pnutbutter-n-j-elyy

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

VOTE 1VERSE TOUR SPOTS ON KOOKY (Ohio fans don’t fail me now 😞)

I’m personally voting Ohio obviously 🤠 - since I’m stuck here and this could be my first ever K-pop concert 🥲 (so if anyone wants to help a girl out 😭 🙏)

BUT EVEN IF YOU DONT VOTE OHIO OR DONT VOTE AT ALL GO SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!!

1Verse is AMAZING and their company’s CEO Michelle is focused completely on the happiness and mental wellbeing of her artists.

And not only that her entertainment company is focused as well on bringing more North Korean defectors to give them a home and a career in the music industry just as she’s doing with Hyuk and Seok right now. I think the mission of SingingBeetle and just what they’ve shown so far and just the utter light 1Verse is honestly so so amazing, so I think it’s def worth to check them out!

I’m super SUPER proud of the boys and honestly so happy that I’m supporting a group where happiness is the forefront. And I’m so happy seeing them grow into an even bigger group.

Here’s the boyssss:

Yu Hyuk 🧡 🐯 : North Korean. Rapper.

Kim Seok 💛 🐨 : North Korean. Vocalist.

Nathan Kousol 💚 🦜 : Laotian-Thai- American. Vocalist.

Kenny Hao (Hao Ruiran) 🩵 🦅: Chinese-American. Vocalist.

Muruta Aito 🤍 🐈‍⬛: Japanese. Dancer/Maknae.

1Verse!!!

HM: CEO Michelle she a girlboss and a baddie fr #OT6

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

I know you said it didn't bother you but I still want to let it be known that I (and a LOT of other people obviously) absolutely loved When Your Love Is Too Much and even if you had added 10 more parts it still would've been perfect, that anon was absolutely 100% trying to rage bait

(I also just wanted to take this opportunity to say that I loveeee your fics so much, you write my favorite kind of angst and you write it so well!!)

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW STOPPPPP THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY 🙁

This is literally me right now reading this.

In my utmost and full sincerity I do it for you guys just as much as I do it for me. I love writing it’s my passion and I would still write even if I was the only one reading my works. But it makes me so happy to see other people enjoy them as well and others appreciate it. It always brings a smile to my face when I think that someone hundreds of miles away could be reading something and smiling, giggling, or even letting their own imaginations loose. I’m sure tons of creators on here have similar sentiments.

Like I said I could be the only one reading, or there could be 5 or 10 people reading but even that thought alone makes me really happy.

So thank you so much for your kind words !! I’m sending all my love, hugs, blue skies and sunshine yalls way. 😊 💞

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When Your Love is too Much you should’ve left it be adding 3 more parts was doing too much 😐 and not too mention all that crying like don’t piss me off

0/10 ragebait bro.

If you don't like a fic, just scroll past- it's quicker than hunting down my blog to drop an anonymous hate message. The fact you couldn't even attach your name to your criticism says more about you than it does my writing.

I'm secure enough in my style that this doesn't bother me, but I'm posting this publicly because I want to make a point:

Authors spend their own free time creating and sharing work here for free. We don't owe anyone a certain format, update speed, or tone.

I split my fics because it's easier for some readers to digest in smaller parts and it keeps anticipation fun. And I’ve had messages thanking me for that.

Over 1,000 people liked that fic, and I have many amazing followers who support me in so many ways- so clearly, you're in the minority with this.

If patience isn't your thing, that's fine- just don't read. And maybe spend less time anonymously telling creators how to run their blogs.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hoodie

I’m very much aware I have another fic the same same as this one, but I saw another SKZ creator make a fic that had a Hey Violet song mentioned - (if the creator sees this or someone knows which fic it is please tag them because they unlocked memories of 11 year old me singing this song at the top of my lungs which then inspired this fic) - and I thought wouldn’t it be lovely for a little Drabble :)!!

You’ve told yourself you’re over it.

You say it in the mirror sometimes, just to hear how it sounds. I’m fine. I’m over it. You even make a game of it - repeating it while pulling his hoodie over your head, just to see if you can say the words without feeling the way the fabric tugs something deep in your chest.

You fail, every time.

