#skz minho angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cryinginmyroomsposts · 10 months

Text

Mr Gorgeous

pairing: Lee Minho x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, crack, tutor Lee know, non-idol!au, college au, best friend Hyunjin, computer nerd Lee know

summary: As a chemical engineer with the biggest aversion to computer science it was nothing short of hell to try and pass the one elective you were forced to take. Things do change for the better when your friend suggests you get tutored by smart and hot Lee Minho. Maybe you'd do a lot more than just pass the subject...

wordcount: 6.3k

a/n: This one is based on the unhinged but cute ideas my friend gives, hopefully, I did justice to that, and to Minho.

masterlist

I have extended this universe (but can be read as oneshot ) with the Hyunjin fic Dancing with our Hands Tied

Regret.

That’s the primary emotion you feel right now. Sitting with your hands tugging at your hair in the corner of the computer science lab as you stare at the big blank screen… yet again.

Another ping and you look up to see yet another failure message popping on the screen of your laptop. It wasn’t brand new, or of high value, but this laptop was your lifeline. Not only did it hold all three years' worth of your undergrad life but it also holds the precious drafts of your latest hyper fixation- fanfics based on the forced marriage trope.

The downfall of the laptop itself wasn’t your primary concern now, it was the choices you made that led here. Well, it wasn’t exactly a choice. The course selection system of your uni might say “flexible” but it was anything but. Your mind replays a flashback from two months ago when you were seated in your dorm bed, hands tugging your hair like now, as you stare at the monstrosity that was the computer science elective you were forced to choose for the sake of credits.

Leading you right back to regret.

Just as you're about to break your laptop in a fit of pure frustration you feel a hand on your shoulder. Whipping your head back, with five retorts at the tip of your tongue (but ones that’ll never be said), you find yourself facing one of your closest friends. His feline eyes shone with kindness and his long blonde hair with fringes framing his spectacular face and the crisp white shirt that looks very out of place amongst his rarely-showered peers.

Hyunjin. The infamous dance team captain and the most wanted dude on campus, who somehow ended up as your roommate's dance partner back in freshman year and is now a big part of your gang. He was the reason for whatever little popularity you had on campus.

“Are you alright?”

“Hi yeah, I-I’m fine… I guess…” you sigh, giving up on your hair and point to the screen. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and my laptop just gave up on me.”

He gives you a sad smile, not one of pity and you’re grateful for it. “Ahh, the computers have defeated our great y/n I see...” His tone is slightly lighter this time when he speaks. You nod furiously as he settles down on an empty chair next to you. His hand has moved from your shoulder to fidgeting with the armrests.

“Yeah I absolutely hate- no loathe computers. I mean, I fought with my parents to do a chemical engineering degree just because I hate computers for god's sake. All that only to end up here in this damn course and I’ve managed to kill my laptop in the process of installing virtual machines. Actually why the hell do we even need those virtual machines? Isn’t everything that these machines produce essentially virtual… if you do need another device, just get one. Why do you computer science idiots go through all this hassle? I don’t-“, you pause mid-rant to see that he’s got an amused expression and the corners of his lips are lifted up.

“Ugh, please. Don’t laugh at my distress, you cruel man.” You whine and dramatically put your head on the desk in defeat.

"Aye y/n it's okay... I mean it will be..." Hyunjin tries to comfort but you just grunt in response and dig your head deeper into your arms on the desk.

You hear him sigh and shift closer to you.

"Alright, I'll tell you what... class is over now so we will give up for now and go have something to eat and replenish your brain. Then maybe I can tutor you, I am also in the class and I do understand this. Is that ok?"

You look up to see Hyunjin sitting beside you, lips pressed into a thin smile, eyes kind and empathetic. This version of him rarely comes out except with his few friends and you were usually grateful for that. But today you had no brain cells left to feel grateful.

"Yeah, sure! Do you plan on doing that before or during your morning dance practices or evening practice?" Your tone comes out sharp and sarcastic, which catches Hyunjin off guard.

You were almost always sarcastic but it was never more than a harmful joke and you never really lost your temple. In fact, you were very particular about staying silent unless you have something positive or funny to contribute to the conversation.

Hyunjin recovers fast from the shock, "Hey I was just offering... I was being nice. Don't bite my head off!"

You feel apologetic immediately and sigh. "Yeah sorry dude, I guess I need to eat. Are you still up to get lunch together?" You ask with a small smile.

"Yup!" He immediately agrees with a big grin and you begin packing your things.

"Hey, you sure one of your little fangirls and fanboys won't die of jealousy if they see just the two of us having lunch together?" You joke as you both head to the cafeteria.

He just rolls his eyes and both of you laugh it off.

Even though you knew about Hyunjin's popularity, it still feels weird for you to sit and watch almost the entire cafeteria stare in your direction. Rather in his direction. Trying your best to ignore it you continue eating your sales as Hyunjin talks about the latest gossip from the dance team.

Just as he was about to reach the juicy part, Hyunjin sees someone on the other end of the cafe and asks them to join. You whip your head around to see the source of your latest annoyance, ready to hate them in your head, only to find the most gorgeous man you had ever seen walk towards your table.

You've had one too many celebrity crushes in your day but you weren't usually the type to simp for a dude in real life- especially one from your university. Yet you find yourself unable to take your eyes off this guy. He's wearing a simple black T-shirt and a pair of joggers. His headphones are around his neck, and a black backpack hanging on his left shoulder. You watch his shirt cling to his shoulders and the way he keeps his eyes down as he walks. You keep watching as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up just enough for it to look fluffy and good.

Taylor Swift definitely wrote Gorgeous for this man.

As he nears the table you finally gather all your self-control and turn back to your lunch. You chew on the food slowly and keep playing with the contents in your bowl, painfully aware of every step he takes toward the table.

"Hey Lino!" You hear Hyunjin exclaim as he gets up to hug the other guy.

"Hi Hyunjin." says the other guy- who apparently has a deep, yet soft voice that reminds you of honey melting.

You internally cringe at the weird tingly feeling this guy is making you feel.

You try to block out the conversation the two guys make, desperately hoping you wouldn't have to interact with Mr Gorgeous.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce you both. This is my friend y/n."

You look up at the mention of your name to find Hyunjin and him looking right at you. You smile, hoping the weird thoughts don't translate on your face.

"And y/n, this is Lee Minho. My classmate and dance teammate." Hyunjin says with a fond smile.

"Hey, y/n. Nice to finally meet you," says Mr Gorgeous in his honey-dripping voice as he reaches his hand out to you. You are frozen for a second but recover quickly to take his hands and shake them as you nod. You watch as he immediately takes his hand after a second of contact and clears his throat.

"Nice to meet you too Minho." you finally manage after the handshake that only made the butterflies worse. You pray silently that you don't ever have to speak to Minho again, a crush was not good for your health. Especially not a crush on your friend's very hot dance teammate.

Thankfully Minho almost immediately leaves, stating he has a class to attend and Hyunjin and you bid your byes and return to your lunches.

After a moment's silence, Hyunjin speaks again, "So what do you think about Minho?"

You cough as a lettuce piece gets stuck in your throat at his question and chug half a glass of water.

"Wha- what about him?" You ask in your most normal voice possible.

"I don't know... you tell me." Hyunjin says eyeing you cautiously.

"He's fine I guess." He scoffs. "He's way more than fine and we both know it." He says with a smirk.

"You're just a simp for the mysterious hot dudes who will never go for you."

"Ouch. But yeah. Plus all I can do is simp... he's not really into guys." Hyunjin says with a dramatic frown making you shake your head at his antics.

You were almost relieved when Hyunjin admitted to simping for Minho because then you would shut down the crush because you are a good friend. Every plan to squish this growing crush is backfiring on you now.

As you both finish your lunch and decide to go separate ways, Hyunjin stops in his tracks outside the cafeteria with a bright smile on his face. The face that usually means trouble for anyone involved- which is you currently.

"Oh my god! Y/n I just had the best idea." He practically squeals and you roll your eyes at him.

"I don't believe it will be good but you're gonna say it anyway so spill."

"Well you need a tutor to pass the computer course... and Minho is a top-of-the-class student who passed that subject a semester ago. What if he tutored you?"

Hyunjin looks like he hit the jackpot and your jaw hangs on the floor. Gulping you begin to explain why his idea won't work just as the door opens and out comes the man of the hour himself- Minho.

Hyunjin looks at Minho and his smile grows even wider.

"Lino I was just going to call you. I need a small favour from you."

Minho looks suspiciously between an excited Hyunjin and a horrified you. "Yeah, tell me..."

Hyunjin proceeds to explain the ordeal in great painful detail. He paints a sad picture of you from fighting with your parents about your major to your whining in the lab earlier. All while you plan the detailed and gruesome murder of Hwang Hyunjin in your head.

Even though you are too embarrassed to see Minho's face, curiosity gets the better of you. He seems to be trying his best to follow Hyunjin's rant. His eyebrows perked up and eyes shifted between the two of you. His nose scrunched as he nods continuously.

"So what do you think of my genius idea huh?" Hyunjin asks Minho as he smiles widely at you both.

"Ermm... ", Minho looks between you and Hyunjin looking positively confused. "I think I can do it yeah." He says in his honey-melting crush-heightening voice and nods at you.

All you can do is force a hopefully normal smile on your face as Hyunjin celebrates his 'victory'. You shoot Minho an apologetic look as Hyunjin forces you both to exchange numbers and discuss the tutoring schedule- every Monday evening at the library.

"See you on Monday y/n." He says with a soft smile as he hoists his bag up higher on his shoulder and walks away after saying his byes to Hyunjin.

There is no death for the crush now.

————————————

The Monday could not have come slower. Although it was only three days from meeting Minho it felt like the longest days of your life. To make matters worst, Hyunjin and Yeji, your roommate, could not stop talking about Minho.

Turns out he didn’t spurt out of nowhere since Thursday, he was fondly called Lino by the dance team. You’d previously heard Hyunjin and Yeji talk for hours together about the “brilliant” dancer that “Lino” was. But you’d also heard Yeji mock Hyunjin for constantly getting bullied by him. The stories that you had always laughed your heart out to because mostly Hyunjin did deserve it. But now those stories do nothing but increase your anxiety as you walk slowly towards the campus library to meet your gorgeous dancer-nerd tutor.

What if he bullies you too? Or worse what if you embarrass yourself in front of Mr Gorgeous!

You groan as you step into the library, searching along rows of students absorbed in their own world before spotting him. He was wearing another plain black shirt, hair messed up in sweeps framing the side of his face, and a thin framed glass perched on his face. His little nose scrunched up as he was concentrating on his laptop, the headphones on his head.

Why does this man make you weak over the bare minimum!

“Hey Minho”, you greet as you reach the table he’s sat at, settling down across the table from him.

He looks up removing his headphones and smiles at you, nodding in acknowledgment.

Both of you walk around on eggshells for the first few minutes, him understanding how much knowledge you have in the subject- he almost looks disappointed on hearing the answer be ‘nothing’. Eventually, you both developed a plan and he began explaining from the basics. Although you had a very hard time concentrating initially, especially when his eyes got all dark and focused, as he bit his lip whenever you messed up and explained in that calm soothing voice of his. But eventually, you started finding it easier to learn when he taught you in parts, giving examples and helping you take notes.

The hour passed by much too quickly for your liking but a part of you was relieved to be out of his strong gaze. He had given you some pointers and tasks to do over the week to help speed the process to pass the finals approaching in two months.

The following weeks go smoothly, Mondays becoming your favourite and most exciting day of the week- adulting really was sad. You saw Minho relaxing with every session, the third session he even started teasing you about your mistakes. He would let out a little “hehe”, smile brightly as his eyes lit up and shake his head as he says, “No that’s not how you run this. It’s a different coding language so the rules change.”

He never raised his voice or lost his cool. While you were constantly groaning or huffing in irritation at the irrational rules of computer science. You constantly explained to him that you weren’t an entire novice to coding but the concepts of operating systems and databases simply did not make sense. He would constantly assure you that this was hard for computer science majors and that you had not much to worry about. Eventually, the one-hour sessions became longer as you both sit back and talk about random topics during "breaks". He even suggested an additional session to "help speed the process", which made your stomach drop in an odd way (not because your crush kept exponentially growing in the last six weeks).

That’s how you find yourself in the library on a Thursday afternoon, coming to the library hours prior to your session with Minho. Trying your best to understand the concept you both were supposed to go over so that you didn’t look too dumb and also because your finals is approaching in two weeks. You used to be the topper in school, and you even managed to stay in the top 10 in your department but none of that worked here. It definitely didn’t help to learn that Minho was an extremely talented all-rounder.

In the last six weeks, you might’ve slipped into a couple or almost all of the dance team’s practice sessions pretending to care about Hyunjin and Yeji (both of whom were surprised to find you there for the first time in three years).

Minho danced as gracefully as a swan while emitting the most powerful aura on stage. You had seen the dance team’s performances before to support your friends but you hadn’t really noticed anyone except those two till now. But now you could not take your eyes off Minho even when you heard the team and other audiences praise how amazing Hyunjin and Yeji were.

You shake your head to prevent yourself from getting distracted by Minho’s tantalising steps from the previous day’s rehearsal. All of this did nothing but feed the monster of a crush you were fostering inside. She was so strong now that calling it a crush felt wrong. You were down bad. But that is a problem for another time, you needed to learn this concept before Minho gets there in half an hour.

You’re not sure how long it has been since you started hyper focusing on the topic but you are brought out of your reverie by Minho’s rich voice.

“Hey y/n.” He sounds cheerful and there’s a cute smile on his face which makes the monster butterflies immediately rise up in your stomach.

“Hello.” You smile back as he settles in the seat next to you. This was another suggestion from Minho since the third week to "help correct your mistakes better", little did he know it only made you more prone to mistakes with him so close to you. You noticed that he was wearing his white hoodie and grey joggers- which you know now is his dance practice attire, and his hair is all tousled and messy. His cheeks are flushed from the practice and he is slightly out of breath as he takes his laptop out and settles down.

“You’ve already started this topic huh. Good to see you working so hard. ” He says with a genuine smile nodding towards your laptop. You smile coyly, stomach doing a little flip at the compliment (it never gets old).

“Ah, nothing like that. Just had time to kill. Thought I’d try to catch up so that I’m not entirely clueless for today.” He nods and looks at you for a second longer than usual. Just as you think he’s going to turn to his laptop and start the session he leans towards you and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ears. Time comes to a standstill as you process what just happened. When you recover from the tingle his touch had left on your cheek and behind your ear, you realise that he has gone to his work.

“Let’s start?” He enquired looking innocent and all you can do is nod. Your heart is still beating fast as you try your best to follow everything Minho is saying. Every time you got your heart to calm down he would turn to look at you from behind his glasses, a serious expression on his face which was way too close to yours for your brain to work.

When you start working on the code he leans between you and your laptop to point at the code on the farthest end of the screen from him. His face is extremely close to yours as you do everything to remain normal- on the outside.

Eventually, the session comes to an end and you slump back in your chair sighing as you catch your breath and look at Minho. He is on his phone smiling every now and then and your hearts drops as anxiety clouds your head. Not that you had any intentions of taking any action about your crush… but still the heart wants what it wants. He turns to you as he puts his phone down and removes his glasses.

“How come you had free time today, before our session? I thought you had a full schedule on Thursdays?” He enquires and pushes his smooth fluffy hair out of his face.

You have two thoughts in your brain at this point- a) why did he have to be that gorgeous, and b) did he remember when you told him about your schedule the first time you both met.

You straighten up as you answer. “Erm… yeah no my lab got cancelled. Prof has been sick for a week now so I was free.”

“Is that why you seem to be having a lot of free time lately?” His question comes out more as a comment as he gives you a smirk.

“Uh what do you mean?”

He runs his hand through his hair again.

“Nothing just been seeing you around during practice a lot recently… that’s why.” He almost looks shy as he says it, but the smirk stays put on his face.

You feels your cheeks and neck heat up and do your best to not look like a deer caught in headlights.

You let out a small fake laugh. “Ah, that… I was just supporting Hyunjin. And Yeji too, she’s my roommate you know?” You ask hoping he’d shift the topic to them instead.

He leans back on the side of his chair eyeing you with the smirk still in its place. “Yeah I know. I’ve known for three years.” Your eyes widen naturally at this new information. “Which is why I was surprised to see you there now after all these years. You don’t usually come to practice sessions.” He says calmly.

There are too many questions in your head but you choose to ignore anything that gives you even a sliver of hope. You straighten more hoping the stature makes you look at least slightly intimidating. Which, judging by the even bigger smirk on Minho’s face didn’t work.

“I- I came because Yeji and Hyunjin were nervous about their solos.”

His expression is straight-up cocky. “Oh is that why you were staring at me the whole time?”

His words might’ve affected you so much that you were embarrassed but you weren’t going to feed into his ego.

“Seems like you need a new prescription for your eyes.” You pick up your things, start to walk away from the table and pause to give him a sarcastic smile.

"Also seems like you were the one who was seeing me instead of focusing on your practice."

You walk away hoping to save some face before you feel his hold on your wrist. His hands are rough and he holds you just tight enough to stop you but not hurt you.

“Y/n I was just teasing… sorry if I crossed a line.” He sounds so soft and timid that you whip your head around to see him standing behind you with big eyes and a small pout. You sigh and smile at him.

“I know… I was too. Don’t worry abt it, Mr Tutor.” You try to lighten the mood by lightly tapping his shoulder and see him shudder slightly.

“I do like seeing you in practices.” He admits in a low voice, a shy smile on his face.

You are just a melted goo of a human on the inside. The smile on your face comes naturally but for once, you don’t feel the need to hide it. Minho made you lose your guard way too much but even then today was way out of either of your usual zones. For the rest of the night, you are a mess of nerves and excitement. Yeji doesn’t question it anymore.

Two days later, you arrive at the auditorium of your uni with the two other friends of your gang- Jeongin and Yuna. As you three settle down in one of the middle rows, for which you almost fought off a junior, you are giddy with excitement to see Minho perform. And Hyunjin and Yeji of course.

You had tried to go to the dress rehearsal the previous day, catching the last few minutes of the performance and it was safe to say that the performance was going to be a hit. This time you didn’t try to sneak around, instead you waited after rehearsal and walked back with Minho, Hyunjin and Yeji. The vibe between Minho and you had shifted since that evening, he had texted you memes twice the next day and the previous evening, you both had walked close enough for your shoulders to brush while laughing about baseless things. If Hyunjin and Yeji noticed, they didn’t say anything and even gave the two of you some space by racing each other. For all the grace they both had on stage, they were complete idiots.

Your heart starts beating faster as the performance begins and you watch in a daze the whole time. All of them killed it from start to end. You were almost emotional watching Yeji and Hyunjin shine bright during their solos. Minho was on fire throughout the whole performance and you thought you dreamt of him looking at you during his solo- which was practically too hot for you to physically handle.

