your mouth when he starts to violently shake against the wind. He collapses. And the clouds reveal the luminous light in the sky.

Before your eyes, his hair shrinks back into his skull, and his body changes. You both see the same things, yet he feels it with pure disgust and embarrassment when his bones grow and rip underneath his skin.

But your perception is different because when he looks into the reflection of the deepest lake and sees a monster staring back at him, you see Chan. Not just a werewolf, but Chan, your lover. And you know that for sure when your nerves tingle with endearment as you stare at him in awe. He’s quite magnificent, you can note when he turns back to escape into the woods.

The second time you cracked it even more was 2 years later when O.W.L’s took over your brain, alongside Chan. Every single night, since that fateful day, you’ve found yourself stalking over the gardens to watch him on the full moon.

But you don’t dare to tell him that; you want him to feel like he has the right to tell you when he has gotten over his fear. Then so, you’ve trained yourself to go blind-eyed every moment except for that night. You suppose you could be selfish.

Chan is lonely. He carries a deep burden in his heart, and it aches to be released, not on its own but in the hands of another where they can sing a lullaby to soothe the pain. And you knew that it was going to be in front of you, but it left a sense of a hole in your heart when you saw him cry. You still sing to him, though.

“Hey Channie, what’s wrong?” You ask, wiping away the peals that streak down his cheeks. His face is flushed red, and he sniffles miserably. He doesn’t say anything, so you move in a little closer to place your hand over his heart, lips just ghosting over fingers at where it lies.

“I feel like, there’s something wrong with me.”

You look up to look at him, but he’s already staring at you with deep fondness in your eyes, you think that you’re going to tear up too. But you don’t. You question instead. “And why is that pretty boy?”

“Oh, I wish you would stop calling me that” He weakly chuckles. “But…I dunno why. I just–just know that there is something wrong with me. Like definite, for sure. And I hate it. It hurts, I suppose. I think it’s puncturing my brain.”

Chan sobs the last word before you grab his jaw and pull him, so your forehead gently tapped against his. Both pairs of eyes close and you realize how much your love runs deep for him. Again, where he feels nothing is where you’re encased in everything for him. For him.

The 3rd time is now, just after a year. You think. You hope his stone wall will shatter soon to let you in.

When the night is young, and the moon rises, you watch with curious intent as Chan drinks out of a gauntlet and shivers with grimace before the potion's professor with great urgency pushes him towards the hills that envelop around the school.

You follow him and it brings you great Deja vu that wraps around your stomach. Yet this time, rather than just breaking the mere school rules, you’re breaking the law by becoming an unregistered Animagus. Perhaps you’re a dunderhead, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You want to keep him company.

When the willow ceases its chaos, you slip past the hole near the trunk. Howls and whimpers echo but you don’t pay any attention. The shrieking shack is known for its ghostly activities but not for the true trauma that happens within the wooden boards. How Chan is in great pain because he is in love with someone whom he can’t have. Just because of himself and who he truly is; a bloodthirsty creature.

Yet he’s truly Chan when you strut your way into the broken-down living room, It’s truly Chan when he doesn’t attack you, and he growls against the moonlight. And it truly Chan when nudges you with his nose for a sense of doting that he craves.

You give it to him and lie on the floor, where he joins you. Your ear is near his pulse, and you feel it thrum alive against you, beating harder and harder. The thick wall is about to crumble, you reckon.

When it comes time for dawn to rise, Chan is Chan again, so you painfully twist back into who you are. Where the hardwood floor lies, instead is your boy, who scoops you on top of him. His eyes are glistening with tears and his lips quiver. Your fingers begin to tangle themselves into curls, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Neither of you have tried to get up yet.

“How long have you known?”

“Since 3rd year. You’re very handsome has anyone told you that?”

He turns pink but shakes his head no. You kiss him once more.

“Turning into an animagus…why would you do that for me. Go through all the trouble. You don’t have to.” He speaks. He starts to cry now.

As for his question, you decide that you don’t have anything else to offer but the truth. “I love you, Channie.”

He scoffs, “Am I not a monster? I could tear you…you apart if I got too out of control. I’m sick in the head and outside of it, do you not understand? You deserve better.”

You tug at his hair which results in a wince, but you move up closer to his lips, just where they hover above them. His breathing stills and he thinks that you’re a complete stunner in his eyes. You think the same if not more.

“And who is to say that except for myself. You’re not a monster, you’re just Chan who can’t eat spicy food. And I’m (Y/n) who’s been in love with you since the very fucking beginning.”

And then you kiss him hard, expressing unsaid emotions into that kiss, starting to tear up when he reciprocates, his fingers gripping your waist making you feel dizzy. When you two pull apart, Chan chuckles as he wipes away a stray tear.

“You’re so beautiful it hurts me. I love you too.”

You’ve completely broken in.

#skz x reader #chan x reader #k-labels #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #bang chan x reader #bang chan #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids x oc #skz #skz angst #skz scenarios #skz channie #skz imagines #skz stay #bang chris #harry potter au #chan x you #chan x y/n #chan skz #chan stray kids #bang chan stray kids #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop ff #kpop

[straykeedz]

© 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐳'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | [☕️] | [ao3]

𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 🏐 ; 🍓; 🌻 ; 🐊 ; 🎀 ; 🧶 ; 🐢 ; 🦋; 🩵 ; 🍒; ☆ ;

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 1𝐬𝐭 2023 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝: 22𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 2024 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 ; 𝐛𝐜

𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐨 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 💻

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒:

𝐨𝐭8

kinktober 2023 (28/31 done)

9mitm (6/8 done)

first time with skz (6/8 done)

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧

beginnings. -> established relationship

unholy. (+ scb) -> binchan threesome

moonlight. -> established relationship, car sex

virgin!bang chan. -> requested

the innocence is gone. -> virgin!chan, first time

thoughts -> 01 , 02 , riding dom!chan ;

small penis humiliation with chan. ;

chan taking care of you when you’re sick. (f)

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰

goodnight. -> established relationship

ikigai. -> husband!au

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧

late night confessions. -> roommates!au, f2l

unholy. (+ bc) -> binchan threesome

how seo changbin saved christmas. -> established relationship

thoughts: hard -> 01 ; soft -> dad!changbin ;

𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

dirty little secret. -> established relationship, getting caught

the taste of lust. -> semi-public sex, studio sex

thoughts -> 01 ;

𝐡𝐚𝐧

red-handed. -> fwb, getting caught

high on you. -> w dealer jisung

sub!jisung.

reward. (+ lf) -> throuple

𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱

bad romance. -> college!au, bad boy felix

blizzard. -> virgin!reader, first time

obsession. -> yandere!felix

reward. (+ hjs) -> throuple

you take a long time to cum. -> new relationship

𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧

the one that got away. (coming soon) -> exes2lovers

riding mean dom seungmin. -> requested

𝐢.𝐧.

coming soon…

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

-> 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬! "𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧", 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝.

#skz #stray kids #stray kids masterlist #skz masterlist #bangchan #felix #leeknow #i.n. #seungmin #changbin #han #hyunjin #new writers corner #more coming soon #coming soon #stray kids x oc #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids drabbles #skz smut #skz angst #skz x reader #skz drabbles #skz fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #straykeedz

[crookedt44th]

STRAY KIDS RANDOM TEXTS

GENRE — the funny , smau , gn!reader , bestfriend!skz

content warning — a lot of cursing on minho part, felix being pissed , kinda suggestive joke (hyunjin) , mention of murder attempt & jail , mention of a suicide joke, lmk if more 🗣️‼️🙏

skz texts pt.2 here!!

A/N: boredom gets the best of me 💪💪💪

#stray kids #stray kids texts #stray kids smau #stray kids x reader #stray kids x oc #stray kids x y/n #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #seo changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #kim seungmin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #bang chan #lee know #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin

[rachalixie]

hi hi! im really really struggling and i was wondering if you could write a fic where reader is super sick and weak, chan normally cares for her but he's away so he leaves changbin and minho on care duty? and maybe even felix?

i dunno, im super sick and weak myself so my brain is a bit messy😰 😰😰😰

a.n: hi honey! im so sorry this took me so long!! i hope you’re at least feeling a bit better now 💕

“are you sure?” chan says, hesitating as he laces up his sneakers. “i can stay. i can cancel my meeting, reschedule-”

“chan. hyung. go.” changbin says, pushing chan towards the door, steadying him when he stumbled but insisting nonetheless that he leave. felix nods encouragingly, sitting next to your bundled up form on the couch. you can barely even feel the blanket that chan had burritoed you into hours ago from how long you’ve been sitting like that. you can barely think, let alone speak, otherwise you would be pushing chan towards the door right alongside changbin.

“okay! okay.” chan says, finally twisting the doorknob open to step outside, only to be met with minho, one hand poised to knock and a convenience store bag full of medicines and soup and snacks in the other.

“thank goodness, you’re here,” chan says, wrapping minho in a tight bear hug for a second before scampering off, leaving changbin and felix with indignant scowls and minho with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“hi, honey,” minho coos at you as he walks through the door, kneeling by you and feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. the convenience store bag is left forgotten for a second, his attention on you, as if you were one of his beloved cats. you can’t say you hate the attention, minho always made you feel cared for in a way that no one else ever had. “how are you feeling?”

“bad. fuzzy.” you say, not knowing how else to describe what was happening to you. you had woken up in the middle of the night, sweating buckets but shivering at the same time, burning hot on the outside and freezing cold on the inside. you felt like your brain was working at 5% of its normal capacity, you felt absolutely delirious, your emotions were dialed up to a 10, and you just wanted to cuddle with chan and let him soak up the bad feelings until they went away.

but therein lies the current predicament - chan had a big meeting today, one that he couldn’t miss. as much as he wanted to stay with you and you wanted him to, you knew he couldn’t, so he texted his members to see which ones were free to take care of you while he was gone. felix and changbin entered minutes later, not easing his anxiety at leaving you alone one bit. it wasn’t that he didn’t think they cared for you, because he knew they did, it was that these were the most overzealous members that could have walked through the door. they were a bit overbearing, a little too loud, a little too unsure of their actions no matter how much they intended to help. they didn’t have the nurturing nature of minho, or the caring personality of hyunjin, or the level-headedness of seungmin, so you could understand his relief when minho materialized.

“sounds like not a lot of fun, hmm?” minho’s soft voice infiltrates your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. his cool hand is still on your forehead, and you find yourself nuzzling into it, making a noise of content and closing your eyes. “let’s get some medicine in you and you can nap for a bit, how does that sound?” he says, gesturing to felix to get water for you and for changbin to pop open the pill bottle of tylenol that he brought.

“i brought some with ice and some without, i didn’t know which?” an eager felix says, entering the room with two tall glasses of water, one sweating with condensation.

“good, yongbokkie,” minho says, taking both and leaving the iced one on the table as changbin deposits two pills into your hand after sitting on the couch next to you. “one for the pills, and one for when (y/n) gets thirsty later.” he guides your hand to your mouth, helping you lethargically tip the pills in before raising the cool water to your lips. once you swallow the pills, you slump back into the couch, exhausted after just sitting up for a minute.

changbin fluffs up a pillow for you and places it in his lap, gently guiding your head down until you’re laying sideways, and felix plops himself back on the couch by your feet and places them in his lap, massaging them gently. the movement made you dizzy and lightheaded, but minho’s fingers brushing your hair off your forehead and changbin and felix’s light touches help ground you, until your breathing slows into sleep.

—

you wake hours later to chan’s gentle voice in the room talking to minho, making your heartbeat sing at the thought of your person being back with you. opening your eyes felt impossible right now, so you let out a soft whine and unfurl your hand from where it was fisted into the blanket, hoping that he would hear you. it seems that he did, since he was at your side in less than a second, gripping your weak hand in both of his and kissing your knuckles over and over.

“hi, love,” he croons into your hand. “did these boys take good care of you?” you hum happily in response, feeling a little more lucid than you had before.

“mmhmm”, you say, finally prying open your eyes to meet his shining ones, full of endearment. “min made me soup and fed it to me. lix rubbed my feet. changbin looked pretty.”

he giggled, and you smile back, feeling better already.

which helps, because he became sick two days later, and you got to take care of him this time.

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #soft #changbin imagines #lee felix imagines #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #skz chan fluff #bang chan fluff #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #chan x y/n #chan x you #chan x reader #stray kids x oc #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x you

[j-a-nuary]

In Which Contact Names Are Changed

| Part 1 | ... | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | ... |

Stray Kids Masterlist | In Which... | Seventeen Masterlist

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids x oc #stray kids fic #stray kids smau #stray kids texts #stray kids fake texts #skz fanfic #skz x oc #skz fic #skz smau #skz texts #skz fake texts #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x oc #seventeen fic #seventeen smau #seventeen texts #seventeen fake texts #svt fanfic #svt x oc #svt fic #svt smau #svt texts #svt fake texts #In Which...

[skz-saja]

##SAJA FANMADE VIDEO!

“stray kids loving saja”

( stray kids 9th member au )

bold sentences are spoken in english

clip 1 ↯ hey, sweetheart

Chan was doing a live for a Chan’s Room episode, when there was the sound of a door opening and closing and Saja suddenly walked into frame. Chan looked up, smiling fondly at his tired looking maknae, his dimples showing. “Hey, sweetheart.” He said in English. The endearing nickname coined by both Chan and Felix always warmed the hearts of Stays whenever it was said publicly, as it always showed how much they cared for each other.

“Hi, oppa.”

Saja tiredly rubbed her eyes as she sat down, and Chan had to hold in a coo. Saja was just too adorable when she was tired. “I was about to go to bed,” Saja began, looking into the camera, “but I decided to say goodnight to Stay.” Saja smiled widely, reading comments and giggling lightly. She only stayed for a minute or two, answering a few questions as she rested her head against Chan’s shoulder. When she left, she waved goodbye, giving another warm smile towards the camera. “Goodnight everybody!”

