#minho x reader

[valkyrieeeee]

You have an injury | Minho

ᑉ³pairing; Minho x dancer!Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff, angst if you squint

ᑉ³warnings; Reader dealing with an injury, use of pet names

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

The dance studio hums with excitement, the air buzzing with anticipation. You're the lead dancer, and every step you take feels like a triumph, all thanks to your hard work and talent. The big show is just around the corner, and you're more than ready to steal the spotlight.

However, it's been days of pushing your body to the limit, every muscle and bone strained with relentless practice. Your body moves with fluid grace, each step executed with precision and poise. You can feel the eyes of your peers on you, their admiration evident in the way they watch your every move.

As the music reaches its crescendo, you prepare for a particularly challenging sequence. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air as the music begins to swell, filling the studio with its rhythm. With a deep breath, you launch yourself into the air, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you execute each move with perfection. It's as if you were born to dance, your body effortlessly translating the music into motion.

But then, in the midst of a particularly demanding jump, it happens. You land incorrectly, and a searing pain shoots through your ankle.

You feel your body waver, your balance faltering as you struggle to absorb the shock. With a gasp, you collapse to the ground, the impact reverberating through your bones. Tears well in your eyes as the pain radiates from your ankle, pulsing with each beat of your heart. It's a sensation unlike any you've ever experienced. You try to push through the pain, to rise to your feet and continue dancing as if nothing happened. But your body refuses to obey, the agony too overwhelming to ignore. You find yourself trembling, not from exertion, but from the sheer intensity of the pain coursing through your veins.

Your fellow dancers rush to your side, their voices a blur of concern and confusion. They gather around you, their faces etched with worry as they try to assess the situation. But you barely register their presence, your focus consumed by the agony radiating from your ankle.

Tears stream down your cheeks unchecked as you struggle to come to terms with what just happened. The show is just two days away, and you were supposed to be the lead. But now, all of that hangs in the balance, overshadowed by the uncertainty of your injury.

At that moment of vulnerability, you feel a surge of emotions welling up inside you: frustration, fear, anger.

In the midst of your swirling emotions, a gentle hand touches your shoulder, pulling you from the whirlpool of despair. It's one of your fellow dancers, her eyes brimming with compassion.

"Hey, Y/n," she says softly, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Are you hurt? How bad is it? Can you walk?"

With a shaky nod, you try to stand, but the pain shooting through your ankle makes it impossible. You wince, unable to hide the agony etched on your face.

"Hmm... We need to get you to the emergency room," she decides, her voice laced with concern. With her help, you manage to limp out of the studio and into the cool night air, leaning heavily on her for support.

The journey to the hospital is a blur of pain and uncertainty, but your fellow dancer stays by your side the entire time, her presence a comforting one. The harsh fluorescent lights and sterile surroundings offer a stark contrast to the chaos of the dance studio, but in this moment, they feel like a beacon of hope.

As you're wheeled into the emergency room, the sense of urgency is palpable. Nurses and doctors bustle around, their voices a constant murmur as they tend to patients in various states of distress. You're placed on a bed, the crisp white sheets a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around you.

Your fellow dancer stays by your side, her reassuring presence a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty. She holds your hand tightly, offering silent support as you wait for the medical team to assess your injury.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as you lie there, the pain in your ankle a relentless reminder of the ordeal you're facing. Your mind races with worry and fear, each passing second only adding to the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your shoulders.

Then, amidst the chaos of the emergency room, you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You turn to see Minho striding towards you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

Minho's footsteps echo in the sterile corridors of the emergency room as he approaches your bedside, his presence commanding attention despite the chaos around you. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, now hold a mixture of concern and hurt, their intensity piercing through the haze of pain that clouds your mind.

Confusion mingles with the pain as you meet his gaze. You never mentioned a word to him about your injury, not wanting to burden him with your troubles. How could he have found out?

Silently, he gestures to the fellow dancer who had accompanied you, a subtle signal that speaks volumes. With a gentle nod, the dancer understands and quietly slips away, leaving you alone with Minho and the weight of his unspoken emotions.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice is a whisper, but it reverberates in the silent space between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. "I've been worried sick about you."

Your throat constricts with guilt as you meet his gaze, tears welling up in your eyes like a floodgate finally giving way. "I'm sorry, Minho," you whisper, your voice trembling with remorse. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Minho's jaw tightened, the muscles visibly tensing as frustration simmered beneath the surface. His brows furrowed, and his eyes held a mixture of concern and hurt as he struggled to articulate his emotions. "Y/n," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of hurt, "you didn't talk to me all day. I'm left here wondering if I've done something wrong, if you're upset with me." He let out a heavy sigh, his voice slightly trembling with emotion. "I went to bring you food, hoping to see you, only to find chaos in the studio and you nowhere to be found. I had to find out from someone else that you were hurt." His words hung in the air, punctuated by a sense of disappointment and worry. "What's the use of having a phone if you don't even bother to use it?"

You flinch at his words, the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

"Do you understand how scary it is to find out the person you love is hurt and you knew nothing about it? And they don't answer?" There was a rawness in his voice, a vulnerability that he rarely showed, laid bare in that moment of shared concern.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of activity in the emergency room. "I was so caught up in practicing for the dance, I didn't even realize..."

Minho's frustration only seems to intensify at your explanation. "Y/n, your health should come first," he says firmly, his voice laced with concern. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this. What if this injury had been worse? What if you'd collapsed somewhere with no one around to help?"

His words strike a chord deep within you, and you realize the reality of your actions. Guilt washes over you in waves as you realize the recklessness of your behavior.

"I know, Min," you say, your voice trembling with remorse. "I should have been more careful. I know."

Minho's gaze softens slightly at your admission, but the frustration still lingers in his eyes. "Y/n," he said gently, his words carrying the weight of concern, "I need to know that you'll take care of yourself." His hand reached out tentatively, as if to offer comfort, but then recoiled, a gesture mirroring the hesitance in his voice. "You never ask for help, even when you're hurt," he continued, his tone laden with memories of past instances. "Remember last time, when you injured your ribs and I didn't find out until I went to hug you?"

You swallow hard, the memory of that moment flooding back with painful clarity. "I remember," you whisper, the guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders. "But Minho, it's not like I never take care of myself," you explain, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice.

"You've been pushing yourself harder than usual," Minho interjects, his voice tinged with concern. "You know that's going to take a toll on your body. You can't do that, Y/n!" His tone is firm

You flinch involuntarily, his words hitting you like a slap in the face. The sting of his words cuts through the air, leaving a palpable tension between you. For a moment, you're at a loss for words, the weight of his concern bearing down on you.

"I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt because you were too stubborn to ask for help," he says, his voice tinged with worry and frustration.

Tears blur your vision as you lift your gaze to meet Minho's, your heart heavy with guilt and uncertainty. "Minho, I... I'm sorry," you stammer, your voice wavering with emotion. "I never meant to worry you. I just... I didn't want to burden you with my problems."

Your apology hangs in the air, the tension between you palpable.

Minho's expression softens at your words, his anger melting away as he reaches out to gently wipe away your tears. "Y/n, you could never be a burden to me," he murmurs, his voice filled with love and reassurance. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever you're going through, I want to be there for you. Please, don't ever shut me out like this again."

The door to the room opens, and a doctor steps in, breaking the momentary peace. "I'm sorry to interrupt," the doctor says, his tone gentle yet matter-of-fact. "But I have the results of your examination."

You turn your attention to the doctor, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation bubbling within you. "What's the verdict?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

The doctor offers a sympathetic smile. "You've twisted your ankle," he explains, his words confirming your worst fears. "It's not too severe, but you'll need to be on crutches for the next two weeks to give it time to heal properly."

You let out a sigh of relief, grateful that the injury isn't more serious. The doctor continues, his tone becoming more serious. "I also recommend that you avoid putting weight on the injured ankle as much as possible. No driving until you're fully recovered, and be sure to keep it elevated when you're resting."

You nod, committing the doctor's instructions to memory.

With a gentle hand under your elbow, Minho helps you to your feet, supporting you as you steady yourself on your uninjured foot. "Take it slow," he advises, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of your discomfort.

You lean on him heavily as you navigate the corridors of the hospital, grateful for his strength and steadiness. Finally, you reach the exit, the cool night air a welcome relief after the sterile confines of the hospital. Minho guides you to his car, opening the door and helping you settle into the passenger seat with gentle care.

As you arrive home, Minho continues to be by your side, his protective instincts in full force. With gentle hands, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, making sure you're steady every step of the way.

Once inside, Minho leads you to your bedroom, where he encourages you to sit down on the bed. "Stay right here, Y/n," he insists, his voice firm yet gentle. "I'll take care of everything."

You watch with a mixture of amusement and gratitude as Minho bustles around the room, fetching pillows to prop up your injured ankle and adjusting the blankets to make you comfortable. He returns with a tray of food, carefully balancing it in his hands as he sets it down on your lap.

"Dinner is served," Minho announces with a smile, his eyes warm with affection as he watches you eat. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

And just like that, Minho becomes your personal caretaker, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. He brings you meals, helps you with your exercises, and even reads to you when you're feeling restless.

In the quiet moments between meals and exercises, you catch glimpses of a side of Minho that he rarely shows. His usual cool demeanor softens as he tends to your needs, his touch gentle and his voice filled with tenderness.

Despite his outwardly stoic nature, his actions speak volumes about the depth of his love for you. You see it in the way he carefully adjusts the pillows under your head, in the way he sits by your side, holding your hand as you rest.

You watch how he reaches for a tube of muscle cream from the bedside table, his movements deliberate and gentle. With practiced care, he unscrews the cap and squeezes a small amount onto his fingertips.

He begins to apply the cream to your injured ankle, his touch firm yet tender. He starts with slow, circular motions, his fingers working the cream into your skin with a gentle pressure. With each stroke, you can feel the tension in your muscles easing, the warmth of the cream soothing the ache in your ankle.

There's a vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before, a rawness that speaks of the pain he feels seeing you in discomfort. It's as if every ache in your body is mirrored in his heart. And though he may not always express his emotions in words, his actions speak louder than any declaration of love ever could.

"Minho," you say softly, reaching out to touch his hand. "You really don't have to do all this."

His gaze meets yours, a mixture of surprise and concern flickering in his eyes. "But Y/n," he begins, his voice filled with sincerity, "I want to take care of you. You mean everything to me kitten, and seeing you in pain..." He trails off. " I just want to make it better."

You smile softly, but beneath the surface, guilt gnaws at you like a persistent ache. "baby," you continue, your voice laced with concern, "I can't help but feel guilty for taking up so much of your time. You have shows to prepare for, comebacks to plan, dances to choreograph... and the kids need you."

Minho's eyes soften as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "Y/n," he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity, "you are my priority right now. Yes, I have other commitments, but none of them are as important as making sure you're okay."

You feel a lump form in your throat at his words. "But," you protest weakly, "you shouldn't have to sacrifice so much for me."

His gaze meets yours, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Y/n, you're not just 'me.' I can't bear to see you in pain, and I'll do everything in my power to make it better. I'll move mountains to take that pain away because you're more than just important to me; you're everything."

You feel Minho's arms enveloping you in a warm embrace, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions swirling within you. His lips press gently against your forehead, a tender gesture that sends shivers down your spine.

"I wish I could take all the pain away," he murmurs, his voice soft with longing. "I wish I could carry it instead of you."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at his words, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and compassion. "Minho," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion, "just having you here with me... it means everything."

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Despite the pain and uncertainty, you know that with Minho by your side, you can weather any storm.

"I love you," you murmur, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer. "I love you more than words can say."

His hold tightens around you, his heartbeat echoing in sync with yours. "I love you too, kitten" he murmurs, his voice a gentle promise. "More than you'll ever know."

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Stray Kids Fic Recommendations

I think it's clear from the amount of fics I have saved for certain members who my bias is ... anyway I'll make a part 2 when I have more fics to recommend!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

₊˚⊹♡ OT8

₊˚⊹♡ Bangchan

₊˚⊹♡ Lee Know

₊˚⊹♡ Changbin

₊˚⊹♡ Hyunjin

₊˚⊹♡ Han

₊˚⊹♡ Felix

₊˚⊹♡ Seungmin

₊˚⊹♡ Jeongin

[peanutbutterand]

i miss you, i'm sorry; lmh

 in which alcohol and a broken heart prompts you to make a phone call to your ex.

~ Angst with a capital A. 

wc: 1.6K

Reference(s): “I miss you, I’m sorry” written by Grace Abrahams and a line from Notting Hill directed by Roger Michell

~

“I miss you”

The flashing lights seemed to somehow mute the chaotic noise around you. Head hurting, mind overwhelmed, and still, your fingers unconsciously danced across the screen of your phone, typing a number you had deleted months ago.

Some things don’t stay the way they're supposed to. Out of sight, out of mind right? Funny how all logic and rational thinking is suddenly muddled by the denial of a broken heart. 

“y/n.”

If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system, you’d cry at the sound of his voice. Instead, the concern in his tone forced a bittersweet smile to form on your face.

He shouldn’t be worried, he shouldn’t have even answered. But he did. And you hated that you knew he would. Because even in your drunken state, it was so natural for you to go back to him. 

“You promised.” 

You felt pathetic. Clinging onto his promises of forever, even when you fought his declarations towards the end of your relationship. The need to be right overpowering the need to be loved.

It was careless, taking everything you loved and disputing it with cruel words driven by a fixed mindset. And he did the same. Hurt people hurt people, because no one wants to be hurting alone. 

You did your best to move on. You really did. It was easy at first, fueled by anger and pinpointing all the blame of your failing relationship on him was something you did with your head held high. 

And then all of a sudden, your pride became too hard to swallow and all the hate you spewed ricocheted in the forms of longing and regret. 