Once the performance is over, Jeongin, Yuna and you walk over to the green room to meet your amazing friends. You run over to congratulate your friends and even manage a small "nice performance" for the other members. The entire green room is filled with members of the dance team and their friends, all shouting and laughing. Amongst the chaos and happiness in your friend group, you can't help but look around for Minho. Catching your eye Hyunjin tugs at your shoulder signalling you to lean in as he says, "Go to the backside of the auditorium."

You look at him confused for a second before he gives a pointed side-eye that says "Don't act like you don't understand". You give a shy smile thanking him and inform Yeji that you'll be back and quietly slip out through the back door of the auditorium as Hyunjin told you to. Once you close the door behind you, a cool gush of wind makes you rub your shoulders for warmth as the green room's ruckus dies into the evening's silence. You look around for him and see a silhouette standing at the right edge leaning on the railing and looking out at the campus gardens.

Taking a deep breath you slowly approach him. As if sensing your presence, he whips his head around.

"Y/N." He says softly and you walk closer to see his left hand stretched out. You freeze in your spot, five steps away from him, gaping at the hand. He sees your confusion, smiles, walks toward you, and grabs your right hand. You stand there watching him and feel your feet move on their own as he helps you stand beside him facing the gardens, hands still interlaced. Your brain seems to short-circuit as you just stand there, still as a statue, hyperaware of his touch and the tingles it left in your body.

After what feels like a minute or an eternity, you are no longer aware of worldly concepts like time, he clears his throat and you see him angle his body toward you from the corner of your eyes. This brings you back to reality and you turn your face toward him and see how gorgeous he looks under the moonlight, hair all messed up, his shirt still clinging from the sweat due to the performance and lips spread into a soft smile.

"Hi." He says with an expectant smile on his face.

"Hey," you hear your own voice sound distant and breathless. It would be embarrassing how weak you were from this boy if you didn't know that he deserved all the love and attention in the world.

"So... you really didn't want to see me perform I guess." His tone is playful and there's a smirk on his face.

"Wha- What no... I did want to see you perform."

"Then you just didn't like it I guess. Tsk tsk." He mockingly shakes his side to side as the girn grows wider on his face. Your face heats up in embarrassment and you thank god that the only light around the place is hitting on his face and not yours.

"I never said that." You say in a low shy voice (again, borderline embarrassing).

"You didn't say anything good about the performance either. At least to me." He pauses and looks at you before turning to the garden again, "I heard you throwing compliments around like confetti inside,, to your friends."

You immediately feel your stomach drop in guilt and very little excitement (The Minho wanted your validation!!).

"Oh. Oh no, I- I didn't mean to... It's just," you take a small breath as he turns to face you again with an eager expression, "I can't really think right now with you holding my hand and looking all gorgeous and hot, and I keep thinking back to your moves on stage which were straight up sinful Minho." The words come out before you can process it and your eyes widen as you realise what you said and see that Minho's smirk has grown exponentially smug before he breaks into soft laughter.

You silently groan putting your head down on the railing. Minho stops laughing and tugs at your hand which makes you slightly face him. "Hey, don't be embarrassed." He says with that soft, kind voice of his.

"Easy for you to say." You mumble as you look at your hands, one still intertwined in his. He uses his other hand to lift your chin up to face him, you swear you can hear your heartbeat as loudly as a gunshot fired into the dead of the night. His eyes are soft, a twinkle in them, and he has the prettiest smile on his face as he takes in your face.

"I still want a proper compliment Gorgeous." He says and you choke on empty air at the term of endearment (the irony rather). He lets out a chuckle at that and raises his eyebrows for you to go on as he holds your other hand in his. "Can you even breathe right now?" He jokes and you snap out of the daze.

"Jerk," you say pulling your hands from his, turning away with a huff.

"Y/N... come oonnn..." He whines and you involuntarily laugh and turn to see him pouting (lost track of all the embarrassing things you do for him at this point). "Pleaasseeeee", he says with the cutest pout and puppy-dog eyes.

You sigh. "Well, you did amazing." The pout is intact on his face, indicating he wants to hear more. "I- I couldn't take my eyes off you the whole time. I saw Hyunjin and Yeji only during their solos." You admit sheepishly. You are still not sure where all this sudden courage is coming from. You are not the most vulnerable or soft person, in fact, your friends constantly teased you for being nonchalant and tactful during most situations. Lee Minho was going to be the death of you.

He straightens at the admission from you, eyes widening and jaw opening in surprise. A smirk plays up on your face at the opportunity to see him lose his cool.

"Have you forgotten your manners or are you too flustered to say thanks?" You tease not letting the opportunity go to waste. His demeanour changes and the shyness on his face is replaced by something darker, like trouble. He slowly walks towards you, like a cat prancing towards its meal, and you take a step back till you are flush against the railing as he keeps walking closer. You think your heart will fail if he keeps doing it. He stops an inch from your face, placing both his palms on either side of you on the railing.

"Let's see who is too flustered now..." His voice is deep and gravelly. You gulp and stare at his face, not having the courage to do anything else. He starts leaning towards your face, his eyes momentarily drift to your lips and god help your poor soul.

"Min-Minho.. wha-what are y-you doing?"

Your voice breaks and his lip tilts slightly before he speaks, "Can I kiss you?" His voice has gone an octave deeper and your heart skips several beats. All you can manage is a small nod in approval and he shakes his head. "Say it, Gorgeous."

Jesus this man is out to kill you.

"Ye-yes." The word leaves your mouth more like a question but the smirk on his face tells you he is satisfied. He leans in more, your lips almost connecting and you close your eyes waiting for his lips to touch yours. One beat, two beats, three beats and the effect never comes. You open your eyes in confusion to see Minho has moved a little back, with the proudest smile on his face.

Before you can begin to voice out your confusion he speaks. "I will kiss you...", you're still confused, "Only if you pass your finals."

"Huh?" That's all you can think and say.

"I said what I said."

"What does that even mean? Why did you ask to kiss me and then not do it... are you crazy! I swear to god if this is some sick joke to you, I will murder you Lee Minho." You are fuming, your face is burning up and you're embarrassed.

"I- no no you've got it wrong. I'm sorry I didn't mean to... I was teasing. Its... I have wanted to do this for a while now... but I thought maybe you don't really like me or... God!" He groans and runs a hand through his hair.

"What do you mean?"

He turns around to look at you, eyes wide and his hand fidgets in nervousness.

"Y/n I- I like you... I have for a while. I saw you during a freshman-year party as you came to help a very drunk Hyunjin. I thought you were his girlfriend for an entire year because you both were very close so I kept my distance. Last year I got to know that you both were just friends and really wanted to get to know you."

He stops and sighs, he positively looks scared and tired. You feel bad but your own confusion and insecurity clouds your mind.

"Then why didn't you?"

He looks straight into your eye and lets out a scoff.

"Did you even know me until two months back?"

All you can do is stare back because you are guilty. Even you had been asking yourself how you had never noticed Minho in all the times you've hung out with the dance team after performances. You had even known Chan, the team leader back when you were freshmen. But somehow missed the one person you seem to care about right now.

"That's what I thought." He looks dejected. You really want to hug him, which is surprising considering you don't even like hugs usually.

So you walk up to him, closing the gap between the two of you in three steps and wrap your arms around his waist and feel him freeze. Your head reaches near his shoulder, and you lean into it because there is some unbridled courage in you that you are not about to waste. After a beat or two you feel his arms wrap around your waist and you wait for the butterflies and nerves but instead, you feel your heartbeat slow down. It feels... comfortable.

"I'm sorry. I am not exactly the most observant person. Especially around the dance team because I am way too in awe and kinda scared. I don't think I would've been friends with Yeji and Hyunjin if I had not met them outside of the team. But after the last two months, I don't even understand how I missed you. Especially with how you dance and not to forget that smart brain of yours. But yeah... I'm sorry" The words fall out of your mouth on their own but it feels right.

"Not your fault. I did keep myself very much out of the limelight because I was... I don't know, maybe scared of rejection. But yeah, wish I'd spoken to you earlier." You can feel his words. You also feel his heartbeat slow down.

"I don't regret anything that happened though." His voice sounds a lot lighter this time.

"Neither do I."

You slightly pull back to see his face and try to get out of the embrace but he holds onto you tight. An involuntary smile creeps up your face.

"So... what happens now?"

He thinks for a second and a glint forms in his eyes.

"What do you want to happen?"

You like this.

"Three things. I want you to continue tutoring me. I also want to be your girlfriend and... I need you to kiss me now." You see him start to speak and continue before he can. "If you say you won't do that until I pass, I swear to god Lee Minho, I will never let you talk to me or touch me ever again." His whole face goes into a pout and it makes you regret your own condition because it seems impossible to stay away from this guy- in any capacity.

"Then I guess I'll just have to kiss you until you pass and then reward you with more kisses after that."

He is grinning ear to ear, looking all cute and radiant. You're sure your also grinning equally widely. You nod your head fiercly and he chuckles with his head thrown back (Gorgeous, as always). He slowly leans in and your eyes close shut.

This time you feel his lips on you, soft and firm. You had thought about this moment far too much but nothing came close to the real thing. The kiss felt perfect, delicate but assured and blissful. It felt like all of the universe had frozen in place and only the two of you existed in this endless bliss.

That is until you heard hoots from somewhere and reluctantly break the kiss to see all of the dance team and your friends cheering on for both of you.

"Neither of us was subtle huh?" You joke.

"Oh please, I was so subtle I practically melted into the background for a year." You playfully hit his chest as he laughs and waves off the hooligans cheering on.

"Ugh, it's gonna be so much harder to keep my hands off you during tutoring sessions now." He groans and you can't help but blush and let out a content laugh.

Maybe the computer science elective was a good decision after all.

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

Text

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader is now his past client. drinking alcohol and getting drunk/tipsy is mentioned. things are starting to get suggestive in this one. also, smut is coming very soon. :))

word count: 3.0k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

a/n: these past few days have been real tough ones for me, but I thought I'd give you guys an update with this fic since I'm really excited to reveal the other parts to it. after I finish posting this series, I'm going to spend a few weeks working on finishing up my wip list. 🤓 and THEN- since my poll just finished, I've officially decided to start working on the felix longfic summer!au series after I complete everything else. also, I hope to open up my requests again within the next month or two, so please look forward to everything I've got planned! 🤭 also- please continue to support and love skz throughout this season of their new comeback... try to buy their albums/stream the new music if you can so that they have a chance to win at the year-end awards... let's strive for a mama win this year, you guys!!💞

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The first thing you noticed when you awoke was the quietness. Your ears weren’t used to the silence, as your mind had been crammed with so many voices and shouts and laughter and blasting music for hours on end.

But all at once, the stark change was downright unnerving.

That, and the fact that you couldn’t feel the warm presence from before at your side anymore.

Cracking your eyes open slowly, you came to the stark realization that the living room was… empty. There wasn’t a single sign of life anywhere. The floor was picked up of any sort of mess - the game controllers put away, the bags of chips and candy and cans of beer all having disappeared. The tv was still on, showcasing a dark ambiance screen saver of a fireplace. The living room curtains were closed shut tightly, blocking you from catching a glimpse of the moon just outside. Other than that, the only light filtering into the room came off to the side, where the hallway lead into the adjoining kitchen.

You threw the warm blanket off of your legs, adjusting your dress and running a hand through your hair as you made your way to the only remaining light source. Like a moth to a flame. You didn’t know how long you had slept, but seeing as it was still dark out - you noticed the dim sky through a window as you passed through the hallway - you assumed only an hour or two. Surprisingly, your rest had helped to stave off your hangover, and you weren’t feeling nearly as tipsy as you were right before you dozed off.

As you neared a small table that was placed in the hallway, you read that it was approaching three in the morning. Damn, you had surely overstayed your welcome.

Upon stepping into the kitchen’s threshold, you came face-to-face with a busy figure at the counters. With a proud back and messy, black locks. He was humming a low tune to himself, as he wiped down the pristine marble with a damp cloth.

“Hi,” is all you could manage, voice coming out a little scratchy from disuse and the dryness from all the alcohol.

He turned around on you, face lighting up with surprise. He didn’t expect you to be awake, it would seem. “Hi yourself,” he said, as he finished polishing up the counters and made to throw the towel in a nearby basket that you assumed held dirty laundry. “I was just going to go out there and check up on you.”

You toed at the ground, having taken off your heels early on in the night. Clearing your throat in the sudden awkwardness that had sprung up between the two of you in the past few hours, you said, “When did the guys leave?”

“Just a little while ago, I’ve been cleaning up since then- they always leave a bomb for me to repair after a party like this.” Minho was leaning against the farthest counter, his eyes trained on the nearby marble that he had just cleaned. Like he couldn’t stand the sight of you. Like you were annoying him by just your presence alone.

You swallowed around the dryness in your throat, already feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the complete one-eighty that he had taken in regards to you.

It hurt.

It hurt really fucking bad.

But then, you found yourself talking, and before you even realized it, the words were flowing out of your mouth, unbidden and unstoppable. “I-I’m sorry I dozed off- I totally overstayed my welcome…”

Minho pulled his eyes away from the kitchen counter then, leveling you with those warm irises of his that seemed to soften just a tiny bit. His brows furrowed at your distressed state, lips falling open slightly in confusion. “Don’t worry about it, you’re always welcome here.”

“No, I think coming here was a bad idea,” you started, the tears finally breaking free and racing down either of your cheeks. Your face felt like it had been lit on fire, as you flushed violently from the embarrassment and humiliation of it all. “I-I sorry, I just… I should go-”

And you were turning out of the kitchen then, down the hallway, towards the front door. Your little sniffles rang out against the walls that slowly felt like they were closing in on you, your heart echoing in your ears as the blood rushed through your system.

You didn’t hear your name being called out until you were stopped dead in your tracks by fingers clutching onto one of your wrists. They pulled and pulled, desperately and quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice strained and low in his throat. The tears made your vision blurry, as you stared in front of you, taking in the small painting of a cat that was placed near his front door. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m-”

You let out a tiny scoff, shaking your head, trying to clear your mind from all of the murky thoughts that ran through it. “You can’t even look at me. You haven’t been able to all night, so just… just forget it. I knew it was a horrible idea coming tonight anyway, I should’ve listened to myself.” When you tried to yank your wrist out of his grasp, he only clutched on tighter, fingers digging into your palm.

“Please, don’t say that, I loved having you here tonight- everyone did.”

“Yeah, but you sure didn’t act like it.”

“And I’m sorry for being such an asshole. I- it’s just been really hard for me, that’s all.”

You turned around, finally catching sight of his face. Cheekbones dusty with shadows, lips pressed into a wavering line, chest falling in short, anxious breaths. And then you noticed his outfit, for the millionth time that night. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it back in the kitchen, but the zipper on his tight black shirt had fallen even further down his chest than ever before, teasing and teasing at what lay underneath.

Swallowing at that, you met his gaze. He was a little bit taller than you, and you realized how closed-in the space around you felt… practically cornered in the hallway, near his door but not too near. “What’s been hard? What are you even talking about, Dr. Lee?”

He ran a frustrated hand through his midnight tresses, heaving a large sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, almost like it pained him to say his next words. “First, you suddenly disappear from everything- no more phone calls, no more visits, no more glimpses of you passing by during the work week. Then, you unexpectedly show up again at that cafe and try your hardest to avoid me altogether. And then, you appear right in front of my eyes, looking like-”

Stopping himself, he bit down on his plush bottom lip, his eyes running down the length of you. Practically undressing you with his stare alone. And just that sight alone caused you to squirm in your spot. Lit a match deep inside of you.

When his eyes locked with yours again, you found enough courage to speak again and you somehow recovered from his blatant perusal of your body. “What? How did my showing up tonight change things?” Without thinking, your hands were traveling up the front of him, landing on either of his broad shoulders and pulling him a little closer to you.

He swallowed, his stare practically devouring you whole as he allowed you to draw him near. So that you could catch his scent - of warm chamomile and sweet cookies. “I thought I was doing better- thought I was strong enough. But then you showed up tonight looking so fucking ethereal - like an angel rising from a glorious throne - and I just… I couldn’t take it any longer,” you felt your lungs constrict at his confession, heart thumping wildly against your ribcage. “But I know what you think, that… that I’m just your local vet and nothing more and-”

“Y-You think I look like an angel?” You asked, voice turning breathless. From the nearness of him, from his words. But especially, the things he was telling you. They sounded so sweet on his tongue, so whole and flawless.

Minho nodded, slowly, staring down at you with those coffee-coloured eyes of his. “But you’re more than just that. You’re… this unobtainable goddess that I just- can’t get enough of.”

“I wore it for you.”

A beat of silence, a slight intake of breath, and then,

“What?”

“I said… this outfit, I wore it tonight only for you and you alone.”

You heard movement. Limbs shifted and the air surrounding you crackled with tension. Then, fingers were dancing underneath your chin, and a warm palm was pressing into one of your cheeks. You leaned into the touch, peering up at him.

Marveling at the way that his mouth hung open slightly in apparent shock, as his mind slowly began to process your words. His eyes raced over your face, again and again. Like if he peered at you long enough, he’d be able to tell whether you were lying or not.

But then a sardonic kind of smirk spread across his lips, as he canted his head to one side and raised a dark, perfectly-manicured eyebrow your way. “Well, that’s just comical because I wore this for you tonight... but, did you know that mint is my favorite color?”

Your eyes widened at that and your heart skipped a beat at the realization that you had worn his favorite color.

To a party that he had hosted.

At his place.

The implications that you hadn't even known you were making by your outfit alone were beyond you.

Your focus landed on his attire again - for what felt like the millionth time already. At the loose, dark cargo pants and the matching shirt that was just begging to be taken off.

Feeling yourself mimicking his expression, you reached out and played with the silvery zipper that was positioned halfway down his chest. “I like it- a lot. Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you all night.”

A dry laugh escaped him, and you watched, as his pupils brightened with a certain kind of heat. “That much I could tell…”

And before you could even grasp what was happening, his touch against your cheek was moving, fingers traveling over to your mouth. Tracing the outline of it, before his thumb played with your bottom lip, pulling it out slightly from the way that it had been held between your teeth.

The panic began to rise inside of you then, as you began to understand what was happening. What he was about to do. Why he was leaning into you ever so slowly.

Your hands were on his chest in an instant, stopping him from going any further. His fingertips burned on your flesh - scorching your chin and lips in tandem. “W-We shouldn’t…” You gasped out, voice turning strangled from how badly you wanted everything. Him, and his love, and his attention. It hurt you to your core, to push back from the very thing that you had been pining over for so very long.

“Why?”

“B-Because… I was your client and things were always supposed to remain professional and you-”

His thumb swiped at your bottom lip again, tantalizing and tempting you all at the same time. And for a moment, you almost gave into your inhibitions and allowed him to draw nearer to you. But then you remembered who he was- and who you were. And how such opposites could never mesh well together. Perhaps things would be okay for a little while, but gradually, over time, mistakes would happen, promises would be broken, and you’d be back at square one all over again… soul torn into two pieces from the harsh breakup of a relationship that you had thought would last forever.

