#Stray kids fluff

[godslino]

HARD LAUNCH | minho drabble. established relationship.

“Do you guys have french fries?”

“Minho.” you hiss, nudging his shin beneath the table.

He cocks an eyebrow before turning back to the waitress. She smiles softly, laughing at the two of you. 

“We do, yes.” 

“Wonderful,” Minho grins, “We’ll have a side order of those too.”

“Perfect. I’ll put that in for you guys and check back soon.” The waitress says happily, collecting the menus and scurrying off to tend to another table.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you groan, covering your face with your hands. 

“Why would you do that?” 

Minho chuckles, shakes his head probably. You wouldn’t know since you can’t see him.

“Do what?”

Still using one hand to cover your eyes, you pull the other away, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. “I told you I’d be fine. Why’d you have to ask for french fries? That’s so embarrassing.”

Minho hums. Unbothered. “You know what’s worse?”

“Literally nothing.” you mumble, returning your other hand to your face. It only serves to muffle your voice more. “This is humiliating. We’re in a nice restaurant and you ordered french fries because of me. Oh God. I’m going to hide in the bathroom.”

A good choice, you think. Minho’s in god damn slacks for crying out loud. Every second that passes is another second that your pity order of french fries is probably spending in the deep fryer, right next to the lobster tail and shrimp tartar that everyone else has a mature enough palate to eat. 

Before you can move to get up and make a beeline for the toilet, you feel Minho’s fingers wrap around your wrists, pulling until your hands give way to your face. You crack one eye open and then the other, his amused expression coming into view.

“What’s worse than ordering french fries is me knowing you’ll be hungry if there isn’t something familiar for you on the table.” he says pointedly, like your reason for feeling embarrassed is unnecessary. “Besides, who said I didn’t want any?”

“Min, look around,” you say, turning your head to glance at the room, “The napkins are cloth. Cloth! Nicer than my bed sheets. We can’t be seen eating french fries in a place like this. I told you I’d be—”

“—fine. Because as long as you’re here I can do anything.” Minho recites, word for word, cutting you off. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks immediately, spreads like wildfire when Minho smiles and leans on to his forearms. His button up tightens over his shoulders, hugs his arms, sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

“Just like how you’re doing this for me, let me do something for you.” 

You and Minho have been seeing each other for four months now, but even at that, you’re still not used to his straightforwardness. 

Seeing Minho has been nothing short of a dream. What started as just interacting at parties because of mutual friends eventually gave way to him asking for your number, and then hanging out separate from your friend group, until one day he plucked up the courage to ask you out. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable, always spending every free moment together. Laughing, talking, even sometimes just existing in the same space. It’s nice. So, so nice.

“Shouldn’t I be the one blushing right now?” Minho teases.

“Shut up.” you say, tearing your gaze away from him.

He laughs again before reaching out and placing a hand on top of yours. Soft. Minho is unbelievably soft.

It’s the thing you love the most about him. But more than that, more than the delicate skin of his fingers or the brush of his lips against yours, you love the softness of his eyes.

Minho is hard to crack, his emotions shrouded most of the time. Not that he wants to be, but because that’s just how he operates, or so you’ve learned. 

But despite all of that, his eyes are a dead giveaway. When he’s looking at pictures of his cats, or staring at you from across the room, or right now as steaming plates of some of the finest cuisine Seoul has to offer are being placed in front of him.

“Holy shit.” he whispers, staring in awe as the waitress walks away from the table.

“Is it rude for me to take a picture? Like, would anyone get offended?” 

Minho scoffs. “Babe, I would be offended if you didn’t document this right now.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, pulling out your phone.

“Do I get to be in it this time?”

You look up to find Minho pouting across the table. Another thing about your relationship— nobody knows yet. 

You’ve been teasing about the possibility of a boyfriend for two months now, you and Minho only having made it official about a few weeks ago. The most anyone has been able to see are carefully positioned photos where only his hand or other inconspicuous parts of him are visible.

It’s not that you don’t want people to know. It’s just hard with his job and all. Privacy reasons.

"For someone who likes to claim that people won't give me a hard time because of your fame you sure do seem eager to test that theory."

Minho smiles mischievously. “Well, yes. But I’m also waiting because I want to show you off.”

You busy yourself with opening your camera app to stop the heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. You big flirt.”

Minho laughs but obliges, scoots back to let you get a good few pictures of the food. 

Photos aren’t enough to do it justice, though. So you opt for a video, scanning the table with your camera, only the bottom half of his torso visible across the table. A silk white button up only three-fourths of the way buttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

Minho watches silently, his face unreadable. And then, at the last second, he dips his head down so fast you don’t even realize what’s happening until his face is fully in the shot, a shit-eating grin pushing his eyes into crescent moons.

“Min!” you laugh, ending the recording. 

He chuckles, straightening back out. “Post it.”

“Are you insane?”

“No, but I’m going to be if you don’t post it and then eat with me.” He nudges the plate of french fries towards you. “Come on.”

“You really want me to post it? You’re sure?”

Minho smiles. Soft. “Never been more sure about anything in my life.” he says, neither of you willing to address the weight of his words.

He grabs your hand, plants a kiss on the back of your knuckles. The resulting flip of your stomach is enough to give you the courage to hit post and tuck your phone away.

Whatever happens, you’ll deal with it later. Together.

[ tags: @102598s @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @palindrome969 @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @astronomicallyyy @doohnut @linocz @romancerry @djeniryuu @pinkpunkdynamite @pynchkilledme @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @liknws @beeracha @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[scarlettslino]

lee know for met gala 2024 🤍

[giddyfatherchris]

📱skz texts — random texts with lee know

warnings. curse words? mentions of brutally killing someone LOL but its in a comedic way, not at all intended frl

a/n. here is lee know’s babiieeeessss, i loved writing him teehee. also a special thank you to @httpdwaekki for giving me ideas for the first two ideas hehe love u bubs <3 hope you enjoy!!!!

han, felix, seungmin, i.n

01. you vent about a work situation

02. he’s grumpy because he can’t get a move right

03. he texts you before going on stage

04. he texts you while you’re sleeping

[astralis-ortus]

sunday, sunday, sunday

✱ husband!bc × fem!reader

— now, and every sundays to ever come. i want to spend them all with you.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, fluff, fluff. just tooth rotting fluff. warnings → very minor cussing (just once)(atp cussing is a given lol), kissing, time jump (twice), chan referred to as chris a.n → blame the man for putting the idea in my head like what can i do??? his insta post??? hello??? not to mention his song recommendation while i was writing this??? laufey's like the movies??? what??? he wants me dead atp<////3

it’s sunday.

to be fair, it has been sunday since the moment chris’ eyes flew open a few hours ago. it’s sunday when he got ready, it’s sunday when he got his light makeup and hair settled, it is sunday when he finally wore the crisp tailored suit that has been turning his heart into the loudest marching band ensemble he’d ever known.

but to be fair,

it’s not just any sunday.

“bring those shoulders down, hyung. you’re gonna get cramps at this point.”

“oh shut up,” chris groaned, feeling more embarrassed about the fact that he got caught more than the fact that his nerves are firing non-stop at an untraceable rate. “just take the pictures, felix.”

albeit rolling his eyes at chris’ rather feisty comment, it was proven impossible to wipe the cheeky grin off the younger’s clearly ecstatic face. after all, it’s a monumental day in chris’ life—and he’s very honored the older trusted his (and technically hyunjin’s) skills to capture the day’s earlier moments.

“see? that’s already all better,” felix cheerily quipped, snapping several pictures as soon as he caught a glimpse of chris fixing his posture. besides, a little movement here and there does make the picture come out a lot more natural, which was the one thing you repeatedly told him (and hyunjin) as something you wanted to see most in the final cuts.

you.

the mere thought of you was enough to melt the remaining stillness present in chris’ face.

it has been a wild few months; meetings after meetings, fittings after fittings, testing, changes in plans, some other minor revisions, checklist, checklist, checklist. chris was justifiably spent, and so were you. there were arguments (you refused to call them fights, knock on wood), there were a couple of shed tears (out of frustration, of course), there were a few hours of leaving each other on read (justifiably so, considering both of you are quite the stubborn pair), but there were also a lot of make-up dates, plenty of exchanged giggles of excitement, and bountiful of prayers for the days to come.

those days have been wild, and this sunday will begin to prove that every second of it was worthwhile.

“chris hyung!”

woken up from his trance, the glint on chris’ eyes finally returned as he found hyunjin’s head peeking from inside the room—the one he’d been waiting on for the past 10 minutes while his head was busy creating bits and pieces for his life montage.

“ready to see your bride?” asked the younger, grin replicating the ones felix is sporting behind his lenses.

am i ready?

palms running over the fabric of his carefully crafted suit, ones you finally chose after debating over a dozen others you deem was ‘not grand enough for someone about to spend the rest of my life with’, chris took one final breath.

“ready.”

it’s sunday.

it’s been exactly a week since your wedding day, and you finally got your hand on the stack of developed pictures courtesy to your now-husband’s talented teammates. originally, you wanted to take part in picking the films, but the duo was pretty convincing when they said waiting for their pick would make a good little surprise to enjoy on your honeymoon trip.

“come on,” chris beckoned, curls framing his beautiful face while his hand motioned to the empty spot next to him on the bed; one you just left after a call from the front desk informing you about the tiny package under your husband’s name. “let’s see how hyunjin did at taking your pictures.”

“and felix at yours,” you added with a grin, swiftly claiming your throne while your fingers were busy ripping open the brown envelope. “i want to see my husband as much as you wanted to see your wife, you know. not to mention, that suit was absolutely perfect on you.”

“not again,” his defeated giggles has been chris’ way to answer to your every compliment on his look since the day of your wedding. “you need to stop that before my head blows up to the size of a hot air balloon, my love.”

“well,” you shrugged, finally getting your hand on the stack of pictures before then snuggling right into the warmth of chris’ arms, “have you ever thought about trying not to be so hot all the da-“

and of course, stealing kisses has also been his alternative should you continue to run your mouth and try to turn him into a blushing mess.

as if that’s not exactly the reason why you kept up with the praises.

“can we start looking at the pictures,” he muttered over your lips, evidently smiling as his lips brushed against yours, “or do i still need to shut you up?”

you hummed, letting the warmth of his skin hover over your face before your lips captured his in a quick peck, “pictures. need to see my cool husband.”

the way his laugh reverberates against his chest never fails to warm you up.

“okay, picture it is then.”

it’s sunday.

you didn’t expect moving to be this hard—sure, you’ve been living together with chris even before you two got married, but had you really been accumulating that many stuffs?

“fuck—i think it’s not the right screw,” your husband’s mutters forces your line of sight to gravitate towards his hunched figure, still hovering over the half-built shelf on the floor of your living room.

“you reckon it should still stick out this much?” he questioned, beckoning you to look at the silver piece, sticking out like a sore thumb. “no, right?”

“think not,” you huffed, crouching next to chris to look at the scattered pieces around him, “was this all? did they send the wrong one?”

chris groaned in defeat, deciding to lean onto your warmth instead of voicing his answer. maybe building your own furniture was not exactly a good idea to spend your first weekend home after your honeymoon trip.

treading your fingers through his soft curls, you then came up with a suggestion, “i’ll get you a pineapple juice then we’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

and it sure perked him right up.

looking at you with sparkles lighting up in his eyes, it felt right—it felt like even through the worst sundays, chris would still be the there to welcome you home.

“thank you,” he grinned—the boyish kind. the one that made you feel like a swarm of butterflies, one that gets you blushing like a schoolgirl in front of her first ever crush. his lips then found its home on the bare of your thigh, printing a quick kiss on the surface, “you’re the best.”

“mm, i know,” you answered with a giggle, feeling the warmth breaking through your skin before returning the kiss on his plump lips while feigning ignorance to the way your heartbeat grew louder by the second.

“you’re still the bestest of the best, though. can’t beat you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[justwonder113]

Hi! I came across your blog and I literally had a reading marathon! The way you write is just *chefs kiss*

can I request female reader x han, where you’re in his room doing each others makeup and you end up kissing and teasing each other and making a mess with the makeup, then a member walks in on you straddling his lap but nonethless they’re met with such a cute sight 😌

Aww I can not simply describe how much it means to me that you like my writing. Thank you so much for reading my work and requesting such an adorable fic idea!!!! I loved writing every second of it and I really hope it is what you had in mind and that you will like it.