You often found yourself reminiscing about fights in his apartment and the disappointment that came with broken dishes, just to get a glimpse of him.

Because he was always readily available in your mind, whether it be in the form of heartbreak or not. And the extent to which you would willingly fall back into these moments only resulted in any progress of moving on to slip through your fingers.

“y/n, where are you?”

How do you move on from someone who is so deeply engraved into your mind, someone who has touched every part of you with sweet kisses and gentle hands, someone who starts your thoughts and always ends them.

For these reasons, your doubts and hesitations were not baseless. Because how do you move on from someone you once promised forever to? It almost seems wrong to do so. 

“I don’t know what to do Minho. Everywhere I go leads me back to you. Everything I know brings me back to us.” 

There was so much to say, so much you wanted to tell him. It was desperate and embarrassing, but others might say you were simply in love; that you were just a girl, talking to a boy, asking him to love her. 

“Y/n, please….go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Y/n–”

“Every corner of that fucking house is haunted Minho.” 

It was suffocating. Home was no longer home but a place filled with traces of his presence. Bittersweet reminders of the life that once flourished remained in every room.

His coffee cup in the cupboard, his hoodie tucked away in your drawer, the silly love notes he left embedded into your books, his morning kisses, his laughter, his smile, him. 

He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Even in his absence, he was consuming you. So no, you wouldn’t go home, you couldn’t. Because the definition between home and Minho seemed to blur overtime. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore."

The drunken daze was now fading away, your clouded mind becoming overwhelmed with the sober emotions that flowed through your body, because they were one in the same when you were drunk, just easier to handle in a state of intoxication. 

“I thought you hated me.”

Such a statement was not meant to be laced with the gentleness he evoked, so much so, a certain heaviness clung to your chest. For the reminder of the three words you spewed at him the last time you spoke will forever bring feelings of angst and regret. 

“Minho…”

Some things are better left unsaid. Until the time comes when those things are all you can think about, clouding your judgement and cultivating a narrative of missed opportunities guided by the words “what if”.

You had many. And they creeped up on you, leaving you lost in your thoughts of love that you’ll never be able to live, at least, not with him.

But not was not the time to wallow in your self pity and despair. Not after all the time you had dedicated to pondering over the “what ifs” and certainly not when the person these “what ifs” revolved around was here, listening to you. 

“I was angry and upset and desperate to hurt you. I don’t hate you—I never could. I’m sorry.”

The slow sigh that ran after your words displayed your relief more than you intended. Thinking back to the last time you spoke to him was routine for you.

But this time, instead of being tormented by the hurt laced in the memory of that night, you were now comforted by the fact that your truth was now something he knew.

And you weren’t going to deprive yourself of his, no matter how much it may break you. You were in too deep to consider that now. 

“Do I still make you sick to your stomach?” 

It was his turn to let out an audible sigh. And it seems as though you weren’t the only one reminiscing back to that night; for his response appeared to be nurtured with time and consideration.

“No y/n, you never did. You never will. I didn't mean that. I wish I had ever said those words to you, but I did. I’m sorry.”

It’s one thing to say something. It’s another to mean it. And it felt nice to hear he didn’t. You knew he could never have meant it, but the assurance you experienced upon his confession pulled apart the remaining angst embedded in your memories. You could only hope he felt the same.

It was cold outside. Somehow, your feet carried you out of the stuffy place, the moon illuminating the still street, a complete contradiction to your surroundings a few seconds ago. 

The silence seemed to emphasize your acknowledgement of everything that had happened and was happening. The phone pressed to your ear. The quick beating in your chest. The familiarity of the slow breaths he took as you listened. Your boldness. His patience. 

“I’m sorry I called. I know we said we weren’t talking—”

“I miss you too.”

You almost didn’t catch it. His voice low and quiet, almost as if the statement was a passing thought that had slipped past his tongue. But you caught it, as did your denial, that after all this time, he too missed what once was.

A part of you wished your ears had been deaf to his words. Because the way your hand fell to your chest, the way it felt as though your heart had paused, the way tears immediately lined your waterline, was the same way you recognized exactly how much you missed him.

One step forward and three steps back is the damage his words did. But you started it first, and it was only fair to finish what you started. 

An absent smile lined your lips with tears falling down your face. Your tears were warm against your cold skin and you so badly wanted the warmth to stay.  

“Everything we were scared of happening, happened Minho.”

“Nothing happened in the way we wanted Y/n.”

Your absent smile turned bittersweet, fingers gently grazing your cheek in an attempt to catch the warmth from your eyes. You were right. And he was too. They say that nothing that is meant for you will ever get away, so why did he?

“Is this better for us y/n?”

It’s hard to make peace with something you don't entirely agree with. He hurt you more than anyone else has. But he loved you better than anyone ever did. 

“I don't know. I’m still confused.” 

Your eyes shut, squeezing what was left of your tears out. 

“I do know that I was really happy with you, we were happy together. And we were really good to each other.”

You went into this conversation with hope and uncertainty. It was only normal for that hope and uncertainty to cultivate into doubts and hesitation. He didn’t deserve that. And you didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. Not now. Not ever. 

“But….”

“But we’ve been here before. And I want to love you because I love you, not because I need you— I missed you Minho…..I miss you. I’m sorry.” 

And in an instant, no sound came from his phone. Your voice, gone, as if it were never there.

Gone before he could familiarize himself with the highs and lows of your tone. Gone before he could tell you to not cry, for he recognized the tell tale signs that you were. Gone before he could say everything he wanted to say and more. 

And perhaps that's why he continued to hold the phone to his ear, head falling to the back of his couch as he allowed the words he meant to say to you, the second your name appeared on his phone, break free from his lips.

Barely a mumble, but with his whole heart and all his truth. 

“I still love you, I promise.”

[thefantasyden]

She'll learn

Dom Reader and Minho

Request: Jealous FWB Reader, "let them watch"

Maybe it was unwarranted. He wasn't yours to be jealous over, and you knew that.

You didn't really have time for your rational mind as you watched some peppy blonde cling to his arm, somehow ignoring the various other idols surrounding he in favour of yours.

The remainder of your drink burns your throat as you chugg it, possessed as you slink over to him, prying the girls hands from his arm as you paid no mind to the many set of eyes on you both. You're pressed up behind him, whispering in his ear and squeezing hid hips for a moment before slipping away, smirking over the way he doesn't hesitate to follow you to the other side of the room.

"Why did you do that?"

He frowns, but his hands are reaching for you, a shocked yelp sounding when you grab at him suddenly, pinning him against the will in a room full of strangers. He couldn't deny his arousal as it pressed against your thigh, and you're not sure he would have bothered to as your lips find his neck, switching between sucking angry marks and sinking your teeth in just enough to have his hips bucking against you.

"People are staring!" He whines out between moans, fingertips digging into your hips in his best attempt to keep himself grounded.

He could easily slip out of your grip if he truly wanted to, considering his own strength, but he doesn't. He wants you to be possessive over him. He needs to be yours.

"Let them watch, baby. They need to know."

"Know what?"

His breath hitches as your hand trails down his chest, over his thigh and toward his growing bulge, palming him with a firm pressure.

"That you're all mine."

[arikazu]

torment / Lee know

summary : Lee know seems to love you or it was all just a misunderstanding?

Warning : angst and hurt inspire by my life real events

There was a trail that she could follow.

She was an unwanted child; being the oldest in the family did not mean that everyone respected her or loved her. Her father saw her as a disgrace to the family.

She doesn't seem to remember how she got that scar but her cousin's brother must have given her that scar when she didn't obey his order and rebel against him. Her father didn't favour her and locked her inside the room for two days without food and water.

Have you noticed how y/n's parents treat her? They act like they love her and are her real parents, but something seems off. And guess what? y/n just found a scar on her body that appears to be from her blood. What could it mean?

It's heartbreaking to think that her life was nothing but an illusion, created by her own family. It must have been incredibly difficult to navigate through a world that wasn't truly hers, all while feeling a sense of anger and frustration towards those who were meant to love and support her.

Her sister Hitomi was a loved child.

Her mother would always tell her when she would tie her long black hair in a bun.

"y/n your father does not hate you he just wants you to be independent and responsible"

Did he?

Was she a disgrace to her parents?

She was 20 when she met minho.

Her life seemed to change that night.

She was sitting under the sakura tree. The cherry blossom smell seemed to linger against her nostrils.

The sweet smell of childhood and youngness only reminded him of the day he bumped into her.

She was talking loudly With her friend group when she shouted that OP Jindal was a good university and one of the slim-looking young lads who had dirty blonde hair seemed to be immature and a lot younger than her.

A weird stare at her.

She got a little pissed off at his glasses and she shouted in a little funny voice "What! Why are you staring at me!?" She threw her arms up in the air.

He smiled and said "It's not a good university" 

A little weird way to interact right?

First glares and first smiles were exchanged that day.

She would tell her feelings to him through her eyes and he would understand a thing.

The first thing he noticed about her was the y/n scar which was on her face. That day she looked like a 19-year-old woman and he was a 20-year-old man.

After a good debate of 5 minutes, they exchanged handshakes and names.

"y/n" 

" minho" 

To continue the conversation with her he would tell her about his ex-girlfriend.

"My ex-girlfriend shares the same class as yours Her name is Kimi we just broke up" 

y/n's eyes widened a little at his words because it was the first y/n a stranger was telling her about their breakup.

It's the personal thing about minho and Kimi which happened between them and it is something you won't tell a stranger.

It gave y/n a strange feeling that she could not express a sense of the knot of butterflies flying against her belly.

Even though that young man she met seemed to think about his words.

The way he took her to her library was a secret hideout spot for him only.

It was his safe ship.

It was a special day for her and a memory because he only took her to the library even though he talked with her friend too.

Noaya only took y/n with him.

To that safe ship.

"So what's your life like?"

She was sitting on the couch and he asked her a weird question indeed.

As he looked at her, it was clear that he wanted to know every single thing about her. His eyes seemed to be searching for any clue that would help him understand her better. 

However, as much as he was curious about her, it was also apparent that he was not the kind of person who would love her in a slow, steady way. minho knew that this was something that would haunt her for the rest of her life. 

It was as if her closed heart and coldness were slowly but surely consuming him, leaving him feeling burnt out and drained. 

Despite knowing this, she couldn't help but wonder if he would still stick around, or if he would eventually give up and walk away.

As days passed by the dry leaves of trees were coming back to life. He stocked around her more in her eyes he seemed to be an accomplice to her a friend she needed but to others, it looked like something else.

For her friends he liked her.

For Kimi 

y/n was the only girl he talked to her.

He would often ask her.

"Do you want to go library with me?" 

A secret code so he could steal her away from the crowd of some people who were familiar to her but to Noaya they were strangers as she spent more y/n with him her friends also became strangers to her.

Her friends told her that 

"minho seems to have developed a fondness for you. He always seems to be around you

and he doesn't interact with anyone else. It's as if you're the only one he's interested in. Some people have even noticed that he doesn't greet anyone else but you."

He would always ask her out indirectly.

And she would decline his offer.

# Having a fear of attachment can be an incredibly scary experience. It can feel even more terrifying than facing death itself, especially if you have spent a significant portion of your life feeling isolated and alone. 

When someone new enters your life, you may feel hesitant to open your heart to them. 

You might wonder what will happen if they hurt you, emotionally or physically.

 What if they abandon you just like others have in the past? The thought of being neglected or ignored by someone you've developed feelings for can be incredibly daunting. 

All of these fears can make it difficult to form meaningful connections with others, even when you want to.

And that's what happened.

All of her friends were slowly neglecting her.

And the person whom she found comfort in was slowly distancing himself from her.

She was sitting with him near the couch in these past few days have been hard for her and Kimi has been confronting her about y/n and minho's relationship.

minho was sitting all silent his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked serious.

y/n couldn't quite hear what he was saying, his voice was barely audible. 

But as she strained to listen, she realized that his world must have just shattered. "I am thinking of fixing things with Kimi," he finally uttered. y/n's heart sank as she tried to process what she had just heard.

 "As... a couple?" she asked tentatively, hoping that she had misunderstood. 

But his response confirmed her worst fears. "No, as a friend," he said. "She was my best friend once, and I should fix things with her before we go to university."

"I see yeah since Kimi was your person you should fix things with her" Utanime tried to smile hiding her sadness behind that fake smile that she had mastered in these past few years.

minho expressed his desire to keep in touch with certain individuals at the university, including Nissan and Kimi. He mentioned that he had noticed a lack of enthusiasm from the other students in his coaching class, and thus had only engaged with a select few. y/n listened to minho's concerns with a compassionate ear, nodding in acknowledgement of his situation.

"y/n I ALSO WANT TO BE WITH YOU ONCE WE GO TO UNIVERSITY " 

LIAR: a person who lies to you and makes you believe that after all, you were just a fool in the end.

He said he would be with her till the end.

After resolving the issues between himself and Kimi, he left her stranded and alone, much like how the rain leaves the barren earth waiting for a gentle drizzle to kiss it back to life. She was ignored and not given any attention, as if she was invisible. The worst part was that in the end, she was the one who was blamed for everything that went wrong, even though she had done nothing wrong.

"y/n why are you regretting it now? He liked you first but you were the only one who didn't even spare a glance at him" 

"He tried his best to approach you were the one who used to talk shit about him not only behind his back but to his face also" 

"Isn't it obvious he would choose Kimi over you since you were just the girl he met while Kimi was his best friend and ex-girlfriend"

"y/n you are the other woman" 

In the end, she lost the chance to at least love him.

She loved him because he made her feel loved.

Despite her belief that she was causing him emotional suffering, it was the other way around. He was the one who was tormenting her heart, leaving her in a state of confusion and pain. 