She said goodnight to Chan as well, and Chan couldn’t help but to grin, eyes glittering with warmth as he said goodnight back. This was a Chan and Saja moment—a Sajan moment, if you will—that was talked about a lot. Everyone loved it when Chan gave the members heart eyes—especially Saja.

clip 2 ↯ minho goes soft

In this clip, it was a video taken from the perspective of an audience, and Stray Kids were on stage interacting with Stay. Saja could be seen walking around, a slight smile on her face, before she froze in space, jaw dropping in shock. Tears gathered in her eyes by the time Minho came in front of her, resting a hand on her shoulder, brows furrowing in concern.

Minho was asking if she was alright, and Saja nodded before breaking out into a teary grin. She said something into Minho's ear, pointing up into the audience. Minho followed her line of sight, before smiling softly, and bowing. He then wrapped an arm around Saja, pulling her into his side as he kept talking, all with the same smile.

It was later revealed that Saja's mom was in the audience as a surprise, and it had been so long since Saja had seen her that she couldn’t help but to get so emotional. They later reunited backstage after the show.

clip 3 ↯ “I CANNOT MOVE. I CAN’T.”

The clip starts with Saja sleeping peacefully on someone’s lap, her cheek slightly squished against their leg, making her pout the tiniest bit. The person Saja is sleeping on is running their fingers through her hair softly, and delicately.

The camera moves up and shows that it’s Changbin, who has the softest smile on his face as he looks down at her.

clip 4 ↯ cuddlebug #1 & cuddlebug #2

On the set for the ‘Case 143’ music video, Felix was talking to a camera when Saja jumped into view. “Lixie!”

Felix laughs lightly. “Sara!”

“How are we doing today?” Saja grinned, wrapping her arms around Felix. Felix smiled fondly, hugging her and pulling her close. “I am doing wonderful.”

clip 5 ↯ jaws are ON THE FLOOR

They were on set for the ‘거미줄 (VENOM)’ music video, and Saja was the only one left in the makeup chair, meaning everyone was waiting on her. Not that she was late or taking an insane amount of time—she just ended up being last to finish.

She was wearing her black leather outfit, and her eye makeup was dark. She had to admit—she looked good.

When she was finally done and back on her way to the others—a camera following behind her—Jisung, Hyunjin, and Jeongin were the first to see her. Their jaws dropped, and you already know that Jisung started hyping her up.

He was jumping around her, telling her how good she looked while Jeongin insisted on doing a round of applause—as in, going around her in circles and clapping.

"Flawless." Hyunjin stated, nodding in certainty.

Saja laughed, but couldn't help but to get all shy from all the complements. The dust of red on her cheeks was a total contrast from her form fitted black faux leather top, baggy black pants, and black boots.

"Aww," Jisung cooed, "is someone getting shy?" He squeezed her shoulders with a playful glint in his eye.

"Cute." Hyunjin grinned, pinching her cheek.

Later on, while reviewing some recordings on the monitor, Saja was on the screen, and Jisung began aggressively shaking her shoulders while Jeongin cheered. She looked completely different onscreen rather than her actually naturally shy self, you’d almost get whiplash from how fast she can change when the cameras start rolling.

clip 6 ↯ bickering one moment, cuddling the next

It wasn’t uncommon to see Seungmin and Saja bickering—nothing serious, of course. But it also wasn’t uncommon to see how much Seungmin cared for Saja.

Saja was a very huggy person, so he always made sure she got her hugs. He checked to make sure she was taking care of herself often, including this moment during their maniac tour, when it was clear that Saja was pushing herself too hard. Fans assume that Saja may be sleep deprived, and overworking herself, and on this night of the tour, she was looking quite exhausted. Seungmin, as well as the others, were seen constantly checking that she was all right through glances from the corners of their eyes or pats on her shoulder. At a moment when they were talking with the audience, Seungmin pulled Saja into his side, saying something into her ear with worried eyes. It was a very endearing moment between the two, though upsetting to see Saja in that state.

##note: yes, the changbin one was inspired by that one clip of him when hyunjin was sleeping on his lap. i couldn’t help myself 🤭

##taglist: @g4m3girl

( everyone is accepted to this taglist! if you want to be added, just let me know and you’re set <3 )

© skz-saja

#saja-youtube #platonic #no romantic relationships #stray kids 9th member #stray kids ninth member #stray kids female member #stray kids addition #stray kids added member #stray kids #skz #stray kids x oc #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee felix x reader #han jisung x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #skz-saja; sajan #skz-saja; minja #skz-saja; changja #skz-saja; hyunja #skz-saja; jisaja #skz-saja; sajlix #skz-saja; sajmin #skz-saja; sajin

[lyramundana]

MASTERLIST

The only things I won't write about are:

-Rape/any non-consensual sexual activities where one of the parties is forced and has an horrible time. Either they all enjoy it or nothing happens.

-Explicit use of drugs. If I happen to mention them, it'll be only for recreational uses.

-Obviously, any hint of pedophilia is off the table. I don't want a single suggestion about it in my blog. I'll delete it and block you.

-Age regression/Daddies&Littles play. I don't feel comfortable with it.

-Infidelity (at least not when Skz members are the victims of it)

Outside of that, I'm pretty much open to everything. If the topic in particular makes me uncomfortable, I'll let it know, but mostly it's all in the previous ones.

❗Attention, this post is about to be remodelled and updated into a masterlist, so it'll be changing things progressively. I have no idea how to make a masterlist, but I'm on it❗

POLY MINSUNG STUFF:

My reblogs

My content:

AUs: Masterlist My OC/Violeta's body

Random thoughts: Possesiveness Conflictive emotions Vivi bullying Minho (affectionately) Minho getting princess treatment Territorialism Admiration In the pool/beach Being possessive (again) Oblivious

Imagines: Surrogate mother Minho's gaze Bodyguards Jealousy Pouty Babies Minho's babygirl treatment Jisung being flustered Teasing them Family au Heart vs brain Staring Lucky kiss Matchmaker Jisung with his son vs Minho with his daughter

Hard thought: Lactation kink

Headcanons: Babies's relationship Non-sexual dynamic Sexual dynamic

Drabbles: Heartbeats Scented Jealousy, Jealousy

My asks/requests:

Sweet Kitty(MinSung x Stay! Reader)

Yandere! MinSung x Reader

Alpha! Minho & Reader x Omega! Jisung

Don't Play Dumb (MinSung having a bi awakening with their neighbour)

Crimson Contract au!

Ass and boobs guys

Naughty MinSung Roommates

MinSung using you to relieve stress

Handsome and pretty boys

Boypussy! Jisung

Pushing Minho into subspace

Requests:

Minho's lessons

Headcanons

Protective MinSung

Stay! Reader scenarios

Alpha! MinSung x Omega! Reader

Yandere! MinSung x 9th fem! member

Punishing Han

One night stand and the aftermath

Sucking off Minho together

Toxic! MinSung x 9th fem! member

Perv! MinSung x Innocent! Reader

MinSung being babygirls

Subby! MinSung being spoiled and more

Slighty toxic! MinSung

Skinship headcanons

Shy pervert! Reader

Chubby fem! Reader

Comforting chubby fem! Reader

9th fem! Reader getting close with the members

Who confesses first?

Punishing Jisung out of jealousy

HAN JISUNG

My works

Voyeurism

Jealousy

How he looks at her

Request:

Rockstar! Jisung

Sucking his tongue

Being jealous over him

LEE KNOW/LEE MINHO

My works:

Jealousy

Hypocresy (tied to the poly minsung verse)

My asks:

Fight so dirty (tied to the poly minsung verse)

CHRISTOPHER BANG/BANG CHAN

Request:

Yandere! Chris when his Darling attempts to escape

Yandere! Chris's stalking

Dad! Chris thoughts

OT8

Yandere! Stray Kids when their Darling likes someone else

Yandere! Chan & Minho as secret admirers

Yandere Chan & Jisung

ANTI-DELULU TIME WITH RUBY

DELULU TIME WITH SORSHA:Pt 1 Lady Marmalade inspired Measuring thighs Seeing her twerk Kpop Virus AU Masks Three-way dance

#masterlist #navigation #stray kids x reader #stray kids x oc

[atolua]

𖥻       SPECULATIONS ABOUT STRAY KIDS' HAN AND ATEEZ'S LUA ARISE !

❪ 240405 ❫       /       published on april 4 , 2024

have stray kids' han and ateez's lua reconciled their relationship?

members of the online community are eager to gain answers regarding the relationship status of the two idols. these speculations come about shortly after han opened his personal instagram. while his feed are currently filled with short vocal covers, two posts have roused curiosity among stays.

four days after covering until i found you by stephen sanchez, han posted himself singing beautiful things by benson boone. both are known to be songs surrounding longing and adoration—themes that can be associated with his previous relationship with lua.

to add fuel to the fire, lua had just celebrated her birthday on april 1. from what can be discerned in the photos uploaded on her own personal instagram, she wasn't alone on her special day:

both idols and their agencies have remained mum on the speculations.

❪ WHAT DO NETIZENS THINK ? ❫

[ +72 , -127 ] if they're not together then that's the worst late april fools joke in the history of aprils

[ +153 , -65 ] on a silly little side note this is an excellent way to promote han's new instagram account

[ +88 , -14 ] i love my parents but lua could have easily spent the day with anyone like inka or one of the girls from pandora or any other close friend or family

[ +235 , -92 ] it's not that i'm nosy or curious but like............... what if they had never broken up in the first place ??

[ +316 , -119 ] gonna go back to hibernation wake me up once they're out of their divorce era

❑ TAGLIST  ..  @stealanity @ateezivy @cixrosie @alixnsuperstxr @lost-leopard-beanie @fairiepoems — send an ask / dm to be added !

#ficnetfairy #୫ ⋄ … articles ˖ better an oops than a what if #ateez 9th member #ateez addition #ateez additional member #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #fictional idol community #kpop addition #fictional idol oc #idol oc #stray kids x oc #skz x oc

[theysaidhush]

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Chapter 2: Never meet your idol.

Tic. Tock.

It was the only sound in the otherwise empty room Athéna was sitting in. She was vaguely - to not say hyper - aware of the place she was in. It was Bang Christopher Chan's studio. As in, the leader of Stray Kids, the hot topic between the trainees who aspired to be just like him. Successful.

And she was no exception to the rule. He was a role model and she quite enjoyed some of their musics. She wouldn't call herself a Stay, though, regarding the fact that she was lacking in the 'know-your-idols' department. She knew their names, their position, and that they were hot as hell. Like everyone she stumbled across them in JYP's corridor, greeted them politely. But she was another face, she didn't expect them to recognize her.

Muffled voice interrupted her train of thought and she looked up from the expensive equipment on the desk before the couch, her mouth still slightly agape at the mere idea of the cost of those things.

Saying that she was nervous would be an understatement - she was almost vibrating due to her nervousness and the anxious back and forth motion that her legs were making in front of her, as if it had its own mind. But the sight of Stray Kids' manager - that she met a few times before to discuss her stay in the group - was enough to ease her worry. A bit.

Another silhouette followed him into the room. Smaller, but broader. There he was. The famous, friendly and attractive Aussie public known as Chan. She was delighted. She was frightened. She was looking expectant.

"Miss."

Only for one of her role model to ignore her ans sit on the chair. The producer's chair. The master's chair. It was fitting him well enough.

"Hi! Nice to meet you, my name is Athéna and I'm looking forward to working with you!"

Her outburst and bubbly giggles at the sight of their little jump almost made Chan regret his decision. Almost.

"Nice to meet you to."

Again, Chan did not utter a word. The young woman was looking thoroughly at his facial features and expression. He was tired, that much she could tell, but it was actually the only thing she could tell. He was good at looking at the ceiling with a blank face. He must have been practicing to be that good. It was admirable, since Athéna herself could not do such thing. She was 'an open book' - her friend's words, not hers.

"Do you have the contract? Did you read it, as instructed?"

She hummed in a sing-song toned and carefully, with both hands, handed the stack of papers to the man cladded in a suit. It was such a formal outfit for something so... basic. Since he was busy reading through the documents, she took the opportunity to take a better look at the man who would be his manager in a matter of days.

His apparence was not fancy looking at all, despite the fact that he was wearing a suit. Her eyes trailed over his whole body - in a respectful way, thank you very much, and her eyes scrutinized his shirt during a whole minute. Something was bothering her. Why did she not considered him as being dress 'fancily' despite the fact that he was wearing the whole attire of the business man.

And it clicked! Her mouth open, forming a small round shape as she laid back on the couch, her round eyes trailing toward the ceiling. His shirt was not ironed - in fact it was a bit wrinkled here and there, but she was no one to judge.

Tic. Tock.

"How well can you talk in Korean?"

"Like a high schooler. With lot of slangs and all, that's the first thing you memorize when you learn a language." she chipped, her eyes darting toward the flickering light of Chan's phone. Was he playing a game?

Well he wasn't anymore. His and the manager's eyes were fixated on her, a bit unsettled at the way she was behaving. She was being questioned about her future, wasn't it important enough for her to just answer politely and appropriately? Not that she was impolite anyway, her talk was just a bit...unusual.

"They said that I'll have to take classes. I mean, I definitely see where they're coming from, not gonna lie. But they could have been nicer about it!"

She was on the verge of whining but hold her composure. They were questioning her about her future, so she had to behave. And she was trying really hard! To the point that she was quite proud of herself.

"The higher ups?" The manager asked, flipping through the last page of the contract. At that, Chan's head perked up from his game - yes he do was playing Flappy Bird, she would recognize that bird anywhere. She hates that game. It requires a patience that she can't have.

"Yes. They're not very talkative. They say lot of things. Little that I understand and even little more that I want to understand." she answered vaguely, her voice dropping an octave and her usual cheerful voice disappearing for a minute.

"Your Korean is not that bad. But you couldn't hold a conversation."

"Am I not?"

It flew past her lips before she could even stop it. It wasn't mean, sarcastic, ironic or such thing - which surprised Chan, who had tighten his grip around his phone before looking up at her dumbfounded face. She seemed genuine. Like she really wanted to hear the answer to her question. Or she was dumb. Or playing dumb. And she was good at it.