“What, Y/N? I’m what?” He asked, a slight harshness dripping into the words. Almost like he had heard such sentiments before. Almost like, all of the women he had been with in the past had been in your same position, at one point or another.

“You’re so much better than me - you’re this incredible, famous, successful businessman and doctor and I’m just… I’m just a woman who lives in a shitty apartment in a sketchy part of town because I barely make breadcrumbs and survive from paycheck to paycheck.”

The finger tracing across your mouth stopped then, as he took in your words. And as much as you wanted to avoid his gaze at that moment, you found that you couldn’t. His stare was like twin magnets, and your soul was a piece of metal. Irrevocably drawn, no matter what you did. So you caught his intense regard, the way that his pupils darkened and practically bored into your soul wholly.

Like he was ripping the very fabric of your being apart, as he studied your form and who you were, and what you had just revealed to him.

So there it was.

You had spoken your biggest fear out into the open, where he would consequently drop you like a hot, rotten potato because ‘he doesn’t date broke girls.’

“And you think that just because you make less money than me - just because you don’t live an ideal, rich life, that you don’t deserve me?” His palm was moving across your face as he spoke the words in a hushed whisper. So that only you could hear him, in that intimate, swarthy corner of his apartment’s hallway. His fingers threaded through your hair, tucking a few of the loose strands behind one of your ears. “That you don’t deserve my love?”

You swallowed thickly, shoving all of the heartache and arousal to the deepest parts of your mind.

Because truly, what was even going on?

Were you living in a dream right now?

Did Dr. Lee Minho just confess that he’s in love with you?

It was all too much for your slightly-tipsy mind to process, and suddenly, your legs were turning shaky, melting into a pile of jelly on the ground. You were swaying forward, and if it hadn’t been for Minho catching you at that moment, you would have toppled onto the cold tiled ground like a complete fool.

You peered up at him with wide eyes, mouth falling open slightly in the shock of it all. In the way that he held onto you so completely - so firm yet delicate all at once. His face was contorted into a mix of sadness and… anger.

“You’re just this… amazing guy, who seems untouchable and all-knowing. And- and practically every woman in the city wants you at this point. I see them, I hear them… when they come into the clinic, they ogle you and talk about their newest outfits to try and make you fall for them. And I just- I can’t compete with all of that. I only have a few outfits that I wear daily that look decent enough, and this dress is something I’ve had since my Freshman year of university and I-”

“None of that matters to me, Y/N,” Minho said, breaking through your incoherent ramblings and dumping an ice-cold bucket of water on your entire being. He never broke your gaze, as his arms that were still holding you moved in fluidly. And then, you were being pressed up against the nearby wall, with one of his palms clutching at your waist and the other threading through your locks. His fingers gripped gently, pulling at the roots. He moved closer still, wedging a knee between either of your legs so that he was but a mere hairsbreadth away from your face. “I only want you. I don’t care about the paychecks and the pomp and the jewels that all of those other women can offer. I just want you… I want all of you, even the ugly and sad and broken bits.”

You felt the tears stinging at the corners of your eyes before you even spoke again. “Do you really mean that? Are you truly sure that you don’t want a woman who lives the same lavish lifestyle as you?” You asked, shoulders shaking from the sharp inhale that you took upon his proximity and everything that he was telling you.

He flashed you a tiny grin, fingers resting at the nape of your neck and messaging gentle circles into the skin there. “I’m more sure about this than I’ve been about anything in my entire life.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours in an intimate kind of way. “But one word from you - one sign that you don’t feel the same way - and I’ll be gone from your life forever.”

“No,” you blurted out in a strangled voice, even surprising yourself with how fast the word slipped from your lips. “No- I want this. I’ve wanted this so badly for so long and… and I just, I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you feel the same. That you care about me to the extent that I do for you.”

Minho’s warm breath fanned against your nose, as he grunted out a quiet laugh. You turned your gaze up then, finding the way that his eyes were alight with a myriad of feelings… but the one that was the most potent was love.

And as clear as day, you realized that all of the times in the past that he had looked on at you with such soft eyes, he was silently conveying his love for you.

“Can I kiss you now?” It felt like the world was dropping out from right under your feet, as you took in all of him. The way that his black hair was disheveled from the long night and the way that a certain kind of sparkle now shined on every feature of his face.

You canted your head to one side, giving him your best easy smile. “Please- I thought you’d never ask.”

And then he was leaning into you - finally - and all of the other worries and hurts and feelings leftover inside of you all but dissipated, as the two of you fit together like two immaculate puzzle pieces made to be conjoined.

Mouth against mouth, tongue swiping against tongue. And everything was blissful and effervescent and otherworldly.

To be continued...

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whyyougottadothatbro · 10 months

Text

what a drag to love you like I do...

L. Minho

Genre: angst without comfort. Lee Minho x reader.

Warnings: heavy angst, abandonment, neglect,underlying theme of family issues, vague mentions of self harm in the beginning(just once), reader experiencing long term emotional detachment with themselves and their surroundings. Let me know if I have missed any ♡

Word count: 2.9k~ words.

A/n: the world's biggest shout out to @operation-steal-chans-laptop for being the nicest bubby and reassuring me about this fic, they're the bestttt ♡♡♡♡

The usual comfort of Minho’s arms wrapped around yours felt suffocating in the few moments that followed after you’d step in your house. It was routine for you by then to come back to an empty house, so Minho’s sudden appearance almost felt foreign and out of place as he had practically stuffed his head in the crook of your neck. Minho’s kisses had been your favorite thing on the face of the planet, but you weren’t as sure of that statement anymore. His hold felt like a memory your brain purposefully erased without even ever telling you. Your body gravitated to it as it would have because that’s what you had started to identify and remember as home, but your brain saw it as the supermarket where your family had abandoned their 6 year-old daughter once, and hadn’t comeback till hours had passed and you were done bawling your eyes out and nothing but sniffles escaped your trembling lips. It was where you were abandoned and would be forgotten at again, and it was dangerous. Danger would usually send young little you into overdrive, making you fight for survival, but it made you feel numb now. The sirens would still blare, the headlights would still flash you in the eyes till they became unbearable and you had to close them inevitably, but now your hands didn’t raise up to protect your head from the damage anymore. Neither did you move, you just waited for it to come, run you over, and to render you lifeless again, but well the bleeding was never strong enough, the scars littered all over your body gave testimony for that. They bled, they bled often, reopening every now and then, but the bleeding was never strong enough, the cut wasn’t deep enough. Shallow cuts, shallow breathing, dizzy spells, and multiple pills, it didn’t bother you anymore.

The art of numbing yourself to a majority portion of your life came with practice and well, consequences. While the consequences on the surface looked like zoning out in the middle of a conversation and a constant need for some sort of stimulation, they spread their ends deeper into your being and grasped their roots strongly into your entire existence. Chunks from your earlier years just literally gone like they never happened, emotions never lasting longer than a few fleeting moments, and most of it was fine. Sure, you didn’t feel as crazed and as deeply in love with your boyfriend as he was, you knew you loved him with everything that you could, but your everything felt so small against Minho’s smallest gestures of affection. It had never felt out of place for you to feel like the smaller person in all your personal relationship dynamics, of course you were made to believe and brought up that way. Breaking out of that habit with academics and your work had been easy, but personal relationships? That’s what the norm was. Everything the other person did was completely fine and you? Well, you weren’t even human enough so how dare you make a mistake?

But this time, it wasn’t.

You realized how you’d been up in your head for the past 5 minutes and Minho was still attached to your form while your hands laid limp by your side, body unmoving but your boyfriend of 3 years was yet to take a hint. Your hands reach up to wrap around his shoulders to give him a light pat on the back to acknowledge his presence, but his presence in itself had shaken you enough that your ability to process things had already boiled down to a quarter and maybe your brain was back at what it did best, numbing you so you couldn’t feel.

“I didn’t expect you to be home, I’m sorry you had to clean up after me. Why didn’t you tell me earlier you were coming?” the silence had been too loud for the past 25 minutes. The same silence earlier would have been comfortable. Hums and nods with no words spoken till you both eased into the night was the norm, and probably one of the most possibly liberating experiences of your life but this, this what you were stuck in right now felt like ropes served to you on a silver platter that didn’t take your consent before wrapping itself around your throat and chest, constricting your airflow just enough to let you barely breathe. Your question brought Minho’s attention to yours again, his steps slow and calculated across the living room. Minho felt his heart feel as constricted as yours did when he realized you hadn’t picked a shirt of his to wear to bed how you usually did. He didn’t blame it on you, they probably didn’t smell like him anymore anyways.

Lee Know from Stray Kids was a busy busy man and that was the first obstacle one had to deal with when it came to dating him. Weeks spent with no physical trace of him other than being on your phones to keep up with each other. Texts unanswered for hours, calls going straight to the answering machine much more often than the average person’s ability to handle, a partner that was mostly exhausted and often not as emotionally available as the regular person would be but of course that was fine. You weren’t much of a texter anyway, and would rather deal with your problems on your own, and going out? Pfffft who wants to do that, when you could just stay in and order food to your doorstep, right...?

Things were great with Minho; sure it was also your first time seriously dating anyone after high school and maybe you didn’t really have much personal experience to compare your relationship with Minho to, but nothing had ever felt particularly wrong in your time with him. Minho steps up to you finally, hands restless against his sides so he just chooses to ruffle his hair instead, though he wishes he could just hold yours into his instead. He answers your questions when you prompt him to it with a raise of your eyebrows.

“yeah, I took a few days off, it’d been a while since I stayed home”

Home. You almost chuckled when he said that, but chose to acknowledge it with a light nod another hum in response. Your steps make way to the kitchen to search through for what you could whip up for your usual excuse of a dinner. Dinner with Minho was different though. Dinner with Minho when you both worked in the kitchen after a long week to make something hearty for the both of you, when you acted like his own sous-chef, finally sitting down to eat meals that spoke the most amount of love you could have possibly experienced. Maybe you didn’t experience love like Minho did, where he’d take fragments of memories and store them away as small trinkets of joy into his showcase of love that had your face all over it and he would just have to pick one memory from it to put a smile on his face on a bad or gloomy day. But you were sure you experienced love because he tried to give you his love and you would try your absolute hardest to not let go of his smile after he’d been pleasantly surprised with something new that he tried to make. You hoped your brain won’t let go of the memory of Minho’s smiles, so you’d made sure you smiled like him when you wore his earrings, the gentle weight feeling like his nose that would nudge your cheek on days he had off and you sadly didn’t . Even if your brain was loopy with things every now and then, your muscle memory would definitely do its job, Minho’s smiles weren’t just things you’d let your squeaky machine of a brain let go of so easily, they were your trinkets.

Taking out leftovers of the previous night from the refrigerator, you pull out the saucepans to heat them up, of course for one. Minho hadn’t eaten at home in a while, well Minho hadn’t been home in a while. But even before that, Minho had almost stopped eating at home altogether for a good bunch of weeks to make you realise there wasn’t a point to cooking for 2 anymore. Dance practice would stretch late into the night, he had to work for the comeback, he was out with the boys so he ate with them, he was too exhausted so he crashed onto the bed the moment he was home, he was spending the weekend at the dorms because Music Core had been exhausting and Monday schedules looked too dreadful, Minho hadn’t simply eaten at home for almost 2 months till it was time and he left for tour again. Presuming he already ate wasn’t a bad presumption and Minho understood where all of that came from. He sighs as he notices the barely put together dinner you were now serving in your plate, movements sluggish and automated as you looked like you didn’t have a single thought in mind.

Minho would be lying if he said he didn’t saw it coming and it definitely wasn’t his first time witnessing this. Every time the two of you ended up in a rough patch, you’d usually just say its fine, apologise to him for your mistakes, even if there weren’t any, and just grow distant for a few days till you eventually came back. And you did, you always did. But he couldn’t deny the creepy feeling that had his insides feel like they were all jumbled up and placed wrong. Like the elevator he was standing in had suddenly stopped and nobody had been answering the help bell. He knew the elevator would be back up and running in no time but he couldn’t avoid the ‘what if’s that had started to slowly creep up his body like vine. You play around with the food in your plate as the elephant in the room stares judgingly at the both of you, wondering when you’ll finally address it.

“Baby I’m really sorry for what I did, I know it was really horrible on my end to do that, love…..” Minho reaches for your free hand, which lays limp in his hand for a few seconds, and then grabs his hand to give it a gentle squeeze. Your hand leaves his to busy itself with your plate of food again, head slowly nodding in response to his words. Minho was quick to realize that talking to you about what had happened would be the best approach rather than beating around the bush. Minho waits, and waits some more till you finished your meal and pushed your chair back to get up, the loud noise disrupting the eery silence that had settled over your house. Minho gets up as well, following behind you as you start on the dishes, because the thought of him doing the dishes like he once used to felt so strange and foreign, your brain had pushed you to finish them before he could even get to it.

“y/n can you at least say something, get mad at me, shout just give me something hm?” he pleaded as he stood to your side. You were unresponsive again for a few seconds, and before Minho could say anything again, you finally address him,

“What am I even supposed to say Minho? What do you expect me to say to you?” you’re calm, surprisingly calm, too calm for his liking even. Minho’s face falls again, dejected as he looks at you eyes pleading as he’s at a loss of words again.

“y/n…”

“Minho can I ask you something?” you dry your hands on the kitchen towel as you face him again. His head hangs low again as he nods silently.

“this was probably one of the very few times I really needed you to be there for me Min. You’ve cancelled on dates, heck even forgotten and stood me up so many times, you’ve forgotten anniversaries, I never got mad or objected. This was the one time I needed you to be there for me.”

“y/n I know I fucked up-“ Minho looked up at you to see you teary-eyed again.

“Let me finish please, okay?” you’re still calm, your voice was watery as it was, breaking a bit too, but you were still, eerily calm.

“My parents were in the country for 4 days. I’ve dated you for 3 years, and all I asked for was maybe 3 hours at max for you to have dinner with them. What did you do? Ghost me completely? Avoid me after reassuring me that you were going to be there? Barely 2 hours in the span of 4 days, that’s all I asked for ... unbelievable”

“I know… I’m so so sorry what I did, I have no idea of even how to make it up to you” his tears had started to gather at the corner of his eyes while he blinked furiously to keep them at bay. He wasn’t the one who had been hurt in this entire situation and knew he needed to hear you first. His strong-willed composure almost breaks down when he hears your breath being caught in your throat as you heaved a bit.

“You know- “you sniffle again as your voice betrays you, breaking and causing you to cough, but you continue nevertheless. “You know what the worst part is? You’re one of the few parts of my life that I’m most proud of. I was so proud of you, of us, of what we have, I wanted to show you off to the people that have doubted me the most my whole fucking life. And you know what you did?” your composure starts cracking like a layer of ice frozen on top of a lake, the water underneath beginning to escape on to the surface, your index finger pointing at the centre of his chest,

“You. Fucking. Abandoned. Me.” Each word punctuated with a poke of your finger to his chest and Minho probably wanted to touch his chest to check for any bleeding because it as much as daggers to his chest would have. His uneasiness from earlier that had started at his gut, started to now feel like a cinder block that had been hung off of his heart with a rope and was dragging it down into a bottomless pit of nothingness. To hear and realise he’d done the same thing you’d been subjected to continuously over the years, especially by the ones you’d mentioned earlier, he was sure he couldn’t actually be able to process how big of a problem it had really been. To imagine you sitting in a restaurant, waiting for him to show up while having to deal with your parents and to defend your relationship all alone with zero trace of him, which he was sure, was probably the best case scenario, hurt him in ways he didn’t realise he could have felt hurt.

“I don’t think either of us has anything else to say anymore.” You say with a sense of finality to your tone after a few minutes, you couldn’t take more of you both sobbing with a few feet between you, each too proudful to go hug the other and let go of everything. In your course of being with him, this was probably the most sure about anything that you’d been, it wasn’t your fault. It had been a week since he’d been back from tour, accompanied with him showing zero signs or intentions to stop by your shared place for more than a few hours. Even though this plan had been discussed over multiple times and he’d promised you he’d be there, he chickened out. No contact, no response, just complete silence till he just randomly decided to show up at your house again and you’d been too close to your breaking point. You knew you’d let go of this overtime too like you’d always done, but the ‘maybe’ and ‘what if’ questions had been too loud in your brain for you to just ignore them how you’d always do.

Minho probably sensed that, his fear escalating exponentially. His steps are hesitant as he tries to follow you to your bedroom, your shared bedroom though it hadn’t been shared off late. All you could really think of was to just slip under the covers and cry yourself to sleep, even though you didn’t have coherent memory of when was the last time you’d actually had a good cry. The sound of his footsteps following up right behind yours on the hardwood floor, couldn’t sound louder than the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You turn around in your steps to face him again,

“I need some time. Can you not sleep next to me today please?” you ask him with your hardly regained composure, the last thing Minho wanted was to let you fall asleep that upset,

“its our bed, please just let me try and fix this kitten, hm?” his hands grab onto your forearms with a light hold, form bending down to look into your eyes again, but what you say next, leaves Minho speechless and absolutely heartbroken from how fucking stupid he’d been,

“you haven’t slept in our bed in ages. The last time I checked, it was just on your side of the mattress.”

A/n pt.2 : i am extremely thankful for you to have reached the end, and i hope you enjoyed reading through this. While it was very self-indulgent, i hope it was enjoyable nonetheless. Your comments, reblogs, feedbacks, likes, mean a lot!!!

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hyunnie04 · 5 months

Text

cat and mouse

summary: 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.

pairing: coworker! lee know x reader

trope: enemies to lovers <3, office au

genre: slight angst, smut, and fluff

warnings: fem-bodied reader, oral, creampie, overstim, unprotected sex, bulge kink, spitting, etc. 18+ mdni

word count: 9.8k

a/n: a little practice piece for you guys, i hope i did well;; so sorry this took me so long to write :( i also hope it's cohesive enough, i keep writing this fic on and off sleep deprived lol

tick…

tock…

tick…

to-

“the clock isn’t going to speed up just because you keep staring at it.” the cubicle beside you chirps in, momentarily shaking you out of your thoughts. by now, you’ve trained to pay him no mind as you keep your focus on the clock that reads 4:56 pm, almost taunting you in a way.

a few more minutes and you’ll be home free for the weekend. maybe you can finally relax and get away from your dreaded paperwork. perhaps look through your shopping apps since you had nothing else better to do for the weekend, or better yet- you could run a well deserved bath with that bath bomb you always wanted to use but never got a chance to. all the possibilities sounded heavenly although all that would have to actually wait until you get home.

one other thing that you had been anticipating all day was having that dinner after work with jeongin- your close friend and coworker from a different department. he had been begging you for ages to finally try that one soba place that opened up nearby with him. you being a good friend, agreed.

“you might actually melt the clock if you keep doing that y’know.” your cubicle neighbor- lee minho smirks, now standing and leaning over your workspace.

"what do you want?" pointedly asking him.

"oh, nothing. nothing."