She struggled to understand how she could be so blind to his true feelings, and the realization that she had been mistaken all along only added to her distress. 

[soobnny]

stolen kisses with stray kids — established relationship, extreme fluff, some might be suggestive ? (2.0k words)

moments they steal a kiss & where they do it

chan. during movie night when everyone’s asleep

it’s a little scandalous, they way he reaches for your lips while his friends are asleep during one of your movie nights.

it’s around 2am, and the only reason you’re still awake is because chan’s being extra clingy with the way he squeezes your waist, running his cold hand under your shirt.

how can anyone expect him to fall asleep though? not when you’re so close to him, and he can smell your shampoo, and feel your steady breathing.

“sleepy.” you mumble, grabbing the ends of your shared blanket that jisung had stolen most of hours ago. chan had to excuse himself midway through your third movie to get you a new one.

“hmm.” he hums in response, nuzzling his nose against your hair, hands planting themselves on your bare waist. “is my baby sleepy?”

“mhm.” chan can’t help but grin down at you, disentangling his head from your hair for a moment to look at you—your sleepy smile and drooping eyes. how could he not press his lips on yours when you’re looking at him like that?

it feels like a shot of espresso, and he would’ve gone in for another one had you not fallen asleep, head buried in his neck and arms gripping his shirt.

minho. at the dance practice room while waiting for everyone else to arrive

minho’s arms are immediately locked around your torso the minute you walk into your university’s dance practice room. your boyfriend had rented it out for the evening with his friends to practice their final project, and you’d come with dinner and your support.

“5 minutes.” he whispers with a sinister grin, and you’re about to question what he meant when he goes straight in for your lips. ah, five minutes before his friends get here.

his lips aren’t shy at all. you can feel him growing more desperate as seconds pass, and you don’t know what’s gotten into your boyfriend for him to be kissing you like this, but you don’t exactly have any complaints.

minho kisses up your jaw, pulling your hips closer to his before planting his lips back on yours. and you have to admit, it’s a little attractive to catch a glimpse of the way he’s holding you and the way he’s kissing you from the dance studio’s big fucking mirror.

you don’t even realize how much time had passed. everything felt like a blur with the way your boyfriend was kissing you. but before you know it, there are knocks on the door and minho is breathing heavily against your neck.

he presses one last final kiss on your lips before he’s pulling away from the tight grip he’d placed you in earlier. it’s impressive, the way he immediately switches to a more composed version of himself—unlocking the doors and welcoming his friends inside. the smile on his face is gone, and it makes your face heat up to think that they have no idea what had happened just five minutes before they walked into the studio.

changbin. in the gym room against the lockers

“babe, i have the water bottle you’d left—oh!”

changbin gives you no warning when he kisses you against the lockers of his condominium’s gym. you suppose it’s because he’s the only one there. despite his appearance, your boyfriend is usually shy when it comes to public displays of affection.

it doesn’t help that he has a very visible afterglow after his workout session, sheen of sweat on his arms and forehead, and it really is hard to look away—well, it would’ve been hard if you weren’t so preoccupied with the way he was kissing you. it’s slow, and very very hot because it’s so uncharacteristic of your boyfriend to be kissing you like this where anyone could walk in on you. he lets his lips linger for a little longer than your usual kisses, completely taking away your breath.

when he pulls away, he’s still staring at your lips, and you can see a soft smile playing on his. he sends you another peck on the lips before he’s grabbing at the water bottle in your hand.

“thanks baby.” he downs the water in one chug, arms flexing and playing into the fabric of the top he’s wearing. you’re still against the lockers, where he’d pushed you against earlier, and his free arm is still locking you in place. you feel akin to a schoolgirl, with her crush so close.

the thought of him kissing you again like this has you mentally kicking your feet.

hyunjin. in the art studio’s closet where they keep the supplies

he kisses you in the university’s art studio closet—where they keep the supplies. you’d only meant to help hyunjin clean up, but you find yourself locked between his arms with his lips on yours. maybe it’s something about how your boyfriend is much more romantic when he’s in his artist’s mindset, but he refuses to pull away.

you don’t know he’d spent hours prior trying to paint even just a fraction of how he feels about you on the canvas. you were only able to catch a glimpse of vivid colors, the same that’s staining his hands and clinging to his skin.

hyunjin only pulls away when he accidentally knocks down a stool in the cramped space, pulling away and shyly crinkling his nose. it’s a direct contrast to how rough he’d been, hands roaming every possible inch of your face and neck and waist.

when you step outside, you catch your reflection in the studio’s big studio. the sight makes your cheeks heat up embarrassingly, and hyunjin has to apologize for caking your face with the paint that had been on his hands prior to stealing your lips in that closet.

jisung. at the dorm room while his roommate is away

can someone really blame him? you just looked so kissable with your pouty lips and your furrowed eyebrows. when you’d finally succumbed to studying for the night, jisung wastes no time, catching your lips in his.

he’d give anything to continue pressing his lips into yours for the entirety of his life.

and if not for the rest of his life, then at least for a couple more hours while the sun is still up — and while felix (his roommate) is very much not in their dorm yet.

jisung smiles at you when you pull away—that dumb smile he always gives you when he’s not quite done kissing you yet. he has his hands firmly planted on your hips, and his legs are outstretched so you’re comfortable on his lap.

you have a feeling you’ll leave his dorm with a flushed face and swollen lips. you hope felix isn’t on his way home anytime soon.

felix. while baking seungmin’s birthday cake, everytime jisung exits the kitchen

in his dorm’s mini kitchen while the three of you with jisung bake seungmin’s birthday cake. he only ever does it when his roommate is too distracted with other things like what he should get the younger boy—would a gag gift of a stuffed penis be enough to torment seungmin? you can hear him clearly from the living room, calling out to ask you for advice, but felix stands firm on wanting to kiss you until you can’t breathe.

“felix, stop! jisung might walk in on us.” though you’re telling him to stop, it’s a little hard to convince your boyfriend when you’re giggling and kissing him back.

who could blame felix though? how can he not kiss you when there’s frosting on your lips from decorating the cake? and what better way to clean it than kissing it off?

he has you lifted up on the counter, stood between your legs with his hands on your thighs. you’d shiver once in a while, it can’t be helped when the boy’s running his cold hands up and down your bare skin, hiking your shirt up just a little bit.

and he’s mastered the art of excuses at this point, always having something to say when jisung walks into the kitchen and suspiciously eyes the both of you because why are your lips the same color as the extra frosting.

though, on his hundredth attempt at secretly kissing you, jisung walks right in and immediately screams “my eyes!” as he runs away with his palms covering his eyes.

seungmin. against the bookshelves of the library

“kiss me.” it feels wrong coming out of his lips. your goody two shoes, straight a’s boyfriend, whispering for you to kiss him in the library.

seungmin’s taking advantage of the fact that nobody ever stays at the university’s library past 12am, not when exam seasons are far off. he had dragged you here earlier, something about a project, and with nothing better to do, you’d thought you would accompany him.

you’d expected him to bury his face in his laptop as usual, square glasses on his concentrated face. you didn’t expect to be making out with him against the bookshelves of the library—somewhere by the anatomy section, you don’t even remember anymore.

it’s like he prepared for this too, knowing exactly where you won’t be caught. he has you between his arms, and he ghosts your face terribly close to his.

it really isn’t difficult to admit that seungmin is wildly attractive like this. while you loved your nerdy boyfriend, something about him with his messy hair and his eyeglasses discarded has you breathing erratically.

his lips immediately catch yours when you lean forward to kiss him. it’s a little messy, but you give into it, and into his tongue that’s swiping on your bottom lip. you don’t know what had warranted this, but it definitely isn’t unwelcomed.

you only pull away when you hear the librarian surveying the lines of shelves, noticing that you and seungmin had been gone a little too long. it really isn’t that hard to find a book.

when you come back to your corner table, seungmin doesn’t say anything. his glasses are back on his frame, but it’s hard to miss his smirk and the way he’s running his tongue over his lips once in a while.

jeongin. under the school’s staircase in between class

jeongin loves to steal kisses in between classes. he’d kiss you anywhere, behind your department’s building, inside an empty classroom, anywhere with no prying eyes.

today, it’s under your school’s staircase. he kisses you sweetly, almost romantic. the kind of kiss that tells you he misses you despite it only being a few hours since you last saw each other.

he kisses you over and over in between quiet conversation about how your class went—how was that quiz you had? was it a boring one? he loves listening to you talk, and he loves interrupting you once in a while to place a short peck on your lips. it’s usually when you say your ‘w’s or any letter that puckers your lips up.

similarly, you ask him questions about his class—was his teacher a little less shitty today? did he finish that group project he’d spent many late hours on? what’s on his mind and why is he looking at you like that?

“you.” he says with a smug smile, and it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. you stare at each other for a while, but jeongin can only go so long without your lips on his so he grabs your chin with his fingers and pulls you gently to place his lips on yours one last time.

the last kisses always last longer, when he knows he’s running out of time, and your next class is looming around the corner. and your boyfriend always knows how to make it count.

“see you on your next break, babe.”

[elllisaaa]

skz and their kinks

-> pairing : skz x fem!reader

-> words count : 5.8k

-> genre : pure smut, what kinks i think the skz members have

-> warnings : dirty talk, swearing, use of 'slut', 'whore', 'doll', 'babygirl', 'kitten', 'princess', 'angel', 'good boy' and 'fucktoy', rough sex, spanking, impact play, dacraphylia, degradation kink, marking, biting, oral (m. and f. receiving), teasing, overstimulation, edging, thigh riding, lingerie, praise kink, size kink, public/semi-public sex, bondage, shibari, voice kink, fingering, dry humping, breeding kink, creampie, choking (giving and receiving), sex toys, hair pulling, begging, pain kink.

+ the way i'm depicting skz members does not represent them, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist

BANGCHAN

DIRTY TALK

→ look at him flirting and teasing stays all the time, it's obvious he'll like to do the same with you in the bedroom. he loves seeing you squirm and whine because of his words only, enjoying how his voice alone can make you wither and beg. kinda fuel his ego too, how he just needs to tell you you're a whore - his whore - to get you on your knees. he sometimes adds a touch of degradation to the mix, smirking at himself when you clench around him tighter. 

"my needy little slut, can't even wait one hour for me to finish my work you have to touch yourself. are you that desperate for my cock doll ?"

→ he also loves to explain all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to have you. and that reduces you to a babbling mess every time, anticipating the pleasure you know you’re going to receive. chan loves to know that he can almost bring you to an orgasm without even touching you and just by reminding you how good he can make you feel. 

"and then, i'm going to fuck you until the only thing you remember is my name. got it little whore ?"

SPANKING

→ part of the hard!dom channie agenda and i'm always here for it. like yes, he can be the best service!dom ever, but piss him off a little too much and it's over for you. he'll bend you over the armrest of the couch, flipping up your cute little skirt just to find your panties already soaked in your arousal. i swear he’ll let out the most sinful groans at the view.

"bet you got on my fucking nerves just for me to punish you doll, didn't you ?"

→ he wasn't waiting for an answer, and you figured it out as he landed his hand for the first time on your ass, the sound echoing through the room along with your broken moans. you loved the burn on your cheeks, loved feeling chan's large figure standing behind you like a silent threat. and he loved how your skin was getting more and more sensitive and red as he spanked you a couple more times, reminding you every now and then to follow his orders.

"you're losing count again babygirl. don't forget what I said. ten and I'll let you get my cock, understood ?"

MIRROR SEX

→ chan is a simp for your body. literally praises you every time he gets to admire you. and if you're ever insecure about any parts of you, he'll be there to compliment them specifically and make you feel better about your complex. and one of his favourite way of showing you how much he loves every one of your curves is to fuck you in front of a mirror. repeating over and over how beautiful and perfect you are while he got you moaning his name.

"- look at you baby. I said look at you. that's it babygirl. see, you take me so well. fuck... it's like you were made for me."

→ and all you could do was agreeing with him. he'll force you to repeat his words, or else, he'll stop and leave you crying for his cock until you said what he wanted. he also loves to see your teary eyes through the reflection of the mirror, desperation pouring out of them. loves to make you see how much of an effect you have on him too. 

"you're so perfect, you're going to make me cum."

LEE MINHO

DACRAPHYLIA

→ he's very passionate when it comes to sex. and that means he often gets a little rough (not that you're complaining), but he doesn't always realize that it may be too much for you, especially at the start of your relationship. that's how you ended up with tears rolling down your cheeks, with minho between your legs, far too lost in the taste of your sweet cunt to carefully listen to you. only when you sobbed did he notice your watery eyes and ragged breathing. you thought that would deter him, but that's when he clearly discovered a new kink of his.

"is that already too much for you kitten ? can't wait to watch how you'll cry for my cock then."

→ and you see that grin of his ? yeah, that's definitely how he's looking at you everytime you start crying for him. from now on, minho discovered a new goal whenever the two of you fuck : make those tears spill out from your beautiful eyes again and again. hearing your broken sobs makes him groan louder every time, it’s like music. minho would be so cocky about it, cooing at you everytime he sees tears gathering in your eyes. 

“are you crying again kitten ? so cute, my little crybaby cannot handle being fucked that good.”

MARKING

→ for me, minho is not jealous that easily, but he is really possessive, only proud to show off that you’re his. always has his hands on you when you’re out with him. so another way of signaling that you’re taken is by littering your whole body with marks. and we all know that he loves teasing, so it’ll be a good way to tease you to slowly suck and kiss every inch of your body. he’ll get you whining before he even reaches your pussy.