Mean thoughts, mean thoughts!

Chan wouldn't allow himself to be mean to someone just because he was upset. It was a big no no. Yet, he stil find himself attached to his phone the very first minute he entered the room. The minute his eyes landed on her face he had wanted to scream, yell his lungs out and break a thing or two; and he wasn't a violent man - now imagine if he was.

As if putting a female in their group wasn't enough, she had to be a foreigner. God bless the foreigner, he wasn't racist either. She could have been asian, it was almost the bare minimum to debut in a K-pop group - or at least hope to. But she had big, round, wavering eyes flitting from thing to another in a matter of seconds. They put a damn female in his, in their group, and she was a foreigner.

It was the reason he was trying so hard to beat his own record at flappy bird - but it seems like this bird is too stupid to go beyond eleven pillars, and he's even more upset now. He did not wanted to lash out on her, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to her either.

"I mean -" the manager fidgeted on his seat, trying to pick up the next words carefully, she was a smartass, and he did not want to be upset over such a topic "You couldn't hold a conversation about music, could you ? Like, explaining in details why you chose to do a thing over another thing - artistic choice."

"Oh." Athéna nodded before agreeing, "No I couldn't."

"That's why you'll take Korean classes."

"Okay!"

Scratch that, she wasn't a smartass. She was just a bit lost - and maybe high on life.

"Anything else you want to discuss?"

"Hum."

Tic. Tock.

As she was, once again, looking at the ceiling, raking her brain for any questions of any remarks she wanted to make, the manager - she should really ask for his name, nudge Chan with his elbow and gave him the document with a sharp glare meaning 'read it'.

The latter hold back a huff but eventually opened the first page, wanting to get it done fast.

Yellow! Green! Orange!

Chan's eyes got attacked by the amount of post-it stuck here and there, at every corner and on every page. He screw up his eyes, trying to get a better look at the messy writing hidden among drawings of puppies and kittens. But he eventually managed not to get lost in the pet's haven and his brows furrowed at the words written on the paper. He expected it to be small notes about things she wanted to point out or questions that was running in circles in her mind but it was none of that. He was overwhelmed by the huge amount of vocabulary words translated in... well another language. Now, on top of being upset, he was feeling concerned for the girl absentmindedly playing with the hem of her sweater.

"Did you translate all of that by yourself?"

"Yes. It took me some time actually. I'm way better at talking Korean than reading it and there was lot of words that I did know, just not said that politely, if it makes sense?"

Chan did not answer and his gaze flickered for a second towards her rocking legs before going back to the contract.

"Are you sure that you understood all of it?"

"Well, I hope WordReference did."

How could she be so - so uncaring about the whole situation! The Australian was beyond upset but he did not knew exactly why. Was it because she was not giving a fuck about the predicament she was putting them in? Was he mad at those damn shareholder for not giving her the appropriate tools to understand such thing as an employment contract? Or was it because a small part of him - the green part he hated so much, was a bit envious at her? She was so easy-going.

"Do you think they'll make me cut my hair if I say that it doesn't grow well after being cut?"

"I - I don't know?"

Tic. Tock.

"Do you think they'll force me to eat chicken breast for a whole week if I ate a burger the day before?"

"Maybe?"

Chan wanted to save his discountenanced manager, he really did. But the two words in front of him were taunting him. Inked in the paper, with Athéna's signature just under it. Sealed in fate. Now, he was sure that they were trying to fuck them up.

Duration of the contract: One year.

"That's so dumb."

And the French woman's gaze turned toward her future leader's face, contorted with a smile. But not a happy one. And as he rose his eyes to meet hers - for the first time since he crossed the door, she felt like a ice bucket as been thrown at her, and that said bucket hit her right in the head. There was a saying...

His rage was swimming in his eyes like snakes in a pond; and the clock stopped ticking.

Oh, she remembers it now: never meet your idol.

⭑⭑⭑⭒⭒

=⭒ Chapter 3

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids x oc #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #poly!stray kids #poly!skz

[hanibalistic]

WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 15.1k+

warning | mentions of cheating, blood / occasions of toxic marriage / one instance of violence / not edited since the first time i posted this story​

note | the ending is essentially the same. i changed very little of the original story, only nearing the end. / forcing me to put fic into parts is heinous.

parts | one, two, three

You have had a fair share of envious moments before.

Whenever you see adorable and loving couples wandering across the streets, sipping a hot drink while letting their shared scarf do the deed of warming them up on a cold winter night, you want to gouge your eyes out to save yourself from the public display of chaste affection. But, at the same time, you cannot stop staring. If you stare long enough, you might just be able to replace the couple with you and your perfect, imaginary boyfriend. 

You have prayed for a significant other at one time or another. Who hasn’t? Discreetly whispering towards the birthday candles, the new year’s fireworks, an abrupt desperation appearing in the middle of the night when you were jolted awake. Yet, for years, the odds were not in your favor until at this exact moment when you opened your eyes after long hours of sleep you could not remember yourself ever heading to.

The sunlight was seeping through the white mesh curtains that mirrored the fabric of an expensive wedding gown, the kind that makes you gasp in awe at the bride when she wears it down the aisle. It did nothing to help with the glaring morning gaze but you could understand why people would buy it as a decoration. Those useless and overpriced curtains, no matter what, do give the room a whimsical atmosphere. If only you ever got one.

The second you laid eyes on those mesh curtains, your eyes snapped open and the grogginess you felt from just waking up vanished immediately. Those were not yours. No, definitely not. You cared too much about sleep to allow yourself an aggressive wake by the sun. Besides, you would not be caught dead spending hundreds of dollars buying a home decoration that serves no purpose other than looking pretty.

You clenched the bedsheet and gasped in both shock and awe. Talk about the softest bed sheets you have ever felt! The blanket covering your, thankfully, fully-clothed body felt like silk yet the material was thick enough to make you feel warm like you were taking a steamy hot shower and make you sleep like you were in a coma. But the same thing applied: these bedsheets never belonged to you and possibly never will.

“Oh god,” you breathed out in a whisper as your eyes rolled around the unfamiliar room.

You were stalling at this point. The heavy presence laying next to you was far too obvious for you to ignore but you were also too afraid to look. Who could it be? You hadn’t the faintest idea. You couldn’t even recall exactly what happened last night! Did you make any plans? That would be extremely unlikely. You’ve got no friends who would invite you anywhere and you’ve got no motivation to go anywhere but slack around in your apartment!

Nothing else could explain the current situation you’ve gotten yourself in, though. Nothing but you getting very drunk and possibly handing all that was sacred about you to a complete stranger.

Slowly turning your head to the side, you let your squinted eyes fall open slowly for the big reveal. The man sleeping next to you had his body turned towards your side. His lashes fluttered even when he was unmoving and his brown locks fell just above his closed eyes in the most boyish, attractive way. The bridge of his nose arched perfectly to welcome to button tip. His lips have a natural pout to them and they somehow appeared to be glittery under the sunlight.

Oh yeah, you must be drunk last night. You were sure this man was too because no way in hell would he ever want to have anything to do with you.

You stared at the man for a brief moment. Your internal thoughts went through all five stages of confusion, with all first four of them being pure confusion and the last stage being acceptance. You felt like you opened your long hidden psychic third eye after the stage of acceptance and you have never felt smarter than before. Acceptance should have been your first instinct. What else should you have done when you wake up to find yourself sleeping next to one of, if not the most, handsome man you’ve seen on Earth?

After giving your mind a nod of approval for creating such a beautiful man, you turned on your back and closed your eyes. You went back to sleep because, obviously, this was just a lucid dream.

I would let you think you were smart for a moment, [Name], but I do believe it is about time we progress with the story and learn about who the man of your dreams was, so–I’m not sorry but up we go!

You jolted awake as if you just had a nightmare, which you did not. Your body just wanted to keep you awake, it seemed. It was as if it knew you were not in the right place, or you were in a place you have never been to before, and it wanted you to stand up and discover an escape route. Sighing in defeat, your eyes blinked at the unfamiliar room you had gotten a glimpse of before you concluded that you were in a dream.

Turning your head to the side, your eyes welcomed the sight of the man you had previously admired. The only difference this time was that he was very much awake and was blatantly staring at you with a look of utter distaste that felt more common than ever. He was not the first person to give you that unamused frown and wickedly condescending gaze but it really did add more impact to it when it came from someone as good-looking as him.

“What the fuck?” you muttered out with a hasty, croaked voice.

Minho tilted his head to the side at your obnoxious reaction, then he spoke, “Why are you on my bed?”

You furrowed your brows at him, both at how nice his voice was early in the morning and in confusion to the fact that he asked you the million-dollar question. Breathing out a short laugh, you looked away from him. “I don’t know, man. I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything aside from the rules we established the first day of our marriage,” he wasted no time to say, his tone getting duller and duller as if he was really getting mad over you being on his king-sized bed.

“Oh, you’re crazy.” You rolled your eyes as you reached your hand up to ruffle your hair. 

Upon the subject at hand, it was slowly coming to light the faint weight that has been resting on your fourth finger and was completely neglected by your confused state of mind. Your ruffling slowly came to a stop and, stalling time once again, you turned over to look at the stranger who was still staring at you with distaste. Something about his lack of expression, and the weight on your hand, told you he was being honest.

“Are we married?” you asked. “The thing I am feeling on my finger is not a ring, is it?”

Minho’s gaze shifted for a moment. You seemed genuinely confused, out of your usual element if he could say so himself. Truth be told, he never really paid that much attention to you. He did once in a blue moon, never enough for your presence to stick in his head. But he could definitely tell when you weren’t being yourself, when you didn’t feel like you.

“Don’t joke around with me, [Name],” he said when he regained his usual demeanor. The theory he thought about was discarded with ease. There was absolutely no way something so fiction-like could ever happen to him. The arranged marriage aside, of course.

“You know my name?” you questioned slowly, finally sitting up now that this situation was becoming creepier. Your legs inched toward the edge of the bed to leave the soft blanket and were ready to bolt out of the room for good. “I don’t even know yours.”

“Yes, you do,” Minho said, sitting up as well. “Stop messing around. Just admit that you broke the rules and slept on my bed. This amnesia act is a waste of my time.”

You squinted your eyes at him, jaw hung open in utter disbelief. His attitude fueled nothing more than the distaste for him that was currently brewing inside you.  “Dude, I don’t fucking know who you are? Am I supposed to just guess your name? Something generic like Lee Minho?” 

He showed you a deadpan expression immediately after your voice fell. Judging by the way his shoulders dropped in annoyance, you knew for a fact that you had guessed his name correctly. That was a generic name as you mentioned. You cursed under your breath then, recognizing how your luck was completely working against your favor. 

“I–I gotta go. I have to leave!”

You let the anxiety in your body do the job as you stumbled backward and out of the bedroom. You were immediately greeted with a long and bright hallway that looked way too familiar for you to not be able to navigate around it. 

You have never been here before, but you just knew. It looked like a house straight out of a drama. With the opened curtains, the velvet carpet, the random Chinese vases located in the awkward middle, and the giant wooden patterned doors—oh god, were you on secret camera right now? Did you sign some ten-page long contract you never took the time to read?

Moving to a random direction of the hallway, you grabbed the handle of the next door you could find and opened it to head inside. The lights automatically turned on when it noticed a presence, and you found yourself in what appeared to be a walk-in closet.

It was a black and white. A very minimalistic color scheme. The orange lights made you wince because it didn’t match the atmosphere. Clothing racks lined up against the wall and eventually met each other at the end, where a tall mirror stood waiting to be used. There was a door that you guessed might lead to a bathroom and a few shelves of expensive perfume and shoes. Sitting oddly in the middle was a small round desk and a cushioned chair.

You grimaced at how obnoxious and luxurious the closet was. It was everything you could have dreamed of having. Maybe even a little beyond that. There was such a thing as too big of a closet, and the idea of actually spending that much money made your skin all itchy and irritated.

Oh, [Name]–what are you doing? You have got no time to give criticism to a rich person’s closet. You have got to figure out what the fresh hell was happening!

“This makes no sense.” You clicked your feet against the carpet floor before you started to pace around.

Marriage? Minho knowing your name yet you needed to guess his? This foreign rich land you stumbled upon? There were only four solutions you could think of after having rethink every single detail.

Exhibit A: This is still a dream.

You slapped yourself after much preparation. The pain stung you like your bare hand to a burning stove. This is not a dream, it has never been. 

It was funny to watch you slap yourself though, I have to say. 

Exhibit B: This is a television prank.

Your drama-loving, variety-show-watching freak would definitely be able to tell. Each pranking show has its distinct element to the way they execute their plan—from the setting to their actors to their fake scenarios. This was far too obvious and far too risky for any pranking show you have watched. You could cross the option off the chalkboard!

Exhibit C: Minho is madly in love with you and has kidnapped you to be his spouse!

Interesting and unbelievable. Why would someone like him need to kidnap you to keep you with him? With that face and this kind of money? You would have caved within seconds judging by how shallow your heart could be sometimes. Besides, why would someone like you intrigue him? No way. This option is off the chalkboard too.

Well, what remained was your last resort, I suppose. May I proudly present you—Exhibit D!

The door to the closet swung open, abruptly disrupting the deep-voiced narrator in your head and pulling you back into the real world… as real as it could get, at least. Snapping your head to the side, you were greeted with an unamused Minho by the doorway and your frown deepened at his unwelcoming presence.

“Why are you in my closet?” he asked, approaching you slowly.

You blinked at him and looked around. The clothes on the racks finally made themselves clearer to you, and for the first time you could see that those were men clothes. Or, at least, pieces you would never wear outside. This wasn’t your closet, but you’ve had enough to him to admit your wrongs, so yous scoffed instead.

“Is everything yours?” 

Minho raised a brow. “Besides you, yeah. I would say so.”

You closed your eyes to concentrate on holding down a fiery breath threatening to escape. Whether it was Minho or yourself it planned to head toward, exploding in the middle of a stranger’s house in an unfamiliar situation was the last thing that could help you. As much as you hated how Minho seemed to make perfect sense every time, you remained (as) calm (as you could be). 

