#Lee Minho x y/n

[estellan0vella]

All I'll Ever Ask: L. Mh Lee Minho x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 20K

CW: Anxiety, Soft Minho, Protective Minho, Protective SKZ, Abuse of Power, Attempted Blackmail, Fighting, Violence

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part I

The faint hum of Minho’s desk lamp fills his room in the Alpha Phi frat house, casting a soft, golden glow over the cosy chaos. The walls are adorned with a mix of framed photos, band posters, and a whiteboard covered in scribbles about everything from anatomy diagrams to doodles of what you suspect are the other frat members with Changbin being drawn criminally short. His scent lingers in the air, clean, warm and something uniquely Minho.

You’re curled up in his desk chair, legs tucked beneath you, wearing a pair of black yoga shorts and one of his oversized grey hoodies. It hangs loose on your frame, enveloping you in its softness. The cuffs drape over your hands, one of which fidgets idly with a silicone pop-it on the desk. The other spins the anxiety ring on your left hand, the repetitive motion grounding as your thoughts churn.

The blue light glasses perched on your nose catch the light from your laptop, reflecting faintly in the otherwise dim room. Your eyes skim over the open document in front of you, but frustration clouds your focus. You mutter under your breath, venting half-formed curses at the assignment that’s been tormenting you for days.

Behind you, Minho lounges on the bed, the epitome of relaxed confidence. He’s shirtless, the sharp cut of his collarbones and lean torso illuminated in the lamp’s glow. His grey sweatpants sit low on his hips and a hefty veterinary science textbook rests on his lap, though his dark eyes stray from it every few seconds to watch you. Amusement dances in his gaze as he takes in your fidgeting fingers and the tiny crease between your brows.

“You’ve been sighing like a goddamn storm cloud for the past ten minutes,” he drawls, closing his book with a soft thud and leaning back against the headboard. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, baby?”

You groan loudly, your head dropping to the desk with a dramatic thump. The pop-it lets out a weak little pop under your cheek. “This assignment fucking sucks,” you mumble, your voice muffled against the desk. “I didn’t even get to pick the topic. It’s like Jae—the professor’s assistant—has it out for me. He fails me on everything he marks. Everything.”

Minho frowns, sitting up straighter, his full attention now on you. “You’re kidding me. Everything? Even the ones I’ve looked over?”

You lift your head, tugging off your glasses and shoving them into your hair. “Yes! Every single one. I swear, it’s personal at this point. Maybe he hates my writing style or something, but I’m at my wit’s end.”

His brows knit together, a spark of protective frustration flashing across his features. “That’s total bullshit. I’ve read your work. It’s good, really good. Better than half the crap I’ve had to peer review for my classes.”

“I don’t know, Minho.” You exhale heavily, leaning back in the chair and rubbing the bridge of your nose. “It’s just I don’t know how to deal with it. Every time I see another failed mark, it feels like I’m suffocating.”

Minho swings his legs off the bed and strides across the room in a few easy steps, his bare feet making no sound on the hardwood floor. He plants himself behind you, his hands landing gently on your shoulders. His thumbs press into the tense muscles at the base of your neck, working out the knots with practised ease.

“You should talk to your professor,” he says, his voice low and steady, the kind of tone that makes you feel safe no matter how stormy your thoughts get.

“Easier said than done,” you grumble, though you can’t help but lean into his touch. The warmth of his hands is soothing, and your eyes flutter shut as he kneads the tightness away. “What am I even supposed to say? ‘Hey, Professor, your assistant has a personal vendetta against me, and it’s driving me insane.’ That won’t sound whiny at all.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, his fingers still working their magic on your shoulders. “You don’t have to put it like that, silly girl. Just explain how you feel about your work. Writing’s subjective, right? Maybe Jae’s seeing it differently than you intend.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. His expression is soft, serious, and utterly focused on you. It’s the kind of look that makes your chest ache in the best way. “You really think that’ll help?”

“I think it’s worth a shot.” He leans down, brushing his lips against the top of your head. The kiss lingers, warm and reassuring. “And if it doesn’t, at least you’ll know you did everything you could. But for the record? Jae’s a dick.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, a shaky but genuine sound. You rest your head back against his stomach, his skin warm through the hoodie. “I didn’t tell you I failed because I didn’t know how to handle it. Just the thought of admitting it made me feel like I was going to lose it.”

His arms wrap around you loosely, his chin coming to rest on top of your head. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, frustration lacing his voice, though it’s not aimed at you. “Don’t carry that shit on your own. You’ve got me, remember?”

You let out a self-deprecating laugh, craning your neck to look up at him again. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty good at internalizing everything. Panic spiral, rinse, repeat.”

“Fucking stop that,” he says firmly, though a teasing smile tugs at his lips. He flicks your forehead lightly, making you scrunch your nose in mock annoyance. “That’s what I’m here for. You don’t have to do this alone, sweetheart.”

You poke his stomach in retaliation, a smirk breaking through your frustration. “Fine, Mr. Fix-It-All. I’ll talk to the professor. But if I have a meltdown, it’s on you to clean up the mess.”

Minho grins, ruffling your already messy hair. “Deal. Just don’t let some asshole make you think you’re not amazing at what you do. You’re a badass, baby. Don’t forget that.”

You smile, the tension in your chest easing just a little. “Thanks, Minho.”

“Always, sweetheart,” he replies, pressing another kiss to your head.

The fidget cube spins endlessly in your fingers, its clicks and rotations keeping time with the chaotic rhythm of your thoughts. The assignment taunts you from the glowing laptop screen, each word blurred by the mental block you can’t seem to break through. The harder you try to focus, the more it feels like your brain is wading through quicksand. Anxiety bubbles under the surface, rising like steam in a pressure cooker, and every fidget is a small attempt to keep yourself from boiling over.

Behind you, Minho hasn’t moved. His hands rest lightly on your shoulders, his thumbs occasionally brushing soothing circles over the fabric of his hoodie that you’ve claimed as your own. His quiet presence is grounding, though he says nothing for a while, letting the silence stretch between you. Finally, he sighs with a dramatic exhale, his warm breath tickling the back of your neck.

“Okay, that’s enough of this,” he declares, voice laced with playful exasperation. His hands grip your shoulders firmly but gently. “Let’s figure this shit out, baby. Up you get.”

You glance at him over your shoulder, your eyebrow arching in disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘up you get?’ I’m trying to—”

Before you can finish, he swivels the desk chair around and slides it back a few inches, his movements deliberate and fluid. He pulls you gently but insistently to your feet, his fingers wrapping securely around your wrists. “I mean,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument, “you’re sitting in my lap. Maybe if I hold onto you, that overthinking brain of yours will actually chill the fuck out for two seconds.”

He plops into the chair, tugging you down with him as if this is the most natural solution in the world. He settles you sideways across his lap, his arms wrapping securely around your waist. You try to frown at him, but the warmth of his chest against your back and the way his thumbs rub slow, reassuring circles against your sides make it impossible. “You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, though your body instinctively relaxes against his.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he teases, resting his chin on your shoulder and peering at the laptop screen. His dark eyes scan the glaringly blank document with mock seriousness. “Alright, first step, let’s go through your old assignments. I want to see exactly what kind of bullshit this Jae guy’s been pulling. Maybe there’s a pattern.”

“Fine,” you mumble, reaching for the laptop and navigating to the folder where you’ve stashed every paper you’ve written for this class. The tension in your shoulders begins to creep back, but before you can start spiralling again, Minho reaches over to grab the mug of tea he made for you earlier. He presses it into your hands with a quiet but firm, “Drink.”

You roll your eyes but obey, the mug warming your palms as you take a sip. The faint sweetness of the tea soothes your throat, and something in Minho’s unwavering presence keeps you tethered as he leans forward to scroll through the latest assignment. His brows furrow almost immediately, his jaw tightening as his eyes skim over Jae’s comments.

“What the fuck?” he mutters, his voice low and incredulous. “This isn’t even constructive criticism. ‘Lacks depth?’ ‘Needs better support for arguments?’ That’s it? No examples, no explanation of what he wants? How the hell are you supposed to improve if he’s not giving you anything to work with?”

Your fingers abandon the fidget cube, moving to spin the anxiety ring on your left hand instead. Minho doesn’t miss the subtle shift. His gaze flicks to your restless fingers, and he lets out a soft sigh, pulling back slightly. “Okay, fuck this.”

Before you can protest, he closes your laptop and sets it on the desk, his movements decisive but careful. Grabbing the silicone pop-it toy from the mess of trinkets on the desk, he guides you up and leads you to the bed with an ease that leaves no room for argument.

He drops onto the mattress, leaning back against the headboard, and pulls you into his lap again. His arms wrap securely around you as he presses the pop-it into your hands.

“Here,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Pop this thing until you feel like you can breathe again. No overthinking, no staring at that laptop. Just you and me, baby.”

You rest your head against his shoulder and the first pop of the toy echoes faintly in the quiet room, followed by another, and another. The rhythmic motion gives your restless hands something to focus on, and slowly, the tightness in your chest starts to loosen.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Minho speaks again, his lips brushing against your hair as he does. “Next lecture, you’re gonna talk to him, okay? We’ll figure out exactly what you want to say together. No stressing over it by yourself.”

You let out a short laugh, tilting your head to glance up at him. “So, now we’re scripting confrontations? Is that what we’re doing?”

“Well, yeah,” he says with a grin, clearly enjoying himself. “We both know you’re not gonna do it without a script. Let’s not pretend. We’ve walked around Target five times before you let me ask a worker for help finding something. Oh, and how about all the times I’ve had to complain about your coffee order? Honestly, I deserve a medal.”

“Minho—”

“No, no, I’m not done,” he says, his grin widening. “I see one tomato on your plate? Boom, gone. Not on my watch. And let’s not forget the time I literally did your return for you because you couldn’t even walk into the store because you were so anxious about being inconvenient. That’s right, baby. Boyfriend of the year, right here.”

Despite yourself, a laugh bubbles out of you, light and free. You shake your head, poking him in the chest. “You’re so fucking annoying, you know that?”

“And yet,” he says, dipping his head to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “you love me for it.”

You don’t reply, but the way you lean into him speaks louder than words. He grins, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and flicking on the TV. The screen lights up with a true crime documentary, and he drapes a blanket over both of you.

“Now,” he says, pulling you closer against him, “watch some freaky shit while you pop that thing. We’ll deal with Jae later. Right now, it’s just you and me.”

You press a kiss to his jaw, settling into his embrace as the documentary begins. The sound of the pop-it fills the quiet gaps between the narrator’s voice, and for the first time in days, the storm inside you feels like it’s clearing. With Minho’s arms around you, you can almost believe that everything will be okay.

The lecture hall is quieter now, the echoes of chatter and rustling papers fading as the last of the students filter out in pairs or small groups. The hum of their voices lingers faintly in the hallway before dissolving into silence, leaving you alone in the cavernous space with Jae, the professor’s assistant. He’s at the front of the room, gathering his things, his laptop, a few loose papers, and a sleek leather satchel slung carelessly over one shoulder.

You sit frozen at your desk in the middle of the room, the cool metal of your anxiety ring spinning beneath your fingers as you fidget. Minho’s words from the night before replay in your mind, his voice steady and reassuring: Just talk to him. You take a slow, steadying breath, tugging the edges of his hoodie closer around you. The weight of it feels protective, grounding.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you steel your nerves and make your way down the aisle. Your black flares swish softly with each step, and the cropped white turtleneck you’re wearing feels almost too revealing under the fluorescent lights, despite the oversized hoodie hanging loose around your shoulders. As you approach the desk, your stomach churns with a mixture of nervousness and determination.

Jae glances up as you stop in front of him, his expression neutral at first, then shifting into something harder to read, his gaze flickers over you briefly before settling on your face. “Oh, hey. Y/N, right?” His tone is casual, almost too casual. “You need something?”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and clearing your voice. “Yeah, um, I wanted to talk about my grades. I’ve been failing a lot of assignments, and I just… I want to understand where I’m going wrong.”

His head tilts slightly, his lips curling into what might have been a polite smile if not for the strange glint in his eyes. “Grades, huh?” He sets his bag on the desk and leans back against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright. What specifically do you want to know?”

You hesitate, feeling small under his scrutinizing gaze, but you push through. “Well, I’ve been reading the feedback you’ve given, but it’s not very specific. It’s hard to know what to fix when all I see is stuff like ‘lacks depth’ or ‘needs better support.’ I was hoping you could explain what you’re looking for, so I can improve.”

Jae’s lips twitch into something that isn’t quite a smirk, but it makes your stomach twist uneasily. “Hmm,” he hums, considering you for a moment. “Yeah, I’ve noticed you’ve been struggling. But, you know, sometimes it’s not just about the writing. It’s about making the right… connections.”

Your brow furrows, confusion overtaking your nerves for a moment. “Connections?” you repeat, the word foreign in this context.

He shrugs, his smirk growing more pronounced. “Let’s cut to the chase,” he says, his voice lowering as he straightens up, stepping a little closer. “You’re a smart girl. If you really want to turn those grades around, there’s an easy way to make it happen.”

Your stomach twists harder now, unease blossoming into something closer to alarm. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice cautious, even as the pit in your stomach deepens.

He leans in, his tone conspiratorial, as if he’s letting you in on some great secret. “You fuck me, just once, and I’ll make sure you never fail another assignment. Ever.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, the air in your lungs vanishing as the room seems to tilt slightly. Your brain stalls, struggling to process the sheer audacity of what he just said. “I—” you start, your voice catching in your throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

Jae chuckles softly, as if this is all a joke and you’re the one who doesn’t get it. “You heard me. Look, it’s not a big deal. Just one time. You do that, and I’ll make sure your grades are golden for the rest of the semester.”

Your heart pounds so loudly in your ears that his next words almost drown beneath it. The bile rises in your throat, and your voice, when it comes, is small, shaky, barely your own. “That’s… that’s not appropriate.”

He shrugs, unfazed, his smirk never faltering. “Think about it,” he says smoothly, his tone bordering on smug now. “I’m giving you an out here. No more stress, no more late nights trying to figure out what I want. Just one night, and it’s all good.”

The room feels suffocating, the fluorescent lights too bright, the walls too close. Your fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, your body trembling as adrenaline courses through you. “I—I need to go,” you stammer, taking a shaky step back.

Jae’s smirk deepens as he watches you retreat, his posture still casual, as if he hasn’t just turned your world upside down. “Suit yourself,” he calls after you, his tone infuriatingly light. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.”

You don’t stay to hear more. Grabbing your bag, you bolt for the door, your steps echoing loudly in the empty lecture hall. The hallway feels colder, the bile rising higher in your throat as your vision blurs with tears of humiliation and anger. His words play on a loop in your head, the weight of them crushing.

You don’t stop walking until you reach the Alpha Phi frat house, your breathing shallow and uneven. Your chest is tight, every inhale feeling like it catches somewhere in your ribs. Your hands tremble as you fumble with the front door, struggling to get it open. The chill of the evening air still clings to your skin, but the panic burning in your chest is what drives you forward.

Minho’s at his lectures, you know that much. But Jisung should be home, and if anyone can help you calm down, it’s him. Just the thought of someone familiar, someone safe, is enough to keep you moving.

The door swings open, and the warm hum of voices greets you. Laughter spills out from the living room, a sound that feels almost surreal against the chaos in your mind. Chan is the first to notice you as you step inside, his easy laugh fading the moment he spots you. He’s sitting on the couch with Seungmin, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Changbin, all of them mid-conversation, but his eyes lock on yours instantly.

“Y/N?” Chan’s voice shifts, concern threading through it as he stands quickly. His brows knit together as he takes in the wide, glassy look in your eyes and the way your hands clutch tightly at the edges of Minho’s hoodie. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

The question cuts through the fog in your mind, but only barely. The words you need are trapped in your throat, jagged and sharp, refusing to come out. You feel frozen, the weight of the panic pressing down harder, your chest heaving with shallow breaths.

Chan is already moving, crossing the room in a few strides. He places a firm but gentle hand on your arm, his touch grounding. “Hey, come here,” he says softly, his voice steady and sure. “Let’s sit down.”

He guides you to the couch, motioning for the others to clear the space. “Guys, out. Now.”

There’s no hesitation, no argument. The others exchange quick glances but don’t question him. Seungmin and Jeongin head upstairs, Hyunjin and Changbin following close behind. Their laughter and chatter are gone now, replaced by the quiet weight of concern that lingers in the room.

Felix stays, though, settling on the couch beside you as Chan crouches in front of you. His warm, freckled face is creased with worry, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he leans closer.

“You’re on the verge of a panic attack, aren’t you?” Chan asks gently, his tone calm but firm and you nod. “That’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything right now, alright? Just focus on me and Felix.”

Felix nods, his expression soft and understanding as he shifts closer. “We’ve got you, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “Just breathe, love. We’re right here.”

You nod faintly, but the tears that have been threatening to fall spill over now, streaking hot down your cheeks. Your trembling hands clutch at the oversized hoodie, the fabric twisting under your grip. The room feels too bright, too still, but then Chan wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a firm, steadying hug.

“You’re safe,” Chan whispers, his voice right by your ear. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. You’re not alone.”

Felix shifts closer, his warmth pressing against your other side. His arm drapes gently around your shoulders as he leans his head against yours. “Just let us be here with you,” he murmurs, his accent soft and lilting. “Don’t worry about saying anything.”

The weight of their presence is overwhelming in the best way, their warmth wrapping around you like a cocoon. You let yourself lean into them, the tears coming harder now as the tidal wave of panic begins to crest. For a moment, you feel like you might drown in it, but their voices pull you back.

The sound of footsteps draws your attention briefly, and you glance up to see Changbin approaching, something small and colourful in his hand. It takes a second for your blurry vision to clear enough to realize what it is: your fidget cube. He holds it out to you silently, his dark eyes warm with understanding.

“I thought you might need this,” Changbin says softly, his voice steady but gentle.

You take it with trembling hands, managing a faint nod of thanks as he gives you a small, reassuring smile before retreating back upstairs. The familiar feel of the cube in your hands helps anchor you, its smooth surfaces and clicking mechanisms giving your fingers something to focus on.

Chan’s hand rubs slow, soothing circles on your back as he keeps his voice low and steady. “You’re doing great, Y/N. Just keep breathing. Deep breath in and out. That’s it.”

Felix hums softly, a sound almost like a lullaby as he presses a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re not alone. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere.”

Minho sits in the middle of his animal behaviour lecture, slouched low in his seat, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Normally, this class keeps his attention, discussions about operant conditioning, animal instincts, and behavioural patterns are usually right up his alley. But today, the professor’s droning voice feels like background noise. His mind is restless, caught somewhere between the monotony of the lecture and the clock on the wall, which seems to tick slower every time he looks at it.

He pulls out his phone, thinking maybe a quick scroll will distract him when it vibrates in his hand. A call from Changbin. Minho frowns. Changbin doesn’t call unless something’s wrong. His stomach twists as he answers, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Yo, what’s up?” he says, keeping his voice low. He glances around to make sure the professor hasn’t noticed him.

“Minho,” Changbin’s voice is quiet but laced with urgency. “You need to get back to the house. Now.”

Minho straightens in his seat, his body tensing. “What? Why? What’s going on?”

“It’s Y/N,” Changbin explains, his words coming fast. “She showed up looking for Jisung, but he wasn’t here. She’s in the living room with Chan and Felix now. Man, she looked like she was about to have a full-blown panic attack when she came in.”

Minho’s grip tightens on his phone. “Is she okay? Did she say anything?”

“No,” Changbin says, his tone grim. “She’s in that, you know, that nonverbal state she gets into sometimes when it’s bad. I gave her her fidget cube, but it’s not really helping. She’s completely shaken.”

“Shit,” Minho mutters under his breath, his mind already racing. He shoves his notebook and pens into his bag without caring about the mess. “Stay with her. I’m leaving now.”

“Chan and Felix are with her,” Changbin reassures him. “But yeah, hurry, man. She needs you.”

“I’m on my way.” Minho’s voice is clipped as he ends the call, already standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He doesn’t glance back at the professor, doesn’t care about the glares he gets from classmates as he manoeuvres his way out of the row. He takes the stairs two at a time and bursts into the hallway, his boots thudding against the tiled floor as he cuts through campus at a near jog.

His thoughts race alongside him. The image of you, wide-eyed, trembling, on the verge of breaking, plays over and over in his mind. He twists the rings on his fingers absentmindedly, picturing the way you’ve done the same when anxiety takes hold. He knows those rings are as much for you as they are for him. The thought makes him walk even faster.

By the time he reaches the Alpha Phi house, his chest is tight, and his breathing is shallow, not from exertion, but from the urgency pressing down on him. He doesn’t bother with his usual calm entrance, throwing the door open with enough force to make it bang against the wall. His eyes immediately scan the space, locking on the living room.

You’re curled up on the couch, the oversized hoodie you borrowed from him drowning your frame. Your knees are drawn up to your chest, your fingers twitching against the fidget cube Changbin handed you. But the small, rhythmic clicks aren’t soothing you the way they should. Your shoulders are stiff, your breathing shallow.

Chan is sitting beside you, his body turned toward you, his hand resting lightly on the back of the couch as if ready to intervene at any moment. Felix is on your other side, his soft, freckled face a mask of quiet concern as he leans close. Neither of them says anything when Minho steps into the room.

Chan stands, nodding toward Minho in silent understanding. “She hasn’t said anything,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low. “But she’s not in a good place.”

Felix glances up briefly, offering a small, reassuring smile before turning his focus back to you.

Minho doesn’t waste a second. He drops his bag to the floor, stepping around Chan to sit beside you. His dark eyes sweep over your face, taking in the tear tracks on your cheeks, the way your lips tremble even though you’re not speaking. His heart clenches, but he keeps his voice steady and soft.

“Hey,” he murmurs as he settles beside you, leaning forward slightly. “It’s me. I’m right here.”

You don’t respond, your gaze fixed on the fidget cube in your hands. Your fingers fumble with it, twisting and clicking aimlessly, but it’s clear it’s not enough. Minho doesn’t push. He knows you won’t meet his eyes or speak until you’re ready.

Instead, he extends a hand, holding it steady in your line of sight. “C’mere, baby,” he says gently. “Take my hand. You don’t have to do anything else.”

For a moment, you hesitate. Then, slowly, your trembling fingers let go of the cube and slide over his palm. You don’t look at him, but you begin twisting the rings on his fingers, your movements careful, deliberate. Minho releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“That’s it,” he says softly, his other hand resting lightly on your knee. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Felix leans closer, his hand brushing over your arm in a soothing motion. “We’re all here for you. Take your time.”

The room feels quiet, but it’s not heavy. It’s the kind of silence filled with understanding, the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the couch the only sounds. Minho stays still, watching as you twist his rings, your breathing begins to slow. The tension in your shoulders eases a fraction, but it’s clear you’re still struggling to ground yourself.

Minho leans in slightly, his thumb tracing small circles over your knee. “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart,” he says softly. “No rush. Just let me know you’re here, okay?”

Your grip on his hand tightens briefly. An unspoken answer. Minho feels a wave of relief crash over him, though he doesn’t let it show. He just adjusts his position slightly, keeping himself as close to you as possible without crowding you.

As the minutes tick by, the room remains still except for the faint sound of your fingers twisting Minho’s rings. The cool metal shifts smoothly under your touch, catching the light with every turn.

Minho’s presence is unwavering. His dark eyes are steady, warm, and full of quiet reassurance, never leaving you. He waits, giving you the space you need to exist in this moment, no expectations, no pressure.

He’s the one to break the silence, his voice low and soft, with that familiar teasing edge that always makes you feel lighter. “So, this is where my hoodie went.”

The words are simple, but they land like a soft anchor, pulling you gently back toward the present. Your lips twitch just barely, a hint of a smile ghosting across your face. It’s fleeting, but Minho catches it, and the weight pressing on his chest loosens just a fraction.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he continues, leaning his head back against the couch with a casual air. His tone carries a playful warmth as if he’s inviting you to share a little moment of normalcy with him. “You look cute today. Those flares and that crop top? Already killing it. But you add my hoodie?” He smirks, lowering his voice to a murmur like he’s letting you in on a secret. “Sweetheart, I could just fucking eat you.”

This time, the smile on your face lingers a little longer, though your focus stays on his hands, your fingers still moving over the rings. Minho doesn’t push for more. He’s patient, letting you take these small, steady steps toward feeling like yourself again.

After a moment, he shifts slightly, brushing his knee against yours as he speaks again, his tone casual but inviting. “I’m making sweet potato noodles tonight. You wanna stay over?”

You nod, the motion small but deliberate, and something in his chest softens. His hand squeezes your knee lightly in acknowledgement.

“Good,” he says with quiet certainty. “Can’t have you missing out on my culinary genius. You’d be devastated.”

Before the warmth of the moment can settle completely, the front door bangs open, and the sound of loud, stomping footsteps fills the house. Minho doesn’t even flinch, but you tense slightly until a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

“Seungmin called me!” Jisung declares, practically bounding into the living room with the kind of chaotic energy only he could bring. His pale green hair bounces as he moves, and his expression is a mix of exaggerated determination and genuine concern. “I’m here to save the day and my best friend from the suffocating void that is anxiety!”

Felix, who has stayed quiet until now, chuckles softly as he stands from the couch. “Alright, Ji, she’s all yours. I’ll make some tea.”

Jisung steps aside to let Felix pass, then all but dives into the now-empty spot on your other side. He lands with a bounce, his knee knocking gently against yours as he turns to face you fully.

Chan gives your shoulder a brief squeeze before heading toward the kitchen with Felix, the two of them disappearing behind the swinging door. The sound of the kettle clicking on echoes faintly, a comforting background noise.

Now alone with Minho and Jisung, you glance up briefly, your eyes meeting Jisung’s for the first time. His usual playful grin is softened, though his energy is as unmistakably Jisung as ever. “Hey,” he says, his voice a little quieter now. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head, the movement small but definitive.

“Okay,” Jisung replies immediately, not missing a beat. His tone is light, free of any judgment. “What about throwing things? Crying? Hitting something? Hitting someone?”

Your fingers falter on Minho’s rings at the word someone. It’s a tiny pause, so subtle most people wouldn’t notice, but Minho and Jisung aren’t most people. Their eyes meet briefly over your head, an unspoken exchange passing between them.

“Alright,” Jisung says gently, shifting his tone. “No pressure. We’ll just sit here and vibe.”

You don’t respond, but your hands resume their rhythm, twisting Minho’s rings in a familiar pattern. Minho leans closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch is light and brief, but it lingers just enough to remind you he’s here.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Minho murmurs, his voice steady and grounding. His thumb resumes its slow, soothing circles on your knee. “Whenever you’re ready, we’re here.”

Jisung, never one to let a moment of silence sit too long, starts humming under his breath. The tune is random, a little chaotic, but it’s so unmistakably him that it feels like a soft tether pulling you further out of the fog. He adds exaggerated beatboxing noises, throwing a dramatic drumroll into the mix for good measure.

“Better than Spotify, huh?” he quips, nudging your arm lightly with his elbow. “I can do requests, too, if you’re into, like, anxiety-friendly bangers.”

A tiny laugh escapes before you can stop it, barely audible but real. Minho’s gaze flicks to you, his lips twitching into the faintest smile as he catches the sound.

“There she is,” Jisung says triumphantly, leaning closer with a grin. “You laughed. That means you’re stuck with me now.”

Minho smirks, resting his head lightly against the back of the couch. “You heard him, sweetheart. You’re officially stuck with us. Might as well give up and let us take care of you.”

You don’t respond, but you lean ever so slightly into Minho’s side, your weight shifting closer to him. His arm moves instinctively, wrapping around your shoulders and holding you securely against him.

The sound of the kettle clicks off in the kitchen, and a few moments later, Felix reappears, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs of tea. He sets it down on the coffee table, his gentle smile returning as he hands one to you.

“Chamomile,” he says quietly.

You take the mug with both hands, the heat radiating through your palms grounding you further. The room is quiet again, filled only with the faint hum of Jisung’s off-key humming and the steady presence of the three people around you. 

“Come on,” Minho murmurs, leaning in slightly. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

You blink up at him, your hands hesitating over his fingers for just a moment before you let them fall away. He stands smoothly, his movements deliberate but unhurried, and extends a hand toward you. You take it wordlessly, your fingers slipping into his, and he gives a gentle tug, guiding you to your feet.

“Good girl,” he says softly, his lips curving into the faintest smile as he squeezes your hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”

You follow him out of the living room, the familiar feel of his hand grounding you as he leads the way. Jisung throws an exaggerated thumbs-up from his spot on the couch, grinning as if he’s just overseen a major life event. You catch the faint sound of him humming something ridiculous under his breath as you leave.

The walk up the stairs is quiet, the hum of the house filling the silence between you. The faint creak of wood beneath your steps feels oddly comforting. By the time you reach Minho’s room, you’re already exhaling a little easier. The sight of the rumpled bedspread, the carefully cluttered desk, and the small pile of your fidget toys stacked in a corner feels like stepping into safety.

Minho closes the door softly behind you and steps closer, his hands brushing lightly over your shoulders. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you sorted and comfy.”

He moves to his dresser, pulling open a drawer and rifling through it before he pulls out one of his oversized jumpers and a pair of black basketball shorts. He sets the clothes on the bed and turns back to you, his expression softer now, his eyes scanning your face.

Stepping closer, he rests his hands lightly on the hem of your hoodie. “Can I?” he asks quietly, his voice gentle.

You nod, your fingers still clutching his rings. His movements are careful as he peels the hoodie off your frame, lifting it over your head and pushing it off your shoulders. He folds it automatically, setting it on the chair nearby before his hands find the hem of your cropped turtleneck.

He pauses, his eyes meeting yours briefly, silently checking in. When you nod again, he pulls it over your head just as gently, leaving you in your lace bra. His eyes flicker to yours again, scanning for any hint of discomfort, but he doesn’t linger.

“Almost there,” he murmurs, crouching slightly to help you step out of your flares. The fabric pools at your feet, and he scoops it up, tossing it onto the same chair.

He holds the shorts open for you, guiding the waistband up with steady hands before he reaches for the jumper. The oversized fabric swallows you as he pulls it over your head, the scent of him wrapping around you instantly. It’s soft, warm, and comforting in a way that makes your shoulders relax just a little more.

“Better?” he asks, his fingers brushing lightly over your arms, the touch tentative but grounding.

You nod, a small but sure movement, and he smiles faintly before stepping closer again. His hands move to your hair, unclipping the bun that’s come loose. The strands tumble down messily, and he works through them with careful fingers, smoothing out tangles with an ease that speaks to how often he’s done this for you.

Once he’s finished, he tilts his head slightly, studying you with that quiet, unwavering gaze. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks softly.

You shake your head and he doesn’t press.

“Okay, you hungry?”

You hesitate for a moment, then nod, your voice barely audible when you speak. “A little. That sweet potato noodles offer still on the table?”

“For you, baby? Obviously. We’ll go cook now, or you can sit and look pretty while I cook. Hmm?”

You nod again, a small, fleeting smile tugging at your lips.

“Good.” He presses a light kiss to the top of your head, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “Grab one of your fidget things, yeah?”

You reach for the silicone pop-it on the desk, the familiar texture calming as you clutch it in your hand. Minho takes your free hand again, leading you back downstairs to the kitchen.

The space feels lively when you step inside. Jisung is perched on a step stool, his head half-buried in a cupboard as he mutters something unintelligible. Boxes and bags clatter faintly as he rummages, and he lets out a dramatic groan.

“There’s no fucking Oreos left!” Jisung whines, turning to face the room with his hands thrown up. “Who eats all the Oreos and doesn’t replace them? That’s a crime against the Geneva Convention! An actual war crime!”

Minho rolls his eyes, steering you toward one of the stools at the kitchen island. You sit down quietly, the pop-it resting in your lap as your fingers press it rhythmically, the soft popping sound blending into the warm chaos around you.

Jisung bounds over, clutching a bag of popcorn triumphantly. He wraps his arms around your shoulders in a dramatic hug, leaning his head against yours. “Bestie! You’re alive. I missed you. I mean, you were gone for like five minutes, but still.”

You huff softly, the sound almost like a laugh, and Jisung grins before plopping onto the stool beside you. “Alright, let’s vibe.”

Minho is already at work, his movements practised and fluid. Sweet potatoes, spinach, sesame oil, and a variety of spices pile onto the counter as he pulls ingredients from the fridge. His hands move with precision as he peels a sweet potato, the rhythm of the peeler scraping against the skin oddly soothing.

“Can I get in on the noodles?” Jisung asks, watching Minho work with wide eyes. “I mean, you’re dating my best friend, so like you feed her, you have to feed me. It’s the law”

Minho doesn’t even look up. “Not how it works, you scavenger.”

Jisung clutches his chest dramatically. “So cruel. So heartless. I’m starving, Minho!”

“You just raided the cupboard!” Minho shoots back, but he sighs, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll make extra. But you’re doing the dishes.”

“Deal,” Jisung says instantly, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

The warm, savoury scent of sesame oil fills the room as Minho starts cooking, the soft sizzle of vegetables hitting the pan adding to the comforting atmosphere. You sit quietly, watching him, the pop-it still in your hands. He glances at you occasionally, his gaze softening each time he sees the tension in your fingers easing.

Jisung nudges you lightly, his grin infectious. “You know he’s showing off, right? I bet he doesn’t go all out like this when it’s just him.”

“Shut up,” Minho mutters, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound small but genuine, and Minho’s shoulders relax slightly at the sound. He tosses the sweet potato noodles lightly in the pan, the smell of garlic and spices filling the kitchen as he turns to you with a smile that feels like home. In this moment, with the warmth of the kitchen and the familiar banter around you, the lingering weight in your chest feels just a little lighter.

The room is bathed in the soft, golden glow of Minho’s desk lamp, its warm light casting a cosy hue over the space. The faint blue glow of the TV on the wall flickers, illuminating the dim room as Corpse Bride plays, its melodic score filling the air. You’re seated cross-legged on Minho’s bed, a steaming bowl of vegetarian ramen cradled in your lap, the comforting aroma of miso broth mingling with the warmth of the room.

Minho sits beside you, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his own bowl resting in his hands. He’s shirtless, as usual, the smooth planes of his chest catching the soft light, and his black sweatpants hang low on his hips. His hair is slightly mussed, strands sticking up in different directions like he’s been running his fingers through it all day. He looks comfortable, utterly at ease, but his eyes flick toward you more than the TV, observing you with quiet attentiveness.

You’re wearing one of his oversized black t-shirts, the fabric hanging loosely on your frame, paired with a set of lacy green boyshorts and your favourite Alice in Wonderland ankle socks. Your hair is clipped up haphazardly, stray strands framing your face, and Minho can’t help but notice how you tug at the loose fabric of the shirt every now and then as if grounding yourself in its softness.

“Dunno why we don’t eat ramen like this every day,” Minho says, breaking the quiet. His voice is casual, a playful warmth weaving through his words as he slurps up another bite of noodles. “This shit’s perfect.”

You hum in agreement, twirling noodles around your chopsticks, though the motions are absentminded. Your bowl is loaded with colourful vegetables, tofu cubes, and the rich, flavorful broth he tailored just for you, separating the ingredients in the pan like second nature to keep it vegetarian. It’s something he always does, unprompted, and it warms you, even when you don’t have the energy to say so.

As the movie continues, Minho keeps stealing glances at you, his sharp eyes catching the subtle ways you’re quieter than usual—the way your chopsticks hover over the bowl, the way you push a piece of tofu around without eating it. His brow furrows slightly. He knows you too well to miss the signs.

“So,” he says finally, his tone light but laced with curiosity, “wanna tell me why you’re not going to your lectures?”

Your hand freezes mid-twirl, the noodles slipping back into the bowl. Your shoulders stiffen slightly, but you don’t look at him. Instead, your gaze fixes on the TV, the animated characters moving through the dim glow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Minho quirks an eyebrow, setting his bowl down on the nightstand with deliberate movements. He shifts to face you more fully, one leg bending as he props himself up on his elbow. “Two weeks,” he says, his voice dropping to something firmer. “You haven’t been to a single fucking class”

You shrug, your eyes still glued to the screen. “I just haven’t felt like it.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies, not buying it for a second. “Let’s try that again. Did you talk to the assistant? What’s his name- Jae?”

At the mention of the name, your reaction is immediate. Your shoulders tense, and your grip on the chopsticks tightens slightly. Minho notices, of course, his sharp eyes narrowing as he sits up straighter.

“Okay, so you did talk to him. What happened? Did he insult your work? Call you stupid? What?”

You keep stirring the broth, your chopsticks moving aimlessly as if they might somehow distract him. The weight in the room seems to press down harder, the background noise of the movie fading into nothing.

Minho leans forward, the mattress shifting under his weight as he watches you closely. “Did he touch you?”

“No!” you say quickly, your head snapping up to meet his gaze. “No, Minho, nothing like that.”

He studies you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours for any hint of what’s going on. The tension in his shoulders relaxes just slightly, but the concern etched across his face doesn’t fade.

“Alright,” he says slowly, his voice steady and careful. “But he did something. Something that’s got you avoiding your fucking lectures. So, what did he say? Verbatim.”

You shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “Min, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

His jaw tightens, and his hand flexes briefly against the bedspread. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, leaning back against the headboard as his eyes flicker over you. He doesn’t push. Not yet. But the silence feels heavier now like he’s waiting for you to crack.

“You spoke to the guy,” he says after a beat, his tone quieter but no less insistent. “And now you won’t even go to class. That feels to me like something happened.”

“Min, please,” you whisper, your voice carrying a hint of exhaustion like the weight of this has been pressing on you for days.

He leans forward again, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. His lips linger there, soft and warm, before he pulls back. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper now.

You nod faintly, but your lips press into a thin line, and Minho knows you’re not ready. He watches you for a moment longer, his hand brushing lightly against your knee in a silent show of support. Then he leans back into the pillows, his body shifting as he rests his arm behind his head.

“Alright,” he says quietly. “But just so we’re clear, you’re not going through this alone. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

You nod again, still not meeting his eyes. Your fingers tighten slightly around the bowl, but you don’t speak, and Minho lets the conversation drop. For now.

The room feels quieter, the muted colours of the TV casting soft shadows across the walls. Minho reaches for his bowl again, taking another bite of noodles as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t push, doesn’t press, but his presence is steady, a quiet reminder that he’s here.

The weight in the room doesn’t lift entirely, but the warmth of Minho beside you, the gentle hum of the movie, and the familiarity of the space are enough to make it manageable. And for now, that’s enough.

You’re curled up against Minho, your face nestled against his chest, one hand loosely resting on his side. His oversized shirt engulfs you, the hem riding up slightly to reveal the curve of your hip as you shift in your sleep. The blanket drapes lazily over you both, but Minho’s mind is far from the peace that your quiet form exudes.

He lies still for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. The way your brow smooths out in sleep, the soft flutter of your eyelashes against your cheek. It all tugs at his heart. But beneath the warmth he feels for you is a simmering frustration, not directed at you but at the situation. Something happened.

He can feel it in the way your laughter doesn’t come as easily, in the way you poke at your food more than you eat it, and in the way you’ve avoided your lectures for two weeks. And whoever caused that? They’re going to regret it.

Carefully, he begins untangling himself from you, moving with the kind of precision only Minho can manage. He lifts your arm gently, resting it against the pillow, and pulls the blanket higher over your shoulders.

Brushing a strand of hair from your face, he lets his fingers linger briefly against your temple before standing. The glow from his phone illuminates his path as he grabs it from the nightstand, padding silently out of the room. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, leaving you to rest.

The hallway is dim, lit faintly by the golden glow of a lamp someone left on. Minho moves with purpose, his steps quick but quiet as he makes his way to Felix’s room. A sliver of light spills out from under the door, and the faint sound of typing reaches his ears. Felix is still awake.

Minho knocks once, sharp but not loud, before twisting the handle and stepping inside. Felix is sprawled across his bed, his laptop propped on a pillow in front of him as he scrolls through what looks like a recipe website. His face lights up slightly when he sees Minho, but the curious tilt of his head suggests he knows this isn’t a social call.

“What’s up?” Felix asks, closing the laptop and sitting up, his brows furrowing as he takes in Minho’s tense expression.

Minho closes the door behind him, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. “Y/N trusts you.”

Felix blinks, slightly taken aback. “I’d say so, yeah. Why?”

Minho runs a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose as he chooses his words. “Good. I need you to find out what her dickhead professor’s assistant said to her two weeks ago.”

Felix frowns. "I'm gonna need more context"

Minho steps forward, his voice dropping as he explains. “The day she came here. On the verge of a panic attack. You and Chan were with her, yeah? Something happened before she showed up.”

Felix nods slowly, his posture straightening. “Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

Minho’s expression hardens. “Before she came here, she spoke to her professor’s assistant. That guy’s been failing her on assignments she absolutely should’ve passed. Since then? She hasn’t gone to a single journalism lecture. Not one. She won’t tell me what he said or did, and I need to know. She trusts you. So, you talk to her, get her to open up, and then you tell me.”

Felix leans back, crossing his arms as he studies Minho. “You’re asking me to break her trust?”

“Yep,” Minho says bluntly, not missing a beat.

Felix snorts, though there’s no humour in it. “Why not go to Jisung? She tells him everything.”

Minho shakes his head, his tone flat. “Because Jisung’s gonna lose his shit. He’d storm into her lecture hall, make a scene, and scare the crap out of her. She doesn’t need that.”

“And you’re not gonna overreact?” Felix asks, his brows arching sceptically. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re already planning murder.”

Minho’s lips curve into a cold smile that doesn’t touch his eyes. “Oh, I’ll react. But not in front of her. Jisung would go full ‘big dramatic protector’ and freak her out. Me?” He taps his temple with a finger. “I fix problems at the root. Like a plucking a weed.”

Felix tilts his head, considering this. “So you’d break his nose?”

“Maybe a rib,” Minho muses, his tone conversational. “Depends on what he did.”

Felix exhales sharply, shaking his head, though the corner of his mouth twitches. “Fair enough. But is she okay? Like, actually okay?”