“purple really is your color baby, you’re so pretty like this…”

→ also discovered that he kinda loves having your marks on him too. for example, one time you kissed his cheeks before going out with your friends and left a lipstick stain on his skin. minho couldn’t help but smile to himself when he saw that in the mirror. also very cocky about waking up with the imprint of your nails on his back or to hickeys covering his neck, he wouldn’t resist the urge to make snarky remarks (but really, he’s so proud of them, don’t stop doing that).

“i’ll have to mark you again for us to match, what do you think ?"

OVERSTIMULATION

→ goes with dacryphilia because that’s the easiest way to get tears from you, and also just loves to see you fall apart under his touch. minho has pretty hands and he knows how to use them to make you cum at least three times before he even fucks you. and when he finally does put it in, you’re so tight he has to restrain himself from blowing too fast. he also loves how shameless you become after the first two orgasms, moaning out loud and dirty talking. 

“you’re so nasty baby, it’s so fucking hot.”

→ minho would love how sensitive you are when he overstimulates you with his tongue,

gripping his hair tightly when it becomes too much. you could feel his smile against your cunt while he got you to your climax again and again, and he would hold your shaking thighs so hard, wanting nothing more than to bury himself deep inside of you. would definitely always make you cum for the last time on his cock.

“come on kitten, i know you can give me one more.”

SEO CHANGBIN

THIGH RIDING

→ have you seen this man's thighs ??? of course you’ll want to ride them, it’s like the first thing you’ll fantasize about doing with him. it’ll happen for the first during one of your makeout sessions, you straddling his lap and unconsciously grinding against him, whining into his mouth. since then, he’ll push you down on his thigh all the time, watching you mesmerized as you ride it. he could probably come just from the lustful sight in front of his eyes, gripping your hips but not doing anything to guide you because he’s too lost into his contemplation.

“you’re beautiful baby… shit, how did i get so lucky ?”

→ after a while, he’ll start using that as a punishment : forcing you to ride his thigh until yours gave out, making you cry but not fucking you until you came all over him. i feel like he would love to make you ride his clothed thigh as much as his skin. on the one hand, seeing your arousal soaking his jeans makes him go feral, but on the other hand, the feeling of your wet cunt on his bare skin is so good too. either way, he’s got you trembling on top of him before he gets you shaking underneath him.

“that’s it, make a mess on my thigh… and then i’ll let you make a mess on my cock.”

LINGERIE

→ your body is literally a work of art in his eyes. let me tell you the first time he saw you naked, his jaw hit the floor. and to this day, he’s not immune yet to the effect you have on him. usually, changbin doesn’t really care about what underwear you’re wearing, but that one time you welcomed him from work in that red lingerie set, something inside of him switched. that night, he fucked you on the kitchen counter, in the shower and again in your bedroom. that’s the easiest way to drive changbin insane.

“you’re so fucking sexy, and that’s all for me ?”

→ he particularly loves how the lacy one's compliment perfectly every one of your curves, and how different certain colors makes you look like. he adores when you wear red, black or dark green, and how slutty you seem to be. he’ll happily let you ride him, with his face buried in your breast (he’s a boob guy). but he also has a thing for you wearing white and pastel colors, and how innocent it makes you look. it gives changbin an urge to corrupt you, make you go down on your knees for him and take his cock in your mouth. also, if you ever bring him with you to go buy new lingerie sets, don’t get surprised if you end up being fucked in the dressing room, because this man cannot contain himself when you ask him if this or that looks good on you when you’re simply a goddess to him.

“of course you look good baby, you’re stunning… makes me want to fuck you right now.”

SIZE KINK

→ changbin is buff, that’s a fact (and he’s hot), he knows it and you know it too, and that turns you on a lot. he loves when you throw yourself at him whenever he comes back all sweaty from the gym, unable to resist the urge to touch him when he looks so good. it was your kink at first, but it grew on him after a while. and now he gets a boner everytime he takes you to the gym with him and you lift so light weights compared to him, or when he sees your tiny figure besides his huge one in the mirror. changbin has definitely fucked you more than once in the changing room.

“your little cunt is so tight baby… fuck ! gonna fill you up so good…”

→ another thing that drives him crazy is how small you look underneath him, when he fucks you so roughly he thinks he’ll split you in half. but all you do is ask for more : more of his big cock forming a bulge in your abdomen, more of his big hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re unable to move, more of his big muscles tensing up when he holds you down. and he always gives you all of that without any hesitation because he really just wants to please you. he’ll place his hand on the bulge that formed in your tummy and press down on it, loving how you moan louder every time. 

“see how big i am baby ? your pussy so tiny i can feel myself…”

HWANG HYUNJIN

BONDAGE / SHIBARI

→ he would love to tie your hands to the bed, usually with pretty ribbons or ropes with a color that contrasts with your skin tone. don’t mistake him, he loves the way you’re always gripping his hair or clawing your hands at any part of his body you can reach, but to have you unable to move underneath him excites him to no extent. then, hyunjin has all the time in the world to explore your body how he likes it : licking, kissing, touching every part of you until he remembers every one of your features. 

“just let me spoil you princess.”

→ and i think he would also love shibari, because of how artistic it looks. hyunjin’s creativity takes a new turn when he learns new ways to tie up your body. being the gentleman he is, he would always make sure that the knots are not too tight. but when he starts fucking you, he’s using the ropes as a leverage, especially if he’s having his way with you from behind. also loves to tug on them as he’s eating you out. and he definitely grins when he sees the red marks it left on your skin.

“so beautiful, all tied up for me like that… you’re going to let me use you how i want now ?”

VOICE KINK

→ he drinks up all the little noises you make when he’s touching you in any way, it’s like music to his ears. at first, you were too shy to let him hear your moans, but after he told you how much he loved them, it became a concert. every sound coming out of your mouth goes directly to his cock, especially when you whine his name and ask him for more. and if you ever start to whisper something in his ear before going down on him, bet that he’s a babbling mess under your hands in the next seconds. if you ever tried to silence your voice, he would immediately restrain you.

“no, no, no, princess ! don’t do that, let me hear you, please ?”

→ hyunjin is also fond of his own voice. but that’s something he’s ashamed of, and would never talk about if you don’t bring it up yourself. it probably started when he realized how he cummed quicker when he let himself be loud. and it goes on from there. he adores to hear your mixed moans and whimpers, ensuring him that you’re both equally desperate for each other. he’s not as slick as he thinks though, because you clearly noticed how he couldn’t stop himself from speeding his thrusts when he made you gag on his fingers to hear just his own noises.

“ah… fuck ! angel, your voice so sexy… i could cum just by listening to you.”

DRY HUMPING

→ i’m a firm believer that hyunjin is one of the most passionate kissers out of all the members. his plump lips are all i need to state that. so don’t be surprised if every one of his kisses almost always ends up in a full makeout session. he doesn’t care if there’s people around you or not : if he wants to kiss you, he will. that being said, he would 100% love to have you straddling his lap while devouring your mouth, the most lovesick eyes diving in yours everytime you pull out to breath. he’s obviously hard the moment his lips touch yours, and he doesn’t stop you when you start grinding on him. it feels so good even with all your clothes still on.

“don’t stop princess, you’re making me feel amazing.”

→ if for some person, it’s simply foreplay, for him, it’s just as good as fucking you. he doesn’t know if it’s the little rush of shame he feels everytime you make him cum in his pants, or how turned on he gets again just from seeing the wet trail you left on his clothes, but he finds himself craving this feeling. with you on top of him, grabbing his hair and kissing his neck, and the possibility for him to grab your ass and listen to your pretty moans of his name, there’s now way he’ll deny you when you start unconsciously grinding down on him. hyunjin also loves how intimate it feels, with your bodies so close, limbs tangled together and whining into each other's mouths. 

“god, i can feel how wet you are through my jeans…”

HAN JISUNG

BREEDING KINK

→ definitely the type of guy who needs a minute or two to compose himself everytime he pushes his cock into you or else he’ll blow immediately. so let me tell you that the first time he had fucked you raw, he had not been able to control himself and almost immediately spilled his load into you. when he pulled out and saw his cum leaking out of your sweet cunt, that’s where his breeding kink started. han doesn’t want kids, or at least, not now - and he’s always been very cautious with condoms and your contraception. but after that, all he could think about was filling you up with his seed until you couldn’t take it anymore. the idea of seeing you pregnant doesn’t even seem appealing right now. no. it’s just the thought of his cum inside of you that was driving him crazy.

“ah baby you’re dripping from my cum, so full… does it feel good ?”

→ i’m always here for pussydrunk!jisung so i think he’d kinda love to overstimulate himself after he had already come multiple times, still thrusting inside of you just to see his cum spill outside of your cunt. jisung would also be so vocal and whiny when he’s releasing inside of you - well, he normally is pretty loud, but even more so in this situation. his moans are always overpowering yours and he can’t shut up about how good you’re squeezing him and how bad he wants to paint your walls white. 

“fuck… b-baby your pussy s-so good, you feel so good ! please let me cum inside… please…”

PRAISE KINK

→ he needs to know that he’s doing good. well, he can almost always say by how vocal you are that you appreciate his actions. but he wants to hear it, wants to hear you call him a good boy, or tell him that he’s making you feel good. it’s unmistakable as he moans loudly whenever you do it, becoming a babbling mess every time a praise leaves your mouth. han especially loves it if you purposely do it just before he cums : he gets a rush of adrenaline that makes his orgasm ten times better.

“do you like that ? am i making you feel good ? please tell me baby…”

→ this guy is 100% a switch, and when you take control, he’s especially reactive to every praise that leaves your mouth. but he also knows that you’re going to make him work for that. honestly, that’s not even a punishment for him because he could spend hours between your thighs. that’s only after coaxing at least three orgasms out of you that you finally comply to ride him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as soon as you sink down on his cock. 

“tell me i’ve been good… ah ! yes ! yes i’m your good boy, only yours !”

CHOKING (RECEIVING)

→ jisung never knew this was one of his kinks before meeting you. well, that’s a bit of lie. he actually discovered it when stumbling on a particular video when watching porn. he tried it, just to test the water, and he was so ashamed of how fast he came with his hand squeezing his throat that he never really authorized himself to do it again. he felt silly, and he didn’t want to scare you off. however, soon into your relationship, you asked him to try something. he was so surprised when your hand settled on his neck he thought he was dreaming, hips jolting upwards in your cunt when you pressed down, restricting his breath. and if you do it while sitting on his face, it really is over for him. 

“oh my god… don’t stop please, squeeze harder, ah ! y/n…”

→ even when he’s domming, he just wants your hand around his throat. he’ll fuck you so hard if you do it, pounding into you and gripping you so tightly you find the imprints of his hands on you even three days after. he’s so weak everytime you touch the sensitive skin of his neck, but that also fuels him to ruin you, talking non-stop to let you know how good you’re making him feel, and how much he loves your body. he makes you cum over and over again until you’re both dripping from your arousal. 

“look at you y/n, you’re supposed to be the one choking me but you’re literally crying out my name. ironic isn’t it ? shh, don’t say anything, i’ll make sure you only remember my name by the end of the night.”

LEE FELIX

BITING

→ it would start innocently, like felix biting you playfully - just another way to show his affection towards you. and you love it so much, it reminds you how appreciated you are. but one day, you decide to bite him back, and since you were nuzzled against him, you go for his neck, your teeth gently nibbling at the soft skin. you don’t expect him to moan, nor does he. the vivid blush on his cheeks would be so cute when you asked him if he wanted you to do it again. and when he nobbed, he found his body littered in bite marks in no time. 

“shit angel ! please don’t stop… i love seeing your marks all over me”

→ felix knows that it’s a little risky, because these bite marks could be seen by anyone if his shirt lifts a little too much, but he’s too thrilled by the idea of retracing the pathway of your mouth on his body in the mirror. though, all the members already saw one or two imprints of your teeth on his skin, laughing and saying you were a vampire. felix would laugh it off, but deep down, he wants you to leave even more of them. it gives him the feeling that he’s completely yours, that he’s at your disposal whenever you need him, but he keeps that to himself for now.

“keep biting me, make me yours angel.”

SEX TOYS

→ he would do anything to please you, like really anything. and he also loves so much to make you fall apart under him, loves to hear you moan freely and see your beautiful glossy eyes. that’s why i think he would introduce you to sex toys. because even if he loves to satisfy you with his fingers and tongue, he wants to show you other forms of bliss. he’ll buy a selection of different types of toys, explain to you how to use the ones you don’t know, and then, describing how he plans on using them on you. 

“and when you’ll be wet enough, i’ll make you fuck yourself on that dildo until you cum again.”

→ as much as i see felix as a sub, i can also picture him as a really mean!dom if he’s particularly stressed or worn out. will ask you to stay still while he overstimulates you again and again with all sorts of toys. on other days, he’ll edge you to tears, but that’s really rare. most of the time, he’s really gentle and careful. i think he’d also be really into training you to take bigger dildos everytime, spreading you out enough for him to just slip his cock into you with ease. 

“your pussy looks so pretty like that, so full…”

DEGRADATION

→ i’ve already said that but sub!felix lives in my mind rent free everyday. and he would fall in love with you again if you started to degrade him. he loves it when you’re domming him, pushing his head between your thighs and riding his face shamelessly, and telling him how useless he is, how he’s just a fucktoy to you, only here to please you when you need it. also, please ride him while whispering in his ears that you only want him for his cock and he’ll go crazy. 

“yes ! i’m just a fucktoy, i’m your fucktoy !”

→ even when he’s on top, fucking into you at a sloppy pace, he’ll love to hear your mean words in between your contained moans. he knows this is only an act, and he loves it, but he’ll need a really good aftercare. felix becomes all clingy (in the best way possible), just wanting to be smothered in kisses and affirmation words of how good he did. he’s also (secretly) a sucker for you murmuring nasty words in his ears while both of you are with other person. expect a very passionate makeout session in his car, because he can’t wait to go home and would love it even more if you called him a slut for it.