“Whatever.” Classic comeback.  

“Whatever? No, this isn’t whatever,” Minho said, grabbing a fistful of a discarded topic and throwing it at your face. “Do we need to have another talk about boundaries?”

You furrowed your brows, but you weren’t confused this time. You were annoyed and in disbelief. His condescending tone scratched the part of your brain you learned to turn off during work hours, but since he wasn’t in charge of your finances, unlike your boss, you’ve had it up to the tip of your head with him. On second thought, you were better than this asshole! You would never agree to marry someone with this kind of shitty attitude! Exhibit C is back in the race!

“Did you kidnap me?” you asked with no reluctance.

Minho tilted his head at you, bewildered but not enough to lose his stoic expression. “Kidnap you? Why would I do that? You are the one head over heels for me ever since we got married.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you snorted loudly as you turned away from him. Then you pointed a finger at him, wanting to spat something with menace but you were stopped immediately by the diamond ring on your fourth finger.

Oh, that—that is heavy. That looked heavy and it felt heavy. How did you not feel it? You wanted to take it off and keep it in a glass box on display the second you laid your eyes on it.

“Did you force this on me?” you asked, pointing at the ring and discreetly feeling the rough diamond on your skin. Your eyes shifted slightly to glance at it and they widened on instinct. You couldn’t even begin to guess how expensive that piece of rock is and having it weighing down on your fourth finger felt like too much responsibility. “You freak! How much did you pay for this?”

Minho shook his head, continuously bewildered at the sudden questions fired towards him. “About five hundred–“

You held up your palm to shut him up. That number was all you needed to know. Judging from the way he was still trying to speak, the ring was definitely not just a mere five hundred dollars. And be it the word ‘thousand’ or ‘million,’ whichever comes out of his mouth would still make you fake barf and your heart pour blood. The only thing you could feel remotely glad about was the fact that he bought the ring.

“Also, for your information, I did not force the ring on you. We both agreed to get married. Besides, I didn’t need to force you to do anything,“ he replied. "Our parents did.”

"Our parents? What do you know about my parents–my mom and dad will never force me to marry anybody even though that is all they ever urge me to do these days!”

“[Name].”

For once, Minho’s deep and quiet voice was laced with something other than spite. His eyes were solemnly melancholic. They dropped like shadows as he gazed at you carefully. Without moving an inch, he spoke, “[Name], your parents have been dead for a year.”

Dead parents. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a trope you could work with. At least it has the capability of bringing your theory somewhere. Maybe on a path to insanity but still a route nonetheless.

Let me humbly do a recap of everything that went down. 

A big house. A rich man, a rich and handsome man, a rich and handsome man who hates you, a rich and handsome man who hates you because you two were stuck in an arranged marriage. Dead parents.

"Oh my god,” you gasped under your breath as the reality dawned upon your once clueless mind. Everything was so clear after you figured out all the key elements, it almost felt like you could calculate the physics of the parallel universe and the meaning of existence!

You are stuck in a drama!

After some wild stumbling about in Minho’s big mansion, all thanks to your pride preventing you from asking him the exact location of ‘your’ closet, you finally found the fashion wonderland you were looking for—your walk-in closet, that was somehow separated from Minho’s even though you two were supposedly holding hands in marriage. This degree of hated in an arranged marriage wasn’t uncommon, but you thought it hard to deal with when you’re stuck in the position.

Bursting through the door, the lights automatically turning on in here as well, you gave yourself no time to admire the inner structure of how the closet was built and decorated. Instead, you immediately went for the first mirror you could find, which was just hanging on the wall above a little table.

You heaved a short sigh when you recognized your own face and body in the mirror. That fact alone reinforced the drama theory you’ve got spinning in your head. If you were to not look like yourself, there would be a possibility that your soul got switched with someone else’s and you were actually still stuck in real life. However, the person you were looking at in the mirror was you in the flesh, therefore this was not a soul-switching experience but a teleportation experience.

You got stuck in a drama. Yeah, that was it. Either that, or you got transported to yourself in an alternative universe. To you, they meant the same thing. Anything that wasn’t your reality would be fake. That was your answer. But how did you get transported here? Flipping through the television department of your memory, not once could you remember yourself ever going through anything that happened to protagonists who were teleported somewhere else.

You weren’t almost hit by a car, you didn’t almost freeze to death, you didn’t almost drown in the ocean—oh there, wait a minute. There was a pattern there. The key to the sequence is not a near-death experience. The key to all of these is only the 'near’ of the experience, not necessarily the 'death’ part of it!

“But that makes no sense?” you mumbled to yourself as you tried your best to remember what you were doing before you woke up next to Minho, but it was to no avail. All you could remember was falling asleep on a phone call with your friend. “Everyone almost does something all the time. How do you determine which one is significant?”

Marching over to pick up a random pair of shoes from the shelf, you raised it high in mid-air and let go of it. Before it could hit the ground, you immediately caught the shoes again, then you looked around the place with the most paranoid eyes. “Oh, oops! I almost dropped these shoes!”

Nothing happened. The only thing that welcomed you were the static in the air and the realization of your stupidity.

Alright. Perhaps the ‘death’ part of it was, in fact, necessary after all.

Putting the shoes back, you puffed out some air to replace a frown that would inevitably help you gain more wrinkles than needed. Walking back to the table, you stared at yourself in the mirror and gave yourself a few pinches here and there. Both to make sure you were not dreaming and to give yourself some encouragement that things would turn out fine somehow.

One thing you did come to realize after the momentary idiotic trance you got stuck in was that while you were stuck in a drama (at least a universe that seemed to act on its principles), you were also taking the place of someone else’s life. Your position belonged to a character once. You just came in and took their place. You still looked like you, for some reason, but this position was not yours to freely maneuver.

Besides, whoever ‘you’ used to be must have been transported to your body in your world. Unfortunately, judging from the kind of life they’ve led thus far, you should pray against that case because your life wasn’t the kind of suffering they could handle. You didn’t think so. Working a full time job, not being married, and being dirt poor? Your life would suck for them. You may have to be ready to find a new job when you figure out how to go home. 

Nonetheless, you’ve got to be careful. You have no idea when you would magically disappear from this place, and you would hate to have someone pick up your pieces.

“Just live for now and don’t mess up,” you told yourself lazily, grimacing at the fact that you might have to comply with what Minho says from now on because, according to him, you were in love with him.

Now that the troubles were all set aside. It was finally time for you to bask in the big, extravagant closet of your dreams. You turned around and beamed at the clothes that lined up the walls and at the shoes all carefully placed in a row. This! This was much better than Minho’s closet, you knew that for certain!

Making your way to the other side of the room, you skipped with your bare feet happily. All that excitement only to have you trip on your own feet and fall forward. Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth hanging open to let out a small scream.

Your head banged against the wooden column that held up the clothing rack, and immediately you blacked out.

Opening your eyes was quite the scare for you.

Oh, how horrible it would be if you found yourself waking up next to a handsome man who happened to be your husband and also does not love you whatsoever but is extremely rich and is putting a roof over your head? You sniffed in distaste. You weren’t one for gold diggers. Money was never a big problem for you. You were poor, but you’ve got enough to get by. Loneliness and the lack of intimacy were the main issues! Not that you would outrightly acknowledge it, though.

The room you woke up in was different than the previous one. It was just as big as Minho’s bedroom but it had a more natural tone than Minho’s royal-like room. Holding your palm to your forehead, you winced in shock at the bumpy surface on your skin. You did remember tripping and falling head-on against the clothing rack but you did not think it would create that much damage. All you thought would happen was a small red spot and eternal suffering of you acknowledging how stupidly clumsy you were.

Aside from that, at least you gained a little information about yourself: you trip easy, you faint easy, and you scar easy. It was unlike your regular body; your threshold for pain and fatigue was high due to constant working, and you definitely did not use to trip on solid ground. Being teleported here has turned your body into a typical romantic drama protagonist. 

Your feet touched the cold tiles. Surprisingly, there were no fluffy slippers for your them to slip into. You got out of your bed and immediately went out to the hall in hopes to search for someone. There has got to be a soul working in this mansion. You could not have possibly smeared vaseline on your forehead and tucked yourself back into bed in a state of unconsciousness.

The atmosphere was eerie as you made your way down the hall. The sound of your bare feet tapping against the carpet could be heard in this quiet house and for once, you thought perhaps having such a giant home was not the best idea in the world. It has got you missing your small and cozy apartment where most things were within reach and sight. If only it didn’t take half of your pay check every month. 

“Oh, I see you’ve woken up!”

You flinched at the sudden voice, albeit it being very gentle and harmless. Turning around, you found a middle-aged lady dressed in casual clothes holding a basket of crumpled up laundry. Not wanting to act too suspicious and out of character, you gave her a small smile as you accessed her figure as quickly as you could.

She was not wearing one of those maid costumes, which was not surprising. You wouldn’t say you want to see an old lady in one either despite hoping to see an actual maid in a rich household just to experience that drama dream you’ve got stored in your head. But looking at the laundry basket she was holding, you were pretty sure she was only here to do the chores and she would leave once the day gets darker.

“Um… yeah, I have,” you replied to her as your hand reached out to softly touch the nasty bump on your forehead. You grimaced a little at the texture before you looked back at the lady, “Uh, is–is dinner ready?”

She nodded her head with a faint laugh, happy to know you haven’t lost your perception of time yet. Nudging her head to the end of the hallway, she said, “Mr.Lee went and bought home some takeout from your favorite restaurant after he got off work. They are in the kitchen if you are feeling hungry.”

You arched your brows pleasantly. Alright, that was very nice of him. Considering you weren’t holding any grudges against him yet, he did that our of sheer kindness, or responsibility—it didn’t matter. Free food is free food. You would thank him if you see him later but honestly, that would hugely depend on your mood and how he acts when you do see each other again, which you knew you would. 

“Okay. Thank you very much.” You nodded at her with gratitude, mirroring her hushed voice. “Ah, and thanks for fixing my head and tucking me to bed.”

“Of course, it is what I’m supposed to do.” She smiled. Your surprised look—from mistaking that she was the person who brought you back to bed—did not go unnoticed. Immediately, she added,“But Mr.Lee was the one who brought you back to your bed. That was not me.”

You blinked at her in bewilderment. The inside of your chest fluttered just a little at the idea of someone hoisting you up bridal-style and putting you back to bed. It didn’t cross your mind once that he might have laid you on his back instead. You were dramatizing the experience. You had to because Minho did not seem like the type to fit under the romantic category. His face? Definitely. His personality? No. 

Nonetheless, you were flustered at the idea of it. It was the first time someone has held you up like that since your father years and years ago.

“O–oh, that is–“ you cleared your throat and your mind, then you looked up at the lady with a smile–“um, is he home? I want to go thank him.”

“He is,” she nodded, “I believe he is just in his office room.”

Great. Location unlocked! All that remained would be how to get there.

“Thank you. I will just get going now.” You bowed slightly before you quickly spun on your heels and left the hallway.

After some more trials of opening doors that lead you to empty bathrooms and empty guest bedrooms, you were starting to hate this house more and more. At this point, you wouldn’t get a big home even if you’ve got all the money in the world. The hatred and annoyance have rooted too deep in your brain, you have automatically crossed your castle dreams off the bucket list.

Your feet tapped quickly against the carpet so your legs could take you down the hall and to the next doors quickly. Letting out a frustrated groan, you grabbed the door handle as soon as a new door was in reach and you twisted it open to reveal a rather embarrassing sight of Minho and a girl being all over him near the edge of his desk.

You couldn’t decipher whether this position was reciprocal. It was amazing that your brain could even function logically enough to think that perhaps Minho didn’t want to be stuck in this position considering how awkward the view was. You forgot for a moment you were looking at this from a spouse’s perspective, and panic surfaced when you dodged the girl’s annoyed eyes and instead looked straight into Minho’s shocked ones.

Your jaw dropped open slowly at the sight in front of you as if you were just looking at it for the first time. You were finally processing it, though. Then, for some stupid reason, you reached your hands up to your face and quickly smacked the heel of your palm to your eyes. Your back arched at the impact and you started wailing in (fake, but debatably genuine) pain. You disliked couples, also you thought it was funny to act out of the role you were destined to be: a wailing woman. 

The real dilemma here was if you wanted to confront them or act as if you haven’t seen anything. 

Unfortunately, confronting them may lose your status as Minho’s spouse, thus the roof over your head and the trust funds. It would be immensely entertaining to confront them, but you needed to keep everything else in mind. For now, pretending you didn’t see anything was the best response.

Minho and the girl were startled out their minds at your peculiar response. Minho’s instincts told him to stand up straight and approach you to check and see if the fall this morning was more serious than he assumed it to be. But before he could listen to his heart, your incoherent wailing started to turn into audible words.

“Oh! My eyes! I can’t feel my eyes! I can’t see!” You let your hands go free around the air and kept your eyes shut tightly to act blind. Your spun your torso about, almost dancing to a rhythm of a trot song, and your arms flailed closely beside your figure to avoid hitting the door frame. “I have not seen a thing! I’ve gone blind!” 

His lips quirked up in amusement, but the amusement was quickly diminished when the girl who just recently tried to lure him into a deceptive make-out session spoke.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked out loud, possibly glaring at you but you could not see (because your eyes were closed, not because you’ve actually gone blind. You’ve got me fooled!), nor do you care.

However, you did almost let a gasp past your lips because good lord, the audacity of this woman! Did she see no problem in seducing a married man? An unhappily married man but a married, ring on the finger, contract signed, vowed spoken man nonetheless! Does ‘through sickness and health’ mean nothing to people anymore?

As much as you didn’t care for Minho, the concept of adultery is and will always be preposterous! You were thinking in big words just so you could emphasis how much you hate the act of cheating!