The hoodie’s nothing special - gray, a little too big, the zipper stuck halfway up from the time it caught in the closet door. There are two small cigarette burns near the cuff, though he’d never admit he was the one who made them during times of stress. The drawstrings are frayed from the nights you chewed on them absentmindedly while he worked on lyrics, legs tangled with yours on the couch.

It doesn’t smell like him anymore, not exactly. Just detergent, city air, maybe a whisper of something warm and sweet, the slightest semblance of his cologne if you bury your face in it. But wearing it still feels like pressing your palm to a fading bruise - the pain isn’t sharp, but it’s there, stubborn and familiar.

The weeks after the breakup had been a blur: muted mornings, work that felt heavier than usual, silence where his goodnight calls should’ve been. People told you that you’d feel lighter without the constant distance, without counting the days until his next break. But “lighter” isn’t the word. You just felt… untethered.

The hoodie helped.

You wore it on laundry days, on nights when the wind rattled your windows, on the mornings you overslept and needed something to throw on without thinking. You wore it to bed more times than you’d admit.

And sometimes - on the lonelier days - you found yourself replaying the first time you met him.

It had been a late November afternoon, cold enough that your hands ached from holding your coffee. You’d been standing in line at the tiny café in the quieter part of downtown, distracted by the smell of cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven, when he’d bumped into you so hard you nearly lost your drink.

“Oh, crap- sorry, sorry,” he’d blurted, eyes wide. He’d tried to steady your cup, almost sloshing more coffee in the process. His cheeks had gone pink under the dim café lights.

You’d waved him off with a laugh. “Guess I should be grateful it’s not hot coffee.”

He’d smiled then - the kind that warmed you instantly - and insisted on buying you another one “Just in case you hate the taste of this one now.” You’d ended up at the same table, sipping coffee and talking until the café was closing, swapping stories about the worst meals you’d ever cooked and how you both hated early mornings after a restless night.

It had been easy. Effortless.

And now…

Now you find yourself standing outside that same café months later, the hoodie hanging heavy on your frame. You didn’t mean to come here - you’d taken the long way home, phone tucked in your pocket, letting your feet choose your path. But here you are, staring at the chipped paint on the café door, the faint glow from inside spilling onto the sidewalk.

You push the door open, the little bell above it chiming like it always has. The air smells the same: cinnamon, espresso, something baking in the back. The tables are still mismatched, the music still soft enough to hear the scrape of chairs against the floor.

You’re halfway to the counter when you see him.

He’s in the corner, the same table where you first sat together, hands wrapped around a mug as he stared down in thought. His hair’s shorter now, styled neatly, his muscles a bit more defined, his face more mature, but there’s a familiar crease between his brows like he’s been lost in thought.

And then he looks up.

For a heartbeat, the noise of the café drops away. His gaze locks on yours, steady and unflinching, and you swear the air shifts. There’s surprise there, sure - but also something softer, something that feels dangerously close to relief.

His eyes flick down to your hoodie.

His hoodie.

You can’t tell if he notices the frayed drawstrings between your fingers, the broken zipper that still catches, the worn cuffs that have seen better days. But his lips twitch upward, just barely, and you know he remembers everything they mean.

You stop a few steps away. Neither of you moves closer. Neither of you says a word.

It’s ridiculous, you think - standing here, wrapped in a piece of him you never let go of, in the exact place you first found each other. Maybe he thinks it’s psychotic.

Or maybe he feels as you do- like it feels almost right.

Your pulse stumbles.

His mouth lifts that tiny bit higher.

And for that small, suspended moment, it feels like the first time all over again.

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @staytinyarmy @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy @lezleeferguson-120 @enhacolor @madirye062 @kpopgirliez @elizais @channieschocco @st4rv3lly @blushnboba

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

All of the Lights | Part One

Full trope overview: Lee Know x Fem!Reader • Choreographer x Student AU • Retired Legend x Rising Prodigy • Grumpy Mentor x Sunshine-with-Sass • Enemies to Lovers •Rivalry + Mutual Obsession • Love Triangle Tension • Angst • Fluff • Late Night Rehearsals • Learning to Love Again • Past Ghosts • Hidden Trauma • Non-Sexual Intimacy • Charged Intimacy • Slightly Suggestion • Death • Depression • Self- Harm • Suicide • Cursing Stray Kids Masterlist

The studio smelled metallic, no doubt from the barre poles and the mixed breathes of everyone crammed together in the hot room.