Warnings: I don't think there's any? Please tell me if I missed anything Reader being whipped and showering Hannie with affection. Not proofread.

Masterlist

Soulmate- a close friend or romantic partner with whom one has a unique deep connection based on mutual understanding and acceptance. Well it is how meeriam webster's dictionary describes it. But it it so much more it can not simply be described by words. The Greek philosopher Plato wrote that humans once had four arms, four legs and two faces. He explained that Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half. Some people spend their entire lives searching for their soulmate. Some people have the pleasure of finding their other half, some don't. Some of them are so skeptical they give up on the whole idea of it.

You were always curios about who would capture your heart and who would be the one who made you feel so complete and full of love that you could call them your soulmate. You have always wondered how you would find out that they, they are the one, that's my soulmate. That's who I want to bond my life if.

Never in your wildest dreams would you imagine that you would realize you've found your soulmate, in the middle of the night, with your room dimly lit and music softly playing in the backround, laid across your bed trying to hold in your giggles as your boyfriend, the chaos incarnate, aka Han Jisung is trying to to put makeup on your face. This whole situation is ridiculous but you've never felt more at peace. You're sure now. This is the one you want to spend your life with. This boy who managed to capture your heart with his boba eyes and gummy smile is your soulmate. To think that you would realize this in such a ridiculous moment like this.

You don't need a mirror to know what you look ridiculous. You knew both of you would end up looking like circus clowns before you even took your makeup brushes out. That's why you went all out on his face and my god did he look ridiculous. But hey, you were also ridiculous, because looking at him, all dishelmed and with caked on makeup, messy hair and mischevious glint in his sparkly eyes, prettiest smile on his face as he proudly gazes at his own art, you have never been more in love.

"We need to even out the lipstick now." He looks away for a second and that's when you seize your chance. With one swift movement you switch your place with him. Han lookes up to you with wide eyes, clearly not expecting you to overpower him. "Wow this was really hot not going to lie!" He breaths out after a second, you can't help but roll your eyes.

"What a dork." You lean in and seal your lips together. You feel like you're overflown with love and all you want is to show him just how much you love him. You place gentle but firm kisses against lips, absolutely loving how he immediately responds to each and every one of them makeup long forgotten. You love how tightly he's holding onto your lips and how he chases after your lips when you lean back to let both of you breathe.

Sometimes you really can't believe that he's actually yours. You always get so owerwhelmed with love all you want to do is to shower him all the affection. And that's what you're set on to do. Feeling satisfied on the amount of kisses you left on his lips you decide to migrate them a little. Softly cradling his chubby cheeks you migrate your lips to his chin, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, everywhere you can reach. You want him to know just how precious he is to you. God you feel like you're under some type of love spell. You just can't stop kissing him.

And how can you when he looks so delicious? You could eat him up if you could. His hair is even more messy, his whole face is covered in your makeup and you can swear that red has never looked more better on anyone. His breathing is a little bit rugged, his skin is all flushed, which is apparent even under all that makeup, he has this lovesick smile while his eyes look a bit dazed while still shining like the brightest star for you. Does he even realize what he does to you?

"What brought this on?" He asks after he finally catches his breath. He leans up a bit so now you're in his lap, his arms tight around your waist.

A smile creeps up on your face, you gently move the hair out of his forehead and leave a little kiss there, smiling even more at the imprint of your lipstick on the center of his forehead. Just how much lipstick did he actually put on your lips?

"You make me believe in soulmates." Han looks surprised at fist, then unsure how to react before the brightest smile creeps up on his face. Suddenly your positions are switched yet again and you're on the bed while Han is the one covering your face with millions of kisses while muttering between each and every one of them just how much he loves you.

Unbeknownst to you, while you're all lovely dovely Chan had opened the door to Han's bedroom wanting to ask him something, let's just say there's this video going around in your friend group now where you look like two idiots in love. You wanted to die of shame when you saw it the first time, but upon closer inspecting it, the way you two looked at each other... You really found your soulmate.

[cheeseceli]

Fri(end)s

Pairing: Lee Know × Gn!reader

Genre: headcanons, fluff, angst

Prompt: "but friends don't say words that make friends feel like more than just friends, so let's just put the 'end' in friends"

Warnings: a little bit of insecurity, nothing more

A/n: this might be V's best song I fear | join the 1k event !

Friend (?) Lee Know who just really likes physical touch whenever he's around you

Friend (?) Lee Know who is always texting you, ignoring all the 6492649 unread messages his members sent him

Friend (?) Lee Know who insists he doesn't need to go on dates and stuff, however he never denied whether he wanted a partner or not

Friend (?) Lee Know who thinks "you can do better" whenever you showed him a picture of your current crush

Certainly more than a friend Lee Know who always has sleepovers with you, which constantly end up with you and him peacefully cuddling each other to sleep

Certainly more than a friend Lee Know who apparently talked about you to his mother, considering she now has your number and treats you like her own daughter

Certainly more than a friend Lee Know who is always looking at you even when you're on the other side of the room

Certainly more than a friend Lee Know who is tired of being just friends, but he'd rather have you like this than not having you at all

... Friend Lee Know who tries to distance himself once he sees he really can't hide his feelings

... Friend Lee Know who has no idea of how much you're missing him right now

... Friend Lee Know who is pushed up against the wall by you because you really want to know what on earth is going on

Not a friend Lee Know who finally admits he loves likes you on an impulse

Not a friend Lee Know who thinks he screwed up when he sees you speechless

Not a friend Lee Know who is already planning his apology but never actually uses it considering he forgot it all the moment you kissed him

Finally not a friend (!) Lee Know who is a bit confused, but doesn't hesitate on kissing you back

Finally not a friend (!) Lee Know who giggles after the kiss

Boyfriend Lee Know who gets teased by his members for the rest of his life because what took him so long??

Boyfriend Lee Know who was able to put the "end" in "friends" at the same time he got to date his best friend

Masterlist | you'll probably like: scared?

Thank you for reading 🩷

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143

Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

[yxngbxkkie]

secret secret (b.c)

hello :) i've been thinking about frat!chris for a while, and i finally had enough motivation to write this idea!! i do hope you like it! 🩷🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

“Thanks for coming again,” Yeji tells you while handing you a mixed drink. She smiles at you as you grab a hold of the cup, and you shrug your shoulders.

“It's the least I can do, Yej. It's our last semester, so I might as well attend one frat party, hm?” You ask her with a giggle, taking a sip of the drink.

She laughs with you as she drinks from her cup as well. The vibrations of the music echo off the walls, and you can feel it from within you. Your eyes look around the dimly lit room, barely able to make out other students' faces.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see Chris, the President of the Frat you're in. You can feel your cheeks flush, and you quickly tear your gaze away from him, not wanting him to catch you looking at him.

“I heard he's single again,” Yeji informs you, her arm nudging yours.

“Who?” You ask, knowing exactly who she's talking about.

She gives you a look before motioning towards Chris. “The guy you've been in love with for a year,” she tells you with a laugh, draping an arm over your shoulder.

Your heart hammers in your chest, baffled that she's aware of your feelings for Chris. You grow embarrassed and gulp down some of your drink. “I'm not in love with him,” you mutter, lying through your teeth.

Chris Bang is different from other students. He's extremely kind, respectful, and caring. The first time you talked to him, you didn't expect him to be so nice to you.

The two of you are in the same major, so you've worked together. He was your partner for a project a few semesters ago. Those are the only times you hung out with him. You've never hung out with him outside of the school grounds.

“There's no way he'd ever go for me,” you shake your head, looking at the liquid in your plastic cup.

Yeji rolls her eyes playfully. “You don't know that!” She tells you, smacking your arm gently. “You should try talking to him tonight.”

“I'll think about it,” you tell her, knowing she'll keep pestering you if you decline.

She pats your back as you finish your cup. You mention quickly that you'll be back, walking towards the kitchen to remake your drink.

You set your cup down as you look through the selection of liquor. A pair of hands rest on your shoulders, making you jump in your spot. You look over your shoulder, seeing Minho standing behind you with a smile.

“I never thought I'd see you here,” he chuckles before hugging you.

You hug him for a few seconds before looking back at the alcohol. “As I told Yeji, it's our last semester,” you repeat your words while smiling at him.

Minho nods his head and grabs one of the bottles. “Well, let's celebrate with a shot, hm?” He asks with a grin.

“Ah, okay,” you agree hesitantly, knowing you're a complete lightweight.

You watch him as he fills up two shot glasses, passing one of them to you. You pick it up and clink the glasses together. You down the shot in one gulp, squeezing your eyes shut at the taste.

“Oh, God,” you cringe, your upper body shivering. “That's horrible.”

Minho laughs as he sets the glasses in the sink. He pats your back afterward, and you go back to making a drink. “How's the dance classes going?” You ask while grabbing the ingredients to make a screwdriver.

“It's going well! Did Yeji tell you that we're doing our final together?” He mentions, watching you pour the various liquids in your cup.

“She did! She told me that she's really excited about it,” you giggle, already feeling the effects of the liquor. You stir your drink before taking a sip, humming in delight.

“She is. We both are. The dance style we got is one of our favorites,” Minho explains, making his own drink.

Before you have the chance to say anything else, Yeji and Chris walk up to the both of you. Your eyes widen a smidge, and you straighten your posture.

“Hey, Y/N! Yeji told me you were here,” Chris mentions with a kind smile, bringing you into a quick hug.

Your heart pounds against your chest as you hug him, wrapping your free arm around his shoulder. “Hey, Chris. It's been a while,” you greet him with a shy smile, taking a sip of liquid courage after.

Yeji grabs a hold of Minho's arm, tugging him away from you and Chris. You can see her give you a thumbs up from behind the man standing in front of you.

You swear that you're going to lock her out of the dorm later on. “Y/N?” Chris calls out your name, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Hm? I'm sorry,” you apologize, getting embarrassed.

He smiles at you and shakes his head. “It's okay. I asked how you've been,” Chris repeats himself, moving to the fridge to grab himself some water.

“You're not drinking?” You ask him with furrowed brows.

“No, I don't really like drinking,” he laughs before drinking from the bottle of water.

You hum, a little bit surprised as you drink some more. Silence fills the space between the two of you, and you begin to feel a little awkward.

“I'm going to check on the other guests. If I run into you again, let's talk some more,” Chris pats your arm gently before walking away from you.

You didn't even say anything, and as soon as he's out of sight, you cringe. “Can I be any more awkward?” You ask yourself, chugging the rest of your drink.

Chris finds you again a couple of hours later, and you're piss drunk. After he greets you, his hands find a place on your waist to keep you steady.

“Hi, Chris,” you giggle, leaning in closer to him.

He doesn't know how to feel. He's never seen this side of you, only talking to you about school most of the time. Chris’ heart skips a beat in his chest as you almost stumble over.

“Okay, it's time to get some rest,” he mentions, looking around for Yeji. His eyes find Minho, remembering that he was with Yeji earlier.

Chris helps you sit on the couch, your head leaning against the back of it. “I'll be right back, okay?” He asks you, holding your hand to keep your attention.

You nod your head, squeezing his hand in yours. “Okay,” you whisper before closing your eyes.

He walks up to Minho, patting his back. “Hey, do you know where Yeji is? Y/N's pretty drunk,” he informs him, taking a quick glance back at you.

“Shit, already?” Minho asks, looking in the direction Chris was looking. He winces in guilt at the sight of you, knowing how weak your tolerance is. “Yeji is linking up with someone. Could you take her home? I'll let Yeji know as soon as she's done.”

Chris bites on his bottom lip, not knowing how to feel about the situation. He doesn't know you that well, and he doesn't want to come off the wrong way.

“I trust you to get her home safely, Chris,” Minho interrupts his thoughts, snapping him from his daze.

“Okay, yeah. Text me her address,” he agrees while starting to walk back towards you. He gently reaches his hand out to you, nudging your hand. “Y/N, hey.”

You slowly open your eyes, blinking the fogginess away. You can still feel the effects of the alcohol. “Hi, Chris,” you giggle, smiling at him.

He smiles back at you, finding your intoxicated self to be quite adorable. “I'm going to take you home, okay?” He mentions while grabbing your hand, helping you up from the couch.

Your body gets pressed to his chest as Chris keeps you steady. “Sorry, I'm all over the place,” you slur your words, clutching onto the flannel he's wearing.