“Some days are better than others,” Minho admits, his voice softening slightly. “But her anxiety’s been worse lately.”

Felix leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If this assistant guy’s the reason break something for me, too. Preferably twice.”

Minho chuckles lowly, though the humour doesn’t reach his eyes. “Consider it done.”

Felix nods, his voice steady. “Alright. I’ll talk to her. It might take time, though. You know how she is about opening up.”

“I know,” Minho says, running his hand through his hair again. “But you’ve got that gentle-ass aura or whatever. She trusts you. Just ease into it. When she tells you, you tell me. Then I’ll take care of the rest.”

Felix nods again, his gaze firm. “You’ve got my word. I’ll handle it.”

Minho pushes off the door, clapping Felix lightly on the shoulder before heading for the door. He pauses with his hand on the handle, glancing back. “You’ve got her, right?”

Felix’s expression softens, his voice resolute. “Always. And you?”

Minho nods, his tone firm. “Always.” With that, he slips out of the room, his footsteps quiet as he heads back to yours, his mind already turning over what needs to be done.

For now, he’ll focus on making sure you feel safe. But the second he knows who’s responsible for the weight you’ve been carrying, he’ll make damn sure they regret it.

A few nights later, Minho's room is enveloped in a hushed stillness, the only sound the rhythmic rise and fall of Minho’s breathing as he sleeps beside you. His arm is tucked under the pillow, his body curled slightly toward you. For a moment, you watch him, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the restless storm in your own mind.

You let out a quiet sigh, your fingers brushing against the fidget cube resting on the nightstand. Careful not to disturb Minho, you slip out from under the covers. His oversized t-shirt falls to your mid-thigh, paired with his basketball shorts, your feet protected from the cool floor by your Ravenclaw socks.

Your movements are deliberate, your breath steadying as you take the fidget cube in one hand and tiptoe toward the door. You glance back at Minho one last time, his chest rising and falling with even breaths, before quietly pulling the door shut behind you.

The hallway is dark, save for the faint glow of a nightlight someone left plugged in near the stairs. You pad quietly toward the kitchen, the familiar creaks of the floorboards grounding you as you move. When you reach the kitchen, the faint hum of the refrigerator greets you, a soothing backdrop to the clicking of the fidget cube in your hands.

You set a mug on the counter, pulling the kettle from its base and filling it with water. You flick it on, the soft whoosh of heat filling the space as you reach for the box of chamomile tea. Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap the tea bag and drop it into the mug, but the repetitive motion of brewing steadies you. By the time the kettle clicks off, your breathing has evened, the warmth of the mug in your hands a comforting anchor.

As you turn toward the stairs, the faint glow from the living room catches your attention. Curious, you step closer and peek in. Felix is sprawled on the couch, one leg hanging over the edge as he leans forward, a controller in his hands. The faint sounds of gunfire and the hum of voices filter through his headset, blending into the quiet of the house.

He glances up as you approach, his face lighting up in recognition. He pulls off his headset, pausing the game. “Hey,” he greets, his voice soft but warm. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

Felix pats the cushion beside him. “Come sit. I’ve got tea if you want more.”

You smile faintly, lifting your own mug in response. “Already covered.”

“Smart girl,” he says with a grin. “Come on, sit down anyway. Let me ruin your night with my terrible gaming.”

His easy humour coaxes a small smile out of you as you settle onto the couch, tucking your legs underneath you. Felix leans back, draping one arm over the back of the couch, his posture casual but his gaze attentive. He studies you for a moment as you sip your tea, the faint steam rising in soft curls around your face.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?”

You shake your head, your gaze falling to the fidget cube in your lap. “No, just too much on my mind.”

Felix nods, his tone light but knowing. “You’ve been like this a lot lately. Wanna talk about it?”

You hesitate, your fingers fidgeting more rapidly with the cube. “It’s nothing. Just... stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” Felix raises a brow, his voice softening further. “Does this ‘stuff’ happen to involve a certain professor’s assistant?”

Your hands freeze, the cube stilling in your lap for just a second before your fingers start moving again. You don’t look at him, focusing instead on the swirling tea in your mug.

Felix leans forward slightly, his expression calm but serious. “Hey, no pressure. I just want to help. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

The words fall out before you can stop them, quiet and trembling. “He… he said something.”

Felix doesn’t move, doesn’t react, his gaze holding yours. “Okay,” he says softly, his voice encouraging. “What did he say?”

You bite your lip, your grip tightening on the cube. The words catch in your throat before you force them out. “He said if I- if I fucked him, he’d make sure I passed all my assignments.”

The confession hangs heavy in the air, the silence that follows almost deafening. You feel your chest tighten, your breathing uneven as you clutch the cube harder. “I didn’t know what to do,” you continue, your voice breaking. “I just- I left. I haven’t gone back to class since.”

Felix exhales slowly, his hand reaching out to rest lightly on your knee. His voice is calm, steady, but there’s an undercurrent of quiet anger. “That’s a lot. I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. That’s so fucked up.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, your grip trembling. “I felt so stupid. Like, I should’ve said something, but I just froze.”

“Hey,” Felix says firmly, leaning closer. “Stop that right now. None of this is your fault. That guy’s a fucking creep, and you did the smartest thing you could’ve done. You got out of there. That’s not stupid.”

His words make your chest ache, the tears spilling over despite your best efforts to hold them back. “I keep thinking, what if I see him? What if he’s in the hallway? I can’t even think about going back. I just-”

Felix cuts you off gently, his hand squeezing your knee. “You’re safe, okay? He can’t touch you here. And you’ve got Minho, Jisung, me, the whole fucking house. No one’s letting him near you.”

You sniffle, your breathing uneven as you lean into his words. Felix moves closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. His other hand rubs slow, comforting circles on your back.

“We’ll figure this out, alright?” he murmurs. “No one’s gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. And that guy? He’s gonna regret ever saying that to you. Trust me.”

A weak laugh escapes you, shaky but real, and Felix grins faintly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “There she is,” he says warmly. “Now, let’s finish that tea and get you back to bed. You deserve some rest.”

The late morning sun streams softly through the blinds in Minho’s room, painting the bed in streaks of pale light. The golden glow highlights the tousled strands of your hair spilling across the pillow, the curve of your shoulder peeking out from under the blanket.

You’re curled up, your body angled slightly toward the spot where Minho had been lying just a little while ago. Your breathing is steady but shallow. Not quite the deep rhythm of restful sleep.

Minho stands by the door, his hand resting lightly on the frame as he watches you for a moment. His sharp eyes take in the faint crease in your brow, the way your body shifts under the blankets as if even unconscious, you’re searching for some comfort.

He doesn’t need to ask if you slept badly. It’s written all over you, in the faint shadows under your eyes and the restless energy still clinging to you.

With a quiet sigh, he steps into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him with deliberate care. The faint click echoes softly in the stillness as he heads toward the kitchen, his mind already turning over what he can do to make your morning better.

In the kitchen, Minho moves with his usual precision. He grabs your favourite mug that he bought for you, the Corpse Bride one with the chipped handle you refuse to replace, and sets it on the counter beside his black cat mug.

As he measures out the coffee grounds, the rhythmic clink of the scoop against the machine’s edge fills the room. The aroma of fresh coffee begins to waft through the air as the machine hums to life, steam curling upward.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs pulls his attention. He glances over his shoulder to see Felix padding into the kitchen, barefoot and dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants. His hair is a little tousled, and there’s a slight pink tint to his cheeks, the telltale sign of someone who’s been awake for a while but not quite ready to face the day.

“Morning,” Felix says, his voice soft as he heads for the fridge. “You’re up early. Y/N still out?”

“Trying to sleep,” Minho replies, grabbing the creamer from the counter. “Didn’t have a great night, though.”

Felix pauses mid-reach, the fridge door cracked open, and turns to look at him. “Yeah, about that.” He closes the fridge door, leaning against it with crossed arms. “I know what happened.”

Minho freezes, his hand hovering over your mug, the creamer unopened. His head turns slightly, his expression carefully neutral. “When did she tell you?”

Felix’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Last night. She couldn’t sleep, came downstairs to make tea. We talked.”

Minho places the creamer down slowly, turning to fully face Felix. “What did she say?”

Felix exhales softly, his fingers drumming against his forearm. “She told me what that assistant said. Jae.” He pauses, watching Minho’s reaction. “He propositioned her. Said if she slept with him, he’d make sure she passed all her assignments.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Minho’s shoulders tense, his fingers curling into a loose fist before he forces them to relax. He doesn’t speak immediately, instead turning back to the counter. He picks up the creamer, pouring it into your mug with a steady hand as if the ritual of making coffee can anchor him.

“She told you that?” he asks finally, his voice low.

Felix nods, stepping closer to the counter. “Yeah. She was shaking when she said it. Sniffling, trying to hold it together. I didn’t push her. It just came out.”

Minho sets the creamer down again, reaching for the pumpkin spice syrup you love. He adds a careful amount to your mug, stirring it slowly with a spoon. The metallic clink against the ceramic is the only sound in the room for a few beats. When he finally speaks, his voice is tight but calm. “Are you going to tell her you told me?”

Felix studies him for a moment, noting the way Minho’s knuckles tighten slightly around the spoon before he sets it down. “Are you going to tell her that you know?”

“Not yet,” Minho says, his voice softening. “Once I've dealt with it, then I will. If I tell her before she might spiral”

Felix leans against the counter, his expression contemplative. “You’re scarily good at this boyfriend thing.”

“Practice,” Minho mutters, grabbing a napkin to wipe the rim of the mug. He looks up then, meeting Felix’s gaze. “Let me guess. You’re wondering if I’m planning to fight him.”

Felix raises an eyebrow, smirking faintly. “No, I’m assuming you’re planning to fight him.”

A humourless smile tugs at Minho’s lips. “I’m not going to fight him. Not yet. I’m going to have a quiet, friendly conversation with him. He’s going to quit, and when he does, I’ll tell her.”

“And his nose?” Felix asks, his voice light but his eyes sharp.

Minho’s smile turns cold, his tone conversational. “Oh, his nose is absolutely getting broken. A little incentive to stay away.”

Felix’s grin widens slightly, though his eyes remain dark. “Good. She’s been holding it in, Min. She’s worried, maybe her anxiety’s making her think you’ll blame her or something, but it’s really weighing on her.”

Minho exhales through his nose, his fingers tightening slightly around the handle of your mug. “I see it,” he admits quietly. “The way she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The way she keeps saying she’s fine, even when she’s not.” He pauses, his voice softening further. “She carries too much. Always trying to be invisible, not to bother anyone.”

Felix tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “She’s just like Jisung, you know? Same anxious brain. Same need to please everyone. You’re basically dating the female version of him.”

Minho lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he picks up the mug. “Thanks for that image. Really needed it.”

Felix smirks, crossing his arms again. “You’ve got this, though. Just be careful. Don’t make her feel like she’s not in control.”

“I know,” Minho says, his tone firm. “Thanks for telling me. I’ve got her.”

Felix watches him leave, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “I know you do,” he murmurs, the kitchen falling quiet again.

The journalism lecture hall empties slowly, students filing out with the shuffle of papers and muted conversations that fade into the hallway. The sound of the last student’s footsteps echoes faintly, the large room gradually falling into silence. Outside, Minho leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his face impassive but his eyes sharp and dangerous. 

A few students glance at him curiously as they leave, their expressions ranging from confused to wary, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. His focus is fixed entirely on the room and the man still inside it. As the door swings shut behind the last student, the faint click marks the beginning of what Minho has come to do.

Straightening, he steps inside with deliberate, measured strides, the sound of his boots on the polished floor echoing faintly in the quiet. The atmosphere in the lecture hall shifts immediately, the air thickening as if sensing the weight of his presence.

At the front of the room, Jae is bent over his desk, sorting through a stack of papers with a distracted expression. The sound of Minho’s approach draws his attention, and he looks up, his face neutral at first. But when he sees Minho, his brows furrow slightly, confusion flickering across his features.

“Can I help you?” 

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. He stops a few feet from Jae’s desk, his stance casual but his eyes locked on Jae’s with a piercing intensity. He tilts his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Jae, right? The professor’s assistant?”

Jae straightens slightly, frowning. “Yeah, that’s me. I don’t think I’ve seen you in the class. Are you-”

“Oh, I’m not in the class,” Minho interrupts smoothly, his voice cold and edged with quiet steel. “My girlfriend is, though. Y/N. The one you tried to blackmail into fucking you for a passing grade.”

Jae’s face drains of colour instantly, the papers in his hands falling to the desk with a soft rustle. His mouth opens and closes a few times, like a fish gasping for air. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammers, his voice faltering.

“Don’t,” Minho cuts in sharply, his tone dropping into something lethal. “Lie to me.”

Jae swallows hard, his hands twitching as they grip the edge of the desk. The flicker of panic in his eyes is unmistakable, but Minho’s unrelenting gaze holds him in place. After a tense beat, Minho jerks his chin toward the chair behind the desk.

“Me and you are gonna have a little talk,” he says, his voice steady but cold enough to freeze the air between them. “So sit down. Now.”

Jae hesitates, his eyes darting toward the door as though calculating his chances of escape. Minho doesn’t miss the movement. He takes a single step closer and slams his hand down on the desk with enough force to send the papers scattering to the floor.

“I said. Sit. The. Fuck. Down.”

The command sends a visible jolt through Jae, who stumbles backwards before nearly tripping into the chair. He sinks into it hastily, his movements frantic and uncoordinated, and looks up at Minho with wide, trembling eyes.

Minho’s hand lashes out suddenly, gripping the back of Jae’s head before slamming his face down against the desk with a sickening thud. The impact sends a burst of blood streaming from Jae’s nose, and he lets out a muffled cry of pain, his hands scrambling to push himself upright.

Before he can make another sound, Minho clamps a hand over his mouth, silencing him. “That,” Minho says evenly, his voice steady but laced with venom, “is for terrifying my girlfriend.”

Jae’s muffled whimpers grow louder, his tears mingling with the blood dripping onto the desk. Minho leans closer, his grip on Jae’s head tightening as his voice drops into a cold whisper.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You will quit as the professor’s assistant, and you will tell the professor exactly what you did. Every girl you’ve tried this shit with. Every word you said to Y/N. Because if you don’t, I swear to fucking God, you’ll never walk again. Are we clear?”

Jae nods frantically, his head jerking up and down against Minho’s hand as tears stream down his face. Minho’s eyes narrow as he grabs Jae’s nose, twisting it sharply enough to draw another strangled cry of pain. 

“Words, asshole,” Minho sneers, his voice cutting through Jae’s sobs like a blade.

“Yes!” Jae blurts, his voice trembling with desperation. “I’ll quit! I’ll tell him! I swear!”

Minho releases his grip abruptly, stepping back slightly as he watches Jae clutch his nose with trembling hands. Blood streams between Jae’s fingers, staining his shirt and dripping onto the papers scattered across the desk. Minho tilts his head, his expression unreadable as he studies the pitiful sight in front of him.

“Why her?” Minho asks suddenly, his voice quiet but cutting. “Because she’s quiet? Because she’s anxious? Is that why you thought you could pull this shit with her? Thought she'd be too scared to tell anyone?”

Jae doesn’t respond, but the panicked look in his eyes gives Minho all the confirmation he needs. Without warning, Minho slams Jae’s face against the desk again, the impact louder this time. Jae cries out, his voice muffled as blood pools on the desk beneath him.

“You made a mistake,” Minho says evenly, his tone almost conversational. “Because you upset her. And you know what happens when people upset my girlfriend?”

Jae whimpers, his body trembling as he clutches the edge of the desk. 

Minho leans closer, his voice dropping into a cold whisper. “When people upset her? Make her scared to go to class? Take advantage of their authority over her? I get pissed off. And when I get pissed off-” He trails off, gesturing to Jae’s bloodied face with a small, humourless smirk. “Well, let's just say this is me holding back.”

Jae sobs openly now, his hands shaking as he tries to stem the flow of blood. Minho tilts his head slightly, his gaze dark and unrelenting.

“You will never talk to her again,” he says, his voice quiet but resolute. “You won’t look at her, you won’t breathe near her. Because if you do, I won’t stop here. I’ll find Chan, Changbin, and Jisung. And trust me, they’ll be far less forgiving than I’ve been. The whole fucking frat house will come for you"

Jae lets out a strangled squeak, shaking his head frantically as Minho straightens. “And just so you know,” Minho adds, his tone turning icy, “the only reason you’re walking out of here today is because my girlfriend is too soft-hearted to want you hurt. But me? I don’t have that problem.”

Without waiting for a response, Minho wipes his hands on his jeans as if brushing off dirt, his movements calm and deliberate. He doesn’t spare Jae another glance as he turns on his heel and walks out of the lecture hall, the door swinging shut behind him with a decisive click.

The room falls silent again, save for Jae’s ragged breathing and muffled sobs, his blood pooling on the desk beneath him as he clutches his broken nose.

Minho steps into his room at the frat house, closing the door behind him with deliberate quiet. The air inside is warm and familiar, filled with the soft scent of lavender from the diffuser you insisted he get. You’re completely buried beneath his blankets, only a few strands of your hair spilling out over the pillow giving away your position.

He pauses in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watches you. The anger that had been burning hot in his chest earlier is still there, but now it simmers, dulled by the sight of you curled up and peaceful, your breathing steady and rhythmic. He exhales softly, letting the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly.

Walking over, he crouches by the bed, his movements careful and precise. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. His fingers linger there for a moment, his touch soft.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm. “I need to talk to you. Then you can go back to sleep.”

You stir slightly, your body shifting under the blankets. Your eyes flutter open, hazy with sleep, and you blink at him, your face scrunching up in that familiar way he finds so endearing. “Min?” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands.

“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s me,” he says gently. “Sit up for me, okay? Just for a little bit.”

You groan softly, a sleepy protest, but you push yourself up, the blankets pooling around your waist as you sit. Your hair is a mess, a halo of stray strands framing your face, and your cheeks are puffy from sleep. Despite everything, Minho thinks you look impossibly adorable.

“What’s going on?” you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Minho moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his expression serious but calm. He’s careful as he speaks, watching your reaction. “I spoke to Jae today,” he begins. “He told me what he did.”

The sleepiness in your eyes vanishes instantly, replaced by something sharp and anxious. You stiffen, your body going still. “Did you hurt him?” 

Minho tilts his head, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk. “I only broke his nose a little bit.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, you seem caught between shock and something else. Maybe relief, maybe disbelief. 

“He’s going to tell the professor what he did to you,” Minho continues, “and to any other girls he tried to pull this shit with. Your assignments will probably get regraded, and you’ll finally get the marks you deserve.”

You nod again, but you still won’t meet his eyes. Instead, your fingers find a loose thread on the blanket, picking at it restlessly. Minho watches you for a moment, his heart tightening in his chest. He stands briefly to grab your silicone pop-it from the desk, then sits back down and places it gently in your hands.

“Here,” he says softly. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, your fingers moving over the pop-it’s silicone bubbles in a steady rhythm. The soft popping sound fills the quiet, and your breathing begins to steady as you focus on the motion. Finally, you speak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I just- I felt gross,” you say, the words trembling. “I tried so hard on those assignments, Min. I put everything I had into them, and he didn’t even see that. He didn’t see my work. All he saw was my body.”

Your hands tighten around the pop-it, your fingers pressing harder against the bubbles. The sound feels louder now, punctuating the silence. “I didn’t even feel like a person,” you continue, your voice breaking slightly. “I felt like an object. Like that’s all I was to him. My intelligence didn’t matter. My hard work didn’t matter. All that mattered was if I’d fuck him to pass.”

Minho’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt. His gaze stays fixed on you, his hands clenched into loose fists in his lap as he fights the urge to let his anger show. This isn’t about him, it’s about you, and he needs to let you say everything you need to.

Your voice drops even lower, trembling with emotion. “And I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d think less of me. Which is stupid, I know, but-”

“It’s not stupid,” Minho interrupts gently, his tone firm but kind. “Baby, you have anxiety. I know you know I’d never think less of you, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for your brain to believe it. That’s not your fault.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you seem frozen. Then Minho shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his chest. His hand rubs soothing circles on your back as you continue fidgeting with the pop-it, the steady rhythm grounding you.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice soft. “It must’ve been so hard, keeping all that in. But you’re here, baby. You got through it.”

You hesitate for a beat, then admit quietly, “I told Felix.”

Minho keeps his expression neutral, pretending he doesn’t already know. “You did?”

You nod against his chest. “Yeah. He was so nice about it. He didn’t get mad, just comforted me.”

Minho smiles faintly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That was really brave of you, sweetheart. My brave girl. How did I get so lucky?”

You pull back slightly, your lips quirking into the tiniest of smiles. “You calmed me down at that awards night,” you say, your voice soft. “Told me I was beautiful. Jisung set me up on a date with Felix because he thought you’d just fuck me around, and then you showed up at my apartment after the date, and, well, now here we are.”

Minho chuckles, shaking his head. “Ah, yes. That’s how I got so lucky. I was so fucking pissed at Jisung for that, you know.”

You laugh softly, the sound quiet but genuine. “I remember. Jisung caught us kissing that night in my apartment, and he was so mad.”

Minho smirks, leaning closer. “And then you locked him in the living room so we could have sex in your room.”

Your giggle grows louder, and Minho grins, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “There she is,” he murmurs, his voice full of affection.

Minho shifts slightly, his weight sinking into the bed as he tilts your chin up with gentle fingers, guiding your gaze to meet his. His thumb brushes lightly over your jawline, the motion soothing, almost absentminded, as if his hand belongs there and nowhere else.

“Baby,” he starts, his voice low but steady, every word deliberate. “I need you to know something.”

You swallow hard, your hands pausing their rhythmic popping on the silicone toy in your lap. His tone is so certain, so resolute, that it demands your full attention. His thumb moves again, a tender stroke against your skin that feels grounding.

“I will never think less of you for anything,” he continues, his gaze boring into yours. “Not for your anxiety, not for being scared of something, none of it. Okay?”

Your throat tightens, and you try to blink back the sting in your eyes, but it’s no use. A tear slips out, trailing silently down your cheek. Minho’s hand moves immediately, his thumb brushing the tear away as if he’s wiping away more than just a drop of salt water, like he’s trying to erase the weight of your fears entirely.

“That shit doesn’t make you weak,” he says, his voice soft but fierce. “And it sure as hell doesn’t make me love you any less.”

You nod silently, your throat too tight to speak, but your eyes stay locked on his. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t rush you to respond. He just stays there, his hand cradling your cheek like you’re the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

Minho shifts closer, his voice dropping even lower, softer but no less firm. “I’m not gonna hold it against you for having fears or for assuming what I might feel. I get it, baby. Your brain runs a million miles a minute sometimes, and that’s okay. But all I ask-” He pauses, his thumb tracing slow circles on your cheek. “is that you ask me how I feel, okay? Could you do that for me, my silly girl?”

You nod again, finally finding your voice, though it’s small and trembling. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I need,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a faint, reassuring smile. His hand lingers on your cheek for a moment longer before he lets it drop, resting it lightly on your knee. “That’s all I’ll ever ask.”

You look down at the pop-it in your lap, your fingers resuming their soft, steady movements over the silicone bubbles. The gentle popping sound fills the quiet space between you, grounding you as you process his words. You take a deep, shaky breath, letting it out slowly, and when you glance back up at him, there’s a faint hint of playfulness in your tone.

“Did he cry?” you ask tentatively, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Minho’s smirk is instant and smug, his brows lifting slightly. “I think he might have pissed himself a little.”

The laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it, light and genuine. It catches you off guard, and the sound feels foreign after so much tension, but it’s freeing. Minho’s grin widens, clearly pleased with himself.

“I’m serious,” he says, his tone teasing but proud. “I’m scary.”

You giggle again, shaking your head. “I know. My scary guard dog.”

“Damn fucking straight,” Minho replies, puffing his chest out slightly in mock bravado. “Returning your food when the order’s wrong, fighting off creeps who think they have a chance with you, taking back tops when they’re the wrong size. I’ve got this shit down to a fine art. Honestly, Hyunjin should be jealous. I could pass his art history major for him, I’m that good. And let’s not forget, I’ve got better hair.”

You snort. “I don’t know about that,” you say, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Hyunjin’s hair is pretty majestic.”

Minho gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like you’ve just delivered a mortal wound. “Okay, fine,” he concedes with exaggerated flair. “Hyunjin’s hair is like a fucking Renaissance painting. But I’m prettier, right?”

You tilt your head, pretending to consider it, and Minho narrows his eyes at you in mock suspicion. “Well,” you draw out, your lips twitching. “You’re sexier. And scarier.”

Minho’s smirk returns in full force, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “Damn right, I am.”

You laugh again, this time louder, freer, the sound filling the room with a warmth that hadn’t been there before. Minho leans forward, his hand coming up to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there, brushing lightly against your cheek as he presses a kiss to your forehead. His lips are warm and firm, lingering just long enough to feel like a promise.

When he pulls back, his expression softens, the smugness melting into something gentler. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of affection. “I knew you had good taste.”

“I guess I do,” you reply quietly, your tone playful but sincere.

Minho leans back slightly, his hand sliding down to rest over yours. His fingers lace through yours easily, the pop-it still cradled in your other hand. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence between you filled only with the rhythmic popping of the toy and the soft hum of the world outside the window.

Then, Minho breaks the silence, his tone turning light again. “You know,” he says, his eyes narrowing playfully, “Jisung owes me a massive apology. For that date setup with Felix. Biggest cockblock of my life.”

You shake your head, your smile lingering as you glance down at your intertwined hands. The warmth of his touch, the steadiness of his presence, it feels like a lifeline, pulling you back to a place of safety.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper. “For everything. For being here. For listening.”

Minho squeezes your hand gently, his expression softening again. “Always, baby. You don’t have to thank me for that. It’s just what I do.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache, but this time it’s not from sadness. It’s from the overwhelming relief of knowing you’re not alone, of having someone who sees all of you, the messy, complicated parts, and chooses to stay anyway.

Minho shifts closer again, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes gazing into yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. “You’re mine,” he murmurs, the words a quiet vow. “And I protect what’s mine. Always.”

The evening air carries a crisp coolness, just enough to brush against your skin but not bite. The streets are alive with the hum of student life, clusters of laughter and chatter spill out of bars and restaurants, mixing with the occasional sound of a passing car. You walk arm-in-arm with Jisung, his boundless energy an anchor in the buzz of activity.

Your black leather flares swish with each step, the soft click of your black heeled boots echoing against the concrete. The strapless white tube top you’re wearing fits snugly, accentuating your silhouette, and the small white purse hanging from your shoulder ties the outfit together.

Jisung looks as effortlessly cool as ever. His black cargo trousers and white sneakers give him a laid-back edge, and the Eminem t-shirt beneath his black zip-up hoodie looks perfectly lived-in. His beanie is pulled low over his messy hair, the soft fabric framing his expressive face, while the silver chain around his neck catches the glow of the streetlights as he gestures animatedly. His free hand flails as he sidesteps a group of loud, tipsy students, pulling you closer to him.

“We’re two pretty best friends,” he announces suddenly, his voice brimming with exaggerated pride.

You laugh, leaning into his arm as your smile stretches wide. “We even have matching mental illnesses.”

“Exactly!” Jisung cheers, throwing his free hand up like he’s proclaiming your shared anxiety as a badge of honour. “Anxiety crew, represent!”

His exuberance draws a few amused glances from passersby, but you don’t care. His humour, his ease, it’s exactly what you need to shake off the heaviness of the week.

You tilt your head, glancing down at his outfit as you ask, “How come we’re all in black and white? Did you guys plan this?”

Jisung groans dramatically, his entire body exaggerating the motion as he throws his head back. “Hyunjin insisted,” he says, his tone dripping with faux exasperation. “Something about ‘aesthetic cohesion’ and ‘timeless elegance.’”

Your laugh bubbles up before you can stop it, the sound mixing with the steady rhythm of your boots clicking against the sidewalk. “That man loves a theme.”

“Loves it way too much,” Jisung mutters, though there’s no real bite in his tone. “You should’ve seen him lecturing Changbin about matching his belt to his shoes. Nearly gave the man an existential crisis.”

The two of you laugh together, the sound easy and light as you approach the bar. The familiar neon sign above the entrance glows a vibrant blue, its light spilling out onto the sidewalk. The steady thump of bass pulses from inside, vibrating faintly through the pavement, and the warm buzz of voices filters through the open doorway. Jisung holds the door open with an exaggerated flourish, bowing slightly as he gestures for you to enter.

The bar wraps around you in a wave of sound and warmth. The chatter of patrons, the clink of glasses, and the faint, rhythmic beat of music from the speakers create a lively symphony. The air smells faintly of citrus and beer, mingling with the aroma of wood from the polished tables and bar counter.

Your eyes scan the room, searching through the sea of faces until they land on a familiar booth near the back. It’s packed with your group. Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin are crammed together, their laughter carrying even over the din of the bar.

Drinks sit scattered across the table, condensation pooling around the bases of the glasses as everyone gestures animatedly, their hands cutting through the air in exaggerated motions as they talk.

Minho spots you first. His dark eyes light up immediately, and a slow, easy grin spreads across his face. His gaze locks on yours, his expression softening with something unspoken but undeniable.

Felix notices the shift in Minho’s face and nudges Changbin, who slides over to make room in the booth. Felix stands, waving enthusiastically, his signature bright smile beaming at you across the room.

“There’s our power duo!” Felix calls out, his voice carrying above the din.

You and Jisung weave through the crowd, dodging chairs and bodies with ease. When you finally reach the booth, Felix steps aside, his grin widening as he gestures toward the newly cleared space. “Ladies and gentlemen, the anxiety icons have arrived.”

You laugh as you slide into the booth beside Minho, with Jisung quickly claiming the space on your other side. The moment you’re settled, Minho’s arm drapes over your shoulders in a fluid motion, pulling you into his side. The warmth of his body against yours is immediate, his woodsy cologne wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“Hi,” you murmur, resting your head lightly against his shoulder. The noise of the bar fades slightly, muffled by the closeness of him.

“Hi, baby,” he replies, his voice low and smooth, the words sending a ripple of comfort through you. He slides a drink across the table toward you, a strawberry daiquiri with a tiny paper umbrella perched delicately on the rim.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you pick up the glass, the condensation cool against your fingers. You take a sip, the sweet tang of strawberries washing over your tongue, and you hum in satisfaction. “You know me too well.”

Minho smirks, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he presses a quick kiss to your temple. “Only the best for my girl.”

The conversation around the table continues, bursts of laughter and teasing filling the booth as the rest of the group dives into their drinks. Chan and Hyunjin are deep in a debate about the best way to pour a draft beer, their hands miming the action with exaggerated gestures. Jeongin and Seungmin watch with amused expressions, occasionally throwing in dry commentary that makes Changbin nearly choke on his drink.

But Minho’s attention never wavers from you. His fingers absentmindedly play with a strand of your hair, twirling it gently before letting it fall back into place.

His other hand rests on the table and you reach over, your fingers brushing against his as you begin to fidget with the cool metal bands. The motion is familiar, calming, and Minho’s lips twitch into a small smile at the gesture.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the noise of the bar. 

Your cheeks warm at the compliment, but you smile, your fingers still toying with his rings. “You’re biased.”

“Damn right, I am,” he replies without hesitation, his grin widening. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

You glance up at him, your smile softening as your eyes meet his. His arm tightens around your shoulders slightly, pulling you closer to his side.

Jisung’s voice cuts through the quiet bubble around you, pulling your attention back to the group. “Hey, are we playing darts or what? I’m ready to kick Changbin’s ass.”

“You couldn’t hit the board last time,” Changbin fires back, his grin mischievous.

“Details,” Jisung retorts, waving a dismissive hand. “This time, I’m fueled by friendship and alcohol.”

The group bursts into laughter, and Minho chuckles softly, his hand brushing over your shoulder. “You wanna play, baby?”

You shake your head, still nestled against him. “I think I’ll sit this one out. I’m pretty comfortable right here.”

Minho’s smirk returns, his voice dropping just slightly as he murmurs, “Can’t blame you. I’m an excellent pillow.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you tease, though the fondness in your tone gives you away.

He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Too late.”

The sound of the group heading toward the dartboards fills the booth, leaving you and Minho alone for a rare moment. His fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your face toward his, and his dark eyes search yours with a quiet intensity.

“I mean it,” he says softly, his tone earnest. “You’re stunning.”

Your heart flutters, and for a moment, you forget the noise of the bar entirely. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice almost lost in the hum of the room.

Minho smiles, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your lips which you happily reciprocate. When he pulls back, his smirk returns, lighter now but no less confident.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with affection. “Always the prettiest one in the room.”

The booth is alive with laughter, the warm glow of the bar's hanging lights casting everyone in soft hues of gold and amber. Drinks clink together as stories flow freely, the kind of energy that only exists when you’re surrounded by the people you trust most.

Felix is mid-story, his hands gesturing animatedly as he recounts one of Hyunjin’s failed attempts at “artistic photography.” Even Hyunjin can’t hold back his laughter as Felix mimics his exaggerated poses, their voices blending into the hum of the crowded bar.

You’re nestled against Minho’s side, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders, anchoring you in the lively chaos. His thumb rubs slow, absentminded circles against your upper arm, grounding you as your fingers toy with the cool metal of his rings. The weight of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing, is a constant comfort.

But then, cutting through the warmth of the moment like a shard of ice, comes the sound of loud, grating laughter. It’s obnoxious and overblown, the kind of noise that demands attention whether you want to give it or not. The entire booth turns instinctively toward the sound, and the moment your eyes land on the source, your stomach plummets.

Jae.

He’s standing near the bar with a group of equally rowdy friends, all of them leaning against each other and laughing too loudly, their voices slurred with the unmistakable edge of too much alcohol. His presence feels like a punch to the gut, and you freeze, your fingers stilling against Minho’s rings.

Felix notices immediately. His laughter cuts off mid-sentence, and his usual bright smile dims into something tight and unreadable. Minho, however, doesn’t even try to mask his reaction. His arm tightens around you, and his dark eyes narrow as they lock onto Jae with a sharpness that could cut through steel.

“Min,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the din of the bar. “Just enjoy the night, okay? Please?”

Minho’s jaw tenses, the muscle ticking as he takes a slow, deliberate breath. He doesn’t respond immediately, and you can feel the controlled anger radiating off him in waves. Before he can say anything, Jae’s voice cuts through the air like nails on a chalkboard.

“There she is!” he shouts, pointing at you, his words slurred but still sharp enough to carry across the bar. “The little slut that ruined my life!”

The world tilts slightly, your vision narrowing as the words hit you like a slap. The booth goes completely silent. The laughter and easy chatter are gone, replaced by a thick, oppressive stillness.

Jae stumbles forward slightly, his friends egging him on with jeers and smirks. “The one who has to send her big, bad football player boyfriend to save the day!” he sneers, his tone dripping with mockery.

Minho stiffens beside you, his grip on your shoulder tightening. His voice, when he speaks, is eerily calm, a quiet storm brewing just beneath the surface. “He’s dead,” he says simply, his tone flat.

Felix doesn’t hesitate. He pushes his drink aside, his movements deliberate as he rises to his feet. “Yup.”

Jae isn’t done, his voice rising above the ambient noise of the bar as he continues his tirade. “She just couldn’t keep her mouth shut or spread her legs! Too pious to fuck me for a better grade, and now look where it’s gotten me.”

The laughter from Jae’s group is harsh and grating, echoing across the room like a bad joke no one asked to hear. The implications of his words click into place for everyone at the booth.

Chan’s usually calm, composed demeanour cracks, his expression hardening into something cold and unyielding. Hyunjin’s jaw drops, disbelief and anger flashing across his face. Changbin’s hand clenches into a fist against the table, his knuckles whitening.

Jeongin and Seungmin's faces go as cold as ice and Jisung, seated beside you, vibrates with barely contained fury, his sharp gaze darting between you and Jae.

“Motherfucker,” Jisung mutters, his voice low but brimming with rage.

Minho doesn’t wait for Jae to speak again. He hops over the table in one fluid motion, his movements calm but with a predatory edge that makes the air feel heavier. Felix follows immediately, his expression grim, and Jisung is right on their heels, his hands already clenched into fists.

Chan curses under his breath, pushing his chair back as he stands. “This is about to turn into a fucking bar brawl,” he mutters, glancing at Seungmin. “Stay with Y/N.”

Seungmin nods, his expression unreadable as he shifts closer to you, sliding into the space Minho just vacated. The others follow the trio, their expressions a mix of anger and determination.

You sit frozen, your fingers trembling as they grip the edges of your purse. The familiar weight of your fidget cube presses against your palm, and you pull it out with shaky hands. The soft clicks and rotations offer a small measure of comfort, but your chest still feels tight, your breaths shallow and uneven.

You drain the rest of your strawberry daiquiri in one go, the sweetness doing little to settle your nerves. Without thinking, you reach for Felix’s abandoned pina colada and take a long sip, the chilled drink momentarily grounding you.

Seungmin’s arm wraps around your shoulders, his touch steady and reassuring. His presence, calm and unflinching, feels like a lifeline as you struggle to keep the panic at bay. He follows your gaze toward Jae, whose bandaged nose is a stark reminder of Minho’s earlier confrontation.

Seungmin’s lips quirk into a faint smirk. “Did Minho do that to his nose?”

You nod, your voice small as you murmur, “Yeah.”

Seungmin huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “He held back.”

The comment draws a weak chuckle from you, the sound shaky but real. Seungmin’s smirk widens slightly as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice dropping into a reassuring murmur. “They’ve got this. Jae doesn’t stand a fucking chance against Minho and Felix. And if the others gets involved?” He grins faintly. “Game over. I mean have you seen Chan's shoulders?"

The words settle over you like a blanket, offering a small measure of comfort. Jae leans against the bar like he owns the place, his arms crossed in mock confidence as he spots Minho approaching with the group behind him. His friends egg him on, their laughter obnoxiously loud as they slap him on the back, goading him with jeers and grins.

“Well, if it isn’t the boyfriend,” Jae sneers, his voice carrying over the bar’s thumping bass. His words are slurred, his bravado clearly fueled by the alcohol in his system. “Here to defend your little slut again?”

The temperature in the bar seems to drop. Minho stops just short of Jae, his hands hanging loose at his sides. His knuckles flex once, the tendons in his hands tightening as though preparing for action. His dark eyes bore into Jae with a calmness that’s far more dangerous than any shouting match could be.

Minho takes a slow, deliberate breath and his neck rolls lazily to one side, a quiet crack breaking through the tension. “You’ve got about three seconds,” he says, his voice low and measured, “to shut the fuck up.”

Before Jae can respond, a blur of motion cuts between them. Jisung surges forward, his fist swinging with everything he has. The impact lands square on Jae’s cheek, a sickening thud that reverberates through the room as Jae’s head snaps to the side. He stumbles against the bar, gripping the edge for balance.

“You fucking asshole!” Jisung snaps, shaking his hand out with a wince. “You don’t get to talk about her like that!”

Jae barely has time to recover before chaos erupts. His friends lurch forward, fists flying wildly, but Chan, Changbin, Felix, Hyunjin, Minho, and Jeongin are faster. The music fades into the background, drowned out by shouts, curses, and the sound of bodies colliding.

Felix moves with a precision that’s almost clinical, his taekwondo training evident in the sharpness of his kicks and punches. One of Jae’s friends lunges at him, but Felix sidesteps effortlessly, delivering a swift kick to the guy’s ribs that sends him sprawling.

“I always forget Felix did taekwondo for like ten years,” Seungmin mutters, his arm steady around your shoulders.

“Twelve,” you correct automatically, your voice shaky but steady as your fingers work furiously at the fidget cube in your lap. The rhythmic clicks and rotations offer a small anchor against the chaos.

Seungmin smirks faintly, sliding a forgotten glass of Sex on the Beach toward you. “Here. Looks like you need this more than Jeongin does.”

You nod, grateful, and take a long sip. The sweetness of the drink calms your nerves slightly, but your gaze remains fixed on the fight unfolding before you. Minho is a force of nature, calm, controlled, and devastatingly efficient. He moves through the fray with a predator’s grace, every punch deliberate and unrelenting.

When one of Jae’s friends tries to grab him from behind, Minho twists effortlessly, slamming an elbow into the guy’s stomach before throwing him into a nearby table.

Hyunjin and Jeongin work in tandem, their usual playful energy transformed into something almost terrifying. Hyunjin distracts one of Jae’s friends with feints and jabs, giving Jeongin the opening to sweep the guy’s legs out from under him. The two share a brief smirk before turning to face the next opponent.

Chan and Changbin are unrelenting, their punches landing with a precision that speaks to years of dealing with troublemakers. One of Jae’s friends charges at Chan, but Chan steps aside at the last moment, letting the guy crash into a table. Changbin follows up with a solid punch to the guy’s jaw, sending him crumpling to the floor.

Jae tries to regain his footing, his face twisted in rage as he lunges at Minho. But Minho is faster. He grabs Jae by the hair, yanking his head back before slamming his face against the edge of the bar. The impact is brutal, the sound of bone meeting wood audible even over the music.

“Enough!” the bartender shouts, slamming his hand on the counter. His voice cuts through the noise like a whip. “Take this shit outside, or I’m calling the cops!”

Minho straightens slowly, releasing Jae, who collapses to the floor in a heap. Blood drips from his already broken nose, staining the floor beneath him as he groans in pain.

Minho doesn’t spare him another glance, his focus shifting as he turns and walks back toward you with a calmness that’s almost eerie. His chest heaves slightly, his adrenaline still running high, but the moment his eyes meet yours, his expression softens.

He holds out his hand, his voice steady but still tinged with adrenaline. “Come on, baby.”

You set the empty glass down, your fingers trembling slightly as you slip your hand into his. His grip is warm, solid, and grounding, and the tension in your chest begins to ease. Minho helps you out of the booth, keeping you close as he leads you toward the exit. The others begin to follow, Chan calling out as they regroup.

“Let’s head back to the frat,” Chan says, his voice firm as he wipes at a smudge of blood on his knuckles.