Sweat already clung to your spine beneath your clothes, evidently contributing to the smell, your name tag itched against your chest, and the floor had that soft, worn polish that only came from generations of brilliance stomping the hell out of it.

Fifty dancers. Fifty stories of sacrifice, pain, and hunger wrapped in athletic tape and ambition.

And only ten names left to be called.

You stood like the others -  spine straight, arms behind your back, lips pressed thin. Every movement rehearsed. Even the way you breathed.

The man at the front of the room flipped his clipboard and read aloud with casual authority, voice deep and clear, his accent peeking through the edges of his words.

“Pairings for principal mentorships in Eros, District Nine’s Fall Production…”

Christopher Bang. One of District Nine’s artistic directors. Charismatic. Fair. Lethal in the audition room. And even more lethal in his looks.

His eyes flicked up briefly as he read. But they didn’t stop on you.

Not yet.

“Lee Haeun… assigned to Hwang Hyunjin.”

Your stomach clenched.

“Park Jiwon…with Seo Changbin. Choi Jihoon with Lee Felix.”

Another heartbeat.

“Ryu Jaemin, Male lead, to train under- Lee Minho.”

“And the female lead…”

A pause. A few heads turned.  “L/N Y/N. To also… train under Lee Minho.”

Silence.

It wasn’t loud. But it was sharp - the kind that sliced through the space before people even understood what they were reacting to.

You didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just let the weight of the name settle like dust in your lungs.

Lee Minho.

The man who hadn't danced in years.  The choreographer whose name was spoken with either awe or warning. The former prodigy turned ghost, turned myth, turned razor blade in human skin.

And now… your mentor.

************************************************************************

The light in the room was clinical. Not harsh - just sterile, like everything inside it had been scrubbed of sentimentality.

Lee Minho sat behind a sleek black desk, one hand flipping slowly through a printed brochure - production layouts, stage diagrams, costume notes.

His glasses rested between two fingers, unmoving. His jaw ticked once as he let out a long sigh.

He wasn’t reading. He was analyzing.

The sound of footsteps approaching didn’t cause him to look up.

Not until the door opened.

Chris leaned against the frame. “You heard?”

Minho turned a page.

“I don’t like guessing games, Hyung.” he said flatly. “Be specific.”

“Who pissed in your cheerios mate?” He responded with a chuckle that didn't quite land.

Minho met Chris with a stinging glare before returning his gaze back to the brochure.

The older aussie boy raised his hands up in defense, a light folder pinched in between the webbing of his thumb and index finger. He wiggled the folder like a treat in front of an uninterested cat.

Chris flipped open the folder, as he plopped in a chair across the desk.

“You’ve been assigned a mentee. Or mentees I should say.” His lips stretching into and exaggerated smile as he drawled out the last bit.

Silence.

A beat passed. Then another.

Minho finally looked up. Glasses still dangling from his hand.

“What did I say,” he said slowly, deliberately, “about assigning me dancers?”

“Hm…you said not to.”

“Exactly.”

Chris didn’t flinch. Just tossed the folder onto the desk.

“L/N Y/N. We need her.”

“No,” Minho replied. “You need her. I need focus. I’m directing, blocking, choreographing - now you expect me to what? Babysit some TikTok dancer?”

“She’s not from ‘TikTok’ she’s from the Clé Atelier. Considering you studied there before opening District 9, I’d hope you’d take her abilities into consideration as a fellow alum.”

That made him pause.

Just barely. But it was there.

And Chris didn’t miss it.

“No. You put me in charge of Eros, and- Hyung, I’m forever grateful.” Minho leaned forward, elbows braced on the desk now, fingers steepled. His voice didn’t waver, but there was a tightness in it - like a note held too long on strained strings. “I’m grateful you had enough faith in me. You and the guys had faith in this after I…”

He bit the inside of his cheek.

Didn’t finish.

Didn’t need to.

After the fall. After the silence. After the lights went out and never quite came back on.

“I’m perfectly content choreographing for classes. For planning the shows. But I’ve long since given up on taking on mentees. You know that. And you agreed-”

“-She’s not like the others, Minho, though-” Chris interrupted.

He was already halfway across the office, patting at the pockets of his jacket, muttering something under his breath. His energy filled the room like static - sharp, unsettled.