“You're okay,” he chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist.

It takes Chris almost half an hour to get you out of the frat house and back to your apartment. Your body collides with your mattress, a groan leaving your lips at the comfy feeling.

You look around for Chris, seeing him standing by your dresser. “You don't need to do anything else,” you tell him, making him jump at the sudden noise.

A groan comes from your lips as you sit yourself up. “Are you sure? I don't know if sleeping in that will be comfortable,” he mentions, taking a few steps closer to you.

“I'll be okay, Chris,” you giggle. You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Thank you for bringing me home. You're so… sweet.”

“It's not a problem, Y/N. I wanted to make sure that you got home safely,” Chris exclaims while squeezing your hand.

You stare up at him, and your heart pounds against your chest. “I– I'm in love with you,” you stutter over your words, feeling your face flush. “You're so perfect.”

Chris stares at you with wide eyes, your hand slipping from his. You slowly lay on your side, your eyes drooping shut as sleep takes over your drunken body.

“Y/N?” He asks, nudging your arm a bit. He releases a huff of breath and helps you lay in bed normally. Chris pulls the covers of your body, making sure you're completely covered before walking out of your apartment.

~

Chris sits with Jisung and Changbin, the two chatting about how they want their first demo to go. He's not paying attention to what either of them are saying, his eyes glued to your figure walking across the campus food court.

It's been three months since he brought you home from the party he threw. Three months since you drunkenly confessed that you're in love with him. Ever since then, he's been seeing you in a light he's never seen before.

You're gorgeous, stunning, actually. A part of him is shocked that you don't have people going after you. Chris’ eyes don't leave you for one second as you sit at a table with Yeji and Minho.

His breath hitches in his throat when you suddenly meet his gaze. You smile at him and he returns his before looking away from you.

“You're so obvious, did y'know that?” Changbin laughs, sipping from his coffee after.

“What are you talking about?” Chris asks, resting his chin against the palm of his hand.

Jisung nudges his arm, intervening, “you've been staring at someone for a while.” Changbin nods his head, agreeing with what Jisung said.

He rolls his eyes, dismissing what his friends are telling him. Jisung looks past Changbin, trying to pinpoint who Chris was intensely staring at. When the younger man finds your figure sitting with Minho, his boba eyes widen.

“Is that Y/N?!” Jisung asks him, whispering so no one around can hear. Chris just nods his head in answer, a gasp leaving Jisung’s lips.

“Woah, okay,” Changbin interrupts, holding his hands up a smidge. “You have to explain. Y/N’s the girl from our music production class a few semesters ago?”

The oldest out of the trio nods his head once again, already feeling his ears turn red. He brings a hand up to them, gently pinching the shell of his ear.

“Yeah. We had a project together, and she was really nice. Extremely smart, too,” Chris starts to explain, releasing a quick sigh. “Do you remember the party we threw a few months ago?”

“Yes,” both Changbin and Jisung reply simultaneously.

Chris laughs a bit, finding it funny that the two are so invested in this. “Well, she was there with Yeji. She ended up having too much to drink, and I had to bring her home,” he continues telling the story, his eyes going back to your figure. “and before she passed out, she confessed that she was in love with me.”

Both of his friends' jaw drops, causing him to roll his eyes again. “So, you mean to tell me this gorgeous girl is head over heels for you?” Jisung sums up the second part of the story. “Does she know that you know?”

“I don't think so,” Chris leans back on his chair. “She hasn't really spoken to me since that night. We don't have any classes together this year.”

“Why not go up to her now?” Changbin asks, raising an eyebrow.

Chris plays with his fingers, feeling nervous about the idea. “What if she didn't mean it?” He asks instead, locking eyes with Changbin.

“Have you heard of the phrase, “drunk words are sober thoughts?”” Jisung asks, giving him a bewildered look.

“Just go ask her out,” Changbin mutters to him, slapping his hands.

Chris slides his chair back, and both of his friends begin to freak out. People around them start to notice, and he gives the two a look.

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbles, running a hand through his hair. He pats Chris’ arm, grinning up at him. “Go get ‘em tiger!”

You're listening to Yeji tell you about the date she went on over the weekend. You giggle at how she tells the story and take a bite of your lunch.

Minho's eyes flicker to the right and it captures your attention to look as well. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of Chris walking up to your table.

“What's happening?” You ask in a whisper, mainly asking yourself.

His eyes lock with yours and he greets you with a smile. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, Chris,” you shyly greet him, lifting a hand to wave.

You watch him rub his hands on his jeans before he clears his throat. “Uhm, I was wondering–” he pauses, his eyes glancing towards Yeji and Minho, who are also watching him. “Do you know the studio we used for our project?”

You blink repeatedly, not expecting that question from him. “Yeah, why?” You ask with your head tilted a bit.

“Can you meet me there in a couple of hours? I want to talk to you about something,” he asks you, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, I can,” you agree, nodding your head.

Chris smiles, nodding his head as well. “Great, okay. I'll see you soon, then,” he mentions before quickly walking away.

Your lips are parted in surprise, not knowing what the hell just happened. Yeji slaps your hand while her free one covers her mouth.

“What the hell was that!?” She asks, also surprised.

“I don't know, honestly,” you tell her, fiddling with your fingers.

She pats your hand comforting before reassuring you. “Maybe he finally realized how pretty you are,” Yeji winks, causing you to giggle.

“Maybe,” you chuckle, tucking some hair behind your ear.

~

You're standing outside the studio that you and Chris have worked in before. You can see the light on from under the door, so you know that he's in there. You take a couple of deep breaths, feeling a little nervous.

You knock on the door and take half of a step back. The door opens up not even ten seconds later, revealing the man you've been in love with. He smiles at you, welcoming you in the small room.

He shuts the door behind you as you sit down on the leather couch. “What'd you want to talk to me about?” You ask him, deciding to get this anxious conversation over with.

Chris sits down on the computer chair, turning it so he's facing you. “Do you remember the party I had a few months ago?” He asks you, his gaze moving from you to his hands.

“Of course. I don't remember much from that night, but I remember showing up,” You nod your head, giggling a bit.

“I ended up bringing you home,” he mentions, and your eyes widen. You don't remember how you got home. You just assumed it was Yeji or Minho. “And, when I was in your apartment… you told me something.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. No… “I didn’t– I mean,” you stutter, beginning to freak out.

Chris reaches his hand out, gently taking your hand into his. “It's okay. I promise,” he reassures you, stroking the back of your hand. “You told me that you were in love with me. Is it true?”

You take a deep breath, feeling yourself shake just a little bit. “I… Yeah, I am. I'm sorry that I told you. I was drunk, obviously–”

“Will you go to dinner with me?” Chris cuts you off by asking you out.

“What?” You whisper, your heart skipping a beat. “Did you just–”

“Ask you out? Yes, I did,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand.

You smile at him softly, giggles leaving your lips. “Are you going to cut me off every sentence if I say yes?” You ask jokingly, squeezing his hand.

Chris laughs, and he shakes his head. “No, never. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to,” he says with a kind grin, reducing the space between you two. “I was panicking, and I didn't want you to think that I was going to reject you.”

“You're fine, Chris,” you reassure him.

His free hand comes to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” He asks you.

Your cheeks blush at his question, finding yourself nodding your head. Chris tilts his head to the side, capturing your lips in a shy kiss.

You grab a hold of the shirt he's wearing, kissing him back immediately. He releases your hand to wrap his arm around you, pressing your body against his.

He breaks away from the kiss, his chocolate eyes looking into yours. You feel like you're on cloud nine. Never in your life did you think that you'd pull Christopher Bang, yet here he is, kissing you like his life depends on it.

“Are you free this weekend?” He asks you, resting his forehead on yours.

“I have to bring Yeji and Minho somewhere, but after that, I'm all yours,” you grin, brushing your nose against his.

Chris reconnects your lips, giving you a short kiss. “Perfect.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

[star-eyed-angels]

Stray Kids Reaction | Fake Texts | FLUFF | Reacting to them at the Met Gala

Reacting to Stray Kids' Met outfits

A/N: Surprise bitches, I've got another fake texts for y'all. something quick to celebrate our boys at the met. rip to what could have been some killer outfits, but it's okay they killed it regardless. enjoy!!:)

Warnings: Minho's hints at something suggestive but v vaguely

CHAN

MINHO

CHANGBIN

HYUNJIN

JISUNG

FELIX

SEUNGMIN

JEONGIN

Dividers: @cafekitsune

[dwaekkicidal]

Kiss it Better

˚ʚLee Know x Gn!readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Minho has a rough day at the company and comes home exhausted, craving your loving.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: <1k (~650)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: nothing its just tooth rotting fluff

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: double post because ty for 100 followers :3 also max this is ur fault (AGAIN LMAO) im so weak at the idea of this help

MDNI!!

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

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•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•

Not long after his messages, Minho waddles into your shared apartment. Kicking his shoes off and throwing his keys on the kitchen table without any care. You peak your head out of the bedroom at the sound of the front door closing. When his eyes meet yours, you see the deep scowl on his face, but his eyes soften immediately at the sight of you. You smile softly and make grabby hands at him before ducking back into the room to start the shower for him. In seconds he’s following you and undressing through the doorway, desperate to get his sweaty clothes off.

You wait patiently on the bed and scroll through your phone. It doesn’t take long for him to return in his boxers, towel drying his hair on his way to the bed. Your phone is quickly tossed to the side and you pull him into the bed with you, watching as he throws himself on his stomach and groans into the sheets. You hold back a giggle at the sight and opt to run your hands down his bare back. He shudders but you can see him physically relax when your hands lightly massage his upper arms. He turns his head to the side, looking back at you as much as he could without straining himself.

“You wanna talk about it? Let me take care of you tonight baby..” You whisper out, the softness in your voice making his eyes shutter close as he nods lightly. You swiftly move to straddle his thighs, placing a kiss on the back of his shoulder and trailing down very slowly as he speaks up. He goes on for a while, explaining how the new choreography they were learning was extremely draining, telling you about the argument he got into with one of the members, and whining about the quality of the dinner he had at the cafeteria. He goes into light details about every other little thing that chipped at his happiness for the day while you trail kisses down his bare back. Your soft hands massaging up from his arms to his shoulder blades and you hum in response to every experience he lists, placing extra kisses for each as a reward.

By the time he’s done telling you about his day, he’s all but a puddle underneath you. Eyes shut and muscles completely relaxed. You back away to sit up, softly dragging your nails up and down his back to keep the attention on him. A wide smile spreads on your face as your eyes catch one of the cutest sights you think you’ve ever seen. Soonie lays next to Minho’s face, licking his hand as he softly caresses his baby. Not far away, Doongie and Dori are laying near each other and sleeping against your pillows. You carefully reach for your phone and take a picture, before laying beside your boyfriend and Soonie.

“Feel better?” Your voice startles him, his eyes closed and breathes lighter than normal. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes to respond with a quiet “Mmmg..”

You get up and walk over to your closet to grab a blanket, not wanting to disturb any of them by going under the sheets. You pick the softest one you own before returning. Soonie is gone when you kneel on the bed and you could almost thank him for the chance to be close to Minho.

You lay your head on the empty space left on the pillow and watch as Minho drags himself up to you, shoving his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. Your hands trail through his hair, massaging his scalp softly as he drifts off.

The two of you fall asleep like this, tangled in each other. There’s a quiet “Thank you" and "I love you so much.” from Minho as he finally falls asleep. You respond with a soft kiss to his forehead, drifting off shortly after.

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[writingforstraykids]

Always back to you - Chp.2

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of Chanlix)

Word Count: 7523

Summary: Minho and you grow closer over time as he watches you handling his beloved son with such ease. Minjun's innocent question, asking you to stay with them, changes the dynamics a little. One day, you're taking the trust Minho offers you regarding his son a little too freely, and it ends in a mess...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit, double "date" with chanlix, panic attack (brief description), argument (y/n and minho/ minho and chan), min collapses during practice

PART ONE | PART THREE (coming soon)

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Two weeks later

You just left the local aquarium, and all of you felt like getting something to eat now. Minho had mentioned their planned visit to the aquarium a few days ago, and Chan and Felix had decided to tag along, inviting you as well. 

It had been great fun seeing Minjun so fascinated with everything and answering all his questions. Chan and Felix fell back occasionally, taking some private moments as a couple for themselves as well, which left you a lot of time to talk to Minho. 