“It seems like somebody is being unfaithful and I am trying to make sure I don’t make a memory of it,” you replied calmly with your eyes still shut and your body turned at the wrong person. It was hard to take you seriously. When there was only silence, you muttered to yourself, “God, I hope amnesia happens when I leave this world. This is not a good sight to remember for them.”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows at you after your answer. Surely, you wouldn’t accuse him of cheating? You barged in at the wrong time. You didn’t even try to understand the situation from his perspective. His arms were crossed in front of his chest to create a more dominant stance before he commanded, “[Name], open your eyes.”

“Did you not hear what I said–ah, you probably didn’t because I muttered.” You sniffed the tense air before you shook your head. “No. I am trying not to make a memory of this.”

“[Name], I said open your eyes,” Minho repeated louder once again. He marched over to you and, impulsively, gripped a stronghold of your chin to tilt your head up. “I said look at me!”

You snapped your eyes open at the forceful tug, a strangled noise bursting from your throat at his violent action. You weren’t scared, no, not at all. You were angry, annoyed, and actively seeking retaliation you would’t have engaged in back where you came from. 

Your hand reached out to grip his wrist and you squeezed tightly until Minho showed a sign of discomfort on his face. A smile almost crept their way to your face; all those years carrying bags of groceries with your mom while walking home was worth it! But the matter at hand called for a more serious demeanour. This experience concerned not just yourself but whoever was once in your place. The aftermath of your choices would change their life, and your call was to stand up for them.

Your brows furrowed and your eyes flashed with cruel disbelief as you glared at him. Shoving his hand away from you, you croaked out, “How dare you treat them like this?”

Minho looked confused. Them? What did you mean? Who were you referring to? Before he could open his mouth to ask, you took a step back and glared pointedly at him. There were droplets in your eyes that you were unable to hide completely. Nobody has ever treated you this roughly before, but you weren’t upset. Those were frustrated waters. The more visible part of your hooded eyes wore a deep-seated contempt that Minho has never seen from you before.

You felt like a completely different person to him.

“I can’t believe they love you,” you sneered. “How could anyone ever love you like this?” 

Like a bullet, your words pierced through him, hitting bull's eye on his board of insecurities. He was rendered speechless at your words. All he could do was cast his gaze down at the floor and think about them. You, taking the silence as an opportunity, glanced back at the girl who stood quietly behind Minho. She didn’t quite return your gaze, possibly shocked to hear such harsh and defensive words coming out of your mouth. Not once did you consider how she was feeling. She was practically invisible until her appeared in your sight. 

You rolled your eyes before you turned and left the room. All thoughts to thank him earlier vanishing in thin air, and it would take quite the journey before they come back to you.

You stomped to the living room and into the kitchen. The subtle change from the carpet floor to the marble tiles was magnified under the pressure of your feet. The cold didn’t even bother you that much, your mind was too occupied with the previous event involving Minho.

As soon as you walked into the open kitchen, you found a milk-colored paper bag sitting on the edge of the countertop with a name printed in the middle in a pretty, cursive font. Your eyes softened for a moment when you acknowledged that the bag contained the food Minho went and got for you, but the softness lasted only a millisecond as your mind repeatedly recalled the incident seconds ago.

Anger filled your eyes like an ocean. Who was he to do that? If he had let you go like a normal person and not pull that violent stunt on you, you would have never been this riled up. You didn’t care that he was cheating; it wasn’t like he was cheating on you per se. You cared that he thought it was okay to grab you (or ‘you’)!

Turning away from the takeout bag, you approached the refrigerator and opened it to search for some eggs and meat so you could cook a meal like you used to do when you finally run out of instant noodle packs to boil. After taking out the necessary ingredients, you searched through the cabinets to find a pan to use but it was to no avail. Everything was either bowls and plates or more salt and sugar.

A frustrated huff escaped your lips, your cheeks puffing out and you gritted your teeth before you slammed the cabinet door shut. You stood up from the ground with a curse under your lips and your hands on your hips. With light sweat on your forehead and your unsightly floral pajama set, [Name], you do look like someone’s grandparent at the moment.

Footsteps made you avert your attention from the hiding pan to where the sound came from. Stumbling into your sight was the girl you just saw, with Minho following shortly behind her. You met eyes with him first, and despite wanting to peel your eyes away from him, you held onto his gaze challengingly to make a point. Minho felt his hands tremble as his mind suffered a faint disassociation.

He was right. You were not the person he knew anymore.

Turning around to look at the eggs and frozen meat you set on the kitchen counter, you stared at it as if contemplating your next move, then you turned back to the two with a shrug. Your tone was beyond slurred and impolite. “Where is the pan?”

“What do you need it for?” Minho asked.

“To knock you out,” you deadpanned, then you visibly scoffed with an eye-roll. “For cooking. Have you never seen people use one before?”

“I bought the food already.”

“I know.” You made a beckoning gesture with your hand. “Tell me where the pan is.”

“You don’t even know how to cook,” the girl interjected, her brows furrowing slightly at your vindictive tone as she assumed your poor attitude here was to compensate for what you just saw of her and Minho.

“Are we friends? I don’t know you,” you said factually.

She laughed in disbelief. “You do know me. I’m Yuna.” 

“Nice to meet you, Yuna, but I’m afraid I won't try to remember,” you said, eyes scratching fire on her skin. She looked taken back by your gaze, which may be the reason why she didn’t retaliate. Glaring back at Minho, you waited for him to answer your question about the location of a cooking pan. You didn’t know if he simply refused to tell you anything or if he didn’t know either, but you snapped either way as your patience reached its limit.

Widening your eyes at him in disbelief, you exclaimed, “Oh my god, Minho! Just tell me where the fucking pan is so I can make myself dinner!”

Now it was Minho who looked startled. You narrowed your eyes at him then, trying to piece together exactly who you used to be before this soul-switching event happened. Judging from how shocked both him and Yuna were, you must have been one mellow and kind person. It was not to say you didn’t possess those traits either. You definitely did, but Minho has done nothing to deserve your goodness, and you would not be the bigger person and give it to him.

“I asked a simple question.” You rolled your eyes and waved your hands in front o your chest in a dismissive manner as you moved from your spot to head out of the kitchen. “I’ll ask someone else.”

Minho watched as you stomped out of the kitchen. When you brushed past him, he wanted to reach his hand out to stop you from leaving. For what reason? He could not conclude. He wanted to answer your question, which was that he could only guess where all the cooking utensils were because he’s not once tried to make dinner. He wanted to ask you to clarify a few things, starting from what happened to you. He wanted to urge you to calm down. Mostly, he wanted to apologize for what he did to you.

But his muscles were rigid and his heart hollowed when he turned to your leaving figure. Your words echoed in his head over and over again. How could anyone ever love you like this? How could anyone ever love you like this, Minho? How?

The sound of a door slamming could be heard all the way from where he stood. Minho licked his lower lip slowly in realization, a realization that relied on a mere assumption. It could explain your sudden change of attitude, at least. The thought jolted his mind awake and he turned around, preparing to leave the kitchen and go after you for answers.

Have you stopped loving him? Or, judging by those words, have you ever loved him?

“Hey, where’re you going?” Yuna asked when he noticed his urgency.

“I’m going to talk to them,” he replied.

“But they’re mad at you–“

“I know.”

“So don’t go. They wouldn’t want to talk to you anyway,” she said with a half-smile. 

“I can’t, Yuna. I need to talk to them about something important.” Minho carefully moved his hand out of her grasp. “Something is off about them, I can feel it..”

“You can wait a while, Minho.” She tugged onto his arm again. “You should let them cool off. How about we sit down and eat?”

Minho paused to consider the suggestion. You were angry. He could tell by the stomping and the glaring and the cursing. Since he has never seen you like this, there was no guessing to what intensity your anger could rise. You might start throwing sharp objects at him for all he knew. But somehow, that only made him want to ‘resolve’ the situation even more. It felt as if there was a clock hanging above your head, counting down each second of him stalling and not talking about what happened, and when the clock ticks zero it would be too late for him.

(It should have been too late for him ages ago, but ‘you’ had been patient, far too patient with him.)

“I can’t. I have to go talk to them now,” he replied and once again moved his arm away. This time, he quickly took a few steps away so he could be out of reach. He gave Yuna a short smile. “Go home, okay? Text me when you get back safely.”

Yuna watched with slumped shoulders as Minho quickly made his way up the stairs and disappeared into the hallway. Her lips pursed, confused and disappointed.

She has liked Minho for as long as she could remember now. As horrible as the arranged marriage was to her, Minho has never expressed a fondness for you and that he has never shown any form of attachment towards this arrangement. If anything, he has been nothing but spoiled and distant when it came to you. It was only because of that. That was the only reason why she reacted well with the marriage and that her love-struck mind deemed it moral to try and steal Minho away from you.

But why? Why was Minho so caught up now? 

Yuna ran a hand through her long, silky hair. She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes settling on the takeout dinner. She gulped nervously. Before she left the house, she grabbed the food with her.

You were too caught up in your thoughts to hear the doors to the closet opening. Your head was lowered to stare at the ground visible between your crossed legs. One of your hand was at the mercy of your nail-biting habit while the other one was clenched into a tight fist and resting on top of your ankle. You were hunched in the middle of your enormous closet, mumbling out your thoughts.

Your initial goal was to live this life of yours as invisibly as you could. You were not going to destroy this person’s life. You were not going to destroy their relationships and definitely not their marriage. For as long as you would be here, you would try to go along pretending like you were somebody else. When you finally leave this place, you would hand this life back to the original ‘you’ as if they never left!

Your goal was facing a bit of an intrusion—Lee Minho.

Without any attachment and responsibilities, it was easy to stand up to him. Doing it for the sake of a weaker person was even easier to do. Who was he to be so rough with his spouse? What was his problem? Not to mention that incident was not the only bad example you could raise, there were so many more things about him that were unlikely and unfathomable! You were considering whether you want to help ‘you’ do the deed and cut all ties with Minho.

He was not good for you, and the original you were probably too in love to see that. That must be why they stayed, considering there was a lack of evidence for any hostage or abusive scenarios. Therefore, you would be more than happy to help them get out of this situation, even though it might hurt them in the short run. To be extra cautious, you could write a explanation letter and conduct a plan for their temporary financial coverage if confirmed that Minho was their only source of security. 

You could do this. You could save a life! Hurray [Name], you’re finally doing something useful!

“What are you mumbling about?” Minho asked as he knelt on one knee in front of your hunched figure.

You snapped your head up and immediately, your thoughtful eyes turned into a glare. You rasped out a yell, “None of your business!”

His expression did not waver, so you scoffed. “What the hell are you doing here? You can’t be checking up on me.”

“Why can’t I be?” Minho tilted his head to the side.

“Because you are an asshole.” Yu rolled your eyes, finally having the sense to scoot away from him. You sat up straight, still glaring at him but the tension in your muscles has slightly relaxed upon seeing his soft, but still stoic, gaze. “Seriously, what do you want?”

“I’m checking up on you,” he replied. “What are you doing in the closet out of all places?”

“I love this closet. You wouldn’t know.” You shrugged and turned to the side, facing the light around the mirror on your table. “It is quiet. It helps me think.”

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asked, his eyes never leaving you as if he was trying to catch every detail of your movements.

You didn’t answer for a short minute, your eyes boring holes into the wooden desk. When you finally did, you have already made the difficult decision in your head, and you were completely ready to execute it.

“I am deciding if I have ever loved you. It seems like I haven’t,” you told him with a neutral expression as if you were spilling nothing but information that contained no emotional destruction within them. “Or maybe I did, but I certainly don’t now.”

Minho’s mind blanked out. There was his answer. The only thing that was circulating his head were your words, and he didn’t understand why they hurt him so much. He, too, knew he had been distant and cruel to you for most of the marriage. There was no reason for him or anybody else to believe he would ever be sad if the marriage breaks up somehow. But he was hurting. Hearing you confess your lack of endearment stung him like a needle to the skin.

Immediately putting on a facade, Minho raised an eyebrow and he leaned away a little. “Really? Well, what do you suggest we do then?”

You blinked at his cooperative response. This was going too well for your liking, but perhaps your fate had decided to finally be nice to you for once. Shrugging at him, you said, “What else can we do? Let’s talk divorce.”

His heart jumped at the word but his face controlled all that he could express. The jump was not hectic enough for him to burst out of his usual character yet. Heaving out a heavy sigh, Minho smirked with a laugh. “Yeah, right. Why would the people who forced us together agree to separate us?”

It was your turn to laugh now. Everything was going as planned. You should be suspicious of that, but you’d rather relish in the present. “Oh, Minho,” you mused. “There isn’t much you know about arranged marriages, do you?”

He furrowed his brows at you in confusion, and for once you finally let your guard down. Standing up, you urged him to do the same as you walked over to the door. “Come on. I’ll cook us some food and we’ll talk about it together.”

“Like I said, I already got food.” Minho rolled his eyes as he stood up and followed suit behind you, his heart still beating fast.

You glanced down at your slippers and hummed. Now that he’s somewhat agreed to separation, you decided you no longer have to hold a grudge against him. Having some good, expensive food and talking about the shining end to your marriage sounded like a very great end to this problem. Turning to look behind your shoulder, you nodded at him. “Alright, let’s see what you got.”

If all goes as you assumed, you were almost one hundred percent sure his mother hates your guts. Unfortunately, the way to a perfect divorce in these dramatic circumstances was always through the male protagonists’ snobby and obnoxious mother, but you’ve got that covered! You’ve consumed so much media, these archetypes of people were predictable to you. 

You waited anxiously at the extravagant coffee house. It was a place for flower teas in floral China cups and overpriced cupcakes stacked in the shape of a fountain. You felt heavily out of place even with the expensive clothes you were wearing, and oh boy, were you anxious about being seen in public when your insides were scrambled with feelings of not belonging. Nobody could read your thoughts, but what if they could?

The conversation you had with Minho last night was a never-ending cycle of you trying to explain divorce to him and him shooting down all the possibilities you pull out of your pocket. He was defending this marriage like he wanted to keep it, and strangely, you would not be surprised that he did. After all, Minho could very well be that male character who was just stoic on the outside but was actually very sensitive on the inside.