“I’m serious-” he huffed, finally yanking his phone free. “She has raw talent. Not polish. Not discipline. But something that… FUCK, it moves people. It gets under the skin.”

Minho didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Chan’s thumb flicked across his screen.

“She’s not a flame,” he said, voice quieter now. “She’s a wildfire.”

A pause.

Then, cool and flat:

“Then control her.”

Chris stilled.

There was a silence then - a beat between beats.

“You’re the only one who can.”

That made Minho look up.

Just slightly.

Not a full tilt of the head. Just the smallest shift of the eyes. But it was enough. Chris saw it.

Saw the flicker.

And pressed at the opening.

“I’ve watched her rehearse. Just once. Back at Clé when she first started. Not a nepo baby like I had assumed but a street performer. Scouted from the streets literally! She was doing something completely wrong - tempo was off, timing a mess - but for some reason…” He exhaled a laugh that didn’t carry amusement. “I couldn’t look away. She could be the walk on of a century!"

“She doesn’t need me,” Minho muttered, turning his attention back to his work.

“You’re right she doesn’t need you. She needs direction. And you need someone who actually feels the work you’ve written. She has that.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?”

Minho’s jaw clenched.

Chris stepped closer, phone now unlocked, screen held out.

“I haven’t seen anyone like her before, Minho. Not in years.” His voice dropped, reverent now. “She could be you.”

And that was the line.

Minho didn’t raise his voice.

Didn’t break.

But his hand snapped up - not violently, not dramatic - just quick. Firm.

Didn’t break. But his hand snapped up - not violently, not dramatic - just quick. Firm. “Quiet.”

The word dropped heavy between them. Not loud - but weighted. Final.

Chris froze mid-sentence, lips parting like he might still push back. But then he saw it - the twitch in Minho’s jaw. The sharpness in his eyes.

He’d overstepped.

He knew it.

Still, the silence didn’t last long.

The door creaked open behind them. A too-casual voice filled the tension like smoke slipping under a doorway.

“Whoa. Vibes in here are spicy.”

Chris muttered, “Wrong time, Jisung…”

Still, the round cheeked boy strolled in like nothing was wrong, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, hair a mess, holding an iced coffee that was 90% syrup and 10% ice. His face was a sticky with sweat, presumably from the dance class he had just finished teaching. 

Minho didn’t look at him.

“Yikes.” Jisung stepped closer anyway, blinking between them as he took a long sip from his drink, the air crackling through the straw as he finished the sickeningly sweet substance.  “Like, should I come back in ten? Or do we need a neutral third party to stage a studio intervention?”

Minho turned sharply. “Out.”

But Jisung didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even blink.

Instead, he let the door fall shut behind him, the latch clicking softly as he plopped onto the loveseat in the office, immediately contorting his body so it was half hanging off as his two Hyungs stared each other down.

He looked at Chan first. Then Minho. Then back to Chris.

Then took a sip of his already gone drink, the obnoxious slurping noise the only thing cutting through the thick silence.

“Ohhh, I see. You’re mad because he gave you a dancer…”

Minho scoffed. “Plural.”

“Ah uh- a dancer. And a prodigy. There is a difference.” Jisung corrected, moving his hand with a flourish. “Double whammy because she is from Clé Atelier. And triple whammy because Channie-Hyung didn’t ask first.”

Still, silence.

“Which, okay - yeah,” Jisung said, nodding. “Dick move. Communication? Important. Respecting trauma boundaries? Super important, one might say.”

Minho’s stare was ice.

“But also- ”Jisung shifted, sitting upright and in the next moment he was stepping around the desk, voice softer now. “You told us not to let you lock yourself away forever. You made us promise that we wouldn’t let you rot.”

“I didn’t make you do anything,” Minho bit. “Didn’t make you promise anything.

“You didn’t have to,” Chris said quietly.

Minho’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“You trusted me with this,” he said, voice low, controlled. “That trust stems back to the opening of District Nine. Up until now with Eros. With the show. And now you want me to divide that focus- no, you expect me to- because she’s the next shiny thing lighting up the floor at Clé?”

“Well she is ours now. And she’s not shiny,” Jisung said. “She’s raw. And honestly, kind of feral.”

Chris cracked a half-smile. “She elbowed her partner in the face during a lift last season.”

“It was glorious,” Jisung added. “Guy had a god complex. Still has a crooked nose. She says it was completely accidental but rumor has it she did it on purpose.”