“you just don’t ever shut up, do you?” you deadpan and tilt your chin up to stare at him, minho just offers a sly smirk in return. he always liked to bother and butt into your business for some odd reason.

minho shrugs, “it’s fun teasing you. you do that thing where you scrunch your nose when you get riled up.” a vain visibly pops up from your forehead, but turn to your computer, hoping to drown him out with your typing.

you knew better than to give him a reaction. if you had a penny for how many times that particular vein popped from your forehead because of minho, you’d probably be a millionaire by now.

“oh, one more thing-” the brown haired man saunters back to his desk, and comes back to yours with a huge stack of papers. he unceremoniously plops it down, the annoying feline-like grin on his face.

“what’s…this?” raising an eyebrow at him, you hope it's not what you think he's planning. you have plans. he crosses his arms and pushes his framed glasses back.

“paperwork, of course.” you wanted to strangle him. “yes, i’m well aware that this is paperwork. why is it now on my desk?”

before you could protest any further, “they want this finished by next week.” he leans to practically whisper in your ear. minho grins mischievously after he sees your pink flustered face take a step back.

the humongous stack was already on his desk, so your boss most likely assigned it to him in the first place. you furrow your eyebrows and turn to him, worst fear coming true.

"ohh no. not in a million years." you get up from your seat, avoiding the offending pile. he starts going back to his desk, neatly placing his things in it's organizers.

“why can’t you finish it? you- what are you doing?” but minho was already grabbing his bag and blazer and looking at his wrist watch.

“would you look at the time- thanks for covering for me!” aaaand he's gone.

plopping down on your chair, you bury your face in your hands, stopping yourself from pulling out hair. frustration creases on your forehead. well, you could kiss that dinner with jeongin goodbye. now you definitely want to strangle him.

lee minho. if you were to find a personification of the word annoying, the brunette would certainly be it. that man has done nothing but annoy the hell out of you ever since you started your time in the company. other people in your department often regarded him as one of the most reliable and polite employees here.

you would inwardly scoff at the frequent mention of minho and his apparent “reliable-ness and politeness” since all he was, was just the opposite. to you at least. it was hard to believe at first.

but then you actually saw the way he carried himself with effortlessness and composure, handled business affairs, and how he mingled so seamlessly with fellow colleagues. it was nothing short of professional.

so you had a theory that he was only like that towards you. a complete dick only to you. you although weren’t quite sure why.

the girls in your department would often talk about him as well, mostly for his appearance. you really weren’t one for gossiping but you would listen in sometimes, curious about what they see in him. it was hard not to when they would gush about their workplace crushes and love lives so openly, a tinge of envy seeps through your bones every time it would be mentioned. you have got to get laid one day.

“he’s totally my type, you think i should ask him out?” your other cubicle neighbor says quite loudly during her break. her friend beside her shakes their head, “no, no you can’t.”

“why not? isn't he hot and available?” she asks absentmindedly. you start to zone out for a minute, only catching bits and pieces of their conversation. but you contemplate about what she said for a second, you would be lying if you said that lee minho was unattractive.

far from that actually. distinctly remembering catching a few glimpses of him from your first day, intrigued and interest piqued. his sharp nose and cheek bones, features were like sculpted by michaelangelo himself, his toned and lean figure accentuated by the perfectly well fit suit that he always seem to wear.

you definitely found him attractive at first.

that was until he started annoying you, so all of that was quickly out the window.

but you would probably end yourself before admitting that to anyone. you let out a disgruntled sigh, appearance wouldn’t really matter if he wasn’t such a knob to begin with.

as you approached your dimly lit street, all you could think about was that feline faced jerk. what was he thinking, dumping all that work on you last minute? you felt really bad about cancelling on jeongin, texting him earlier about the sudden change of schedule. the dark haired man you've come to know just replies with a little;

'we'll just try again next week lol'

you breathe out a relieved sigh, thankful that he wasn't mad. kicking the pebbles on the side of the road, you imagined that the little rocks were minho's face. you could not wait until you get home.

“stupid paperwork, stupid minho, stupid…”

your muttering fades and you suddenly stop in your tracks as your elderly neighbor waves you over from her front door, grandma lee or just grandma- as she insists you call her instead.

you bowed and greeted her, “hi grandma, did you need something?” you were quite close with the sweet old lady, her gray hair swaying lightly in the wind.

the elder would often check up on you after hearing that you traveled all the way from your hometown to the city, almost taking you in as her own. you were grateful for the company since homesickness would often creep up. she would also often bring you comically large jars of kimchi which you appreciated greatly.

she smiles as she gestures to the multiple bags she was holding, "i just need a little help getting these inside the house, dear." you take the heavy bags from her hands. what were in these, rocks? grandma claps her hands together in remembrance.

“have you had dinner yet? i made extra.”

grandma sets a bowl in front of you, the sight of seaweed soup instantly brings you comfort. your stomach grumbles as you dig in. she watches you intently as you practically inhale the soup, starved from the long and terrible day you had.

you sent her a polite questioning look. “i want to ask you for a favor.” she finally starts, flicking through the channels of her tv. the weather was on, the forecaster droning on about rain happening this week in the same monotone voice for the past 10 minutes. you look at her and nod immediately, she had done so much for you, doing a few favors aren't going to hurt.

“do you have a car, dear?”

blowing on the steaming hot seaweed soup, you nod again at her question, wondering where this conversation is heading.

“i need someone to drive me to my son’s house tomorrow, i'm staying over there for the weekend and my bags are a little heavy. would that be alright with you, dear?” you’ve heard about her family from her stories when she would have you over like now, little bits and pieces. you smile and agree.

a cheshire grin graces your features after a moment. “what’s in it for me?” it was a joke of course, grandma knew it too. having spent a large amount of time with her, your humor must’ve rubbed off at some point.

you didn’t expect her to actually answer but she replies, “actually, i’d like you to meet my grandson as well. i think you two would get along. he's the same age as you too.”

the aforementioned grandson was someone you’ve seen in a bunch of grandma lee’s hallway pictures. you remember that he was an only child, often the only kid and the lone subject in the photos. your favorite was the kid in red with a toothy grin. he must’ve been 5 when it was taken.

"it was a joke, grandma. i'm sure your grandson wouldn't want a stranger suddenly coming to meet him." she shakes her head,

"nonsense. that boy doesn't know what he wants." you laugh at her persistence. getting another bowl of rice, you ponder her offer for a second. maybe this could finally cure your dull and dry love life, it couldn't hurt to try. if worse comes to worst, you could just pretend it never happened.

“but of course, i’ll drive you there. i have nothing to do anyways.” you say with a mouthful of rice. grandma pats you on the back and continues to flick through the channels once more.

“thank you dear.”

the sunset blears through your windshield, sun rays momentarily blinding you. it was clear as day. the ride to her family’s house was relatively quiet, the elderly lady in your passenger seat preferred to sleep the whole ride through after handing you the address, giving you a moment to leave you in your thoughts.

pulling up to the neighborhood, you let out a low whistle. the house was at the end of the street, steep and uphill. it was surely going to be a struggle to get the car way up there.

you get to the curb, reverse and try to park your car as best as you can. the house was really pretty, you thought. it looked pretty lived in too, but in a cozy way. vines was sprawled all over the brick exterior and flowers had bloomed all over the property.

you wake up grandma and start to haul her luggage up and out the car.

"you go up, grandma. i'll catch up."

after struggling to get the multiple bags of luggage up hill, you finally waddle to the front door. the door was left slightly ajar, probably for your convenience. you took a quick peek around, hoping for someone to let you in.

calling out before entering, you were met with silence. you figured they were too busy catching up so you eventually let yourself in.

the furniture adorning the hallway and rooms were made out of wood, the handiwork and craftsmanship was evident, intricate carvings on each and every one of them. it must’ve been made by grandma lee’s son as you’ve heard from her many stories.

a ginger cat with white stripes greets you as you enter the front door, it strides over to you in intrigue. leaning down and dropping grandma's bags gently, you let the feline sniff your hand before allowing itself to be pet. soon enough it starts rubbing its body on your legs and purring loudly. adorable cat, you thought.

silence fills the house, aside from the soft chatter coming from the other side of the wall. the cat leaves it's spot, not wanting to be pet anymore. you sit up and observe the house again, noticing a myriad of family photos adorning the walls and some of the tables.

coming closer to one of the pictures, again, you encounter the same young boy in red but this time he was wearing a cap sideways and a puffer jacket that seemed to be way too big for him.

"hello! you must be y/n!" a feminine voice suddenly calls out from the living room. you straighten your back from the mention of your name, hoping she didn't catch you closely staring at their personal and probably private photos. grandma lee comes out from the living room as well and walks towards you with a younger and kind looking woman in tow. she had another cat in her arms, this time it's coat was gray with dark streaks.

you smile and greet her politely, exchanging pleasantries. you quietly pick up the neglected bags and place them near the guest room. they continue their conversation with each other from before, you now awkwardly standing in the middle. looking at your wrist watch, you figured you should probably head on home.

"i suppose i'll get going now, it was really nice meeting you." mrs. lee looked startled at your sudden announcement.

"why don't you stay for a while? it must've been a long drive here, you're probably hungry." these two women weren't related by blood but they practically were, having the same idea when it came to hospitality.

"well, i don't want to overstay my welcome. i'm just here to give grandma a ride." smoothening out your non-existent clothes wrinkles in apprehension.

she waves her hand in dismissal, "but you must stay, you're already here anyways." she grins and pats your back. mrs. lee didn't seem to budge at your refusal.

you relented, finally accepting her offer. "my son is in the kitchen whipping something up. he's a great cook." you totally forgot about her son being actually here. the joke offer from yesterday completely forgotten and flew out of your mind. slight embarrassment runs through you, realizing that the offer was somewhat serious. you would surely need to mentally prep yourself for more socialization than you've anticipated.

but you instantly believe her claim that her son was a great cook, the amazing and aromatic smell of what seems to be steak and multiple herbs and spices from the kitchen wafts through out the entire house.

"okay- while we're waiting," mrs. lee gestures for you to take a seat, "you should go sit on the couch, y/n. i've been dying to meet you."

she hands you a mug of hot tea and sits down next to you. "mom here talks about you all the time, thank you for keeping her company."

"it's no problem at all, i like her company too." and with that, the three of you fall into a smooth and comfortable rhythm of conversation. the younger of the two women across from you continues to poke and prod into life, not that you minded. she would ask you about your life, where were you from, where you went to school, and where you went to work and among other things.

she offers you stories of her son gleefully in return, laughing about a particularly embarrassing story when he was younger. you learned that he was quite fond and talented in dancing, loves cats, and loves to cook. oddly enough mrs. lee never mentioned his name at all, you didn't want to pry. now that you've thought about it, grandma hadn't mentioned his name at all either. all you had for a lead was initials you remember seeing etched on one of grandma's photos. you figured you'd meet this person soon enough anyways.

after a while, grandma lee retreats to the guest room they've set up, assuming that she'd want to fix her belongings. mrs. lee starts to drag you around the house, urging you to help her set the plates up and talk more while doing so. midway through placing the chopsticks on the table, the sound of pots and pans clanging from the other room shakes you out of your thoughts.

"mom?" a voice calls out from their kitchen. it must be her son. you slightly raise your eyebrows, he sounds oddly familiar but you can't place your finger who he might've sounded like. you quickly brush it off.

"yes?"

"have you seen the slow cooker?" the man finally reveals himself and pokes his head through the entryway to the kitchen.

you lift your head and lock eyes with the said person. shock freezes your movements, dropping the utensils that you were holding. blinking owlishly in surprise, you weren't sure if what you were seeing was real.

you feel the wind knock out of your lungs. this was not happening. the brown eyes, brown hair, and cat like face from work that you've come to dislike stared back. you must be hallucinating.

standing across from you was lee minho, the lee minho. grandma lee’s grandson. the same one that's been tormenting you all year round. you just couldn't believe it, wondering what kind of luck you had to end up here.

you think back to when you looking (--more like snooping) at grandma lee's framed hallway photos, the kid- that was him all along? you're really bad at recognizing faces, you thought to yourself. well, she certainly made him seem like a complete angel from the stories.

"oh! this is y/n. your grandmother invited her to eat dinner with us." mrs. lee pulls your figure closer into a side hug and beams at her son.

he furrows his eyebrows at you, glancing back and forth at you and his mother. he must be as confused and shocked as you are. "hi." minho says, nodding at your direction. you purse your lips and shuffle uncomfortably in place.

minho again asks where the slow cooker was since the first time he asked was ignored. he was wearing a loose fitting shirt, his broad shoulders looking more prominent. you realize you've never seen him outside of his work attire before. he looked comfortable, domestic even.

his mom says to check the cupboards, paying him no mind and continuing to set the table up. minho nods slowly, eyes not leaving yours and heads back to the kitchen. a little shell shocked about your little encounter, you clear your throat and go back to the task at hand. you'd just have to deal with this for the evening and then you could go home.

when the table was done, mrs. lee turns to you, "y/n? would you mind helping minho over there with bringing the side dishes to the table?" you freeze at the realization that you would have to interact with him alone.

"sure." you say meekly. she thanks you and goes to the guest room to presumably get the older lady for dinner. psyching your self up before entering the kitchen, his broad back facing you. he senses your presence and chuckles.

you were sure he was going to make this whole night unbearable.

"well, this is a nice surprise."

"what are you doing here?" stupid question from you seeing as this was his own house. mentally face palming your head, he hums smugly and starts dividing the side dishes onto smaller plates. you notice his very toned arms flexing as he puts the tubs away.

"i should be asking you that. i didn't expect you to be here." he says nonchalantly, but you could feel a sly smile forming on his face as he speaks.

"neither did i." you grumble and lightly shove him aside, wanting to get the side dishes out to the table already. you ignore the way he looks so domestic right now.

you stare at him from directly across the table, hoping he would keep his mouth shut. he smirks while he eats, purposefully riling you up and glancing at you with a knowing grin.

do not lose your cool, y/n.

silence rings out the dining room aside from the quiet clattering of utensils on plates.

"y/n?"

"i'm sorry?" you snap out of your little less than friendly staring contest with him.

"do... you know each other?" his mother finally breaks the silence and here eyes flickers back and forth between both of you.

"yes-"

"no-"

a full on headache is surely forming now, it's going to be hard to hide your annoyance. quick, think of a lie.

"we're coworkers. same company." you grimace as he answers for the both of you. no use in hiding it now. "oh! that's wonderful." the older lady to your right clasps her hands in delight.

"you didn't tell me you worked together." grandma turns to you grinning brightly. you avoid eye contact with her, nodding and forcing out a smile. you wanted nothing more than want the ground to swallow you up right then and there.

"you two must be close." his mother says, sipping at her drink. you were about to open your mouth to say that you really aren't actually, but minho beats you to the punch.

"we kind of are." minho rests his elbows on the table and turns to you. he's enjoying this. the bastard was enjoying this. resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back to finish your meal.

hatred for the man aside, he really was a great cook as mentioned countless of times. you actually find yourself enjoying the meal he had prepared.

"tell me what you two get up to at work, i want to hear all of it."

you shift uncomfortably in your seat, being honest wouldn't be the best idea. you didn't want these two lovely women to know how much of an unpleasant man their son and grandson is. and it was his house after all, the best decision might be to at least be civil with him.

so you play along with his facade, not wanting to disappoint them even if it was probably going to bite you in the ass later.

minho starts cutting the meat up into bite sized pieces while the conversation between the two ladies continue. he places it on your plate without saying anything. this takes you by surprise, looking at his face for an answer.

the two audience members among the dining table seems to have noticed your little exchange. a wrinkly hand touches over yours catches your attention.

"oh, so are you two..." she trails off, implication heavy on her tone.

"no- no, grandma. i told you i wasn't seeing anyone." you shoot a discrete glare towards minho.

"ah, i see..."

you shrink down your seat for the remainder of the hour, embarrassment flooding your being. why did he have to do that? you were already practically fighting for your life not to get too involved with all this, and he pulls that?

after that very eventful dinner, it was already nearing 8 pm. you figured that you should probably get out of their hair, not wanting to disturb them than you already had. that bubble bath and movie marathon you had planned in your head sounded amazing right about now. maybe that would help you forget about this crazy night.

"grandma," she turns in response, "i think i better get going." you smile at her, digging through your pockets for the car keys. a different cat from the other two that you've met takes long strides, stopping by your feet. you greet it by petting it's head gently. you wondered how many cats they have.

"now? look at the weather dear," you look briefly at the window nearest you, surely enough it was heavily pouring. you deflate at the sight.

"i don't think it's a great idea to drive out in a storm." she looks at you in concern. crap. the conversation at dinner must've carried you away, not even noticing the angry rumble of thunder that came from the sky. she was right, you don't think you could drive out there immediately.

the last time you drove into hard pelting rain, you couldn’t see through the windshield and almost crashed your car in the process. you could still remember how your car swerved and screeched when you couldn't control the way the tires' direction.

reluctantly dropping your hands to your side in defeat, "i guess i can wait it out for a bit." you finally say.

"yes, please do stay. we made extra dessert!" mrs. lee chuckles, seemingly enjoying your presence. glancing at minho, he was leaning on the side of the couch watching the exchange between you three, uncharacteristically silent and expression unreadable.

you reckon he wasn't all that thrilled about the whole thing either.

"the storm isn't letting up." minho sighs next to you, observing the dark and heavy rain pelting the window. it continues to pour down, filing in the silence.

"great." you mumble lowly, crossing your arms. a loud cackle of thunder makes you jump from your spot. he just laughs in response. you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, anxiety quietly eating at you. damn weather man. you should've paid more attention to the forecast.

the smart watch on your wrist flashes with a notification. it was 11 pm now. "you should stay until tomorrow, dear."

you feel a comforting hand on your back, it was mrs. lee. it was only her staying with you two right now since grandma had already retired back to her room.

"tomorrow? oh, i- uh... i don't want to intrude." you stutter and look down, unsure how to accept her offer. but as much as you wanted to turn her down, you knew deep down you don't really have a choice in the matter.

another strike of thunder confirms your pitiful situation.

"i know what you're thinking, you can take minho's room." her words take you aback, that really wasn't what you were thinking. but she wasn't serious, was she?

at the mention of his name and apparent lending of his own bed, he whips his head towards his mother. he points to himself silently and gawks in disbelief.

you try to stifle a laugh at his ridiculous face. it wasn't often that you see minho all flustered.

realizing that mrs. lee might actually kick minho out of his room if you don't say anything, you decide to spare him. "that's okay, i'll take the couch."

"are you sure? the couch isn't the most comfortable..."

you reassure her that the couch is fine and not to worry. mrs. lee takes this as a confirmation that you'll stay for the night. she beams and grabs her son's shoulder,

"minho, do you have clothes that you can lend to y/n?" she catches you about to protest at the unnecessary offer, "don't worry about that, you're going to end up uncomfortable if you sleep in your clothes right now."

she leaves not long after with a quick good night to you both, also not leaving any room for any counter arguments. minho nods after registering what she said, hesitantly gesturing you to follow him towards the room at the end of the corridor.

he was quiet these past few hours, you observed. the annoying minho that you have gotten used to was no where to be found. putting yourself in his shoes, you understood. having a person that you dislike come into your home and spend the night would irk you as well.

the unexpected warm lighting and a subtle citrus scent with notes of jasmine and sandalwood welcomed you upon entering. it instantly brings comfort. not really expecting anything coming into his room, it was truly a pleasant surprise.

you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, not wanting to touch or disrupt any of his space or belongings. he heads straight to his closet near his bed.