“sorry, sorry, but you’re too hot i couldn’t wait…”

KIM SEUNGMIN

CHOKING (GIVING)

→ have you seen his hands ? of course you want them wrapped up around your throat, and that’s not like he doesn’t love it himself. when he’s fucking you in missionary, expect his hand to settle on your neck very quickly, squeezing lightly at first, just to make it a little harder to breathe. and then he would really apply pressure, making you dizzy with the lack of oxygen and teasing you for being a whimpering mess every time he did so. would also love to run his fingers along your throat and neck every now and then, smirking when he sees you shiver at how sensitive you are.

“my hand around your throat is all you need to cum huh ?”

→ he would love to make you beg for him to choke you out. and bet that he would make you work for it too. seungmin is either going to overstimulate you to death and touch you everywhere, or not touch you at all and make you touch yourself until you can’t take it anymore. either way, it’s not until you beg him that he’ll indulge and wrap his hand around your neck. adores to have you on your knees and fuck your throat before he squeezes it to force you up and finally choke you out properly. also likes to hear how hoarse your voice is after, and how broken your moans sounds.

“instead, i’m going to fuck your throat first. be good and take it, and you’ll get what you want.”

EDGING

→ most of the time, seungmin wouldn’t be mean to you. as long as you didn’t disobey, he would not keep things that you loved away from you. but one time, when you really got on his nerves, he decided to have you crying under him and not let you cum. yes, he touched you like you were asking him to for hours, but that was not enough, seungmin purposely stopping just as you were about to reach your climax. and he loved how tight you were getting every time he ruined another of your orgasms, relishing in the way you cried out every time he did stopped one more time.

“i don’t know why you’re complaining little brat, i’m fucking you just like you asked me to.”

→ one of the things he loves the most about edging you is how shameless you become as he ruins your orgasms again and again. after the third one, you start begging him to let you cum, a delightful sound if you asked him. and if he kept going for a little few more, you would start to moan loudly, to fuck yourself onto his hand or cock, to scratch his forearms with your nails, in a vain attempt of getting him to keep moving his fingers inside of you. he loves that he can get you to such a desperate state so easily. and watching you as you finally release all over him and the sheets, a litany of “thank you” leaving your lips, is certainly one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

“not yet baby, i know you can handle one more, and after i’ll let you cum. just one more.

HAIR PULLING

→ of course this little tease would love to pull your hair whenever he can. i can picture him dragging you by your hair to the bed if you’ve pissed him off, or using them as a leverage to fuck your throat. his grip will be more loose when he’s in a good mood, but if you’ve been bad and disobeyed him, anything coming near to tenderness would disappear (and you love it). he would like to have you from behind for that one reason, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail to keep you from silencing your moan in the pillow.

“don’t act like that’s not exactly what you wanted brat, i’ll make you remember how much of a slut you are.”

→ and i think he would also adore you tugging at his roots when he’s going down on you, letting out a groan every time you do so. on a softer note, he’s a sucker for you scratching his scalp gently and running your hands through his hair. so it’s no wonder that he loves it too when you’re more rough. he’ll let you pull his hair for a second, biting his lips, before pulling at yours and making you moan loudly, a smirk spreading on his face. would call you out and pretend to punish you for doing that but really it makes him cum so much harder, but you don’t tell him that you noticed and neither that you do it on purpose. 

“don’t do that again unless you want me to ruin your tight little cunt.”

YANG JEONGIN

PUBLIC / SEMI-PUBLIC SEX

→ he would certainly be too embarrassed to talk about it to you in the first place, but you would catch on the way he always has his hands on you whenever you’re out with friends, or even if you’re alone. he would put his arm around your shoulder, his hand on your thigh to squeeze it gently from time to time, sometimes letting his fingers creep up a little higher. but it never got further than those lingering touches that made you wonder if he would love to fuck you in the bathroom of the restaurant. until it happened one day, during a dinner with the other members, after not seeing each other for almost a week, he would bend you over the counter of the toilet, making you watch yourself in the mirror as he pounded into you.

“you know what that dress does to me, don’t you ? you just wanted everyone to hear how much of a slut you are for me…”

→ and since then, it almost became a challenge between the two of you to fuck in the most unusual locations. what really got him going was the thought of not only someone hearing how good he was making you feel, but also to see how much of a mess he made out of you every time. he wanted everyone to witness this, wanted them to only be able to envy you because they could never have what you had, never be fucked like he was fucking you. and he’s definitely eager to make you scream particularly loud when you come to the dorms and that the others are here too, turned on by the fact that they could be hearing all the noises you were making.

“no, no, no baby, don’t cover your mouth, i want them to know how good i’m making you feel.”

BEGGING

→ jeongin is a sucker for all the noises you make, so don’t even try to cover your mouth or silence them. he would also enjoy to ask you question while he’s fucking you, just for the pleasure of hearing you struggle to answer to him, interrupted by whines and moans every now and then. but what makes him go feral is when you beg for him. sometimes, he would not force it out of you, you would simply start to beg him for more, or to go faster. and that’s such a turn on for him, because he takes pride in the fact that he’s making you feel as crazy as he is. 

“you don’t need to beg for that honey, you’re gonna get it.”

→ but at other times, he would make you work for it and he would absolutely love to see you fall apart under him. jeongin would only put one finger inside of you, not enough to make you cum but certainly enough to drive you insane and beg him to add another one. or he would fuck into you at an agonisingly slow pace, pinning your hips down to prevent you from fucking yourself faster on his cock. and he would not be satisfied until you’re crying for him, pleas falling from your lips non-stop. he feels so powerful, it’s as if you’re helpless and that only him can help you. and well, he kinda is because he has certainly ruined you for any other man. 

“you want me to fuck you ? beg for it. beg for it and i’ll think about it.”

PAIN KINK

→ i’ll never shut up about this one, because he definitely loves feeling pain during sex. first and foremost, pull his hair. he would let out the most sinful whimpers if you did. he also loves it when you tug not so gently at them when you two are making out, it makes him hard immediately. i think he also has a thing for scratches. like, scratch his back with your nails all you want, it will only make him go harder on you. he adores how the marks you left burn the next day, and how beautiful it looks in the mirror. it's like you claiming him as yours, and the delicious sting of pain when you’re sinking your nails into his skin makes him cum so much harder.

“fuck baby, i love it so much when you’re rough.”

→ also, even if he knows that he likes pain, he doesn’t know to what extent, and he would be glad to explore all the aspects of his kink with you. he would be down to try a lot of things, and he would also encourage you to bring your own ideas. that’s how he discovered how much he loved it when you slapped him. you were riding him, and he couldn’t stop being cocky about how much you loved his cock, and how whiny you were. the thought crossed your mind, and without much reflection, you landed your hand on his cheek. jeongin left out a noise between surprise and pleasure before asking to do it again, and again.

“slap me again, please… it hurts so good baby.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

skz taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@minnies-babie @binwons @yoongles2025 @thicccurls

[daaawnnn]

maybe, i like you

skz reaction: request - Hii I loved your post I was wondering if u could do a fake texts “them finding out from another member that u have a crush on them” thankyou and have a good day💕💕

pairing: bsf!skz x gn!reader

warnings: none?

©daaawnnn

reblogs are appreciated!

[gimmeurtmi]

slow mode — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, cockwarming, a lil masturbation, stressed reader, use of “bunny”, “baby,”, minho being ambidextrous in a hot way. this was supposed to be dirty but it’s mushy as fuck and not even that sexy. if you let an ace write smut don’t be surprised when that happens.

inspo: minho’s bubble messages and recent academic overwhelm

notes: can this be classed as my valentine’s day fic? here it is anyway. the title is a reference to sunshine which is my go to destress song. to anyone who relates to reader’s situation, may all your stresses be lighter from today my lovies 🩵

{ wc: 2003 }

you arrived home after another long day, one of many—maybe too many—and as soon as you put your things down and got rid of your shoes you walked over to the sofa, pouting at your boyfriend.

“oh, come here,” he said, putting his laptop away and opening his arms wide.

you crashed down on the soft sofa, head rolling onto minho’s thick thighs.

“how was it?” he asked, sympathetically. you rolled out of bed early, so early even minho wasn’t awake yet, and the sun had set hours before you’ve arrived back home.

he knew how hard things have been lately.

between all your work and deadlines and commitments, minho could see the stress was getting to you. minho could always tell.

“so many things to do,” you mumbled into his lap.

“i know. here,” he said, grabbing your arms and moving you to where he wanted you to be. he manoeuvred your thighs, placing them on either side of his lap and tucked your head into his warm chest. you sighed.

“bunny,” he cooed, his hand sinking into your hair. he slowly scratched at your scalp and quickly a warmth settled into your bones. you leaned further into it, further into him, and nuzzled your head against his chest.

minho wanted to ask you what else you had to do, what he could do to help, but the way your body fell pliant against his made him think maybe now all you needed was his fingers in your hair and his arm secured safely around your waist. he was right.

the soft glide of his blunt nails against the root of your hair, and the warmth radiating from his body—all of it enough to slowly melt away your stress. it was there, you knew the deadlines were coming, but for now all you could feel was the floaty feeling from minho playing with your hair and knowing you were there, in his arms, where it was safe.

maybe you accidentally deleted a three page essay you needed to hand in the next day or maybe your boss had a go at you or maybe your phone stopped working in the middle of your presentation and your notes were gone. but all of that didn’t matter now that it was over, now that you forgotten it completely, and now that your present was filled with lee minho.

“min?” you asked softly, after however many minutes passed.

he hummed underneath you, the vibrations soft against your cheek.

“why are you hard?”

minho chuckled awkwardly, slightly shifting underneath you.

“i was reading something before you got here,” he mumbled into your hair before planting a soft kiss on the locks.

“oh?” you lift your head up, eyes peering up at him. “what was it?”

“best positions to surprise your partner with this valentine’s day,” he recites the article headline. his ears change into a soft pink—it’s one of your favourite colours.

you giggle softly, straighting up to be eye levelled with him.

“and what did you find?”

“it wasn’t anything new,” he says, hand softly rubbing up and down your back, “but i was thinking of you doing them and…” he spares a small glance at his crotch.

at that you laugh loudly before tucking your head into his neck.

you breathe in softly, slowly, following the rise and fall of minho’s chest while his warm scent takes over you. you kiss his neck with a small peck.

“maybe i can help you?”

“bunny,” he rubs against your scalp, “you should be resting after a long day. another long day.”

“but min, i—“

“—did you even eat today?”

“of course! i ate the lunch you prepared yesterday and a few of us grabbed some food before the meeting. don’t worry,”

“good job,” he nods, resuming his soft scratching. you lean into it instantly. “i don’t want you straining your body too much. it needs rest.”

“i am resting,” you mumbled stubbornly. “it’s just i also want you inside me.”

the last part was quiet, defeated almost, and minho smiled against your forehead before peppering a few small kisses on your skin.

his other hand left your back and you felt him fiddling around near your thighs, before he softly told you to lean up. you silently followed his orders, looking down to find he pushed his sweats and boxers down to his knees.

you slowly sat back down on his bare thighs—but didn’t reach out to him. perhaps he was right, you were too tired to even move forward.

minho kept your head pressed into his neck, his ability to control both his hand and his dancer coordination proved exceptionally useful. he kept scratching your head, moving up and down and occasionally pressing softly into the back of your neck where most of your stress lived.

with his other hand, he stroked himself. once you realised what he was doing, you started leaving a few open mouthed kisses on his skin, kissing his pulse point and beneath his jaw.

“you need to prep too, bunny,” he said softly, voice breathy as it vibrated against your lips. “if you still want to.”

“i want,” you said quickly, tucking your hand into your pants and rubbing slowly. you were surprised to find just how wet you were, but then again, minho was right next to you stroking himself.

you needed him inside you.

you knew the prep you gave yourself probably wasn’t enough, but you needed him—you needed his warmth and his closeness and so you quickly lifted yourself up and rid yourself of your pants and underwear.

minho didn’t waste any more time, lining himself up to your entrance and guiding you down with a hand on your hip.

the pair of you sighed softly and you slowly and carefully sunk all the way down.

the stretch was more prominent than usual, but it was nice. so nice, and you let your eyes softly close at the fullness of having him inside you.

“there, baby,” he smiled at you, running his hands up and down your arms. he squeezed them softly before moving his hands to your back, rubbing up and down.

you didn’t realise how sore your whole body felt from the stress of everything the past few days had brought you, and you instantly relaxed.

“you’ve been working hard,” he said softly, nodding slightly as you lean your head back onto his chest. “you’ve done well, baby. so well.”

you melt at the praise, body weight pressed entirely into minho’s strong body as your mind slowly starts clearing up.

you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself even closer to minho as his arms both wrap around your back.

normally, you would be begging minho to start moving, to fuck you fast like he does when you’re stressed and need to forget the world around you. sometimes, he goes slow, when you need to be reminded of just how important you are to him. but now, he isn’t moving at all. and now, you think that’s exactly what you need. minho always knows.

you close your eyes, listening to the steady and reliable thumping of minho’s heart.

all other thoughts fade away. it’s nothing but minho, his smell and his warmth and his arms solid and strong around you. just minho.

———

your eyes are heavy, you must’ve fallen asleep as your brain feels empty and vague about the last few minutes. you slowly move your head to peer up at your boyfriend—a comforting smile on his face.