Minho stared.

Flat. Unamused. “You think that is helping your case?”

“Look,” Jisung continued, setting the coffee cup in the trash can. “You’re right. You didn’t ask for this. You told us no. And that meant something.”

Minho looked away, back to the folder on the desk.

L/N Y/N.

“But it’s been years, Minho.”

Jisung didn’t mean it as a challenge. Just a reminder. A quiet one.

Minho didn’t look at him. Didn’t look at Chris either. He just stared at the folder on the desk like it might open itself if he waited long enough.

L/N Y/N.

“You think time makes a difference?” he asked, voice low. Measured. “It doesn’t.”

Chris stepped forward, arms crossed. “It’s not about time. It’s about what you do with it.”

Minho let out a laugh - short, breathless, sharp.

“What I do with it? I’ve used it. Every damn second since the lights went out. You should know. We built this place from the nothing that came from my everything. Directed, choreographed, cleaned up every mess thrown at us. I’ve given you everything I have left, Hyung. Everything. And you think this is about time?”

“Minho-"

“I said NO!” Minho's voiced bounced off the walls of the room, causing the other two men to tense.

He took a breath. "I'm sorry, Hyung. I didn't mean to yell... but when the eight of us came together to make this a reality after...after..." Minho squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "This was my one request. And I'm asking that you respect it. My answer is no."

The word cracked through the space, not loud but final. He pushed away from the desk and stood, the chair legs screeching against the floor. “I’m not here to be a savior. I’m not here to hold someone’s hand through their ‘potential.’ I don’t take mentees. I don’t want them. That’s not what I do anymore.”

The last word had an edge - like it was cut from somewhere deep.

Chris didn’t respond. The silence that followed was brittle.

Then Jisung spoke. Quiet. Careful. Almost like he wished he could pull the words back.

“She’s not Hanuel.”

Minho’s head turned. Slowly. Precisely.

His face didn’t change, but something in the room did - the air pulling tight, the light seeming too bright.

“Don’t.” His voice was low, steady, dangerous. “Don’t make this about her.”

“I’m not,” Jisung said softly. “But you are.”

The words hung there - and you could see it, the smallest twitch in Minho’s jaw, the faint flare of his nostrils, the way his shoulders pulled in like he was bracing for impact.

Chris looked at Jisung, his eyes widened slightly. "Minho I'm sure he didn't-"

Minho’s gaze dropped to the folder on the desk. He didn’t reach for it. Instead, he stood there, breathing slow, as if every inhale cost him.

"You're right. She's not Haneul. Nor will she ever be her."

When he finally moved, it was sudden - the folder snatched up with a snap of paper, his knuckles white around it.

No yes. No agreement. Not even a glance back.

He just strode to the door, steps clipped and certain, and shoved it open hard enough for the hinges to groan. Before stepping out he tossed the folder into the trash can by the door, before it slammed shut behind him, leaving the office too quiet.

Jisung let out a slow breath. “Guess that’s a no.” He shook the ice absentmindedly in his cup. "Do you think I went too far?"

Chris didn’t answer. He was still looking at the door - like he knew it wasn’t just about saying no.

It was about so much more.

Mark Through Stray Kids Masterlist

perm tag list: @abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @staytinyarmy @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy @lezleeferguson-120 @enhacolor @madirye062 @kpopgirliez @elizais @channieschocco

series specific: @leenaur @st4rv3lly @changbinqueencard

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hii loved the pt 3 of clingy series 💖 can you pleasee write the trip of lee know?? 👀

I know this request is pretty old but I have many that I still want to do and have saved even if its been a minute. So sorry it took so long to release it but I hope this is of your taste!!

If you haven't read the "When You Call Them Clingy Series" I'd suggest reading Minho's parts before, as this is a bonus :)

The flight was in three hours, but Minho was acting like you were behind by that much.

"Did you pack your sweater?" "Min-" "And the charger?" "Yes-" "What about your-" You grabbed his face mid-sentence, squishing his cheeks until his lips puckered. "If you keep asking, I’m going to purposely leave something just so you can suffer in silence."

His eyes narrowed playfully, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed your wrist, kissed your palm, and muttered, “You’re lucky I love you.”

You didn’t know where you were going until you got to the airport and he handed you your boarding pass.