The group murmurs their agreement, Felix throwing one last disdainful glance at Jae, who is still groaning on the floor. “Yeah, let’s go,” Felix mutters, shaking out his wrists.

As the group moves toward the door, Minho slows his pace deliberately. Just before stepping outside, he pauses, his eyes cutting down to Jae’s hand, which is splayed weakly on the floor.

Without missing a beat, Minho steps on it with all his weight. The sickening crunch of bone is faint over the music, but Jae’s howl of pain cuts through the room like a blade.

Minho doesn’t look down as he continues walking. His hand tightens slightly around yours, his focus already back on you. The cool night air greets you as you step outside, washing over your heated skin and easing some of the tension from your body. The faint hum of distant traffic mixes with the muffled bass from the bar, the world outside feeling calmer, quieter.

You glance up at Minho as the group starts making their way back toward the frat house. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you closer to his side as you walk. His presence is steady and reassuring, and for the first time since the night began, you feel like you can finally breathe.

“Feel better?” you ask quietly, your voice hesitant.

Minho smirks faintly, his dark eyes glinting in the streetlights. “Not yet,” he admits, his tone low. His arm tightens around you slightly as he adds, “But I will. Once we’re home.”

The frat house is alive with energy as the group spills inside, their voices bouncing off the walls, fueled by adrenaline and a few drinks too many. Everyone heads straight for the kitchen, where Chan takes command like a seasoned general, throwing open cabinets and yanking out bottles.

You lean against the counter, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You bend down, tugging at the zippers on your heeled boots, muttering under your breath when one gets stuck.

Minho, mid-pour with a bottle of vodka in hand, glances at you. His eyes catch on the sight of your Bambi socks, the design peeking out as your boots come off. He snorts, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, the words laced with affection.

You look up, holding one boot in your hand as you stick your tongue out at him. “And you love it.”

“I do,” he says, shaking his head with mock exasperation as he pours pineapple juice into your glass. “Heavy on the vodka, right?”

“Always,” you reply, your lips twitching into a small smile.

Before you can settle, Jisung is suddenly in front of you, his expression unusually serious as he wraps his arms around you in a warm, slightly desperate hug. The smell of his cologne mingles with the faint scent of booze clinging to his hoodie. You melt into him, your hands clutching at the soft fabric of his hoodie as he presses his cheek against yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug, your face still buried in his shoulder. “I didn’t want to make it a big deal,” you mumble, the words muffled against him.

Jisung sighs, the sound heavy with frustration and concern. “It is a big deal. You’re my best friend. I’m supposed to know this shit.”

You don’t respond, your fingers tightening slightly against his shirt. The weight of the night threatens to creep back in, but the comfort of Jisung’s hug and the chatter around you keeps it at bay.

Minho slides a glass across the counter toward you, the condensation forming small droplets that glisten under the overhead lights. “Here,” Minho says, his voice soft but firm. “Drink.”

You smile faintly, your free hand reaching for the glass. The first sip is cold and sweet, the tang of pineapple cutting through the vodka, and you hum in satisfaction. Minho’s lips twitch into a satisfied smirk as he leans against the counter, watching you.

Chan, standing nearby with his arms crossed, tilts his head as he studies your face. “You alright?”

You glance at him, nodding. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Chan uncrosses his arms, pulling you into a brief but firm side hug. His grip is strong and reassuring, and when he lets go, he places a hand on your shoulder. “Good,” he says simply. “You know this whole house has your back, right? Every one of us.”

“Yeah, I know,” you reply, your voice soft but genuine.

“Damn right we do,” Felix chimes in from the island, raising his glass of rum and coke in a toast. His grin is bright, the kind that could lighten even the darkest mood. “We need our two anxious mascots in tip-top shape.”

Jisung looks at Felix with furrowed brows. “Who’s the second one?”

Minho raises an eyebrow at him, his voice dry. “You, dumbass.”

Jisung blinks once, then twice, before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, makes sense.”

Felix’s laughter is the first to break, and the rest of the room follows, the sound rippling through the kitchen like waves. Minho pours himself a glass of whiskey and coke, the ratios leaning heavily in favour of the whiskey.

He moves behind you, his arm snaking across your chest to pull you gently back against him. The comforting weight of his presence settles over you, and you let yourself lean into him, your head resting against his chest.

“The cube helping you, baby?” he murmurs, his lips close to your ear, the low timbre of his voice sending a wave of calm through you.

You nod, your fingers clicking the toy’s buttons rhythmically. “Yeah. It’s helping.”

Jisung bounds toward the speaker in the corner, pulling out his phone with the dramatic flair of someone announcing their magnum opus. “We need music!” he declares, his fingers flying over the screen.

The opening beats of Hey Daddy by Usher fill the kitchen, the smooth rhythm instantly lightens the atmosphere.

You giggle, sipping your drink as the guys start bopping along to the music. Hyunjin pulls Felix into an impromptu dance, their movements overly dramatic as they spin and pose like they’re auditioning for a music video. Jeongin laughs so hard he nearly spills his drink, and Chan claps along, his grin wide.

Minho keeps his arm snug around you, his free hand resting lightly on your waist. His thumb traces small, lazy circles against your side, his touch grounding. He leans in closer, his voice a quiet murmur against your ear. “You always smell like mango and passion fruit.”

“It’s my shampoo, conditioner, body spray. Everything, really,” you reply with a small laugh, glancing up at him.

“I love it,” Minho says simply, his tone sincere. “And I love you.”

His lips press a kiss to the crown of your head, lingering for a moment. You smile, your fingers tightening around the glass in your hand as you tilt your head back to look at him.

“I love you too,”

Across the kitchen, Chan raises his glass, his voice cutting through the music. “Alright, let’s get super fucked up!”

“And talk about how ugly Jae and his friends are, right?” Felix adds, his grin mischievous as he looks to you for confirmation.

You nod, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “Right.”

Felix leans forward, clinking his glass against yours with a wink. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Seungmin, perched on a stool nearby, takes a sip of his drink before adding dryly, “Jae gives off major bitchless energy.”

Hyunjin nods enthusiastically, his voice light and playful. “Very demure. Very ‘I don’t get any pussy.’”

The night winds down into a comfortable haze, the once-lively frat kitchen now littered with half-empty bottles, abandoned cups, and the remnants of snacks scattered across the counters.

The music is still playing, though quieter now, and the energy in the house has shifted. Laughter is softer, conversations slower, the kind of relaxed vibe that follows a night of good drinks and better company.

Minho’s arm stays firmly around your waist, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your side. His touch is steady, grounding, a quiet promise of safety even as the chaos of the evening fizzles into a low hum. He leans down, his breath brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Come on, baby. Let’s head upstairs.”

You nod, leaning into him for a moment before he gently guides you toward the hallway. His hand rests lightly on your back, steering you past the remnants of the night.

Jisung is sprawled across the couch in the living room, one arm draped dramatically over his face, muttering something about how Seungmin stole his drink.

Felix, meanwhile, is perched on the coffee table, dramatically belting out the chorus of whatever song is playing, much to the delight of Changbin and Hyunjin, who are egging him on.

Minho chuckles softly as he watches them, shaking his head in amusement before nudging you forward. “Come on, before they rope us into Felix’s karaoke session.”

The climb up the stairs is slower than usual, your legs a little unsteady from the drinks and the lingering adrenaline of the night. Minho keeps a firm hold on you, his hand brushing lightly against your back every few steps as though to remind you he’s there.

You step inside his room, the door clicking shut softly behind you. The room is dimly lit, the warm glow of Minho’s desk lamp casting soft, golden shadows across the walls.

Minho leans back against the door, his eyes fixed on you as you reach for the zipper of your leather flares. The tight material peels away slowly, revealing the long expanse of your legs and your white panties. You pull your top over your head revealing your strapless white bra as you toss the top onto the chair in the corner of the room.

Minho stays where he is, watching you with a look that’s equal parts admiration and hunger. His gaze roams over you, taking in every curve, every line, with a reverence that makes your cheeks warm. His voice is low and rough when he finally speaks. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You glance at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you coming to bed?”

He smirks, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that way that always makes your stomach flutter. “Demanding, aren’t we?”

“Always,” you reply, sliding under the cool blankets and settling into the soft mattress.

You watch as Minho pulls his hoodie over his head, revealing the lean lines of his torso. He tosses it aside, then shucks off his cargos with the same ease, leaving him in just his boxers.

When he joins you under the blankets, the warmth of his body seeps into yours immediately. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your back is pressed against his chest. His chin rests lightly on the top of your head, and you sigh softly, the tension in your body melting away.

For a while, the room is quiet, the distant hum of voices and music downstairs fading into the background. Minho breaks the silence first, his voice low and steady. “I don’t think he’ll bother you again.”

You hum in agreement, your head turning slightly so you can glance up at him. “I think bouncing his head off a bar and crushing his hand might have been enough of a deterrent.”

“You think so, huh?”

“Yeah,” you reply, your lips curving into a faint smile. “I think he got the message loud and clear.”

Minho shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at you properly. His dark hair falls across his forehead, and his expression softens as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek. “I’d kill for you, baby. You need to know that.”

The sincerity in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is unwavering, his thumb tracing small circles on your cheek as he continues. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe. Absolutely nothing.”

Your breath catches, your chest tightening at the weight of his words. There’s no hesitation, no doubt in his tone, and the intensity of his conviction makes your eyes sting.

You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing over the cool metal of the rings still on his fingers. The familiar motion of twisting them grounds you.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I know, Min.”

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s soft but full of emotion. It’s not rushed, not hungry, it’s steady and sure, a quiet vow in the way he holds you. When he pulls back, his eyes search yours, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “I mean it, you know. You’re everything to me.”

You nod, your fingers still toying with his rings. “And you’re everything to me.”

The words hang in the air between you, unspoken truths finally laid bare. Minho presses a kiss to your forehead before settling back down, his arms wrapping securely around you. You rest your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt all night.

Downstairs, the faint sound of Felix’s laughter drifts up the stairs, followed by Jisung’s voice dramatically proclaiming something about being the world’s best singer. You smile against Minho’s chest, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Home,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sleep.

Minho’s arms tighten around you slightly, his lips brushing against your hair. “Home,” he echoes, his voice full of quiet certainty. “Right here.”

Got carried away with the word count but protective men do something to me. A week of writing and rewriting and forcing my boyfriend to proof read and it's here!

[storytowrite]

|You will always be mine ~ Lee Minho series|

PART 15

Paring: Minho x Y/N

Genre: smut, angst, university au

Word count: 2990

Warnings: sex, 18+, Minho is a psycho, dom!Minho, sub!reader, abuse, slight BDSM, kidnapping, violence, age gap, Minho is an university professor, Y/N can be hurt physically (and mentally too I guess).

Synopsis: Who knew that accidental fuck in the club bathroom with a handsome man will bring you to a lot of unexpected events.

Author's note: I kept this series for a really long time not sure if I want to post it or not, but I decided to do it anyway, so I hope you'll like it.

——————————

The trip lasted about two hours. Throughout this time, you were strapped down and immobilized in the passenger seat, while Minho was focused on the road. Although your body felt excitement, you began to have some concerns. You weren't sure what to expect from the man who had actually kidnapped you. And he did it with your consent, after all, you got into his car yourself.

“We've arrived, kitten.” Minho's voice suddenly broke the silence that had prevailed the entire way. 

“Where are we?” You asked, rubbing your wrists as the man untied your hands. You sat up slowly and looked out the window. 

Minho had stopped the car in a nice courtyard right in front of a fairly large wooden house. There was nothing around except the forest that surrounded the whole area. You trembled slightly. You liked it less and less. 

“You'll be safe here.” Minho said and got out of the car, then opened the passenger door and shook your hand.” Come in, I'll show you your new home.” He smiled broadly at you. 

“Wh-what? No, Minho don't joke around like that, okay? It's not much fun... I want to go home.” You said, looking around panicked. 

“As I told you, here is your new home, kitten. With me. Come on. Get out and do what I say before I run out of patience.” He said firmly. 

You obediently got out of the vehicle, trembling slightly in fear. You looked at him uncertainly not knowing what to expect. Minho turned around and started toward the house. You sighed heavily and moved after him. You knew that until you figured out some way to get away from him, you would have to play along as he told you to. 

As you crossed the threshold of the house, you swallowed your saliva loudly. The interior of the house was upholstered in light wood, contrasted by black furniture with gold accessories. It definitely did not look like an ordinary cabin in the woods. Until you were stunned. You stopped in the middle of the spacious living room looking around the room.

“Do you like it?” Minho asked, but didn't expect an answer. “Hungry? I'll make dinner.” 

“Minho... where do you get the money for all this? It's like you're an ordinary lecturer...” You started but he interrupted you in mid-sentence. 

“I invited you to my house, and all you think about is money, kitten?” He asked disapprovingly and stammered. “You shouldn't ask such questions. It's not nice to ask how much or where someone has money, you know?”

“Sorry.” You replied, quickly lowering your head and sticking your gaze into your shoes. 

“But...” He walked over to you and with his index finger lifted your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. “I wouldn't know how to be angry with you, kitten, you know? I'll answer your question. In addition to teaching at the university, I'm involved in, um... how shall I say it? Ah yes! You could say I'm a collector of sorts.” He smiled at you and leaned gently over you. “And I collect not only beautiful objects.” He whispered in your ear, and ran your lips gently over his petal, at which you quietly sighed. “I collect many things. And you, you are my most important trophy.”

“I am not an object.” You said, and your voice trembled softly. You stepped back slightly while watching him. You took a few steps back, but Minho walked slowly toward you, smiling nonchalantly.

Your back encountered an obstacle - a glass door leading to the garden. You felt their coldness on your body and immediately winced. You wanted to take half a step forward, but Minho was already leaning over you. His hands were on both sides of your head. Even though the height difference between you was small, you felt really small.

Minho smiled at you slightly. He knew exactly what you must be feeling. He was enjoying this moment. He liked the emotions he was causing in you. He saw a mixture of excitement and fear in your eyes. And even if you denied it, he was definitely aware of the effect he was having on you.

"What are you going to do with me now?" You asked quietly. You knew there was no chance of escape. You looked into his eyes, which cost you a lot. Fear slowly began to take over your body.

"I'll rape you and kill you." He whispered in your ear and kissed you gently on the cheek, then pulled away with a quiet laugh. “I already told you, kitten, I won’t hurt you. You’re important to me.”

“Important people don’t get taken out into the middle of the forest against their will!” You suddenly shouted in a surge of adrenaline, and your voice was full of conflicting emotions.

“You can scream as much as you want, kitten. No one will hear you here anyway.” Minho shrugged. “You’re safe here… And only with me. Just as it should be. I already told you, you don’t need anyone but me.”

“I’m not your fucking property!” Anger began to take hold of you. “I want to go home! You’re fucked up!”

“Hm…” Minho tilted his head slightly, looking at you. “No.” He replied shortly. “Although you’re right, you’re not a thing. But you belong to me and nothing will change that, kitten. We’ll always be together, you know?” He pushed the unruly locks behind your ear. “And you can resist as much as you want, but it won’t change anything.”

“I want. To. Go. Home.” You insisted, your anger growing weaker and weaker.

“And I want a star from the sky! We all want something Y/N. I already told you, this is your home. Why aren't you even listening to me, huh? You’re mine now. My most important trophy that I have to protect!” His voice was getting more and more nervous.

“Protect? What the fuck are you trying to protect me from, huh? The only person I need protection from is you! You fucking kidnapped me! And you took me to god knows where!” You growled.

“I didn't force you to do anything, kitten. You got in my car of your own free will. I said I'd take you home. I didn't say whose. You didn't ask anyway." He replied calmly and shrugged.

"I didn't even think you wouldn't take me to my apartment Minho! You're some kind of a fucking psychopath!"

"Call me whatever you want kitten, after all you didn't specify what you wanted, not me." He replied nonchalantly. "You're probably hungry, huh? If you weren't you wouldn't be screaming like that. Eh... Sit down in the living room or explore the house. You won't get very far anyway. Oh and one more thing..." He pulled your phone out of your pants pocket. "You won't need this anymore." He winked at you, then broke the device in half, threw it on the floor and stomped on it.

You looked at the remains of your phone. Tears welled up in your eyes. You knelt on the floor and started to pick up what was left of the device. You felt bad. Lee Minho, the man you met a few months ago in the club turned out to be a completely different person than you imagined. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye as he bustled around the kitchen. You were afraid of him and at the same time you felt the hopelessness of the whole situation. Alone with HIM in the forest. Without a phone. Without the possibility of contact with anyone close to you. You didn't know what to do with yourself, or what awaited you. Only Minho knew what he would do to you. And that was what you feared the most.

Minho, on the other hand, was pleased with himself. He knew that you were afraid of him and he understood you to some extent. In your place, he would probably be distrustful too. However, he didn't care that much about what you felt. The only thing that mattered was that you were with him. He wanted to keep you as close to him as possible and forever, and he knew that he would do everything to fulfill that desire.

"Dinner's ready." He said, placing a warm meal on the table. He glanced at you, still kneeling on the floor over the broken phone. “Y/N, come on, it's getting cold.”

But you didn't react to his call. You stared at the shattered device and tried to think of a way to escape.

“Hello, earth to Y/N!” Minho approached you. “I said dinner's ready. Come on in. Before I start getting nasty.”

“I'm not hungry.” You mumbled. “I want to go home, please.”

“I already told you this kitten, why don't you listen to me? You're home. Your home is where I am. Now I invite you politely to the table.” He said in a tone that didn't tolerate any argument, staring at you. You swallowed hard but followed his command. You sat down at the table and took a fork in your hand. “Enjoy.”

You started eating. Although you had no appetite, you ate what Minho gave you because you were afraid of his reaction if you accidentally disobeyed him.

“I'll show you around the house after dinner.” Minho suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.

“Okay…” You nodded. You knew that for now you had no choice and had to do what Minho told you. Otherwise it could end badly for you. You quickly ate your meal. Minho put the dirty dishes in the sink and walked over to you.

“Come on.” He said shortly and headed towards the stairs.

The house you were in had two floors. Downstairs there was a huge kitchen in a modern design, connected to the living room and dining room, all in an open space. In the living room there was a huge, black, leather couch, similar to the one Minho had in his apartment in the city center. There was a large TV hanging on the wall, and right next to it was a door leading to the garden.

The upper floor was decorated in a similar way to the living room. Upstairs there were four bedrooms and a study, which Minho immediately forbade you from entering. Each bedroom had a bathroom with a shower. In the master bedroom, apart from a huge bed with black satin sheets, there was a spacious wardrobe. In the bathroom, apart from the glass shower, there was a deep bathtub in the middle. On the counter against one of the walls were two sinks and a lot of cosmetics.

You hadn't noticed before that both the wardrobe and the bathroom were fully equipped. It looked as if Minho had been planning your move to this house for a long time. However, you didn't dare to ask him about it. You were afraid of what kind of answer you might get.

When you had already walked around the entire apartment, you went back down to the living room, Minho sat down on the leather couch and looked at you. His attitude was extremely nonchalant. Two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned from the top. Even though you were afraid of Minho, you had to admit that his attitude and appearance impressed you.

“Okay, kitten.” He began, looking at you standing in front of him. “We need to establish some rules in this house. First, you have to listen to me. You are not allowed to go into the study upstairs and you are not allowed to leave the house. Besides, even if you tried, you will not succeed. There is nothing around, there is only the forest. Second, you can of course walk around the house and garden, but the garage is off limits to you. And third and most importantly, from today you belong to me. If I decide that you are a good enough girl, I will get you a phone… maybe you will get a computer in some time.”

“And what am I supposed to do here?” You asked, annoyed. “Wait for you like a faithful dog? You are psychotic! I want to go back to my apartment!”

“Kitten, apart from me you have nothing. This is your apartment now, whether you like it or not.” He replied calmly.

“You can't keep me here for the rest of my life. What about my studies? What about my family? And friends? They'll be looking for me!"

"And they'll find a dead body. It will be so massacred that they won't even think it could be anyone else." He replied unfazed, making you shiver. “Kitten, I've already arranged everything. You don't have to worry about anything. Your loved ones, well... they'll forget about you quickly. And as for your studies. What do you need them for when I'm your professor anyway? You're homeschooled."

"That's not how it works, Minho. I need to have contact with others. I can't sit around and do nothing all my life because that's what you want. And what if you get bored with me? Will you get rid of me like you did with Rheena?"

"Rheena, ah yes... Well, luckily you're not Rheena. Your luck, of course." He winked at you. "Rheena deserved what happened to her. But you don't have to worry, kitty, I won't hurt you, which I think I've already mentioned. You have a really bad memory and you don't listen to what I say... I think I'll have to teach you some lessons."

"I don't think I need your lessons. I don't know what sick game you're playing, but that's not right, Minho. Please, let me out and let's forget about this, okay? I won't tell anyone, I promise you." You didn't give up.

"Hm... no. I won't believe any of your promises, kitten. Besides, you already gave me up to the police once, right? I don't want it to happen again. Now, come to me."

You swallowed hard, but approached the man. For now, you decided to follow his orders and in the meantime figure out a way to escape. Minho looked you in the eye and pulled you onto him. You landed on his lap.

"Perfect." He smiled slightly. "Like I said... I have to teach you a lesson." He added and suddenly put you on his lap.

"Minho, what are you doing?" You asked, surprised.

“I’m teaching you how not to behave. Any disobedience will be punished.” His hand landed with a force on your right buttock. You let out a surprised cry. You didn’t have time to say anything when you were hit in the other buttock.

Minho gave five hard slaps on both of your buttocks. With each subsequent one you let out louder and louder cries. You didn't want to admit it, but the man's slaps caused a slight arousal.

Lee Know knew it perfectly well. He knew your body better than his own. He knew what he had to do to arouse you, without too much effort. And that was what he wanted. He gently massaged your buttocks, then moved his hand between your thighs, at which you let out a quiet sigh.

He began to rub your sensitive spot through the material of your shorts. Your breathing quickened, the more pressure he put on. You began to moan quietly. Minho took his time. He relished your voice. He began to gently make circles, then pressed lightly on your shell, making you moan even louder.

He felt the material of your pants getting wetter and wetter. He smiled slightly to himself. He laid you down on the couch and stood over you. He took off your pants and panties, and then looking you straight in the eye, he inserted a finger into you, which he began to gently move. All flushed, you began to writhe under him and sigh louder and louder. Minho watched your reaction carefully. After a moment, he added another finger, and pressed his thumb on your button. In response to the sudden stimulation, you moaned loudly. Minho didn't take his eyes off you.

Your lips were parted and your eyes were half-closed. You were all flushed and you were letting out louder and louder moans of pleasure. Minho was proud of himself, he almost brought you to the peak. However, as soon as he noticed that your orgasm was approaching with great strides, he stopped all movements. He pulled his fingers out of you and licked them, watching with a slightly mocking smile as irritation appeared on your face.

"You're cute, you know that?" He asked, slightly amused.

"Why?" You asked, surprised and irritated. “Minho, I was close.”

“I know, kitty.” He smiled. “But you haven’t been a good kitten lately.”

“But I was close… I can handle it myself.” You were already reaching out to finish what Minho didn’t want.

“Oh, you’re not allowed.” He grabbed your wrist tightly. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself without my permission, is that clear? Be good and you’ll get what you want, okay?” Saying that, he pierced you with his cold gaze that always made goosebumps rise on your body.

“Y-yes…” You agreed and looked away.

“Great, kitten.” Minho smiled widely. “Now, go take a shower. It’s been a long day, don’t you think?”

“O-okay.” You listened to the man and went to the shower, where you were lost in thought.

Maybe it won’t be so bad? You thought, standing under the stream of warm water. You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but you missed his touch, but the thought of it made you very uneasy. Your mind was saying one thing, and your heart was telling you something else. You weren't sure if you really wanted to run away from him. And that was what you feared the most.

——————————

<- Part 14 | Part 16->

-> Series Masterlist

Taglist: @yaorzu-blog, @iovecb97, @hpnsfwaddict, @syedazarintasnim, @palindrome969, @biujulia @inlovewithstraykids

[dreaming-medium]

Language Barrier

Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count: 7K

Tags: fluff, first meeting, first kiss, strangers to lovers

Summary: When the power goes out while you’re in an ATM vestibule, you come to realize you’re stuck inside until the police come to open the door. But there’s one problem, you don’t speak a lick of Korean, and the man inside doesn’t seem to speak an ounce of English.

———

A/N: Please note that sentences that are Italicized are meant to be in Korean and sentences that are regular text are in English.

‘How are you?’ - English

‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ - Korean

—————————————————————————

Luck was not on your side today.

It’s not like you’re an unlucky person as a whole, no, that’s not it. Today was just one of those days that when you say ‘How could this get any worse?’, the universe takes it as a challenge.

Perhaps you should’ve just kept your mouth shut after you spilled coffee on your blouse this morning. But, you’ve always been such a ‘glass-half-full’ sort of person that you tried to take every inconvenience in stride. Everyone has their limit, though.

Before you came here on a business trip, you had heard about the Korean Monsoon season.

Everyone and their mother told you about how much it would pour, how it would feel like the skies suddenly opened up. But, you didn’t take anyone’s warning seriously. You would wave them off with a scoff.

“It’s just rain,” you thought. “How bad could it be?”

You’re eating those words now as you run through the streets in your nice, newly-soaked, professional heels. Your slacks are sticking to your legs, making the fabric ten times heavier. With your bag held over your head, you look around frantically for the bank.

It doesn’t help that it’s close to 10 PM and visibility is already horrible at this time. Yes, you should have gone earlier, but you were distracted!

Where is it? Where is it?

There!

You spot the glass doors and practically sprint up to them, grab the handle, and rip the door open.

A giant sigh of relief comes out of your lips as you step inside the tiny vestibule.

The only other man inside the place jumps a bit at your noise. He glances over his shoulder at you, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing at the ATM. You pay him no mind as you shake the rainwater off of your bag.

It’s after hours at the bank, meaning the only thing open and available is one ATM inside the room between the bank itself and the streets of Seoul.

Soft beeping comes from the ATM as the other man presses a few buttons. There’s an umbrella on the floor at his feet.

After brushing the water off your jacket, you bring your bag in front of you and start fishing out your card. Countless items inside your bag are now completely soaked.

Ugh, there goes all those business cards you collected at the meeting. Most of the ink is bleeding off the cardstock. Maybe, if you try really hard, you can make out the phone numbers on the cards.

Is that a 6 or an 8?

Or maybe the email addresses will be easier to understand. Surely, it just their names and their company’s–

There’s a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder at the same time the lights in the ATM vestibule flicker and go out completely.

You fight the yelp that bubbles in your throat. The man in front of you seems to lose the fight against his reactions and lets out a tiny yip.

His shoulders come up and he seems to bristle like a cat.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble, looking up at the lights. It was almost pitch black inside now, save for the tiny emergency lights that kick on on either side of the glowing Exit sign.

The man lets out a grumble and a sigh.

You look over and see that the ATM has completely shut off. Figures.

The storm must’ve triggered some sort of power outage. Great. Now you’ll have to find some other ATM.

Why, oh why, did the restaurant that your boss wanted to take you to tomorrow morning have to be cash only?

Whatever, there should be a bank a few blocks from here.

Your heels click on the tile as you make your way to the door. When you grab the handle and pull, it doesn’t budge.

There’s a beat.

You try again, really putting your back into it this time.

“Am I stupid or what?” you whisper to yourself, trying the other door and pulling equally as hard.

“They’re not going to open,” the man behind you says. “The fail-safe locks probably kicked in once the power went out. It’s a security measure.”

You turn around and look at him with a blank look on your face. “Oh, ah, um… s-sorry, no… no Korean.”

The man blinks at you. “You don’t speak Korean?”

You blink right back at him. “Um…” All you can do is shake your head with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you repeat.

Another series of blinks are exchanged.

“No… Korean?” he asks slowly. His English sounds so unsure.

You nod. “No… no Korean.”

A tiny, exasperated sigh comes from his lips and he looks around, as if anything inside this tiny little room would be able to help him communicate with you. Meanwhile, you turn back to the door and give it another sharp tug to no avail.

“No,” he says firmly, drawing your attention back to him. He motions down to the door handles and then shakes his head.

“No?” you repeat, a bit confused.

“No.”

Honestly, the primitive conversation between the two of you would be somewhat laughable if you didn’t feel frustrated beyond belief.

“Why?” you ask, becoming annoyed. Obviously, he knows something that you don’t.

The man blinks at you and shifts around nervously on his feet. His hands motion around as he tries to conjure up a sentence in English. “N… No. Closed?... Closed.” He nods, saying the word rather confidently.

Yes, you know the door is closed. But, why?

After a second, he sees that whatever he said evidently isn’t good enough, so he points back to the ATM, to the light that is now off due to no power, and then to the locks. You follow his pointing and the cogs in your brain start turning slowly.

“Fail-safe locks,” you state and then finally release the door handles.

“Fail… Fail-safe locks,” he repeats slowly. “Fail-safe locks.”

“Fail-safe locks?” you parrot his Korean back to him and he nods.

A small hum comes from your chest and you take a step back from the door finally. “How long do you think–” you cut yourself off when you look over at him. The man is staring at you, not following a word you’re saying.

Your hand comes up and you brush some wet hair off your forehead and then scratch the back of your head as a nervous tick. There’s no point in even asking the question, he won’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.

If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be a bit annoyed too. But at the same time, he’s already been kinder than most would be in this situation.

He’s locked in an ATM vestibule with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as him– in his own country. He’s been more than kind. Most people would just wave you off and forget trying to communicate at all.

But here he was, talking slowly and making sure you can understand what he’s saying. He’s going so far as to point around the room to make sure you understand.

The man notices you give up and he lets out a tiny sigh, turning to then peer out the glass doors at the streets of Seoul. There’s basically no one out there, everyone has taken shelter from the squall.

“We’ll have to wait until the police come to open the door.” He pats at his pockets, searching for his phone.

Even with how terrible your Korean is, you still pick up on a few words. “Police?” A beat. “Police?”

“Yes,” he answers in English, taking his phone out and tapping the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear. The man continues to look through the glass doors, watching all the different cars drive by, none of them police cars.

You decide to turn around, walking around the tiny room.

All of the lights are off except for the emergency lights. They cast a dull glow through the entirety of the vestibule. There's barely enough light to see from one side of the room to the other.

Rain starts hammering against the glass as the man speaks into his phone. “Yes, hi, hello. I am currently trapped with another woman inside the ATM vestibule of Metrobank Seoul… Namdaemunno… Yes, that one.”

Your ears perk up when he mentions the name of the bank and the address. Ah, he must have called the police. His face pulls into a slightly annoyed look, but he doesn’t speak with a hint of it through the phone, at least, not that you’re really able to tell.

The man says a few more words into the phone before he hangs up with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and then down his face in an exasperated fashion before turning to look at you. His mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it and he grimaces even more.

Your own features pull into a sympathetic expression and you look away, slightly embarrassed. Should you have learned more of the language before coming here? Absolutely. But at the same time, you didn’t have much time to prepare once you were told you had to travel here for business.

He shuffles from foot to foot and looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets and desperately trying to remember every English class he took in school.

“Police…” he says slowly, thinking through every word he wants to try and say. “Police are… busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yes. Busy. Busy with… car…” He brings both of his hands together and claps and then makes an explosion noise with his hands.

“A car accident?”

He snaps his fingers and points to you, as if you’re a team during a game of charades.

“Car accident,” he says in Korean.

“Car accident,” you repeat and he nods.

Despite the reality of the situation, you smile. The humor in all of this does not escape you. You decide to try and meet him halfway, even with your butchered pronunciation.

“Police… time… long?” Your head cocks to the side and you point to your watch. He shakes his head and shrugs in exaggerated movements.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. The accident was that bad, huh? No wonder the power went out then, the car must have smashed into electrical lines after that loud clap of thunder. This probably means all of the traffic lights and such are out too.

The police are most likely directing traffic and making sure no one gets injured; two idiots stranded in an ATM vestibule are the least of their concerns. Honestly, you can’t be in a safer place. Well, unless this guy is a murderer, but you haven’t gotten a harsh vibe yet.

You sigh and lean against the wall near the corner across from the ATM. Your body slides down to the floor and you stare straight ahead. It seems like you’re going to be in here for a while then.

The man takes one last look outside the doors before walking in your direction. He leans against the adjacent wall and takes a seat on the floor with you. His shoes almost touch the side of yours. It’s at this time that you let yourself take a moment to really look at him.

He has to be around your age; older than a college graduate but younger than someone settled into their career. Something that definitely doesn’t escape your attention is how… pretty he is. His skin is near perfect and so is his hair. Everything, down to the clothes he’s wearing, is absolutely flawless– and he’s only in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie!

Next to him, especially in your current drowned rat state, you probably look like something worse than a hot mess. You quickly comb your hair off your forehead once more and pull at your soaking wet clothes sticking to your skin.

The man’s lips purse for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, then promptly stops, opting for a grumble of frustration.

After a moment, an idea flickers through your mind and you hold up one finger to him to say ‘one moment’. You reach down into your pocket for your phone and take it out, tapping at a few screens and bringing up the Translate app.

‘What’s your name?’ you type into the phone and it immediately translates it into Korean below it. You turn your phone around and hold it up to him.

The man looks at you, then your phone, and his eyes light up. If you’re not mistaken, you even see a little bit of relief flash over his features. A tiny smirk pulls at one corner of his lips before he looks back at you.

“Minho,” he answers and motions to you.

“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, Minho.” You hold your hand out for a handshake.

Minho looks at your hand and his smirk gets wider before he grabs your hand and shakes it gently. The skin on his palm is so soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

After shaking his hand, you bring your phone back up to your face and type another sentence into the translate app.

‘I’m very sorry for not knowing Korean, I’m here on business.’

Minho looks at your phone, reading the statement before shaking his head and pulling out his own phone. He types away and then holds it up for you to read.

‘No need to apologize. With my line of work, my English should be better. It’s a very hard language to learn.’

A little laugh huffs from your nose and you nod and type.

‘Try learning Korean.’

Minho laughs with you and his smirk grows into a playful smile. Jesus Christ, this man is gorgeous. He looks down and taps a bit on his phone and then he holds it up to you. With the way his smirk pulls at his lips, it almost reminds you of a devious little cat.

‘I could tell you were a foreigner when you first came into the bank.’

Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, really?”

He’s chuckling when he brings his phone back to type more and then hold it up for you to read.

‘You don’t have an umbrella.’

Laughter leaves your lips when you read that and your head tilts back to rest against the wall. The wetness from your clothes is beginning to seep into your bones. Plus, the feeling of the fabric sticking to your skin is starting to become overstimulating.

But, you try and keep it together. You don’t really have another option at the moment.

You type a message back to Minho.

‘People tried to warn me about the Monsoon Season. As you can see, I didn’t listen.’

He reads your message and sucks his teeth with a smirk. Minho shakes his head and motions to the glass doors, as if to say ‘Look!’.

“I know, I know!” you laugh and look outside at the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. Puddles have turned into small ravines flowing down the sides of the road. Any car that passes by creates a huge splash as they pass through them.

Every once in a while, the sky will light up and thunder will follow it quickly.

Minho laughs with you. “Next time… you listen.” He nudges your leg with his foot.

You look over at him. “I will, trust me.”

A long look is shared between the two of you. There’s this tiny nagging feeling at the back of your mind, it’s that same feeling you get when you see someone in public that you swear you’ve seen before. Maybe he just has one of those faces?

No, you definitely haven’t met him before. You would remember if he was someone you shook hands with in the last few days. A man that gorgeous would never slip under your radar, you’re certain.

Minho stares back at you, eyes flitting about at your soaking wet hair matting to your skin. It looks like his one hand twitches for a moment and then he shifts in his seat.

Back to the app.

The two of you type away on your phones and hold them up at the same time with the exact same question on them.

‘What do you do for work?’

‘What do you do for work?’

Again, the two of you let out little huffs of laughter and he motions to you as if to tell you to go first.

So you do, you type down on your phone a little answer for him.

‘Right now, I’m only the assistant to a CEO for a huge company. Wherever he goes, I go. I write all his contracts; everything he does goes through me first. I’m more of an administrator than an assistant, though.’

Minho reads your answer carefully and then types out a small response with a tiny crease in between his brows.

‘Why do you say ‘right now’?’

A sad smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone to type out a response.

‘I studied hard and have a Mathematics degree. But no matter where I apply, they say I don’t have enough experience. Back in America, the job market is absolutely horrible. So, I’m stuck.’

Minho’s eyes scan through your message and a frown pulls at his lips. He looks back up at you, meeting your eyes and then back to your phone before he begins to type his own message.

Your silent communication warms your heart a little bit. The glow from his phone lights up his features and you study him carefully. His teeth poke out from his top lip– it’s absolutely adorable.

He seems to think for a long moment before his thumbs fly over his screen.

Rain is coming down in sheets outside the door, it’s the only other sound inside the room besides the light clicking of the haptics on his phone.

You reach back and once more run your fingers through your hair– it seems to be drying now, but not in a good way. The humidity of the rain is apparent in the way it's starting to frizz up.

Minho turns his phone around after a moment of typing.

‘I’ve heard about how hard it is to get a job in America, I’m very sorry it’s so unfair. For what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing wrong with the job you have now. Hard work is hard work no matter if it's an assistant or a scientist.’

His words strike a chord within your heart, they tug at your chest and at the corner of your lips which twitch into a wistful smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you say to him in Korean, looking directly into his eyes. Minho smiles back at you when he hears it.

“You are welcome,” he answers in English.

His smile seems so warm for a stranger. He looks at you as if you’re an old friend, not like a woman, still soaking wet from the rain, sitting on the floor with him inside an ATM vestibule. He’s so genuine.

After a few seconds of just looking at him, you bring your phone up to type once more.

‘Your turn. What do you do?’

Minho stares at your phone for a long time, seemingly reading the sentence over and over again. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth and he seems to weigh something in his mind.

His brown eyes flick to yours, then back to the phone, then back to you again before he looks down at his phone.

You never realized how much just body language alone can convey.

He types slower, his thumbs not moving as quickly as before. Why does he seem so apprehensive?

Eventually, he turns the phone around.

‘I’m an idol.’

“Oh,” you say softly. Your shoulders shrug a bit and you cock your head to the side. “Like a K-pop idol?”

Minho nods in response. “Stray Kids.”

The name rings a bell, it’s just one you’ve heard floating around for a few months now. You think one of your friends is into them, but you can’t remember. She’s into so many different groups, it’s hard to keep track anymore.

You type in your phone.

‘I’ve heard the name before. Weren’t you guys at the MET Gala?’

With a breathy chuckle, he nods. A smile spreads across your face.

‘Wow, I’m trapped in a room with a celebrity then. You know, people write stories like this.’

Your joke definitely lands because he snorts a huff of laughter as you type on your phone a little bit more after that.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t take pictures and post them all over Twitter or anything. This will just be a funny story for me to tell my friends when I get back home to America.’

“Thank you,” Minho says softly with genuine gratitude in his voice. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like being an idol. There probably wasn’t a single place he felt safe going to anymore. There are always cameras just waiting to take his picture.

‘When do you go back to America?’

‘In a few days. My boss loves to extend his business trips at the last minute. So, I could be here three more days or seven more days. It’s very hard to pack to come on these trips.’

A bittersweet expression settles on his handsome face.

You think for a long moment before typing away at your phone and showing it to him.

‘Have you ever been to New Jersey? That’s the state I’m from.’

Minho’s lips purse as he thinks for a long few moments. Very slowly, he nods, almost unsure. He types in his phone, then thinks for a moment, then types again.

‘I think we’ve been there twice. Is Newark in New Jersey?’

Excitedly, you nod. “Yes, that’s up in North Jersey!” You’re so excited that you forget to type down on your phone. “Oh!” you say with a laugh, looking back down at your phone.

‘Yes, that’s in the northern part of the state, about an hour or so from my hometown. I grew up in the central region, right on the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get to the beach from my house.’

Minho’s smile widens and he looks at you with a slightly envious look in his eyes. You giggle in response.

‘Two other members love the beach, but they’re from Australia.’

‘Australian beaches are probably not that different from American beaches. But I’ve never been to Australia. Have you?’

Minho nods and you see him close his translation app and switch over to his camera roll. His fingers quickly begin scrolling up through the countless amount of photos he has on his phone.

Not wanting to invade his privacy, you look away from his phone and out the doors in the vestibule once more. Not a single soul is walking– or running– along the sidewalks anymore.

Due to the power outage, there’s not even street lights illuminating in the puddles, it’s almost eerie looking. But, surprisingly, you don’t feel uneasy at all. Especially not with Minho sitting at your side.

Said man hums to get your attention, shuffling closer to you, and you look down at his phone. The picture is absolutely gorgeous.

It’s a photo of the beach, you’re assuming in Australia. The red sun is peeking above the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful wash of reds, pinks, and purples, all of the colors melting into one another. The clouds are wispy and glow in the morning sun.

The ocean seems so beautifully blue, even the foam at the crash of the waves is beautiful.

In front of the ocean is a gaggle of boys, it looks like there’s about seven of them. Each of them have bright, beautiful smiles on their faces reaching their eyes.

You’ve never been able to feel joy radiating from a photo like this, it seems to be contagious since you find a smile pulling at your own lips.

“This photo is beautiful,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of it.

Minho hums, maybe he understood what you said. His thumb moves and he scrolls to the next picture where two of the boys have taken one of the others by his legs and arms and seem to be pretending to toss him into the surf.

A soft giggle comes from your lips and you find yourself leaning towards him a bit to get a better look at the photo. Truly, you didn’t even notice your shoulders brushing against each other, and by his lack of reaction, it seems Minho didn’t either.

“Friends?” you ask him in your choppy Korean.

Minho looks over at you, his face closer to you than before. His eyes widen a bit at your proximity, but he doesn’t back up at all.

“Family,” he corrects you in his soft English.

An even warmer feeling spreads through your chest and you look back down at the photo. They must be his band members, but they just look so much closer than that. It reminds you of all of your friends back home.