“did i fall asleep?” you grumble. you can still feel the fullness inside you, the pleasing pressure on your stomach so you know neither one of you has moved. you try slightly stretching out your thighs that have fallen asleep too, a soft tingling running through your feet at the numbness from the prolonged position.

you don’t move too much, but your pussy does instinctively squeeze around minho, and he lets out a delighted sigh as he leans his head back. still, he doesn’t move.

he runs his hands up and down your thighs, his smile still firmly in place as he looks up at you. he softly kneads your muscles, still working on helping you relax. your eyes lock together and the brown in front of you is swimming with adoration and a hint of pride you don’t know if you can even accept.

you feel yourself blush at the thought, know minho would scold you if you voiced it, and decide you’ll have to work harder on accepting the praise he gives you.

sometimes you think minho is the only person you’d ever let yourself be loved by.

most times you think that isn’t such a bad idea.

he licks his lips, swallowing in the way he does before he readies himself to say something important.

you tell yourself to accept his love, to let yourself be loved by him.

“you didn’t get me chocolate,” is what he says, “give me chocolate.”

you blink at him for a second, a habit you picked up from spending too much time around minho, trying to process what he’s even talking about.

it clicks a moment later.

“you never even asked me to be your valentine’s, so why should i?” you smirk at him.

he’s appalled by such an answer, eyes wide and mouth gaped enough for his bunny teeth to peek out slightly. you think you’d never love anyone as much as you love lee minho.

“you’re mine,” he says, simple. “why would i need to ask when you’re very clearly mine.”

you can’t help the way your body reacts when minho talks that way, and your pussy clenches tightly at his words.

minho doesn’t tease you, as you’d expect him to, but instead his eyes turn serious.

he runs his hands up to your hips, pushing you forward as your clit rubs against his pelvis.

“min,” your voice comes out high pitched and airy.

“i’m here,” he nods, “i’ll take care of you, okay?”

you nod.

he leans forward, kissing you firmly before bringing a hand back into your hair—softly scratching.

“my bunny,” he says, and it sounds like a promise. “and always my valentine’s. always mine.”

“always yours, min,” you echo firmly, and it sounds like acceptance.

minho brings a hand between your bodies, softly rubbing slow circles against your clit.

“and when things get stressful i’m here,” he reminds you, “and whatever it is you need.”

“m-me too, min, i’ll give you anything,” you moan softly.

“not chocolate, evidently,” he grins at you, his evil smirk out on full display.

you try and protest at his unfair accusation—you literally texted him earlier to ask if he wanted chocolate and he said no due to his personal trainer’s demands—but minho stops you with a fleeting kiss on your lips.

“i don’t need it anyway,” he decides, “you’re better than chocolate.”

at that minho grabs that back of your head and pulls your forward, kissing you urgently as his tongue softly moves against yours. he swallows down your moans as his hand moves faster against you, building and building and building.

you let the feeling take over you as you’re consumed by it, by minho and his familiar taste. the stubble on his chin and the softness of his lips and the way his soft hair feels between your fingers.

you let yourself forget everything else. the dates circled on your calendar and your unanswered emails and your appointments.

it doesn’t matter much when minho starts giggling into your mouth because you’ve knocked your teeth against his.

it doesn’t matter much when minho is all around you, inside you, kissing you. telling you, “mine, baby, mine,” as he starts lazily thrusting into you.

your thoughts, your anxieties, your responsibilities. for a moment they can all fade away—for just now. for as long as you and minho are together, connected.

for now, it doesn’t matter much. all you can think about is minho. just minho.

[bluejutdae]

• Fiancé Stray Kids’ dad walking you down the aisle at your wedding | OT8 x reader

warnings: implied that reader has no father in her life. Whether he’s dead, absent or what is left to imagination.

[catiuskaa]

missed me, missed me, now you gotta...

SUMMARY: minho wasn’t grumpy, nor he was jealous. but he hasn’t been the same ever since he fell in love with you.

REQUESTED! by a sweet annonie right here. pookie, your idea was lovely to write! lil grumpy minho, im melting… it’s a bit short, but I hope you like it! <3

CW: use of (crack) text messages to convey the plot, starring: han quokka as cupid + reader’s bsf, clingy minho as king of my heart, and ngl, type 1 diabetes fluff ahead. keep insulin shots close just in case! lol

WC: 1.1k

A/N: i love how i’m slowly turning into a minho blog/page lmaoo, only minho: the man, the myth, the legend!

[🪻☆🌫️☆🪻]

The same ringtone buzzed again during rehearsals. Its ding had sounded so many times already that it had started to get repetitive really quickly.

Minho frowned as he looked in the mirror, retouching his rolled sleeves just once more for what he secretly knew it had been more than twenty times. In the span of ten minutes. Maybe even less.

But Minho wasn’t ‘grumpy’.

He so wasn’t.

His day had been normal so far. He had no reason to be grumpy. Not one what-so-ever.

He had woken up in between your arms, and even if he had ‘complained’ about it, he loved being the little spoon. And also, his cats jumped on the bed and, just for once, none of them landed on his face.

There had been just one thing.

…

Well. Technically more than one.

You had rushed outside this morning. You claimed you didn’t have time to have breakfast with him, because you were late for something he didn’t really get. Because of that, you hadn’t come over to the JYP building with him. He had to drive over alone. And you hadn’t pecked him goodbye at the entrance like always.

But he. Wasn’t. Grumpy.

Not. At. All.

> sunggie: girl, did you hide his cats or smth?

< minho’s owner: lol, wdym dude?

> sunggie: he looks like he’s going to kill me.

> sunggie: And he loves me! Wtf??

“Jisung-ah.”

Han shrieked in his place in the sofa, his phone almost falling off his hands. He quickly turned it off, hoping that the grumpy dancer hadn’t seen the old or new messages.

“Who were you texting?” Minho frowned, deeper this time.

“Oh.” Jisung chuckled. “Just checking in on noona.”

“My girlfriend?” The way Minho enunciated the title felt a bit possesive. Jisung eyed at him weirdly for a second. Even he felt weird himself.

Jisung nodded sheepishly, turning his phone back on but quickly opening a random app.

“Yeah. I owed her a call back.” He shrugged, nonchalantly accepting that he had opened Subway Surfers, and started to play.

As the catchy music came from Han’s phone, Minho shook his head.

Not grumpy.

Not at all.

But the thought that you had been texting Han and didn’t text him —instead of him— did funny things in his chest.

Now, keep in mind that Minho would never describe himself as a jealous man.

He trusted you with his cats, of course he trusted you regarding your relationship. But he had barely got a hold of you all day. And Han had. By call and text. Like he was doing now.

Not grumpy.

Sure.

< minho’s owner: you dead yet?

Jisung groaned.

> sunggie: no! you made me lose my score!

> sunggie: and I don’t have any keys! ㅠㅠ

< minho’s owner: sucks to suck, lol

< minho’s owner: but what’s wrong with my future husband? did you do something?

> sunggie: he’s moody since he came in this morning.

> sunggie: you weren’t here tho. smth wrong between ya?

< minho’s owner: no…? just had to run to work early…

And then, something in Jisung’s paboracha brain connected. Probably because of how he had named your contact in his phone.

> sunggie: omg

< minho’s owner: what?

> sunggie: that corny dumbass

> sunggie: he’s so stupid

< minho’s owner: bitch what is it???

> sunggie: he’s moody bc u didn’t come in with him today!

You hesitated. Could that be it?

< minho’s owner: really? u think so?

> sunggie: bitch I know so!

> sunggie: imma go get boba for the boys, get your ass here and come w/ me

Jisung’s brain started to work at cupid’s speed.

< minho’s owner: omw. be there in 5’

“Guys, I’m gonna go get boba. Do any of you want something?”

The rest of the gang blabbered something while some kept going over the steps of the choreography and the others rested on the couch, doozing off or on their phones. Han quickly noted down everyone’s orders, not before being squinted down by Minho. He held back a shiver.

“Clingy prick…” Jisung mumbled, leaving quickly.

He walked out of the JYP building, waiving and half bowing to the staff members and other artists in the building.

< minho’s owner: just parked! ^^

Jisung entered the boba place next to the building, smiling at the cashier as he read down the orders on his note app, and stood aside, waiting for the drinks.

“Hey!” You smiled widely at him, taking off your scarf, merely leaving it hanging on your shoulders. He clapped your hand, playfully slapping your back.

“Working hard?” Jisung snickered, pointing at the bag on your other hand.

You side-eyed at him, giggling softly.

“Took some snacks before heading off.” You shrugged. “We can sneak these in, right?”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll… come up with something.”

You both struggled carrying the drinks, teasing each other and betting who’d make a mess first. But all giggles came to an end when the security guard stared at you.

“Name and business?” He asked in a low huff.

Your body stiffened.

“She’s my sister,” Han chimed back. You were in fact far from being his sister, but that didn’t matter when the guard seemed to nod. “She’s just helping me carry the drinks inside.”

“And the bag? What’s inside?”

You cleared your throat, smiling. “Clothes for him to change once he finishes training.” You lied.

Thank God for his imagination. And for his stupid idea of shoving your scarf and his hoodie into the bag of snacks.

“Ok. You may come in.” The guard smiled politely.

Only after the both of you had gotten into the elevator you allowed yourselves to let out a sight full of relief. You two then smirked, high-fiving.

“Thank you, bro.” You teased in a snicker.

He cackled. “You’re welcome, sis.”

You both laughed and joked until you reached the training room.

“The person you dream of is back!” Han cackled.

“Noona!” Felix grinned happily.

“Yeah, that’s me!” You cackled at Jisung’s faked frown.

You smiled and greeted everyone as you entered, leaving a certain bunny boy for last.

You sat next to him on the couch, and without missing a beat, he took your legs and layed them on his lap.

You took a sip of his drink, and he stared at you, almost with a squint.

“You’ve made me jealous of fucking Han Jisung.” He stated matter-o-factly, making you practically choke on the tapioka pearls.

You coughed. “What?”

“You texted him all evening. And me? Not even a good luck kiss this morning.”

“Aw, are you grumpy, kitten?” You grinned teasingly, speaking only towards him in a soft tone to his ear. You pecked his cheek.

He needed more of those.

Grumpy, huh?

“Yes. Very.” He mumbled, hiding his blushed and pleased grin in the crook of your neck. “Need more kisses.”

“Well, you know how it goes.” You mumbled in a snicker. He hummed at you, waiting for you to explain.

You kissed his forehead softly, his hands stroking your thighs.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.”

~Kats, who can write this in one sit, but can’t figure out how chemistry works (yes have exams, why did I choose this for myself, help)

[notsosweetchan]

ʚ♡ɞ Size kink (Hyung Line) ʚ♡ɞ

Warning : Smut

Paring: | Hyung Line x Reader |

Chan

. He won't even admit he has a kink

. But you discover that the slightest size difference can get him riled up

. Loves maneuvering your body so he can have you pinned down

. Will slowly put it in to watch it stretch you out

. Grinding into your core until you're screaming his name and soaked within second

The stretch of his cock has you moaning uncontrollably as he slowly slides it into you , filling you up inch by delicious inch. Your walls clench around him, gripping him like a vice, and he groans in deep satisfaction at the sensation.

He grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he holds you prisoner beneath him, owning every part of you in this moment.

"Damn, you feel so good," he pants out, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and wet for me." His words fan the flames of your arousal even more, and you arch your back, silently begging for more.

He chuckles, a low rumbling sound that vibrates through both of you as he obliges, sliding in to the hilt with one smooth thrust.

You whimper, the sensation of being so full, of being so completely and utterly claimed by him, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

He begins to move then, slowly at first, as if savoring every single thrust. Your nails dig into the sheets, leaving behind shallow imprints as you fight to stay grounded in this realm of pleasure.

"That's it," he growls, his voice a dark whisper in your ear. "Let me hear you scream for me."

Minho

. Has a thing for when it hurts

. Seeing you struggle to take it is such a turn on for him

. It’s even better when you try to stop him from skinning his cock deeper into you

. Has no shame when it comes to degrading you from how easily you cum from him splitting you open

“Poor baby does it hurt “,he coos as he continues to relentlessly pound into you. His hips colliding with your ass cheeks with a ‘smack every time he slams back in. You moan out, your eyes water up from the immense pleasure and pain shooting up your spine.

“You were begging for it earlier”, he reminds you with a smug smile on his face. You gasp, trying to ignore the sting and the ache of your inner walls stretching to accommodate his length. But it only seems to fuel his need, his desire to make you feel every inch of his girth.

You can feel the head hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“Minho, it’s too much” you whine out you whine out , your nails digging into his sheets. Minho slaps your cunt hard, making you yelp in pleasure. “ That’s not what your pussy is saying ”, he growls lowly.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from screaming out profanity at him. He chuckles lowly, as if he can read your mind. “ Go ahead, scream for me, let it out .” You tense up, but the pleasure is too much , the agony and pleasure coiling inside you unraveling.

“Fuck Minho , fuck me harder !!”Minho's smirk widens at your plea, and he delivers. He angles his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you even harder, driving you both further and further into the abyss of pleasure “That's it baby, cum for me.”

Changbin

. This mf has a fuckin thick cock

. Always will take his time to prep you for his cock

. Sliding it in hurts every time

. Doesn’t like to see you in pain, he’ll kiss you to distract you from feeling pain

. Lots and lots of praise

“Bin…“, you whine , your nails digging into his back as he slowly slides his thickened length inch by inch into your aching core.

He kisses your neck, sucking the sting away as he bottoms out inside you, stretching you further than you ever thought possible.“Shhh , it’s okay baby , I got you” he soothes, his hands roaming up and down your spine , trying to calm you down .

“You’re doing so well he praises, his voice laced with pride and lust as he begins to move , rocking his hips in a slow, motion.

His grip on your hips tightens as he picks up the pace , your moans spurring him on.

"You feel so good, baby," he moans against your ear, his breath hot and erratic. "So fucking tight." His praises send a shiver down your spine , your walls clenching around him in response ."That's it," he groans, dropping kisses along your jawline. "Tell me how good it feels."