"it's alright, uh..."

minho ignores your attempt to refuse and starts digging deep for clothes that he could lend.

okay, nevermind.

you quietly glance at the homey decor that adorns the wall of his bedroom. multiple pictures of what you assume to be his friends were strewn all across the room. some of them seemed to be taken when he was in high school and some more recent. there were doing various funny and serious poses, minho seems to be really well liked.

"alright,"

he starts handing you a pair of black jogging pants and a plain white t-shirt. you reluctantly take the pile of clothes from him, your fingers momentarily brushing. you were certain you could hear your pulse thump in your ears. it confuses you greatly.

"this is the smallest one i have, sorry."

he coughs and rubs his neck, "the bathroom is over there, if you wanna change."

awkwardly shuffling on the way to the bathroom, a sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you lock the door behind. why were you so affected by a simple touch of his fingers? this was minho. you quickly shove the odd feeling down.

you hold the white shirt up to your torso, it was definitely too big. the hem of the shirt reaching your thighs and sleeves reaching your elbows as well.

peeling out of your clothes, and hold up minho's large shirt to finally wear. as you put it on, you could faintly smell the cleanness of detergent and a faint musky patchouli scent. your cheeks burn with the realization that you were really going to spend the night here.

when you return to the empty main corridor, the leather couch was already set up with a cozy looking blanket and multiple plush pillows. you struggle to hide a smile.

tossing and turning, you struggle to find a comfortable position on the couch. the blanket proving to be too hot right now, you push it off. you check your phone out of boredom and the led screen lights up.

1:19 am. it was in the middle of the night and the rain continues to pour outside. the occasional rumble of thunder once again evoking anxiety in you. sighing, you don't think you will be getting any sleep tonight. it's just you and your thoughts for now.

thinking back to this afternoon, the whole situation seems so absurd and surreal. who would've thought that you and minho would pretend being friends even if it was just for one night. it was a strange chance of circumstance.

the door from the end of hallway opens, a scruffy and disheveled minho rubs his eyes to get rid of his sleepiness. you sit up in curiosity to observe his sleepy state. he pads over the wooden floors to the kitchen looking for water, not sparing you a second glance.

when he was out of sight, you start thinking of ways to distract yourself, wanting to already succumb to slumber.

“oh, it’s you.” he says after coming back, finally noticing your slumped figure. "didn't sleep yet?" minho ruffles his hair haphazardly, trying to smoothen it down. you shake your head,

"insomnia. it's the thunder."

"ah."

"the couch is making your neck hurt isn't it?"

"yeah, that too."

he opens his mouth to hopefully offer another solution, but shuts it immediately. he wasn't sure if it would make you comfortable so he just stands there quietly.

"i'll go get you more pillows." he places his cup down on the coffee table before going to his room. minho stops in his tracks when he feels your fingers tug on his shirt. another strike of thunder flashes outside making you flinch.

"stay." you catch yourself saying before even realizing. it's selfish to ask but you don't think you could stand the thunder alone. watching him stare into your eyes, as if looking for an explanation- you offer him no words.

minho takes a seat at the end of the couch silently joining you, sipping at his mug. to fill the awkward silence, you clear your throat and fiddle with the ends of the cotton blanket.

you start thinking of ways to justify your selfish request of making him stay.

"i finished that damn paperwork you dumped on me. dick move by the way." you chortled to try to lighten the mood. he seems to notice your attempts to distract yourself and indulge your sudden desire to chat.

he folds his hands on his stomach, grinning. his bunny like teeth poking out. you always thought it was endearing. "it's fun seeing you all grumpy."

"sadist." you simper, the anger you felt from a yesterday dwindling at the surprisingly pleasant banter.

quietness takes over again. he stares into the celling, pondering. "i didn't know you were close with my grandmother." he says after a while. he avoids your gaze and places his mug back on the table.

"neither did i. it wasn't deliberate," you reply. he turns to you, curious about the story. so you explain to him how you met, for how long and that you didn't even recognize him despite seeing the photos.

he chuckles, "i bet it was this pose, wasn't it?" minho imitates the very same pose that he did in the photo, eliciting another laugh from you. it was exactly the same.

minho shuffles a little bit closer to you, now propping his arm on the back of the couch. you straighten up, now being hyperaware of his presence and proximity. he looks really different without his glasses.

a furry tail suddenly brushes against your exposed leg. you lean forward to check what had just rubbed past you, it was one of the cats. it meows for attention, pawing at the base of the couch.

"your cats are really cute." you watch him pick the orange haired feline and place it on his lap. one by one, two of the other cats that you've seen this afternoon start padding over to where you and minho were seated, jumping on the couch.

"that's dori," he points to the gray furred kitty. "doongie," an orange cat with a predominately white underbelly, "and soonie." the last one who's also orange but more so than the other. minho raises soonie's paw, waving it at you. cute.

"this one looks like you."

you scratch soonie's chin, the low purring getting louder the longer you do it. minho stares longingly at your eyes with an unreadable expression at the comment. you're not paying any attention to him.

after a while, the cats start to get tired of the two of you. they walk of to the end of the couch, now ignoring you and minho. you fold your arms and relaxing into the back of the couch, falling into a deep and comfortable silence that would be sorely missed.

"why do you hate me?" you say abruptly. the curiosity finally won, anxiety gnawing at your every fiber of your being. it was finally starting to be peaceful between you two and actually talking like normal people, your sudden comment might've affected it's chances of becoming true.

his head whips towards your direction in what you assume to be disbelief, furrowing his eyebrows. "since when did i hate you?"

you struggle to not scoff at his blatant charade, "minho, you have it out for me." this was strange and ridiculous. was he really being serious? how could he not be aware of the months of months of his incessant attitude towards you, and only you.

you remind yourself to be calm, to be civil. but he continues to feign ignorance. it was starting to get difficult.

"you don't treat me like the others, you constantly make my life harder by teasing me, and you dump your own paperwork on me. only me. the only time you talked to me normally was just a few minutes ago." your voice rising with exasperation.

"what did i do?" voice ultimately faltering, tired.

"i-..." minho refuses to meet your eyes, offering no solace.

instantly feeling vulnerable by your little outburst and by the lack of response on his end, you hug and bury the plush pillow for comfort. you wanted to go home. you wanted to go home and pretend this conversation did not happen. confrontation wasn't your strong suit.

after a long while of silence, he at last utters a low, "i'm so sorry."

"that was very, very stupid of me." minho's eyes are now trained on the hardwood floor, unable to even glance at you.

"what? the paperwork?" you scoff, "no, not just that. all of it."

you furrow your brows at him, "i just find you really really cute when you're mad." he continues. you stare at him, incredulousness and anger painting your features. before you could give him a piece of your mind, he speaks.

"and i realized i didn't know how to actually approach you normally without the teasing." he purses his lips, the cup on the table long forgotten. minho is staring up the celling now, still refusing to look to your direction.

"would you also believe me if i said i was jealous?"

you don't know what to say in return, heavily processing what he just said. what was happening? your mouth runs dry, confusion knocking the wind out of you.

"of your friend." he says, emphasizing the last part. you try to rack your brain of who he was referring to.

"jeongin?" you tilt your head. he says nothing, confirming the assumption. "i overheard him talking to his friends, bragging about how he was gonna take you out to this restaurant that he wants to drag you to." you couldn't possibly think of a reason why he would be jealous, you and jeongin are just friends. and why was he jealous in the first place?

"why are you so worked up about it? he's just a friend, minho."

"i'm not even sure myself," minho shakes his head in exasperation and turns to you. "but i like you, y/n."

standing there, paralyzed at his unexpected confession. minho likes you? he was giving you crap all year round, and yet he likes you? you shoot him a perplexed look, "wait, what?"

"let me get this straight," you hug your legs, trying to decipher what he was saying. "so your plan was to annoy the hell out of me, dump your paperwork seeing that you don't want me hanging out with jeongin because...you like me?"

"well, now it sounds stupid when you put it like that." he huffs, crossing his arms and pouting cutely.

deafening silence falls between you two, unable to say anything meaningful without stuttering and fumbling through your words. you just sat there, not really saying anything and staring at the floor. realizing that you probably don't feel the same, he sighs. its about time he went back to bed too.

"it's late. you should probably get some-"

before you knew it you felt your pulse roaring in your ears, grabbing his wrist and stopping him from standing up. you were going to regret it if you let him go.

"i like you too."

a magnetic pull causes you both to inch closer together, wordlessly gazing into each others eyes. you make the first move to lean into him, slowly placing an experimental peck on the side of his lips. you unsurely place your hands on his chest, "is this okay?"

his eyes flickering down to your lips and then back to your eyes. he licks his lips, still staring intensely- lovingly at you. he softly grins, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears and returns the kiss on your lips.

eyelids fluttering shut, you feel him press against you with much enthusiasm, deepening the kiss. you cup his cheeks as a reply, roughly pulling him towards you.

you already forgot about the rain outside.

he hoists you up his lap, a hand on your waist as he trails desperate kisses on your neck. minho pays his attention back to your lips, sloppy and open mouthed, saliva stringing from your mouths. urgency and eagerness was reflected in the way you both tangle your arms around each other, touching and caressing every part that you could reach.

all of the unresolved tension was slowly slipping away, replaced by desire.

a sudden meow breaks the two of you out of your trance. the green eyes of soonie stares up at the two of you, sitting quietly and their tail swishing side to side.

you loosen your arms around his neck, you two bursting out in laughter at the interruption.

"do you want to maybe take this to my room?" minho asks, placing a thumb on your lips. you didn't need to think twice.

your head hit his plush pillow, the cold and crisp linen feeling heavenly against your hot and flushed skin. shuffling up to the headboard, you watch minho with hazy eyes as he inches towards your form and props his knee on the edge of the bed.

he smirks as he sinks down on the mattress, hovering over your feverish body. minho sneaks a hand behind your back, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over so effortlessly to the top as if you weighed nothing.

"now, where were we?" he murmurs into the column of your neck, his hot breath sending tingling and electrifying shivers down your spine. you respond by trailing your hands all over his clothed chest, wanting to get the offending article of clothing off.

he chuckles and grabs your wrists, halting you from doing so. minho kisses the inside of your wrist, a teasing smile dawns on his face. you look at him with desperate, pleading eyes, wanting to have him already.

minho adjusts his tight hold on you, biting his plush lips in anticipation. with you now towering over his figure, you lean down to capture the lips that you had been fantasizing about all evening and bury your hands into his hair. the kiss was wet and messy, your tongues sloppily and desperately swallowing each other's moans. a trail of saliva strings from both of your lips.

it was starting to get too hot for your liking. you cease your movements for a second to remove minho’s borrowed shirt from your body. minho’s eyes shamelessly rake over your chest, his finger leisurely trailing the middle of your breasts. you let out a low chuckle, finally unclasping the hook of your bra. you release a breathy shudder upon feeling something hard poking you from where you sat. grabbing both of his wrists, you eagerly put them up to your tits, you could feel your sensitive nipples harden because of his cold touch. minho starts pinching at the sensitive buds, prolonging his eye contact with you, clearly enjoying your erratic squirming.

you suck in a sharp breath and almost topple over him in pleasure as he takes a nipple into his mouth, hot, warm, and wet. it was overwhelming, having no one touch you like this before. he continues to lap at your hardening bud. minho groans, closing his eyes and further burying his head in your chest. your tits were covered in spit, glistening under the subtle light of his night lamp.

minho, while smothering himself in your chest, takes a moment to hook his arm over you. his skillful hands trail over to the waistband of your jogging pants and pulls it down. you oblige, leaning closer to him and lifting your hips so he wouldn’t have to leave your tits. you jump in surprise once you feel a light teasing smack on your now semi exposed ass, only covered by thin panties. it elicits a small moan from you, pulling his head closer. you lightly pet his head and thread your hands in his hair affectionately as he continues his sucking, feeling a coiling sensation from your core.

but before you could cum, he detaches from your breasts, leaving his lips glistening with his own spit and his breath raggedy. a sly grin that you have come to love and hate graces his face upon seeing you whimper. the lack of stimulation makes you deflate, heaving frustratedly at his relentless teasing.

the familiar throbbing heat from your pussy suddenly gives you an idea. his hungry gaze watches you in curiosity. the bulge you were currently sitting on now immediately taking all of your attention. you do an experimental hump on it, hoping to relieve the aching heat from your cunt. minho's hands fly to your hips, groaning at the sensation.

"all this time, you made me think that you hated me-" you moan out, the fabric of his pants providing just the right amount of resistance. "when really you liked me?"

he stifles his moans by biting his bottom lip, his pants surely soaked through now.

"i did say i liked seeing you mad." minho manages to grunt out, licking his lips. you almost reel in disbelief but you keep your composure.

"you're confusing." another thrust.

"and i'm still mad at you." you huff out. hips now wildly humping against every ridge and curve of his cock. the sight of him makes you delirious, even more so that you’re humping against him.

"i-i'll make it up to you," he murmurs lowly, hissing the more times you buck up against him. "fu-fuck..."

despite the way that you were using him, it does nothing to quell the horniness you were feeling, in fact, it even spurs you on further. the wet patch from your panties soak and slowly transfer on to the front of his pants, your own wetness spreading messily every time you grind on his delicious dick, the ridges providing the needed friction that you've been so desperately craving. minho watches you, your tits bouncing up and down- he feels like drooling. "i love it when you use me." he finally breathes out, hands still on your hips, his nails making crescents on your skin. and finally, you cum, his words sending you over the edge.

it tremors through your body, white hot cum leaks out from your panties and you can’t seem to hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on his broad chest. you clench your eyes shut in shyness, suddenly embarrassed from using minho so blatantly. he coos and pats your head in comfort, almost like how he pets his cats.

planning to make it up to him and eat his words, you sit up and shuffle down his hips. you admire the wet patch that stains his front, mouth watering. this surprises him, watching you with tantalizing eyes. you make a move to grab at his waistband, pulling it down slowly. he hisses out in pleasure as the waistband runs over his still clothed dick. minho’s boxers were thoroughly wet, you could see a dark patch on the front where you sat on him and where precum leaked out. you lift up a hand to experimentally give his bulge a tight little squeeze, him letting out a little shudder response.

it hardens even more under your touch- so you decide to tease him to test the waters even further, running your fingers over and over his tent causing him to hiss out, sending you a warning look. taking this as a sign, you lift the waistband of his boxers and stare at his eyes while doing so. it springs up immediately after freeing it from its confines. his long and fat cock stands tall, the tip a deep red, and the veins prominently running along the sides. the sight makes your mouth water in anticipation. you place a thumb on his cockhead, running slow circles on his slit causing it to drool heavily on your hand.

his cat like mouth parts in ecstasy once you start teasing the underside of his length with your hand and licking the oozing liquid up. minho’s hips start thrusting at the sensation, forcing you to hold him down. it was admittedly hard to do so, his thick thighs almost the size of your head but you still managed to restrain him from rutting wildly. the groan that leaves his lips sound is absolutely nothing short of sinful when you finally put your mouth on him. every desperate huff from him leaves you light headed, wishing you could record and replay it over and over again. when couldn’t fit all of him, you resorted to pumping the remaining of the shaft were you couldn’t reach. you egg him on even further by running a hand over his abs, seeing how his thighs and abdomen tense up.

you look up through your lashes to watch minho unravel. his eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the stimulation. while it bobs messily in your mouth, you try to pay special attention to his hot and heavy balls, rubbing it back and forth in the palm of your hand, hoping to get him to cum. minho closes his eyes shut again and tenses his thighs, finally cumming. his hands travel down to grasp at his length, taking it over yours, spurting his essence everywhere. minho finishes with a loud relieved groan, slapping his dick lazily against your cheek which you greedily lapped at.

“that might be the best head i’ve ever had, bunny.” he bites his lips, his voice light and airy. you quickly sit up from your position and gawked at him, suddenly feeling bashful at his apparent pet name for you.

minho gives you a mischievous cat like grin in return, feeling absolutely delighted at your expression. he begins to lightly graze your leg, leaving tentative touches and gentle pecks along the stretch of your lower limb. lifting your right leg up, you stop minho from inching any closer towards you by putting your foot on his chest.

"y/n..."

you pretend to think for a moment, stretching this out for as long as possible. he would just have to wait since he had yet to make up for being so mean to you. a little fun also wouldn’t hurt, right? no, you were quite wrong.

minho again grabs your ankle albeit more roughly this time and continues to place chaste kisses with more passion this time, clearly adamant about giving your legs and thighs hickeys. at long last, minho slides the wet and abused fabric off you, the panty is thoroughly soaked and it’s material sticking and clinging to your core.

he hooks ur leg over his shoulder, urging to part your legs apart and spreading them obscenely open. staring intensely into your eyes, minho starts teasing your core with feather light touches. “you like this?” he says his mischievous grin, continuing his ministrations. you offer him no response as he traces figures and shapes on your wet pussy that has you seeing stars. his fingers now erratically sliding up and down your folds. you almost sob at his nonchalant teasing, eyes clenching shut and begging him to put something in.

something about observing his veiny hand treading lightly just the outside of your lower lips leads you to tuck your face into your hands, the sight was like straight out of porn. “no, no. hands up bunny.” minho takes a hold of your wrists, putting them effortlessly above your head.

“you have to look.”

his free hand drags along your legs to pull them apart and starts lowering his chiseled face down to your core. his nose just close enough to feel the small exhaling puffs of hot air on your pussy, causing it to twitch in suspense. the brunette sneaks a peak at your trembling figure before diving right in, the first contact of his tongue on your cunt was searing hot, instantly making jolt out in shock and cry out. minho takes this as a sign to hold down your hips, pressing, flattening, and letting his tongue rampant against you all while avoiding your clit. he hums at the taste, huffing and delving further into your pussy, eating you out with such intensity, placing open mouthed sloppy kisses. he spits to make your pussy wetter so he could languidly and erratically make out with your cunt.

you throw your head back into the heaps of pillows behind you as he starts to pay attention to your clit, softly biting the bundle of nerves. minho then moves to swipe his index up at the large amount of cum and spit trickling from your core, using it as lube for his fingers. he gently prods his index in your entrance all while still licking you up. his long fingers, deliciously stretching your hole, deeper than all those nights you've tried to do so yourself. the bliss you were feeling was overwhelming. minho croaks out a little ‘hah, hah, hah…” every time he would come up for breath, completely drunk off your musky and intoxicating scent. you also don’t miss how he subtly humps the bed sheets he was lying under either. you began to arch your back upon hearing his desperate sounds, your arousal spurting on his face.

minho looks like a cat who got the cream, his pupils blown wide open and wetness trickling down the side of his mouth. he lets go of your hands after you were finished, the numb arm falling on your forehead as you catch your breath. he stands up to re-adjust your form on the bed, pulling you closer to his pelvis.

minho stares at your eyes, asking silently for permission. you look up at him with a toothy- fucked out grin.

the feelings that you couldn't place earlier was now clear, you wanted him.

minho reaches a hand over your face, caressing your flushed cheeks. he wordlessly leans to tenderly place a kiss onto your forehead and on your lips. you reciprocate lovingly, capturing his lips once again. minho without warning, pushes his long and girthy dick into you, the abrupt intrusion making you sob out. the bulbous head of his cock rubs deliciously against your gummy walls, you swore you could feel it in your throat.