Before you can even think twice, you’re opening your own camera roll, scrolling through an endless sea of memories before finding one specific morning you woke up to go watch the sunrise on the beach.

A tiny, awe-struck noise comes from Minho when he looks down at it.

“Sunrise,” you say and then think for a moment. You’re not sure of the Korean you want to say. “Favorite… time.”

He’s so patient when you speak, it absolutely melts your heart. There’s a different air about his softness with you too. He’s not treating you like a child just learning how to speak, no, he’s just being… nice. He’s being sweet and genuine and it speaks volumes about his character.

“Sunrise,” he says in Korean.

“Sunrise,” you repeat, looking up at him. His eyes were already trained on your face by the time you looked up. A tiny dusting of pink covers your cheeks. How long has he been looking at you?

A happy smile spreads over his lips, the edges curl up playfully. He nods. “Sunrise. Sunrise.”

“Sunrise.” Your voice says softly once more before looking back down at your phone.

Swiping through a few more pictures, you show him the boardwalk that runs down the beaches by your house. Everything from shops, to amusement park rides, to lemonade and ice cream stands litter the entirety of the shore.

He points down at the ferris wheel and shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.

“No?” you ask with a laugh. “Why not?”

“No… no high,” he shakes his head and motions his hands around to emphasize his point.

“Best picture,” you giggle holding your hand up in the air to emphasize the height aspect, then you’re swiping to the next picture taken from the top of the ferris wheel. This time, it was sunset. “Sunset.”

“Sunset.” A pause. “My… My… favorite time.”

A soft hum bubbles up in your throat. He loves sunset whereas you love sunrise. How cute.

“Sunset is beautiful,” you say slowly. Your eyes are still on your phone when you swipe to another photo.

“Beautiful,” Minho whispers softly.

Humming, you nod. “Yes, beautiful.”

A soft puff of air comes out of his nose and fans out over your cheek. When did he get this close? You look up at him and almost bump his nose with yours.

Minho’s head flinches back a bit at your sudden movement, but he makes no move to get further away from you.

He sighs softly, his eyes flitting all over your face, taking in every one of your features. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen, that pink blush making its way back to your face. You can’t even help the tiny, giddy giggle that bubbles in your throat. You look down shyly, biting your bottom lip.

Tender, gentle fingers lift your chin back up. Truly, you didn’t notice how cold your skin was until his warm touch spread on your skin.

Is this really happening?

A shiver races down your spine and a soft shudder comes out of your lips. Minho’s eyes look down at your lips and then down at your arm where goosebumps begin to raise.

He pulls away gently, making your brows furrow. Did you do something wrong? Maybe you misread his–

He’s shrugging off his hoodie.

Oh, he thinks you're cold.

Before you can even think to tell him you’re okay, he’s pulling your shoulder forward a bit so he can drape it over your back, bundling you up in such a pleasant, soft warmth. With small, fussy movements, he’s closing the hoodie around your body.

Perhaps you didn’t even notice how cold you were until you were suddenly surrounded in a warmth that can be compared to the fuzziest blanket you own. Not to mention the absolutely delightful scent that wafts upwards into your nose from the fabric.

It’s such a clean, cozy, calming scent. It’s like you buried your nose into the Mahogany Teakwood candle at Bath and Body Works.

Your eyes stay trained on his face while he bundles you up tightly. His hands gently grab your arms and rub up and down a few times to create even more warmth.

“Better,” he murmurs, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

How is it that a stranger has wormed himself into your heart like this? His tender gaze makes your soul feel calm, like those pictures of the morning surf under the sunrise.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to him. Your hands come up to grab at the hoodie, curling into the fabric.

Minho smiles back at you, you can see how his smile grows as he watches you relax into his clothing. There’s no space between your shoulders as you rest against adjacent walls, your two bodies have melted into the corner.

There’s a clap of thunder outside, but neither of you move. Your feet shuffle on the floor as you bring your knees closer to your chest. His legs adjust around yours, feeding them under your bent knees and tangling your limbs up further.

It’s so hard to break Minho’s eye contact, but you do it slowly, looking down at your phone and opening up the translate app once more. His soft breathing hits your cheek with every exhale.

‘You’re too nice to a stranger.’

Minho hums, almost in agreement. He picks up his phone and types back.

‘I’m usually not.’

You read the statement and then look at him, your head cocked to the side. Your brows furrow in confusion, but he types more before you can even ask another question.

‘I don’t know why I feel drawn to you.’

The text looks right back at you. Your heart flutters in your chest and you know that your cheeks get redder and redder by the second. Still, you can’t contain the giddy laugh that makes its way past your lips.

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and hide the smile, but it only makes Minho smile wider. His hand slowly comes up towards your cheek. Right before he’s able to make contact, he stops, hovering over your skin and gazing into your eyes.

A silent question is asked through his eyes. It’s a language that you don’t need any sort of app for. An answer is communicated right back.

Soft, tender warmth spreads over your cheek, radiating all throughout your body in the most gentle glow. His thumb caresses over your cheek bone, swiping gentle strokes back and forth.

You feel the same as him, that’s the strange part. There’s something so alluring about him that you just can’t put your finger on it. He’s pulling you in like a magnet and you don’t even want to fight against it.

There’s so many words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you know that each and every one of them would fall on deaf ears. Nothing that you can say in the moment would make sense to him.

Exhales are shared and mingled together in the minimal space between your faces,

“Beautiful,” he whispers for your ears only. Not like there’s anyone else to hear it except the ATM sitting dormant in the corner of the vestibule. Not even the mice in the walls would have been able to hear his murmur.

Love at first sight was something you always gawked and scoffed at. You always thought that it was such a Hallmark invention, that there was no way you would be able to just look at someone once and immediately fall head over heels for them.

But here you were, sitting on a dirty floor, feeling your heart beating faster and faster in your chest. Letting your face be cradled by a man you didn’t know two hours ago. By the man who patiently worked with you to communicate.

How is this even possible?

You can count on one hand the amount of things you know about one another.

Minho, who is a famous idol in Korea, who loves sunset and hates heights, who has the most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

Minho, who did whatever he could just to talk to you when he could have just as easily sat in silence on the other side of the vestibule.

His hand slowly drags down your cheek, each finger gliding down your skin towards your jawline to lift under your chin.

Another silent question passes through both of you in the one language you seem to both be fluent in.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and he hears you loud and clear.

Minho leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight touch. But, despite how soft the kiss is, heat spreads through your body in a grand wave, rushing through your fingertips and into your toes.

The first press is long and sweet, the two of you simply melting into the sensation of being locked together.

He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes gazing down at your lips before he swoops in again, this time his movements a bit quicker.

His hand returns to your cheek, guiding your head to tilt to the side to gain better access to your lips.

A soft sigh leaves your nose and your own hand travels up to grab at his shirt gently, just needing to hold onto him in any way possible.

Minho responds to your sigh, his lips moving a bit faster against yours. Both of your lips part and close, moving like mirror images of one another. Every few kisses, your noses brush against one another, but it doesn’t deter you from your actions at all.

Slowly, your hand travels from his shirt up to his neck, running up the side of his flushed skin. He feels feverish to the touch and it only spurs you on to keep moving. At the contact on his own body, Minho lets out a tiny grunt against your lips, his kisses stutter for a moment but he’s back to kissing you after just a moment.

Up, up, up, your hand travels over his moving jaw, to his cheek, then moving back to thread in his soft, brown trusses of hair. God, everything about him is just so perfect. It’s like you’re combing your fingers through the softest of cotton.

His kisses are getting deeper, little sighs come from both of your mouths as the passion continues on. Minho’s body turns towards yours a bit more, his knees canting up and almost forcing your legs onto his lap.

Tentatively, you feel his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking gently at your lower lip. You don’t even hesitate to give him access to your mouth. A gentle moan claws its way up your throat as his tongue licks into your mouth.

The hand on your cheek grips you a bit tighter, holding your face to his– as if you would want to try and move away from Minho and his addicting kisses.

“I just can’t help it,” he whispers in Korean against your spit, soaked lips before capturing them once more. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

All you catch is your name and it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t even need to know what else he said, his tone says it all. The way it comes out in a breathy exhale is enough to send your mind reeling.

“Please,” you murmur into his mouth before he presses his lips to yours once more with the same amount of passion and need in his actions.

More and more rain hits the glass doors, becoming the only sound that can be heard in the room except for your shared exhales, pants, and breathy moans.

Slowly, the kisses begin to calm down. Minho pulls away for a moment to take a long breath. His thumb moves to brush against your lower lip like a butterfly landing on a flower.

His eyes open just a crack, gazing down at your mouth with a hazy look in his eye. As he slowly catches his breath, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing along the heated skin on your face.

“Forgive me, I didn’t do things in order,” he whispers. “I should’ve taken you out first.”

Your eyes open and you look at him in confusion. “Hm?”

His jaw clenches before he swallows and he takes another long moment to look over your face, his features soft and welcoming.

There’s some movement as his other hand blindly pats around his lap for his phone. He can’t physically tear himself away from you long enough to even look down.

Another tiny laugh comes from your lips.

Your fingers move out of his hair to come around and gently run over his features, brushing against his jawline, to then trace up to his lips and up the length of his nose, memorizing each and every detail.

Minho melts into your touch, his face moving closer to your touch, seeking you out.

His hand finally finds his phone and he grabs it blindly, flipping it around in his lap and tearing his gaze away from your face to glance down at it.

Thumbs are flying across the screen to type at his translate app. He’s typing so quickly on his phone that you can't help but laugh a bit.

Before he’s able to turn the phone around, there are a few sharp knocks against the glass of the vestibule. The two of you practically jump out of your skin and your heads whip over to the doors.

Red and blue lights are flashing outside and it looks like two police officers are standing outside, peering in at you both. They wave when they see they’ve caught your attention.

Minho looks at the police officers, then to you, then back to the officers, and then back to you once more. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he tries to form a few words but you’re untangling your limbs from one another.

In a moment, you’re both on your feet as the officers work on unlocking the doors from the outside.

Minho gently grabs at your arm and you look down where he’s touching and your heart sinks a little. His eyes look a little questioning and desperate.

“Oh,” you say sadly. You shrug off his jacket, and hand it back to him. Minho’s eyebrows pull together and his lips part. He looks down at the jacket and then up at you.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Are you two alright?” The police officer calls inside in Korean.

“We’re okay,” Minho responds without breaking eye contact with you. He puts a hand on his jacket still dangling over your arm and pushes it back towards you.

“Minho?” you ask, looking at him and then at the officer approaching you both.

“We apologize for the delay, but we knew you two were safe, so we had to prioritize,” the officer says.

You blink at him blankly for a moment before then looking back at Minho.

“She’s a foreigner,” he says to the officer, finally looking away from you. “She doesn’t know Korean.”

“Ah,” the officer responds. “My apologies. You can tell her that she’s free to go.” He nods at the two of you and motions towards the door. You take his hint and slowly begin follow him.

Once again, Minho tugs on your arm and you pause, turning around to look at him. He’s holding his phone up to your face with a pleading look in his eye.

‘Can I please buy you a drink?’

A wide smile spreads across your cheeks and you can’t deny the relief that you feel inside your chest. The moment your lips twitch upwards, Minho immediately mirrors it.

“Yes,” you respond. “I love to go.”

He chuckles at your choppy Korean once more before taking his jacket out of your hands and wrapping you inside it once more. This time, he grabs the hood and pulls it up over your head.

With a satisfied hum, he nods and laces your fingers together.

“Come,” he says confidently.

“Lead way.”

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ haunt me

pairing: demon!lee minho x f!reader

genre: one-shot, horror au, smut

word count: 11,2K

warnings: small!stalking ⋆ obsessive behavior ⋆ blood ⋆ hair!pulling⋆ ass!slapping ⋆ biting! ⋆ pain!kink⋆ choking! ⋆ small!fear play⋆ dom!leeknow & sub!reader ⋆ rough!sex ⋆ ass up face down!position ⋆ fingering (f.receiving) ⋆ oral (f.receiving) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: on Halloween night, you and your friends gather for a classic spirit summoning, eager to make the most of this tradition, unaware that you will be the one to face the consequences…

author’s note: this is actually the first ever thing I wrote here, but I forgot about it but now it’s finally seeing the light of the day

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The blanket around you did nothing for the coldness that seeped into your skin. Your teeth are still chattering, lips dry and nose runny. You should’ve known better, all of you. Your muscles are straining with every small move you make to get yourself a little more comfortable on the hard floor. Your eyes go over the room, finding only disappointment. The costumes, makeup and left over mess reminded everyone of how horrible the party was. You remember how excited you and your friends were. You all spend so much time getting ready, almost freezing to death while walking to the so called party. You looked forward to it so much and maybe you did have way too high of expectations. Everything was awful and mostly — it lacked the Halloween spirit.

Your attention goes back to the television, just as the lead character is being chased by the killer. Her screams pierce your ears, while you take a small sip of the wine in your hands. You and your friends decided to just rather go home and have a small party of your own. The disappointment was so great that none of you had an appetite for searching for another party. However the costume still wrapped around your body was telling you something different. Just watching horror movies and sitting in a costume didn’t fill the need of thrill you so needed.

Soft footsteps are heard, making you all turn, some in fright, thinking that something evil is coming right towards you all, but is just your friend Katherine. The soft light, illuminates her figure clad in dark, long dress, her nails glimmering as she lifts up something to show you. Firstly you only see what seems like a plate, but as another one of your friends goes to switch on a lamp beside you, all of you immediately realize what she was holding.

“Look what I got!” Her voice is chippery, but it holds a small mocking at the end. A series of groans and small sounds echo around you, while your eyes are still on the Ouija board in her hands. Your eyes go quickly over the letters and the planchette. Even with alcohol in your system, you are getting a really weird feeling from the piece of wood. It makes the hair at the back of your head stand up, shivers going down your spine. You are definitely not alone, because your friend Jade is almost trembling from even the thought of using such thing. Your hand falls on top of her messy hair to soothen her, but your eyes are still on the witch who rolls her eyes at her other friend’s noises. “Oh, common, it’s mandatory.”

The girl next to you shakes her head immediately, hand pointing to the board, making the others for a second silent. “You know what happens after using that thing, right?” You have to agree a little with her weariness. You have ever actually thought about talking to the death. Nothing made you believe something evil existed, but also you were not a sceptic. just nothing made you believe there was something more so far. Jade was scared of everything, so your friends didn’t take her warning so seriously and you have to huff softly at that.

“Well, yeah—“ Katherine shrugs, looking down at the Ouija board. “But also no, because I’ve never tried it.”

You watch her as she sits down on the floor before you, your other two friends circling around her to look closely at the wooden tablet. You too can’t help, but tilt your head at it. There were few scratches, dark smudges, but maybe it was that design. “Where did you get this?” You wonder, because you don’t think she has these kinds of things just laying around in her apartment.

She looks up at you, dark eyes peeking out from behind her neon yellow contact lenses. “The thrift store.” Some of you have to laugh shortly at her dry response, some too occupied by the board laying before you all.

“Are there at least instructions?” Wonders out loud your friend Hannah who sits across from you in her scary clown costume.

“Who needs them?”

It has to be the alcohol or maybe you were already getting tired, but as the television is shut off, lights switched off, you have this weird feeling on the back of your head. You scratch at the burning spot, distracting yourself for just a second by liting up some few candles. The flame gives you the small amount of warmth you so desperately need. You can still feel the coldness licking at your skin, but there was also this awful heat gathering in your chest. Were you nervous? Scared? A frown is plastered on your face, eyes never leaving the Ouija board, like the planchette would move at any second.

This uneasy feeling is not shared however, but still your friends seem to get a little quieter. All of you sit on the floor, the only light being the few lit candles around you and the Moon peeking behind the curtains. Was it the thought of doing something you shouldn’t that was scaring you? You refuse to believe that something in the shadows was peaking at you. The paranoia was eating you alive. Your frozen finger digs into your skin, pulse jumping rapidly and you have to remind yourself that it is all just in your head. None of you were touching it so far, however the sight of those scratches, dips and cravings on the board seem to pierce your soul.

You blink rapidly, smudging your makeup, because you have to sigh in exhaustion. You can’t remember the last time you were so paranoid and — scared. Maybe it is only because you have never tried it, but looking at your other friends they didn’t seem too into it. They still chatted between each other shortly, swallowing down the cheep wine. You look down into your own cup, swirling the liquid around as you can’t find the appetite to take a sip right now.

You are startled a little when someone claps their hands together, making your attention move to Katherine who rubs her palms together. “Are we going to do this?” Your eyes flicker to your scared friend, a little tipsier than before, so you are not too surprised by seeing her just nod in agreement. You do not protest either, putting down your cup next to you and outstretching your hands to the planchette that sits in the middle of the floor.

The silence is heavy, completely aware of the darkness wrapping around you, piercing your back. You try to ignore it as best as you can, shaking your head at yourself, pressing your finger lightly on the planchette. Nothing is heard for a second, all of you looking at each other briefly, before Amanda speaks up. “Is anybody here?” She calls out and her voice seem to echo around you almost.

Silence again, but you can’t help, but look around. Though you have to sigh a little when the same question is repeated. “It doesn’t work like that.” You say, cutting through the quiet.

Everyone turns to look at you and your friend can’t help, but raise a challenging eyebrow. “Okay, you try then.” Says Hannah.

You clear your throat a little, swallowing the invisible lump in your throat. The way you are becoming nervous is making you anxious. The blanket around you slips from your shoulders, the cold immediately kissing you. It felt like there was no layer left between you and the darkness. When you straighten your back, shuffling a little closer to the board, your fingers start to tremble. The small frown of confusion by your body reacting like this is visible, but you try to keep it together. Licking your lips, your eyes go around the room, before plastering your eyes back down. “We welcome everyone who wants to join us and if anyone is here, we would like you to make a sign.” You take a deep breaths between each word, not knowing exactly what is suitable to say in this kind of situation.

Your voice seems almost loud in the quiet room, but everyone seems to listen carefully to you. You do too, a little too hard, because the only thing you can hear for a while is your blood rushing in your ears. Your eyes are wide open, searching in the dark behind your friends. You don’t even know for what you are searching, but you feel like the answer is close. You have never talk to the dead, but you can’t say that people who do this are exaggerating. The waiting for something to happen is frightening and you think you have never been so on high alert over something that wasn’t even there.

“Could you maybe knock on something?” Asks Jade, her voice quiet, but in the room even a pin drooping could be heard.

“Or make that candle blow out?”

Questions fly across the room, though nothing happens for a moment. All of you look at each side of the room, your eyes however fall into the hallway where you were sitting next to. Nothing is seen, only those specks of light made by your eyes. However you swear you feel warmth coming from the end of the hallway. It was almost suffocating in a way, already thinking it’s just you, but then something does happen and you feel it yourself as very one else in the room.

“It’s moving….” Exclaims Amanda in shock, staring down at the planchette. Your own breath gets stuck in your throat, because you swear you feel the planchette vibrating under your fingers. Your eyes immediately trail over to your friends in disbelief. It moves subtly in short stops and you have to shake your head at it.

“Who is moving it?”

“It’s not me! You’re doing it!”

The voices of your friends fall to deaf ears. You don’t want to believe it, but looking at the frightened faces of your friends, you can tell that their reactions are completely genuine. Nervous feeling creeps up on you, watching the planchette travel over the board, before it stops at a corner. “Yes?” You say softy the word and you swallow roughly, eyes trailing over the room. You don’t want to believe it, but you are now left with no choice. “Is it yes that someone is here with us?” You ask again, listening carefully.

For a moment you only hear your friends’ whimpers of fear and your own heart in your ears, but then a small tap is heard behind you. Your head whips around quickly, your own gasp matching with the others as you stare with wide eyes at the window behind you. Only the Moon and swinging trees can be seen, nothing other than that. You turn back around to look at your friends, but your eyes fall onto something different.

The candles around you seem to rise, flame flickering and bending like something is blowing at them. Your own face of your fear, makes them look into the direction and few hushed curses are being shared across the room. “Holy shit–“ Says Hannah.

“Maybe you left the window open?”

“You know damn well that I didn’t, Jade”

You are not following their conversation again, lost in thought or to be honest you can’t even think straight right at this moment. Your face scrunches up, shivers going down your spine. You eyes widened again, freezing in your spot. The side of your body burns, it left like something was poking you, telling you to turn around. You can’t move however for a second, from the corner of your eye watching your friends panic over the planchette moving again, but you are not even touching it anymore. The thing that frightens the most is the feeling of someone’s eyes staring at your back.

Your head turns slowly around, body screaming at you not to, but something is controlling you, pushing you to look back into the hallway. The hot air rushes to your face and it wasn’t from the candles. When you finally turn to glance into the darkness, your blurry eyes from not blinking at all don’t see anything for a moment, but soon from the darkness appears a sphere, then it forms and forms till it turns into a silhouette of a person.

You gasp, breath getting stuck in your chest. It is eery, horrifying sight and even if you finally blink rapidly, like it was just your own eyes playing tricks on you, it only seems to get closer. It reaches for you and you want to pull back, but can’t. You watch the mass of darkness become fuller slowly, before you see pair of red beaming eyes forming out of it. You lips fall apart, a loud scream at the back of your tongue, but before it can fall out of you, the candles that you just now realized became even higher dim back down by blink of an eye.

The sound of the board being thrown across the room, makes you snap out of the trance, scrambling away, just like your friends. You are breathing hard, head turning to look at others who only have their eyes on the board in the corner of the room. And you at the moment realize in your frightened state that you have been the only one who saw the truth.

────

With every step, with every breath you took, your head would turn around. Paranoia seemed to follow you the moment you left your friend’s apartment and you hoped that was the only thing truly following you. You lived quite far, too late to catch the last bus, leaving you to walk your way home. However you were at least walking through the city and maybe you were just imagining the burning eyes at the back of your head. And if you weren’t, a look from a stranger couldn’t make you feel like this. Someone — something was sizing you up, following you, perfectly mimicking your movements like your own shadow and just as you though you caught it, turning around swiftly — nothing, only a crowd of people who didn’t even acknowledge your presence.

You didn’t either, there seem to be invisible to you and the thing following you that couldn’t be seen either however, had a strong sense of presence. Was there really safety in numbers? After a while, every little noise made you jump, laughter and occasional screams of terror when the unreal monsters jumped at someone, made your head spin. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe, like you already you have already considered, it was only in your head. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to try and talk to the dead and on this night specifically as everyone around you made your delusions even stronger.

You couldn’t breathe. Every time your feet moved faster, it seemed to be even closer to you. So close you that you could feel it reaching the back of your neck or was it just the wind? Your eyes trailed over the people. No one was looking at you, everyone minded their own, drinking the night away and crowding the small square. What if you and your friends decided to go here instead and not the party? What if you wouldn’t play with the board?

Your stroll slowed down to a full stop. It felt like whatever that was following you disappeared, but also at the same time seemed even closer to you. Just out of sight. You didn’t want to search for it, but something was telling you to do so. You stopped at the middle of the crowd, eyes almost like being pulled by a magnet stopping on a one specific place. The people walked through your line of vision before it become clear to you why you were so drawn to that spot.

There — right there, under the roof of a stand stood what it looked like a man by his slightly broad shoulders and short hair, but by the shadow which the roof casted on him, you couldn’t even get a glimpse of his face. However that wasn’t necessary. The way he stood…from his whole body radiated this menacing, evil aura that made your whole body freeze. Your breath was taken away from you, eyes wide, staring at the unknown figure. The same, almost even more intense wave of fear washed over you, it felt the same when you looked down the dark hallway. He didn’t feel like a real person, he felt like something way more than that. Something dark and hungry and it was staring right back at you. You didn’t see his eyes, but you just know. This couldn’t be real…

This couldn’t be real. Things like this don’t exist and if they did you feel like they would be more documented. You weren’t a true believer nor a sceptic, but you really didn’t feel like wanting to know the truth right now. He, it didn’t move and even by blinking, it didn’t vanish like you wished it would. It was probably just a person, a person with a really scary costume.

A gasp leaves you as suddenly someone elbows you. You turn to the person, catching there sneer and you realize that maybe standing in the middle of the street wasn’t a good idea. You looked stupid, but that was the least of your worries as you glance back at the man, only him being nowhere to be found. Were you just imagining things at this point? Maybe your fear was only playing with you. You ignore the weird occurrence as best as you could, deciding to continue heading back home. Your apartment was just few blocks away and at the thought of finally being inside your safe space makes you pick your pace.

The feeling of being followed doesn’t leave you however, but you keep your head high in a mock confidence, showing whatever this thing was that you are brave. You really weren’t much of an actress, because as soon as you reach the entrance door to your building, you rush to unlocked it, slipping in quickly, like the thing would just squeeze right through you. The doors slam shut loudly and you hope that none of the other residents won’t come to scold you. The more you walk your way up the stairs to your apartment, the more you don’t acknowledge the creepy feeling that someone is watching you.

Your apartment door shines brightly at you and you out of breath fumble with your keys. The satisfying click and smell of your home made you sight out in relief. You were so happy to be finally inside, greeting your cat who waited for you just as you opened the door. Your hands smoothen down her fluffy hair, sighing at her calming purring. Everything that happened flew over your head as you finally started to feel at ease. Like you thought — it was just your imagination, nothing more…

You weren’t one for drinking till you passed out, but you find yourself stumbling just a little as you pull off your shoes, already ruined just by a one night of walking. Making your way into your kitchen, you go to give some food to your fluffball who meowed at your every move and that sound really ease your racing heart.

Putting down the bowl on the floor, you watch your cat eating away for a second. You are lost in thought, though nothing specific was running through your head, just blankly staring into space. But just as you move to make your way to your bedroom, you saw something shift from the corner of your eye. Looking up, you however find nothing, but the dark corner of your unlight living room and at that your patience runs low. For yourself, because you can’t believe that you are making yourself see things in your own home where you are supposed to feel the safest.

You flip the light switch next to you, illuminating the room in subtle orange hue, your eyes still unmoving from the spot and still nothing was there. A sigh leaves you, but you refuse to say it was out of relief. At that you went to take your upper layer off, also fixing yourself something knowing that if you won’t eat or drink something, it will kill you in the morning.

You are exhausted, a heavy weight on top of your shoulders telling you to just lay down. In some way however you are still on high alert, maybe the aftermath of your own self scaring you. You thought about showering, but to be honest you didn’t have the energy to do all of your routine at this hour and also there is nothing for you to wash off.

You stumble again, but now over the bottom of your dress, catching yourself just in time with your hand on the doorway to your bedroom. The sheer, soft fabric is thrown on your bed, ignoring the mess all over the room. The corset around you didn’t suffocate you and you wonder what exactly is it that is making you lose your breath. Your hands fumble over your back, fingers just at the lacing of your top, but just before you can pull at it, you hear a noise.

It was loud and it momentarily makes you look back into the direction of your living room. You sigh shortly after, shaking your head at your own delusions. It was just your cat probably. However when you again go to pull at the string of your corset, you hear a meow right beside you, before you see your cat jumping into your field of vision on your bed. You freeze slightly, hands stilling. It is an old building, it makes noises all the time — it was nothing. You try to gaslight yourself by thinking it didn’t even happened, but then there’s even a louder bang! coming from behind you.

Your head whips around wildly, hair falling into your wide eyes that stare into your dark hallway. You feel your heart pounding against your chest and in your state of shock you are not quick enough to stop your cat from running to the direction of the noise. Your hands outstretch before you, in hushed whisper pleading your cat to come back, but her fuffy, long tail is soon gone from your vision. You hate the lump forming in your throat and the way your bottom lip quivers. That noise almost again makes you wonder if you imagine it, but then you hear it again, now in series of three bangs that echoed in your apartment. It sounded like knocking, mocking you to let whoever — whatever it was in, but what if it was already here with you? It sounded like the noises were meant for you to come in, get closer.

The noises weren’t the only thing making you frighten, it was also the way the air around you seems to drop in temperature. You immediately shiver, goosebumps appearing all over your body. But there was this odd warmness, starting right at the entrance of your open bedroom door. It was so appealing…

You finally take a step closer to the hallway when you hear another loud noise. The sudden realization that your cat might be in danger makes you take few steps further even with the fear you held in yourself. You hate her for it, but you are now only scared for her. You quickly look around your room for any kind of weapon, but you find nothing, realizing that your pepper spray was in your purse that you left on your kitchen counter. You just have to be brave…That’s what you try to tell yourself, while slowly making your way out of the room.

The darkness seemed deeper that when you went in your bedroom. It is intoxicating, heavy, it pierces your skin and stings at your eyes. Your lungs scream for air as you try not to breath at all, scared to even make a sound. Your light costume leaves you in very vulnerable state and it makes you wrap your arms around your stomach that grumbles uncomfortably. What if the thing you thought followed you was a man and he somehow got into your apartment? You don’t know if a man is better than an entity, but it certainly would make you feel less crazy. You hope that the knocking was mistaken, that it was only someone at your door. You have to tell yourself that there’s no way for someone to break in, because you locked the door immediately when you came in. However something at the back of your mind is telling you that you have the right to be frightened.

And you were to death, when you stop at the corner, living room just right behind a wall. Your eyes didn’t get use to the darknesss and looking at the threshold leading to your living room, you realized you weren’t going after light. You were only going down the path that seeped warmness, blazing hot, coming right from your living room. There was no light, the one you switched on was left that way, but now there’s not a single flicker of it peeking out. You listen carefully, for your cat or your intruder, but the sound of your heart makes your ears ring, so you had nothing, but your sight right now.

Your hand almost tears the fabric of your skirt as you lean forward a little, squinting into the room. A whiff of the same feeling washes over you again, making you pull yourself back with a choked sigh. It is the same one — like the one you felt while looking into the hallway, like the one when you saw the silhouette of the man and the same one that has been following you. Your eyes become blurry with tears, panicking, mind racing. You have no clue what to do. You have no weapon, your phone is in your kitchen and your keys…right beside the door to your apartment.

It is a bad idea, but if you would run through the living room quickly enough, you can get out. There’s still a chance that the intruder had your keys, so you ask yourself — are you willing to take the chances? Of getting caught by this…thing. You don’t want to leave your cat alone or worse with it, but if you would just make it next door to your neighbor, you can safe her and yourself. Your hand tightens around your skirt, picking it up and sprinting out of your hiding spot, but as soon as you do — you see him.

You choke, the sound bumbling in your throat, your eye staring straight at the silhouette in the corner of your room. Even in the dark, you can see it. The mass of darkness coming from him alone and the hot air suffocates you, just by looking into his direction. Tears stream down your face as you turn back to the direction of the door and back at the man, but then you hear a soft purring sound. Your cat is rubbing herself against the man’s feet and even if you are thankful nothing happened to her, you are terrified from seeing her so close to that man. Her white fur is bright and you almost come rushing to her, but as your eyes go back to the door, you run to that direction instead.

Your hand outstretches, reaches for the doorknob, even if you can see the keys glimmering before your teary eyes there was no salvation for you. You are turned around, roughly pushed to the door and a whimper of pain leaves you as your back meets the wood. Your mouth opens, ready to scream, but like he knew, his hand falls over your lips, silencing your cry for help.

Your teary eyes stare at the faceless person, eyes streaming down your face and pooling at his hand. You are held against the door, but not with his body, it was like your whole body had frozen over. You want to scream in fear, instincts telling you to just run, but you can’t move an inch. Though your body trembles, eyes searching, trying to get a view of this man. He didn’t feel real, his skin is hot, breath fanning over your face. You are starting to sweat from all the different temperatures, sobbing in fear as you hear his lips fall apart.

“Don’t scream.”

His voice is low, quiet yet strong. You don’t want to fulfill his demand, but the tone of voice — it echoed in your mind, repeating and repeating. His hand falls from your lips and you take in deep breaths, choking. You can’t even muster to scream, you can’t and you don’t want to, because he maybe will hurt you. “Please, don’t hurt me — don’t kill me.” You are shuttering over your words, choking again in your tears.

You can see him tilt his head at your pleas, standing right before your shaking body so casually it made you sick. He didn’t even try to do something to you yet and that definitely heightens the terror in you. You sob, crying and you gasping at the sound of him sushing you. You back pressed harder against the door, finally finding enough strength to move just a little away from him, when he leans just a little closer to you. “Where’s the fun in that?” He whispers to you, teasing you almost, amused tone in his voice. You look at him slightly confused, eyes blurry, still not knowing what this man looks like. You don’t feel at ease at his tone nor his words of small assurance. It is like he could see you, because you can hear the click of his shoes, stepping a little away from you. “I thought you wanted me to make myself known?”

You are left even more confused, before it quickly comes clear to you. You can’t — you won’t believe it. Those words pierce you painfully and with seeing him this much away from you, makes you immediately think of the silhouette you have seen following. This man could be just a man, but his words…back at the small seance you spoke them. A sharp intake is heard, shaking your head at the thought of this man being something more. The thought crossed your mind, but you actually never would think that it might be the truth. If it is — if this man is something from the other realm, haunting you, making you tremble in fear that it probably thrives in…you can’t – “No…” Your disagreement is quiet, heart beating wildly in horror as you look over the mass of darkness around him, evil. “This is some sick joke — you are just playing with me. Who’s behind his?” Your words are not making sense anymore to you, too many thoughts of how it could be possible leaves you thinking that it might be just a stupid prank, but no human could make you this sort of fear.

The man sneers, hissing like a snake at your words. It sounded like you just insulted him, gasping loudly when he makes a one big step closer to you and you swear your noses almost bump together. “Do you think your friends can do this?” He says, raising his hand, putting it right before your eyes. Your wide eyes stare at his hand forming into fist and by the act you see the light in your kitchen flickering with every subtle move of his. You look at him, finally seeing in the small flickers of light his face. You didn’t know what to expect, maybe a gross man or the devil himself with horns and a face of death, but you are certainly left speechless.

His dark, brown hair is slightly in his eyes. They shine, deep red at the corners that flicker with the light. Long and sculpted nose leads you to trail your eyes over his high cheekbones to his cupids bow and then his bitten, plump lips. This wasn’t a face of evil, he looked like an angel, no face that should make you feel terrified, but you can see it in his eyes. Sinister, holding evil as well as wisdom that you could never imagine or reach. Even in this small moment you had enough time to look him over, but as his hand closes into tight fist, the sound of the lightbulb shattering makes you fall back into the stage of horror. You can hear your cat running away from the scene and your tears recur, because you finally start to believe. “Do you think your friends could ever make you feel so frightened?” You shake your head, head spinning at what just happened.

He turned on the light with just his hand in the air, with just putting his hand into a fist he crushed it and you don’t want to know what else he can do. “I don’t understand…w-who are you?” You are hyperventilating, praying that is just your imagination again, but you can’t close your eyes and let him vanish from your sight. You need to see him.

“The better question is… what am I?” You are again shaking your head and it’s like he can see your thoughts, because he is making you say out loud what you have been thinking all along. You don’t seem him, but his lips lift up slightly for a moment at his own memory. “When you were playing with that Ouija board, do you know, that you opened the gates for anyone to go through?” A cry leaves you, just as the light in the corner of the room is light up with a flick of his finger. Your eyes stare into his amused ones and somehow you wished you didn’t have to see him. “You didn’t even closed it...”

Realization strikes you, your trembling stopping when you thought of your friends. What if they are also in danger just because of you? You would definitely wouldn’t be able to live with that guilt. ‘What am I?’ His words are the one thing on your mind right now. How much is he dangerous? He doesn’t even blink, doesn’t even breathe it seems, your eyes staring blankly at his face. “Oh, my—“ You can’t even finish the word as his hand quickly by a blink of an eye wraps around your throat.

You feel him squeeze his fingers in a warning, not quite choking you, but it still makes you gasp for air. “Don’t say his name, he can’t help you. You did this to yourself—“

“Are you the devil?” You wonder out loud and his whole demeanor changes, laughing drily at your question.

“I preciete the compliment, but no.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his weird behavior. You still fear him, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to hurt you at all. Maybe he already has you right where he wants, under him with his hand on your throat, playing with your life.

He maybe might not be the devil himself, but he still had those rings of fire around his irises. He is evil, you know it and evil always wants something. Like he said, you have done this to yourself and you have to pay. You know he won’t let you go, he didn’t stop following you from the apartment and even if you know who or maybe what he looks like, it doesn’t calm you down. You still know so little and you wish you didn’t have to know further. You are completely at his mercy and you are pulled back into the present when his hand tightens again, pulse jumping against his fingers.

“Just take what you want—“

He tsked at you, he now being the one shaking his head and you can’t move away from him or even fight against his strong hold as he makes you lean closer to his face. “Be careful with your words.” His upper teeth are revealed with how much he is sneering and it makes you look down at his mouth. His upper front teeth are bigger slightly, but they weren’t the thing that makes your heart skip a beat — his canine teeth were sharp as a razor and you wonder if his sneering is prediction of him maybe biting you, eating at your flesh. “I’m not the type of evil you’re imaging right now…” His voice is a little softer than before and you wonder if he can read your mind.

Then what is he? “T-then what are you?” You ask him, genuinely curious about his answer.

He lowers his head, your breathing stilling, leaving you speechless as he comes close enough to you that your lips are almost touching. “Do you want me to tell you, or do you want to find out yourself, like the big girl you are?” His breath words bounce off your parted lips, taking in his raw scent.

Heat pools over you, watching him pull away from you just to look back at your face. His words sounded suggestive and you hope your own mind isn’t messing with you. “You won’t hurt me?” Was he just playing with you all along? Just taking in the pleasure of seeing you scared?

“Not if you don’t want me to…I still have to take something.” His dark eyes fall over your body and you want nothing more than to cover yourself, because you realize at the moment how much your costume is provocative.

“Why? I didn’t ask for you — this.”

He tilts his head again, his eyes not holding amusement and you can feel the air thickening around you. “Did you now? Or were your drunk thoughts just speaking for you?” You breathe out, embarrassment making your skin hot at touch and you know he can feel it under his hand.

You are not sure if you wished for it, but it quickly reaches the surface. Your darkest desire of being taken over, filled with heat and pleasure…”Are you—“ You don’t even have to say it as he releases his hold on your throat, just to press his thumb on your bottom lip.

His touch is electrifying, addictive almost and your whole mind and body swirls for a moment. “A demon, that’s all what you need to know.” You almost nod your head in agreement, letting him trail his thumb across your lips, dangerously close to slipping in your warm mouth. You are puzzled by your own behavior, but you can’t fight it. The urge of him just coming a little closer to you, so you can feel more of him is strong. He can see it on your face and then there’s the subtle smile on his lips again, pouting and nodding at how much your body stops to shake. It certainly had an effect on him as wel, but the look on your tear stained face makes the hunger in him even bigger. “Or I could visit one of your friends…” He teases, though also too occupied by the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Just take me.”

You try to justify yourself, that you are doing this for them, but both of you know you want it — need it more. The fear is at the back of your head, forgotten almost replaced by the fuzzy feeling your mind is in. “Careful what you say.” He warns you again, maybe not to provoke him into doing something you didn’t want, but it flies over your head rather quickly.

His touch leaves you, but you don’t search for it as you are again left in small confusion. You know that you somehow wish for something specific, but you never thought it would come in this way. It makes you feel dirty, used already, but also it makes your nerve endings tingle. Desire for pleasure is normal for humans and you wonder how much he has seen them before. “Why me?” You ask him, surely you can’t be the only one on this night wishing.

“You intrigued me — your soul.” He says and his words hit you deeper than they should. “Calling for something to fill this hole in your chest. I can see into places that people so desperately try to keep hidden…tell me, are you hiding something Y/N?” You are taken back by the sound of your name, but you are aware that he must know you better than you know yourself.

“No…”

“Really…interesting.” The soft light creates shadows across his chiseled face, when he leans over you. “The moment I appeared…you didn’t seem so scared anymore. Does this idea of being used by a blood thirsty demon excites you?”

“No…”

The smile is tugging at your heart, a little eery in some way. “Then why can I smell your arousal from here?” You swallow roughly and you soon realize how much you have been pressing your thighs together. You can feel your slick coating your inner thighs, but the embarrassment doesn’t even reach you, because he looks like he drinks it all up. “I’m a demon of pleasure and desire, there’s no need to feel even an ounce of shame…” He is now reassuring you and his soothing voice is so different from the one you heard moments ago.

“But you’re a demon.” You state the now obvious and the statement should make you laugh in disbelief, but it only strikes you with a feeling you definitely feel shame about.

You feel the heat of his skin way before you feel the subtle touch of his hand on your exposed thigh. Goosebumps spread all over your body, swallowing your gasp at how pleasurable just this felt. “And a man still…” His fingers trail over the outer part of your thigh and your leg does jump away a little, but he was too addictive. “Doesn’t this idea of someone inhumanly powerful taking over your body and soul not excite you?” His voice is hushed and it feels so sweet in your ears.

You shake your head, though not doing anything to move away from him. “I won’t let you take my soul.” You can’t let him take the thing that makes you who you are.

“Maybe not…” Your eyes blink at him, head rolling back against the door as he straightens his back to tower over you. “But your body will be mine—“

You have now words, not even a sound leaves you, because you are left paralyzed when his hand squeezes roughly at the soft skin of thigh. Your wide eyes are staring into his, taken back by the bold move. He doesn’t have to hear any permission to touch you, it was all written right in front of him — all over you face, body and even your soul that you seem to be very sure that it will never be his. He has to wonder himself about how much this might be true, because you are responding to his touch like you have never been touched before. Just by his hand, playing with the string of your garter belt that held your white stockings leaves you gasping.

You are in trouble, you know, because you shouldn’t feel this much pleasure from the touch of a demon. However you already feel your body succumbing to him, just like he wanted. His hand travels under the thin layer of your skirt, dipping right into the mess you made of yourself. A sound leaves you unknowingly, head empty as he moves your thighs apart. The skin of your inner thighs is raw from how much you have been pressing your legs together, but you find yourself not caring anymore. With every breath you take, his hand trails higher and he bites his lip at how hot you feel against him.