Now, you’re back outside, standing in front of the aquarium. “You’re hungry, mate?” Chan asks, kneeling in front of Minjun. 

“Yes,” he nods, wrapping his arms around Minho’s leg and cuddling into him. 

“Then let’s go get some food, yeah?” Chan suggests with a warm smile, and Minjun nods.

Minjun glances around before gently tugging at Minho’s trousers. “Daddy?” he asks, and Minho hums in response. “Up?” he asks, seeming a little intimidated by all the people after the peace and quiet at the aquarium. 

“Come here, dumpling,” he chuckles, picking him up. He tickles his side, pulling a sweet giggle from him, and kisses his cheek. “Let’s go eat, yeah?”

“Yes,” he nods, much more content up here now.

Felix looks up from his phone and taps Chan’s shoulder. “Babe? I found something,” he tells him, and Chan’s hand finds his as he leans over to glance at his phone.

“There’s a small restaurant not far from here that offers a lot for kids,” Chan tells them after humming agreeingly. “They even have a small playground in the back in case he gets bored and some coloring sheets.”

“Oh, guys, seriously, we can go wherever you want. He can still have some of mine if they don’t have kids' portions,” he assures them, and you notice his slight discomfort.

“I don’t mind, it looks good,” you agree with Chan.

“Minho hyung, relax; there’s plenty of stuff for all of us there. We don’t mind, honestly,” Felix assures him with his usual bright smile. 

“Okay then,” Minho nods with a shy smile. 

The theme restaurant is vibrant, decked out in bright colors, and adorned with characters from children’s shows. It was every kid’s dream, but as you sit down and look over the menu, Minho feels a familiar sense of dread begin to settle in. You excuse yourself for the bathroom and leave them for a moment. 

“What would you like to eat, Minjun?” Minho asks, pointing to pictures of various kid-friendly options. “They have dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, or maybe you’d like some noodles?”

Minjun scrunches up his face and shakes his head fiercely. “No! I don’t want those!” he protests loudly, causing a few nearby customers to glance over.

Minho’s heart sinks; they are in his son’s favorite type of restaurant, yet the usual struggle is unfolding. “Come on, buddy, you love dinosaurs. These nuggets look fun,” he tries to keep his voice cheerful, but the frustration is hard to mask.

“I don’t want it! I want to go home!” Minjun’s voice starts to rise, edging towards a tantrum.

Minho shoots his friends an apologizing look and shakes his head gently. “Baby, we'll eat here as we said.”

“They have your favorite noodles, Jiho; look,” Felix tries to help, showing him on the menu. 

“No!” Minjun swats his hand aside. Felix blinks in surprise but draws his hand back with an apologetic grin toward Minho. 

“Minjun, hey,” Minho says more firmly than he intended. “I know you're upset, but we don't hit people. Say sorry to Lix, baby,” he lessens the firmness in his voice again. 

“Sorry, uncle Lix,” Minjun says timidly, tears starting to form in his eyes. 

“It's okay,” Lix assures him gently. 

Minho takes Minjun's little hands into his and gently smiles. “Thank you, buddy. You still don't want to eat?” he asks. 

Minjun shakes his head, avoiding his eyes. By the time you arrive, Minjun is on the verge of tears, and Minho is feeling the stares of other people, each look like a weight added to his shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask gently, taking your seat next to Minho. 

“He doesn’t want to eat anything,” Minho explains, rubbing his temples. Chan gently pats his back, trying to calm him a little. 

You turn to Minjun, your expression thoughtful. “You know, I was really hoping you could help me with something,” you begin, speaking directly to Minjun. “I’m super hungry, and I can’t decide what to eat. Maybe you could choose something for me? What do you think is good here?”

Minjun, now distracted from his brewing fit, looks curiously at you. “Fries…or dino nuggies...” he mumbles, still upset but intrigued by the involvement in the decision-making.

“Great choice. But I heard this place has a secret dish that’s really, really cool,” you whisper conspiratorially. “It’s a magic pizza that makes everyone super happy when they eat it. Do you think we should try it?”

Minjun nods, a slight smile breaking through his frown. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees shyly.

You wink at Minho, who looks at you in astonishment as you get up. You talk a word in private to your waiter before the rest orders their things. While they wait for the food, you engage Minjun in a conversation about the aquarium you had visited earlier, effectively diverting his attention from the earlier situation.

When the food arrives, the pizza is presented by the waiter, who plays along with the 'magic' theme, sprinkling imaginary dust over it. “Enjoy your magic pizza, brave knight!” he exclaims, leaving Minjun giggling.

“See, it’s magic because it makes you smile,” You say, taking a small slice and offering it to Minjun. “You want to try some magic?”

Minjun hesitates for just a moment, glancing at his father. 

“Go on, baby,” Minho encourages him. 

Minjun nods before taking a tiny bite. His eyes widen in surprise. “It’s good!” he declares, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Minho watches the scene, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He smiles at you, mouthing a silent "thank you." The rest of the meal goes smoothly, with Minjun even trying some salad from Felix's plate and some noodles from Chan's. 

As they leave the restaurant, Minho feels lighter than he has in days. “You really have a way with him,” he says to you as you walk toward the park.

“It’s all about making it fun, turning it into a game,” you giggle. “Sometimes, kids just need a little distraction from their worries, even if it's about food.”

Minho nods, watching Minjun run ahead to the playground with Chan and Felix. “I guess I need to be a bit more creative with meals,”  he admits.

“Or just call me when it’s time to eat,” you joke, and you both laugh.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and play, with Minjun in high spirits, having forgotten all about the lunchtime drama. As Chan and Lix say their goodbyes, Minho feels not just the exhaustion from a day well spent but a profound appreciation for his friends.

“Thanks again, Y/nnie. Today could have gone a lot differently without you,” Minho says as you part ways with them. 

“Anytime, Minho,” you reply with a warm smile.

“Let me drive you home? You're on our way after all,” he says, and you take his offer. 

Minho gets Minjun settled in the back before driving off. “Y/nnie?” Minjun's little voice comes from the back. 

“Yes, buddy?” you ask, turning to face him. 

“Stay?” he asks, and you frown at him gently. 

“Stay where Minjunnie?” you ask. 

“With us?” he asks timidly. 

Minho glances at his son through the mirror. He can see the need in his eyes and swallows hard. He knows how much his son sometimes longs for someone else besides him. He asked about his mother before seeing other kids at the playground. 

You glance at Minho nervously, not quite knowing how to respond without hurting either of them. “You mean for dinner?” you ask, trying to find a way out. 

“No…always,” he says softly, his big round eyes watching you timidly. 

Minho stops at a red light and stares out of the window, avoiding your look. His grip around the steering wheel tightens as his thoughts start spiraling, once more feeling like he isn't enough for his son. He knows he isn't. 

“Oh, love,” you say quietly and reach back for him. “It's okay, you know, we see each other sooo often, and I'm always at the company.”

“But I miss you,” he says softly, and you honestly don't know what to say about that. 

“You want to stay for dinner?” Minho speaks up quietly, and you look back at him. He sees the hesitation written all over your face and swallows softly. “It would be fine,” he assures you quietly. 

You nod slowly, considering Minho's quiet offer. "I can stay for dinner, Minjunnie," you tell him, smiling as his face lights up. Minho gives you a grateful look, the tension easing from his shoulders as he turns back to the road.

The rest of the drive is spent in a comfortable silence, broken only by Minjun's occasional chatter from the back seat, talking about his day at the aquarium and the 'magic' pizza he had enjoyed. You listen, amused by his excitement and the way his eyes sparkle when he recounts his adventures.

Arriving at their home, Minho helps Minjun out of the car and into the house, with you following close behind. The familiar warmth of their home greets you and you slip off your shoes at the door, following Minho into the kitchen.

"I can help with dinner," you offer as Minho begins pulling ingredients from the refrigerator.

"Thanks," Minho says, his voice soft. "I think I'm just going to make something simple I know he likes. Is some pasta okay with you?"

"Perfect," you reply, setting the table while Minho starts cooking. Minjun hovers between the two of you, occasionally helping by passing ingredients or stirring the sauce under Minho's watchful eye.

As the pasta cooks, you and Minho chat about work and plans for the upcoming week. The conversation is light, but there’s an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken lingering between the lines.

Dinner is ready in no time, and you all sit down to eat. Minjun chatters happily, clearly enjoying having both of his favorite two people together. The meal is delicious, and you compliment Minho on his cooking, which makes him smile with pride.

After dinner, Minho insists on cleaning up, so you take Minjun into the living room to play a game. As you build a tower of blocks, Minjun's earlier request echoes in your mind. You glance towards the kitchen, where Minho is quietly washing dishes, and your heart twitches with a mixture of affection and concern.

"You're really good at building things," you comment, watching Minjun place another block on the tower.

"Daddy says I'm good too," Minjun states proudly, his concentration evident as he places each block.

"Of course he does," you encourage him, your thoughts still on his request to have you stay. It wasn't just about tonight—it was about all the nights and all the days. He wanted you there, a permanent fixture in their lives.

When Minho returns, drying his hands on a towel, he finds you and Minjun laughing as your tower wobbles before toppling over. He can’t help but smile at the sight, feeling a warmth spread through him he hasn't felt in a while, not like this. He watches you, studying your features as he has so many times before, and something in him screams not to think you're beautiful. But you are. Lately, he can't help but notice it again and again. 

"Ready for bed, buddy?" Minho asks after checking the time.

Minjun pouts but nods, knowing that bedtime is non-negotiable. You help Minho get him ready for bed, a routine that feels both familiar and strangely intimate. Minho reads Minjun a bedtime story, and you watch, feeling a part of this little family.

After Minjun falls asleep, you and Minho settle on the couch with cups of tea. The house is quiet; the only sound is the occasional distant car passing by.

"Minjun seems to be getting attached to you," Minho begins, breaking the silence. "More than just as Y/nnie from work.” You nod, unsure of what to say, feeling the weight of Minjun's request weighing on you both. "I've been thinking about it," Minho continues. "About what he said in the car. It's not just that he misses you, Y/nnie. I think... I think he's looking for that missing piece. A family."

You meet his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there. "Minho, I-"

"I know it's a lot," he cuts you off, his voice gentle. "And I'm not asking for anything, not really. I just... I want you to know that you're already part of our family. If you ever want that, for real, it's yours. But no pressure. I mean it."

The offer hangs in the air, profound and sincere. You take a deep breath, feeling the significance of his words settles around you. You’ve grown to love Minjun and Minho, too, in a way that is more than just friendly concern.

"Thank you, Minho," you finally say, your voice thick with emotion. "That means more than you know. I love being with you guys. It feels like home."

Minho reaches out, his hand covering yours hesitantly. "That's all I needed to hear," he says with a relieved smile. “You can stay with him as much as you want to. There's no one else I trust him with as much as you.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, your hand still feeling warm as he draws his own back again. 

You stay a little longer, talking and planning for the coming weeks until the yawns get the better of both of you.

As you leave, Minho walks you to the cab he called, and the night air is cool and comforting. "Stay safe, Y/nnie," he says, leaning close to hug you. You hug him back, a little surprised. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," you reply, the warmth of his hug lingering as you drive away, the image of Minjun’s sleepy smile and Minho’s thankful eyes etched in your mind.

Tonight, Minho’s words feel true in your heart—you are part of their family. And as the city lights blur past, you realize how much you’re looking forward to what the future might hold. Yes, you're delusional enough to hope there could be something deeper than what you have now. 

-

At first, you were still hesitant about staying with them so often, knowing how important it was for them to have some time to themselves. Over the following weeks, dinner with them grew into a part of your daily routine. You and Minjun spend a lot of time together in the kitchen, trying out new dishes, which makes eating a fun experience for the little one. This allows Minho to wrap up things at the company in peace, able to focus on himself for a little without having to worry about his little troublemaker. Minjun looks forward to cooking with you in the evening which makes saying goodbye to his father so much easier.

With all the cooking, you two start making extras for everyone. You know they have a fridge at the company where they store their personal stuff, so you and Minjun start filling it regularly. It delights them all, always finding a fresh meal for whatever time of the day or night if your name is Chan. It feels like you're not only part of Minho's private, small family but also his bigger family at work. 