“there we go. there we go…”

minho sets a rough pace, his hips thrusting against your pelvic bone. “ah-ah!”

toned and skillful arms cage you in, forcing you to look deep into his dark pools. "you better keep quiet, or else the whole house will hear you." that for some reason makes your cunt even wetter, weeping more than you thought was possible. the sole idea of getting caught with their precious son doing such lewd acts, it seems sacrilegious and absolutely sinful.

he once again reaches for your hardened nipple, tweaking and pinching the bud between his thumb and index. the bed was now creaking with how fast minho was going, you silently prayed that no one in the house suspects anything. the thought mortifies you.

minho leans against your figure and nuzzles up on your chest, looking up at you with an oh so innocent grin while he continues to pound your cunt. his movements start to stutter once he feels your walls clench around him. your mind begins to feel like mush but you still try to make an effort to suppress your groans of pleasure. a strangled sound between a moan and a whine leaves your throat once he hits that one particular spot in you.

“keep quiet, little kitty.”

you start squirming uncontrollably at the huskiness of his voice, not having experienced an intense orgasm like this before. “cum, you can do it.” your rutting hips stop to convulse for a moment, feeling your orgasm rip through the ends of your nerves. leaning back on his chest, you struggle to catch your breath, heaving from the aftermath of your orgasm.

fogginess still clouding your vision, you caught a small glimpse of minho to notice that he still hadn’t pulled out, his hands circling your waist gently. you unintentionally clench on his cock, yep he was still hard, very hard. minho sets his eyes on you, and gives you that look. oh no, you knew that look. the same one that he uses around the office to persuade a higher up to heed to his request. you nibble on your lower lip in excitement.

“one more, you can do one more right?” he coos, lifting your legs and his hips starting his monstrous once pace again. you double over in overstimulation, crying out in pleasure. his breath hitches after a particularly hard thrust, choosing to muffle his own cries by shoving his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your exhilarating scent. you respond by coyly playing with the hair on his nape, hoping that it would ground you to reality.

minho then sneaks a hand from below you and hugs your figure, pulling you impossibly closer. he swallows your moans, kissing you feverishly and running his hands wildly all throughout. it was so urgent, so intense, like he’s finding a way to meld your bodies together, his erratic and messy thrusts reflecting that.

your fingers clutch his thick bed sheets, euphoria piercing your body every time he drives another rough thrust into you. the lewd noises coming from the two of you echos and bounces off the walls, the conversation tomorrow morning was going to be so humiliating and awkward at the dining table.

you can’t hold it in any longer, and by the looks of it, neither can he. minho cums with a loud groan, spurting inside you. "goooood kitty." minho rasps out. you gape at the warmness, causing you to finish as well. minho reaches his hand downwards to spread your combined release, spreading it messily. it drips out of you obscenely as he pulls out.

you were positively flushed. he was too, sweat still glistening on the wide expanse of his chest and forehead. minho brushes your hair back affectionately before plopping down tiredly next to you. you turn to him, wanting to admire his fucked out features but he looks occupied and staring into space.

“what's the matter?”

"i really am sorry about the misunderstanding. i feel terrible that i made you feel like that. and i do really like you. wasn't lying about that." minho sighs out, closing his eyes for a moment and then faces you. “i want to start over, properly this time.”

"apology accepted. and yeah of course." you say, quite happy with how this whole misunderstanding turned out. "i really like you too." he kisses the top of your head, making you wrap an arm around him to cuddle.

"now you'll just have to figure out how to reject the girl beside your desk. she wants to ask you out."

"maybe we can start by just making out in front of her."

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids hard thoughts #lee know #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #skz angst

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valkyriexo · 9 days

Text

💬 Skz Texts | They want you to meet their parents

*·˚ᑉ³ OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Smau, Comfort, Fluff, some angst,

ᑉ³warnings; Use of pet names, insecurities, overthinking, a little suggestive for some members but nothing crazy.

ᑉ³Authors Note; I don't love love these but I want to do more skz texts :) let me know your thoughts

Chan

Minho

Changbin

Hyunjin

Jisung

Felix

Seungmin

Jeongin

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daaawnnn · 3 months

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not meant to be

skz reaction: request - hello, so I just read maybe I like you and was wondering if you could do them, finding out reader has a crush on them, but not liking reader back. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. or if you don’t have time, just ignore this, but yeah byeee 💞

pairing: bsf!skz x gn!reader

warnings: rejection

©daaawnnn

reblogs are appreciated!

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godslino · 3 months

Text

PIECE BY PIECE | minho first date series. friends to lovers.

pairing: minho x fem!reader word count: 6.2k genre: college au, mutual pining, fluff, angst warnings: drinking, referenced injury (very minor) summary: minho, on a drunken whim, asks you out on a date.

a/n: finally!! the minho part!! i’ve been sooo excited about this one since i first got the idea. i hope you guys enjoy! once again any and all feedback is appreciated, happy reading <3

“Dude, I think it’s clean.”

Minho looks up from where he’s scrubbing the counter, eyes narrowed. So what if it’s his third time going over every surface in the kitchen?

“Are you going to help me or are you just gonna sit there and make more crumbs?”

Jeongin’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He holds up his hands in surrender, the bag of chips in his lap crinkling. “I’m just saying. You’re acting like she’s never seen the place before.”

That’s the problem. You’ve seen his place. Minho has to stop the shudder that threatens to overtake his body at the thought.

“So you’re not helping? Great. Get out.”

“I live here!” Jeongin whines. “Why do I have to get out? You can’t banish me like this.”

“I can and I will. Now leave. I have two hours to make sure everything is ready and I am not going to vacuum for a fourth time.”

“Yes mom,” Jeongin rolls his eyes as he unfolds his legs from underneath him.

He stops just short of the kitchen counter, points an accusatory finger at Minho’s disheveled figure still hunched over an imaginary stain.

“For the record, Chan hyung would never do this to me. He loves my crumbs.”

Minho throws the scrub daddy at him.

🏠

The night it happens, all it takes is approximately three shots and a pep talk from Hyunjin for Minho to finally find the nerve to ask you out.

“You’ve got this,” the younger boy says, words slurred, his hands steady on both Minho’s shoulders. The bass thumps loud in the other room, drowned out by the walls of the kitchen until it’s nothing but garbled nonsense going in one of his ears and out the other, vibrations low in his chest.

“I’ve got this.” Minho repeats, the thrum of alcohol already spreading to his fingertips. He feels warm, light on his feet. His limbs are starting to loosen up and his insides are turning to jelly. He might even be floating.

“You look hot.”

“I look hot.”

“She’s gonna say yes.”

“You’re gonna venmo me twenty dollars.”

“I’m gonna venmo you twenty dollars.” Minho parrots before he can even process what he’s saying. Changbin, who’d been watching the entire thing unfold from where he stands with his back pressed against the sink, snorts.

“Wait, what the f—”

“Go get her!” Hyunjin screams, pushing him through the door of the kitchen with one last pat on the back, “And send me my money!”

Minho stumbles over himself, just barely able to stop in time before he goes crashing into a group of people. The living room is crowded: there’s furniture pushed up against the walls, bodies pressed front to back in the middle of the floor, a makeshift DJ stand in the corner where Chan is controlling the music from his laptop, drink in hand. Minho catches his eye from across the room, the glow of the LEDs reflecting off the toothy grin he shoots his way, dimples on full display.

“Hey!” Minho feels someone grab his arm, and he turns to find you staring up at him. “Where’d you go? You said you were gonna get a drink.”

Minho follows your eyes down to where you’re staring at his empty hands. “I—uh, well. I ran into Hyunjin and we took a few shots.”

The pout you give him does nothing but spur on the fluttering of his chest, his brain still hyper aware of the way your hand was resting on his elbow. “Shots? I want shots!” you whine, and Minho has to avert his gaze from staring at your lips when your pout only worsens.

“How much have you had?” he tries to ask over the music. There’s a shitty pop song playing, high pitched and wonky. If he remembers in the morning, he’ll make sure he berates Chan about his DJ-ing abilities.

“What?” you scream back, tiptoeing to bring your mouth closer to his ear.

Minho is only a man. A man who's been in love with you since the moment you accidentally spilled your coffee all over Hyunjin in the quad during freshman year. He remembers that day well, remembers the way your eyes went wide and your lips parted. He also remembers the way he wished it was him with the large wet stain on his shirt, that way it was him that was offered to have his lunch bought as an apology.

He’d never admit it, but sometimes really late at night, when the moon is high in the sky and he’s feeling oddly sentimental, he counts his lucky stars that Hyunjin had been in a relationship at the time. Minho doesn’t know what he would’ve done had he been forced to watch the two of you hit it off—some form of arson, presumably. Anything to take the edge off. But because of the fact that Hyunjin was not trying to have his head cut off by said girlfriend at the time, he invited Minho along as some sort of collateral damage. That’s when the two of you became friends. Kind of perfect if you ask him.

With the jumbled mess of butterflies in his stomach that he gets whenever you’re near him, and the threat of the alcohol slowly seeping through his skin, his brain short circuits the minute your breath grazes the shell of his ear. When your hand follows not long after, fingers gripping the nape of his neck to hold him in place, he almost passes out.

“Min? What’d you say?”

Minho is rendered completely useless by you. Absolutely ruined. Your existence has thrown his entire plan to woo you off course and now his mouth is opening and closing like a badly programmed robot. Pathetic. Nuts and bolts for brains.

By the grace of God (or some other higher being that Minho’s never bothered to believe in until this very moment) he finds his voice, but not before you’re pulling back with a confused look on your face.

“I asked how much you’ve had to drink,” he says, straining against the music.

A saccharine sweet grin that has him seeing stars spreads across your face, “Not enough!”

Minho is not an enabler. Never has been, never will be. There was one time, back in that fateful freshman year that also introduced the two of you, that he let Hyunjin get blackout drunk. A terrible decision on his end, if the earful he got from Chan the next morning was anything to go by. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was finding remnants of the resulting hacking session for the following week. So yeah, never again.

But while Minho isn’t an enabler, he is smitten, and the way your hand feels wrapped around his wrist as you drag him into the kitchen has his soul threatening to leave his body. He thinks that maybe he could do anything as long as you asked. He also hopes you can’t feel the way his pulse is rabbiting beneath his skin, right under the press of your thumb.

“There’s, like, nothing here.” you say as you rummage through the cupboard near the window, nose scrunched and a frown on your face.

Minho laughs, rounds the kitchen island to crouch down and open the cabinet under the sink. “That’s because you don’t know where to look,” he smirks, pulling out a fresh bottle of tequila. “Also, Chan hyung is greedy. He knows people like you will go scavenging his supply if he isn’t careful.”

“I resent that.” you frown, taking the bottle from him. “Besides, people like me deserve to have fun too.”

“Mhm, sure.” Minho says, grabbing a solo cup. He holds his hand out for the bottle, pours just the right amount before sliding it over and following it up with a can of coke.

“A man after my heart.” you joke, holding your cup up to him in a mock toast before downing it in one go. Minho watches with so much focus, fighting against the way his head spins. He doesn’t even know if it’s the alcohol anymore, it might just be the effect you have on him. Dizzying—you flip his entire world on its axis in the best way possible.

Minho’s gonna be seeing your exposed neck in his dreams later, he’s sure of it—it’s branded into his memory.

“That…is so fucking bad.” you giggle, holding your cup out. “Another one.”

Minho clicks his tongue. “I don’t know…”

“Pleaseeee Min,” the lilt in your voice sounds oddly familiar. Minho holds his breath just in case you—yup. There it is. There goes that pout again.

It’d be so easy for him to lean down and kiss it right off your lips. He could blame it on the alcohol, maybe, but then that takes away from how he actually means it.

He sighs instead. “It’s gonna cost you.”

“An arm and a leg?”

“What? No—I meant some water.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Three shots and a full bottle of water later, Minho knows you’ve hit your limit. Cheeks flushed pink, a dopey grin on your face, pupils blown wide. Even in this state, Minho is certain that you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Anotherrrr,” you slur, waving your cup in his face.

Minho shakes his head. “No can do. You’re cut off.”

“Please,” you whine, placing both hands on his shoulders, “I’ll do anything.”

Minho, completely taken back by the sudden closeness of your body to his, freezes.

“Anything?” he asks before he can stop himself.

This is stupid. You’re drunk. There’s no way you’re going to remember anything in the morning, much less within the next thirty minutes. He’s pretty sure that you’ll lose control of all your senses soon, which is why he’s already texted your roommate Jiwoo to unlock the door so he can carry you inside. Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“Anything,” you repeat, eyes going cross-eyed where they’re fixing on the mole he has at the tip of his nose.

This is stupid. But then again, so is Minho. A big, stupid fool that blames everything on the fact that he’s so in love with you it hurts. This might be the only chance he gets to shoot his shot.

Minho takes a deep breath, says something similar to a little prayer that’s more like Hey, if anyone’s listening, help a guy out, and hopes that the twenty bucks he sent Hyunjin works.

“Go on a date with me.” he says slowly, wincing when your eyes snap up to meet his gaze.

Well, there’s really no going back from that. The only thing that could possibly grant him redemption now is banking on the fact that you don’t remember anything in the morning.

Minho waits with bated breaths, watches as your eyes search his for a long while. He waits for the anger, the disgust, the visible repulsion that he starts to think might happen the longer the silence continues.

He’s about to backtrack, quickly conjuring up an excuse about how Oh, haha, gotcha! when your hands suddenly drop from his shoulders. You grab the cup, your chin tipped upwards, and hold it out for him to fill.

“Okay.”

“O…kay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Pour me another one.”

The next morning, when Minho all but drags himself into the kitchen in search of water and something to soothe the throbbing in his head, he nearly spits a mouthful at Jeongin, the poor guy too busy eating his cereal to realize he’s gotten a front row seat in the splash zone.

Y/N [10:34am]

when do you want to do that date?

🏠

Are candles too much?

Minho has options: clean linen, lavender breeze, ocean mist, warm vanilla. He really just needs something to get rid of the smell of cleaning spray.

He thought that having a night in for a first date would be ideal—less pressure, no unwanted attention, a bathroom that he can run into when he starts to hyperventilate if you smile at him for too long. But now that it’s happening, he’s convinced that every surface of his and Jeongin’s shared apartment will scare you away if anything so much as looks off-putting.

Minho is, to put it simply, freaking out. All the other times you’ve been over to his place were on a completely platonic level. Movie nights with all the other guys in tow, dropping off food that you felt generous enough to buy every once in a while, one time because you’d accidentally worn Minho’s jacket home from a party and needed to return it to him.

But this is different. This is a date. Minho’s not dreaming—he already pinched himself a dozen times in the bathroom mirror, tiny red marks on the inside of his forearm to prove it. He’s going to open the door, invite you in, cook for you, and then proceed to resist the urge to tell you how beautiful you are for however long the night continues on after that. He can practically hear Jeongin’s laugh in the back of his head, sneering at how pathetic his inner monologue sounds right now.

He needs to find another stain to scrub.

By the time you’re knocking on his door, Minho has changed his outfit seven times. Sweats were too casual, a button up was too fancy. Should he not have done his hair? No, that’s just lazy, the way his fringe is swept up and out of his forehead adds a nice touch that doesn’t scream Hey! I’m trying to woo you! You’ve never been the type to be impressed by grand gestures and shows of confidence anyways, he knows that well.

One time, when a guy from one of the frat houses hired the campus quartet to sing a song for you in the quad as he stood there with big beady eyes and a bouquet of roses in his hand, you’d all but ran from the scene, Minho following close behind as you called out to him over your shoulder. It’s one of his fondest memories. As soon as the two of you made it around the back of the science building, you’d doubled over in laughter, the both of you in disbelief at what had happened. Minho has had that information tucked into the deepest parts of his brain ever since, saved just in case he needed it.

(Later that night, in the safety of his own bed, he’d laughed maniacally at the situation. Something about watching you reject another guy filled him with a sense of joy he couldn’t explain. He just hoped he was never going to be on the receiving end of it.)

He does a quick once over of the kitchen: double checks that all the ingredients are out, blows a speck of dust off the glass stovetop, spins the tiny floral arrangement he bought so that it’s sitting at just the right angle. When the doorbell rings, the chime bouncing off the walls of the apartment, he visibly pales.

He has to reel it in, to remember that it’s just you. You might not even be here with any intentions other than to fulfill your end of the deal; one date in exchange for the extra three shots he poured you the other night. Minho takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob with conviction, and decides that he’s determined to show you the way you deserve to be treated. The opportunity is there, and he’s gonna take it.

As soon as the door swings open, every nerve that had somehow crept its way into his brain disappears, the sight of you standing on the other side immediately sending the anxiety scrambling and replacing it with fondness instead.

“Hi,” you smile, and Minho sees images of you coming home to his apartment flash across his mind. After class, after work, in the winter when it’s cold and your nose is tinted pink, on rainy days where the ends of your hair are damp and you have a wet umbrella in tow. He could get used to it. He’s so in love that it hurts.

“Hey,” he breathes out, stepping aside to make way for you, “Come in. Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually. Been saving myself all day since I don’t always get to have your cooking.” You hop on to one of the stools, your attention momentarily stolen by the flower arrangement. One point for Minho.

I’d cook for you every day, he wants to say. But that’s weird, right? So instead, “Well then I guess today is your lucky day.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” You say softly.

Minho can’t see you with the way his back is turned, hands moving to grab out the knife and cutting board, but if he could he’d see the way your eyes are staring softly at his back, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

Conversation flows easily after that, despite Minho’s original worries about it being awkward. You’re not necessarily treating it as a date, and he isn’t really either. It feels more like a glorified hangout, just the two of you spending time together with the added glances and smiles that normally wouldn’t be there.

Minho finds it easy to get lost in you. He finds himself craving to know more about your day, about the things that’ve been on your mind lately and the hobbies you’ve picked up. Most of the conversation is a continuation of stuff that’s fallen through the cracks during the times you see each other, but he doesn’t miss the way you ask about him too, your eyes shining with genuine interest. It makes his heart slam against his ribcage.

“How are your cats doing?”

Minho looks up from the cutting board, follows your gaze to where it’s fixed on the scattered pictures that litter his fridge. “They’re good,” he says, smiling down at a head of garlic, “My mom sends pictures all the time. She says they claw at the door to my room when they miss me.” He smashes the garlic under the knife’s blade by hitting it with the heel of his palm. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

Minho, in a very flashy demonstration of what it means to be cool, calm, and collected, slices his thumb mid-chop.