His eyes travel across your face. Your eyes are barely open and he thinks he has never seen someone so away from their own mind by his moves. And obsessive, disgusting feeling washes over him, watching you sigh out in bliss as the tips of his fingers finally press over your covered clit. Your back arches a little, breasts pushing against your tight corset and he marvels over your barely covered body. “Who are you?” He asks you. You are dirty, thinking that wearing something like this in public is proper. His nature rages at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this.

You are slightly puzzled by his question, because the feeling of his hand right between your thighs is already too much for you to handle. “Christine…from Phantom of the Opera.” You response, eyes blinking open at him, just as he starts to form circles over your twitching clit.

“Adorable.”

Sharp moan flies out of your mouth, when he suddenly pulls the material of your underwear to the side. The air kisses your cunt, but it soon is warmed up by his fingers again. You are horrified of yourself right now. Why are you enjoying this? You have to remind yourself who and what is touching you, but you think nothing ever felt better. You have never made yourself and definitely not anyone else almost fall apart just by running your fingers through your folds. He is looking at you so intensely, you want to quiver. “Already this wet?” You can’t feel any shame in you and it is definite that he is making you feel like that. Should you be thankful? He is giving you sheer pleasure, circling your clit directly, after pushing the hood away from it. “Just like that, huh?” You don’t have any response for him, only whimpers of euphoria. “How long has it been?”

Your head rolls back, gasping at his touch. He knew your body better than you. Rubbing just at the perfect pace to make you crazy, pressing hard enough for your hips to buckle. Saliva gathers in your mouth, listening to the noises of your dripping center. You are so lost already that the only thing that makes you wake up is when his movements come to a stop. “What?” You say more because you didn’t want him to stop, looking back at him with big eyes and you realize he just asked you a question.

He leans closer to you, head falling on top of your shoulder so his lips are right beside your ear. He doesn’t really like to repeat himself, but being so responsive to him, he will let you do it once. “How long has it been since someone touched you?” With his question, his fingers travel down, right to your hole.

His breaths hit the sensitive skin of your neck and you have to swallow back a moan when his pointer finger just barely dips inside of you. “Long.” You confess in a whisper.

He smacks his lips, pressing them against your neck so you feel every word that comes from his mouth. “You poor thing, such a pity, but don’t worry—“ He is looking at you again, hand leaving you, making you whine a little and he can’t help but smirk a little. “I will make you feel things you have never felt before.”

With his promise, his hands find the back of your thighs, before he lifts you off your feet. You yelp from how smoothly he does it, pulling you up into his arms and you have no choice, but to wrap your legs around his waist. You are shocked by his strength, not used to being picked up so easily, staring at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t look away from you, even if he walks with you to your couch, not even when he lays you down on it. You feel special in this moment, drowning in the thought of him wanting you, but still his nature is not forgotten. He is made like this, he lives from the pleasure of the other.

Your head falls on the armrest, looking up at him looming over your body. He is already consuming you with his eyes alone and it feels delicious, but it sends a small sense of danger. His eyes flash red under the soft light, body clad in dark clothing perfectly contrasting with yours. Your hands are still in the air, fingers just barely grazing over his broad shoulder, but he soon leans closer to you, letting you hug him again. You feel small, vulnerable and weak, but you don’t want him to know he was right about you liking this. But, oh, trust me that he knows…

His hands grip the fabric of the couch, coming closer to you, placing his lower body right between your parted legs. Your hands seem to push him away from how bashful you have become and he surprises by not entirely rushing you. His head falls next to your neck again, slowly trailing his lips over the skin. Your breathing is formed into short gasps at his wet, soft kisses, eyes falling shut for a moment to savor the feeling. He can smell your perfume, sweat and even blood and it makes him groan quietly, kisses turning rougher, just to get closer to you. “Is this it? Is this all that you want?” You say, shivering still from his own sound.

His lips still for a second, but he doesn’t move away. “Is this what you want?” He now asks you.

You know, you don’t have to think much about your answer, but you still pause for a second. Your fingers twitch on his shoulders, legs closing around his and is it even necessary to give him an answer? The only thing you do is pull is head back down your neck, rolling your head back to give him more room, you are too embarrassed to say it out loud. He lets you, he is letting you have your way a little too much he thinks, but he can’t refuse the offer of your delicious neck.

His tongue licks a long stripe up your pulse, making you moan loudly when he starts to suck all over your neck. His bunny teeth nip lightly at your skin, fighting the argue to just bite down. He feels your nails digging into him, while he moans with you, enjoying just the taste of your skin like this. However the strong scent of your arousal is playing with his head, growling at the thought of eating your cunt. He can picture your face of ecstasy and shock all together. He would suck you all up, fuck you with his tongue and you coating his face in your pleasure.

You are shaking at how rough he nibs and sucks at your neck, the small fear of his sharp teeth piercing your quickly forming into pleasure. But before you can feel it, he releases himself from your neck to slide all the way down on the ground to kneel before you. His sharp movements always leave you in disbelief, your senses not quick enough to keep up with him. You pull yourself up to your elbows, watching him put his hands on your thighs, making your skirt pool at your waist.

Your legs are already trembling, knowing your pussy is left uncovered by his touches, but his attention is still fully on you. “White looks good on you, you almost make me feel bad that I will ruin it—“ The ‘you’ is silent, but the smirk is just a small reminder of what he is capable of.

When his eyes fall down to your cunt, he can’t help, but groan. He maybe is the one living of pleasure of the other, but what he is about to do to you is mostly for him. He doesn’t waste any time, he is inpatient and you as well as he can see from your fluttering hole. He doesn’t trail kisses over your thighs, nothing soft, nothing that you don’t want and when he pulls on your underwear, tearing the fabric he is sure that this is what you really want. It stings a little, the fabric snapping against you, before it is thrown away. His head fall between your legs so quickly your hips jump, clit hitting his nose and hard. Though even if you wanted to apologize, he didn’t seem to mind it at all, only letting his mouth fall open to suck at your folds.

“Oh…” Comes out of you, hand flying over your mouth from the feeling of his blazing, hot tongue running all over you. He spits and drools, saliva mixing with your slick and pooling right under your ass. Your hips keep jumping from the sheer and sharp pleasure. Your clit burns as it is caught between his lips. You are shocked by how quickly you feel yourself on the edge.

His head tilts back, releasing your bundle of nerves with a pop to run his tongue over your labia. Your clit twitches in need, mewing, just as he opens his eyes to stare right back at you. You can’t look away from him, from his red irises, his mouth wide open to catch every drop you give him. The pleasure and pain from his grip on your thighs forms into something else — something you haven’t felt before. You didn’t even know that just by someone going over your lips with their tongue felt so good. You swear you have never been this sensitive and he looks like that he knows exactly how to push you. He doesn’t need any guiding, nothing — he is a true man.

You can’t stop your sounds, the pleasure so good, you think you need to run away from it just to catch your breath. He doesn’t let you, his one hand pressing down against your lower stomach, preventing you from trashing around as his other goes to your hole. When his two fingers breaches you, a silent scream leaves you, your own hand flying to his to stop him, but you are already falling apart. Heat, waves of nonstop pleasure wash over you and your ears ring. Your mouth becomes dry, whimpers turning into cries, because you are sure you are going mad. You didn’t want it to end so soon, you wanted him to stop, to feel more.

Your whole body shakes wildly, the skin of your thighs jiggling around his head. You try to catch your breath while your orgasm is still washing over you, siting up to grasp at his hand. Your mouth is open, eyes now filled with tears, pleading and he watches you in your full glory. “I’m not stopping.” He says, words you so desperately needed to hear vibrating against you, fingers scissoring in you.

You immediately fall back down in relief and you can feel his crazed smile against you. The orgasm is none stopping. You don’t know if it’s because he isn’t stopping or if it was just him, but it is a out of body experience. Your hands press against your eyes, moaning wildly as his fingers pick up speed, tongue not stopping to move your clit up and down. He suck just perfectly, curl his fingers just right and doesn’t stop to take a breath nor to change position — he knows what he is doing. You push your legs up to your chest slightly, wrapping them around his head and the sight is to die for.

His eyebrows are furrowed, hand on your stomach searching for yours to put it in his hair. You instantly run your fingers through his soft hair, before tugging roughly and the deep growl that seems to make the whole room shake, sends you over the edge again. It is stronger, more burning and even painful and he eat it right up. You go silent again, eyes rolling into the back of your head and you pull his head with you also. You do hear him release himself from your messy, puffy cunt, just to watch you fall apart again. You don’t need him to help you ride out your orgasm, it was too good to not let it take over your whole being again.

The taste of you is on his tastebuds, licking at his lips hungrily, before crawling over your body. Your skin is hotter, almost like his and his cock pushes painfully against his pants at your drunk state. You looked beautiful…he needs to have you now. His hand moves your hair away from your sweaty face, making you finally open your blurry eyes. “Kiss me.” You say, hands pulling at the hairs on the back of his neck.

You haven’t seen much emotion on his face before, but this felt unnatural. It was just a split second, but you saw it — disappointment. “I can’t.” He says, shaking his head. His eyes held longing, but he makes you forget about this whole moment by kissing you on your collarbone.

You sigh, pressing your chest closer to him, just as he begins to trail down the valley of your breasts. “Can I at least have your name?” His lips wrap around the soft skin of your breast, sucking it in his mouth.

You hiss, pushing at his head. He sucked a little too hard, maybe telling you something by his action, but before you can question it he glances at you back again. “Minho.” He tells you his name, looking into your eyes as you repeat it softly back. You stare at each other for a moment, you moving around a little and just by it you graze over his bulge. Your leg stops in middle of his legs, gaze still unmoving, even if you press your thigh against him. It makes him hiss and you gasp a the sheer size of it. You can see your own desire reflecting in his eyes and he just couldn’t wait anymore.

His hands fly over to his belt, watching you watching his hands as he works to unbuckle his pants. You are holding your breath as he stands up to push down his pants. Your legs immediately press back together as you finally see him. Your lips parted, drooling almost at the size of his cock. Thick, long, veiny, a little curved just to hit those spots deep inside of you with an angry red mushroom tip covered in cum. You are breathing heavier from just the thought of him splitting you open and ruining you for everyone after him.

Minho is breathing through his nose to take in the smell of your emotions, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and when you sit up, pulling down your skirt, he marvels over the sight of your body covered just in corset and stockings. You looked heavenly funnily enough. When he pushes his shirt from his shoulders you sigh at his muscular body — he was simply perfect. “Turn around.” He demands, voice so low you almost do a double take and when you don’t do immediately as he says, he just does it for you.

He moves you down the couch, turning your body around so your face is pressed into the cushion. Your ass raises in instinct and it grates you a smack across your right cheek. You cry into the couch, the soft skin rippling under his eyes. Then it’s his cock, slapping against you, before laying it flat between your asscheeks. “Fuck, look at that, I’m gonna split this little pussy apart.” You moan back at him, already hazy from just him humping against you teasingly. “Think you can handle it? Oh, you will, all of it—“ He is basically talking to himself right now, already drunk on you.

You are a little concerned, you have never taken something so big, but the thought of him not fucking you dumb is making you whimper like a bitch in heat. You don’t even recognize yourself. You press your ass back at him and Minho only slaps you again, but he finally at that guides his cock to your entrance. The sight of his precum mixing with yours is sending him over the edge, not believing that you are letting him fuck you raw, even if he sees it in the back of your mind. It makes him pull your head back roughly, wanting to watch you crumble on his cock.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, seeing the wild look in his eyes, pretty lips forming into ‘O’ as he finally pushes his tip inside of you. Just that is already too much, but you subconsciously push your hips back at him, swallowing another inch. He lets you adjust, because the way he will fuck you — you will need it. With only hallway through you already feel full to the brim, him already pressing against your cervix, but he is determined to fit all in. He knows you can do it and just after few moments, your ass is finally perfectly flush with his pubic bone.

Your walls suck him right in, wet, warm and soft. He wonders if he is the one being enchanted right now. His hand trails over the string of your garter belt again, loving the way it digs into your ass from how much you arch for him. Minho leans over you again, making him press into you even deeper and he sharply exhale at his tip basically breaks your cervix. “Feel that?” His hand falls down to press at the bulge on your lower tummy. “I’m in your fucking stomach that’s how fucking deep I am—“

“M-Minho—“ He enjoys his name falling from your mouth so much that he accidentally pushes a little too hard against your stomach. To his surprise you only moan louder, hips pushing against him. An open wide smile stretches across his face, watching you move your ass against him.

Your movements are put into stop rather quickly as he pulls out, before pushing into you again with a deep, long thrust. Your mouth is wide open, drooling on the couch already. You feel an abnormal tingling sensation, with his every move of his and with everything that happened that led to this moment it felt worth it. Your pussy molds into a form of his cock, making him smoothly pick up his pace. His one leg on the couch and the other on the ground gives him leverage and with the first sharp thrust of his, you both moan, the sound perfectly mixing with the wet slaps of your skins.

It’s not soft or loving, it’s hard. cock pushing with every move even deeper into you if it’s possible. You are too far gone to do anything other than to take him, your own hand pressing against the bulge in your stomach. It’s sickening how much you enjoy feeling his cock run into you under your hand. Minho has to hiss with every trust in your swollen cunt, hands pinching at your ass and pulling at the strings digging into you. “So g-good— ah!” Your face buries back into the couch, when he snaps at the string, skin burning.

Minho is literally going mad, thrust so harsh, that the couch rocks a little under you both. You can’t believe how much you enjoy feeling pain mixed with pleasure just like he enjoys doing it. The sight of your ass bouncing, hands tearing the material under you and mostly your sounds — he knows that he has to have you someday again. His hand pulls at your hair again, not even missing a beat as he pulls you to his chest. You can’t hold yourself on your own and he helps you rather kindly, with his hand on your neck again, but now he is not being gentle. “Fucking look at you—“ He laughs at your fucked out face staring up at him and he knows he is not looking any better. “Ever thought you would enjoy a demon cock this much?” You choke around the hand on your throat, legs shaking under you. He needs to see more of you, all of you. So he quickly pull out of you, not missing a beat and turning you around to lay you on your back again. You can’t even grumble, because he is inside you back again and the view you have is better than you could’ve asked for.

You don’t say anything, when he rips through the front of your corset, tits spilling out and bouncing immediately with his none stop movements. He spits down right at your nipple, making you gasp at how sensitive it is, feeling his thumb smear the liquid all over you, marking you. Your own hands dig into his hard chest, droopy eyes catching his, before he goes down to your neck, now biting roughly. It makes you arch your back, his sharp teeth piercing you and it doesn’t even hurt half as much as you thought it would.

Moaning, Minho licks at the small drops of blood, eyes rolling back into his head at your sweet taste. Everything about you was so fucking sweet, he can’t believe his own luck right now. Your nipples catch on his, letting you hug him close to you and with the trembling in your legs, he knows you are nearing your orgasm again. “I-I am close—“ You can’t even voice out your words with his rapid moves, feeling yourself drip down on the couch. Your clit rubs deliciously over his pubic bone and with you walls spasming you can feel him twitching inside of you, knowing that he’s getting close too. You just need so desperately something to get you over the edge, something that would make this experience even better and soon those words are spilling out of you. “P-please….kiss me.” You whimper in his ear.

Minho pulls away from your neck, seeing small smear of your blood on those plump lips. “I-I can’t.” He repeats the same words to you and you can’t help, but cry.

“Why?”

“It will tie us together, a kiss will ties us together and you will have to be mine forever.”

He is loosing himself, never he had thought about kissing someone, but yours lips — so perfectly bitten and definitely sweet as every part of you are calling his name. You hear his words, you realize what he is saying, but why would any of you want to end this so soon?

“I want it, I truly want it, Minho—“ Your hands press against each side of his flushed face, his eyes wide, going between your eyes and lips, before he finally leans in.

The whole room around you seems to be set on fire around you, tongues tangling around each other. You taste yourself on his lips and mostly him. You are moaning into him, biting down on his lip, like he did to your neck and he groans lowly when your own teeth breach his skin, mixing your blood now with his. “I’m yours—“ You mumble between kisses, just as you fall apart on him, squeezing him. Minho can’t help, but smile into the kiss, hips stilling as his cock swells, twitching inside of you. He fills with his warm cum, not stopping at kissing you. He will be here every day and every night like this for you and for himself, for eternity, because he found something more pleasure than anything else he ever knew.

And that was you.

[agnesafterhours]

trophy | lee know. smut.

As team captain, your boyfriend has his priorities straight. Minho doesn't take neither his training nor role lightly, and, sometimes, you like to tap into this inflexible side of his. (3.7k words)

CONTENT: smut, dom!minho but he's more persuasive than physically controlling, brat!reader, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, slight degradation kink. minors and empty blogs do not interact.

© all rights reserved. i do not allow reposting and/or translations of my work.

You shouldn't get under Minho's skin when he's training, you know that. The hurried whispers of his teammates leaving the field after matches told you this much. But still, it feels a bit unfair of him to make you sit here, after a whole game, having to watch as he leads his team through a “just, like, thirty minutes?” practice. Although annoyed, you understand why he's so hung up on practicing as much as possible—winning this game meant going to the finals, after all. You knew how much this meant to Minho, so you tried your best to be patient whilst sitting on the bleachers.  

Even though you're in a bit of a hurry to get him home, watching Minho play earlier makes it hard to deny that the field is his element, leading the team is his calling. You were completely stunned as you watched your boyfriend play—this being the first game of his you saw which you were actually rooting for his team. It was a bit of a rascal when the team captain introduced the cheerleader of their rivalling team as his girlfriend, but his mates eventually got over it. 

Your relationship with Minho was fun. You were together for a couple months and the freshness and excitement of it all never failed to make your skin tingle each time he looked at you in a certain way. Like the look he's giving you right now—chin up, eyes down, head slightly tilted.  

“I told you to wait.” His uniform's shoulder pads make him look even more intimidating, the bright spotlights behind him turning the white material almost blinding—his shadow casting on you. 

“I have been waiting! It's been like an hour, Min! And you said you'd take thirty minutes…” You hope a slight pout would help your case and soften his heart, but he simply turns his focus to the field for a moment, before looking back at you. Minho takes a few steps closer.  

“What’re you so eager to go home for?” He asks, voice a bit quieter. There's no need to speak this lowly when he's so close, especially when his teammates are so far away and everyone else has gone home by now—but you'll take advantage of whatever you can get from him. Even if it's just the feeling of his eyes on you. 

You look away, arms crossing under your chest as he smirks.  

“What? Cat got your tongue so early on, baby? Speak up.” 

“I'll tell you when we get in the car.” 

His eyebrows furrow. “I don't wanna wait ‘til we get in the car.” 

“Well, then maybe you should hurry.” You turn around, eyes lingering on him for a moment before you make your way to the parking lot. 

Your nerves make you jump a little when you hear Minho shout to his team they're wrapping up the practice—the parking lot getting darker and darker with the distance you put between yourself and the field's spotlights, a cool breeze awakening shivers up your arms as the night hugged you tighter and tighter. You (and the butterflies on your stomach) wouldn't settle until you felt Minho's presence. But you don't wait for him to catch up to you. You don't look back. 

The few minutes you sit in the car feel like hours, your phone's screen lighting up with a notification from your boyfriend finally seizing the constant checkups of your hair and gloss. 

min🖤: locker room  

You: why  im waiting for u  in the car 

min🖤: locker room:)  im waiting  

You: ive been waiting for longer  what if i just dont go 

You slam the car door shut, making a bee line to his location. 

min🖤: if you dont come you wont get what you want when we get home 

You: whatever 

The building's back door shuts loudly behind you.  

min🖤:  if you dont come ur gonna have made me end practice for nothing  

You: idc  ur already mad anyway  

You reach the locker room and as soon as your hand turns the door handle, you feel two hands on your hips pressing your back to the cold metal. 

Minho's tongue is in your mouth before you can even notice he kissed you, the cold air seeping through the open windows contrasting his warm palms on your skin. You're covered in shivers as he controls the kiss—one palm running up your chest to your neck until he reaches the back of your head, tilting it as he pleases.  

“Not mad enough to use numbing cream on you.” The bottle sits menacingly on the wooden bench. He spreads your legs with his thigh, pressing against your core. “So don't push me.” 

You're completely helpless, hands grabbing fistfuls of his uniform as he lightly pulls the hair on your nape every now and again—his mouth latching desperately onto yours. The room is dark, the campus so empty it almost feels like you're in a different dimension, completely by yourselves. Air fills your lungs for the first time in a while—you didn't realize you were that breathless until gasps fill the room as he kisses your neck. 

“I didn't even do anything.” He leaves a harsh bite at your words, sucking on the bruise a moment after. “Ah- I just wanted to congratulate you for winning-” 

“If you wanted to congratulate me”, his voice drips with sarcasm, “you would've sat there and wait for me to finish practice.” Minho hastily pulls the front of your tank top above your chest, not bothering to fully strip you out of it before his hand reaches under your bra, massaging your breast. “You would've been patient until I had the time to bring my pretty little trophy home, hm?” 

Air hitches in your throat when he rips your bra open, the cloth falling to the floor. You struggle through heavy breathing to talk back as he licks his thumb and brings it to your nipple. “I'm not just some trophy.” 

“You're not? What are you, then?” His lips leave your neck so he can look you in the eye, finally allowing to rest for a bit. You don't like the distance. 

You lean your head forward, chasing his smirking lips as he pushes you back against the lockers—the shuffling metal sounds strident in the dead quiet. Minho tilts his head back a bit, rejecting your kiss. “You didn't answer me.” 

“Because I wanna fucking kiss you!” You whine through gritted teeth, leaning towards him one more time. 

The grip he has on your hair stops you once again, but this time, he gets so close his lips touch yours when he whispers. “Tell me what you are, baby. ‘Cause sometimes you act like you're just a desperate little hole for me to fill." 

Minho's dilated pupils stare right into your soul. Your eyes shake but you don't look away. “I'm your fucking girlfriend. It's not my fault you're not good enough of a fuck that I'm never satisfied.” 

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth.  

You see, Minho wasn't the type to growl his demands and manhandle you into whatever position he wants—he always tries reasoning with you. He lets you know what it is he would like to do, and if you don't comply, he'd show you why that was the best option for you in the first place. Minho gets off on proving he knows better, showing how he knows what's best for you. 

He takes a small step back, a click of his tongue letting you know his disappointment. “So I don't fuck you right? Okay.”  

“I just- I didn't mean-” 

“No, you're right, you're right. That's why I never make you come, right?” His sarcastic voice coming out a little bit breathless as he shoves your shorts and underwear down your legs, eyes fix on yours. You kick the clothes to the side with trembling legs, bambi eyes looking up at him. 

You didn't exactly know what the outcome of your stubbornness would be, but you did not expect Minho's knees to buckle—his gaze dead set on yours as he reached the ground.  

Suddenly, your boyfriend grabs your hand and latches it to the hair on the back of his head.  

“Why don't you fucking teach me then?” He speaks through gritted teeth, throwing your right leg over his shoulder pad—the unusual angle giving him all the access he needed and leaving you much more exposed.  

Unhappy with how limp your hand stayed in his hair, Minho grabs it once more, pushing himself against your core. 

“Come on, baby.” He mumbles, leaving wet kisses over your outer labia. When he looks up, resting his chin on the skin under your bellybutton, the dim light coming from the window makes his profile glow blue—pearly white grin hypnotizing you. Minho looked like an incubus—eager to suck the life out of you. “Where's your attitude, hmm? Show me what you like.” 

You can see your bare chest heaving with each breath as you look down at him. “Fin... Fingers?” 

He tilts his head to the side, big eyes full of mischief. “Fingers? You're asking?” 

“I… I don't-” 

“You don't know? Of course you do. You're just not thinking straight. Maybe it's stress, right? ‘Cause I'm not good enough?” Without a warning, the tip of his tongue lightly zigzags up and down your pussy. Up, and down again—avoiding your clit each time.  

“You see,” he says, letting his saliva mix with your arousal, “if I use my fingers now, you'll come too fast.” Minho leaves a long peck on your core. “I know that's what you want, but what about dragging it out a little bit? I think you'd like it better.” He flattens his tongue and your body squirms as he licks up. “But I mean, I wouldn't know.” 

Minho's being painfully annoying, but you deserve it. He takes his time dragging his tongue through your core, lapping your arousal and smearing it on your cunt—making your legs shake every now and again. His right hand keeps your squirming hips still as the left one slowly caresses it's way up your body, until he reaches your chest.  

He's looking up at you the entire time, watching every single twitch and reaction to the flow of his tongue on you. When he finally latches onto your clit, you swear you lose your mind a little. Your hips stutter and he follows you promptly, big brown eyes burning through you. The sight of Minho on his knees being illuminated by the moonlight is so ethereal it's almost haunting, and at that moment, you know you'll never really forget this view—you'll never forget how he's making you feel. He really is like a incubus in a way, imprinting his mark on the back of your mind forever. 

Impulsiveness takes over and you force your hips forward, the hand in the back of your boyfriend's head thrusting him against your cunt. Minho's eyes turn impossibly darker, his smirk much more noticeable than before. When he closes his eyes and his eyebrows furrow, you already know you're gone—instincts making you hold onto his locks harsher than ever. 

The soft sucking turns progressively rougher, your eyes squeeze shut as his tongue draws figure-eights on your clit very softly in contrast to how quickly his lips are working the same nerve. 

When your eyes start to water from how overwhelmed you feel, the telltale begins. As soon as your body starts shaking and your hips squirm away from his hold, you open your eyes to look at him just in time to watch as he completely removes himself off of you.  

Your heart drops, hot tears running down your shamed cheeks as you wobble a bit, trying to find balance without his hands on your hips. 

“Fuck, can you even feel anything, baby?” You feel the ghost of gentle fingertips on your labia, following up and down the slit. 

You can tell through your watery eyesight and the poor-lit room that he's now paying attention to the way his fingers play with your cunt, smirk wiped clean off his voice as he watches your arousal coat his fingers. “If I try something like this-” He gently pushes his ring and middle fingers inside you, slowly curling the tip of his fingers in come-hither motion, low voice filling up the emptiness, “does it feel good?” 

Does it feel good? You're long, long gone. Minho's voice sounds like it's coming from inside your head, the stimulation feels like it reflects in white orbits in your vision. You can no longer force yourself to open your eyes—it's for the better, anyway. You'd probably pass out if you caught a glimpse of his pretty brown eyes by now.  

Does it feel good? You don't remember how you got yourself in this situation—you don't even have the brain power to form a phrase involving anything but religious chants of his name. You've become nothing but a warm body for Minho to touch and use as he pleases, you'd be satisfied with the smallest of touch he'd be kind enough to reach for.  

His pouty lips find your clit again and suddenly, fireworks start setting off in your insides way too fast. Your stomach muscles contract in a way that's entirely new for you and you feel like you'll fall to the floor if he doesn't support all your weight. Your start to feel your throat straining, the constant whining suddenly getting higher. Your eyes are shut so tightly you can see blobs of colour behind your pitch-black eyelids. You think you're out of it for a little bit, but you can still hear his voice. 

“Yeah, I don't think I'm doing it right.” The raspiness of his tone almost puts you to sleep—his fingers are still inside you, now pumping back and forth, very slowly. You can hear the embarrassingly loud gushing sound of his fingers moving inside you, and you open your eyes to find your boyfriend's face and chest covered in your arousal. 

“I, I-” You don't know exactly what you have to say, but his loving eyes and the kiss he pressed to your thigh were not helping you find it out. 

“You ruined my fucking jersey.” His lopsided smile makes your breath hitch. 

“Need you.” 

He tilts his head again. “Do you? Really?” 

Your head is heavy as you nod, and you try your best to not lose focus. You know what he needs to hear to finally drop the act, and you know you should give in before your body gives out completely, but there's a little twisted voice inside your head asking how far you can take this—your body seems to be addicted to the thrill, moans immediately spilling out your lips when his fingers pick up pace. 

“You're not satisfied?” He asks, voice sugary sweet. His pouty lips pepper quick pecks on your inner thigh, expectant eyes looking up at you. “I’m not sure I can help you, though. I mean, if it doesn’t feel good it’ll just get painful at some point.” 

You stutter your words through a strained voice. “I’ll let you know if it does.” It takes your entire being to attempt to sound demanding. “We can keep going for now.” 

An amused countenance takes over his sharp features. “Oh, we can? Alright, ma’am. Thank you so much for letting me know.” He stands up, and the sudden shift in atmosphere rising goosebumps on your skin as he now looks down on you. 

Minho stands tall before you, the lighting no longer illuminating his doll-like eyes—shadows now cover most of his face, long hair hiding his gaze. As if he can hear your heartbeat picking up pace, he gets close to whisper against your lips, eyes hazy as he looks down at you. “I think we gotta stretch you out a bit more, hmm? If it didn't feel good, you're probably still tight.” 

Good God, you hate this man. You know what he’s trying to get out of you—you’re just not sure if you want to give him the satisfaction yet.  

So, you look up at him with the sweetest eyes you can possibly muster. “Don’t worry, bunny. You’re not that big.” 

He stares at you for a few seconds, the smile on his lips doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bench. On your back.” 

Although it seems you’ve worn his patience thin, you stare back. The cogs in your brain working their full capacity trying to figure out a way to make his life a bit harder. A disappointed sigh leaves his lips as he walks towards his locker, looking for his stuff to leave. 

As always, his action is effective. Minho really doesn’t need much to convince you to give in, after all, you know what you’ll get when you do. 

Silence fills the room as you discard your shirt all the way and lay on the bench, legs bent at the knees, heels resting on the cool surface. Anxiety bubbles under your sensitive skin when you hear Minho taking off his clothes. You rest you weight on your elbows to watch—his jersey was gone when you got to look at him, shoulder pads following suit. 

“What made you change your mind?” He opted to leave his white tank top on as he unbuckles his belt, one knee—supported by the bench—between your legs. The moonlight now shining entirely on him.  

“Don't like the emptiness…” Your voice trails off, and you don't mind staring shamelessly as he puts on a little show for you—one hand on your knee and running down your thigh, the other stroking his cock.  

He scoffs, “You say shit like this but doesn't like it when I say you act like a hole.” He taps his tip on your clit, earning a loud whine from you. “Make up your mind, bunny.” 

Minho stays kneeled before you, the cloth of his tank top so thin you could make out the lines of his chest and abs—the muscles on his pale arms shining iridescent in the lighting. 

Your boyfriend moved his hips, slowly grinding over your slit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head without much resistance, mouth watering with each nudge of his tip to your clit. “Whatever you said about me not being too big…” He leans down to leave a quick peck on your lips. “Keep that in mind.” 

With absolutely no warning and much faster than your brain would've been able to process, Minho buries himself as deep as he possibly can inside of you. He lifts your hips off the bench with ease, sitting on his heels—his hold on you so tight you bounced back against him with each thrust of his.  

The stamina of the man above you is unfaltering. You can't do much besides watch him: his biceps flex to support the weight of your hips every time he slams you back on his cock, veins prominent on his arms. Minho's face and neck are covered in the prettiest shade of pink—his wide chest, blushed with the same colour, is struggling with each breath he takes. The moonlight highlights the droplets of sweat sliding down his neck, and he can't seem to decide whether he wants to throw his head back or look down at where your hips align. 

Keeping himself together is the hardest when Minho looks down at you. He got his pretty girl all splayed out for him; her eyebrows furrowed in utter pleasure as the whiniest sounds constantly pour out of her pouty lips. The way your body reacts to him is hypnotic—it's so fun for him, how every little thing he does makes your eyes roll back. The power trip he gets when he watches your skin shiver wherever his hands touch is better than anything he's ever experienced. All because it's you. Because he gets you to feel like this. The fact you're so drunk on Minho gets him even more addicted to the feeling of your body shaking under him. So when your hips suddenly spring back to life rolling desperately against his and Minho's name seems to be the only coherent thought your brain can formulate, his desire increases tenfold. 

You have no control over how loud your moans or the smack of Minho's hips against yours are. He lowers you back on the bench and is fully above you in the blink of an eye—holding your face as he kisses you so deeply you struggle to keep up. His thrust become less timed but continue as deep as they were. Minho throws his head back, moaning loudly, but quickly brings his gaze back to your lips. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips touching yours as he whispers. 

“Come on, baby. You know how much I love to feel you coming around me. Be good.” 

Be good, be good. Of course you want to be good. When his lips touch yours again, euphoria explodes inside of you. Your eyes being squeezed shut seem to enhance your other senses a bit—you feel every inch of Minho's cock grinding inside you, his hands burning hot where they touch, his loud moans and the wetness spattering between your legs being the only things crystal clear in your cloudy mind.  

“Holy shit, fuck. I'm close, I'm so close.” He pants, face buried in your neck.  

Your weak hands gently soothe his back, you mindlessly mumble your words, “Wanna feel you coming inside me, love. Want it so bad.” 

His strong arms wrap around your waist when he comes, cock buried deep inside of you. Minho shudders with each movement of your hands against his skin, as you now gently scratch his back under his tank top. It feels like a long time has passed until he breaks the silence. 

“We're taking the numbing cream home, by the way.” He gets his face off your neck and rests his weight on his elbows. His right hand cups your jaw, thumb playing with your drooled lips. “You're not done paying for that attitude.”

[adelusionforyourthoughts]

lee know comforts you after a break up (plus a little more)

tw: swearing, reader mentions their ex taking anger out them, breaking up, throwing stuff at reader (doesn’t hit them), minho threatening their ex

an: THREE DAYS? BACK TO BACK? i know, i’m a miracle worker. i’m hoping to keep up this writing streak now that i actually have ideas and plans for writing!

if you like what you see and want to read more of it, you can find my masterlist here!

and as always, don’t be a stranger!

[stayinlimbo]

Limits

pairing: lee minho x gn!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, somewhat suggestive, allusions to sexual activities (?), hurt/comfort, mc is overwhelmed and showcases such symptoms as a result, self-indulgent af because i can word count: ~0.5k note:  this stuff can be scary, so remember that communication and consent are the sexiest things in a relationship ♡

As soon as your head hits the pillow, Minho knows something is different. Wrong. 

Your once fervent kisses slow, lips barely meeting to brush up against his. Wandering touches become hesitant from underneath him, your hands instead settling to stiffly drape over his shoulders. Your chest raises rapidly, pressing against him in short bursts, and Minho’s hand dancing along the hem of your shirt halts.

Releasing the fabric, he quickly leans back until he can see your face, carefully hovering over your taut form. And what he sees makes his heart plummet to the depths of his stomach. Wide, shifting eyes flit around the room, avoiding his concerned stare. You’re on the brink of hyperventilating, sucking in shallow breaths sure to make your lungs burn in exertion. Glistening tears pooling in your eyes catch the bedroom’s soft lighting, and Minho is frozen, unable to tear his gaze away and ask what is happening until you start subtly pushing against him.  

Snapping back into reality, Minho scrambles off you, barely noticing your arms fall limply to the bed, and lies on his side in the space beside you. “Hey, hey, shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Minho soothes, bringing a hand up to tenderly cup your cheek. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hoping the touch will comfort you, even if only the slightest, as his eyes hurriedly scan your body. His heart is beating out of his chest and the growing lump in his throat isn't helping when he doesn’t find anything irregular except the love bites he left on exposed skin. “What’s wrong?”

You snap your gaze up and finally meet his worried one. The rise and fall of your chest slows ever so slightly. “I don’t know,” you breathe, rushing your next words. “Can you hold me for a minute?”

“Of course.” Minho tucks his arm underneath you and wraps the other around your waist, pulling you into his chest. His fingertips lightly scratch the base of your neck as your shaking body relaxes in his embrace. You hide your face in his neck, immediately nuzzling further as if you’ve finally returned home—as if he was your sanctuary from the rest of the world. Minutes pass, and he feels the tension slowly leave your body. Your breathing gradually steadies, small puffs of air tickling his neck. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why, but I just can’t do it right now,” you murmur, lips grazing his skin. 

Minho stills, furrowing his brows before gently grasping your shoulder and pulling you back to look at him. “Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry for telling me how you feel,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

He watches you nod in response but doesn’t break his stare.

“Okay,” you say.

Minho presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and gathers you in his arms again. “Good.”

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist : @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn @inlovewithstraykids @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21

@hwangism143 @feelikecinderella @celebration88 @ssickmagnolia8

[charlieg1rl]

⤜ ˚. ✦ ⸝⸝ ֙⋆ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 ᳝ › 𓈒 ୨.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 ?

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐨𝐭𝟖 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟎.𝟕𝐤

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧

• Always on alert: Chan constantly checks up on you, even if it’s just to see how your day’s going. He makes sure you’re okay and genuinely cares about your well-being.

• Gentle yet firm boundaries: If someone tries to make you uncomfortable, Chan steps in with a quiet but assertive presence. He’s not confrontational, but his stance and words make it clear he won’t let anyone disrespect you.

• Late-night talks: He often stays up late just to talk things through if something’s bothering you. Chan’s the type who reassures you with words of encouragement and deep conversations.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨

• Subtle guardian: Minho isn’t overly vocal about his protectiveness, but he’s very observant. He’ll notice if someone’s acting suspiciously around you or if you seem uneasy, and he’ll handle it without making a scene.

• Physical boundaries: If you’re uncomfortable in crowded places, he subtly shields you, standing close and giving off a silent “don’t mess with us” vibe. He’s also the type to hold your hand tightly, like he’s anchoring you.

• Supportive presence: Even though he prefers you staying out of the public eye, he’s there to defend you against any negativity you might face, especially from people who try to intrude.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧

• Assertive protector: Changbin isn’t afraid to confront people who cross the line. He’ll be vocal if someone is disrespectful, always ready to stand up for you.

• Physical comfort: He’s the type to keep an arm around you in busy or overwhelming situations, creating a protective bubble. It’s almost second nature to him.

• Always encouraging: He motivates you to be strong and resilient, yet he’ll always have your back, reminding you that he’s there if you need him.

𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

• Empathetic approach: Hyunjin is highly attuned to your emotions. If you’re feeling down or uncomfortable, he’s quick to notice and offer comfort, whether through kind words, soft touches, or just being there.

• Gentle reassurances: He’s more about comforting you than being overly protective. He’ll hold your hand, pull you closer, and whisper sweet words to help you feel secure.

• Defends your honor: If anyone dares to say something negative about you, Hyunjin won’t hold back in defending you, even if it means pulling them aside for a firm talk.

𝐇𝐚𝐧

• Casual protector: Jisung has a playful way of protecting you, using humor to defuse tense situations. He’ll joke around, making you laugh to ease your anxiety.

• Hiding his seriousness: Although he’s usually laid-back, if anyone crosses a line, he’ll drop his playful demeanor and confront the situation head-on.

• Comforting distraction: When you’re upset, he distracts you by doing something silly or taking you somewhere fun to cheer you up, reminding you of the good times.

𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱

• Soft protector: Felix is more of a comforting presence than an aggressive protector. He uses his words and gestures to make sure you feel safe.

• Always checking in: He’ll frequently ask if you’re okay, especially in public places or unfamiliar environments. Felix is the type to keep an eye on you, subtly ensuring you’re comfortable.

• Loyal defender: If someone ever says anything hurtful or rude about you, his soft voice turns firm as he calmly addresses the issue. He doesn’t need to raise his voice; his loyalty and love are clear.

𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧

• Respectful and firm: Seungmin won’t make a scene, but he knows how to command respect. If someone’s bothering you, he’s quick to politely, yet firmly, set boundaries.

• Understated comfort: He prefers to be a steady, calm presence, letting you lean on him without smothering you. Seungmin trusts that you can handle yourself but is always there if you need him.

• Gentle reminders: He reminds you to take care of yourself, subtly checking in and offering support without overwhelming you.

𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧

• Warm: Jeongin always looks out for you, particularly when you’re in unfamiliar places. He’ll subtly keep you close and make sure you’re comfortable.

• Assertive: Though typically sweet and caring, he doesn’t shy away from confrontation if someone makes you uncomfortable. He’ll step up and stand his ground to defend you.

• Lighthearted: Like Jisung, he has a playful side and uses humor to keep you at ease. If things get tense, he’ll try to lighten the mood with a joke or a warm hug.

tags: @omgsecretsecret, @therealmsbahng, @amarecerasus, @estella-novella

[loserlvrss]

𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 l. minho ( 이민호 )

synopsis | minho will always take care of who he loves, and you love that.

pairing : lee minho x fem!reader genre : drabble, domestic fluff warnings : mentions of being sick & food, skinship word count : 0.6k authors note : i know u know lee know btw

“just sit down,” your boyfriend was pushing you into the barstool beside the kitchen island.

your arms crossed over your front, features pouting. “you know, minho, i’m sick, not useless.” you exaggerated with your hands, swinging them out beside you. “i can—i can, i don’t know, cut up the carrot or something!”

he smiled adoringly at you, like one would a cute animal or small child, and shook his head. “what kind of chef boyfriend would i be if i made you do the work?”

you rolled your eyes, knowing that it was ultimately useless to argue with the lee minho; he’d get what he wanted in the end. and frankly, you weren’t good at cooking. that’s why you two worked so well, he had his little hobby to destress and you were always fed. a win-win.

so, when you woke up in the middle of the night with a stomach ache, only sleeping a couple hours after that, he was quick to jump into the kitchen. he wanted to make you something his mom would make when he was sick as a kid—you found the gesture sickeningly sweet. he must really love you, you thought.

he’d gotten started in silence. usually he’d let you talk about everything and nothing at the same time, but he’d never pry if you didn’t feel like it. and, today must’ve been one of those days, as you just watched with closed lips.

he looked so beyond good when he cooked—arguably better than the food. and nothing was more attractive than his desire to take care of you. he didn’t even go back to sleep until he knew you were okay, trailing you into the bathroom and getting you medicine before you even asked. he made sure you were warm and properly cuddled under the blankets (in his arms), rubbing your back until peacefully off in dreamland.

honestly, you owe those couple of hours to him.

“hey, minho?” the silence was finally broken, your boyfriend stopping all his movements for a second and looking at you. his eyebrows rose in a non-verbal approval to go on and ask. “i know we’re already dating, but i have a big crush on you. i just thought you should know.”

he huffed out a laugh, “is that so?”

