kiiakpopwriter

[kiiakpopwriter]

MONSTA X Reacts To You Having a Pet Lizard (Because, why not?)

Shownu

He'd think it's pretty cool, to be honest. He might not say a lot, but he'd definitely admire the little creature with a sense of curiosity. He'd probably ask how you got the animal and how much it cost.

Wonho

The most adorable reaction ever! He would get really excited and ask you all sorts of questions about your lizard; like what it eats, who its predators are, and how often it needs care.

Minhyuk

He just can't help but want to hold it, LMAO. This dude is definitely going to ask if he can pick up your lizard and play with it. You can totally see the fascination in his eyes.

Kihyun

He'd help you look after your lizard. He'll head to the pet store to grab everything needed to keep your lizard happy and healthy. Kind of like a nurturing mother figure, you know?

Hyungwon

He's a different kind of guy who's really curious. He also asks questions to get to know your lizard better. To be honest? Hyungwon would likely be puzzled about why you even have a lizard in the first place. 💀

Joohoney (Jooheon)

Jooheon is going to try chatting with your lizard, oh my gosh. He might even pull off some aegyo, LOL. He'll think your pet is both adorable and intriguing. Jooheon would definitely come up with a special nickname for the lizard.

Changkyun (I.M)

Changkyun would offer some advice to improve your lizard's health. It's not that he doubts your ability to care for your pet—he genuinely wants to assist. He'd spend hours researching and return to you with findings. A helpful guy indeed.

[kiiakpopwriter]

How MONSTA X Reacts to Your Confession After Class

- College AU, Fluff

Shownu

When you muster the bravery to reveal your feelings for him, he would be caught off guard. Usually, he keeps to himself, hardly noticing anyone or anything around him.

He never anticipated that someone would have feelings for him.

His charming smile would say everything.

For a brief moment, he would need to gather his thoughts before responding:

"Yes, I like you too. I’m shocked that you feel the same way."

Wonho

He would find you utterly charming. His kind heart would fill with true happiness as he absorbs your confession.

Wonho would pay close attention to you, allowing you the space to articulate your emotions for him thoroughly.

As you share your heartfelt sentiments, he's grinning both inside and out. He's EAGER to reveal that he has a crush on you too.

"I'm thrilled you shared your feelings with me. Because, to be honest, I feel the same about you."

Minhyuk

You and Minhyuk were best friends since childhood. Therefore, when Minhyuk discovered your feelings for him, he was overjoyed.

He learned about your secret crush from one of your classmates. They revealed it to him because they were fed up with you not admitting your feelings.

Were you pleased that they told him? Not really. However, that sentiment shifted quickly when Minhyuk revealed that he felt the same way about you.

"Hold on, Y/N- do you have feelings for me? No, no, it's fine! I really like you too!"

Kihyun

Oh, this guy is quite full of himself. He was AWARE that you had feelings for him, yet he held back to see if you would ever admit it.

Eventually, you did.

To your astonishment, he revealed that he was already aware. He had noticed your unmistakable glances and stares from across the room.

Sure, he can be cocky, but he’ll dial it back for you. After all, he has feelings for you as well and doesn’t want to push you away.

"I think it was pretty clear. But don’t fret, because I’ve had a crush on you for quite a while too."

Hyungwon

This adorable goofball would chuckle awkwardly at your admission. He was just as shy as you and equally hesitant to express his feelings.

One day, you reached a breaking point and shared your emotions with Hyungwon.

A massive weight lifted off his chest the moment you revealed your feelings. Now, he can be honest and open with you.

"I'm really happy you shared that with me. I was almost too afraid to confess myself, worried that you might not feel the same way."

Joohoney (Jooheon)

When you confessed your feelings to Jooheon, his response was absolutely unforgettable.

Being the dramatic person he is, he dramatically clutched his heart and pretended to collapse.

This hilarious reaction made you chuckle, and he quickly got back up to envelop you in a warm embrace.

As he wrapped his arms around you, he expressed his feelings:

"Y/N, you are truly stunning. Honestly. From the moment I met you, I realized I had genuine feelings for you. I appreciate your confession, as it allows me to demonstrate just how much I truly cherish you."

I.M (Changkyun)

I.M was a reserved individual, yet he had a knack for turning on the charm when the situation called for it.

One afternoon after class, you approached him at his locker and expressed your feelings.

I.M would mention that he was aware of your crush on him. He also shared that he enjoyed seeing you blush from his charming actions. He found you utterly adorable.

"You have feelings for me? Darling, I was already aware of that. But it's perfectly fine, as I have feelings for you too. How about we go on a date sometime?"