It’s been almost a month since Minho’s offer to be part of this family, and you didn’t regret it one bit. You all found your routine by now, and you had a spare key to their house, allowing you to get home earlier with Minjun. It means a lot to you that Minho trusts you when you tell him you’re taking his son home. Minho and you have grown closer, knowing how much it meant to both of them that Minho was sharing his home with you. 

It’s getting harder with every passing day to ignore how much he means to you. How beautiful he is when he’s wrapped up in a blanket, hair messily falling into his face, a wide smile on his face as he’s fooling around with Minjun. How treasured the sound of his genuine laugh after a long day had gotten. How caring he is for both Minjun and now, to some extent you. How strong he is for his kid, making sure to excel both at work and at being a father when all he wants is to hide away sometimes. 

Tonight, you and Minjun decided to make dumplings and surprise Minho with them for dinner. The kitchen is soon filled with the aroma of spices, the rhythmic sounds of chopping, and laughter. Minjun, your little bundle of energy, is sitting on a chair next to you, his eyes bright with excitement. You patiently show him how to prepare the filling, and Minjun watches, eager to learn.

“Okay, Minjunnie, you want to try mixing?” you ask, handing him a large spoon.

“Yes,” he nods quickly, taking the spoon with both hands. His attempts are messy but earnest, and you can’t help but laugh as a bit of the filling spills over the side of the bowl.

“Good job, buddy! Now, let’s make the dumplings,” you encourage him, showing him how to place a small amount of filling in the center of a wrapper. You demonstrate pinching the edges together, a technique that has taken you a while to master. Minjun tries to mimic you, his small fingers fumbling at first, but with each attempt, his technique improves. “You’re a natural!” you compliment him and get the sweetest smile in return. Once more, you realize how similar he looks to Minho when he smiles, cheeks grow squishy, eyes squint in joy, and the bunny teeth show.

Later, as the dumplings steam, Minjun's attention shifts to the window. "When is Daddy coming home?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Soon, I think. He might be very tired, though. He had a long dance practice today," you reply, checking the dumplings.

As if on cue, the door opens with a soft creak, and Minho steps in, his face showing signs of exhaustion. Minjun runs to him immediately, almost tripping over his feet, wrapping his little arms around Minho's legs.

"Daddy! You're home!" Minjun exclaims, looking up with a smile that falters as he notices Minho's tired expression.

"Hey, little chef," Minho says, his voice weary as he bends down to scoop Minjun into his arms. "Did you make all these dumplings?"

Minjun nods proudly, and then his face turns serious. "Daddy, are you okay? You look sad."

Minho manages a tired smile. "Just a bit tired from practice, baby. But I'll be okay. Smelling those dumplings definitely makes me feel better."

You watch them, your heart swelling with affection but also concern for Minho. Lately, the dance practices have been intense, often leaving him drained. "Let's eat! I bet your daddy's hungry," you suggest, ushering them to the dining table where the dumplings were now ready, steaming hot and inviting.

The meal is cheerful, with Minjun chatting about his day and the dumplings he helped make. Minho eats with evident pleasure, praising Minjun's efforts, which makes the boy glow with pride. However, you notice Minho grimacing slightly every time he moves his shoulder.

After dinner, while Minjun is occupied with his coloring books, you approach Minho. "You're really pushing yourself hard, aren't you?" you ask softly, concern coloring your tone.

Minho sighs, rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, the new routine is tough. But it’s what I love to do."

You nod, your hands reaching out instinctively to his shoulder, your fingers pressing gently. "Maybe I can help a little," you offer.

Reluctantly, Minho agrees, and as your skilled hands work over his sore muscles, he feels the tension beginning to ease. The room is quiet besides Minjun's occasional hums as he colors and Minho’s low hisses whenever your fingers meet a tense spot.

"Thank you, Y/nnie," Minho murmurs, genuinely grateful. 

"It's nothing," you reply, your hands steady.

As you settle into the evening, Minho watching Minjun draw and you tidying up the kitchen, you feel complete, having spent a day well. The night ends with Minjun falling asleep early, curled up on the couch with his favorite blanket in Minho’s lap. “I’ll better get going,” you say with a glance at the clock. “I’ll be late on set tomorrow; I have an important call about a possible photoshoot for you before…but I’ll make sure someone’s there to keep Minjun occupied until then.”

“Alright,” Minho nods thankfully. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“Always,” you promise and gently squeeze his shoulder as you leave.

-

The next morning dawns bright and early for you. After a quick breakfast and the call, you make your way to the set where Minho is filming the music video for the song with Chan. Today's plan includes picking up Minjun from Minho’s set and treating him to some ice cream—a little surprise to break the monotony of his dad's long shooting days.

Upon arrival, you notice the usual hustle and bustle of the set, but with an added layer of excitement given the complex scenes scheduled for the day. As you navigate through the crowd of crew members and equipment, you spot Minjun sitting near one of the monitors, his eyes wide with fascination as he watches his father perform.

"Y/nnie!" he exclaims, his face lighting up as he sees you approaching. He runs over, nearly tripping over a cable before you scoop him up into a hug.

"Hey, my little star! Watching Daddy work, huh?" you say, smiling as you set him down.

"Yeah, Daddy’s really cool!" Minjun responds, his enthusiasm infectious. You chat briefly about what he's been watching before steering the conversation towards the day’s special plan.

"So, how about we grab some ice cream after this? Just you and me," you suggest, watching his reaction closely.

Minjun’s face splits into a broad grin. "Ice cream! Yes, please! Can we get chocolate?" he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Chocolate it is. Let’s go," you reply, your heart warmed by his excitement.

The ice cream shop isn't far, and the walk there is filled with Minjun's chatter about the various things he’s learned from watching his father on set. You listen, amused and impressed by his observations and memory.

Arriving at the shop, Minjun presses his nose against the glass display, his eyes scanning the array of flavors. "Two chocolates, please!" he declares when it’s your turn to order.

With the cones in your hands, you find a spot outside on a bench. Minjun eagerly attacks his ice cream, and the chocolate soon smudges his lips and cheeks. You can't help but laugh, pulling out a few napkins to clean him up.

"Y/nnie, do you like being with me and Daddy?" Minjun asks suddenly, his tone serious, as he looks up at you with those big eyes.

"I love it, Minjun. Being with you and your dad is the best part of my day," you answer honestly, touched by his question.

Minjun nods, seemingly satisfied with your response, and returns his attention to the rapidly melting ice cream. "Good. You're fun," he adds, his words muffled by a mouthful of chocolate.

As you sit there, watching Minjun enjoy his treat, you reflect on the changes in your life since joining their little family. Each day has brought its challenges and joys, but moments like these highlight the beautiful simplicity of your new life.

About half an hour later, you decide to make your way back, not knowing what mess your little surprise caused.

- 

Minho brushes a strand of hair from his face, eyes flickering to Minjun’s prior spot, only to notice he isn’t there anymore. He frowns and quickly scans the room, a shiver running down his spine when he can’t find his son anywhere. “Chan hyung,” he asks, terrified, grabbing his friend's arm.

Chan turns toward him, frowning, confused. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, seeing the fear in his eyes.

“Where’s Minjun?” he asks, and Chan glances around the room, not finding him either. 

“Baby, where’s Jiho?” he asks Felix, who’s already looking. “Min, who was watching him?”

Minho inhales shakily, his hands trembling by now, and his stomach tightens in pain. “I…He was right there the whole time,” he says, pointing at the now-empty chair next to the cameras. “Hyung, he was right there and-.”

“Breathe,” Felix tries gently, wrapping his arm around him. “He’ll be okay, yeah?”

“You don’t know that,” he shakes his head, anxiously watching Chan, who’s talking to their staff and trying to figure out who had seen him last. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have stopped watching him,” he whispers, and Felix squeezes him gently. Chan quietly ushers their team from the set so it’s only them, and pulls out his phone. Minho braces himself on his knees and squeezes his eyes closed as a wave of nausea crashes over him. “I’m gonna throw up,” he whispers, and Felix soothingly rubs his back, reminding him to breathe. He exchanges a worried glance with his boyfriend, anxiously biting the nail of his thumb.

The door opens, and you step inside, accompanied by a brightly smiling Minjun, who’s carrying a small bag of waffles for all of them. You look up, startled, and notice how empty the room is now, as well as Minho’s anxious form. Is he having a panic attack? Minho looks up, and the moment his eyes meet yours, something in his anxious expression changes. The fear makes room for a sudden coldness you’re not used to, which quickly gets replaced by anger. “Where the fuck were you?” he asks dangerously low.

“Minho, what’s wrong?” you respond, confusion evident in your tone as you hold Minjun’s hand a little tighter.

Minho pushes himself to his feet. “You took him. Without telling anyone? That’s what’s wrong!” His voice rises with each word, the strain of the moment overtaking his usual composure.

You glance down at Minjun, whose smile fades as he senses the tension. “I…we just went for some ice cream,” you explain, your voice steady despite the rising anxiety. “Minjun wanted to surprise you with-”

“A surprise? By letting me think my son had gone missing?” Minho snaps back, his words sharp and biting. “You don’t just take him, Y/n! Not without telling me.”

Minjun’s eyes begin to water, and his lower lip trembles as he looks up at his father and then at you. “Daddy, I wanted to.” His voice is a whisper, drowned out by the escalating argument.

“Not now, Minjun,” Minho says, a bit too harshly, his focus still fixed on you. "What were you thinking, Y/n?" he snaps, his voice laced with accusation. "You know you're supposed to let me know before taking Minjun out!"

You swallow hard at the sharpness of his tone, your eyes wide with surprise and hurt. "I'm sorry, Minho," you reply, your voice trembling slightly. Fuck. "I didn't think it would be a big deal. We were only gone for half an hour."

But Minho was beyond reason, his frustration bubbling over. "It is a big deal!" he insists, his expression one of betrayal. “I trusted you. How could you just take him without telling me? What if something had happened? How would you explain that, huh?”

Your heart clenches at his words, the hurt evident. “Minho, I would never put Minjun in danger. You know that.”

“No, I don’t,” Minho says harshly, making you take a step back, your grip on Minjun’s trembling hand loosening. What?

“Let’s all just take a breath, okay? This is getting out of hand,” Felix suggests, looking between you and Minho with concern. “Minjun is safe. He was with Y/nnie, and they weren’t far.”

"Minho, calm down," Chan steps in, seeing the clear shock written all over your face, his voice firm. "He was just trying to help out. You're overreacting."

But Minho now turns his anger towards Chan, his frustration boiling over. "Stay out of this, Chan," he snaps at him, his tone cutting. "This is between me and Y/n. This is about my kid."

“Calm the fuck down right now, Min,” Chan says, his voice rising as well. 

“Channie, baby, please,” Felix chimes in, fearing that his involvement would only make it worse. 

You let go of Minjun’s hand, looking at Minho timidly. “I thought you trusted me with him. You left him at home with me all the time, Minho. How is that any different?”

“The fucking difference is I knew!” he yells at you at the top of his lungs. 

Minjun flinches, the bag dropping to the floor. His face crumples, big tears spill down his face, and a loud cry ripples through him. Felix quickly scoops him up, walks a little away from the whole mess, and soothingly talks to him. It’s the first time Minjun has allowed Felix to comfort him when he’s upset, curling up in his arms.

You nod gently and shakily pull the keys to his house from your pocket. “That doesn’t give you an excuse to be such a fucking asshole,” you say, more calmy than you feel right now. “You just ruined his day; congratulations. Here, I won’t need them anymore,” you say, throwing the keys to his feet. “I’ll send you an email with your schedule for next week and make sure to find a proper replacement.”

“Y/nnie,” Minho breathes out, the reality of your words slowly settling in.

“Don’t Y/nnie me, not after this,” you shake your head and grab your jacket. “I’m sorry, Chan, I really liked working for you guys. You’re amazing,” you tell him before leaving, tears burning in your eyes painfully.

As soon as the door closes, Chan snaps at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Minho?!” he yells. “Are you insane? You just lost the one person who’s always been there for you. The one person your son felt comfortable around. You wouldn’t still be here without him; I hope you know that!”

“Fuck off!” Minho snaps back at him, feeling cornered.

“No, you fuck off! Minjun has no one to look after him when you’re busy except Y/nnie. Without Y/nnie, you wouldn’t even be part of the group anymore because you can’t fucking handle it on your own!” he says, and seeing Minho’s face fall, he knows he went too far.