"Fuck, Binnie," you moan, unable to form coherent words as he picks up the pace. "It feels so fucking good ."He growls in response, his hips slamming into yours with more force. "That's it, baby. Take it all."

Hyunjin

. Doesn’t even know he has the kink until he met you

. Loves to get your cunt nice and wet to make it easier to slide in

. Gets off on your whines and whimpers you make when you take his cock

. When he goes deep and you spasm around him he goes insane

“Hyunnie... too deep!” You whine out, your voice hoarse from the intensity of his thrusts, his cock filling you to the brim. “ pretty I’m sorry you feel to good, you can take it baby. I’ll go easy I promise “ he panted out , his thrusts slowing down but still emphasizing his girth.

He angles his hips , finding that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.“Hyunjin!” you scream , your cunt clenching around his length.

“Fuck me baby, show me how much you love it” he growls , his grip on your hips tightening as he plunges even further into you. His cock hitting every part of you , his thickness stretching out your walls, making room for him and only him.

“Baby ! oh god !” You scream out as waves of pleasure crash over you, your orgasm ripping through your body like a tidal wave. Hyunjin doesn’t stop however, he continues to pound into you , chasing his own release . “ Fuck baby, you feel so good, how does it feel to have me splitting you?”

“I- it feels so good Hyunnie , I never knew I needed this”, you panted out as he continued to thrust into you . “God, your cock feel so damn good and big inside me”

“You’re so wet , you love it don’t you? Taking my dick inside that tight pussy”.

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Lee Know Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

One Shots

Thanksgiving With You (f) ⋆˙⟡♡ Your plans to go home to America for Thanksgiving are uprooted the night before you're supposed to leave. Unable to stand seeing you upset, Minho decides to take matters into his own hands and make sure you get to celebrate no matter what.

A cat proposal (f) ⋆˙⟡♡ minho is in love & wants to marry you

Handle With Care (f s) ⋆˙⟡♡ You've had a truly awful day, luckily, your adoring boyfriend Minho is there to make it better.

Lowkey (a f s) ⋆˙⟡♡ catching feelings for lee minho was inevitable from the start. falling for him is as easy as breathing, but how are you supposed to let him know how you feel when you spend more time fucking him than talking to him? OR, the only thing you're more scared of than losing minho is loving him.

Call of the Siren (s f) ⋆˙⟡♡ the effect he has on people is obvious, they’re drawn to him like he’s an oasis in a desert. then, with a small jingle of a bell that announces his arrival into your store, he attempts to ensnare you.

Cat and Mouse (a s f) ⋆˙⟡♡ your co-worker has been on your case ever since you've started your time at the company. a strange turn of events and circumstance changes all that.

horror house (a s) ⋆˙⟡♡ you're stuck in a horror house alone—your only way out is with the guy who hates your guts. halloween themed enemies to lovers with minho.

makes me dizzy (s) ⋆˙⟡♡ the best surprises come from the most unexpected sources - like having your crush corner you in a frat party after hearing you confess your deepest desires of him in the background of a video.

Love Said To Soul (a f s) ⋆˙⟡♡ When the God of Love is tasked with humiliating a beautiful mortal girl, he finds himself much vexed to discover her immune to his skills. Determined to discover the root of the problem, he takes to mortal form and embarks upon a dastardly ruse that requires his getting close to her. The God of Love thinks he knows all. The God of Love knows nothing.

Side Quest (f)

11:05 (a f)

Feline Bliss (f)

Love at your fingertips (f)

Hotel check-ins (f)

make up sex (s)

Conversations with Minho (f)

sharing a bed series; Lee Know (s)

my moon and stars (f)

Fake Texts

Flirting with bsf+roommate!LeeKnow (f)

Borrowing Minho's Cat

Random Texts with bf!Minho (f s)

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || You Were Clingy And Suddenly You Aren't

PAIRING: Skz x GN!Reader 

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

You hadn’t even meant to overhear the conversation the boys were having but you had and ever since you’d distanced yourself from Chan, giving him space, major space even. You'd stopped showing up at the dorms after work and you stopped going to spend time with Chan at the studios on your days off. You didn't want to be around him if you were too clingy, or overbearing to him and you panicked.

"You're ignoring me and I hate it," Chan said bluntly as he sat across from you at the cafe you would frequent. You forced yourself to look up from the book you'd been trying to read and frowned seeing him standing there.

"What?" You were sure he was supposed to be in practice right now and yet here he was panting and staring at you.

"You're ignoring me, did I do something wrong?" His voice broke as he pulled out a chair and sat down across from you,

"What? No...N-No, I'm just giving you space." You smiled weakly, shutting your book and looking up at him. You didn't want to get into this in the middle of a cafe but you also didn't want to go back to the dorms with him and risk another comment from Seungmin.

"When have I ever said I needed space?" He chuckled at you but you didn't find any of this funny, you were a little stressed that he didn't see you the same way you saw yourself right now.

"You haven't but I realise how overbearing I am right now-"

"What are you talking about?" His hand clasped yours in his grip and he ran his thumb over your skin, your heart picking up as you let out a small whimper. 

"Seungmin said he never sees us apart and I realised how tiring that must be for you." You shrugged, trying to take your hand back but Chan gripped you a little tighter,

"Yn." He whispered, his voice laced with sympathy,

"I'm sorry if I'm too much sometimes, I just...I like spending time with you." Tears were beginning to roll down your cheeks even though you hadn't meant to cry, everything you'd been bottling up finally overflowing,

"And I love spending time with you, it doesn't matter what Seungmin said." He mumbled, moving to the spot right next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"Let's go home, okay? I missed you and I have some cuddling with you to catch up on." He smirked a little making your whole body heat as you nodded at him, quickly kissing his cheek.

MINHO:

After you'd heard Chan say to Minho that you were "Around each other all the time." you'd stopped going around as much. It wasn't anything personal but you didn't want to be too much for Minho, or the others. You worried they'd find you annoying if you were too clingy with your boyfriend and so you took some steps back.

"Yn? I know you can hear me...Just talk to me, did I do something wrong?" Minho pleaded through the door of your apartment. You hadn't responded to him all day and he was beginning to worry you were in a fight without him realising you were in a fight.

"I'm going to use the emergency key if you don't answer." He warned before you sighed, unlocking the door and stepping to the side to let him in.

"Are you sick? Did we have a fight and I didn't notice?" He laughed weakly as he made his way to your sofa and sat down, a clear sign that he wasn't going to go anywhere any time soon so you shut the door and sat across from him.

"No."

"So then what's going on?" He hated overthinking and that was all he'd managed to do ever since you'd disappeared on him and gone quiet.

"I'm giving you some space." You offered as if he'd asked for it but he frowned, shaking his head,

"Space? Why?"

"I feel like I'm overbearing sometimes and I worry I'm around you too much." You'd been overthinking it ever since you'd heard Chan and now you worried if you came on too strong with Minho he'd leave.

"Baby, I enjoy spending time with you." He reached out to touch you but you shifted away from him.

"I know you say that but I feel like I'm too clingy and I should just give you some space."

"But I don't need that, I need my beautiful and amazing partner by my side, always." He whispered as you sniffled a little, tears running down your cheeks as you stared back at him,

"I just don't want you to think I'm smothering you." As soon as he heard you say that he dragged you onto the sofa beside him,

"You could never smother me, if there was ever an issue we would talk about it, don't pull away from me." He begged, his hand running over your cheek as he rid your face of the tears,

"Okay..."

"Trust me, baby, we're good." He tells you as he wraps you in the tightest hug he could manage, your body relaxing a little as you finally felt close to him again.

CHANGBIN:

"I never see you two without each other." The words had seemed so casual coming from Minho's lips and yet you suddenly felt as though your whole world was coming apart around you. 

"Yn? You going home?" Changbin frowned as he walked into his bedroom to find you packing up your things. After you'd heard Minho you knew it was time to give Changbin some space.

"I thought you were staying here tonight."

"Yeah, I just, I thought I should give you some space." You shrugged it off, doing your best to stay as calm and rational as possible but your mind kept going back to your past relationships. Whenever you got too clingy things would go sideways and they'd split with you and you didn't want that with Changbin.

"Space?" He frowned and stood beside you,

"I've been clingy lately and I don't want to smother you, so I'm going to head home." You folded up your last bit of clothing but Changbin was just as confused as he was when he started this conversation

"Smother me? Yn, you could never smother me...Where is this coming from?" He put his hand on your shoulder trying to make you look at him but you didn't, you knew if you did you'd give up and stay all night.

"I just worry that I'm always around and it's probably too much for you. I don't want to be that kind of a partner to you."

"Yn." He stilled your hands on your bag, 

"I love having you around, you make everything better and you're not too much." He hated that you could ever think such a thing when he thought the entire world of you,

"But in my last relationships, things were too much and I don't want to end up pushing you away." You whispered, your voice cracking a little as Changbin held your face in his hands.

"I get that, but we're different. Okay? I don't want you to distance yourself from me because of some bonehead in the past." You stare at him a little unsure of what to do.

"We can spend the night here and then you'll see how much I need you around." He whispered as you nodded a little, your cheeks heating as he kissed you softly.

HYUNJIN:

Hyunjin knew that there was something wrong the moment you'd stopped replying to him over text and then when you cancelled most of your plans he knew he had to do something to make you feel better.

"What...What are you doing here?" You questioned your boyfriend as you walked into your apartment to see him cooking for you.

"You're home early, damn, this was supposed to be done for when you came in." He brushed his hands down his apron and hugged you tightly, you hugged him back but frowned at him.

"What was?"

"Dinner." He gestured to the oven behind him which was filled with food.

"I noticed you were being distant and I wanted to come over and do something nice for you." He smiled warmly but you just felt guilty that he'd come all the way out here to do this for you.

"Is everything okay?" He asked as he went back to stirring whatever it was on the hob but you looked down at the floor. Everything was fine until Changbin mentioned that he never saw you apart from one another and you realised you needed to give Hyunjin space.

"I'm just worried I might be too clingy...or overbearing," You shrugged, scratching the back of your neck as Hyunjin froze.

"Clingy and overbearing? What would give you that thought?" He stopped what he was doing, moving the food off the heat.

"I love our time together," He added, worry started to seep into him as he thought about it.

"I know you say that now but I don't want you to feel suffocated or that I'm always around." Within seconds Hyunjin was in front of you and frowning,

"Yn, being with you is the best part of my day, you're never suffocating to me." He smiled a little.

"But we're never apart and I don't want you to get sick of me." You sniffled a little but Hyunjin kissed you softly, wrapping his arms around you.

"If there is one thing in this world I can promise you, it's that I would neve ever get sick of you." He explained, you hesitated for a second a little unsure of what to do but you smiled weakly.

"You're sure?" You quizzed before he nodded, kissing your cheek.

"We can talk more over dinner, but I promise you I don't want or need you to put space between us," He told you, kissing the top of your head and going back to cooking.

JISUNG:

Ever since last week, Jisung had noticed something changing with you and he was beginning to worry he'd done something that might have upset you. Even now as you walked together on the beach he could sense something was wrong. You weren't holding his hand or onto his arm like you usually would and you weren't asking him to go on rides with you or to play some fair games when you would pass by them.

"Is everything okay? With us...I mean." He usually wasn't upfront with his feelings but ever since the two of you had started seeing one another he'd been getting better at it,

"Yeah." It was obviously a lie and Jisung frowned at you, stopping still and making you look at him.

"What's going on?" He stared at you and you knew he wasn't going to stop asking unless you told him the truth which worried you more than you cared to admit.

"Do you think we're around each other too much?" You finally asked making Jisung's eyebrows knit together in a frown.

"No? Why?" He shook his head at you but you looked away from him,

"It was something Felix mentioned...T-That we're never apart and I worry that-"

"You're clingy?" He finished for you and you nodded a little before he sighed and kissed your cheek.

"You're not clingy at all, you know I love having you around right?" He stares at you and smiles a little.

"You make me feel less anxious, you make me feel like a whole other person when I'm with you and I never want space." He told you simply, bringing you into his arms and smiling as you cuddled into him.

"You promise you'll come to me in the future if you start to worry again?" He quizzed and you nodded your head, kissing him quickly as you continued your walk on the beach front.

FELIX:

As you rounded the corner of your apartment building you frowned finding Felix standing there knocking on your door.

"Felix? I thought we cancelled tonight." You said as you walked closer to him but something was off, you could see he'd been crying and it instantly made you worry.

"Are we okay? Are you breaking up with me?" He sniffled, you quickly ushered him into your apartment not wanting to get any unwanted attention from your neighbours and you shut the door.

"Breaking up? What? No." You mumbled shaking your head at him.

"You've been so distant and then J-Jisung said it meant you were going to break things off with me."

"Jisung is wrong." You grumbled, you and Jisung weren't exactly seeing eye to eye after you'd heard him mention to Felix how clingy you were.

"So then what's going on? Did I do something to upset you?"

"No, Lix." You sighed sitting next to him on the sofa.

"I overheard Jisung talk about me and he mentioned how we're never apart and I just...I thought I was giving you space." You shrugged it off and Felix sighed, clearly frustrated.

"I'm sorry you heard him say that but....for the record, I assure you that I don't find you clingy...I love you so much," He smiled warmly at you but you looked down at the floor.

"I don't want to be a burden," Your head was slowly tilted up to look at Felix and you smiled weakly.

"You're not a burden, Yn. I'll talk to Jisung and clear this up but don't let his dumb words affect us," He told you sternly before kissing you softly and standing up.

"Where are you going?" You frowned as he stretched a little,

"To talk to Jisung."

"No. Stay and cuddle I missed you," You laughed, dragging him back to you, he could talk to Jisung another time, right now it was just you and him.