[kiiakpopwriter]

The Seat by the Window (I.M of MONSTA X)

Genre: Romance, College AU Starring: Changkyun (I.M of MONSTA X)

The philosophy building’s coffee shop was tucked away from the noise of campus life. Its light was always soft, the air filled with the comforting scent of espresso and old books. Students filtered in and out throughout the day, but in the afternoons, it grew quiet. Peaceful.

That was when you usually came.

You liked the window seat near the bookshelf—partly because it was warm from the sunlight, partly because it made you feel invisible. No one ever noticed you there. No one except him.

Changkyun.

You’d first seen him mid-semester, slouched in that same corner, a black hoodie pulled low over his brow and a notebook open in front of him. Not a laptop, not a textbook—an actual notebook. He filled page after page with messy handwriting, his fingers smudged with ink, expression unreadable.

Everyone on campus seemed to know him. Poetry major. Quiet. The kind of person who kept his thoughts close but, somehow, left an impression without saying much.

And today, he was in your seat.

You hesitated at the door, coffee in hand, unsure whether to turn around or just find another table. Before you could decide, he looked up.

“You can sit,” he said, voice low and smooth. “There’s enough space.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Are you sure?”

His lips curved into a small, crooked smile. “You sit there all the time. I figured you’d show up.”

That made your heart jump a little. He’d noticed you?

You slid into the booth, settling across from him, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “I didn’t think anyone paid attention.”

“I pay attention,” he said simply, eyes flicking back to his notebook.

Silence stretched for a while, only broken by the occasional clink of a spoon or the hum of a coffee grinder behind the counter. You tried to focus on your notes, but you could feel his presence—still, focused, almost magnetic. Eventually, curiosity won.

“What are you always writing?” you asked, your voice soft so as not to disturb the spell of the place.

“Poems,” he replied, still scribbling. “Or at least trying to.”

“About what?”

He looked up, meeting your eyes in that calm, unreadable way of his. “Everything. Anything. Depends on the day.”

“Can I read one?”

You expected him to say no. But after a moment of silence, he flipped the notebook around and slid it toward you. “Sure.”

The pages were full—lines crossed out, verses rewritten, tiny doodles in the margins. You picked one at random.

It was about a girl.

A girl who sat by the window, always quiet, always reading. Someone who seemed to blend in, but somehow lit up the room just by being there. She didn’t speak much, didn’t realize that someone noticed every time she walked in.

Your chest tightened.

“This is about me,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t look surprised. “Maybe.”

You smiled despite yourself. “So I’ve been your muse all this time?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, but his smile widened.

You read the poem again, slower this time. The words were raw but honest. Beautiful in a way that felt almost too personal.

“I could help you write sometime,” you offered, closing the notebook carefully.

His brows raised. “You write?”

You shrugged. “I try. Not poetry, though. Mostly short stories.”

“Perfect,” he said. “You write the stories. I’ll write the poems. We’ll meet here.”

“Every day?”

“Only if you buy the coffee.”

You laughed, nodding. “Deal.”

You sat there a while longer, the late afternoon light softening everything around you. It didn’t feel awkward. It didn’t feel like the first conversation you’d ever had with him. It just… felt right.

And somehow, without even realizing it, the coffee shop didn’t feel like your quiet escape anymore. It felt like a beginning.

A poem waiting to be written.

[kiiakpopwriter]

Ahhhhh thank you so much!!! Your thoughts and comments really help a ton!! I love to write, and also include Hyungwon in more stuff! 💗🤧🥺

Your feedback is greatly appreciated! 🥹💗

🖤 𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓥𝓲𝓷𝔂𝓵 𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓹 🖤

(soft angst • slow burn • magical realism)

There’s a vinyl shop that only appears when you’re lost. And Hyungwon is always there—waiting with a song you don’t remember, but somehow know by heart.

It always rained when you didn’t know where you were going.

Not heavy rain—just a gentle drizzle that turned reflections into brushstrokes, city lights into watercolors. It was the kind of rain that made the world feel like it was waiting for something.

You wandered through the quiet streets of Seoul long after midnight, unsure why your feet kept moving when your mind had nowhere to be.

The city had emptied itself. Shop windows were dark. Streetlights flickered overhead, humming like they were tired, too. Everything was still. Soft. As if the world had hit pause.

And then, through the mist, you saw it.

A tiny record shop, wedged between a shuttered teahouse and a crumbling laundromat. You almost missed it—no bright sign, no open light—just a warm amber glow behind fogged windows and a wooden door that didn’t seem to belong to this century.