“yeah, in case you want to do anything with that knowledge.” you admitted innocently, “like marriage or something.”

“i plan on it, love.”

you made a face, something between disbelief, mock-disgust and blushing. “if you were over here i’d kiss you… thrice.”

he eyed you suspiciously, “you just didn’t want to say twice ‘cause then i’d start dancing to alcohol free.”

“maybe,” you joked, getting from your chair and making your way around the counter. he pretended to be offended, steadily chopping up the various vegetables again, and ignoring you. “you know i love your one-man show, baby.”

he smirked slightly—though you couldn’t see—but still was childishly giving you the silent treatment. you pleaded, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his clothed spine once, before pressing your cheek to it. “there’s literally no one else i’d rather listen to sing red velvet while they shower.”

“i knew you listened, weirdo.” he chuckled, “if you wanted me to sing to you, i would, you don’t have to creep around.”

you lightly squeezed, “oh, shut up.”

and then suddenly he burst out into song, scaring you, but then sending you into a fit of giggles as the choreography soon followed; the knife safely out of his grip.

you watched in awe of his playfulness, disguised by straight lips and lidded eyes. you really couldn’t read a book by its cover, you thought, because this stupidly-handsome book always knew how to make you feel better.

please reblog and like <3 comments are appreciated ! thank you 4 reading © loserlvrss 2024 all rights reserved. 

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back to masterlist !

[sunboki]

— HELLION INN. a Stray Kids fiction

🌖 : Lee Minho x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. dystopian! au, enemies to lovers, monster! au, apocalypse! au, “we have to get along to survive” au, angst, high stakes

WORD COUNT. 10k ⭑ 50min read

WARNINGS. gory descriptions, cursing, descriptive violence, implied intercourse, death, a dubcon kiss, talk of vomit/vomiting, lots of mentions of death, one mention of k*lling oneself, parasites, murder, inclusion of fire, injury, usage of guns, injury, knives, reader and minho are “hunted”, mature themes

AUG'S NOTES. it’s finished! i wanted to cry (out of happiness!!) closing the last part :) i truly love this piece, and, though it certainly isn’t all too lovey dovey compared to alternative fics of mine, i was so incredibly fortunate to be able to write for themes i adore! i hope my enthusiasm was able to be conveyed in the subject of monsters/apocalyptic au’s!! please enjoy<3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Receiving an ominous letter in the mail, a monster invades Seoul minutes later, carrying an uncanny sense of smell despite its blindness. Countless people have been slaughtered already, and with your letter as the only meager explanation to this madness, you find your feet leading towards the one place it said was safe: Hellion Inn.

or alternatively :

Minho won’t let you die. Not if it means letting this Monster get him or hell’s dawning itself. You’re going to survive. Together.

Run, something is coming. Go to Hellion Inn, you’ll be safe there.

Something? What is something? A terrorist attack? War?

Never had such a letter arrived at your doorstep other than this Tuesday, with the morning sunlight peeking through half-opened blinds casting your pajama-clad frame in its cascades.

And again, you reread and reread, questions raging in a distorted frenzy amidst your once just-wakening mind. 

Little were you aware what would come. What already roamed Seoul’s streets, approaching closer, closer. 

One objective resides in too many possibilities. 

Find Hellion Inn. 

.

.

.

Stuffing the letter in your pocket serves as the most sensible solution while you go over your options. If you didn’t have a clue about what dishes would be cooked, you’d check the ingredients first.

And yet, upon turning on the TV, you find your meal already served. 

On a platter, dripping with blood.

“This just in, an unidentifiable entity is making its way through Seoul in a rampage. The creature is highly dangerous. It appears to lack vision, and speculation has deemed it relies upon its smell to discern other beings. The creature has not been detained at this time. Under no circumstances should citizens leave their residences, and in the case you’re on the street, please evacuate to the nearest shelter immediately. Further information will be released.”

Your blood runs frigidly cold, enough you swear you could’ve turned to ice.

All of a sudden, war or a terrorist attack doesn’t sound nearly as daunting as before.

A monster. Ruthless, bloodthirsty. 

Monster. 

Instantaneously are news sites everywhere exploding, posting footage, pictures, and accounts of the creature each second. 

More and more and more until-

It all goes dark, your home plunged into a black abyss meagerly sustained by the sun’s rays, phone in hand ultimately powering off. 

Electricity down. Fully.

This isn’t like a usual predicament of a public threat, not something you’re prepared for, nor something anyone was prepared for. There’s no drill for a monster, no tsunami shelter or high rise building to reside upon. 

Was it obliviousness? Or were you all simply sheep to a ravaging wolf?

The latter seemed most convincing.

An exhale. No, a growl is what breaks your train of thought. Like the chuff of a tiger, curdling in its throat. 

Above. 

You can’t even bring yourself to move, can’t bear to breathe in fear you’d give yourself away as a shadow covers that once hopeful sunlight.

No shadow, but a thing. A monster. 

How did it get here so fast? How.. how the hell is this happening?

The sound of tiles shifting on your roof makes your fingers twitch, eyes stuck wide. 

The worlds apex predators turned into the prey. 

Each pound of your heart lies evident in ringing ears, listening to those low, horrendous gurgles, repeating that same chuff before it shifts again.

Again and again, and you’re unmoving.

Leave. Run. Anything. 

Yet, you can’t move a muscle, glued in place.

Until you do, and your legs act before you can process a thing. Grabbing for items, whatever it may be. Mind unable to process in its frantic state.

No. No.

A plea as your hand wraps around the doorknob, beginning down the apartment complex’s stairs in rapid descent, listening to the slow growls of the creature.

Don’t look behind, just go.

A mistake you find yourself making even when a life is on the line.

Your life is on the line.

And when you spare that single glimpse, murky lifeless eyes stare blindly back at you, bulging from its skull as if they never were intended to be there. Skin a hallowed, fleshy tone — ligaments hung awry. 

Disorderly, distasteful. If you look close enough, you swear you could’ve seen a beating heart, watched the oxygen cells rush through a pumping bloodstream. 

Gaping jaws hold copious teeth, ant-like incisors residing on either side of a ceaselessly smiling mouth, the corners of what appears to be lips ascending all the way up to nonexistent ears. 

Four legs, two antennae atop its head. At least two times the size of a human.

Horrific.

Never had such a thing appeared so terrifying.

With the letter clutched in one hand and your powerless phone in another do you run, praying that nonexistent vision truly is nonexistent.

Well, until a car alarm begins to ring, and you feel your stomach climb to your throat simultaneously.

Because it twitches. Not even a glance-sort of reaction. The entirety of whatever neck that monster hones twitches to look at you with a nausea-worthy crack! of its ligaments. Those jaws parted, a flattened nose breathing in.

And then it lurches, and you don’t think you’ve ever ran as fast as you did now.

Far, far. As far as you can go. 

It’s futile listening to gargled cries for help amongst rubble, the reaching of hands for your feet you can’t even spare a moment for as those scraping claws continue their perilous dance after you, scavenging on people as they go. 

So the second an intact person comes into view—a boy, looking about your age (and freakishly calm at that) with fluffy hair and rounded cheeks retaining such youth—you’re racing ahead before you can even think, ramming through those convenience store doors in a flurry of panic and fear.

“Monster— Monster- there’s a monster we have to go-“

“Do you like grilled cheese?” He mumbles, and you wonder if he’s talking to himself or you, no less asking such a question during this downright apocalypse.

“No, no there is—“ A shriek pierces the air in the distance, the clutter of debris alerting the monster’s proximity.

You, in a frantic attempt to redirect his attention, place either hand on his shoulders.

“A monster. There’s a monster out there and if we don’t hide, it’s going to kill us.” 

The boy licks his lips, cocking a contemplative brow before looking toward the freezer section. 

“Freezer?”

At this point the creature might as well be turning the corner, and you don’t need to respond for either of you to go running as fast as your legs will carry you, stuffing yourselves into the biting cold just as the bells above the entrance door ring.

Scariest part is this customer is intelligent enough to open doors.

This customer isn’t human. 

Like slow-motion you hear it. The pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, the lack of air in such a tight space, the monster’s rumbling.

Your hidden counterpart lodged himself into a freezer opposite to you, eyes squeezed shut the nearer clicking footsteps on tile sounded.

Click.

Click.

Click.

You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you open them, met with the monster’s face, hundreds of razor-sharp teeth lining its mouth, stretched into that same, chilling smile while it stares at you through the glass.

It can’t see you. It can’t see you. It can’t see you, You internally plead like a mantra, suffocating on the scream rising in your throat.

The loud clanging of a soup can the boy throws has the creature’s disfigured face whipping around, and you wordlessly communicate through mere terrified-eye-contact what either of you are thinking:

Run.

Without conscious you go flying, ramming past discarded groceries and tormented bodies into Seoul’s open roadway, void of any vehicle whatsoever.

Except for one.  

It’s a tow truck, key still lodged into the ignition, window broken with streaks of blood lining the door where a middle-aged man’s body had been dragged out. He rests lopsided below the front tire, abdomen severed in half.

Grotesque. 

“Car- Car!” You cry out, wildly gesturing for him to follow suit while you pry the driver’s door open, the monster’s frustrated growl enough motivation for the stranger to throw himself in as well.

In the nick of time you press down on the pedal, winding the wheel in a quick motion just as the hell-sent smashes itself from the shop, evidently angered.

“I’m Han!” The man occupying the passenger seat shouts, the hole through the windshield causing enormous amounts of wind to soar through the car and synonymously blur your senses.

“What?!” 

“My name is Han! Han Jisung!”

Squinting whilst looking through your mirror at the wickedly approaching Monster, you veer past as many obstacles as possible — most being corpses — as fast as the engine will let you.

“Oh! Uh, I’m Y/N!”

Han nods, grasp clutched onto his seat the more you speed increases, recklessly maneuvering left and right as if dodging a crocodile. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t a crocodile, but a blood-thirsty beast wanting nothing more than to behead you. How sweet.

“Do you… Do you know how to drive?” He yells, and you raise your eyebrows, narrowly shifting past a shopping cart.

“If you count Mario-Kart as driving, I’m a pro!”

Han audibly squeaks his fear in response, eyes squeezing shut as if to not stare at the monster’s face nearing the mirror.

The speedometer cries out, vehicle shuddering as you near train tracks just at the edge of the city. 

Hopeful. 

Fleeting hope when the roar of a train’s whistle soars through the air, the look Han gives you doing little to sustain your already thinned sanity.

Perhaps you’ll die getting hit by a train than this monster.

Perhaps it’s better that way.

“We’re not gonna make it we’re not gonna make it we’re not gonna make i—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP—-“ You screech, foot slammed as far down on the gas pedal as possible, the rumbling of the train’s engine deafening. 

“HOLY SHITTTT—“ The man screams, mouth ajar as you soar over the tracks, preparing for impact only for a hair of the train’s front barely brushing over the car’s bumper. 

Currently realizing you’re still breathing and not dead, you floor the brake, either of you launching forward in your seats while the endless train keeps the monster at bay on the opposite side. 

Both panting hysterically, you place a hand on your chest, hoping to slow down the terrifyingly fast pace of your heart — close to bursting out of your chest. 

Your passenger, Han Jisung, turns to look at you, eyes wide as saucers, a gradual open-mouthed smile growing upon his flushed, sweat-stricken face.

“That was.. sick.”

The flashlight flickers here and there, found in the tow truck’s trunk along with a med kit currently carried along by Han.

By chance did you end up in what remained of the red-light district, rubble dotting roadways as evidence of the Monster’s previous siege.

Amidst the held supplies, your pocket seems to ache with the weight of the letter, sitting there in its futile warning of what was to come, now arrived.

You hadn’t brought it up to Han yet, a persistent fear of blame lingering in the back of your mind. Was it your fault you didn’t react in time? Disregarded the letter?

No. There’s no time to regret now. Whatever past existed has been annihilated. 

Night is approaching, and with that comes rising unease and a desperate need to find shelter.

Seoul’s red-light district had always been a taboo for Korea’s upper class. A hushed word, quenched beneath harsh scolding and wrinkled noses at the mere mention.

As if their own well-off sons don’t get driven there on a daily basis, ignorant to their own affiliation as if it’s a genetically determined trait.

Quite funny how none of that matters now. Not when it’s the end of the world, that is.

Every (once) building looks the same. Rubble. Litter lines the roads, cars strewn awry, wrecked into buildings, run over people. 

A pattern lies in everything. 

This pattern consists of fear. 

Struck on faces, painted carelessly along torn apart surfaces and walls, splattering the cities ruby red.

Incessantly, you can’t help but fear. A natural biological response when in the presence of actual or perceived danger, inflicting sharp wounds throughout your body, mind on an endless neurological high of adrenaline-fueled paranoia. 

How could someone not be paranoid when they were being hunted?

“In here.”

Han’s voice pulls you out of your head, turning where he points to a brick building, multicolored beach towel draped over a window torn to shreds, soil from plants staining the cracks of tiles, floor a mixture of blood and bacteria. 

“It’s abandoned,” He notes, prying the creaking door open. 

Abandoned isn’t the word for it. The inhabitants left as most people did upon hearing the news of invasion, although they didn’t get far, you’re plenty aware of that. 

What a shame. Thinking they could escape, in their wake, slaughtered ruthlessly. 

Instead of abandoned, call it evacuated, barren.  

Inside, a radio runs in a constant string of white noise, the addition of broken air conditioning the only source of apparent life. Haunting, flickering lights cast the few rooms in an eerie, ghoulish green like that of a basement.

“I’ve been here before. There should be a mart nearby.”  

Allowing his remark to sink in, you pause, a slight grin drawing upon your lips. 

“You’ve been here before, in the red-light district?” 

Phrase lingering amusedly, he stops as well, shifting on his heel to grace you with a similar smile.

“What? Not everyone can stand high and mighty in this society. Plus, there’s no need to pretend anymore when death is so close by.”

Your smile drops, and you suck on the skin of your cheek, a loud breath through your nose enough to continue the descent.

Perhaps you should change the abandoned description. 

Just then, from the corner of your eye do you see a figure emerge, the glinting edge of a kitchen knife barely brushing your shoulder blade before you dodge to your left, the attacker colliding with an ironing board.

Mere seconds later the figure rises to their feet, identified as female, adorning lanky limbs and skin as pale and zombified as the surrounding room. Her lips are cracked and purple, eyes nearly black, blanketed with equally raven hair reaching the floor in length.

The girl looks like a creature, barely alive with the lack of coordination in her loose stabs, alienated stare vividly murderous. 

Only by narrowly pummeling into the wall do you manage to immobilize her, Jisung’s efforts stalled.

Liquid obsidian blinks back up at you from where you’ve caged her to the floor, her nostrils flaring in hasty breaths, your own panting ringing in your ears.

“Look kid- I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? Now if you calm down and let me—“  

A third of the steak knife puncturing the side of your thigh veers your head back, choked scream jostling your nerves tenfold. Bubbling blood slips from the wound, trickling warmth dizzying you into a foggy spell.

It’s not until a low bang! sounds that her arm, raised for another strike, falls limp to the floor, looking behind you to find Jisung holding a pistol, silencer attached to the muzzle, aimed directly at the girl below you. 

Immediately, before you can release the unheralded screech compressing your lungs, Han hoists you up by your elbows, the jarring movement beckoning a squealed sob you bite your tongue containing.

Snatching clothing from a closet behind the door, the man rips the fabric using his teeth, returning to your slumped frame.

Reminding you to hold your breath, he aligns the makeshift bandage prior to tying it, your reaction becoming quieted as your eyes roll back.

And the world falls into a dark abyss. 

By the time your lashes flutter open again, searing light invades your vision, the urge to open your eyes aiding a roaring headache.

Although, it appears you’re still in the same room, alternatively relocated to a futon on the floor, leg propped up using folded pillowcases and books. 

“You’re up.”

Han enters the room, two metal cans of mashed spam and rice held in either hand, one of which he gives to you. 

“You were knocked out cold,” He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners, uncharacteristic to the fact he just shot someone.

“The shirt should staunch the bleeding. Eat.”

Staring down at your meal, you glance up, stomach churning in an unsightly manner merely considering food.

But you eat anyway, gulping the bites down despite the nausea.

“And the girl?” 

Han takes a bite, scraping every last grain from the noisy tin without so much as a shiver.

“I took care of it.”

It’s your turn to laugh, confusedly surveying the teenage-boy-looking friend of yours.

“What are you? A hitman?”

He clicks his tongue, eyes thoughtfully flickering to the ceiling. 

“I’m.. somebody who really wants to survive.”

All you do is return his tight-lipped expression.

Yet, truly accounting for your introduction, there’s a whole lot you don’t know about him. His past, his goals. What his life was like before. 

He comes off as cheery and good-natured, disposition claiming he wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

You’ve come to realize that isn’t the reality whatsoever. Because Han Jisung is exactly what Han Jisung said he was.

Somebody who really wants to survive. 

You can relate to that.

“So.. Random note, random warning, no location?” 

“Pretty much.” 

Seated beside you, Han surveys the letter, reading over the contents a few times before folding it back up and handing it to you. He’s redressed your wound, utilizing the medical kit’s antiseptic and gauze to wrap the skin.

“Hellion Inn,” Han repeats softly, brows knitted. “Never heard of it.”

You shrug once more from your place on the ground, leg still propped while he squats to your left.

“If anything, it’s likely it was destroyed if it’s an actual Inn,” He mumbles, tapping a puffy bottom lip with his index, earning your half nod before you pause.

“We can still try it though? We can find a stick or somethin’, I’ll use it as a crutch.” 

This time, it’s his turn to nod — rising up with a somewhat-assuring: “I’ll be right back” before leaving the room, returning after a few moments with a table leg, nearly comical in the proud manner he lifts the wood, jagged edges evidence of his severing with a knife. 

After copious laughter do you glance at him, brow cocked. “This is really all you’ve got?”

Asking from your place beside him, you brace more weight onto the makeshift crutch, granting Han a side-long glance.

“If I had more I’d use it,” He huffs, watching you hobble slightly but remaining upright with worried brows, hands poised to stabilize your steadying adjustment.

That’s most important, you deemed, no matter how puny. A drag to the team means death; you won’t be that drag.

Tomorrow morning you’ll head out. Find somewhere else to occupy whilst searching for Hellion Inn.

The one remaining routine amidst the apocalypse is time, and as the sun cracks above a horizon once able to be admired and not envied, you’re helped to your feet, gathering bags slung over each other's backs. Additional clothes, torn tablecloths. Anything of even insufficient use.

You don’t think these streets had been this quiet since your grandparent’s time, with bustling citizens and raging business overtaking wherever you look. Now, it might as well be a ghost-town. No more cries for help, no more groans and moans in agony.

And yet, it’s almost unsettling as it is reassuring. Suffering has ceased. Cries for help drawn to a close. 

Peace within death.

Trekking for only about a mile feels tumultuous, the ache already coiling in your bones like snakes seen slithering through rubble, waiting for rats to swarm decomposing carcasses in search of easy victims.

Seoul has become a jungle, eat or be eaten. It’s only a matter of time, a split-second ignorance, that can have you eaten. Perhaps by the true Monster, perhaps by your own kind.

The sight of broken columns and french doors parted in what looks to be a hotel in front of you redirects your focus, granting Han a hum of acknowledgment. His hand reaching for the pistol in a fashioned holster, yours coming to the kitchen knife held in your bag.

Wary, but slow steps paired with your hobbled ones make for the small bout of stairs, buzzing of flies caught in flurries littering goosebumps along your arms.

Something about this place is abnormal. That much is known. And if this is the so-called “Hellion Inn” (or what remains of it), your hope for sanctuary plummets in tandem with the temperature upon stepping in. 

Cold. That dead, stale kind of cold, warmth from the heart void, no longer beating.

Matchstick providing barely enough light, you carefully pry open the squeaking doors in the second doorway, blade wielded close to your being. The putrid odor of decay perplexes your gag reflexes, allowing Han to take the lead in his observing endeavor. 

Abruptly, your foot smushes against something below, and when you look down only to be met with a lifeless hand there, bulging, horror-stricken eyes staring back up at you, you hurriedly bite your lip to conceal the bubbling scream clawing from your throat, frothing like a brewing cauldron. 

Han can only grimace. 

It was here. You’re not sure when, but these wounds — these corpses mercilessly ripped apart — aren’t the doing of humans.

A bone chilling thought surfaces in your mind.

What if the monster is still here?

Your traveling companion spins around on his heel, hands placed on his hips. Honeyed irises momentarily flit between your paled frame to the obvious terror staining your features, his eyebrows raised.

“Hey, I know it’s scary, but the monster’s likely gone by now, and if we can find someone or a sign that’ll redirect us then maybe…”

His words trail off, suddenly all too familiar with the sound of chortled breathing ragged in his ears. Exhales stenching of rotted flesh, the scraping of sharpened claws on the floor.

And how you’re not staring at him, but above him. 

Your palms slowly reach up to cover your mouth, taking the tiniest step back manageable.

“..It’s right behind me, isn’t it?”

Yet, before the Monster can swipe a clawed hand and hack off a limb, deja vu strikes in the form of another gunshot, not silenced, booming,

It soars right past your shoulder with pinpoint precision to land within the Monster’s side, collecting a shriek in return. The beast flails wildly as Han races from its clutches towards the unknown savior of his.

Fluffy hair, a torn, mud-stained jean jacket over his shoulders, white undershirt equally unkempt. The four of you survey the monster’s descent deeper into the hotel, not appearing to execute anymore attack attempts.

For now.

No less, you’re helped outside in your wobbly state, the shot-gun boy leading, another seeming to take up the rear behind you and Han. His companion, maybe. Just as you and Han are.

Sharper features oppose the shotgun-carrying boy’s downturned eyes with inquisitive, apprehensive ones. Lighter hair, jeans bagging by his shoes, white tee’s once graphic design smudged, unrecognizable. His own weapon lies in spiked boxing gloves, nails seemingly ruptured through the cushioned layers.

And when his eyes meet yours, you feel fire in your veins. Blazing, warming you from your toes to your fingertips.

“You guys alright?”

Shot-gun boy, introduced as Kim Seungmin, speaks first, spinning on his heel to regard either of you. Though, it’s hard for your mind to stay attentive, the feeling of Seungmin’s companions’ eyes incessantly boring into your back causing a wary twitch of your fingers. 

“Lee Minho.”

His voice breaks you from that apprehensive spell, that watchful gaze of his surveying both you and Han with an unimpressed exhale.

“Don’t slow us down,” He scowls, shouldering past Han, lips drawn into a tight line. He heads for their own vehicle, a worn down truck narrowly resting in better condition than your earlier tow truck by the tracks.

Real friendly.

Seungmin, a tad bit more benign, gestures with a curt nod to the vehicle, ushering your injury-wielding self to sit in the passenger seat with Minho as driver, Seungmin and Han taking the truck’s bed.

Just then does the Monster make its return, bursting from the hotel in a seemingly rejuvenated spirit from before, gaping jaws aching to be filled.

You could only hope your flesh wouldn’t be the filler.

“This is why I hate introductions,” Minho, already slamming his foot onto the pedal, grumbles, not granting a response upon tires burning rubber over dusty roads as you speed off – a replay of your ride with Han on loop each time you see the Monster in your mirror.

Approaching closer, closer again.

It seems food becoming involved is a common theme, jarred when the truck swerves in front of a supermarket. Seungmin shouts from the back as he and Han race ahead, beckoning you two to follow them, your steps lightly hobbled with feeble help of the makeshift crutch.

“The hell do I have to be on babysitting duty for?” Minho, lifting your arm over his shoulder, grovels, and you fight the urge to whack him with your crutch, making through the desolate supermarket. 

Weapons in clutch, it grows taxing trying not to grimace hearing clattering glass, the mental picture of those bulging eyes doing little for your already queasy stomach.

“It’ll hear us!” 

With your horrible luck intact, this already dislikable stranger ends up being the same soul you're lodged into a bathroom stall with.

Minho hisses, furrow of his brows causing his face to scrunch with distaste, the loud clatter of soup cans and chip bags alike resounding from outside in the thick of the Monster’s carnage.

“No, it’ll hear you. More people means more death, and lucky for you, I’ll be off your hands in no time.” Now it’s your turn to retort, the man lacking of his usual boxing gloves, strap of Seungmin’s shotgun over a shoulder instead.

Wriggling yourself from his grasp, you hesitantly slide the notch to the door, movement only stopped by Minho’s lingering hand grabbing your sleeve. 

“And what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m repaying a favor.”

Weighing your ability to walk well, you snag the shotgun from his shoulder, granting the man a wink and a: “Thanks for the shotgun”, before slipping from the stall, leaving his starstruck figure in tow.

Ignoring the biting ache in your thigh thanks to a discarded crutch, you savor cool metal beneath your fingertips, watching the blur of the other two boys racing past the Monster’s attempts of attack. 

“Hey! Ugly fucker, over here!” You shout, chilled seeing blind eyes rip your way.

Cocking the gun, your eyes narrow, focusing the sight on its head and–

Bang!

Echoing around the supermarket does a copper bullet gnash into thin skin, puncturing straight through, shell casing crinkling onto the floor below in tandem with a low groan of the creature.

Minho bursts from the bathroom moments later, still sporting a starstruck visage. Han and Seungmin go thundering right past back to the truck, the wild goose chase persisting. 

What wasn't persistent was Minho’s arms wrapping around your back, hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of rice whilst chasing right after his counterparts.

As much as you’d like to thank him, your thigh still hurts like hell.

“Yah! That- hurts- asshole!” Shrieked between his hurried footsteps, you smack his shoulder blade defiantly.

Hopefully that serves as a thank you.

However, escaping is far from reach, and feeling presumably safe is equally residing far from grasp when, after finally being able to inhale without a stutter to your lung halfway down the road, the sharp snap of a tire blows.

And the truck flips over.

It was one thing maneuvering from the flipped car, shards of glass embedded in your skin beckoning pinpricks of blood, and another continuing on foot to wherever the two acquaintances planned to lead to.

The largest of things, however, was learning the name of this apparent destination.

Hellion Inn.

With Seungmin sustaining a minor head injury, Han luckily unharmed, and an also unharmed Minho reluctant to aid in being your temporary crutch, you’re given plenty of time for interrogation along the way — wondering just who the hell was responsible for the letter. 

As far as their replies go, not a soul knows.

And at this rate, you can’t bring yourself to care about pestering for answers anymore, not with Minho’s aggravating complaining and equally as irritating, stupidly good-looking side profile.

So, the torturous walk to this supposed ‘Inn’ prevails, which, turns out not to be an Inn at all. Instead, it’s this metal, bus looking contraption, like a trailer.

Silver of the exterior tarnished, it hides within a surrounding forest entryway, vines curling around door fixtures as if with time, what remained would be swallowed by the greenery.

From the bus two more men exit, and you can’t help but wonder if this so-called Hellion Inn has just as many residents as an actual Inn.

Christopher Bahng and Seo Changbin introduce themselves hastily, quick to rush back into the bus and retrieve a medical kit. After enduring both the painful removal of glass, your reopened wound stitched, and Chris’s heart wrenching smile of assurance (followed by a pat to your kneecap after, ensuring an imminent heart attack on your part), you’re finally invited inside, introduced to the others.

Three more. 

It’s a clown car. Definitely. 

Yang Jeongin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix. Boys- no, men, with features you’d like to deem frustratingly attractive. 

Maybe photoshoot, not a clown car.

No less, the seven interact with ease, Han intermingling as if he’d been by their side for eternity. A bonfire, expertly lit behind the bus hidden amongst foliage to conceal smoke, provides warmth in the night.

Cold, just as it’s always been. Even more so with autumn’s presence.

Yet, you find your eyes falling right back to him.

Minho.

Man of fire, whose gaze on yours feels like your ribs cracking apart, as if his fingers bend your windpipe every which way, rendering no air into your lungs. He is fire, licking at your skin in the most deplorable of ways.

And you crave it.

If he were Hades, you’d eat the pomegranate seeds like a fool just to feel his eyes on you again and again.

Selfish.

When he looks at you, you feel selfish. Perhaps it’s the stakes, perhaps your heart has grown too weak, beat too fast it falls for any and all. Adrenaline-induced love.

You aren’t naive like Persephone, aren’t blindsided by curiosity.

That latter is a lie. Especially when you shift on the log, purposefully scooting closer to catch bits and pieces of his conversation with Jeongin, listen to the perfect pitch of his voice, aided by the crackling of flames before you.

You wonder if touching him would rival those white-hot flames. Scalding your fingers till you grew numb. 

You’d take that bet.

Fluffy fabric placed over your shoulders makes you flinch in place, sympathetic eyes of chocolate meeting yours.

Honeyed. Chris.

“It’s cold, stay warm,” He ushers, crouching to take a seat on your left.

Then do you register his actions. A blanket, the material a survivor of water’s toil and plenty of stains. But it’s warm, durable, and most importantly, sweet. Chris is sweet, you decide, a bit like this warm blanket.

Your nod of thanks doesn’t feel like it even slightly compensates for his kindness, though, for now, it’s enough.

Tomorrow, Chris, Changbin, Minho, and Jeongin will relocate the flipped truck. Haul it back, fix it up again. That’s what your sensible mind discerns, seemingly adopted into the group like any other as sleeping arrangements in the bus are modified for both you and Han.

Strays, huh.

A flickering gas lamp keeps your gaze glued to the ceiling where you lie, watching shadows twirl like a strange ballet along the walls. Near the front of the bus does Chris sleep, Changbin glued to his side, Felix tucked beneath his arm.

It brings a smile to your lips, watching them. Even Seungmin, with his more boundary-oriented persona, close to the others, his hand brushing against Hyunjin’s shoulder, Jeongin’s head. 

Human beings, after all. Even when it all falls apart. And maybe, maybe in monsters as well, there is human. The need to be close, to feel skin on skin. 

Counting heads, you find one missing.

“You should be sleeping.”

Minho flicks a lighter on and off, waiting to relight the gas lamp. He squats down in front of you, jeans stretched over muscular thighs.

Your brow furrows, wondering if he’d been here this whole time amidst your ignorance.

“Are you scared?”

His words dull your ability to reply, retort something smart. But, the tone keeps your mouth shut. Cool and calm, like when he spoke to Jeongin by the fire. Not taunting, nor instigating.

“No.”

The words are a lie, unveiled in the crease of a dirt-stricken face, chapped lips pulled taut.

His pinky finding yours verifies that fire theory. From the tips of your toes to the very top of your scalp you feel it. 

Scorching. Hot.

Your skin seems to melt from your bones, but only you can see it.

There are lots of questions to ask. Wondering, hope. Why?

But he beats you to it. It seems you’ll have to get used to that characteristic.

“Go to sleep. Nothing can get you here.”

A lie, you know it well. Any second that monster can stumble here. Smell you, turn the perfect corner to find the bus, sheen shimmering beneath a full moon. Ravage each and every one of you beneath claws and blood.

But the letter, no, Minho says you’ll be safe here. That Hellion Inn will be your safe haven. 

Tonight, you choose to believe that, falling asleep with his pinky twined with yours, his back to one of the side booths, focus trained on your features.

Safe.

“Hnn..” 

Insistent poking to your cheek abducts you from your dream, bleary eyes straining to open. Jeongin sits up, bracing himself with his hands, youthful smile stretched over his face watching you. Meanwhile, the hellspawn guilty, Hyunjin, can’t help but laugh cheerily.

“Wah— I wish I had a camera!” Ebony strands peek from beneath a white ball cap, his voice carries from the bus for Felix’s head to peek in, echoing Hyunjin’s laugh with his deeper baritone.

Similar to Chris are you met with Felix’s kindness, his lithe form slipping past the bus doors to gently smooth back your bed hair, utilizing a hair tie on his wrist to bind the unruly strands before patting your head.

It’s easy to ache for anyone’s touch, you discover.

In the early morning, the car was retrieved by Minho, Chris, Jeongin, and Changbin, the low chatter of voices outside evidence of their progress restoring the once flipped vehicle.

When you step out, Changbin hands you a tin of steaming soup as meager breakfast you’re quick to thank him for, bringing the spoon to your lips whilst lingering near the car, watching them flit about, handing each other tools and screws alike like busied ants.

“You just gonna stand there or help out? Last time I checked you weren’t worried about appearances.”

Instantaneously, Minho becomes his normal, annoying self with each snidely sarcastic remark, cocked brows urging you to retaliate.

Unfortunately, your barely conscious mind can’t formulate something smart back, so you resort to serving as the tool-supplier, handing different ones here and there from a stool near where the Man of Fire works on the popped wheel.

His new title, apparently.

Man of Fire.

“Wrench.”

“Did you just call me a wench?” You scoff, eyes wide with shock at the murmured comment. 

Perhaps you were blindsided after all by his nice face.

“Wrench.”

Or not.

Begrudgingly, you extend the wrench, scowl embedded in your expression he can’t help but crack a bemused grin at.

Attaching the wrench to a bolt to crank does his vein-littered forearms flex, and your throat feels unnaturally dry, forcing yourself to focus on something else in order to school an unaffected facade.

Nevertheless, by night, he’s.. different. Lacking cockiness, harshness.

Unspoken things, like when you’re stirred from sleep, dazed gaze settling on Minho across the bus, his fingers tenderly patting Changbin’s head when he stirs awake. They speak in hushed whispers alternative to Changbin’s boisterous presence. 

And sometimes, amidst the other seven, you’re the one beneath his comforting hand. Those times nightmares plague your sleep, his careful hands tracing your knuckles, slow circles over your skin urging you back into the solace of sleep.

To you he doesn’t talk, just hums a low melody, wipes unshed tears from your waterline. Seeing his face makes you want to cry more, so you can be scooped into his hug.

Though, you doubt you’d ever let go, so you never allow yourself more tears. Maybe that’s for the better.

Because while you’re so selfishly enamored as night falls and he becomes that doting figurine bathed in moonlight, Minho is endlessly selfless. Wordless, but selfless.

The guardian of the night, sustaining a semblance of care and safety that silently engulfs the bus each time a star twinkles within the sky.

Then again, risks are always present. Missions out for food, stashing of possessions in case of invasion.

Windows of the bus covered, the group convenes that evening, leant over a book on the floor, huddled with knees held close to chests. Sharing things of value, adding more.

An old journal, spine tattered and moth-eaten. Inside looks to hold the secrets of the world, hidden within yellowed pages, hurried writing of smudged ink.

All of it, from the Monster’s mannerisms, exterior, presumed weaknesses. Written, documented. How such information was gathered is beyond you. Intricate, detailed.

Study after study, page after page. 

In two days, you’re arranged to head out with Chris for a medical restock. The pharmacy isn’t too far from the Inn, and it’ll only be a few hours of collecting before returning back.

The morning of, Seungmin hands you his shotgun, and Chris takes Minho’s—the Man of Fires’—nail-wielding boxing gloves. Two backpacks, one goal.

Fortunately, the journey isn’t too grueling, filled with quiet conversation and query till barely divisible characters reading ‘PHARMACY’ come into view, slipping into the hollowed, whitened confines of a once thriving business.

Eerie, with medication strung awry, unknown blood splattered along a wall behind the register.

It’s almost funny how the money there goes untouched. What use is it now?

Captured within your peripheral does a door become of topic, shielded behind a hanging towel in the far corner of the pharmacy that you slowly pad over to inspect, fingers tentative in nudging to the side. 

Though, it’s the sudden flick of lights, electricity, that makes you gasp, flashlight of little necessity as you part double doors.

The sight makes your heart stop.

Because beneath the disguise of a pharmacy rests a drug-den, a laboratory, first and foremost.

“Uh.. Does Seungmin have this in his journal..?” 

Building long since redlined by the look of it, Chris is quick to join your side, muttering an awestruck: “Holy shit” you would’ve laughed at if it weren’t for your combined surprise. 

Though, he places an arm in front of you as your foot moves to step inside, instead advising the muzzle of your shotgun to lead you, clearing the area before feasting on this monstrosity.

Countless test tubes litter every surface in sight, but it isn’t mixtures, isn’t a combo of products.

It’s insects, piled with them.

Many deformed in gruesome ways, trapped inside the tubes. Chris, hastily pulling an old camera from his bag, snaps photos, the shutter’s sound echoing around the room.

Yet, you can’t help but notice a near uncanny resemblance.

Incisors, bulging eyes, like the Monster.

No, it wouldn’t be. A mega ant? No, that thing is far from solely ant with its hulking size.

“Don’t you think this is just.. odd? I mean, they’re already up to their noses in cash from the drugs, I’m sure, so why the.. ants?” 

Chris exhales slowly through his nose, shaking his head.

“My guess is as good as yours. And calling it a ‘guilty pleasure’ just makes me nauseous, I mean look at them, they’re.. infected.”

Fungal growth is clear as day, that’s agreed. The true question rests in reason.

Just what were they doing here?

The longer you linger, the more unsettling it becomes.

Because somehow, your gut can’t shake that resemblance to the Monster.

Your walk back to the bus is quiet, shrouded in nerves and a wanting for familiarity. Safe to say you both sigh in relief seeing that silvery, unmoving vehicle.

It’s almost comical how the uneasiness spreads, like whatever fungus altered the insects, contorting them in disfigured shapes, features. Overtaking the nine of you similarly.

Merely thinking about it gives you chills, Chris’s description, as you’re coddled into the bus with the others to explain, doing little for the vomit tempting your throat.

Effortlessly, your same silence washes over the others, paled as they acknowledge the identical resemblance you’d conjured before.

“You don’t think..” You’re feeble in attempting to disprove the suspicions, trembling of your fingers stilled only when Minho’s index traces your wrist. 

Though, it isn’t night, and the look he grants you makes you wish for his touch even more.

Assurance, worn within the grooves of his face, repetitive stroke of his fingertip over a hammering pulse.

“I do think, show me the picture again.” Seungmin beckons, hurriedly flipping through his own notebook as he narrows his eyes on the photo Chris shows. 

Seungmin, you learned, used to be an entomology major in Seoul’s most prestigious university. Studious, with a bright future nearing.

Interesting how easy those aspirations can crumble apart within a day, within seconds.

But there’s no purpose in reminiscing, is there?

Now resorting to gathered notes of the past, he finally stops at a page, finger glued to the scribbled notes. His other hand reaches to the photo, pointing to a tiny label taped to a test tube halfway outside the frame, writing messy and uneven, barely legible against the blur of the camera.

Ophiocordyceps unilateralism, or, in easier terms, zombie-ant fungus. 

Thanks to Seungmin’s insight, his knowledge dictates the occurrence as “a fungus capable of infecting the mind of its host while simultaneously altering its body.”

So, in a horror-movie-esque, freakish way, a parasite. 

Jeongin pipes up, and you swear at least four of you flinch at the sudden sound of a voice against leaden silence.

“But the Monster’s too big to be an ant, right? How could the—“ 

“What if it wasn’t an ant, but another animal? A bigger animal. Some scientific breakthrough where the host was able to be taken over, not by an ant, but by something bigger.” 

The entirety remains consumed in a stillness, taking in the revelation they’ve just come to. 

Fear is almost palpable. Nearly able to be tasted, smelt. 

Han’s leg bounces anxiously, dirty fingernails reaching to claw at his hair, tearing at his scalp with visible shuddering Chris’s warm palm hopes to ease, placed on his shoulder.

“We’re being hunted by a parasite.” He croaks hoarsely in disbelief, tone pathetically cracking in terror. 

A parasite, yes. This, however, is different. 

The monster lurking through Seoul was planned, arranged accordingly under the guise of law and human greed for motive unknown.

A lone pharmacy, meant to cater to human health, now manufacturerers of human destruction.

This parasite is man-made. 

Your spirit could’ve been staunched easily, dampened by the weight of discovery. Grown unwilling to fight anymore, unwilling to try surviving.

Who are we if not going for each other's throats? Why must someone’s greed become everyone else’s problem?

Something so selfish, so horrid it grew out of control, festering like a seed of hatred in one’s heart till spiky leaves and branches poured from their lungs and suffocated them.

For a moment do you entertain the doubts, the scornful attitude over the boiled egg in hand. An early breakfast the day after the realization, with the nine of you seated along the bus’s roof, legs swinging off the side while watching the sunrise. 

You feel like the only people in the world. 

And a bit longer seeing shades of orange and crisp blue bleed across the sky does it feel like it’s all worth living for once again.

So instead, you adapt.

Jotting down more details about the fungus, figuring out ways to combat it. Continual stocking of food, the usual.

Fixing things, keeping up with communication. Laughter and smiling, momentary glances to that Man-of-Fire making you clam up, just like before.

At least that was predictable. 

A continual gas lamp, those same quiet visits of his within the night. And, more often than not, you’d find Minho’s pinkie linking with yours while he slept, without a nightmare or sleepless night as explanation. 

In the mornings, you’d pretend like it never happened. Go back to cat and mouse, square one.

Hold my hand, but keep quiet. 

I don’t want you to leave.

Plenty of things echo through your mind as dawn arises, when your lids twitch and disoriented eyes flutter open to find him beside you, peacefully asleep.

Most days, he’s gone by dawn, somewhere across the bus sleeping, leaving your groggy mind to configure his touch as a mere dream.

No matter the awe, your body betrays such an occasion, and you fall right back to sleep again hoping he could read your mind, keep that contact beneath the blanket.

Unbeknownst to you, the moment your eyes close, his eyes open.

But you’re already asleep when a gentle index traces your cheek, his lips parting with a slow breath. 

“Pretty,” Is whispered, failing to echo around the bus in its hushed volume, a pinch of normality within the chirping of birds, the breach of an emerging day peering over sparse clouds.

“Hm?” 

He wasn’t anticipating your response, breath catching in his throat.

“Hi Minho,” You murmur gently, greeting his surprised disposition as your lips wind into a tiny smile. 

Involuntary. Lips quirking upwards the longer you hold eye-contact.

And surprisingly, Minho cracks a smile too.

It’s feeble, barely divisible apart from the twitch of his lips. Your thumb traces the crinkle, too sleepy to speak, too comfortable to act. 

“Hi there.”

His hand returns your touch, finding your cheek to rest on, savoring the feeling of your skin on his, his on yours.