“Chris!” Felix raises his voice at him, looking at him shocked.

“Well, thank you for finally being honest with me,” Minho says dryly, nodding to himself. 

“Min, he didn’t mean it like that,” Felix tries gently as Minho makes his way over to them. 

“Give me my son, please,” he says quietly. Minjun nearly screams as he eases him out of Felix’s hold. He flinches back, eyes filling with tears at the broken sound. 

Felix worriedly glances down at the little boy clinging to him tightly. “Minjunnie, you’re gonna go home, okay?” he asks, growing anxious, at him shaking his head firmly. “Your daddy’s gonna take you home now,” he says, gently lifting him off his chest. 

Minjun shakes his head, sobbing heavily, and holds onto his shirt tightly. “No, Daddy’s stupid!”

Minho carefully eases Felix’s shirt from his son’s hands and takes him into his arms. Minjun starts kicking, hitting his chest. Minho presses his lips together tightly, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, holding onto him tightly so he won’t slip from his grip. Minjun wails in his arms, still fighting him as he carries him outside to the car. “I’m so sorry, buddy. Daddy’s an idiot,” he tells him shakily, the seatbelt slipping from his fingers repeatedly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, finally managing to buckle him up. He closes the door to the car and tries to hold back the sob threatening to leave him.

“You forgot your stuff,” Chan says softly, suddenly next to him. 

Minho quickly wipes his cheeks with his sleeve and takes the bag from him. “Thanks,” he mutters, not meeting his eyes.

“Min…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he says carefully. “You’re doing your best, and we all know it. That wasn’t fair,” he tells him.

Minho throws the bag onto the passenger’s seat and shakes his head, sniffling. “It’s fine. You were right. I suck at this, and I’d do you all a favor if I quit until he’s older.”

“Don’t say that,” Chan says gently, shaking his head. “We couldn’t do this without you.”

“I highly doubt that,” he says, voice breaking. 

“Minnie,” he says quietly. 

“Fuck, Channie hyung, I messed it all up,” he finally breaks down, hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

Chan pulls him into a tight hug, swallowing at how hard Minho is trembling in his arms. “What happened in there, hm? You’re usually not like this,” he asks carefully, and Minho shakes his head with a sob. Chan chews on his lower lip, realizing this could possibly go deeper than he thought, considering Minho’s insecurities regarding raising his kid right. The question hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed. “Look, I know you’re doing this whole parenting thing on your own, and you’re doing an amazing job,” Chan continues, soothingly rubbing his back. “But you can’t let your fear make you forget who your allies are. Y/n loves Minjun almost as much as you do. He wouldn’t just take him without any consideration of the risks.”

Minho’s eyes met Chan’s, a mixture of anger and sorrow battling within. “I know. I just... When I didn’t see him, all I could think about was all the things that could go wrong. He’s everything I have, Channie. He's my baby, and no one can just take him without telling me.”

Chan nods, smiling at him sadly. “I know, mate, I know,” he assures him. “Let me drive you two home, okay? You shouldn’t be driving right now,” he says, and Minho nods weakly. “Come on,” he urges him gently. Minho slips into the passenger’s seat, wiping his cheeks with his sleeves messily. Chan notices Felix a few steps away, anxiously chewing on his lower lip. “You’re coming with us, baby? We can take a cab from there,” he tells him, and his boyfriend nods quickly.

“You really think he’ll quit?” Felix asks timidly.

“Min? No, he-” he says, but Felix shakes his head.

“No, Y/nnie,” he says, chewing on his lower lip anxiously. “That would be the worst thing for Minjun.”

“I don’t know, baby,” he shakes his head. “That depends on Min and Y/nnie. We can’t do much; they have to be okay…but Minho feels like shit for it,” he sighs and kisses his cheek. “It’ll be okay, baby.”

“Mhm, maybe,” Felix nods before slipping into the back to Minjun, who’s still crying softly. 

“L-Lix,” he whimpers and reaches for him again. 

“Hey, buddy,” he says gently, taking his hand. “It’s okay, yeah? We’re taking you home now, okay?”

“O-Okay,” he hiccups.

Minho remains quiet during the ride home, silent tears running down his cheeks as he’s biting his lower lip hard. Minjun cries quietly in the back as Felix tries to soothe him a little. 

They reach their house not much later, and Felix carries Minjun inside. He exchanges a long look with Chan before moving Minjun to the room with all his toys. 

Minho's face is a canvas of frustration, marked by the occasional wipe to remove the tears running down his cheeks. Chan gently guides him to the sofa and sits down with him. 

"Minho, man, we need to talk about what happened," Chan begins, his voice firm yet gentle, trying to cut through the tension.

Minho nods, not meeting Chan's eyes, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I know, I know I messed up. It's just... when I couldn't see Minjun, everything went black. I panicked, Channie hyung."

Chan places a hand on Minho's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "I get that, really, I do. The fear of losing Minjun is real and valid, but the way you handled it with Y/n wasn't fair. You trust Y/nnie, don't you?"

"I do, but at that moment, all that trust just... vanished. I just felt so out of control," Minho confesses, his voice cracking with emotion.

"It’s important to remember that Y/n cares about Minjun almost as much as you do. He wouldn't have taken him without considering his safety. But I think this goes deeper, Minho. This isn't just about today, is it?" Chan observes, trying to dig deeper into Minho's fears.

Minho sighs, a long, weary sound that seems to carry the weight of the world. "It's everything, Chan. The pressure of work, trying to be there for Minjun, getting closer to Y/n, and not knowing where the line is—it's all piling up. And today, I just... broke."

Chan nods, understanding more than Minho realizes. "You're not alone in this. You've got us, you've got Y/n…you need to fix this."

Minho wipes his face. "Maybe you're right. I need to handle this better, for Minjun and for myself."

"And you need to apologize to Y/n properly. He deserves that much, Minho. He's been here for you through thick and thin."

Minho knows Chan is right. The thought of facing you was daunting but necessary. He owes you an apology, one that acknowledges his overreaction and the hurt it caused.

-

Later that day, after taking some time to compose himself and gather his thoughts, Minho found Minjun playing quietly in his room. His little boy looks up, his face still showing signs of the day's stress.

"Hey, buddy... can we talk?" Minho sits beside him on the floor, his tone gentle. Minjun nods, his eyes curious and a bit cautious.

"I want to apologize, Minjun. Daddy got very scared today when I couldn’t find you, and I didn’t handle it well. I shouted, and that wasn’t right. I’m sorry for scaring you," Minho starts, his heart heavy.

Minjun moves closer, leaning into his dad. "Okay, Daddy… Y/nnie bought ice cream."

"I know, and it was a wonderful idea. I’m sorry for ruining it. And I’m sorry for how I spoke to Y/nnie. He didn’t deserve that. I’m going to apologize to him, too," Minho says. 

"Do you still like Y/nnie, Daddy?" Minjun’s small voice is filled with worry.

"I do, very much. Y/nnie is important to us, right? I made a big mistake today, and I hope he can forgive me," Minho explains, hoping his son could understand.

Minjun hugs him tightly, "I forgive you, Daddy."

Minho chuckles softly, hugging his son back. "Thank you, baby."

Two weeks later

Life had once more settled into a stressful rhythm for Minho following the upheaval of his outburst and its emotional aftermath. Days morphed into weeks with Minjun by his side; each one layered with the joys and challenges of single parenthood, combined with his demanding schedule. Despite his deep love for his son, the strain of juggling his roles was evident.

Minho is preparing Minjun's backpack for the day, his movements automatic. The routine is well-practiced but no less draining. Minjun is playing on the carpet, glancing at his father suspiciously as he's preparing breakfast. 

“Daddy, you okay?” Minjun’s small voice cuts through the morning stillness, his eyes wide with concern.

Minho pauses, taken aback by the question. “Of course, buddy,” he replies, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“You're tired,” Minjun says simply.

Minho sighs, the weight of his exhaustion settling deeper on his shoulders. He is tired—more than tired. Each day felt like a battle, each night a too-short break from it all.

Later that day, after getting Minjun settled, the effects of chronic stress, sleep deprivation, and emotional turmoil begin to manifest more aggressively. As he moves through the complex choreography, his steps start to falter, his usually sharp movements grow sluggish, and his focus wanes.

“Minho, take five!” Chan calls out. “You’re off today, man. Everything alright?”

Minho nods mutely, too spent to formulate a response. He retreats to a quiet corner, his breath uneven, his heart racing uncomfortably in his chest. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to stave off the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Just as he felt like he'd be fine, a sharp pain clutched at his chest, his breathing growing labored, and the room seemed to tilt on its axis. Panic claws at his mind as he staggers, trying to call out for help, but his voice is a mere whisper. 

“Minho!” He hears someone shout and feels hands steadying him just before everything goes dark.

When Minho regains consciousness, he finds himself on a couch in the studio’s lounge, surrounded by concerned faces—Chan, Jeongin, and Felix, holding a distressed Minjun. An ambulance siren wails in the distance, growing louder as it approaches.

“What… what happened?” Minho manages to ask, his voice weak.

“You collapsed, man. Scared the hell out of us,” Chan replies, his expression tight with worry.

The paramedics arrive swiftly, assessing Minho quickly. Blood pressure high, heart rate erratic, they murmur words like "exhaustion" and "stress" as they prepare him for transport to the hospital.

The hospital tests confirm what Minho had tried to ignore: he was suffering from severe exhaustion combined with stress. The doctor’s advice was obvious. "You need to rest, Mr. Lee. Your body is telling you it can’t keep up this pace. If you ignore this warning, the next incident could be more severe."

Minho lies back on the hospital bed, the sterile white of the room a stark contrast to the vibrancy of his daily life. The words hit hard, a sobering reminder of his mortality and the stark reality of his responsibilities as a father.

Chan, who had accompanied him, squeezes his shoulder. “You gotta take care of yourself, Minho. For Minjun’s sake, if not your own.”

“I know,” Minho murmurs, the gravity of his situation settling in. “I just… thought I could handle it all.”

Chan’s look is sympathetic but firm. “No one can handle everything alone, Min. You need to let others help. Maybe it’s time to reach out to Y/nnie again. For support.”

The suggestion lingers in the air between them, heavy with implications. Minho’s thoughts drift to you, your warmth, your laughter, and the comfort you brought to both him and Minjun. The thought of reaching out, of potentially being rejected, is terrifying, yet the fear of what might happen if he continued on his current path is greater.

Anxiously, Minho makes the decision to call you from the hospital, his heart pounding as he dials the familiar number. The phone rings, each tone echoing like a drumbeat in his tense silence.

“Hello?” you ask, cautious yet warm.

“Y/nnie, it’s Minho. I… I need to talk to you. It’s important.” His voice is unsteady, and his admission of need is a significant release of his tightly held pride. “I…I need help.”

There’s a pause, a breath held, and then released. “I'm listening.”

Minho's voice wavers as he speaks, the hospital's fluorescent lights casting stark shadows across his face. "I... I had an incident today at rehearsals. I collapsed," he confesses, the words tasting like defeat but necessary in their truth.

You suck in a sharp breath at his words. "Minho, are you okay? Where are you now?" you ask, your voice thick with worry.

"I'm at the hospital. They're telling me it’s stress and exhaustion. Nothing life-threatening, but...can you look after Minjun for a few days?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as you're silent for a while. 

“So you're suddenly trusting me again?” you ask dryly. 

Minho takes a moment to answer. “Minjun does…that tells me everything I should need to know,” he says quietly. “I've been an asshole, okay? I know I was. Once I'm better…can we talk? Really talk?” he asks timidly. 

You sigh softly, rubbing your face. “Where is he?” 

“He's with Lix,” he tells you, heart racing in his chest as you didn't answer his question. 

"Get some rest, Minho. We'll sort everything else out later," you reply, your voice a soothing balm to Minho’s frayed nerves. Shit, he missed you. 

“Thank you,” he says, tears burning in his eyes. 

“Just…take care, okay? Your little boy needs you,” you say quietly. 

“I will.” 

PART ONE | PART THREE (coming soon)

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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[cheolsfae]

Hello:) I was wondering if you do a reading for how Stray Kids would be like with a sensitive s/o ( like the one for enhypen)? Thank you!!!🩷

Mhm!