“Jeju?” you gasped.

Minho smirked, clearly proud of himself. “I told you it was special. And the weather’s perfect right now.”

The moment you landed, you understood why he’d been so determined to make this trip happen. The salty breeze, the sound of waves, the way the air felt lighter - it was exactly what you needed.

He took you everywhere. Little seaside cafés where the foam in your coffee was shaped like hearts, a quiet hiking trail that ended with a cliffside view so stunning you had to sit down just to take it in, and a cat café (of course) where he spent half the time showing the barista pictures of Soonie, Doongie, and Dori like a proud parent.

The days in Jeju flew by.

But the last night felt different.

Minho had been glued to your side all day - not that this was unusual, but there was something in the way he held your hand, in the way his eyes lingered on you when you weren’t looking.

When he told you to “dress up a little,” you rolled your eyes but played along. He led you to a quiet cliffside restaurant that looked like it had been pulled straight from a postcard - dim golden light spilling across the tables, the ocean stretching endlessly below.

He was attentive as always, cutting little bites of food for you, sneaking pieces of his onto your plate when he thought you weren’t looking. But the whole time, he was fidgety. His foot tapping, his gaze flicking toward the balcony outside, sneaking glances at his phone and rapid firing texts in between.

Dessert came and went. He barely touched his.

“Come outside with me.” he said suddenly, standing and offering you his hand. His palm was warm, almost sweaty.

The night air wrapped around you the moment you stepped onto the balcony. The waves far below crashed against the rocks, sending sprays of white foam into the dark.

You were about to comment on the view when Minho spoke - his voice quieter than usual.

“You know… I was thinking about the fight we had.”

Your chest tightened. “Min...”

“Let me finish...please..." He turned to face you fully, his fingers tightening around yours as he swallowed. “When you called me clingy, it felt like my world collapsed. I kept wondering if I’d been… too much for you. If maybe the way I love you was more annoying than comforting.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he kept going.

“I’m not used to doing all the mushy stuff. Honestly, I used to hate it. But then you came along, and suddenly…" He took a shaky breath and looked away. "Suddenly, not telling you every single thought I had about you felt wrong. Not holding you every chance I got felt wrong. Not showering you with every ounce of love I have felt criminal. And when you pulled away, it was like…” His voice wavered. “Like I’d lost something I didn’t know how to get back. Like I questioned if I was doing this whole love thing right even.”

Your throat ached. “Minho…” You whispered.

He stepped closer, so close your foreheads almost touched. “I realized something, though. Even if I am too much sometimes, I’d rather be too much for you than not enough. I’d rather overwhelm you with love than risk you ever doubting you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Then, without breaking eye contact, he let go of your hand…only to take your left one again - the one he’d been brushing all week - and slowly drop to one knee.

Your breath caught. “Minho-”

He smirked faintly, but there was a tremor in it. “You think I was playing with your finger just to tease? No. I was checking the fit. I’ve been carrying this around for weeks.” He sniffed and wiped away the tears you hadn't even noticed he shed, his eyes rimmed red.

He pulled out a small velvet box and opened it. The ring sparkled under the faint glow from the restaurant lights and the moon above.

“I love you when you’re laughing, I love you when you’re crying, I love you when you’re stubborn and impossible and making me want to scream. I love you so much that it physically hurts sometimes, and I don’t ever want to know what it’s like to live without you. So please…” He swallowed, his voice rough now. "Let me love you like this for the rest of our lives. Let me be yours...” He wiped his tears again, his voice shaking. "Please let me have the honor of being your husband. The honor of calling you my wife. Please let me live the rest of my life with you by my side. I may be clingy but I'm also selfish Y/N-ah." His voice broke as he smiled up at you. "And I only want you."

Tears streamed down your cheeks before you even realized you were crying. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Then louder, firmer, “Yes.”

His lips twitched upward in relief and joy all at once. He slid the ring onto your finger slowly, almost reverently, then rose to pull you into him. His kiss was warm, sure, and lingering - the kind that didn’t just say I love you, but you are my home.

You kissed at each of his tears, giggling in between, your heart overflowing with joy.

When you finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against yours, and his smile turned soft. “Now you’re stuck with me forever.”

You laughed through your tears. “I think I can survive that.”

He grinned, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “No, jagiya… you’re going to love it.”