Stay here, don’t go.

I don’t want to be left alone again.

His brisk glance at your lips has your nerves buzzing beneath such a gaze.

Knowing, obliging.

Obliging as his head tips, as yours complies. Capable of fitting like the perfect puzzle as—

Seungmin mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep, and it’s all a dream once more how Minho slips from your hands as if he was never there in the first place.

Three and a half months at Hellion Inn passes in a flash. Research on combatants to the zombie-ant fungus prevalent, plenty of days spent crowded in the bus, throwing around possibilities and idyll conversation. 

Monster sightings have become sparse, with the vast majority of reports informing of its scavenging of the city’s copious bodies.

A sense of relief until it runs out of flesh and craves more, which is where your apocalypse began all over.

Starting with that same, chillingly bellowed chuff at least half a mile out from Hellion Inn.

You don’t think you’d ever seen the eight of them move so quickly. Gas lamp extinguished, weapons cocked and loaded with ammunition ready to fire. Minho’s studded boxing gloves, Seungmin’s shotgun, Chris’s dual pistols. Plentiful traps arranged about the bus, ones you never anticipated having to utilize up till tonight.

How foolish you were.

However, the bus’s roof isn’t caved in by a claw, the nine of you intact for the remainder of the restless night, void of any more sound from the Monster. 

Then again, the torment is far from yielding, with those same, restless nights becoming avidly frequent, Minho’s soothing capabilities tested as a nightmare per week triples in number.

In those times, you find comfort in each other, comfort in bodies snuggled together, in shared pain and happiness. In as much comfort support allows in the thick of a never-ending hailstorm. 

As for you, you find that longing has folded itself into squares of eighteen from a once meager eight. Folded over and over that, the greater the paper grows with each parted fold, the greater that longing burns. 

Burns, like the smoke billowing from a fire outside.

Location of the slow-to-set sun leads you to believe it’s around 3pm, your figure slumped to the floor of the bus.

Though, the missing factor rests in a lack of eight others who currently occupy the fire outside for dinner.

Yesterday, you and Jeongin took on a water restock, roaming about what seemed to be innumerable miles to repeat the walk with heavy packs of water all the way back, currently the cause of your exhaustion as you sleep into the evening the day after.

If only the sleep was peaceful, refreshing.

It’s not.

Well, it was. But not for long.

A shower, according to the flickering of your consciousness as you dream. Warm water droplets pattering on the tile floor underfoot, cleansing grime from your skin. Electricity.

And somehow, a peculiar name leaves your lips upon seeing a shadow behind the shower curtain.

“Minho.”

The sound of your voice is light in this dream. Awaiting, familiar. 

Yet, the pit in your stomach grows, unnaturally.

You find the cause when pulling back the shower curtain, that same, leering smile of the Monster staring back at you as it lunges.

Not Minho.

Your vision goes black, only able to hear the ringing screech of your scream, the heat of the shower now putrid metallic. Blood, replacing the water.

It fills your senses, suffocating you slowly but surely. Overflowing from your nose, your eyes, till you cry crimson.

A sharp twitch of your hand jars you awake.

You’re not bleeding, not in a shower, no Monster in sight. Although, you’d be lying to yourself to say you can just forget it all, act like nothing’s the matter.

More so when you see Minho—recalling his name uttered so sweetly in your dream—standing at the bus’s doorway, seemingly a witness to your horrors as he closes the door behind himself.

Ah. 

No, don’t look at me right now with that doting gaze, as if I’m something to be cared for, something delicate. 

For once I wish you away, so I don’t begin to cry, so my love for you doesn’t become my ruin.

“And it was- it was right in front of me and—“

He sees through you each time, through the toughened exterior, the shake of your head when he asks if you need anything, want to talk about it. 

He came in for an extra blanket, apparently. One long forgotten by now.

Spill your guts, but when it comes to him, you find your heart spilling with it. Words caught in a hyperventilating daze, your hands flail, eyes struck permanently bulging.

At some point, everyone starts to break. No time table to give you an estimate, forewarning.

It just bubbles until bursting.

“I don’t… I don’t want to do this anymore..” Voice a desperate plea, sobs wrack your body numb.  “Why can’t…” You begin, eyes flitting to Minho.

“Why can’t we all just die together?”

Heaved between sharp inhales is your face taken between calloused hands, his brows knitted.

“Cause who’s going to take our place? Who else is alive?” He whispers, kneeled upon the floor, staring at you nonsensically.

“This once, let me be selfish. I won’t let you die. You can’t die because I want you alive. Do you understand?” 

Slow to nod, bleary vision situates upon the man, cursing the dip to your usually strong tone — cracking, weakened.

“Can… Can I just.. forget?” 

His eyes flit to your lips if only for an instant, like that time a month ago, stolen. 

And for a moment, you think he may have just read your mind.

“Minho, please… I want to-“

Ah.

And he kisses you, and then, no, more. More and more, till you’re tangled up in sprawled blankets and sleeping bags. Smoke tainting the air from outside, calves dangling from his shoulders, toes curled. 

Minho makes you forget, forget and forget, leaving you to helplessly utter his name past chapped lips — till another round turns into what feels to be a lifetime. 

Your palms pressing to his jaw like a plea, head tossing back once more with a sound purely guttural. 

It’s sloppy, it’s clumsy. Sweat-stuck kisses to sweat-stuck skin. Nails digging into already moth-eaten clothing, his lips permanently pressed to your pulse, hammering and hammering in a wordless incantation of bliss. 

And yet, no amount of greedy, mindless sex, no amount of his doting kisses, his careful assurances, praises, can deter your mind from a reality unavoidable.

There’s no euphoria, no recovery your skin can even acknowledge as he flops to your side, both out of breath.

“.. Am I selfish for a pleasure I can’t even enjoy?” 

Silence breached, your eyes flutter closed, an involuntary tear slipping down your cheek where you lay upon the bunched sleeping bag.

This had been a dream, to be burned by the Man of Fire. Allowing his kiss to brand you, his touch searing every ounce of skin raw.

Little did you know you’d already scorched it all yourself.

Cruel. Irrevocably cruel.

Not even clarity grants your senses, emotion muddled between undergarments feeling too tight and grimy and the lack of fresh air rendering sticky bodies into a cold sweat.  

From beside you, his hand extends to your cheek, thumbing away the salty droplet with a weary smile.

“There is no selfishness, just… grasping onto what’s left. You’re not selfish for taking what you can get, not when everything is being taken from you.”

Hellion Inn was not your safety, it was the one gazing at you, the seven others outside. 

This is only a house, Minho is your home.

Fifth month arising, a conclusion is met. Amongst not-so-helpful input, bickering, and plenty of runs to libraries to gather more books on Ophiocordyceps unilateralism for a very studious Seungmin, he presents a possibility, an option.

Of its known enemies, the zombie-ant fungus doesn’t have many. There was the initial hypothesis on ways ants protect from the parasite, but with the Monster already infected, those methods were out of the question.

Then came the breakthrough.

Torrubiellomyces zombiae, or T.Z. An additional, fanciful word for a more powerful parasite. A Hyperparasitic fungi, zombie-ant fungus’ predator.

Create an ultimate beast without known opponents? Simply double the size, the power.

That’s where T.Z arrived, the species a core option for the Monster’s destruction. Get the spores on the Monster’s skin, and stay alive until it takes over and stabilizes the fungus’ infection.

Much easier said than done, which left room for the organized members of the group separating steps into phases.

Phase one focuses on collection of the spores. Extra photos Chris took that first encounter in the pharmacy unveiled the likely presence of the desired spores, which Felix, Hyunjin, and Seungmin have been elected to collect as Team C.

Phase two regards locating the Monster, introducing the presence of a harpoon gun (an idea Han loved (for the sole reason of fooling around with the harpoon gun)).

The point of the harpoon will be coated in collected spores, teams of three with three members each (A, B, and C) dispersed throughout the surrounding area the monster before Team A shoots.

And of course, courtesy of Han’s mention on what phase three should be: 

Run like hell. 

Phase two enacting in exactly a week, Hellion Inn spends its days in preparation, plaguing each breathing moment with gathering necessities and ensuring utilities are present.  

Between those lines comes the lividity.

Kisses in the night, his kisses. The shared cockiness, incessant teasing when the others are around as original as it comes despite such tenderness in private.

Your souls bared, secrets spoken into the air for only your ears to hear.

While the others sleep, you love till your heart hurts, watching him fall asleep against your palm where he’d kissed each of your fingertips minutes prior.

“I love you,” He whispers one night, his nose buried into your cheek with a heavy sigh. 

There’s not a single doubt within your mind, a hesitation, a hint of surprise.

Plenty of times it’s been said without words, repeated in the peck he presses to your skin.

“I love you too.”

And you repeat the words in a kiss to his lips. Slow, careful.

Savor. As if it were your last.

Dark clouds wrinkle your vision, spitting rain nothing short of irritating as you, Han, and Minho slip through cluttered underbrush.

Gathering of the spores had been successful by Team C according to the flare gun’s signal, and Team A—consisting of Changbin, Jeongin and Chris—tracked the location of the monster. 

Itaewon hasn't changed apart from the lack of bodies, assumed to be the Monster’s doing. Debris prominent, scavenging animals littering the streets without the usual congestion of people.

When the second flare blooms into shaded sky, that’ll be the indication the last stage: shooting the monster, is underway. For now, the three of you wait, listening in as hurried footsteps of Team C come thundering towards you.

Seungmin offers the vial, Minho lifting the harpoon gun to plunge into what appears to be an oddly shaped mushroom, your arm already lifted to the sky to fire Team B’s own flare gun.

Half way. Not done yet.

Now for Phase three, but, prior to the “run like hell” notion.

Jeongin is the retriever of the harpoon gun, angling through side streets past a lingering monster in the center to deliver the catalyst.

Almost there, almost–

His foot clashing against the metal of an alleyway trash-can disrupts that peace, and synonymously do you feel all breath held.

Chris was supposed to deliver the shot. Jeongin was supposed to make it to Team A unnoticed.

The world seems to grow mute, Han’s wrenching scream from beside you fallen upon deaf ears as the Monster’s gaping jaws beeline for Jeongin, claws extended, the boy kneeling to the ground.

Then, a ping! resounds, and your eyes are slow to open in fear his mutilated body would sit there, bright eyes lifeless.

It’s almost slow motion seeing it. Centimeters from Jeongin’s face does a palm outstretch, twice the size of his head, fingers twitching as if frozen in space.

Then you see it.

In the middle of that palm, the mere edge of the harpoon—only able to get halfway from its sheath—embeds.

Cavernous jaws of the creature part, incisors poised as if disbelieving of the matter itself. Disbelieving of the parasite taking over, altering its blood stream. 

Wilt.

White, almost decaying in the manner the alternate fungi destroys the weaker one, its muscles failing, body freezing.

You half anticipated the creature to at least try fighting in the meantime, land one last swipe. 

But the more time ticking past as you lean forward disproves any chance of movement, able to physically see the blood cells permeating the creature ashen, once curved claws diminishing simultaneously like that of crumbling embers.

Just then does Hyunjin’s voice breach your focus, curdled in urgency. It’s his cry that beckons Jeongin back to his feet, racing back after the others, tip of the harpoon still wedged within the Monster’s palm.

Oddly enough, as you watch the last of it dust into the wind as if melting, it doesn't feel real.

Too simple, uncanny. As if millions hadn’t extinguished in its horrid maw—a single parasite killing off the apocalypse bringer as easy as that.

Yet, it wasn’t easy at all.

Testing every last ounce of your wish for life, wish for a reality snatched from not just you, but eight others’ fingertips.

It was taxing. Surviving, experiencing the start of new love you didn’t think could sprout among a wintery wasteland included. 

But it did sprout, and the way you’re the first person Minho’s eyes drift to speaks that loud and clear.

Twin blossoms of the most brilliant colors, growing brighter the nearer they are. 

Closer than love, truly. 

We made it.

The Monster is gone.

There isn’t a word spoken as you make back for Hellion Inn, make back for home. The crunch of footsteps along gravel rings in your eardrums, breath exhaled from parted lips, matted, grease-ridden hair the least of your concern. No joyous shouting, no celebratory behavior in the slightest.

What is there to celebrate anyway? So many lives lost, too many to mourn.

Progression of your footsteps carries each soul with it, allowing them a final sleep in their eternal resting place.

Sleep well, Seoul. 

“It’s all over.” 

Whispered amidst roaring flames, you can only stare at the pharmacy as fiery flickers—vials, chemicals, ants included–swallow whatever has been left, torching hell’s origin once and for all.

One last stop. One last goodbye to all that was, the last chapter.

Without a word, Minho’s pinky links with your own.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @linocvp1d

[ohnogemini]

Are You Sure?

Hello, the name is Gem ✧⭑๋

This is the first fic I have ever written, and I have been sitting on it for a few months entirely too nervous to post it. I know typically fics tend to be short but this one flew out of me and I could not stop. I would love to hear your feedback and thoughts however please be nice to me for I am but a ｡⋆୨soft baby୧⋆｡ I hope you enjoy my story that came to me after watching every video of Lee Minho going camping over and over again ᵔᴗᵔ

✶ Word Count: 13k

★ Genre: !afab reader x Lee Minho

✹ Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors Do Not Enter

★ Comments: Tropes used: oops one bed; friends to lovers. Fluff and yearning. Slow to smut but it gets there. Felix and Seungmin make an appearance. M & F receiving oral ; unprotected consensual sex ; light spanking ; some cursing.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪.

You're sitting on your hands, with your feet hanging off the dock looking out onto the clear lake before you. The water is still enough that you can see your reflection when you look over the edge. You pull a hand from under you and absentmindedly put a strand of hair back behind your ear.

The air is warm, but the shade from the tree nearest to you is covering the top half of your body and you silently thank it for shielding your head from the beating sun. You feel the vibrations of movement on the deck before you hear the footsteps and you're immediately reminded of the knot in your stomach, the tension in the air that has been pulling at you for the last 20 hours.

You're aware that you've been sitting here by yourself for a while but cannot place how long that could have possibly been. The footsteps approach and stop next to you; glancing down to your right you see his sandaled feet and slowly trail up to see his half smile, left side of his lip curled and his eyes looking soft and half closed.

He's dressed differently now than when you parted with the guys and came to sit at the dock. Soft black shorts, a black shirt with the sleeves cut off, a baseball hat sits on his head barely revealing fading blond hair around the tips of his ears. He's holding a small wicker basket, though you can't see its contents.

"Hi, Minho" you say softly - as your eyes fall back to your lap, curling your hands around the hem of your shorts. He chuckles a little.

"Would you like one?" You hear him grab something and the sound of a glass clinking together. You look back up and see he's holding out a bottle of soju, your favorite flavor.

You pretend to read a watch on your wrist that you don't have - " I suppose now is as good a time as any. "

You try to shine a sincere smile up at him and hope he doesn't catch that your joke may have a double meaning. You grab the bottle from him; he moves a little bit forward and gracefully but forcefully plops himself down over the edge next to you, quickly realizing he has slips on and pulling them off and setting them down next to him, along with the basket. Minho grabs another bottle and two tiny clear cups and offers you one with a sly grin and kind eyes.

You shake your head, "Thank you, but I don't think I'll need that at the moment". Twisting the cap off your bottle, you hold it out to him for a cheers.

His smile softens a little, air blowing out of his nose like he's trying not to judge you and clinks your glasses together. You turn straight ahead again and pull a long swig from the bottle relishing in the sweet taste of strawberries. He opens his and takes a long swig too, opting to go the same route as you perhaps to ease the tension or maybe he needs it, too.

A silence falls around you and him. It's gentle but the quiet tension is still there from last night and this morning. He's sitting a little closer than you had expected him to. A flash from last night pings through your head and you wince at the thought.

It's been 5 months since you last saw him. Although you text quite often, and he calls you occasionally to check in, just like he always has since you met him 4 years ago- the distance has grown recently and become a little harder for you, even though you'd never admit it. Last time you spoke on the phone he invited you to this vacation.

You were a little nervous at the thought of tagging along with him and a few of his roommates on a camping trip, but you couldn't fight the need to be by his side again, so you accepted.

Every day, thoughts spin in your head about him. Each time the feelings become more vivid, more real, and precise. The corner of his lips when he smirks. How his entire face lights up, head tilts back and eyes crease when he laughs at one of your dumb jokes. No matter how desperately you try, the images and thoughts always fight their way to the surface.

"Neulbo..." His voice is incredibly soft and teasing, trailing the nickname out a little long but it snaps you out of the small trance you were in. You look over to him with a squint of pretend aggravation. He lets out a loud, quick couple of punctuated ‘hahas' and smacks his knee. He knows the nickname annoys you but not in a bad way. It’s true, you are lazy, but only because you like to enjoy the little things in life.           

              Just like this moment.

"Have you reconsidered my offer to go fishing tomorrow morning? I think you'll be good at it since it doesn't take any skill." He winks. "Plus, it’s a perfect relaxation moment for a little sloth like you. It’s just like what we’re doing right now but - with stinky bait and a pole."

He finishes the last sentence with a cheesy grin, his perfect bunny teeth showing, head tilted a little- like he knows his charms are working on you.

"If it also involves some of this, then I suppose it can't be too bad. But I'm still debating!" You hold up your drink and take another long swig as you look him in the eyes. He doesn't look away as it drops from your lips, and you clasp it in both hands. His face falls to a more serious look and the knot in your stomach swirls.

In your head you're repeating, please don't bring it up, please don't bring it up, please don't bring it up. But he does...

"I'm sorry about last night. Seungmin can be a little instigator and doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. And it certainly doesn't help that Yongbokie can sometimes be clueless. They mean well but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable during our time here. Only I am allowed to make you feel uncomfortable." He quickly reaches out and pinches your thigh and you let out a squeak.

He's always known how to break the tension in most situations- by making a funny face at you, saying something absolutely random that it catches everyone off guard, or simply screeching in the most ungodly way that everyone bursts out in laughter. This moment is no different.

The tension subsides except for the small pull in your stomach- you're not sure that will ever go away. He's not wrong about Felix either. You've been around him enough to know that his sunshine demeanor and kind soul is no facade. He would never intentionally make you feel awkward.

Seungmin on the other hand... He knew what he was doing. It was already determined during the group text when you guys were planning the trip that you and Minho would share one of the glamping tents while Felix and Seungmin shared the other. It made the most sense since you didn't know the others as well as him. What you didn't know, was that Seungmin had purposefully booked one with two small cots and another with one larger cot. That little shit. And since they got there before you and Minho, they had already picked the one with the two small cots.

After dramatically rubbing your thigh and making an exaggerated frown, you look back up at him,

"Felix is lucky he's so adorable. However, Seungmin is on my shit list."

He punches out a laugh with a fake shocked expression on his face. You continue, "I truly don't mind sharing a room with you, we've done it before. But hiding condoms under the pillow and loudly playing "Let's Get it On" from his phone pressed up against the side of our tent was him digging his own grave."

You smile and laugh a little, taking another sip as he falls back against the dock covering his face with his arm, his nose pressed into his elbow. He's really laughing now. It's pure and loud and makes you laugh harder. You turn your body towards him slightly, fold your right leg and put your elbow on your knee to look at him writhing in laughter.

It truly was funny what Seungmin did, but it did make you extremely aware that you would be sleeping very close to Minho all weekend. You continue to trail your eyes over him as he laughs. First to his perfectly toned arm laying over his face, down his chest that's bouncing softly with each laugh, falling to the slit that his shirt is making right over the top of his shorts giving you the tiniest, thrilling view of his tight stomach muscles, finally to his thighs... strong, thick muscles... perfect to sit on, or even bite... 

The silence rings in your ear a moment and you are acutely aware that he has stopped laughing. Your eyes dart back to his face to see that he’s dropped his arm and was watching while you were very much staring down at his legs.

You see the smallest hint of a smirk across his lips - but you don't linger - and quickly bring your bottle up to slam the rest of your drink. He sighs softly and leans back up to a sitting position. With the way you turned to see him laughing, when he comes all the way upright, the closeness between you two is aggressively narrower than before.

Since this proximity is not new to either of you, you try not to move away so as not to seem startled by the sudden closeness, but your heart is beating rapidly; you hope he can't hear it or sense the tingles that run down your spine when his knee brushes yours. You remind yourself again that this is not abnormal, you've even rested your head on his shoulder a few times while watching a movie on the couch. But something in the air has felt different this weekend. Palpable.

"I suppose the guys will be back in the next half hour or so." He takes another sip of his drink and looks straight out across the lake.

You follow his eyes and take in the sight with him. The sun is just barely starting to fall slowly behind the mountains. This spot truly is serene. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his profile. Sharp but delicate. You turn ever so slightly to pretend you're looking at the oncoming sunset. His skin has become more honey-like since summer has started, and you hadn't noticed before, but he turned his hat backwards. Annoyingly attractive.

Although the lake sits still in front of you there is a faint sound of the river that flows behind the campsite and connects to the lake up above. You feel the heat rise slowly in your stomach but stop yourself. This is Lee Minho, your friend...

You shake out of your thoughts, smile and say, "I bet you 15,000 won Felix tripped and fell at some point."

He turns to you with a mischievous look "I bet you 15,000 more that Min tripped him"- Your hand raises to your lips with big eyes, and you can't help but giggle. His had bolts up and grabs the yours that was covering your mouth, "Let's go hide some of Min’s stuff!" He stands and pulls you up with him.

"I would love nothing more!" you say as you squeeze his hand.

You both remain for a second longer then would be normal with your hands lightly clasped, feeling an approaching heat flush up on your cheekbones, you pull your hand away to secure a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Also, you brought ALL of the soju for us?? Did you expect us to drink all of that just sitting out here?!" you look over his shoulder at the basket he brought. Sure enough, it had a bag at the bottom with ice and 6 bottles of soju sitting in it.

He turns around and points down at the basket "Firstly, that's not ALL the soju we have. But also, I wasn't quite sure how you were feeling. You opted out of the hike and then told us you'd wait by the lake. I figured maybe... if you didn't want to come back, we could sit here and drink heavily until we'd have to crawl to camp later for bed." He looks up with another sneaky half smile and a chuckle in the back of his throat.

His words were playful, but you can't help but notice that lying within those words was concern for you. Was it only concern? Or maybe he wanted to spend some alone time with you? You blink away the thoughts quickly.

"However fun that really does sound, I really want to mess with Minnie, and I am getting pretty hungry." You reach down to grab the basket, but he swats your hand away and wags his finger at you.

" Nuh uhh, my clumsy Neulbo."

You pull the towel tightly around your chest and tuck the top part in between your cleavage. The showers at the campsite are bleak but it got the job done. During your shower your mind continued to betray you. Your thoughts couldn't help wandering towards the way Minho's thighs looked flat against the dock, shivering at the thought of tracing your fingers over the defined muscles...

However, the cold water helped free your mind from the slight fog of the bottle of soju you inhaled while sitting with him at the dock, and your stomach was screaming at this point.

During the group text, Felix had brought up hot dogs for dinner and you were excited at the idea of having an American styled camping dinner. You missed your home but being in Korea for the past 5 years has been the kind of adventure and change your soul really needed. Besides, after meeting Minho a year into your time here everything really fell into place. It was an immediate connection. Both of you being on the more reserved side but still craving adventure, music and food. And damn did Minho know his food.

That's how you know that dinner isn't going to just be hot dogs. If anything, Minho has made at least 10 other side dishes, and you're not mad about that.

You quickly towel dry your hair and slip into your outfit. It’s still decently hot so you picked an oversized graphic tee with the collar and sleeves cut off, so it falls down one shoulder, your bandeau bra shows slightly on the sides, and jean shorts that are a little shorter than you remembered.

"Oh, wow Noona, you're absolutely glowing!" Felix says with a bright smile and a cute wave as you walk back into the opening of your campsite. You stick your tongue out to the side and wink as you pass him by to place your things inside your tent.

Minho had made the bed and even picked your jacket and purse off the ground and put them onto a hook at the back of the tent. You chuckle to yourself and throw your dirty clothes on top of your luggage in the corner, knowing he'll pester you later about your laziness. Right now, you're too hungry and ready for another drink to care.

"That's absolutely not how it works, and you have lost, just accept it." Seungmin is sitting back in a camping chair speaking to Felix who is dramatically waving his hands in the air.

"You can't only suggest word games with me and expect me to ever win a single round. If it was in English, I could win!" Felix stomps over to a large brown bag that they filled with games for the trip and pulls out Jenga. "We're switching to physical games, I'm too soft and tired for your mind games Min".

Pulling a bottle of soju out of the cooler you glance over to Minho who is working studiously over an open fire cooking. He's carefully turning over huge sausages on the grill and using a white towel here and there to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead.

You notice that the table next to him is just as you expect it to be, filled with small plates of Korean meats and side dishes. The man can never go without being extra when it comes to food. You bend back down to pick up another bottle of soju and a water bottle and mosey over to him.

"This looks like thirsty work." You outstretch your left hand that holds both a bottle of soju and water to him.

You can really see the sweat on his face and neck now. A single drip comes down from the corner of his forehead, slowly falling down his cheek to the swoop of his neck; he catches it with the towel pressing it down around his neck and onto the bit of chest that's showing from the top of his shirt.

His eyes blink at the drinks several times in serious thought and grabs both.

"At least someone appreciates my hard work out here." He gives you a small toothy smile and sets the soju down, twisting the water bottle cap off and chugging most of it in one go.

"I haven't seen that shirt in a while. I like what you've done with it." He points the water bottle at your shirt and goes back to drinking it.

You truly didn't think he'd remember giving you this shirt years ago. It was within the first year you guys became close. Being the clumsy person you are, when you were at his apartment you had spilled an entire glass of red wine on your new blouse; he demanded you take it off immediately so he could wash it in cold water and gave you one of his old t-shirts to wear. It was comfy and you liked the design. But you liked it especially because it was his.

"Oh," you chuckle nervously- "I hope you don't mind. You said I could keep it and it felt like the perfect shirt to make into a summer fit." You glance down at the cartoon cats high fiving on the front of the shirt and pull at the bottom hem a little.

"No, no. I don't mind. You somehow turned my old dusty shirt into a thing of fashion. Let's try not to ruin this one too, huh? I couldn't bear the thought of the kitties being thrown into the trash tonight. There is only so much heartache one can go through in life." His playful smirk is back on his lips again as he turns back to the fire to pull the food off the grill and place it on the table.

"Alright you animals, come eat before it gets cold and Lino gets angry!" He clanks the tongs together a few times towards Felix and Seungmin and they are up out of their seats headed to the table before he even finishes the sentence.

The food is outrageous. You can't help but wonder if it's because you're so hungry or purely because Minho can make anything delicious no matter where he is or what supplies he has. The sun had fully set, and you and Felix clicked on all the lamps during dinner. Conversation was fun and easy like it usually is between all of you. You, Felix and Seungmin played rock, paper, scissors to decide who had to take all the trash to the animal safe bins and by no surprise Felix lost.

The drinks flowed swiftly now. The remaining soju was finished, and everyone ripped into the case of beer Seungmin had brought. There was whining and groaning about fishing in the morning, but Minho held firm that everyone had to participate. As the night dwindled, the games became too much of a hassle and eyes grew sleepy, Felix and Seungmin waved half-hearted goodnights as they dragged their feet to their tent.

You were slightly bent over towards a small faucet coming from the ground, rinsing your hands free of some soap and the remnants of dinner and a Jello candy you had for dessert when you're caught off guard by a voice right behind you -

"Are you going to use all the water from the well?" Minho says just above a whisper- your heart jumps and you stumble forward catching the faucet on your hip falling a swift path to landing on your face.

As your stomach flips at the plummet, you feel yourself stop midair. His hand is holding tight to the top of the back of your shorts while the other quickly finds its way right below your belly button to stop your fall. The fear you had a moment ago all at once turns to relief as you dissolve into laughter.

"What the hell Lino, you scared me! How are you so quiet with all these damn twigs everywhere!" You're still giggling quite loudly as you try to straighten yourself up.

The hand holding your shorts lets go warily, but the one on your stomach holds firm helping you get your balance pulling you back up and closer to him. You did not realize you were still a little tipsy, but it is apparent now as you teeter backwards flat against his chest. Both your hands come up to meet his over your belly as it softens from the adrenaline-fueled laughter.

"Someone still seems a little affected by the drinks tonight." His laugh is low, but you can tell by the way it sounds that he has that mischievous smile on his lips again.

He still hasn't made an effort to let go of you and you're unsure if that's because he's nervous to let you go if you might fall or if he's happy to have the sensation of your body pressed up against his and your hands laid gently over his.

"Let's say we take a night stroll by the river. I promise I'll try my best not to push you in no matter how strong the urge is." He squeezes you a little tighter now before grabbing one of your wrists to turn you around and starts to lead the way, not looking back to witness the flush on your cheeks.

The walk to the river’s edge isn’t far. You stopped at the camp to grab another bottle of water before continuing. The short walk was quiet which was not uncommon with you and Minho. Silence never really bothered either of you when you were together. Usually filled with giggles at whatever anime or new movies you happily dived into. Or silent looks and gestures at food or scenery you enjoyed.

But tonight, you wanted him to talk. Even though he spoke plenty with you and the guys at dinner, it was different when it was just the two of you. His voice had this special edge, and his tone would lilt upwards unlike his more serious voice when around others.

"Thanks for making us hot dogs Lino. Even though they were most certainly sausages and not Ball Park Franks like I'd usually have at home." You skipped up next to him with your hands behind your back pushing playfully into his shoulder.

"I've never heard of them, but they sound unhealthy." He looks over at you one eyebrow raised blinking a few times, "I'm confident these were better." He chuckles softly and pushes back into your shoulder.

The sun had set hours ago but there was a clear view of the moon on the other side of the river giving you the perfect amount of light to see his feline eyes patrolling the ground for large rocks and pointing them out or guiding the both of you around them.

You scoff and turn your head up a little at his diss of your favorite guilty pleasure food, that is admittedly not that healthy.

"Not every meal has to be a perfect balance of nutrition you know. People are allowed to enjoy a little junk food once in a while!" You both laugh again, smiling at each other very well knowing you've made midnight runs to the corner store for ice cream plenty of times together.

"Thanks for bringing me on this trip too. I definitely was not expecting the invite." You say this part a little quieter than the last.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" His response is quick, his tone is matter of fact.

"I guess I just didn't anticipate it at all." You're looking down at your feet now. He looks over at you, but you don't look up.

"Well now you're sounding ridiculous." He says this one through a huff that could have been a laugh. But for some reason you can’t match it. You're not sure why, but you suspect it has something to do with the knot that's still in your stomach, keeping you tethered to some sort of unspeakable tension.

"Either way, I was surprised. I sort of started feeling like you'd forgotten about me." As soon as you said it you felt foolish. He stops dead in his tracks.

"What made you think that?" His voice sounds more serious now than when he was retorting your statements earlier, with a tone of concern as if he thinks he's done something wrong.

You stop too and turn towards him as your hands come up waving in front of your face with your head shaking back and forth. The bottle in your hand has a tiny bit of water left in it and is making a small sloshing sound as your vigorously waving. He reaches up and grabs it, sliding it into his back pocket; the action is done before you can realize it’s happening.

"I just meant that..." you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you calculate the right words to say how you've been feeling but not too acute that you sound crazy. He's looking at you more intently now as he watches you think. Patiently waiting for your response.

You meet his eyes- "Ever since the last time we hung out, when we went to that cafe, you've been sort of more reserved? I'm not sure if that's the right word or if I'm just imagining things."

Your face is flushed now but you're hoping the cover of night is making it hard to see. He squints his eyes slightly and now you can see the gears in his head turning.

His arms come forward and he crosses them in front of him for a moment; then they fall quickly to his sides, and he puts his hands into the front pockets of his sweats. It’s almost as if he found something particular he wanted to say but decided against it.

"If I'm being honest, I didn't realize I had been acting differently." He picks up his hat off his head, combs his hand through his hair, sets it back down on his head and sticks his hands back in his pockets.

You can see clearly now his brows are furrowed. You reach up and cover your eyes with one hand and rub them with your thumb and middle finger realizing now just how stupid it was for you to bring this up,

 "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to make you feel weird." Your hand drops down to see he has a grin back on his face. It's slight and his shoulders are pushed back into a more relaxed position now.

"Nonsense. I'm always weird." His grin widens, curled at the corners more with a small number of teeth showing. It softens when he continues. "But I'm glad you did bring it up because I suppose when I think of it, I have been a little distant and I'm happy to be more aware of it now."

You're not exactly sure what that means but you're too nervous to be direct and ask outright. Is he happy to be aware that he's been distant so he can try to not be? This is the first time in a while you've spoken about something so serious with him so you're unsure how to continue it.

You realize you've been silent for a little longer than anticipated as questions roll around in your head.

Instead of acknowledging his statement out loud you turn and point down the path. "There is a bench up ahead and it’s calling my name."

As you start moving ahead, you hear him chuckle and follow behind you. The air is slightly brisk now. But the heat over your body from the embarrassment of bringing that up makes you wish for a large cool breeze to wash over you.

You reach the bench quickly. It’s made from a log of wood, carved out with an L shape so you can sit and lean back against it. It’s quite small too. Just enough for two people to sit comfortably.

You sit on the farther end pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your legs as he tosses the water bottle into the trash and sits next to you, legs stretched out in front of him leaning back with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Ahhhhh" he sighs loudly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath inwards from his nose, his head tilted up at the sky. He looks stunning in this light. His sharp features are softer, more rounded in the low light of the moon. It’s almost as if you're in a black and white film. His eyes stay closed for a moment longer before they open to look at you, looking at him. Your lips press together, turning into a thin line of a barely visible smile.

He quirks one side of his lips up and pulls his hands out of his pockets to clasp them together and place them on his lap.

"So then, what made you decide to come? And don't tell me it was your excitement for fishing because I know that will be a lie," he says with a faux serious look on his face.

A loud laugh bursts from you "You're going to be so mad when I catch the biggest fish out of all of you tomorrow. I know I'm clumsy, but my luck is insurmountable."

You can tell he doesn't deny it by the shake of his head as he returns your laughter. But he doesn't respond, clearly waiting for your real answer. You drop your hands down to your sides and shuffle a bit in your position pulling your legs a little tighter inward towards your body. Thinking back to that initial invitation and the excitement he had when you accepted it, you realize that maybe it's not too serious of a thing to admit that you missed him...

"To be honest, it’s been a while since I had a really good laugh. If feels better when I get to laugh with you instead of at my phone." It's not the whole truth, but it's what you're willing to say at the moment.

"I'm glad I can bring you some relief." He raises his left arm and leans it back on the bench turning his body slightly towards yours. He gives you much more than just relief, but you're not sure how to tell him.

"Well, what made you want to invite me on this trip?" It's time for you to ask the questions.

You look over at him now, keeping your eyes as soft and clear as you can manage despite the craving in your chest to hear certain words come from him, trying desperately not to expect anything. He looks out across the river with a shy smile on his lips and then turns to look you right in the eyes and speaks softly -

"I missed you."

He said it. The thing you were too scared to say. Plain and simple. Your heart stutters a bit as you try not to make a face. Against your wishes your lips part as you take your next breath and then it turns into a smile. He can definitely see the red in your cheeks now because he stares more keenly.

A surge in your stomach flows through you at that moment. Something just clicked and became clear to you that you hadn't noticed before or even thought twice about. How come Seungmin did those things last night?

As far as you can remember, he has never done anything like that before when you we're over at their apartment. Even the times you drifted off to sleep on the couch after staying up too late watching something or talking with Minho. What was different this time?

His last words seem to embolden you for a moment as the next question slips past your lips quicker than you can vet them in your mind. "Did Seungmin do those things last night for a reason?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest now. You really didn't think you'd have the courage to ask that. You went from semi-innocent questions to one with a significant undertone. However he looks a little more nervous than you for a moment.

He chuckles anxiously but you're unsure if it’s at the awkwardness of your question, or at the surprise of what he wants to answer. His pause is drawn out a little longer -

"I told him not to do anything stupid, but you know how he is. When he gets an idea to mess with someone he rarely can be stopped. A while back, he may have figured out something even I wasn't fully conscious of yet."

The implications of his statement are not lost on you. While he's not outright saying what you believe he's thinking, you're quite used to the way he speaks. His eyes search yours; they are a bit darker now, piercing, and you fight desperately not to look away. The tension that has been here all weekend was not in your head.

He tilts his head to the side, still gazing at you like he knows you're lost for words. You've never been good with saying what you mean out loud and he knows this, but he's being patient with you.

"I...." You pause for a moment as you draw in a shaky breath. "Are you saying something has changed?".

Your hand comes up to your mouth as you fiddle with your bottom lip, a nervous habit of yours he knows well. He reaches up and grabs your hand to pull it away from your mouth and down between the two of you. He rubs a small circle over the top of your thumb as he's looking down at them gently clasped together -

 "It doesn't have to if you don't want it to," he says in a low voice.

It feels as if your head is spinning. This must be why he was so distant lately. Fighting with his own thoughts on how to speak to you with this new knowledge in his head. You think back to December, when you realized he had started acting a little strange.

"Why did you wait so long to say anything to me?!" It comes as a surprise to you too as the words come out.

His head falls back as he laughs, eyes creasing in the way that reminds you just of how much you adore him. His hand releases yours and moves to grab your ankle pulling your right leg out and across his lap. He trails a hand up your shin and grabs your calf as his head falls back down to look at you.

"I may be incredibly smart and handsome, but I can be an idiot sometimes too." His smile is sly and mischievous again. His words are silly, but you're suddenly snapped back into reality at the feeling of his hand on your skin. A current runs up your leg and straight into the center of your stomach.

Before you let yourself chicken out, you move your other leg out and across his lap turning to face him completely, immediately craving more touch. His arm moves to let you, and finds its way around both your legs, resting his arm across and his hand placed delicately on your knee.

Your hands come down in your lap as you look down at them, twisting a ring around on your finger. Your legs feel heavy like they want to press completely against his strong thighs. Having the courage to move closer still didn't change your nervousness to look into his eyes. Hoping silently that perhaps your body language is answering better than your words can. You’ve thought about this moment a lot. You've danced the words around in your head while speaking with him face to face. But saying them, that was different.

After a long moment, you speak up quietly -

"I would like that."

You hope he knows you are answering his question earlier about things changing between you two. You peek your eyes up at him, slowly raising your head. "For things to change," you say, just in case to clarify.

His eyes are softer now but he's biting his lower lip. Then the corner of his lips sweeps up again,

"Are you sure?" He asks after a beat, like he's letting your words sink around him.

You can feel the tension snap inside of you, and the only way you know how to make him feel what your body has been screaming for, is by showing him.

Your hands come up to his cheeks as you close your eyes and press a soft kiss to his lips, holding there for a moment. His lips are so soft, and you've wanted to kiss them for years. You feel his right hand slide up from your knee to the side of your thigh and squeeze lightly as his other comes up and lands on the back of your neck.

The nerves in your body light on fire. His hand on your neck guides your head to tilt a little and deepen the kiss. Pressing together a few more times, still gently. It feels surreal. You can smell his skin better now; a deep woodsy smell mixed with salt and some of his shampoo from his shower earlier. It's intoxicating and you want to inhale him completely. The mix of his hands on you and the closeness of your bodies kicks off a need in you.

He pulls away and you make a sharp inhale. Your eyes open to see his trained on yours. They are dark and lustful, ones you have never seen before. The look in his eyes feels almost as if he had to pull away and look at you like he needed to check and make sure you were real.

The next kiss is hungrier than the last. He shifts his body over on the bench to get closer to yours, his firm legs now pressing up against the bottom of your thighs closing the gap as far as he can.

He lets out a low "mmmm" at the back of his throat as your lips start moving faster, parting just enough to pull his lip into your mouth and suck softly. Dragging your teeth against his skin, drawing another noise from him.

The sound jolts your body and sends a spark straight down, deep in your center where everything is swirling, moving too fast for your mind to focus on. Your hands release from his face and slide down to his shoulders, running over his defined muscles, stopping to feel them, then wrapping around his neck and locking him in.

You can feel the vulnerable apprehension of your kisses as the speed continues to pick up. You want to taste him more. It feels like you should have been doing this forever. His hands let go of your face and neck, then are instantly at your hips. Clutching tightly. You shiver and your lips disconnect again.

"Come here." He says through a soft grin as he pulls you up and over him easily. Your legs spread over him until your knees are on either side and your ass is resting perfectly on his lap. It's very apparent now that he's starting to harden in his sweats. You press down against him, rolling your hips cautiously so you can feel him more, straddling his perfect frame.

His hands find your hips again as he grabs you, holding you down against him as his head falls back and lets out an excited sigh. You can't help but smile and delight in the way he looks crazed already.

"Why did it take so long for me to tell you?" He laughs as he leans back in to kiss you. This time, he dips his tongue out of his mouth and into yours. You moan as he swirls the muscle around in your mouth and you reciprocate. Languidly, taking your time to taste him.

You pull away after a minute, breathless and filled with desire- "I'm not sure, but I don't want to wait anymore."

He looks up at you and presses a hand to your cheek as he watches your eyes, hazy, filled with lust and staring at his lips. His thumb rubs back and forth on your cheek, "Should we go back to the tent?" He looks carefully at you waiting until your eyes meet his.

"Please." And you nod a few times. It's all the confirmation he needs before he stands up, holding you, wrapping your legs around him and starting to walk back the way you came.

His steps back start very fast. His hands grabbing your thighs tightly as they're wrapped around his waist. Your kisses had only just begun, and you don’t want to stop now. Your arms locked around his neck, pressing your lips to his over and over trying your best to line them up despite the awkward angle.

His right arm wraps itself around your back as his left holds you up by your ass. His steps slow as he pulls his head back and chuckles, "Despite not wanting to let go of you, If I don't put you down, I will likely trip and we will both go into the water."

He stops completely, attempting to let you down. Your legs tighten around him as you tilt his head back for another kiss; you finally have the right angle, passionate, pushing your tongue past his lips to taste him again.