*Disclaimer: Solely for fun. Please do not take this seriously! For entertainment purposes only!*

Minho's and Hyunjin's are so fucking sweet I swear to god! I'm loyal to changbin, loyal to changbin, loyal to chang-

𓆦 Chris (Bangchan)

Past: queen of wands, page of swords

At first, he'd be happy that he managed to pull someone as sweet as them. He could possibly have staked them out first though. Like been watchful of who was after them too. So like making sure he was the only one after them. Like he wants that person to himself. All of them for him and no one else. He might be the type to be absolutely confident in himself that he could pull them even if there was competition. Overly confident too.

Present: 4 of cups, 6 of swords (reversed), the star

I think he would be the type to kind of start walking on egg shells with this person once the honeymoon phase is over. Mainly because he's scared to hurt them. He doesn't want to say something that would cause them to be in pain. He wouldn't want to end things with them, cause they are someone who he is wishing for but it is difficult for him to be his most self with. So it would be hard for him to keep seeing someone like this. I'm not sure how long this would last.

Future: the emperor, 5 of cups

He would see a future with this person but ultimately, I don't think it would last very long. He'd be disappointed in himself for not feeling completely fulfilled in himself if he continued on hiding his true self from this person just to spare their feelings. Like yes, it's a nice thing to do but if you can't be authentic why keep up this facade for the rest of your life? It's extremely tiring to do for even an hour let alone a whole life time. That's just crazy. He would end up having to leave this person.

𓆦 Minho

Past: the hanged man, the magician

So when he came into contact with this person he'd immediately know he'd have to change things. Like the way he spoke about things, he'd know he'd have to say it in a more gentle way than what he is typically used to. He'd be so into this person, he might have been hoping and praying they would come towards him. Like they made the effort for him, doing all the extra-ness for him. But he'd also be giving the same energy. It's not all going to be one sided. He's going to want to change his ways for this person.

Present: 8 of pentacles, 6 of wands

He's going to want to be a better person for this sweet person. It's going to "force" him to really work on himself. He's going to want to be more open with this person, more affectionate. This type of person could really soften his heart (not that he's cold, he's just not flat out affectionate, it's more indirect) and be more willing to show the affection outright. It looks like he could be successful in this change if he was willing to put in the effort.

Future: page of wands, ace of swords

He really would want to keep expanding and seeing where things could go with this person. He would absolutely be more direct about what he sees in the future with this type of person. He'd be more willing to be more public with affection. This is the type of person, I feel would suit him best. This person seems to have lessons for him to learn.

𓆦 Changbin

Past: page of cups, 3 of swords

So, he's gone through this before. He is sensitive, regardless if he wants to admit it or not. He is. So if he was to make any sort of effort to get to know someone who was also sensitive, he'd be fearful of them hurting him more than he himself hurting them. He maybe a big buff guy but he's really soft and needs to be protected too. So, if he were to make this offer to someone more sensitive, he'd be extremely hesitant and they'd have to be willing to protect him like he is for them. Equal ground in that sense.

Present: 3 of cups, 10 of cups

Once he's gotten past the fear of them hurting him, he'd feel emotionally fulfilled. He'd be happy with everything that he's got going for him at that point. He'd feel like he's earned everything he's got with this person. He'd feel like he could actually build something with this person. I think that this person would feel the exact same way as he would. Really cute!!

Future: 6 of wands, the hermit

He'd feel like he's accomplished so much. He's a Leo, so of course he'd be feeling very prideful of what he's got both with this person and what he's got going for him career wise. I don't think this would be boastful energy but something more subtle. Not something like we are used to seeing from him, I feel like he'd be low key about being this happy, feels more genuine from him than his silliness. So like a sense of maturity with it.

𓆦 Hyunjin

Past: queen of pentacles, the world

Very nurturing and sweet towards this person, not a doubt in my mind that he'd be the absolute sweetest towards them. He views this person as his whole world. This could be something he does with every partner but especially if this person is very sensitive. He wants to protect them at all costs. Nothing is going to harm them. He wants to be their safety net. Will do whatever he can to keep them safe!

Present: 10 of pentacles, king of cups

He's emotionally stable enough to take care of them. He wants to be able to provide for them in any which way they need it. He wants to be their solid support system. He's always going to be there for them no matter how small the issue is. They stubbed their toe? He's right there making sure they are icing it, making sure they aren't bleeding, lmao. He's really there for them through thick and thin. Even if he doesn't particularly like them when they are arguing, he'd still bail them out of trouble in a heart beat.

Future: 4 of words, 7 of wands

He wants to get to a secure place with this person where he can be himself and still feel like he's putting a whole lot of effort towards this connection. Not laziness but a comfortable love. He wants to be able to enjoy it with this person no matter how slow moving they are.

𓆦 Jisung

Past: the star, 7 of swords

So he had hoped for someone like that. But I don't think he really would know what to expect from this person. So in the beginning, he'd be a little fake. He wouldn't exactly be showing his true colors right away. He'd be in a state of walking on egg shells. Hiding himself because he doesn't know this person very well.

Present: the high priestess, 7 of wands

He would be very suspicious of this person. He'd feel like they were definitely hiding something. Like they are working on screwing him over. He may have some serious attachment issues. He could have a disorganized attachment style. Like he has to leave before they can leave him or he has to be more clingy thinking that will get them to stay. Depending on what kind of attachment the other person has.

Future: 8 of swords, page of pentacles

He's going to be getting too much in his head if someone like this walked into his life. He'd definitely self sabotage because he doesn't think he deserves someone like that. He would end up bread crumbing them. Not intentionally but because he might have low self esteem when it comes to romantic conncections.

𓆦 Felix

Babylon by 5 Seconds of Summer is coming to mind for this one.

Past: queen of cups, 6 of swords

At first, I think they would both appreciate it. Like yes, I have someone who understands me. We are both on the same level. They would be letting go of old patterns they had prior to this connection. Like they would be able to be vulnerable with one another. No need to hide who they are with one another. Just bare it all and they'd accept each other, no hesitation whatsoever.

Present: queen of wands, 6 of cups

It would kind of start to move quickly. That's because they'd feel like they'd known each other for a life time. It'd be great and good for a while but then something switches and it kind of goes out and now they are constantly bickering at one another. Over silly little things too. Yes, there are growing pains but they shouldn't be all that often and it's going to turn incredibly toxic.

Future: knight of swords, the magician (reversed)

As quickly as this started it would end just as swiftly. No doubt that they care for one another deeply but eventually, I feel that it would end up turning into a game of who's a better manipulator. I don't think it would be intentional at first but it would more towards the end of it. It's like who's more daring to use their emotions to get what they want.

𓆦 Seungmin

Past: 9 of pentacles, judgement

So, at first he'd be hesitant to take this kind of risk. Because he does like his independence. He like's being on his own. No shame in that. He'd be going back and forth about what he wants from such a person but ultimately I think he'd take that risk. He's more scared of the harm he could end up doing to this person because he isn't completely healed but I think in this case, he would heal more if he got with this person. They'd do him no harm, they would help him learn and be better.

Present: 4 of wands, king of wands

He'd end up caving for this person. He'd end up taking the gamble. He'd start off really passionate but once he learned that that's not the type of person this person is, he'd tone it down a lot and be more true to the type of partner he is rather than putting up this front that he's all passion and nothing more. He'd be more down to earth.

Future: 4 of swords, 10 of pentacles

He'd definitely tone it down a lot. But don't get it mixed up, he's still deeply and utterly in love with this person just a more realistic version of love than what Hollywood makes it to be. It's more calming. This person is his peace and he wants to keep it that way forever if he can.

𓆦 Jeongin (I.N.)

Past: 5 of pentacles (reversed), 9 of pentacles

I think if/when he meets this type of person he's going to have released an old energy of holding grudges. He's going to be happy and living his best life. I think he would be more than willing to give this whole thing a shot. It would be something good for him, he'd be willing to give this whole thing a go. Even without knowing the risks that are involved with it.

Present: 8 of pentacles, 10 of wands (reversed)

He's also be the type to work on himself to better himself for this person. He doesn't want to be a burden to this person. Like having an emotionally stunted partner is not something anyone should have to deal with and he's hoping he isn't that way to that person, he wants to be someone reliable. A "man's man" if that makes any sense.

Future: ace of wands, 4 of swords

He's going to be very forward with this person. Just flat out direct mainly because he doesn't want them to over think. He wants them to know how much he cares for them. He doesn't want them to feel like they are being left in the dark. That's something that he wouldn't like being done to him so why do it to another person?

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

The Distant Sound Of The Washing Machine

pt. 2 of Washing Machine

Summary:

Minho and you take a well needed nap and return to the familiarity of each other's presence.

Minho/ Reader

domestic fluff, cuddling, insecurity, assurance

word count: 1856

'Your hair is in my nose', Minho grunted, frantically turning his head from side to side. 

He proceeded to sneeze and hurried to turn completely away from you. His body ebbed due to the sudden reflex and he automatically tightened his arms around you to hinder you from falling off him. Your sleepy whine made him halt all movements and as slowly as possible, he looked down on you. 

'Keep sleeping. It's all good', he whispered and pushed your strands of hair down, away from his face and used the opportunity to lovingly pat your head. 

He tried to get back into some sort of slumber, but he was already too awake. He noticed the bright sunlight that found its way through the gap of the curtains and the distant sound of birds told him that it was indeed the middle of the day. Your full weight on him was calming and despite the warm spring temperature outside, he was still able to fully enjoy your radiation of warmth. 

'Sleepy baby, hm? You need this nap so much, huh?', he cooed, running his fingertips over your scalp. 

He gazed down on you, studying your features, getting lost in counting your eyelashes and had to start over again when you slightly move with a big sigh with which you were cuddling into him. He suppressed his smile and frowned when he realized that the only person he was hiding his giddiness from was himself. Ironically, he himself was the person most aware of his adoration for you, so he allowed his lips to take up the space of a big grin. 

'I love you', he hushed in a hitched breath, just now understanding that his smile took up all of his concentration. 

The washing machine was still running in the adjacent room, and the steady sound put his mind in a meditative state. There wasn't much talking before you fell asleep on top of him, gripping his shirt so tightly that he now understood how his black sweater managed to be so ridiculously wrinkled. He even doubted that washing and ironing it could possibly help evening out the fabric, but he also knew it wasn't necessary to bring it back into its initial state. As long as it helped you, it was fine to him.

His mind repeated your few whispers that you gifted him before your last energy finally left you. He silently reconstructed your phrases about failed exams, rude people, and friendships that ended. The stories weren't new to him. The daily video chats served well as opportunity to share the significant events for the months of separation, but physically feeling your words meeting his ear, paired with your breath and the minuscule nuances of how you tapped his hand when you emphasized something or how you looked away when you were thinking just to return looking back at him with a spark in your eyes that he was only able to see in person, brought the closeness he enjoyed most. Sure, taking your hand, hugging you, kissing you, all of that he loved, but none of that was as much needed as simply being in the same room with you, experiencing you talking to him. Your voice wandering through a room so naturally was what Minho defined as being home. 

'I missed you so much', he mumbled and placed a tender kiss on top of your head. 

The washing machine's sound faded out, and its beeping announced its work being done. To Minho's dislike the high-pitched repetition of the machine's notification managed to wake you, and he tightened his embrace around you when you started moving in the process of gaining conciseness. He wasn't ready to let you go yet. 

Your hair ruffled around his face again, and he desperately started blowing into your direction to keep the tickling strands away from him. When you lift your head, he is met with your frown and immensely sleepy eyes that were still reddened from your recent crying. However, he could also see the little spark of annoyance that you only managed to bring out when you were energized enough. Therefore, the nap must have helped, and Minho smiled at the hope of you feeling better. 

'You might have forgotten, but-', you started and were interrupted by a yawn that caused you to nuzzle into Minho's shoulder, before your continued, 'but I am not a cat, so, would you stop blowing at me?'. 

You groaned and lied back down, still in need to adapt to being awake and Minho started sorting your hair again, trying his best to braid it what proved to be rather difficult from the position he was in. With a proud hum, he secured his work with the hair tie that he kept around his wrist. The habit  of carrying it with him in case you needed it lasted through the whole sequence of being long distant. His arm felt empty without the elastic. He played with it when he was nervous, feeling closer to you. He could pretend that you were just in the next room and about to return to him every second when his fingers stretched the tie only to let it spring back into its original radius. He needed your little mundane belongings just as much as you needed his black sweater.  