“Shit.” he mutters, dropping the knife.

It’s not that bad, just a little nick, the surprise was mostly what scared him. He probably doesn’t even need a bandaid. But despite how small it is, nothing stops you from hurriedly walking up to him and taking his hand in yours, his thumb held closely to your face for inspection.

“Are you okay?” You turn his hand over between your fingers, the soft pads of them against his calloused ones. Minho is dumbfounded, struggling to find the words to say.

“Yeah—um, it’s fine. My fault. I was distracted.” He stammers out, pulling his hand back and holding it up. He wiggles his fingers, making a show of bending and twisting his thumb that, at most, has just a small cut on the side. “See? Perfect.”

Your face relaxes, and then you’re laughing. Why are you laughing? Either Minho looks like a complete idiot or he’s suddenly the funniest person in the world for being clumsy and reckless and almost ruining the night by losing a finger. Whichever one it is, he doesn’t care, as long as he gets to hear that sound again.

“Let me help cook, please? I know you said you would do it all but clearly you’re a threat to the integrity of this meal.” You say, bumping your hip against his to move him away from the cutting board.

Minho scoffs. “I wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t catch me off guard.”

“So what? You admit that I make you flustered?”

Oh.

Minho wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared for the—the flirting that’s clearly happening. You’re flirting with him, right? Why else would you have called him cute or given him that suspicious side eye after you asked that question?

You and Minho have joked around like this before, but it was always empty with no real feelings attached—as far as he could tell. You’re a naturally friendly person, getting along with others comes easy to you. He’s seen the way you talk to the other guys and has always just assumed he was no different in your eyes than they were. Sure, there were moments where maybe your hand lingered on his arm for a little while after he made you laugh, or the two of you would steal glances across the room. Sometimes when Hyunjin said something stupid you’d both catch the other’s eye and make a face, just another funny way of proving that you were both on the same wavelength most of the time. It’s kind of why Minho is so taken with you—he’s never met anyone that gets him the same way.

Reluctantly, Minho puts his pride aside and allows you to help. And as it turns out, you’re actually really good at cooking. Minho doesn’t have to instruct you much, and before he knows it you’re both working like a well-oiled machine, scooting past one another as you switch places between the stove and the sink, reading each other’s minds without even having to ask.

“Taste this.” You say, holding the spoon up to his mouth. Minho leans forward, front teeth poking out, and brings the spoon into his mouth. You cup your hand under his chin to catch any droppings, watching in anticipation as he smacks his lips together.

His eyes light up, big and brown and twinkling under the light of the kitchen. “Perfect.” He smiles.

“Oh you have—uh,” you stop him with a hand on his forearm just as he’s about to turn back to the sink, your other hand hovering next to his face hesitantly, “It’s just, um, your—here.”

Minho’s eyes go wide when your thumb swipes against the corner of his mouth, your touch feather light. It’s so intimate, the only sound being the music playing low from the speaker on the counter. He’s half convinced that you’re able to hear his heartbeat, blood pumping loud in his ears.

“You had some sauce…on your face.” You say shyly, your palm still pressed to his cheek.

“…Oh.”

Minho’s never really looked into your eyes from this close up before. He’s always known they were beautiful, the shape of them soft, full of nothing but the world. He can see himself in them from here, and, selfishly, he hopes you can see yourself in his, too.

He might be imagining it when your gaze flicks down to his lips for just a fraction of a second, but there’s no time to unpack any of that when the sauce starts bubbling over the edge of the pot, spilling on to the burner as loud sizzling and smoke fills the kitchen.

It’s chaos. The bottom of the pot is burnt and there’s only so much of it that’s salvageable. He only bought the exact amount of ingredients too, because this is a self-proclaimed no-food-waste household (as explicitly stated in the napkin contract he has with Jeongin, much to his dismay). So, hooray for conscious consumption of goods!

At the end of it all, there’s no one to blame. You’re both guilty of…whatever that was.

Minho tries to reassure you that it’s okay as he dials the number for the pizza place just down the street, simultaneously shutting down all your attempts to pay as an apology. It doesn’t matter to him, he’d do anything as long as it means he gets to spend time with you. At the end of the day, it’s another memory that he’ll hold close to his heart.

“Listen,” you say, swallowing down a mouthful of pizza, the both of you seated on his couch with a half-eaten box of pizza open on the coffee table, “I know you wanted to cook and all—which, by the way, I’m still sorry—but this is so good. However I’m sure whatever you made would’ve been better.”

Minho chuckles. “Stop lying,” he wipes his hands on a napkin, “I can guarantee you that whatever I cooked wouldn’t be as good as this anyways.”

“Stop selling yourself short, Min. You’re good at everything you do.”

The words fall from your lips so easily, like it’s something you’ve convinced yourself of long ago. Minho’s never been the type to bounce around from one thing to another, always choosing to stick with it until he has it down to a science. Cooking is one of them. Jeongin can attest to all the times Minho has berated him with tasting his latest dishes, chasing him around the apartment with a spoon. The words tighten themselves around his heart.

“I’m not,” he rolls his eyes, “But nine times out of ten, grease and mozzarella cheese are gonna win. I know that for a fact.”

You laugh, and the conversation gradually diverts into a debate about the top ten best greasy foods in existence. You’re heated, half kneeling on the couch with a finger pointed at him as you plead your case for onion rings, when your eyes go past Minho’s head and settle on the shelf of games in the hallway.

“You have games?” you ask, suddenly giddy with excitement as you hurry over to inspect the selection.

Minho watches with fond eyes, collects the plates and napkins to throw away. “Yeah, most of them are Innie’s. We don’t really use them. Sometimes when we’re drunk, other times when we’re bored and decide to wager money for fun.”

You hum, not really paying attention. Monopoly, Chutes and Ladders, some decks of cards, Uno—you scan the shelf until your eyes light up at what you find hidden at the bottom.

“Min! Can we play Jenga?”

“Jenga?” Minho asks, re-entering the living room. The coffee table is clear now, and he sits between it and the couch, his back against the cushion. “Isn’t that kind of boring? We have other stuff there.”

“It’s only boring if you play it the way it’s supposed to be played.” You roll your eyes. Minho turns to you when you situate yourself on the floor beside him and only momentarily contemplates running to the bathroom when your knee knocks against his. He’s been holding it together pretty well so far, however The Sauce Incident had him ready to book it if anything had gone further.

“Well how else are we supposed to play it?” He frowns.

“We make up our own rules.”

The pieces scatter across the wood of the coffee table, clacking as you diligently begin putting them together. “This is a date, right?” You ask, stopping for a moment to turn and assess his response.

Minho stills. He genuinely forgot the grounds on which tonight had even happened in the first place. Spending time with you makes him forget everything else. And, despite his fears in the beginning, being on a date with you has felt so natural that it almost seems like you’ve done it a thousand times before.

Your eyes meet. For a moment, Minho lets himself wonder what it’d be like if he went for it right then and there. “Yeah,” he says slowly, unblinking, hoping you can see the sincerity on his face, “A date. One of the best ones I’ve ever been on, actually.”

He almost cries out in victory when your face flushes pink. “Now who’s a liar?” You ask quietly, going back to piecing together the game.

Minho has learned something new tonight: he really likes seeing you flustered.

“Why do you ask?” he decides to cut you the slack, “Or what does this being a date have to do with Jenga rules?”

He waits as you finish the stack, your tongue sticking out in concentration. You’re so cute. Minho mentally pockets that image for safe keeping.

“Sorry, okay, it’s done. But basically, if we pull out a block, we get to ask the other person a question.”

“And if the tower falls…?”

“Hmm,” you think for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, “Oh! I know. If you lose you have to tell me why you asked me on a date.”

Minho’s stomach flips. “Okay. If you lose you have to tell me why you accepted the date.”

Something unreadable passes over your face, but it’s gone in an instant. You hold your hand out for a shake, and Minho wraps his fingers around it gently.

“Deal.”

“Why are you taking all of the middle pieces?” Minho pouts.

The two of you have gone through a couple turns by now, throwing out random questions for the better half of fifteen minutes. Favorite colors, childhood foods you wouldn’t eat, the best memory you have from high school. Minho’s learned a lot, has fallen for you a lot more. But that was always a given. It’s impossible not to when he can feel the warmth from your body where you’re seated next to him, your presence overtaking all of his senses.

“Because I’m trying to win,” you laugh, putting your freshly pulled piece at the top. Just a little crooked, too. To piss him off. “Favorite movie?”

“Ponyo. Easy. My turn.”

“Seriously? Why Ponyo?”

“One question at a time, princess.”

He means it as a joke, really. He doesn’t even realize what he’s said until after the fact, the nickname making your heart skip a beat. Minho notices, the corners of his lips tugging downwards as he suppresses a smile. He manages to flick one of the side pieces until it gives way.

“What’s one thing you regret?”

“Ooh, getting deep I see.” You laugh, taking a sip of your soda. There’s a long pause, and then, “I regret spilling my coffee on Hyunjin that day.”

Minho’s brow furrows. You…regret it? He runs through all the possible reasons in his head. Surely it can’t be because you regret becoming friends with them, friends with him, right?

“Why?” He chances.

“One question at a time, princess.” You echo, laughing at his shocked expression.

You remove the last middle piece. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate our first date?”

Minho’s brain is going a thousand miles a minute. “A ten. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.” He says it fast, wastes no time in moving forward to remove his own piece. He doesn’t even notice that your cheeks have gone pink again, too busy itching to ask his next question.

“Why do you regret spilling your coffee on Hyunjin?”

Minho watches you, lets his mind wander to the worst possible thing you could say in this situation, and mentally prepares to book it to the bathroom.

You take a deep breath, “I regret it because I wasn’t supposed to spill it on him. I was supposed to spill it on you.”

Wait, what?

Minho blinks. “What are you talking about?”

This is humiliating for you. A terrible thing to have to admit. Up until this moment, you’d thought that this information would follow you to your grave. You press the heel of your palms to your eyes, “This is so embarrassing,” you groan.

Minho pulls one hand away. He’s not really sure what to say, mostly because he’s confused, but, “You can tell me.”

“I had…” you start, looking up at him slowly, “A plan. With Jiwoo.” Minho nods for you to continue. “I’d seen you and Hyunjin walking through the quad a few times, and I thought that you were cute, but I didn't know how to approach you. So I did something stupid and decided that I would literally just crash into you. But I fucked it up.”

I thought that you were cute. The words echo in Minho’s ears like a bell. All this time, all those stolen glances and lingering touches, all the ways you would make hope spike in his chest that maybe you felt the same—they were real.

“So you, wait—” Minho shakes his head, “So you’re telling me that all this time…”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Min, really. All this time.”

Minho’s never been skydiving, but he imagines that this is what it feels like. Free falling—his soul hurtling towards earth at a horrifying speed, slamming back into his body right here in his living room with a force so strong it would knock him off his feet if he wasn’t already sitting on the floor. You were interested in him first.

Wordlessly, you lean forward, pulling out a piece with practiced ease. Minho waits with bated breaths.

“Can I kiss you?”

Minho feels like he might pass out. “Am I dreaming right now?”

“You didn’t pull out a piece.”

He scrambles forward, clumsily nudging a piece on the side that ends up sending the entire tower toppling over. You smile at him, soft and sweet. “Looks like you have to pay up with an answer. You know, since you lost.”

Minho doesn’t care. “Because I like you,” he breathes out, “I asked you on a date because I like you. I like you so much, ever since I saw you that day. And, funnily enough, I’ve always wished you’d spilled that coffee on me instead, too.”

The confession feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He’s spent so long pining after you, laying awake at night thinking about how this would go down if he ever got the chance. He never expected for it to happen like this, much less for you to possibly feel the same.

Panic slowly starts to rise in his chest when you don’t respond. He watches as you reach an arm over, build a small tower out of a few pieces, and then knock it over. You turn to him with a small smile, “Oops, I lost too.”

Minho is so in love with you that it hurts.

“I accepted the date because I like you, Minho. I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”

He doesn’t think twice before he’s surging forward, cupping your face with one hand and kissing you with a tenderness that has you melting into his touch.

There’s no fireworks behind his eyes, no big bang or grand display of whatever it is that happens in the movies. But there’s a warmth, it starts out small in the center of his chest and spreads throughout his entire body, lights his skin aflame and travels all the way to his fingertips. You’re like that. A gentle presence, someone who worms their way into the very essence of his being and burrows into the deepest parts of him, like it was never his to begin with. Kissing you is slow, and deep, and right. He wouldn’t want it any other way. Minho doesn’t ever want to stop.

He lets his other hand fall to your waist, pulls you closer until you’re practically straddling him with his back against the couch, your knees on either side of his hips. Minho lets out a long, drawn out groan when you tilt his head back farther, his lips parting and allowing you to lick inside of his mouth. It’s so good. So good. He can’t believe he ever lived without knowing what this felt like; lived without ever having you this close before.

After a while, Minho reluctantly pulls back, holding you by the shoulders. When he looks up, your eyes are half-lidded. You look utterly debauched, cheeks pink and lips swollen from how hard they’d been pressed against his own. “We should probably slow down.” He tries hard to convince himself, too. “Talk about it all, you know? I don’t—this isn’t a one time thing for me. I don’t want it to be. I like you. I want you to know that.” He says softly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

You lean into his hand, smiling when he flattens his palm to let your head rest there. “You’re like, so perfect that I want to kiss you until you forget your own name.”

Minho’s ears go red, his head falling forward until it rests against your collarbone. The feeling of his breath against your skin makes you laugh and run a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck fondly.

“This is gonna be so bad now that you say stuff like that.”

“Bad? No, I think it’s cute. You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” he whines, but there’s no bite to it. Not when he can look up and press a kiss to your lips. A dream come true. The entire world in his hands, exactly where it was always meant to be.

🏠

In the morning, when Jeongin comes back home, one hand covering his eyes just in case, he calls out,

“Everyone better be dressed! Or else I’m ripping up that napkin and making a new one with No fornicating on the furniture added into the fine print.”

When he doesn’t get a response, he rounds the corner, and finds the two of you nestled into the couch. Minho’s back is pressed into the cushions, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you nuzzle your face into his neck.

Jeongin huffs out a laugh, sends a quick text to Hyunjin that reads: Negative. Clothes are still on. But they’re so cute it’s almost sickening.

He snaps a picture to send to the group chat, grabs a piece of cold pizza, and retreats to his room.

Yang Jeongin Fanclub

jeongin: [Attachment: 1 image]

chan: AWWWWWWW

jiwoo: i’m gonna cry

changbin: dude is that the good pizza from down the street?

hyunjin: FINALLY

hyunjin: wait

hyunjin: does this mean i have to send back his $20?

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @strwbrrychannie ]

#lee know x reader #first date series : minho #lee know fluff #lee know angst #skz x reader #lee know fanfic #skz fanfic #lee know fic #skz fic #lee know fanfiction #skz fanfiction #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfiction #lee know #godslino #first date series

1K notes · View notes

astraystayyh · 11 months

Text

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 café 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.

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mykoreanlove · 4 months

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how to tame a cat

“Come on, baby. Please. Please let me fuck you. I’m just- I’m just sticking in the tip.”

Minho stood in front of you, agitated.

Normal people used to talk about their problems and figure them out in a healthy manner, but you two were different.

Minho thought it was funny making you jealous with the whore from the convenience store, whereas you thought it was funny punishing him by withholding sex for two weeks.

“Doesn’t work that way, Min.”

You were so good at this, standing firm in your opinion. Even when he came closer and filled your nose with his musky scent, you were able to withstand the temptation. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered the dirtiest things. “What? Don’t you want me? Don’t you want this dick?”

Minho grabbed your delicate hand and placed it over his hard bulge, making you gulp. “See, I know what a good little whore you are, baby. Let me fuck you just the way you like it. Let me make you gasp and whimper and moan. Come on, baby.”

“Should have thought about that when you were flirting with the bitch downstairs, Min.”

A soft chuckle left his lips, eliciting goosebumps all over your body.

“You didn’t like that? Didn’t that make you want me even more, y/n?”

That little shit. You pushed him away from you and glanced at him.

“You think it’s funny toying with my emotions like that?”

Minho grew frustrated and whined in annoyance.

“Y/N, come on. What do you want me to do? Beg? Yeah alright, I beg.”

He fell to his knees and looked up at you.

“Please baby. Please. Please let me fuck your sweet, little pussy. Let me stretch it out and fill you up with my cum. Let me make your legs shake, so that you can’t walk tomorrow. Don’t you like that? Don’t you like it when my cum is running down your thighs and I’m pushing it right back in with my fingers?”

Your pussy clenched just hearing all this – and he knew. But you had to stay strong.

“I know you’re thinking about it. Fantasizing about it. If you just let me-“. He wiggled his way to you and placed his head on your crotch, taking in your scent. "God, you smell so delicous, y/n." Minho pushed against you while his hands grabbed your ass.

“I can feel how wet you are through your jeans, baby. Stop fighting me. Allow me to make you feel good. Come on.”

Your hands grabbed his long hair and pulled forcefully, making him moan in pleasure. Minho looked up at you with glistening eyes; he was so hard for you that it was painful to bear.

“Min”, you whispered seductively as you lowered your head. “Yes? Is my beautiful queen finally giving in? Are you done rebelling?”

You placed your lips on his and lingered for a moment, allowing him to make a move. His tongue entered you forcefully and you shared a passionate kiss before you took a step back.

He looked at you with bewilderment, not understanding why you stopped. It was cute seeing him like that – in pain, just like you were when he flirted with that bitch in front of your eyes.

Your hand caressed his cheek and he leaned into your touch.

“Do you want me?”, you whispered lusciously.

He nodded eagerly.

“Do you want to fuck me brainless?”

He nodded even more aggressive.

“Do you want this?” You squeezed your pussy right in front of his nose.

Minho wasn’t able to form a sentence anymore, but his eyes gave him away. He was ready to devour you – all of you.

A sly smirk formed on your lips as you pushed him away from you and turned around to leave.