However, that was none of your businesses. Who Minho was on the inside didn’t matter to you whatsoever. It poses no value if all he ever does is hide that part of him and mask himself with a terrible facade. An asshole with a secretly good heart is just an asshole. You have made the goal to divorce him, and there was that.

"Oh! There you are!”

An auntie-like voice jolted you out of your nervous state of mind, and you moved your eyes to find an old lady pulling out the chair before you and sitting down. She wore minimal makeup on her face, just enough to make her wrinkly skin shine over her old age. Her clothes were tacky and have an expensive air to them, which was typical of most expensive clothes. You supposed you were in no place to judge. 

“I am so sorry for being late!” she said. “I hope you haven’t been here for too long.”

“No, I got here five minutes ago.” You shrugged dismissively, your eyes too focused on watching her movement.

She who sat before you was none other than Minho’s mother, or so you thought who would be the bitch of the century. But everything she showed was against your normal drama characterizations—no tense shoulders, no frown, no condescending gaze, and no slow talking with an old woman nasal tone.

Instead, her eyes were warm as they glanced at you as if you were a long lost child of hers. She was more polite than ever as she explained why she was late for this supposed divorce conference you planned. This was completely unexpected. You weren’t sure how to react now that the possibility of not being able to bring up a divorce has risen.

“Do you know what you want to order?”

You blinked a few times at her and glanced down at the menu. You haven’t gotten the time to look at it, but it felt like you would lose your appetite as soon as you look at the prices printed on the menu. Picking up the menu, you gave her a faint smile and opened the booklet with a thick velvet cover. You laughed a little at yourself. There were no prices labeled. Of course. Rich people need not know how much things cost. Those irresponsible midgets only pay.

“I will get the green tea cake. It is my favorite,” she mentioned, finally setting down the menu.

“Oh, really? Then I guess I should try that out too,” you quickly followed, not really bothering to decide what you feel like consuming as you were already too busy thinking of what to do with your plan.

“Okay great! Let me call the waiter over!”

You smiled at her blindly, still not paying any attention to your surroundings. Oh, you have caught yourself on another stump, [Name]. While still wanting a divorce—oh god, this word would not be leaving your mind anytime sooner—you were starting to think perhaps Minho’s sweet mother would not be the easiest way to signing the papers. She doesn’t seem to hate you at all, which only served as a disadvantage to you in this situation.

You hummed. There was that. But just because she really liked you wouldn’t mean you couldn’t talk to her about wanting to end a marriage with her son. Perhaps a more civilized conversation could be held where you two talk the arranged marriage over like actual adults, and she would most likely only convince you to rethink your decision more carefully without knowing you already did.

It was not the path you were hoping to cross but it would still be a path with the desired result at the end, so you supposed there was no harm in being honest about what you want.

“What is it that you want to talk to me about?”

Alas, a lot of things are easier said than done. I am pretty sure you knew that fairly well with your many years of experience on Earth.

“I… uh…” You clenched your fists and squinted your eyes uncomfortably. The way you kept reminding yourself to be honest did nothing to your feelings.

Minho’s mother tilted her head to the side as her forehead creased with confusion. It was an expression she has never seen you have before, an expression that looked as if you were holding something back because you have something bad to say. To her knowledge, you never needed to say anything bad enough that it punches your moral consciousness in the gut. Not to her, at least. Not even when it was about her son.

“Is it about Minho–“

“I want a divorce.”

The second your voice dropped, so did her expression. You couldn’t look at her, and the striking remorse was baffling you. None of this was your fault, nor have you spend enough time to develop a bond with Minho’s mother, so why should you feel bad about telling her you wanted to leave her son? These people were all strangers! Was this the power of innate empathy people kept yapping about needing to possess?

A look of realization was apparent in her overall troubled expression. Her eyes sparking a hint of light as it dawned on her that Minho has finally done something that reached and crossed the breaking point for you, and it has tempted you to properly ask for a divorce. After the sudden startlement came a wave of tranquility, as if she already knew this would happen sooner or later.

“We can’t do that.” That was all she told you.

“Minho already told me about everything when we discussed this yesterday,” you pressed on carefully. “Legally, I can.”

She gave you a faint look of surprise, possibly from hearing that you and Minho had already talked this over. Then she sighed with a shook of her head. "If you two do get a divorce, there would be no reason for my husband to continue sponsoring your father’s company and keep it going. Your father’s legacy will fall.”

You held back a witty remark at the fact that she was talking as if your father was some prophet who died saving the world and you were supposed to be in line for his succession. Both your father and her husband were both just the CEO of some really big company, you assumed. You didn’t even know what company it was! Cosmetic? Convenience store? Toilet seats? You’d say let it crumble, but for the sake of who would inhabit your being when you return to your world, you denied that approach.

“Why do I have to marry your son for your husband to sponsor my father’s company?” you asked instead. “Sponsorship doesn’t require marriage. It only requires money.”

“Money requires relations,” she said. “He has no reason to help your father when your family was facing bankruptcy until you and Minho got married.”

You pursed your lips together. “There is no relationship going on between me and Minho.”

“And nobody has to know that,” she said, looking at you pointedly. For the first time, the soft aura she exuded was replaced with something formal, more businesslike. “Nobody knows that your marriage is an unhappy one except for me, [Name]. You were the one who caved in and told me.”

Minho had the sense to at least pretend as if he liked you in public. That was rather unexpected even though ‘acting as if everything is okay in front of people’ has always been the first rule to these arranged marriages. And the former you, too, knew enough to not show Minho that they were both uncomfortable and unappreciated when they were with him. 

Your hand flew up to your chin, and your fingertips lingered against the aftertouch of Minho’s grip. Your memories had conveniently left out the part where you dug your nails into his skin until it hurt and you never tried to see if his wrist was okay.

“I know Minho can be a little insufferable sometimes, but I hope that you can remember how much you love him whenever those times come,” she leaned forward to speak, her tone much more sympathetic now. “Of course, I am not telling you to never get mad at him. I just hope that you can love him, always, even when you hate him.”

You blinked nervously at her. That was profoundly cheesy and unrealistic. It wasn’t impossible, though. You were sure the former you had mastered the art of hating and loving Minho as a husband. But you weren’t them, and while you didn’t outrightly refuse to fall in love with Minho, he has done absolutely nothing to gain your good interest. The condescending gazes, the potential cheating, the dull voice, the rules, and bad temper—you just couldn’t like him at the moment. And if he doesn’t come back around and change his attitude, you were afraid the impression would become too hard to budge.

“And if that has become too hard for you to deal with, at least do it for your parents’ sake.”

Oh, she pulled the ‘dead parents’ card on you, [Name]! Destroying a person’s love life, even though it was a terrible love life, was a kind of guilt you believed you would get over eventually. But their parents were a whole different story. Family relationship was always a pickle. You’d hate to open the cabinet and steal the bones of those dusty skeletons with you. You wouldn’t suffer real consequences, only those your conscience imposes upon you. 

You scrunched your nose up in dismay, feeling stubborn and wanting to act on it so badly, but the situation was starting to feel more and more hopeless as it went on. Biting your lower lip, you asked with a soft voice, not wanting to startle any unwanted suspicion. “Do I… do I even love him at all?”

The look she gave you was patient as if she understood your mixed feelings. She nodded her head. “You have always told me you do. Unless you are lying to me, I don’t see how you don’t love my son.”

You grimaced. No duh? She would think the former you was in love with her son unless it was found to be a lie. That sentence didn’t need to be said. Nevertheless, you glanced down at your hands and clenched them together. You felt like yourself, you looked like yourself, and you sounded like yourself. However, no matter from which part you look at, this wasn’t your life. This ‘rich husband and a bad arranged marriage’ life wasn’t yours. The ‘working overtime and dunking down ramen soup’ life was yours and where you were only qualified enough to live.

If divorcing Minho would come with a package that held more than just leaving a toxic relationship, you would rather not do it. Suffering all the other consequences wasn’t your choice to make. 

Seeing the amount of stress that engulfed your body when you finally finished with lunch, your driver took the liberty to drive you all the way to a shopping mall so you could enjoy yourself and cool off some steam. It was a very heartwarming gesture, and you didn’t forget to thank him before you left the car and waited for him to drive away.

The shopping mall was regular. It was the kind of mall you would come across if you joined a tour group to travel to another country. You also liked to call it the shopping mall where you only walk in and never buy anything because every store inside was either too expensive or not of your taste. Most likely both. Despite having more than a sufficient amount of money on your hands at the moment, you just could not shake off the lack of interest for any of these high-end brands.

Puffing air into your cheeks, you chewed on the boba you just bought from a store located at a rather invisible corner. It was the only item you were willing to spend money on, and thank god the store did not try to amp up the prices as Disneyland would with a bottle of tasteless water just because it was located somewhere lavish.

Your mind has wandered off once again, as it has been doing recently. With these events happening all at once, and with your drama-obsessed brain’s absolute calculation, there was one very important thing missing from your life right now: the best friend.

It could be a man or a woman. Depending on the gender, their personalities would vary greatly in the most predictable and distasteful way ever. The man would be great; handsome, caring, smart, and unfortunately a doormat for everyone to step over. The woman, which you had a suspicion may be a role filled by Yuna already, would be terrible; beautiful but jealous and shallow. From what you’ve experienced, your best friend would mostly likely be a man. Possibly extremely in love with you but somehow never got picked, and now his opportunity has vanished due to an arranged marriage.

“Yeah–where is my super hot best friend?” You stopped in the middle of the mall, eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction and lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. You were dying to meet him, whoever he may be, all just to get a sense of relief that you’ve got somebody to lean on at a time like this.

(You wouldn’t fool me, though. I know you want to satisfy your second-lead syndrome.) 

Continuing to walk, your hearing slowly came back to reality and your ears began to pick up noises outside of those in your brain. A very familiar voice rang around your area and you paused once again to hear it more clearly.

“Come on, wouldn’t I look nice in this? Let’s go in, Minho!”

Your eyes rounded at the name and you pursed your lips together. How uncanny. You have never experienced such outrageous coincidence before. Out of all the shopping malls in this country, your husband has to be this particular one and at this particular spot. You squinted your eyes then, your straw sucking up nothing because it was pulled half-way into the air where there were no liquid. A continuous hallowing noise came through the suction, but you didn’t care. This was adding up to the scene of a misunderstanding. 

What should you do, you wondered. Make a scene? Complain? Cry about your cheating husband even though he probably wasn’t cheating? If only you were at a fancy restaurant! You’ve always wanted to throw a glass of wine at someone’s face!

“Walk away, [Name],” you muttered to yourself, even after all those excited thoughts, and you fastened your pace.

“Oh–hey! Hey, [Name], is that you?”

You almost choked on the boba in your mouth. Pressing your lips together, you snapped your head up with the most menacing glare you could muster to flash it at the new intruder, and immediately you came face to face with a man with the cutest grin you have ever seen. A strangled noise blew from your throat and came out of your pursed lips, almost out of your nostrils. It was an ugly sound but you could not care less as you beamed inwardly at the sight of the man approaching you. Chubby cheeks, nice smile, not very tall but muscular!

“Oh my god,” you whispered under your breath, “it’s you.”

“Yes, is it I,” he laughed at you. “Why? Did you miss me?”

“Definitely, you have no idea.” You nodded, still chewing on your boba.

He looked surprised for a moment as he tilted his head and that bright smile dimmed. His eyes turned into those of observant ones as he started to look you up and down, then he reached out to pinch your cheek gently while he hummed.

“[Name]…” he started slowly. “You look different. Did you do something–”

“Hands off, Seo Changbin.”

Hands off—what, oh my lord. You widened your eyes at the three simple yet demanding words, and you found your stupid heart leaping at them. Pursing your lips, you lowered your head to hide a smile. God, [Name], how low are your standards? How did that manage to get your heart racing?

Minho didn’t attempt to swat Changbin’s hand away from you, the latter did it on impulse upon seeing the unamused expression on Minho’s face. Raising an eyebrow, Changbin showed nothing more than a sarcastic smile as he leaned back on his weight and stared Minho down lazily from behind you.

“Minho, how wonderful to see you here,” Changbin greeted. His eyes darted to the side to find Yuna walking up to join the gathering, and his forehead creased with light anger for a second.

Shifting his gaze to you, he was surprised to find you sipping on your drink casually as your eyes darted between Yuna and Minho, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He raised an eyebrow at you and stood up straighter, completely confused by the lack of pain flickering in your eyes.

“Hey, Minho,” you greeted. “Hello to you too, Yuna.”

They looked as if they just got called out but despite the faintly rooted embarrassment, the two of them returned the greeting politely. The tension was high and thick, you couldn’t break it with just anything. Not even with a wave of Yuna’s perfectly manicured and sharp nails, which if you’ve had tried, they’re almost impossible to chip on purpose. 

“Well, if there is nothing important, I will be leaving.” You shrugged, not quite looking at Minho in the eyes. You couldn’t. Not after having lunch with his mother and after everything she has told you about him. Turning around, you smiled at Changbin. “I am hungry. Can we find somewhere to sit down and eat? Preferably a place with normal, human portion food.”

Changbin cleared his throat. Your remarks were weird. He discreetly threw a glance at Minho, not so much asking for permission but to access the sudden change of dynamic between you two. The man looked even more off-putting than you did, like he was confused and failing to pretend he understood the situation. It was hilarious. Changbin smirked to himself and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You gave him a soft smile of gratitude, happy that he agreed with no trouble. You didn’t suspect he would anyway; he was supposed to be a pushover. When you turned to Minho again, he looked as stoic as he has always been. You shivered at his expression and gave him a grimace. “Stop frowning, Minho. Your face will get stuck like that.”

Changbin stifled a laugh while Yuna widened her eyes in displeasure. She opened her mouth to speak, but she found it hard to shoot down the truth. Minho does keep his expression on constant angry mode and, while she wouldn’t bluntly say it the way you just did, she also would not mind seeing Minho crack a smile now and then.

“How do you expect me to smile when my spouse is out with someone else?”

“Rethink your sentence.” You glanced between him and Yuna.