And with the ocean crashing beneath you, the ring warm against your skin, and Minho holding you like he’d never let go, you knew he was right - because you already did.

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @staytinyarmy @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy @lezleeferguson-120 @enhacolor @madirye062 @kpopgirliez @elizais @channieschocco

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hey ! I hope you are welll ? I’m sorry to bother you with this, but I wanted to know if you ever wrote a Part 2 for “when you give them space “ ? I couldn’t find it on your masterlist, but it might be a me issue 🫣

You’re never a bother!! And it’s not your fault at all 😭 it’s definitely a me issue I got sloppy when it came to the Masterlist at some point because I was so motivated to put out fics that I forgot organizing them is a necessity 😅.

On the original fic- if the one you’re referring to is the SMAU - I believe there is a link for part two, in the part one, but just in case (because knowing myself I very much could have forgotten to put it on there 😅) I spent a bit of time today at the beginning of my blog all the way up until now making sure every fic is on the Masterlist. Part 2 should be under the OT8 section of the masterlist :)!!!

Which speaking of- due to like embedded link capacity or whatever causes the errors when posting I’ve split up the Masterlists now!

Each member will have their own Masterlist, plus OT8, ‘Rachas, and a 9th member Masterlist since people seem to enjoy the 9th member stories :)!! This was the best way I could find to stay under the limit to be able to post the lists!

Sorry for the whole rant lol!! But thank you so much for all the support!!!

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝟿th mᥱmbᥱr mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

» Ninth Member Hate » When Your Love is too Much Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 » Fight with SKZ » 9th Member Protectiveness

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

ot𝟾 mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

⚝ OT8 Oneshots/Reactions » OT8 College Dating Scenarios » OT8 Camping Vlog » Silent Treatment » When Their S/O is the Quiet Type » When Paparazzi Gets Too Rough » Reacting to A New Piercing » OT8 Sleeping Habit » Reaction to your Spotify Wrapped » Texting him: I think I want to break up Chan Minho Changbin Hyunjin Jisung Felix Seungmin Jeongin » When Paparazzi Catches Your Relationship » When You Dodge Their Kiss

⚝ OT8 Series » When You Give Them Space Chan| Minho Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 » Where you belong Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 » SKZ as imaginary friends Changbin Jeongin

⚝ Hyungline » When they call you clingy- Pt1, Pt2, Pt3 » When YOU call them clingy Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Minho Bonus » When they are drunk » When They Accidentally Bring Up and Insecurity Chan Minho Changbin Hyunjin » Their First Kiss With You - Chan|Minho Changbin|Hyunjin » When You Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity ---- Hyungline Pt1 Pt2 » When You Have a Toxic Mother

⚝ Maknaeline ⤷ When they call you clingy Pt1, Pt2, Pt3 » When they are drunk » When They Accidentally Bring Up and Insecurity Felix Seungmin P1 Pt2 Pt3 Bonus Jeongin » Their First Kiss With You Jisung|Felix Seungmin|Jeongin » When You Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity Maknaeline Pt1 Pt2 ⚝ 3Racha » When their blind date has Tourettes syndrome

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

'rᥲᥴhᥲ mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

⚝ 3 » When their blind date has Tourettes syndrome

⚝Dance

⚝Vocal

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

jᥱoᥒgιᥒᥒ mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

» Fox in The Snow » When You Need Me Most Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 » Innie Birthday Drabble » When He Pulls Away From Physical Touch

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

sᥱυᥒgmιᥒ mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

» Puppy » Case 143 »Midas Touch »Number One Girl

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

fᥱᥣιx mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

» Sunflower Summer Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 » Pancakes » Passacagalia » Chill

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

jιsυᥒg mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

» Hoodies » Here With Me » Jealousy » Redamancy Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Epilogue » P.S. Do You Still Love Me Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Bonus

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

hყυᥒjιᥒ mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

» Never Say Never Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 » Always Enough » Yellow Hyacinths » Versace Prince

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

ᥴhᥲᥒgbιᥒ mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

» Lost In Translation Pt1 » Forever and More » When He Snaps Before Tour » Hoodie

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

mιᥒho mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @ρᥒυtbυttᥱr-ᥒ-j-ᥱᥣყყ

» Cuts & Bruises » Put Your Head On My Shoulder » Depressed GF » All of the Lights Teaser Pt1