"Midnight Records."

The name was carved into the wood above the entrance in a faded cursive script, so delicate it almost looked like a memory.

You hesitated. Then stepped inside.

The bell above the door chimed with a soft, delicate sound—like the first note of a forgotten lullaby. Inside, the air was warm and golden, scented faintly with sandalwood and dust.

Old records lined the walls, stacked in wooden crates, humming silently with stories. A slow jazz track crackled on an old speaker, like something from a dream.

Behind the counter stood someone you weren’t expecting.

He looked up from a thick, weathered book as you entered. His gaze met yours—calm, unreadable, but strangely familiar. There was something about the curve of his lips, the quiet intensity in his eyes. He didn’t look surprised to see you. He looked like he’d been waiting.

“Back again,” he said, voice smooth, low.

You blinked, heart skipping. “Have we met?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if the question amused him. “Not here.”

You didn’t know what that meant.

But you didn’t leave.

He set the book down and reached beneath the counter, pulling out a single vinyl. No label. No sleeve. Just black, matte, flawless. You stared at it, confused.

“What’s this?”

“For you,” he said, simply.

“Why?”

“Because you asked for it.”

“I didn’t—”

“Not out loud.”

Your hands brushed as you took the record from him. His touch was cool but grounding, like standing in the rain under a soft light.

He looked at you like he knew every answer to every question you were too scared to ask.

“Play it tonight,” he said. “You’ll understand.”

....

You left the shop in a daze, the record clutched to your chest.

The streets were quieter now. The rain lighter. But everything felt different—like the city had shifted just slightly, like the world had tilted toward something you couldn't see but could feel pressing just beneath the surface.

At exactly midnight, you placed the needle on the record.

There was a breath of static—then silence.

Then music.

Soft, slow, aching.

And then the room disappeared.

The walls melted into starlight, the ceiling into moonlit air. You were barefoot, standing in the center of the same record shop—but it shimmered now, infinite, full of warmth and wonder. Everything glowed softly, like it remembered you.

And he was there.

Hyungwon.

He stepped toward you slowly, eyes catching the light like water catches the moon.

“You found me,” he whispered.

You wanted to ask a thousand things. What is this? Who are you? Why does this feel like home?

But all that came out was:

“Why do I feel like I’ve been here before?”

“Because you have.”

He reached for your hand, and when your fingers touched, it felt like unlocking a door you’d forgotten you ever closed.

“You asked for a song,” he said. “One that would help you remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Us.”

And then the music swelled—strings and piano and longing—and you danced. Not perfectly. Not gracefully. Just honestly. And in that moment, you weren’t in a record shop or a dream or a city that never sleeps.

You were in a feeling.

A memory made new again.

The song faded slowly.

And with it, the light.

You woke up in your apartment, alone, the vinyl still spinning in silence. Your cheeks were wet—not with rain.

You ran back the next day. Heart racing. Hope burning.

But the shop was gone.

No door. No sign. Just brick. As if it had never existed.

But on quiet nights, when the rain falls soft and the city slows down, sometimes you still hear the music. Faint and faraway.

A melody stitched into the mist.

And you know, he’s still waiting.

For the next song.

For the next life.

For you.

[kiiakpopwriter]

🖤 𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓥𝓲𝓷𝔂𝓵 𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓹 🖤

(soft angst • slow burn • magical realism)

There’s a vinyl shop that only appears when you’re lost. And Hyungwon is always there—waiting with a song you don’t remember, but somehow know by heart.

It always rained when you didn’t know where you were going.

Not heavy rain—just a gentle drizzle that turned reflections into brushstrokes, city lights into watercolors. It was the kind of rain that made the world feel like it was waiting for something.

You wandered through the quiet streets of Seoul long after midnight, unsure why your feet kept moving when your mind had nowhere to be.

The city had emptied itself. Shop windows were dark. Streetlights flickered overhead, humming like they were tired, too. Everything was still. Soft. As if the world had hit pause.

And then, through the mist, you saw it.

A tiny record shop, wedged between a shuttered teahouse and a crumbling laundromat. You almost missed it—no bright sign, no open light—just a warm amber glow behind fogged windows and a wooden door that didn’t seem to belong to this century.

"Midnight Records."

The name was carved into the wood above the entrance in a faded cursive script, so delicate it almost looked like a memory.

You hesitated. Then stepped inside.

The bell above the door chimed with a soft, delicate sound—like the first note of a forgotten lullaby. Inside, the air was warm and golden, scented faintly with sandalwood and dust.