Minho noticed and  heaved a sigh as he closed his eyes. He explained, “I didn’t plan to come out with her. She dragged me out here.”

You felt bad, and with your world’s state of capitalism and experiences of borderline free labor, feeling bad for someone that wasn’t yourself could be considered a golden empathetic response. Pursing your lips and sucking in a big, unwilling breath, you settled into a leg shaking motion to replace stomping in public like a child. You stopped after a brief moment once you realized you were too occupied with getting to know Changbin to care.

“Well,” you said, gesturing towards the heartbroken girl and already turning away. “There is no harm in letting her drag you around for another hour. You’re gonna have fun! I’ll see you at some point!”

Waving those two a generous goodbye, you quickly beckoned for Changbin to follow you before Minho could get the chance to say something your pettiness has to respond to. After walking for a little, Changbin finally breathed out a puff of air as he placed his hand on his chest to release the awkward tension.

“That was weird,” he said. “But hey, you handled that well! I am really surprised… and confused, I guess?”

“Of course I handled that well. Who do you think I am?” You rolled your eyes.

He laughed. “I guess there isn’t anything for you to worry about. You two are happily married after all.”

You blinked at his response, confused for only a short moment before you quietly exhaled an 'oh.’ Minho’s mother was telling the truth, 'you’ really did not tell anyone else aside from her about how unhappy this marriage has been for you and Minho. Not even the best friend knew.

You looked at the ground. Damn, you were hoping you could ignite some feverish fire between you two. Changbin seemed like someone who you could have amazing chemistry with, as best friends and perhaps, as lovers. However, judging by the way he acted around Minho and how he didn’t seem to mind your marriage at all, you doubted his affection for you was any more than just very close friends. The best friend zone—a delicate place, with steel walls and whatnot. 

“Yeah, I really wouldn’t worry.” You smiled.

“Besides, if anything is to happen to Minho and Yuna then it would have ages ago.” Changbin shrugged. “Nothing ever did.”

You grimaced at his remark. Oh god, Yuna. You poor girl.

Minho looked up at the clock. He could feel his anxiousness increase as the clock ticked away the morning after midnight. Checking his phone again, it took him another glance at his zero missed calls and zero new texts to remember you had left your phone at home before you went outside this afternoon.

Changbin still has not read the single, semi-threatening text Minho sent before ten o'clock asking about your whereabouts and demanding him to send you home immediately. He did figure that a reply would be too generous of an act from Changbin. For one, Changbin hated Minho. For two, you were forcibly married to Minho, which only made the hatred go even deeper into the ground. At this point, Minho was one broken secret away from being torn to shreds by your best friend. 

He bit his lower lip as his eyes trailed over to the clock once again.

Where were you? You have never been home this late before. Not to mention your actions today at the shopping mall! It was nothing like what Minho thought you were capable of! You had never once ditched him to hang out with Changbin. He practically doesn’t exist whenever you so much as feel Minho’s presence, not because you were scared of him but because you genuinely did love him.

You did love him, did you not? He was sure you did. 

In the midst of his thoughts, the front door to the house conveniently swung open. You stepped into the living room and immediately, the old lady who you saw the other morning rushed up to you with a worried look on her face.

“Where have you been!” She lightly hit your arm as she scolded.

You gave her a faint laugh. Her harmless scolding was endearing to you. You hadn’t known you shared such an affectionate dynamic but you weren’t surprised, nor were you opposed to it.

“Changbin took me to a lot of places,” you replied. “Today was fun!”

“Oh, dear lord–and you left your phone at home too!” she said. “You got Minho worried sick–you got me worried sick! I was gonna go home but I wanted to make sure you will come back safely.”

To be frank, you had beeped her out for the most part of her words. Mildly focusing on cooing at her about how Changbin had taken very good care of you this whole day, and her looking as if you were chanting some forbidden spell because you were talking about another man, your mind lingered on the piece of information she gave you: you got Minho worried sick. 

Call it your calculative and distrusting nature, but you were having a hard time believing he did it out of care. He thought you unfaithful likely just as much as you thought him. You were okay with the feelings being mutual for now. 

“I’m sorry for coming back so late. I will make sure to bring my phone next time.”

“You make sure to come back home early next time!” she exclaimed. “Don’t forget your phone again!”

“Okay, I promise.” You nodded, pursing your lips into a grin.

She waved at your expression that mirrored that of an ignorant child. You were listening, you just weren’t really taking her seriously, in the most respectful and playful way possible.

“You kids,” she sighed and placed her wrinkly hand on your arm. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

Your chest warmed and you instantly knew why. You missed your mom. She would probably pamper you like this too if you ever came home this late, and probably with a much longer and serious lecture. You wouldn’t know, though. You lived far and you were always working now that you have grown up. Once you were able to return to your world, you figured giving your parents a visit wouldn’t be a bad idea. 

“I did. I ate dinner,” you said. “I am really full.”

“Are you sure? I can cut you some apples if you want. There are fruits in the kitchen! Or maybe you want some oranges?”

“No, that’s okay.” You smiled at her gratefully. “I am full. I ate so much today.”

“Okay,” she said, albeit she appeared suspicious. “If there is nothing else then I am going to go home.”

“Now? It’s really late. Why don’t you stay here?” you suggested, turning around to look out the window by the door before turning back to her.

“No worries. The driver was waiting for you to come home too so I can ask for a free ride,” she laughed as she moved over to the front door. Before she left, she turned around to face you slightly, and she nagged, “Go tell Minho you’re back!”

You only gave her a forced smile in response. As soon as those doors closed, a sarcastic and exaggerated grimace appeared on your face. You turned around, walking into the house as you mumbled mean nothings under your breath about not believing that Minho was actually worried about your whereabouts. He’s definitely got better things to do, and it wasn’t as if he cared. Why should he worry? This has to be a dignity issue. 

Despite not wanting to talk to him, you found yourself walking to his office anyway. Clearing your mind and your throat, you pursed your lips together in dismay before you knocked on the door. Your eyes widened when it immediately swung open, the lack of waiting you needed to do startling you. Minho’s furrowed brows relaxed for a brief second at the acknowledgment that you were fine and back under the roof, but as usual, he returned to his annoyed state before you could catch the concern appearing in his eyes.

He thought twice about reaching over to grab your arm so he could pull you into the room; the emotional fragment in his chest still aching, even though it wasn’t his place to hurt over something he did to you. Hesitantly taking a step back, he opened the door wider and cleared his throat to put emphasis on his current, very annoyed mood. “We need to talk.”

That is never good. The words itself were fine, but the gloomy tone was never good. Despite never hearing that from anybody other than your parents, your muscles clenched at the simple idea of what that line contained, especially now that you were supposedly married. Taking a tentative step forward, you spared Minho a glance before you walked into the office and paused right in the middle of the room.

You grimaced at the memory of when you were here last time. It was not a good sight to see, not that you had many complaints about whatever really went down back then because you still, until this moment, have zero care of Minho’s love life outside of this failing marriage. The grimace on your face expanded when the door slammed shut. You turned around and eyed Minho with a surprised look.

He glared back at you, obviously angry, and you seemed to have an idea as to why that was. He walked near you, but not close enough to create too much intimidation, and he crossed his arms. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I’ve been out,” you said, calmly in hopes that it would rub off on him. “To malls and the streets. Nowhere too far away from here.”

“You were out for really long. Do you know what time it is?” He asked. “It’s way past midnight!”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that, really,” you said. “I wasn’t actively checking the time and, well, one thing led to another and by the time we finished chatting, it’s past twelve!”

Minho gulped down the competitiveness that arose when he heard that you have been out with Changbin for the entire day, having fun and chatting like a pair of best friends, which he often forget you were. It should be normal but Minho could not help the tinted jealousy that continued to pour out of his lips in the form of regrettable words. Not to mention, his feelings were magnified after the conversation you both had about a divorce.  

He has really gotten too used to receiving your undivided love and attention that, upon the vaguest chance of anybody stealing the throne away, he growls and attacks to make sure he keeps it to himself. Rolling his eyes, he scoffed out a laugh, the corner of his lips quirked up into an unamused smirk. His arms fell from his chest and landed on his side where they found a place to rest on his hips.

“Oh, right, I forgot you were having fun with Changbin.”

“Oh?” The questioning sound was inaudible. Your mind spun fast to understand what he meant with those petty words, and despite being quite entertained by his reaction, you still felt bitter at how unfairly he was treating you. “Yet, you are with Yuna today.”

“Like I said, she dragged me out–“

“You are a grown, not to mention a man. You have more than enough capability to refuse any unwanted situation,” you said. “All you had to do was tell her no. She would have listened to you considering how much she likes you.”

“What? You’re just going to be mad at me about that for the rest of your life?” Minho clicked his tongue in annoyance. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away to convince himself not to explode. “You know, I’ve got plenty of reasons to be mad at you about too!”

You shrugged. “Enlighten me.”

“You went to talk to my mom about getting a divorce,” he accused, his eyes sparklingly wide. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was so upset that he was about to cry.

A part of you was shocked that she told on you, but you wouldn’t put the blame on her for talking to her own son about his relationship. You just hoped she didn’t disclose in detail what you talked to her about. After all, you have really only known Minho for a few days. Your bad opinions of him, although true, were not ideals you wanted to weigh on his back for the rest of his life. A couple of days should not sum up his entire life.

However, in the heat of this situation, your logic was completely thrown out and you both were only aiming to hurt and blame each other as much as you could.  

“Huh… I see.” Your shoulder relaxed and your gaze softened as a realization dawned upon you. “You aren’t mad about me coming home late. You don’t care about that at all,” you breathed out a faint, bitter chuckle, “you’re just mad because I talked to your mom about getting a divorce and you got an earful today.”

“Oh, oh no. It is so much more than that.”

“What else are you mad about?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up as you desperately tried to defend yourself the same way Minho was trying to stand on his ground. “If this is about Changbin, I highly suggest you stop caring–“

“I have to care!” He raised his voice, taking a step towards you. He stopped when you took the same steps back. “We are married, and you just went running off with some other man for an entire day–”

“Let’s not act like you love me enough to care about who I am with, Minho,” you pointed out, furrowing your brows at him. “Even if we are married legally, emotionally, we are as connected as parallel lines.”

He paused at your pretentious yet still poetic line, wondering since when have you gotten the ability to talk with your chin up like that. Then he snapped back to the argument at hand, his head tilting to the side as he hardened his gaze at you. But he wasn’t that angry anymore. He was confused, or at least baffled. “You don’t think I care about you even a slightest bit?”

You heaved a sign. Well, let’s count off all the things he has done for you so far: putting you back to your bed after you fainted, buying you dinner, being a little possessive when Changbin was pinching your cheek, worrying about you being late. For sure, those were pretty heart-racing things to do, and it seemed the effect on your fragile feelings were magnified with his good-looks. But it would not be enough if he only does good things in the shadow. His pretty silhouette could never outrun the shadow that was his stone-cold facade, and he was over here chasing after the impossible sun.

“Maybe a little bit, but I don’t want to settle for a little bit of care,” you told him. “Especially when there is someone out there who is able to provide me with so much more straightforwardly.”

Minho laughed sardonically, rolling his eyes. “We just circle back to that insufferable best friend of yours–“

“No!” You snapped, clapping your hands together on impulse.

Your eyes were wide and teary now, you were really getting into the argument. It felt almost exhilarating; you have never fought with anyone like this before. Fighting over love and whatnot. It wasn’t what you hoped to do. You were really aiming for a much calmer conversation. But at the mention of Changbin, who has been nothing but patient and kind to you, you could not stop yourself from setting the record straight.

“This has nothing to do with Changbin. It has everything to do with you and your shitty attitude, Minho, starting from the first moment I met you until now!” You counted off your fingers, numbering the things he’s done. “You look at me like I’m beneath you. You talk to me like I’m not important at all. We don’t share a bed, we don’t share a closet. You set rules for me around the house. From the sound of it, I’m not even supposed to step into your room. Why is that, Minho? I am really curious about that, truly.”

You stopped talking, but you and him both knew there was more to say than all that you have spoken of.

“I have never complained about anything, have I? All I did is love you, and you took advantage of that to become a spoiled brat,” you said, your hands joined together for a moment before they released each other. Your fingers lingered on the ring, twisting it and turning it as you contemplated your next move.

Minho was speechless as he stared at the ground, but his head was positioned high enough for you to still see his expression. For the first time, he looked genuinely distressed. His fist clenched at his side and his lips trembling in realization. Of these past two days, of all the times before you were even here, of how he has treated you.

You breathed out a soft sigh after calming down. You were sure Minho must have good qualities in him that made ‘you’ fall in love with him in the first place. And, bouncing back to all the dramas you have watched, all characters like him are often too romantically incapable when it came to expressing their true feelings. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you, it was just that he didn’t know how to show it. People like him need a lot of time and comfort, which you were completely willing to give if he was willing to try.

“Look, Minho.” You volunteered to step up so you could be closer to him, closing the distance for an unreachable form of intimacy. You looked at him, an unknown feeling coming over you as you gently tipped his chin up with your fingertips. He looked at you, surprised, but he listened. “I am sure I loved you for a reason, but I can’t love you when you’re like this. I refuse to.”

“How could anyone ever love you like this?” Nobody can, Minho. Not when you couldn’t show the pile of gold locked up in your heart. What have you been so afraid of? Why wouldn’t you let it out?

Minho’s eyes watered and he bit his feelings back. “What do you want me to do?”

“If I tell you then there’s no meaning to it.” You shrugged as you let him go, and he missed the warmth of your touch. You reached for your own hand as you smiled politely at him. “You can hold onto this for me.”

You left the room after you handed him the object. The door closed behind him and Minho opened his hand. The wedding ring stood on his palm, shining bright and expensive. 

It looked as if it would cost him his entire heart.

#stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x oc #skz x y/n #skz x oc #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #minho imagines #minho x reader #minho x you #minho x y/n #lee know imagines #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know x reader #lee know scenarios #minho scenarios

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Why Won’t Bang Chan Let Nicholas Drink? | Stray Kids Extra Member AU

Chan tells STAY why Nicholas isn't allowed to drink.