'I'm sorry, but you are my little kitty and your human form can't trick me. I have seen your soul', he whispered in a hushed laugh and placed another kiss on your head.

'You have seen my soul?', you asked and rolled down from him to the empty side of the bed, causing Minho to move with you to keep facing you. His hand on your waist never left, and he squeezed your soft skin like he always did, an action that never failed to make you a tiny bit shy.

The same happened this time. It is a sensation that strangely carried the sentiment of a tickle, yet Minho did it with the slowed of specific intention, allowing his warmth to transfer through your clothes right onto your skin and for some reason this touch of his directly went to your heart. You were still surprised by your shy smile that heats your whole face. The tickling feeling that he only placed on the surface travelled through your cells, an exponentially multiplying tingle that ultimately assailed your soul that adapted with a bright vibration. 

'I did. It's beautiful', he told you with his sickening sweet voice and his mischievous gaze.

'Yeah? It's supposed to match my face, so it makes sense', you returned the demeanour and gain a  light playful squeeze on your waist.

'Your face only makes sense for your soul because it's framed by your hair, and who is taking care of your hair looking good? Me', he snorted and placed a smug kiss on your lips, but what started as a complacent reward to him proceeded into a desperate linger. 

Being around you was so familiar to Minho, whereas his existence suddenly felt so unaccustomed to the feeling of your lips against his. It is not like he forgot your power over him, but it seemed like his body forgot and now made it obvious that it only functioned as host for his own soul and that essential essence of him wanted to be with yours. 

When you pressed yourself further into him, silently returning his kiss, his breath was entirely knocked out of his lungs. The way you proceeded to touch him so tenderly, so fully and attentively convinced him that if ever necessary he toured, just transfer his soul into your vessel, trusting you to continue being his home forever. 

'The washing machine is done', he found himself whispering into your mouth and besides your power over him he is now also once again reminded of his incapability to put his deep feelings into words that could make their way to you. It made him sad, the idea that he would never be completely understood by anyone but himself, not even by you. In this life, he would always have to rely on being interpreted rather than understood. 

'But our nap is not done yet', you assured him and smiled against his lips, playfully licking over them, and he couldn't but think that his cats were doing that too. 

He looked at you and found your eyes that were focused on him. There was this spark, so obviously, so overwhelming to him, that he wondered why no one ever pointed it out, why no one ever mentioned it or seemed even remotely as caught up on it like Minho was. 

'I love you', he whispered so quietly that he was sure the phrase only popped up in his head, but you told him the same thing right away. 

He involuntarily squeezed your waist again, needing to hold onto the most reliable thing he had in life, and your reaction of nuzzling against him, all shy and giddy, mirrors his hidden away soul's attitude. The faint shadow of the list on the shelf caught his attention and went through all the points he had written down to not forget how he wanted to reencounter you after such a long time, wanting to make sure you understood how much you being in his life meant to him. He was so scared that you would return, grown without him, maybe even outgrown him, so that you would realize that he just wasn't for you anymore. Once the illusion of who he was, who he used to be without being that anymore, bursted, you would just move on. He would let you go, perfectly aware of the pain, pain that you might be able to guess but not fully understand, because he was the one carrying the pain at a place that only he could access. 

'What about the sweater?', he asked and heared the tremble in his voice, quickly faking a yawn to conceal his insecurity. 

'Got you back', you mumbled and suddenly searched for his hand. 

He placed it on yours and let you move it between your bodies. He felt you turning his palm towards you and your lips pressing into it. He let you form his hand into a fist. He wasn't looking, solely trying to follow what you were doing, how you were moving, by tracking the synergy of your both's bodies. His fist was pressed against your chest, and you kept holding this hand to ambitiously that he was sure it was yours now. 

'Is that enough?', Minho asked, throwing the words into the air, recklessly waiting if they rain down on you.

'You are everything', you answered and kissed where his heart beat it pounding against his chest from the inside and he decided that he might never be understood like he understood himself, with all the big and small words, intense and nuanced feelings, but your interpretation of him was his favorite, the one that elevates and grounds him and made him believe that his soul could live on in you just as well as it was living in himself. 

[astralis-ortus]

game for two

✱ husband!bc × gn!reader

— guess who just got his old yearbook in the mail?

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff, married life!au, non-idol!chan warnings → minor cussing (light hearted context), chan referred to as chris

coming home from work, you’re usually greeted with one of the following­—an empty house, a soft reverberating beat from the small, cozy studio located at one end of your home, or a soft snore while some romance movie thickens its plot on the screen of your neatly mounted tv.

a view of your husband with a stack of books on his lap, however, was not exactly something you would ever have in your bingo card.

“whatcha up to?” became your follow up question after chris’ quick how-was-your-day debrief. it didn’t take you long before promptly securing the spot next to your husband, where he—judging from the way your ivory-colored couch emanates heat—had been hanging around on for quite some time now. “i don’t think i’ve seen those books before.”

“mm, just got them in the mail today,” chris hummed, an arm swiftly encaged your figure as he attempts wrap you in his warmth, “mum and dad found these in the attic while they were clearing out the house. thought would be better to keep these here than to fill up space in their new home.”

it only took you a second to realize what kind of book your husband has been flipping through when a familiar-yet-way-younger-looking dimpled smile came into view, eternally captured in the printed sheet. “oh! baby chris!”

“good lord,” a chuckle ignited from the depth of his chest, ones that always pair with the soft crinkles near his eyes and sometimes a nuzzle to your hair when he couldn’t stand the adoration bubbling in his heart, “i was an angsty, moody teenager there, not a baby.”

“sure, whatever you say, baby,” you teased, emphasizing the word as you stole the perfectly conditioned yearbook from his hands. you’ve seen countless of chris’ teenager years' pictures, sure, but what harm could it bring to have a peek at more?

chris comically let out a sigh as he rolled his eyes—a signature telltale of his attempt to ‘look’ annoyed. “you’d really be in a huge trouble if you call an angsty teenager a baby, you know.”

“i don’t, actually,” eyeing the faint playful glint in chris’ eyes, you decided to lure him into a game. after all, what’s a more fun way to spend your evening than to bicker with your husband? “what would this-” you pointed at his half-heartedly grinning self of the past, “-angsty teenager do if teenager me called him a baby?”

another set of chuckles escapes him—ones louder, which, more often than not, indicates his approval of the arena you’ve built.

he’s in the game.

“well, for starters,” chris tilted his head, quite obviously setting himself to get a full view of your reaction just by gauging the godawfully attractive smirk he got etched on his lips, “i’d probably…”

“…probably?”

his way of building suspense will one day definitely be the death of you. really. if you were honest to yourself, you would actually rather kiss that damned smirk off his face right now—but the game has just started, and you’d hate to lose to your husband on your own little trick.

only… would he even let you win?

“well…” shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, chris continued,

”i’d probably tell you to fuck off.”

the way your grin transformed into a face of utter disbelief was enough of a trigger to fill the room with echoes of chris’ laugh, filling the space with the kind of warmth you’ve only known after you met him. for now, however, you feel like you’ve been betrayed.

“that’s rude!” you huffed, incredulous. though arms are now completely folded in front of your chest, chris knew you’d still let him push more of your buttons; otherwise, why would you still melt into him?

“i’m your future wife! how could you tell me to fuck off?”

“in his defense, he didn’t know that!” he countered, wiping a stray tear which had involuntarily escaped while he was celebrating his first strike. "he was just a kid who thought the world in general was a mean ol' crone, so he just, you know, returned the energy."

"meeting you, however," setting his yearbooks aside, chris then took the chance to entrap you in his arms, "has changed my view about the world—for the better—and i owe you my life for that."

you've been speculating that there's something going on about chris' voice—is he a siren? or is he actually a highly skilled mage? how is it that his voice alone has never failed to untangle every single jumbled up knots under your skin?

or maybe, just maybe, the problem is you—because unknowingly, somewhere along the way, chris had long become your achilles heels.

"...shut up, christopher."

"aw- look at your ear! they're burning!"

"shut up!"

"heh- i love you too, baby."

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[altheaubade]

‎ ⁎ ‎ ‎ 𓍼 ‎ ‎ ๋ ‎ ◜ &.&. THEA ON INSTAGRAM◞ ‎ ... ‎ ‎

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thea taglist ˒ @puppy-minnie @nettix6 (lmk if you wanna be added!)

[starlostseungmin]

husband!minho

✰ notes: third entry of my husband!skz series and as for who won the poll, it’s minho’s turn!! minor warning: sex is mentioned but nothing happened!! i hope you guys enjoy!! not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

chan （ lee know ） changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

ꔛ

Husband Minho who asked, “Will you be the mother of my three kids?” instead of “Will you marry me?” on one random afternoon when you were both playing with his cats at his parents’ house. It served as his proposal and gave you a jingle ball because he didn’t have a ring with him at that time. 

Husband Minho who used to be a tsundere and nonchalant person but later changed into a fully affectionate bunny the moment he fell for you. 

Husband Minho who got emotional during the wedding day but tried to hold his tears back since it was expected that his friends would tease him later. He gave up eventually and cried when you slow danced with him at the reception. 

Husband Minho who teased you a lot but in a loving way. He tends to be a menace sometimes but it wasn’t bad. Your big baby just loves to play with you. 

Husband Minho who pretends to be annoyed when you ask for a kiss but deep inside he wants to smother you with all the love you deserve. Eventually, he couldn’t keep it to himself so he cuddles you with lots and lots of kisses. 

Husband Minho who spoils you with his five Michelin-star cooking skills and serves you high-quality food. He is the happiest when you compliment him and finish everything on your plate. 

Husband Minho who loves to drag you along when he goes camping and offers to take care of everything while you rest. He’d only ask for minor tasks from you to help him. 

Husband Minho who sends you weird selfies and cat pictures when you’re not together and says he misses you with the kids (his cats). 

Husband Minho who listens to your worries and gives constructive criticisms but at the same time he comforts you with the things you need to feel better. 

Husband Minho who loves to encourage you to do the things you want as long as it would benefit him and it’s not illegal. “The heart knows what it wants,” He said. “But let’s not go to jail shall we?”

Husband Minho who lets you burst out in anger while he stood there listening to everything. He’s not the type to baby you with every time and will be civil when it comes to arguments knowing who is in the right and wrong. 

Husband Minho who will never allow you to sleep unless everything is resolved. He’d be sorry if it was his fault and be the cutest baby bunny that you can’t resist to forgive. This comes along with cuddles and kisses or makeup sex (if you’re both into it). 

Husband Minho whose love languages are acts of service, quality time, and words of affirmation. 

Husband Minho whom you swoon to over and over because of how handsome and cute he is. Never a day you’d miss complimenting him by which he’ll be all red and mushy from being shy. 

Husband Minho who got the interest of touching your butt out of his love and affection. 

Husband Minho who lays on top of you when he sees you lying down on your shared bed the moment he gets home because he’s tired and your presence makes him feel relaxed and secure.  He tends to bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

Husband Minho who is loud and dramatic in the most precious way. 

Husband Minho who never forgets important dates and will throw everything away just to spend time with you. 

Husband Minho who acts like a mother especially when you get sick and is stubborn. 

Husband Minho who is good with kids, and had asked you a few times if you want to have one with him but at the same time he doesn’t want to put pressure on your shoulders. He reassures that he can wait and doesn’t even mind if he spends his lifetime with you alone. 

Husband Minho who feels appreciated and loved when you tell him about the things he means to you and how much you are head over heels for him. 

Husband Minho who gets excited when you give him cat necessities. You wonder that he loves his cats more than you, sometimes but he���d say you were equally receiving his love and affection. 

Husband Minho who doesn’t always say he loves you but rather says that you are his getaway from everything. It’s you and him against the world, nothing could replace you as you are his happy place and favorite person. The one who comes second after his cats and knows his priorities but you get the privilege. 

Husband Minho who loves you to the moon and back. 

Husband Minho who treasures you the most and the one he’d put first before everything. 

Husband Minho whom you’ll love for a lifetime, promised to never hurt, never leave, and never break his heart. 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[forlix]

· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date. 

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it exceptionally funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

jisung turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and jisung look at each other and sigh. jisung takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice: “you might be the sexiest person on earth."

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck. 

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence. 

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips. 

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade. 

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

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