SEUNGMIN:

Seungmin hadn't always been the best at expressing himself when it came to your relationship but he always felt as though he'd done a pretty good job up until now. Now he had no idea what was wrong and if he'd done something to upset you since you'd just distanced yourself from him. 

"Seungmin? What are you doing here?" You whispered as you turned around to find your boyfriend in your office, somewhere he shouldn't have been if he didn't want to get noticed. You quickly shut and locked your door, pulling the blinds down.

"I had to see you, we've barely spent any time together."

"I've been busy." You lied looking down at the floor but Seungmin wasn't going to take some bullshit for an excuse he needed to know what was going on.

"You've been acting distant for weeks, what's going on?"

"I just figured you needed some space." Seungmin waited for you to say something else but when you didn't he frowned even more at you.

"Why would I need space?" He stared down at you as you sat at your desk,

"I've been a little annoying and clingy lately and I didn't want to keep bothering you."

"When have you ever bothered me? Where would you even get such an idea?" He sat across from you and narrowed his eyes a little, he was like a human lie detector and you knew you wouldn't be able to hide anything from him.

"Jeongin mentioned how we're never apart and I just- I thought you might get annoyed with me." You explained before Seungmin stared at you as though you had a second head.

"Baby, you're not annoying, you never could be...ever, I don't ever want you to feel like that." He moved quickly to kneel by your side and he took your hands in his, kissing them softly.

"I love you...Okay? You're important to me and I want us to be able to talk if things ever bother us," He offered and you nodded, quickly kissing him and smiling to yourself.

"I promise to come to you in the future," He nodded and kisses you again, deeper this time,

JEONGIN:

It was a quiet night in until Jeongin showed up at your door, usually Friday nights were reserved for the two of you to spend time together but you'd been acting differently lately and it was starting to worry him. Especially tonight when you cancelled on him seemingly to do nothing at home.

"You're acting weird and I'm worried," Jeongin explained as he stood in your apartment, you refused to look at him instead choosing to stare at the TV with a drama playing on it.

"Yn, talk to me." He begged as he sat across from you on the coffee table. Sighin you looked at him, you hesitated in telling him everything but you knew he'd never leave if you didn't spill your guts to him.

"I'm sorry if I've been distant...I just-" You sighed, you didn't even know where to start with any of this.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I just want to understand what's going on. Is something or someone bothering you?" He stared at you with concern written all over his face and you sighed,.

"Lately I've just been feeling like maybe I'm too clingy and then I heard Minho mention that we're never apart and it just...it drove home what I was already feeling," You mumbled, playing with the sleeves of your shirt as jeongin stared at you.

"Clingy? You're not clingy at all, nowhere near." He mumbled, quickly moving to sit beside you.

"I don't know, I heard what Minho said and then at work, I heard people talking about their relationships and I just...I thought I was being a burden." Jeongin reached out and took your hands in his.

"You're not and never will be a burden to me, Yn. I love you and want you in my life."

"I don't want to ever smoother you or make you feel trapped with me." You added and he smiled at you,.

"Okay, but communication is key. Shutting me out and putting space between us won't let us fix what's going on. We need to talk it through together." He squeezed your hands a little and you nodded, you knew he was right deep down and you kissed him softly.

"I promise to talk if anything bothers me again," You whispered before the two of you cuddled together on the sofa for a while.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @xakx @sleepb @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @kpopmenace143 @minhosify @loveforred @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @parkjennykim

[astraystayyh]

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this caf�� to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

[soobnny]

request. you falling asleep on skz’s chest and telling them you love them for the first time in your sleep

sorry it took me so long, anon! but here is the request u sent me

BANG CHAN

— it would be a little late in the night when you finally fall asleep, maybe around 11pm. it’s one of the rare days chan doesn’t allow himself to fall prisoner to another all-nighter (not that it ever bothered you, but chan’s been making effort in spending more time with you in the present instead of in his head)

— he definitely sleeps better with you, how could he not? with your head on his chest and your cheek a little mushed and your lips in a small pout and your ear to his heart. it’s perfect circumstances to sleep and your breathing is such a lullaby to him, and a reminder to ground himself in the present more to enjoy moments like these. you guys don’t get to cuddle often so it’s nice to take everything in when he can

— chan’s just on the verge of falling asleep when you say it and i think he wouldn’t be able to believe it first (talk about an instant alarm ?). he’d just blink down at you for a moment before the sweetest smile plasters on his face, the crinkled eyes until they almost disappear and lip biting type to stop himself from smiling too much

— his heart would just expand tenfold because you really are the person he sees himself with in the future and to hear those three words he’s almost told you a million times before leave your lips is just so reassuring and so beautiful to him; that you love him back, and he can’t wait to tell you in the morning

— when he’s finally processed it, he’d lean down to kiss you .. just every part of your face. but like, he’s so careful about it so you don’t wake up

— he falls asleep maybe half an hour later because all his life his mind has been running and running and running but with you in his arms, and those three words, he feels so safe that he allows his mind to rest. sometimes, it’s enough to just let his heart beat and love

❝ i love you. god, i love you too. i’ve been wanting to say it for so long now. ❞

LEE MINHO

— i think lee know’s def the type to know he’s in love first because it’s such a drastic difference to suddenly consider you in everything when he used to never do it before and he’s not oblivious to his feelings. like he’s the same but also so different ? little gestures of love would build up to his light bulb moment that he is so in love with you and he wants nothing more than to tell you but he doesn’t want to scare you off

— you stay over at his house when it happens. doing schoolwork? cramming for a paper? somewhere along those lines. you never notice the time when you’re with him and suddenly seconds turn into hours and it’s too late for you to commute home and lee know’s mom used their car so he can’t drive you home either. just proposes you stay over bc it’s not like you haven’t done it before

— you two always spend silence in comfort so he doesn’t know you’re asleep at first when you say those three words to him and the way you say it is so faint that he almost misses it. but he doesn’t. he hears it loud and clear

— his heart swells even more when he looks down to see your eyes closed and your mouth slightly parted and his response is just the fondest expression on his face. the most endearing smile and a finger brushing over your features because wow, this is the girl that snuck her way into his heart and unknowingly stole every part of him

— would brush your hair out of your face to see you properly before finally whispering that he loves you too. he’d say the three words the next morning.

— years later, he’d always brag he was the first to tell you that he loved you but you’d never know it was you. it’s a little secret he keeps to himself, and the moment is so intimate that it’s his only

❝ ah, (name). you’re all i’ve ever wanted, did you know? ❞

SEO CHANGBIN

— for changbin, i truly believe there is no moment of sudden realization. he’s well acquainted with love like i think he’s most in touch with that emotion. he feels so deeply and i think he learned most of that from his mother. he wouldn’t be afraid to embarrass himself in the name of love. in fact, he thinks it’s the greatest feeling on earth and it’s something you shouldn’t ever take for granted (i’m sorry, i’m a softie changbin enthusiast)

— everything is steady with him. loves you more day by day by day but he’s always known he’s been in love with you and nothing is ever overwhelming with him like it’s always so safe

— when you say it, he feels his heart beat 98383 times faster because what do you mean the person he’s so in love with loves him back ? like i feel like it just doesn’t cross his mind honestly. like he loves you and that’s that and he’s satisfied with loving you but suddenly his whole world just stops when he hears those words

— changbin would try to keep his position still though, even though he feels like jumping around and spinning you around in his arms but he just doesn’t want to shake you awake from your sleep

— spends the rest of the night thinking about you saying that you love him. there’s nothing more beautiful than the reciprocation of a feeling of love so great

❝ i love you, and that’s always been enough for me, but god does it feel so great to hear it from you. ❞

HWANG HYUNJIN

— he loves like in movies, in books, in art. despite being such a hopeless romantic though, everything is actually so new to him. it’s only with you that he experiences that shortness of breath, that jumble of words, that all-nighter because you can’t stop thinking about the person you love the most, and those damn butterflies

— even the first time you fall asleep on his chest, he freaks out. and he freaks out even after the 9183th time but who can blame him? he may look like such an expert, such a poet, such a man of love, but he’s nothing more than a boy who’s falling in love for the first time

— so, it is the 9184th time you’re asleep on his chest and he has a hand running through your hair when you mumble it in your sleep

— FREEZES. for maybe a good 5 mins? honestly it feels like forever because he really is frozen. and then, that music plays. the music when the love interest shows up on the screen in movies. it plays in his head and his heart is pouncing like crazy and it’s just such a moment to be in love

— pulls you closer when he finally recomposes himself and has the most lovesick smile on his face for maybe an hour before he allows himself to fall asleep because this is all he’s ever dreamed of

❝ you’re someone straight out of my dreams. ❞

HAN JISUNG

— to me, jisung feels a little reckless when he loves. but like, not in a bad way. it’s more like, he’s been careful his whole life and keeping on a guard because he values his silence and his comfort over everything else but god, when he loves? he jumps straight in. he jumps even without the guarantee of anyone catching him. when he loves, there is no doubt, no second guessing. he simply dives head first

— he’s falling again, falling and falling, it’s never ending. even as you fall asleep on his chest one afternoon after watching a movie together

— he JERKS the moment he hears you say it like actually just jerks from his place and accidentally wakes you up from your slumber

— you freak when you wake up thinking that something must’ve happened because he’s staring at you with wide eyes but at the same time, he’s also apologizing for accidentally waking you up. you’re just in the process of asking him about it when he cuts you off by kissing you

— when you kiss him back, there is nothing in his head but “wow, so this must be the feeling of being caught” because he’s finally landed safely in your arms after all that falling

— don’t be mistaken though, he’d fall over and over again because the feeling of having you catch him is so addicting

❝ (name), is this real? ❞

LEE FELIX

— oh felix, the sweetest boy who falls in love in the sweetest way. definitely is the type to see colors brighter and hear music louder and just have all his feelings amplify because of you. stars come together when you look at him and he feels himself revolving around you like he’s just !!! there is no explaining how deep this boy loves. it’ll be like fireworks, like earthquakes, like thunderstorms but it’ll also feel like breathing and the quiet patter of rain. you get every variant of love with him because he’s so adamant on showing you every part of him

— you two cuddle up to each other all the time. he loves skinship, he loves physical touch, he loves holding you and being held and kissing you and hugging you and everything that makes it feel like you’re close to him so he doesn’t question when you fall asleep on his chest

— he’s on his phone, probably taking a picture or video of you when you suddenly say it. there’s just instant tears in his eyes the moment the words leave your mouth. he cries because he’s overwhelmed that you feel the same way about him and he’s scolding himself for being so dramatic over it but also he seriously cannot stop crying like what have you done to him?

— smiles and cries and laughs and leans down to kiss your head over and over and over and you can only ask why his eyes are so red and puffed when you wake up and he wastes no time to tell you that he loves you. drops it immediately. he’s been waiting forever to say it anyway (actually, he’s said it quite a few times but only when he thinks you can’t hear)

— won’t stop saying it anymore like every hour is a good opportunity to tell you that he loves you

❝ i can’t get over how beautiful it is to love and it’s all thanks to you. ❞

KIM SEUNGMIN

— the peak best friends to lovers story. seungmin isn’t the type to throw the feeling of love around. he isn’t the type to fall in love quickly either. he falls in love in moments you spend as friends, but it also kind of takes him such a long time to admit it because he’s always rejected the idea of romance and the gentle emotions that come with it. he’s so used to teasing and tough love that he suddenly can’t function properly when he realizes he’s growing softer because of you

— seungmin holds out from saying ‘i love you’, mostly because it’s hard to rid the stubbornness he’s carried all his life, but don’t get me wrong. there are so many times when he’s almost said it but stopped himself before he could. maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to startle you either. it’s a scary feeling after all, and being his best friend, you know about all his flaws. how could you choose to love him despite it all?

— even so, he is still powerless to love. no one can ever go above the feeling no matter how hard he tries. when you say it in your sleep, he finally lets go of whatever he’s been holding on for so long. he’s ready to willingly admit he’s in love with you and has been for such a long time

— he runs a hand through your hair, just thinking of how comforting it is to be with you, of how you make him smile without even having to be there with him. just the thought of you makes him so happy and it’s infuriating because why does losing to love feel so much like winning instead? is it because it’s you he’s falling in love with?

— would ask you if you’re sure because he’s someone that values sureness, honesty, and just Purpose. he loves on purpose and he wants to make sure you love him by your own choice too. he’s always chosen to take every step closer to you all his life

❝ do you really mean that? please mean it. ❞

YANG JEONGIN

— time always slows when you’re with him. he also gives me romance between friends because like seungmin, he’s not the type to take love lightly. he only ever says the three words in important moments. he never wants to just throw those words around because romance is so important to him, and he’s always been the one to seek for it because it’s so beautiful

— when he meets you, he just thinks, so this is what love is. he understands now why people tell stories about it, why it’s subject to so many songs. he understands when he looks in your eyes

— it’s an afternoon of teasing where your eyes meet and you just double in laughter because whatever the hell you’re talking about is so funny to only the two of you. the boys will never understand the language you’ve crafted for yourselves

— you fall asleep after having played games and ran around and teased each other all afternoon and it’s in his arms while the two of you are watching a movie

— when you say it, he falls silent. he closes his eyes and crosses his fingers and prays he isn’t just dreaming this up, might pinch himself even because it’s just so unreal to him that you love him like he might be the Foolish silly type but when he loves, he really does give it his all

— you wake up at one of the louder scenes of the movies and you’re like ??? why is jeongin staring at you like that so you’re like stop staring .. but he kind of just grins really LOVESICK and you’re like oh my god what is happening. he’s looking at you different and his eyes are softer

— with a yank of your shirt, he kisses you and mumbles how much he loves you against your lips

❝ i love you. and i will choose to love you everytime. ❞