Old records lined the walls, stacked in wooden crates, humming silently with stories. A slow jazz track crackled on an old speaker, like something from a dream.

Behind the counter stood someone you weren’t expecting.

He looked up from a thick, weathered book as you entered. His gaze met yours—calm, unreadable, but strangely familiar. There was something about the curve of his lips, the quiet intensity in his eyes. He didn’t look surprised to see you. He looked like he’d been waiting.

“Back again,” he said, voice smooth, low.

You blinked, heart skipping. “Have we met?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if the question amused him. “Not here.”

You didn’t know what that meant.

But you didn’t leave.

He set the book down and reached beneath the counter, pulling out a single vinyl. No label. No sleeve. Just black, matte, flawless. You stared at it, confused.

“What’s this?”

“For you,” he said, simply.

“Why?”

“Because you asked for it.”

“I didn’t—”

“Not out loud.”

Your hands brushed as you took the record from him. His touch was cool but grounding, like standing in the rain under a soft light.

He looked at you like he knew every answer to every question you were too scared to ask.

“Play it tonight,” he said. “You’ll understand.”

....

You left the shop in a daze, the record clutched to your chest.

The streets were quieter now. The rain lighter. But everything felt different—like the city had shifted just slightly, like the world had tilted toward something you couldn't see but could feel pressing just beneath the surface.

At exactly midnight, you placed the needle on the record.

There was a breath of static—then silence.

Then music.

Soft, slow, aching.

And then the room disappeared.

The walls melted into starlight, the ceiling into moonlit air. You were barefoot, standing in the center of the same record shop—but it shimmered now, infinite, full of warmth and wonder. Everything glowed softly, like it remembered you.

And he was there.

Hyungwon.

He stepped toward you slowly, eyes catching the light like water catches the moon.

“You found me,” he whispered.

You wanted to ask a thousand things. What is this? Who are you? Why does this feel like home?

But all that came out was:

“Why do I feel like I’ve been here before?”

“Because you have.”

He reached for your hand, and when your fingers touched, it felt like unlocking a door you’d forgotten you ever closed.

“You asked for a song,” he said. “One that would help you remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Us.”

And then the music swelled—strings and piano and longing—and you danced. Not perfectly. Not gracefully. Just honestly. And in that moment, you weren’t in a record shop or a dream or a city that never sleeps.

You were in a feeling.

A memory made new again.

The song faded slowly.

And with it, the light.

You woke up in your apartment, alone, the vinyl still spinning in silence. Your cheeks were wet—not with rain.

You ran back the next day. Heart racing. Hope burning.

But the shop was gone.

No door. No sign. Just brick. As if it had never existed.

But on quiet nights, when the rain falls soft and the city slows down, sometimes you still hear the music. Faint and faraway.

A melody stitched into the mist.

And you know, he’s still waiting.

For the next song.

For the next life.

For you.

[kiiakpopwriter]

Kihyun (몬스타엑스 / MONSTA X )

25.05.2025 - PEAK FESTIVAL, Seoul

[kiiakpopwriter]

New video!

26.05.2025 - I.M - Kiss The Radio special DJ Hyungwon (몬스타엑스 / MONSTA X)

[몬스타엑스 I.M의 키스 더 라디오] 작가는 아닙니다만 ?! with. 스페셜 DJ 몬스타엑스 형원 | KBS 250526 방송 (KBS CoolFM)

[kiiakpopwriter]

Is this man real?

[kiiakpopwriter]

⤷ ⋅˚₊‧ shownu; lockscreens ⋆˚. ᵎᵎ

≡ like/reblog if you save or use. thank you ★

[kiiakpopwriter]

250526 Hyungwon Berriz TalkTok Update

포토바이 셔누 비공개컷🍜

Unreleased cut taken by photographer Shownu 🍜

Translation by @boredMONBEBE

[kiiakpopwriter]

250526 @OfficialMonstaX Twitter update

[kiiakpopwriter]

New photos. Vogue Korea (05/.2025)

❤ Shownu 몬스타엑스 / MONSTA X ❤ ^-^

source Shownu IG

[kiiakpopwriter]

250527 im_kisstheradio Instagram Update

im_kisstheradio: 💜

[kiiakpopwriter]

250527 im_kisstheradio Instagram Update

im_kisstheradio: 💜

[kiiakpopwriter]

250527 @OfficialMonstaX Twitter Update

[kiiakpopwriter]

250527 @OfficialMonstaX Twitter Update

[kiiakpopwriter]

250527 @OfficialMonstaX Twitter Update