WARNINGS: Nicholas is an emotional whiny drunk.

@cafekitsune made the dividers | Nicholas Ross Master List

Another Chan's Room episode and another chaotic conversation with STAY. Chan had been talking about his room when a comment caught his eye.

"Who in Stray Kids doesn't drink?" Chan read as he laughed. "I don't."

"Nicholas isn't allowed to drink," Chan continued as he watched the comments.

He thought of the first and last time Nicholas got drunk. It was a completely new experience with the younger boy, and Chan wasn't trying to have a repeat.

"Nicholas has only gotten drunk once, and I plan on keeping it that way," He laughed as he crossed his arms.

"Why isn't he allowed to drink?" Chan hummed in thought as he looked up.

"He gets super emotional," He answered as he tilted his head. "Like, everything makes him laugh or cry. There is no in-between."

He remembers the experience like it was yesterday.

"I still don't know how he got drunk. He was there one second, and he was gone the next."

"Does anyone know where Nick went?" Jeongin asked as he looked around the living room.

Everyone was at the 3racha + Hyunjin's dorm for a sleepover. They had pillows and blankets covering the floor with snacks and a hot meal Minho had cooked.

On the couch lay Felix, Seungmin, and Hyunjin. In front of them were Jisung and Minho, with Chan and Changbin to their right. That left Jeongin and Nicholas to lie on the left of Minho.

"He came out of nowhere, and Felix showed him something, and he just started crying."

Nicholas walked into the living room. Well, he waddled more than he walked. Moments showed where Minho came up with the nickname Penguin.

Without a word, Nicholas waddled over to Jeongin and kneeled over him before flopping down. Letting out an 'oof' when Nick collided with him, Jeongin wrapped his arms around the older.

"Look, Bug," Felix cooed, waving his hand at the tallest male. He smiled when Nicholas looked up at him with bleary eyes. "It's a kitty."

It was a kitten. A gorgeous tuxedo kitten wrapped up in a blanket like a baby. It's arms and legs were tucked away, so only its head stuck out of the burrito blanket.

While Jeongin smiled at the cat, Nicholas' eyes teared up. Felix frowned as he sat up, almost falling off the couch, trying to comfort the older male.

"It doesn't have any arms," Nicholas sniffled, snatching the phone from Felix and showing Minho the video. The shorter boy snorted before pausing.

He leaned forward and smelt Nicholas' breath before recoiling. Minho shouted as he pointed at the crying boy, "He's been drinking!"

"Why doesn't it have any arms?" Nicholas huffed, showing the phone to Hyunjin, who was cooing at him.

"I still don't know where he would have found it."

"How did he get liquor?! We don't have any here!" Chan shouted, running to get water for the now-crying Nicholas. He was wrapped in a pile of blankets, sandwiched between Hyunjin and Jisung. A giggling Jeongin was still under him.

Minho was fixing Nicholas a small plate of food so he wouldn't upset his stomach. While Changbin, Felix, and Seungmin watched the chaos that was Chan in the kitchen.

"Why doesn't it have any arms?" Nick cried.

“He also complains about the taste of it.”

"Hyunnie," Nick whined, and Hyunjin threw his head back to hide his smile before looking at the younger.

"What, darling?" He whispered, softly stroking Nick's cheek.

"I drank something disgusting," Nick sniffled. Everyone laughed as he whined at them.

"Yeah, he hates drinking, but he will if you just hand him something," Chan said, blinking fast to escape the memory. He smiled at STAY before moving on to the next question.

"Do we use Nick's height to our advantage? Of course!"

Nicholas Ross Master List

©️DEANAMEANTAE2023

Tags list: @bada-lee-ily, @jinnie-ret, @hwxnghyynjin, You can be added by asking in the replies, sending me a message, or doing an ask thingy.

#deantae nicholas ross #skz 9th member #skz x reader #stray kids 9th member #stray kids x reader #stray kids x male reader #skz x 9th member #skz x male reader #9th member of skz #9th member of stray kids #stray kids with the 9th member #stray kids extra member #skz x oc #stray kids x oc

[txtmetonight]

"Do you think we're soulmates in every universe?"

Your fingers trace the dirt below you two, lips smiling as you sigh at his words, looking up to meet Felix's eyes. "I would believe so. In every universe...every lifetime." You wipe the blood away from his mouth when he leans closer to place his forehead against yours. "In our next life..." Your lover breathes, grasping the armor on his back before he painfully wrenches it away from his body, crying out as the arrow lodged in between the both of you drags inside your body. You barely even flinch at the pain, too much in love with Felix–just too numb to your surroundings.

Your jewels are covered in blood and the such expensive clothing you wear is dirtied but Felix thinks that you're so heavenly, so beautiful that he's going to die as a happy man for your beauty is not comparable to anything in his gray world–you are his color red of passion. "In our next life what?" You ask, voice cracking when he places his lips just where your heartbeat slowly thumps, tears falling against your neck when he kisses your pulse.

"I'm gonna make sure that you don't ever leave me." His blonde hair tickles you when he turns to the side and stares at the lain body of the fallen prince, his mouth wide open upon Felix throwing his own dagger at his heart; upon trying to kill you.

War used to rage but now it was all calm.

You grab the jaw of your own prince and turn him back to gaze at you, enveloping his hands with yours, freezing and cold as both of your bodies get your life sucked away from them. You could taste the mere moments of death on your tongue so you slowly push the sweaty bangs from Felix's face, drinking him in. "I love you." He pushes himself forward to kiss you softly, and you feel safe. "I love you too, darling. Sleep well. I'll wake you up when the time comes."

The rocks supporting your body gives up and you both fall into a peaceful trance when you both thud against the rocky floor.

With your hearts contempt and your eyes forever closed in a never-ending slumber–you suppose that the history books will always note the love between you two. But not how fate will continue that love on forever with a red string connecting both your pinkies.

#lol i love this trend so much #skz x reader #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #k-labels #stray kids #lee felix #stray kids angst #felix angst #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #felix #skz scenarios #skz angst #skz #skz minho #stray kids x oc #kpop x reader #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #kpop #felix stray kids #felix x you

[straykeedz]

goodnight; lmh

pairing: lee know x reader;

genre: drabble; 

rating: smut, fluff; 

word count: 1.3k-ish;

TW: explicit content [clit play, unprotected piv intercourse (don't), creampie]; Minho’s a cutie in this one; 

minors dni!

disclaimer: this is pure fiction! also, english is not my first language, so feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes!

❤︎

It’s one of those nights. 

One of those nights where you just can’t sleep.

Your boyfriend is asleep next to you, has been for hours now. He’s spooning you, his arm wrapped around your figure. You usually don’t have much trouble falling asleep, especially if Minho’s by your side, but tonight’s just different. 

You let out a deep sigh, realizing you’re nowhere near to falling asleep. 

All of a sudden, you feel Minho’s hand squeeze your waist. You jolt in surprise, for you weren’t expecting him to be awake at nearly two in the morning. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. His eyes are still closed, but you know he’s awake. You can tell by the way his breathing changed. 

“Thought you were sleeping…”, you murmur. 

He yawns sleepily. “I was. You were squirming a lot.”, he points out. 

“I’m sorry, baby.”, you mutter, feeling guilty. 

“It’s okay.” He pulls you closer to his body, and slips his hand under your t-shirt -well, it’s technically his t-shirt-. “What’s up, baby?”, he places a soft kiss on your clothed shoulder, gently caressing your abdomen with the pads of his fingers. “Can’t sleep?”

“Mh-hm.”, you hum. 

“Why?” Minho’s fingers trace imaginary shapes on your skin. “Is something on your mind, baby?”, he asks, kissing the nape of your neck, which sends a shiver down your spine and makes your breath hitch. 

Is something on your mind? You don’t know, to be honest. There’s nothing that’s particularly bothering you, you just can’t sleep. You shake your head. 

“You sure?”, he murmurs. 

His raspy, sleepy voice makes your heart start beating faster as you feel yourself getting wet. 

“Positive.”, you reassure him. “I just can’t sleep.”

His fingers move southwards. “Maybe I can help with that?”, he whispers. Now his fingers are right above the hem of your panties, toying with the delicate lace. Your eyes widen. He places a kiss behind your ear, earning a muffled moan from you. You can’t see him, but he smirks, satisfied. “Can I?”, he asks for permission.

You nod. A whimper leaves your mouth when his knuckles brush your clothed core, right above your clit. Damn, this man really knows how to make you squirm for him. Then, you feel the pad of his index and middle finger right on your slit. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked.”, he lets out a small whimper, clearly surprised to have found your panties so wet. “Can I take these off, sweetheart?”, he asks, toying with the hem of your underwear, ready to slide them off your thighs.  

“Yes.”, you whisper.

Minho kisses your clothed shoulder once again, as he slowly slides your panties over the curve of your ass and, finally, off your things. You feel his erection pressed against your back, and move your hand to touch him, but Minho grabs you by the wrist and halts your movements before you could reach his hard cock. 

“Not now, sweetheart. This is about you.”, he whispers into your ear. 

He brings his fingers to his mouth to coat them in his saliva, and you honestly think you’re about to pass out when he places them on your clit. A moan escapes your lips as soon as he starts to draw circular shapes on your sensitive nub. 

“Do you like that, sweetheart?”, he asks. 

“Yes- fuck”, you let out a choked moan. “I love it.”

He doesn’t respond to that, and keeps on rubbing on your clit instead. You whimper at the loss of contact when his fingers move southwards to your slit to collect your wetness. 

He lets out a deep, guttural groan. “Fuck, babygirl, you’re so wet.”, he delicately bites on your shoulder. “I could slip right in…”, he whispers, circling your entrance with his fingers, before bringing them back on your clit.

You want it. 

“Please do.”

You feel his raging hard cock twitch in his boxers. 

“You don’t want to cum first, sweetheart?”, he asks, wanting to make sure it’s what you really want. 

You shake your head. “Want you.” 

He groans, before retrieving his long fingers from your clit. Then, he swiftly gets rid of his underwear, and you jolt at the sudden contact of his bare, hard cock with your naked ass. He lifts your t-shirt over your hips to make sure it doesn’t get in the way. Then, you feel the tip of his cock gently brushing your wet, sticky slit. He rests his hand on your hip, gently squeezing the flesh, as he coats the tip of his erection in your arousal. 

“You ready?”, he asks to make sure you haven’t changed your mind in the meanwhile. 

You haven’t. You want this very much. 

“Yes.”

Then, you feel the tip of his cock gently enter you, parting your folds. You can’t help but let out a whiny moan at the familiar stretch. Minho lets out a deep grunt as he squeezes on your hip harder. His cock is not even halfway in and you’re already dripping, and it turns him on like crazy. 

He pushes in slowly, careful not to hurt you. Once you’re full to the brim, he takes a few moments to let you adjust to the feeling of having him inside you. The feeling is familiar, yet it never fails to amaze you, it’s like you were made for each other. 

“So tight, sweetheart.”, he moans, biting on his lower lip as he feels his cock twitch inside you. 

You turn to face him, desperate to feel his lips on yours. “So big.”, you moan on his lips, before kissing him again. 

He starts to gently rocking his hips, thrusting inside your slit as wet sounds fill the room. He slips his hand under your t-shirt once again, and cups one of your breasts, squeezing it, careful not to hurt you. 

“I wanna fuck this pussy forever.”, he groans, pinching your nipple with the pads of his fingers, earning a choked moan from you. The tip of his cock repeatedly brushes over your g-spot, and you know you’re getting closer and closer to reaching your high. “Wanna marry you, babygirl.”, he bites on your shoulder to muffle his own moans. “Wanna fuck you forever.”, he repeats. 

As he keeps talking to you, you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your arousal now drenching his cock and his balls. The pressure on your g-spot is just right, and you’re starting to feel the familiar sensation of your orgasm approaching. 

“Are you gonna cum, babygirl?”, he asks you and you nod in response, breathing getting heavier. 

Minho removes his hand from your chest and brings it back on your pussy, and starts to play with your clit once again. His cock and fingers bring you over the edge in record time, and before you know it, you’re squeezing like crazy around his cock, coating it in your release. 

“Fuck- I’m close babygirl, I’m so close.”, he chants, his movements becoming irregular as he desperately tries to reach his own high. “Gonna cum inside you- oh God.”, he chokes. 

Then, he halts his movements and stops thrusting. You feel his cock twitch like crazy inside of you, and you feel his warm liquid squirt out of him, coating your walls.

You remain silent for a while, your bedroom filled only with your heavy breathings. Minho gently kisses the back of your neck as he comes down from his breathtaking high. His cock is softening inside of you, allowing his seed to drip out of you. 

“I love you so much, y/n.”, he whispers, sounding already sleepy. 

“I love you too.”, you turn your head to place a soft kiss on Minho’s forehead. “I don’t want to get up…”, you whine, you feel too comfortable in his embrace. 

“No, don’t get up.”, he pouts in protest, squeezing your body even tighter and you laugh at his cute reaction. “Why do you have to get up?”

“I’ve got to pee and clean myself, baby, but I’ll be back quick and then we can cuddle and fall asleep like that, okay?”

Minho can’t help but smile. “Sounds perfect.”

❤︎

#stray kids #skz #fic #stray kids masterlist #lee know #lee minho #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x oc #lee know x oc #lee minho x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #lee know hard thoughts #lee know hard hours #lee minho smut #lee minho hard thoughts #lee minho hard hours #minho smut #minho hard thoughts #minho hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #lee know fic #lee minho x reader smut

[gabigabigabby]

STRAY KIDS.

last updated; 17 january, 2024

BANG CHAN.

nothing yet!

LEE KNOW.

nothing yet!

CHANGBIN.

nothing yet!

HYUNJIN.

nothing yet!

HAN.

nothing yet!

FELIX.

nothing yet!

SEUNGMIN.

nothing yet!

I.N.

nothing yet!

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x oc #stray kids x stay #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #jeongin #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #kpop x poc reader #kpop x you #kpop x oc