“Fuck you, Min.”

part 2

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pretty-blkgirl · 1 month

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Texting Skz “Happy Anniversary” (Hyung Line)

//gn!reader x Skz//

Synopsis: You try and wish your boyfriend a happy anniversary for Skz Day

Genre: crack, fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: HAPPY SKZ DAYYYYYYYYY. Wanted to put a little something out for the kids’ 6th year 🫶🏾

~Maknae Line~

~~~~|~~~~

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dazed--xx · 22 days

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SKZ!Fake Texts: He Calls you Clingy (Hyung Line)

Part 2 Part 3 Maknae Line

Bang Chan:

Minho:

Changbin:

Hyunjin:

#skz angst #stray kids angst #hyunjin angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #skz fake texts #SKZ fake texts angst #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #straykids angst #stray kids fake texts #stray kids hyung line angst #bang chan angst #lee minho angst #skz minho angst #changbin angst #hwang hyunjin angst #skz hyunjin angst

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sunboki · 4 months

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merry christmas to everyone that celebrates! gonna drop this off…

what about dad! minho baking cinnamon rolls with his little girl. PLEASE.

it’d be a lazy morning, a day he finally got to take work off and spend time with the two loves of his lives. of course, his baby wakes up just as early as he does — both of them nearly cracking up while trying to carefully tip toe out of your room without waking you up.

while Minho ties the apron around his waist, he turns around, met with the cutest sight of his daughter surrounded by kitties, Soonie and Doongie purring their delight as the toddler giggles.

he’d scoop her up in his arms, bringing her face up to his own to touch noses and hear that adorable laugh — just like yours.

her grabby hands too tempting to resist, he fastens the curious girl on his shoulders, humming the sweetest “Want Daddy to cook something?” to which she replies an eager “Cinammon rolls!”

And who is Minho to deny her of her precious cinnamon rolls?

So, the chef and his mini chef get to work, her fingers gently holding onto his hair as he maneuvers through the kitchen, hands periodically tapping her legs to ensure she’s safe (a habit).

Nevertheless, your heart utterly melts upon witnessing your husband gently teach her the ropes of making her favorite breakfast, answering all of her eager questions and reaching up here and there to pop a bit of the sugary goodness into her mouth.

Sure, there was doubt upon first starting a family, but as you watch, whether it’s how you can sense that newfound protectiveness he’s developed or the way he’s always interested in whatever she loves to do, there’s no other person who fit the role better.

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

Text

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader is now his past client. this is the fourth part of the spicy stuff. 18+ warnings under cut.

word count: 3.5k

18+ warnings: minho and reader are extremely horny for each other. softdom!minho (but also kinda harddom!minho in this too oop-). subby!femreader. teasing from minho. fingering. unprotected sex (stay safe out there folks!!). talk/use of safeword. jealous minho. some mind-blowing orgasms. excessive hair pulling. scratching. breast play. minho edges reader a lil bit. orgasm control. overstimulation. slight themes of possession/ownership. reader begs minho for his cock. PRAISE!!!. pet names (babe/baby, darling, sweetness, baby doll, kitten, good girl, baby girl, princess, and ONE whore). controlling minho. cum play. lots of dirty talk. breeding kink!!. subspace. they're such simps for each other at this point lmao- 🤡

a/n: well you guys, this is the second-to-last part of this series. although I'm sad to see it come to an end, I'm also excited and highly anticipating what the future holds for me and my fanfics!! and I wanna give a BIG shout out to all of my amazing readers- your guys' comments and support really brings me a lot of joy! and also, all of my wonderful and beautiful besties - both writers and non writers - ya'll are awesome!! 🥹💖

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He laid you down on the bed gently, hands circling your hips and helping to push you up the mattress so that your head rested on top of one of your soft downy pillows.

Slinking your bare legs around his waist as he slotted his center between you, you reached up, wrapping your hands around his neck and looking up at him with big eyes and a quaking heart pounding in your chest. “S-Sorry if the bed isn’t too comfortable… it’s super old.”

Minho had you caged underneath him, with both arms on either side of your head, palms pressing down into the rumpled comforter just beneath you. “I wasn’t even thinking about that, baby doll,” he mumbled in that low voice of his, tipping down into you and pressing a serene kiss to your lips. “My mind is too filled with you and your beauty to ever complain about the feeling of a damn bed.”

Giggling at that, you leaned up into him again and gave him another kiss, this one a little more passionate than the last. The sting that rimmed your mouth exploded across your mind, as you realized just how kiss-swollen your lips were.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re too busy being obsessed with me to worry about such frivolous problems…” Your voice trailed off, a devious smile lighting up your face as one of your hands left his neck and traveled south. You stopped as soon as you reached the waistline of his baggy sweatpants. Pawing at him, fingers just barely skating over his hardness there, you widened your eyes, imploring him in silence.

Minho let out a generous sigh, tongue swiping across the line of your lips as he gave into your whims. “Do not be so hasty, kitten. It is quite beneath you.”

You glared at him, fingers digging a little bit into the front of his pants and eliciting a strangled moan out of him. “You promised, Min.”

Promised he would give you everything.

Give you his all.

He had done so as the two of you made the trek from your living room to your bedroom. And although your place was incredibly small compared to his mansion of an apartment, the journey felt like a lifetime. As he pressed sweet kisses across your entire face, humming in contentment and making whispery promises to you in the dimness of your bedroom.

As he stood on the threshold of the door, with you still wrapped up in his arms, completely at his beck-and-call, Minho stared down at you with the most ethereal of gazes. ‘I want you to have all of me, darling,’ he had said, dark eyes flashing with ravenous heat and love. With the only light source being the crescent moon that filtered in through your curtain-drawn bedroom window, the cool light cast an angelic-like glow across his skin. You reached up then, running your fingers across his sharp jaw and nestling your nose into the crook of his neck. Feeling the warmth there, smelling the comforting, familiar scent of him. ‘I want that too, baby,’ you murmured, just before pressing a light kiss to his exposed clavicle.

Minho flashed you one of his signature smirks. The kind that was sly and all-knowing, as he batted your hand away from his hips and made quick haste of working his sweatpants and boxers off of his legs. “I know- I know sweetheart,” then he was throwing them behind him, left to be taken care of later. He reached behind himself, stripping off his oversized hoodie and tossing it aside too. When he was finally finished, he pitched into you, brushing a few strands of wild hair out of your face and tucking it behind one of your ears. “I know how hungry you are for my cock, hmm? You’ve been craving it for so very long…”

He said something else after that, but his words were entirely lost on you, as you took in all of him.

So close.

And personal.

Before, when the two of you had lost yourselves to the pleasure in his bedroom, he had been farther away.

Sitting in a chair, all by himself.

But now…

Now, he was something tangible.

Touchable, even.

And completely bare for only you and you alone.

So without thinking, your hands came up. Fingers traced the soft outline of his abs, trailing up his sides, before circling his round, muscled pecs and brushing across his beautiful, little pink nipples.

When you felt a hand snake around yours, grabbing at you and dragging your palms away from his chest, you froze in your place.

Peeking up at him with wide, beseeching eyes. Mouth slightly ajar from the shock of it all.

“Did you hear what I just said, sweetheart?” He asked you, but all you could focus on was him.

Right… there.

Concentration trailing past his chest and landing on his waist.

And oh fuck- was he beautiful.

Hard, and swollen, with the tip already messily leaking precum onto the sheets just beneath you.

You wanted to reach out and touch him there too- but you were stopped by the feeling of fingers tightly wrapping around either of your wrists, squeezing to get your focus.

“Y/N.”

Your name was called out with a stony voice, tone a little edged. Your heart raced against your ribcage, core throbbing to be touched - to be fucked.

Then Minho was laughing, so close to your face, mouth a mere hairsbreadth away from yours. You hadn’t realized how near he had drawn while you were busy ogling him. The cackle he let out was maniacal and caused the blood to rush wildly through your veins, cheeks flushing crimson in embarrassment.

When he finally got ahold of himself and calmed down somewhat, Minho peered down at you with that pointed nose of his and smirked devilishly. “Holy fuck, you are hungry for me- aren’t you, kitten?” He pressed into you, allowing his hardness to just barely graze your wide open inner-thighs. “But don’t worry… because I adore a cock-starved whore.”

You choked on a whimper as he completely devoured your mouth, biting at your bottom lip, tongue swiping across yours. Your hands migrated to his scalp, yanking at the roots as soon as you felt him moving above you. Then he was gliding his tip across your folds, and you were a whimpering mess underneath him.

Head thrashing back and forth atop your pillow, you breathed out shakily when his mouth tore away from yours, “P-Please, I-”

Then, you had no time to react, as he was slotting himself fully between your legs, shoving up into you so quickly and so hard that bright blue and sparkling gold starlight burst across your vision. Your mouth fell open, all sense leaving you at the feel of him. At the stretch that pulled taught across your entire body.

But as soon as he bottomed out, he halted all movements, staring down at you with blown pupils, irises dark and swirling with so many different emotions all at once. “What’s your safeword, princess?” He asked, tone low and scratchy, as you felt him twitch inside of you.

“W-What?” It was hard for you to even string the word together on your tongue, as your core throbbed for movement - from the feeling of him being lodged so deep.

“Your safeword… what is it?”

You realized that he wasn’t going to continue until you answered him.

And although you had heard of the term before, you had never, in your wildest dreams, thought that you would ever use it. No, the two ex-boyfriends that you had had in the past were completely boring and vanilla only - nothing ever mind-blowing happened in bed with them. Yet here was Minho, already having tugged out a violent orgasm from you without even using his cock.

So you swallowed, once, feeling your walls clench around him at the thought that things were about to get rough. But in the rest possible of ways. “P-Peach.”

He nodded, once, before he was moving again. Away from leaning down into you, pert ass resting on the back of his heels as he kneeled atop the bed. He hoisted you towards him, gripping hard on your hips, fingers digging into your exposed flesh.

Soon after that, he started thrusting.

And oh-

How heavenly did it feel.

To have his thick cock, which was so perfect and curved, ramming into you.

He angled your body just so- so that the tip of him reached that silky, warm spot inside of you. Every time he hit it, waves of ecstasy broke across the forefront of your mind.

“M-Minho,” you cried out as he clutched on harder to your hips, slotting himself in and out, in and out, so very wholly and completely. The fit was absolutely divine. So much so that you felt your mouth falling open involuntarily, tongue lolling out as he hit into you so well. “F-Feels so good-“

“Fucking shit,” he growled, as he jerked you closer to him, cock driving into you with each breath that fell from your mouth. “You’re so tight- damn it.”

When you felt the sensation of a finger dragging across your skin, and a thumb coming in contact with your swollen clit, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. Head going fuzzy with whiteness, you let go completely.

Meeting his hips halfway, the two of you moved with the swiftness and ease of the ocean tide and the moon. Push and pull, push and pull. With his thumb rubbing circles around your enflamed nub, and his girth stretching you so very ethereally, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to last long.

After all, he had been edging you for what felt like a fucking eternity.

It wasn’t until you felt the hand tear away from your cunt and roughly grip your jaw that your eyes shot open in alarm. Minho was staring down at you, a dim shadow cast across his entire face.

“Look at me when I’m making you feel good, baby girl.” He said voice strangled as he shifted positions, laying your hips back down on the bed and hitting an entirely new spot inside of you.

But it wasn’t a request.

No,

It was a command.

An order.

So you did just that, meeting his gaze as your brows furrowed together in pure bliss. The white-hot feeling of your release was steadily rising inside of your belly, beginning to crest over your mind.

Then Minho’s focus was ripping away from you, eyes landing on the place where the two of you met. Body against body, warm flesh to warm flesh. As his cock prodded and prodded at your entrance. Coaxing unchecked and strangled moans from the deepest parts of your very being.

“Just look at you, kitten,” he purred, tone thick with so much lust. “Taking me so well- this pussy… my pussy, is stretching so perfectly for my cock alone.” At his words, he started pounding into you with newfound vigor, eyes flashing with some kind of darkness that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

The way he laid complete claim over you - over your body - caused the heat to stir even faster in your veins.

“Yes- yes, I’m yours, my body- it’s all yours.” You panted out, already feeling the drool pool at the corner of your mouth from the way your mouth was still cracked wide open. You watched in your delirious state, catching how Minho’s hooded eyes locked with the way your cunt completely enveloped him. The squelches of your wetness enveloping him filled the entire room around you, the sounds of skin slapping against skin sending lewdness to everything about the hazy, sex-ridden night.

Just then, one of Minho’s hands left your waist, traveling up your chest and finding one of your breasts once more. You bit down hard on your puffy bottom lip, watching with bated breath as his nimble fingers played with one of your buds. The one that he had already attacked with his mouth mere minutes earlier.

“Did he fuck you like this?”

His odd question was like an ice-cold knife in your senses, cutting through the dizziness and the red vision and making your heart leap into the pit of your stomach.

“Who?”

“Your ex, from university.”

Minho’s cock reached depths inside of you that no other man had ever discovered before in your entire life. With his cock pounding into you at an ungodly speed, and his fingers digging into your hip and playing with your too-sensitive tits, it was a true wonder how you hadn’t come yet.

“No, baby, he didn’t.” You found yourself answering, your throat dry and raw from all of the moaning and screaming you had been doing for what felt like the past century. And it was all for him- because of him.

“Hmm, but I wonder…” He continued, finger pinching at your throbbing nipple at the same time that his cock found an entirely new spot inside of you, hitting it with each shallow breath you took. “Were you fucked so good like this by him? Did he completely ravage you whole with his cock alone?”

You choked on a gasp at his words, finally coming to realize that he had been jealous the entire time.

Jealous of your ex whom you had dated back in your university days.

That’s why he had brought him up earlier in the night, while the two of you were making dinner in the kitchen. Your ex must’ve been on his mind for some obscure reason.

Nails scratching down the length of his exposed, proud back, you offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile. But from all of the tension that coursed through your entire body at the moment, you doubted that it looked all that believable.

“M-Min, no- no, he wasn’t as good, never could be, compared to you…” You whispered, voice turning desperate and strangled at the end of your words. You were quickly chasing your high, wanting it so very badly.

Minho was silent for a few beats, and you could feel him grow even more rigid inside of you. Like, your confession was a huge ego boost to him and he liked everything about it. Then suddenly he was yanking his hand away from your breast and going back to digging his nails into the tender skin of your waist.

“Where do you want me, kitten?” He grunted out as he struck a particular spot inside of you that sent a wave of fire to pass through your entire being.

With the way his thrusts were turning frenzied, you could tell he was close to the edge too. So you clutched a little harder at his hair, locking eyes with him and trying to covey every raw emotion you had bubbling up and out of you at that moment.

“Want you inside… wanna feel your cum in me- wanna be bred by you-” You sobbed wildly as your orgasm was quick in approaching. You felt your walls clench around this length that was buried so deeply inside of you. So wonderfully.

He twitched inside of you at your begging. It all went straight to his dick. “Then come for me, baby girl.”

And finally, you let yourself completely unravel.

Thread turning bare and unspooling from the tight knot that had been building up in the pit of your stomach for so very long.

Galaxies were cast across your vision as you screwed your eyes shut, throwing yourself into the bliss of it all. Your mouth fell open and from it came the most gut-wrenching, pleasurable scream you had ever made. Your heart felt like it was completely seized up in your chest, the beating having been long stopped from all of the desire and edging.

And then you felt a burst of warmth coat your insides, and your head was quickly thrown back onto the pillow beneath you. Your entire face felt like it had exploded into a vat of licking, wild flames, the shockwaves of release gripping onto your body viscerally.

You felt Minho’s hips stutter against yours, as he rode out both of your orgasms. Your walls fluttered around his cock, sucking him back in with each push and pull.

“You love it when I fuck my cum back into your little hole, kitten?” He taunted in a low, thick voice. Minho tipped down into you then, attacking your lips with a newfound intensity, lapping at your mouth. You moaned into him, the flush encasing the entirety of your body as your legs shook around him. “Want me to breed you every fucking night - just like this - until you’re so full of me that you can’t breathe?”

“Y-Yes!” Is all you could manage to say right then. You clutched at his shoulders frantically, nails raking across his skin as you felt his essence drip out of you. His hips jerked as he threw himself into the feeling of it all.

Minho pressed his sweat-slick forehead against yours, both of your chests rising and falling in tandem with the momentum of your releases. “Fuck- you’re so beautiful.” He said before he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead just as he stopped moving altogether.

And when he finally pulled out, you whined at the absence of him. At the feeling of being so empty once more. Because if you could, you’d wish to spend the rest of your days with him buried so deep inside of you that you can no longer think. That you could no longer stand or walk anymore.

He cooed as he looked down at you, brushing a few damp strands of your hair away from your head. His hands drew languid patterns into the sensitive skin of your thighs. “Look at you- all fucked out and just bursting with my seed.” Then his eyes flitted down to your exposed core and he tsked disapprovingly. “You need to take all of it, hmm? Can’t let any go to waste…”

You felt his fingers ghost over your swollen lips before he was gathering up the remaining cum that coated your inner thighs in his hands. And you had no time to react, as he was pressing gentle fingers back into you, between your folds, fingering his very seed back into your cunt.

“You didn’t even have to use the safeword,” his voice trailed off as he focused on his work, all while you squirmed underneath him from the stinging overstimulation that radiated across your body. “Been such a good baby for me, yeah? Taking everything I give you without complaining at all.”

When he was finished, Minho brought his hands up to his mouth and licked his fingers clean, giving you that wide, familiar smile you always loved. The one where he looked incredibly pleased with himself and especially, you.

He positioned himself on the bed so that he was laying on his side, facing you. When you turned and caught sight of the smile he still had on his face, you frowned in question.

Minho shrugged nonchalantly like he didn’t just rail you into oblivion for the last hour and a half in so many different ways. “You’re just super adorable when you’re fucked out like this- so quiet and calm.” He moved closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you towards his lovely body.

“I-I’m not fucked out.” Your stammering did not work to your advantage and seemed to prove his point as Minho let out a hearty chuckle from the way the pink spread up through your neck and pooled in your cheeks. You hit his shoulder playfully, too tired to deal with his antics any longer.

Because truthfully, you were fucked out.

Your brain was murky all over and your limbs were shaky and your core was numb from all of the touching and loving.

Even still, it felt amazing.

To feel everything, all at once.

And with the man you had been in love with for so very long.

“Can you just shut up and go to sleep already?” You finally managed to say in a clear voice without stumbling over your words like a bumbling fool.

Minho rolled his eyes just as you tucked your head into the warm spot of the crook of his neck, reveling in the way that he smelled faintly of sex and sweat.

It was a good scent on him.

A really good one.

One you would surely not forget for a very long time.

“Fine, fine- goodnight then, darling…” He muttered against your hair, pressing a kiss there as you heaved out a long, contented sigh. “Love you.”

You wrapped your arms a little tighter around his waist, burrowing into his calming presence just as the first waves of slumber overtook the forefront of your mind. “Love you too, Min.”

To be continued

🐈‍⬛ taglist: want to be added onto my taglist? well then, comment below on this post/reblog it, and indicate your interest in my taglist and i'll add you... or, you can send me a msg and request to be added~

🌾 tags: @sleepyleeji :: @if-spearb :: @hyunes4ngel :: @drhsthl :: @seosalad :: @toomuchtellyneck :: @endzii23 :: @smally97 :: @ana-marais98 :: @sherryblossom :: @priincehoseok :: @biribarabiribbaem :: @linovely :: @lolqxv :: @linonyang :: @morningstardada :: @taeriffic :: @day6andetcetera :: @hyuka-luvbot :: @linohumina :: @urmomma0324 :: @poisonivy2 :: @nappynapnaps :: @bellamuerte1987 :: @julciaqwerty :: @abbiestearsricochet :: @leeknowsramen :: @/leyknxw a yellow tag means that there was an error in tagging you.

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