Your tongues dance around each other, testing movements and finding a perfect rhythm. He moans as you pull on his bottom lip again, giving you confirmation that he likes it as much as you like doing it; there’s a small popping noise as you pull away.

"That's fair. Only because I know I'd have to rescue you, and I'm not sure I am strong enough." You giggle as you release your legs and connect your lips to his again. Not letting go from the kiss even as your feet are planted on the ground.

You step back and sigh, a little breathless from how hungry you were feeling in the moment. Everything is moving so fast your mind hasn't really taken a second to think about anything other than him. It all felt so natural, like it was meant to happen. Alone in nature, with your favorite person, mixing both your needs and wants together in a swirl of excitement.

He turns you around and gently but firmly slaps your ass to get you moving.

"I've spent years staring at your perfect ass. I need to see it without clothes on soon or I might die". He walks up next to you and puts his arm around your waist fiddling with the hem of your shirt, sending small shivers up your spine, guiding you quicker towards the camp.

Years?

"How long have you known?" You ask as you glance over at him.

"It's always been there." He's looking forward in contemplation.

"Well you said something changed. I guess... what was it?"

He takes a deep breath as he arranges his thoughts. His hand moving around your lower back in small circles as if he's grounding himself to you.

"I'm not sure anything changed really. I think it just became clearer." His hand moves again and closes around the base of your neck, possessively. You shudder a bit at how soft but strong his hands are, trying not to show how much that simple act turned you on.

"I started realizing things like how your voice made me feel. Like how it calms me when I'm feeling stressed- or how you match my energy when I'm excited about something. My thoughts became deeper, and it just clicked. I was nervous for a while, to mess things up between us, but I knew I didn't want you as 'just a friend' anymore."

Your belly whirls in warmth as you hear the words. You pull them apart in your mind. Embedding them into your memory. Then, your feelings quickly build in a vortex of restlessness seeing the path open to your campsite. You've had enough talking and you need him. Now.

He lowers his arm and strides in front of you a little bit to get to the tent, pulling the Velcro apart slowly, trying not to be too loud. You register quite quickly that his roommate’s tent isn't exactly next to yours, but still close enough that they could potentially hear you. You make a mental note of that as he holds a side open for you to step into your tent.

Hear you? Oh god, is this really happening?

His smile is playful, and his eyes are following you as you kick your sandals off and move past him through the opening.

The second you make it to the middle of the tent it becomes all too real what's about to happen. What you desperately want to happen. Your stomach tightens and your breath quickens as a panic fills your body mixed with anticipation.

But before the feeling takes over, you feel him pressed up behind you again, one hand is on your stomach and the other runs from one side of your collarbones to the other, then slowly up your neck, to your chin, guiding your head to the side to kiss him over your shoulder.

Your breath trembles but your body relaxes against his, immediately settling into his touch- bringing all those feelings down your body, tingling in your fingertips and building in your core. He held you like this earlier, but this time it was different.

Your lips move together as his hand leaves your chin, back down your neck to your chest where it slips beneath the top of your shirt and over your shoulder, the inner corner of his elbow around your neck.

You instinctively reach up to grab his arm feeling completely encompassed by him, running your fingers over his toned muscles. A short high-pitched whine escapes your mouth as his other hand slips under the bottom of your shirt placing his firm hand on your bare stomach.

"Your skin is so soft... I want to taste every inch of it..." He breathes out between you.

A chill runs down your spine at his low voice- as his lips come away from yours and smooth against your neck. Your head falls back onto his shoulder giving him better access as you moan quietly from the sensation.

Your back arches and your ass grinds back into his cock where you can feel it straining against his sweats. He moves his lips back and forth, teasing the skin, giving you goosebumps, then starts taking small bites and placing kisses anywhere his mouth can reach.

He leads the two of you forward, lips not leaving your neck, taking small steps towards the bottom end of the bed. As you reach it, his hands come back down to your waist and slowly turns you around.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you're face to face with him, his eyes are filled with desire, almost closed, with his mouth open slightly breathing deeply.

"You can," you reach out and put your hands on his chest, kissing him again. " You can taste it... you can have all of it..." Your words are whispers as you kiss him deeply. Making sure he feels your words, tastes the ache your body has for him.

You assume he receives it because his hands are pulling at your shirt now, asking to lift it up over your arms. You stick them up as you let him pull his old t-shirt up and over your head and onto a pillow on the bed. Your bra is still there, hiding what you know he wants to see. You feel a little shy for a moment, then pull it up and off, revealing your round full breasts for him.

"Fuck..." he says under his breath; then almost as if he senses your shyness at being topless in front of him, he yanks his shirt off over his head and presses your bodies together wrapping one arm around your back, leaning forward, pushing you slowly back onto the bed to lay on top of you.

He kisses you delicately now, like he's savoring the moment, lips coming together for soft pecks. Then moves to your cheek, down your neck, stopping first at the soft spot just below your jaw, shifting his body to start going lower. The way he's laying on you, fitting between your open legs so perfectly, you can't help but wrap them around him. You know he can feel the heat coming from your lower half.

He continues down your chest, kissing softly and tracing his hands down your sides. He takes his time with his mouth on each breast, starting on one, kissing the peak of your now very hard nipples, then swirling his tongue around and finally pulling them into his mouth- eyes closed, like he's truly relishing the taste of your skin. Your mouth parts and faint moans fall from you- shuddering every time he gently bites your nipples.

You've never felt your heartbeat so fast before, feeling like you may not even make it out of this alive at the rate your body reacts to his every touch. His hands come up and graze over your arms that lie flat against the bed as he continues his path of kisses down onto your stomach. Then they’re quickly at your waist pulling your body down, positioning your ass is at the edge of the bed. You gasp at the sudden movement, realizing what he wants to do.

"Lino..." your voice comes out in a whine as your eyes pinch shut for a second, body racing at just the thought of him between your legs.

"Hrmmm?" he hums out, his eyes not leaving your frame, hands tracing over every part of open skin he can come in contact with. You can’t form words to answer back, instead just squirming under his touch.

"May I take these off?" His hands cusp around the top of your jean shorts, one of his thumbs playing with the button as he looks up at you for confirmation. You lock eyes for the first time in a few minutes; he looks crazed but calm. You nod your head and lift from the bed slightly so he can unbutton and pull them off easier, down your legs and he tosses them towards your luggage.

You giggle a little as your shorts hit the pile - "So you can do that, but I can't?" Your voice is teasing but low.

He huffs and waves a hand "We'll talk about that later, right now I need you to do something for me."

You sit up on your elbows looking at him confused, his brows are bunched up and he licks his lips -

"I really need you to turn over so I can see your ass in these lace panties before I rip them off."

Your head tilts back as you laugh at how incredibly serious his face is with that statement, but quickly comply and roll over onto your stomach so he can get a clear view. You've always been proud of the shape and size of your ass. Never skipping squats when working out but never going too far so it stays soft and plump.

You hear him suck in a breath, hissing between his teeth as his hands come down to caress your cheeks. His thumbs go under the creases as he kneads into your soft skin getting as much of a handful his hands can allow. He pushes up with his palms and spreads your cheeks getting a clear view of how much you've soaked through your panties. Another sound escapes him, like he was holding his breath and blows the air out slowly.

You smirk at his intensity and wiggle your ass back and forth a little. A quick smack comes down on your right cheek that punches out a breath from you.

"mmmm...ohmygod" you purr out.

His hand quickly soothes over where he made the connection. "I had a feeling you'd like that." You can tell in his voice he's saying this through a smile.

Both of his hands slide up your back, then down to your ass, sliding flat up under your panties pulling them tight against your pussy, grabbing firmly now on your soft flesh. You're surprised by the cool, yet warm sensation of his lips followed immediately by a bite. You yelp quietly but intuitively push yourself into him more. He continues licking and biting each cheek, letting out soft grunting noises like he's a man starved who hasn't eaten in weeks.

His movements slow, lips trail down to where your panties are pulled tight against you, stopping right as he gets to the center. His hands push your legs apart slightly and lets out a breath, so warm against your aching skin. Your brain short circuits when you feel the first contact of his lips pressing a soft unrushed kiss on the fabric right over your clit leaving himself there for a moment. He pulls away and kisses again, with more pressure.

"Lino, please," you whine, your voice cracking a little.

*smack*

Another swift slap comes down, this time on your other cheek. Leaving no time for you to react he's yanking your panties down your legs and off you, before effortlessly turning you over. You're laying breathless for a moment, gathering yourself.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to do this," his lips meet your right thigh, trailing kisses up towards your center and propping your leg over his shoulder. "There will be no rushing through this."

He pushes your left leg out, opening you further for him and you're instantly aware that you are lying completely naked, spread out, in front of the man you've longed for all these years.

He takes his time tracing lines on your left thigh with his fingers while kissing your right until he's planting them right around exactly where you need him to be. You can hear his breath deepen for a moment, then licks a stripe from the bottom of your pussy up to the top and pulls your clit between his plush lips and sucks.

The moan that escapes you is loud. Your hands grip the blanket as your body is already crumbling from his mouth. His tongue drags along you again dipping into your center to taste all the wetness he's created from this antagonizing slow pace he's controlling. He hums in appreciation and starts to circle around your clit with his tongue with the most perfect amount of pressure.

He's always been pretty in tune with you from the get-go. But the way he seems to know what to do, what your body wants, is thrilling to you. You squirm and push against him, vying for some sort of control as you feel yourself getting hazy.

He carries on his work, expertly lapping at you and pulling you into his mouth to suck and swirl his tongue around. You prop yourself up on your elbows not wanting to miss the sight of him between your legs. His eyes are closed, seemingly peaceful, despite the ravening way his mouth and head are moving to do exactly what he said he wanted and taste all of you.

Your eyes flutter as a familiar sensation builds up in your body, but you force them to stay open looking down at the insane sight of the most beautiful man enjoying you. His eyes open as he hears your breath quicken. You lock eyes with his and your head spins, the muscles in your legs tightening. His eyes crease as he steadies to slowly trail his tongue up and down you again.

For a moment you're confused, your brows furrow and a whine escapes you. He giggles, then moves his right hand up to your face, bringing his middle and pointer finger together, touching your lips softly, staring intently at them. His tongue doesn't stop moving as he pushes his fingers past your lips, and you dutifully take them in your mouth, sucking on them and swirling your tongue around.

"Mmmm," you hum around his fingers, aware that you've been receiving so much pleasure from him and haven't even started giving him any.

He pulls his head up a little farther to better see your mouth around his fingers. His lips part slowly as he watches you - eyes closed giving his fingers all you can to show him how ready you are for your turn.

His mouth connects to your clit again with more fervor as he brings his now slick fingers down to your entrance. His eyes trained on you, he slowly teases you with the tips of his fingers watching your body and your face as you writhe on the bed. Then before you can get used to the idea of his fingers being down there, he slides them in.

Your head rolls back, and a long breathy moan leaves you followed by a quick breath in. If you were close earlier, you’re quite literally on the edge now.

He feels you clenching around him, your body reacting strongly to every one of his licks, sucks, the curls of his fingers and touches of his other hand on your body, gripping the flesh on your thigh.

"God, you look so beautiful," he says breathy while continuing his work.

Your moans are louder now and for a moment, with his words in your ears, you don't care. But as he continues to put more pressure on a particular spot within you, your whine almost becomes a yell, you quickly bring your hand up to cover your mouth as your start to fall from the edge. He's still staring at you but with soft eyes now, like he really means what he said.

The feeling crashes over you, rippling through your body fast as his fingers and mouth keep pace to help you through it, lips not leaving you once. It undulates through you, taking all the burning from your shoulders, down through your spine, exploding down your center all the way to the tip of your toes leaving a trail, hot in its place. Your arms give out and you fall back on the bed. He slows his movements, letting you ride it out, then sensing your sensitivity, presses slow soft kisses around and on your center removing his fingers.

"Fuck..." you say under your breath as your try to regulate the speed of your heaving chest, ripples still making their way through your body. Legs twitching as he soothes circles on your thighs.

He chuckles and stands up over you between your still open legs, leaning down on his hands to watch you gasp for air. His eyes are squinted, and his lips are curled up into a satisfied grin watching you with what looks like amusement on his face. 

He leans in and whispers in your ear, "I'd gladly do that every day if you'd let me."

Your eyes finally fix on his and you can't help but giggle a bit at your euphoric feeling. His legs start to move forward, pressing into your thighs, pushing your legs and body up farther on the bed. Before he settles down on his knees reaching down for a kiss, you put your hands up to his chest stopping him.

He tilts his head inquisitively and it’s your turn to smirk. You lift yourself up on the bed to sit upright, legs still spread around him, pushing him down on his heels between you and taking his mouth in another heated kiss.

His lips are soft and slick and feel puffy from all his hard work. You kiss them gently as your hands trail down his chest to his stomach right to the hem of his grey sweats.

His hands come up to trace your sides and then find their place on the side of your breasts thumbing your nipples softly and palming at the smooth skin. A moan hits the back of your throat between your kisses, and you pull back to look up at him, tugging on his sweats for permission to pull them down.

You've spent a lot of time looking at Minho since you've known him. You've seen him without a shirt on before once or twice, albeit briefly. But never in this context - and the way he looks now, in the low lamp light from the corner of the room, looking down at you with a blaze in his eyes and his chest rising and falling in anticipation. You're certain he is the most stunning creature to walk this planet.

He must have seen the reverence in your eyes because he reaches out to push a piece of hair behind your ear and smiles sweetly at you. You have to remind yourself of the task at hand before you get lost appreciating him. You trail your eyes back down to the now extremely noticeable bulge in his pants.

You lick your lips, "May I?" As you go back to tugging on his sweats, mimicking what he asked you earlier.

He laughs, "You may."

You pull them down along with his boxers, freeing his cock from its strain. It bounces heavily right in front of your face, and you swallow eagerly. It shouldn't be a shock to you how pretty it is. The skin looks like velvet, soft pink and perfectly adorned with a few veins tracing the sides creating perfect patterns for you to touch. His length perfect, his thickness mirroring his thighs. You wrap your hand around the base and squeeze.

His body tenses and he sucks in a hiss as you lick his tip, savoring his flavor with your eyes closed, rolling your tongue around in your mouth. You look up at him with big eyes as you wrap your lips around him embracing his warmth on your tongue.

You start slow just as he did with you. Bobbing your head on his tip, whirling your tongue around - appreciating the feeling of his now fully hard cock in your hand. His head falls back for a moment when you take him further then quickly snaps back to watch you. Your eyes crease as you see the haze in his eyes as his hand comes forward to find its rightful place at the back of your neck.

Your stomach flutters at the feeling which drives you to relax your throat and take him as far as you can, only stopping when your breathing is cut off, but you stay and swallow a few times eliciting a deep groan from him. A sound you're sure you've never heard before but crave to hear again.

Pulling back, you take another deep breath, using the slick you've created on him to twist your hand up and down his length, following with your mouth moving your head side to side.

After a while of creating a pace and soaking in all the beautiful moans and gasps coming from his lips, you break it suddenly, thrusting him down your throat to the base again and stopping to look up at him. His lips are almost in a snarl, his teeth gritted, chest heaving. For the first time all night he says your name; not the cute nickname you pretend to hate but fold inwards on yourself every time he speaks it. Your real name, coming out in the most lustful moan.

He pulls your head back with his strong grip on your neck, slowing his breathing, and relaxing his face, looking at you with fire in his eyes.

"You have no idea how crazy you make me feel," he lets out a long shuddering sigh.

"If you don't stop now, I'm not going to last."

Your hand grips his base a little tighter while still holding his gaze, he shakes his head and lets out a weak laugh with a smile on his lips.

"Then you better push me back on this bed, because I don't want to stop," you stick your tongue out and quickly swipe his tip.

You can see his vision go blurry for a second then his attention snaps back, reaching his hands down to your thighs gripping them and pulling them off the bed, your arms instinctively wrap around his neck to steady yourself, as he hoists you up towards the pillow in a flash.

You land on your back surprised but with a smile adorning your face. He steps off the bed and lets his sweats fall to the floor stepping out of them, powerful legs on full display for you. He drops his hand and lazily strokes himself while looking at you on the bed, his eyes all over your body, like he's making a map of it in his mind. Committing every detail to memory.

A mischievous look comes over his face again as he slowly takes a few steps over towards his bag, where you know he slipped the box of condoms in from last night.

"Wait," you squeak out, fast but quiet.

He turns to you with questioning eyes.

"If you don't mind... we can go without. I'm clean." Your eyes fall down a little. "I really want to feel you..." You take a breath and glance back up at him through your eyelashes.

His eyes are soft but serious, and you can see a hint of thrill in them.

"Are you sure?" He asks raising an eyebrow.

Your eyes roll back softly, still with a smile on your face as you sigh, mildly annoyed at his competence in always making sure things are above water and safe. You raise your arm and tap your bicep a few times hoping he gets what that means,

"For fucks sake Lee Minho, yes, I'm sure. Please get over here before I scream," and you flop back against the pillow.

He chuckles softly but wastes no time, practically jumping on the bed between your thighs, plastering himself against the front of your body. Your lips meet again, and he cages you in with his forearms on both sides of your head. You share a few giggles between kisses as you shake off your declaration becoming aware of his weight pouring over you.

He's leaning over you, pressed against you so fiercely, you can feel his cock throbbing against you and your attention quickly pulls to your core. Your heart begins thumping in your chest again and you shudder when he does a tentative roll of his hips, sliding his cock along your wetness. Your lips fall from his as you suck in air. Breathing deep in the stillness of the moment.

He lets his lips trace your jaw, up to your ear and hums before nibbling right below it, still rolling his hip leisurely.

"I've watched your body from afar for so long." He licks your neck raising goosebumps over your arms.

"The way your hair falls delicately on your shoulders." He kisses you there earning a soft moan from you.

"How you always wear the most perfect fitting jeans to show off your curves." He bites into your lower neck sending a ripple through you.

"Your perfect lips saying my name." He kisses you so delicately on your lips that you think you might cry.

"And now your here, under me, and I never want to lose this." He kisses you with more heat and you have never felt more whole, more alive, with sparks coursing through your body, his words filling every crack and fiber of your being.

"Minho..." His name is a whisper between your kisses, and you feel him reach down a hand. He softly rubs the tip of his cock from the bottom up, spreading your wetness around and massaging your clit. Your breath hitches in your throat in anticipation as he captures your mouth in another kiss. Drowning your thoughts.

He pulls away from the kiss and settles his piercing gaze, looking into your eyes as he lines up with your entrance and slowly pushes in. Nothing could have prepared you for how good it feels. His tip pressing in slowly, filling your warmth and stretching you out so perfectly. The intimacy of the moment and his words still lingering in your ears makes your eyes shut, mouth parting as your arms wrap around his waist.

He bottoms out and stays there. All you can hear is both of your breath, lingering in the space between you. Soaking in the feeling of the moment. It feels like pure bliss. But you need more. You clench around him and his breathing stutters for a moment. You open your eyes to see him looking at you with a beautiful half smile on his face.

You smile back and kiss him, gripping his waist urging him to move. He starts to roll his hips in slow drawn-out circles, hitting every space, every inch within you. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly the knot in your stomach tightens, as he finds a steady rhythm, angling his thrust to hit the right spot. Those damn dancers’ hips.

You've been dreaming of this for so long. And now he's here, in your arms, between your legs and inside of you and everything feels right for the first time in forever. You want to take your time, but your body is a traitor and desperate for more. Moving your hips now to meet his thrust, he leans over on one elbow, using his free hand to roam over your body, grabbing at any and all of your skin, picking up his pace.

It seems as though he senses your impatience, because he readjusts, sitting up on his knees more while his hands come down to your hips to pin you to the bed. You had been cautious of your volume for so long now but the sound that escapes you in that moment is inevitable. You reach up to cover your mouth hoping to quell any more sounds, but he quickly pulls it away and pushes it up above your head.

"No, don't be quiet. I need to hear your every sound. Whoever else hears it, had it coming." His concentration is fierce as he says those words to you, making your stomach coil in heat, head rushing, and whimpers fall from your lips.

You’re certain you’ll be slightly embarrassed tomorrow, but your mind quickly pushes those thoughts aside as your need to give him what he wants overpowers everything else. Your moans grow louder, and your repeating his name through choked out breaths. Your hand that's not secured under his tight grip, finds its way to his arm that's now caressing your thigh to trace his skin.

He looks devastatingly elegant yet rugged above you. Chest heaving, eyes trained down towards where you meet in the middle. Where he’s driving into you, straight towards absolute pleasure. He looks up at you eyeing him, licks his lips, and a sly smile paints his features. As if it were even possible, he pushes up closer against you, using his arm to hook under your knee angling your body even more to hit the most perfect spot over and over again.

A wildfire courses through your veins as your eyes roll back, clenching around him again, quickly approaching your release. You can hear his breathing becoming a little more erratic as his hips stutter a few times giving you the knowledge that he’s not far behind. You use your free hand to grab his arm that's holding yours down and pry it away licking and sucking on his fingers quickly before guiding them down between your bodies.

"Touch me," you ask softly.

You can see the wild excitement in his eyes as he starts rubbing your clit in perfect circles with determination. It doesn’t take long before you’re gripping the sheets tightly beside you, arching your back, ready for the wave to crash over you. He sucks in a deep breath hearing you let out a sinful moan as you’re shaking under him and your second ripple of pleasure streaks down your body.

Your legs try to move and tighten him in a vice grip once the over sensitiveness snakes through your thighs, but his hands are quick to act. He slides both his hands up the back of your legs landing in the crook of your knees and pushing them forward towards your chest. Your breath is pushed out of you once his weight is pressed firmly against your front with forearms flat on the bed, caging you in.

His eyes have never looked more powerful, almost as if he's looking straight into the most secret, venerable part of yourself that you didn't even know existed. His mouth parts and his hot breath only feeds your desire to have him closer, stomach still fluttering in the aftershock. Wiggling your arms free you reach out and caress his face, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb before pulling it into your mouth, humming at his delicious sounds and taste.

"Fuck, I'm..." he mumbles into your mouth, but you don't give him a chance to finish his sentence.

"I know. I want it. I want it so bad, please." You lick into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck- feeding your fingers through his hair, gripping him as close as you can. You feel his body tense and eyes go wide at your statement and he's gone. Hissing through his teeth, he picks up pace; his head buried in your neck, teeth latching on for a moment followed by the deepest groan that vibrates through your body.

His warmth radiates through you, pushing himself as deep as he can with each slowing pump, hips flush with your ass as he softly trembles through his release. You slip your hands down his back rubbing soft circles and scratching ever so gently as he pants in your ear.

His hands find your legs again as he guides them down and secures them around his waist, still seated deep within you. Your breathing and heartbeats are still settling together as he turns his head to look at you -

"That was, " he huffs out a few low laughs as a smile forms on his lips, and he kisses your jaw, "I don't think words can describe it." He kisses the side of your lips and neck a few more times as he leans up on one elbow, placing a hand on your waist.

A sense of shyness briefly floods you as you turn your head to the side and cover your lips with the tips of your fingers, blushing slightly. He reaches up and pulls your fingers from your mouth, kissing them lightly. You can see adoration in his eyes as he takes in the pink that has flushed over your cheeks and chest.

"That was long overdue." Your smile is relaxed. Your eyes soft on his. You take your fingers locked with his back towards your mouth and repay the soft kisses.

He looks down between the two of you. Wrapped together, sticking sweetly at the skin touching, and slowly starts to pull his body from yours. As he disconnects from you, a shiver runs down your spine at the lack of contact and he rubs your legs while getting up from the bed.

Once again, you're amazed at his silhouette gracefully making his way over to the wooden shelf, grabbing some wipes and a towel.

Your body lays still for him as he delicately cleans you; tracing your finger tip up and down from your navel to your collarbones, eyes closed, basking in the sweet afterglow of the moment. An hours ago, your thoughts were racing, so many uncertainties in the air. Skin prickling anxiety at unsaid feelings and questions floating behind your eyes. But now that comfortable silence sits in the air between you again.

"Scootch," he giggles, as he jostles you to the side with his knee; he pulls the covers out from under you, climbs in and settles them up over the two of you. He reaches out and nestles you in close, your arms pushed up between your chests, face pressed to the column of his neck. You take a deep breath of him, feeling the sudden weight of sleep and the day settle over your skin.

"Don't keep things from me anymore, ok?" Your mouth is in a straight line, slightly pouted, but your eyes are round and playful as you look up at him.

His face is soft, and you can see a hint of mischief behind his eyes before he closes them, kisses your nose and speaks low but just loud enough for you to hear -

"You're stuck with me now. I'm never letting go."

[justiceforvillains]

Accidental Confession in the Wrong Group Chat : Lee Know

───────────♡̆̈─────────────

➽ Summary: Hyunjin meant to put all skz in a group chat but instead of putting I.N he accidentally put Y/N in it

➽ Genre: Crack, Humor and Fluff

➽ Warnings: Hyunjin being put in the air fryer

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fake texts are really fun I might start doing more of those

✦ Masterlist ✦

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

Oh, How I Hate Him

Pairing: bad boy!Minho x student council prez!fem!reader (college au) Genre: angst, fluff Word count: 8k >.> Warnings: college idiots, mention of drinking, drugs, smoking O_O DONT DO ANY OF THAT, cringe romance, enemies to lovers, dick exboyfriend. protective Minho >.> <.< thats it i think????

a/n: did I intend for this to be smut? Yes. is it? no. do i mind tho? absolutely not someone help me come up with a better title...

You inhaled deeply and smiled contentedly as you entered the student council office.

"Good morning Ms. President." Your friend and vice president, Jia, said.

You gave her a side eye. "I said don't call me that."

"I'm sorry." She giggled, "Yuna, schedule today?"

"We have to collect signatures for lowering student parking costs and start the campaign for the cafeteria to be expanded and renovated this summer, you also have to meet with the principal to discuss how the high schoolers are going to tour the campus, " Yuna, the student council secretary and planner named off things from the list.

You nodded, "Not too much." You checked your watch, "I have a class at 8:30 and I haven't gotten my coffee yet, any of you want to come with me?"

Jia and Yuna looked at you, with are you for real right now man? faces before getting up and grabbing their bags to go with you.

You went to the cafeteria and as you were getting your iced americano, a student came up to you.

"Y/n, can you sign here to help keep our debate program alive? The district is trying to cut off our funding to have our formal debate team dissolved." The boy handed you a clip board and a pen.

You signed your name before picking up your coffee, "I'm running a little late, Yuna, can you take the papers on my desk to the principal's office?"

"Sure." Yuna picked up her own coffee and ran off.

You briskly made your way across campus and checked your watch, 8:25 AM, right on time. You entered the history classroom and smiled, "Good morning." You greeted your professor before going to sit, not too close to the front, not too far back, and not perfectly situated in the middle.

As the classroom filled, your friend, Seungmin, leader of the science olympiad team sat beside you.

"You're a bit late don't you think?" You teased, taking out your notes.

"Not everyone i always going to be as punctual as you, Madam President."

You rolled your eyes.

The chatter in the classroom died as the teacher stepped to the front of the class, "Good morning class, as you know this is the only history class you have to take to meet the graduation requirements. So, if you intend to slack in my class just know your future depends on your performance in this cl-" She was cut off.

The door opened and you looked away from the teacher seeing a man with redish brown hair and a leather jacket at the door, he had pretty eyes and small but plump lips. His eyes raked over the class for a moment before he looked at the teacher, "Sorry, I'm late."

"You are?" She raised a brow.

"Minho. Lee Minho." He said, walking into the class and going up the steps to the back of the classroom, he passed you and your eyes met. He smirked slightly and you made a face, not bothering to watch where he sat.

"I hope you won't be late again, Mr. Lee." The teacher said.

"No promises." He said.

She pursed her lips before continuing her speech about the importance of the class, where to find the resources, the books you'd need, the minimum grade you'd need to pass the final and so on. A snicker made Seungmin look over his shoulder.

Minho was sitting beside a guy with chubby cheeks and big eyes. Han Jisung, who, raised a brow at you and Seungmin as if to ask what.

The teacher kept talking and Minho and Jisung's distractions persisted before finally the teacher, who you now knew as Mrs. Jung snapped. "Gentlemen, is there something that's important enough to interrupt my lesson?"

Minho looked a bit surprised and Jisung blinked a few times.

"No.. ma'am." Minho said tentatively.

"Mr. KIm," Mrs Jung said.

Seungmin looked up a bit confused. "Ma'am?"

"Swap seats with Mr. Lee."

Your mouth fell open, SAY SOMETHING! SAY NO! ASK HER POLITELY TO RETHINK HER DECISION. "Ma'am I really think-" You started.

"As the student body president and one of the three candidates for valedictorian of your graduating class, Y/n, I think you'd be a good influence on Mr. Lee." She reasoned.

Seungmin put his notes in his bag and sighed deeply. "It's fine Y/n, we'll talk later anyway." He went up the steps and waited on Minho to collect his things before sitting next to Jisung.

You looked at Minho as he sat beside you. This was going to be a rough semester.

You went to the student council office after class to handle what Yuna had told you about in the morning and as you set your bag down you bristled, staring at the stack of papers on your desk. The same stack of papers you told Yuna to take to the principal that morning. You sighed and grabbed the papers and left the office, walking briskly down the hall and to the administration office, greeting the schools secretary before setting down the papers in the principal's office.

You went to return to the student council office, pulling out your phone to check over things when you passed the entrance to the arts department. You froze as you saw something in the corner of your eye, looking up to see Hyunjin and a guy in a hoodie.

You raised your hand and opened your mouth to wave but stopped yourself. Who was that guy anyway... You shrugged and went back to the office to handle your things.

You started counting the signatures the other members of the council left on the table, you let out a soft sigh of frustration, for people who complained about it being too much to park on campus, they really, REALLY, did not seem to mind that much.

You went back to your apartment and greeted your roommate, Doyeon, who, was sitting on the couch eating your snacks.

"HEY! Those are mine!" You huffed.

"Are they??!" She looked genuinely shocked.

You rolled your eyes and went to go change before sitting beside her and munching on the snack too.

"Oh, Yeongs-" she started.

"Save it." You said, looking at your phone.

"But he-"

"DODO!" You looked at her. "No. You told me not to be persuaded by him, you shouldn't be either."

"But he seemed genuinely sorry." She muttered.

"He always seems someway." You rolled your eyes and looked back at your phone. You got a notification from instagram suddenly.

You looked at Doyeon. "Does EVERYONE on campus have my instagram?"

She looked away from the TV, "Why are you asking so suddenly?"

"No reason." You muttered, looking back at your phone before following Minho back. He and his stupid self.

The following day Minho was late, much to your delight, you took notes and listened to the teacher for about the Egyptians and the Romans. Twenty minutes late, Minho strolled into class and sat beside you, not bothering to take out his books or anything.

"Good morning Madam President." He whispered.

"You could at least try to get here on time." You said, quickly scrawling down something Mrs. Jung had said.

"You could at least try to relax sometimes." He shot back rolling his eyes.

"If you're going to be late," You slid the first part of the notes to his side of the desk, "Play catch up."

Minho pursed his lips before sighing and taking the notes, he wrote them down faster than you expected, sliding them back to you after about five minutes and peeking at the sheet you were working on. You didn't say anything until as you were writing, he kicked you under the desk. You looked at him.

He was following along with the teacher as if he hadn't done anything. You rolled your eyes and went back to working. Minho's antics persisted until the and of class and as you were packing up your stuff you turned in a bit of frustration back to your desk to see more papers.

Minho was talking to the girl across the isle, she giggled at something he said and you grabbed the papers and pulled out a folder, arranged it neatly then put it carefully into your bag.

You were about to go when you realized your water bottle wasn't in your bag. You looked around your area for a moment before you clenched your fists at the sight of your bottle in MInho's lap.

You grabbed it and were about to leave when he held up your phone.

"LEE MINHO!" You fumed, grabbing your phone and storming out.

"You seem mad-" Jia said, steering clear of your volcanic rage as you threw your things onto the table.

Some of the members of the council squeaked and took off running.

"I hate Lee Minho." You practically growled as you sat in your chair.

A few days later you had worn a pair of heels for a meeting and they had been hurting your feet. You grimaced slightly while getting your coffee and Hyunjin sighed.

"You don't have to wear those shoes y'know." He sighed.

"I have to build habit." You huffed.

Yet when you got to class you really wished you didn't have to "build habit". But you wouldn't admit Hyunjin was right either. So you suffered through the entirety of class and somehow made it to the student council office. The moment you sat down and sulked over your feet you got a text.

You looked at your phone and rolled your eyes at the sight of Minho's contact. You ignored the "You look like you stepped on a lego" text and tried to turn to your work when another text came to your phone.

"Don't ignore my texts." followed by a "Call down your guard dog."

You stared in confusion for a moment before opening your phone and responding finally.

You opened the door to see Seungmin glaring at Minho.

"Y/n tell this hooliga-" He started.

"What do you wa-" You interrupted Seungmin only to be cut off by a pair of slippers being thrusted into your face.

"Wear comfier shoes. You look like you've been in pain all day. Idiot." Minho turned on his heel and walked away.

You blinked in shock for a moment. "Did he just.."

"You give her the slippers?" Hyunjin asked as Minho blitzed into the dance studio.

"Yeah..." He relaxed as he realized he was safe. He must've looked like an idiot. But when you were leaving the campus that evening Minho saw you and Seungmin walking to thee latter's car. A small smile came to his face as he saw you were wearing the slippers.

The next few months were packed for you, your teachers piled work on you like there was no tomorrow, and you wrote essay after essay. Business with the student council wasn't much better as Jia got sick with something and the campus tour date was coming closer and closer.

And Minho? Oh how you hated him. You hated the way he walked and talked and how he seemed to understand things without reading too much. You hated how he smirked at you in the hall way and how he got under your skin.

"I'm going to assign you your first project of the semester," Mrs Jung said from the front of the class.

You sucked in a breath and looked at your already stuffed bag, full of books and papers for your other classes.

"You will work in pairs." She said, "The rubric and criteria needed are online, if you have any issues feel free to ask me. I will assign partners now."

You exhaled shakily, Please don't be Minho. Please don't be Minho Please don't be Minho-

"Kim Seungmin and Baek Soojin," She said, "Han Jisung and Park Junho,"

Please don't be Minho!

"Soo Dokyung and Jin Sungwoon."

GOD IM BEGGING PL-

"L/n Y/n and Lee Minho."

You wanted to die on the spot.

"Woulda look at that prez, we're a team." Minho whispered, smirking at you.

You bit your lip. This wasn't so bad, he seemed pretty good at turning in his stuff on time and was mostly accurate. You had everything under control. You took a deep breath and looked at him. "If this is going to work we need to distribute the work fairly. So, I'll research the fall of the roman empire and you research the rise, we'll have a document to collect references and-" You head throbbed for a moment and you grabbed your forehead.

"Are you okay?" Minho tilted his head, brows furrowing.

You nodded, "I'm fine."

Only you weren't because after class you went to the student council office and sat at your desk.

"Y/N are you okay?" Yuna asked as you held your head, sucking a deep breath before continuing with your work.

"Yeah I'm good." You said taking out your computer and getting ready to work.

"You look a little pale.." She muttered.

You still got to work on your research though, Yuna left after a while, telling you to take care of yourself and relax. Earlier than usual you finally decided to head out, calling a cab and-

"What's the president doing here so late?"

You looked at Minho, who was carrying a duffel bag and his keys. "Work," You said, looking at the road waiting for your cab.

He stared at you for a moment. "Are you okay?"

You turned to him, "Why are you so concerned if I'm alright today? I'm fine, thanks." You said a bit harshly.

He made a face, "You just look really burnt out. It's late, let me give you a ride."

"I already have a ride on the way, Minho," You shut him down fast and he pursed his lips.

"Whatever you say, Madam President." He walked away to the parking lot and you couldn't help but feel a pang in your chest, like you'd gone too far.

Your cab came and you made it back to your apartment, Doyeon was the third person to point out your sickly appearance but the only one who actually made it to feeling your head and gasping at how hot you were.

"What the hell Y/N?! Are you trying to kill yourself?!! Come on!" She dragged you to your bed and made you put your stuff down and change before getting you into bed. "You aren't going anywhere ma'am." She said, "You sit here and get better, Nurse Doyeon will take care of you."

"I'd rather die." You teased.

She pouted, "Meanie."

You rolled your eyes and smiled at your friend, "Thank you Dodo."

"Of course y/nnie."

If you felt like shit at school, that was only the beginning, you whined in pain at your sore throat and Doyeon had to convince you to eat even though it hurt to swallow. After you finally finished the noodles and all the soup Doyeon made you, she made you take medicine for your throat and to reduce your fever before letting you sleep finally.

Only as you were drifting of you thought about history and mentally berated yourself for not studying ahead for the lessons. You were about to grab your laptop when your phone buzzed. A message from Minho.

Minho stared at his phone for a moment, he thought about how you seemed a but more irritable and pale and how your usual upright, perfect posture was slackened. So he did do his research that night, and looked at his cat Dori, "She's so uptight. It's not fair.."

The cat mewed softly.

"You're right, I'll give her something tomorrow." Minho muttered, "Maybe she's overworking herself. You think she likes pasta? Or maybe I should make her strawberry cake..."

In the morning, Minho was getting ready for class when his phone rang, he pulled his shirt over his head and grabbed it, answering the call.

"Hyunjin?" He said, putting the phone on speaker.

"You coming today? Changbin might come too." Hyunjin said on the other end.

"Y'know I have a project to work on." Minho said fixing his hair in the mirror.

"Man, just a few hours."

"Yeah, nah." Minho said.

"Alright, your loss." He went quiet for a moment, "Did you see Y/n yesterday?"

Minho thought about how you looked so tired the day before. "Yeah."

"I'm a little worried y'know." Hyunjin sighed. "She never says anything when she doesn't feel well. But oh well, we'll see later."

Minho thought about what Hyunjin had said the entire way to class and for once, he was on time, sitting in his seat waiting for you. The classroom filled, the teacher entered, and you... never came.

He fidgeted slightly. Where were you? For the first time since he walked into that history class—much to Mrs. Jung and Seungmin's shock—Minho took notes. He jotted down things that were important and little details on the side, he underlined and highlighted did his best to seperate definitions and dates from key material as he'd seen you do.

After class he went to the student council office. This was abnormal. Where were you? You would never miss class even if you didnt have a ride and had to walk the entire way... in flip flops (as if you ever would) YOU WOULD BE AT SCHO-

"If you're looking for the president she's not here today." The secretary said.

"Why? Is she ok-" Minho started only to stop himself, "No problem."

He went to the arts department to see Hyunjin.

"Thought you weren't coming today?" The long haired man said, taking a hair band between his teeth so he could gather his hair.

"Came to say hi, I've got work to do." Minho shrugged.

"OH, 'cause Y/n isn't here?" Hyunjin giggled as he tied his hair.

Minho made a face. "Really wanna go that way?"

"No sir.." Hyunjin laughed nervously as Jisung and Changbin walked in.

"Minho! You came! Man we c-" Jisung said only to be cut off by Minho patting his head and moving him, hands at his waist.

"I came to say hi," Minho smiled, "I'm going now, I have work to do."

Jisung pouted. "It's cus Y/n is sick isn't it?"

Minho took a deep breath. "I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

When he left he made another copy of his notes in color, hole punched them, and put them in a nice folder before he went to his apartment. He stared at his phone.

"You should text her." Chan said over his shoulder.

"Why would I?" Minho looked at his friend. "Nah." He tossed his phone onto the couch and went to the kitchen and got to work making soup.

Jeongin appeared at his side. "Whatcha making?"

"It's not for you guys." Minho said, rolling his eyes.

"Then who is it for?" Chan said, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah." Jeongin huffed.

Minho's mouth opened and he closed it again, deciding it was better to not say anything. Somehow he managed to get the food out of the apartment without either man getting it. He drove to your apartment and went up to your floor before raising his hand to knock on the door, he stopped himself.

Stop being an idiot... he thought before knocking on the door and waiting for a moment.

A girl with long hair and big eyes stared at him for a moment. "You are?" She said, leaning against the door frame.

Minho looked at her, "Lee Minho, Y/n's friend."

"Oh?" the woman got in his face. "What exactly makes you think you're Y/n's friend?"

"I- Well-" Minho stuttered.

"Doyeon."

Minho looked past the woman at you and sucked in a breath, you stood there wearing a pair of pajama pants and a baggy shirt.

"You know this guy?" the woman, Doyeon, questioned, pointing at Minho.

"He's the guy I'm doing the project with." You said, before clearing your throat and coughing in your elbow.

"Eesh, back to bed." Your roommate started ushering you back to your room and motioning for Minho to enter.

He closed the door behind him and put the food down in your kitchen but you pulled away from Doyeon and sat on the couch, arms out towards the man.

Doyeon looked between you for a moment. "I'll uh- Leave y'all to it-"

"Minho give me the damn food." Your eyes narrowed.

He smiled slightly and looked around your kitchen before finding a bowl and spoon with Doyeon's help. He got you some soup and carefully brought it to you.

You took it from him and took a cautious sip, eyes lighting up at the taste of it. "AH! Minho! You saved me! Doyeon's food was going to kill me!"

"HEY!" Your roommate huffed.

Minho laughed. "I'm glad you like it. You could've told me you were sick. We're par- friends no?"

You looked at him for a moment. "Yeah. My fault.."

He shook his head and handed you the folder. "Catch up Madam President."

You looked at the folder for a moment before looking at him, "I- thank you."

Minho somehow managed to suppress the smile that wanted to come to his face. "Yeah, whatever, just make sure you get better, taking notes is hard." He muttered.

You rolled your eyes.

After Doyeon went to bed, Minho persuaded you to also go to sleep, he made you take more medicine for your cough.

"You'll be back tomorrow or the day after?" he asked.

"The day after probably, in case I'm still contagious." You said softly.

He hummed. "I'll take good notes then."

You laughed lightly. "Thank you really.."

"The president can't fall behind because of an illness."

You smiled. "Idiot.."

He smiled gently. "Go to sleep, I'm going to leave before your friend jumps to conclusions."

You huffed a laugh. "Okay."

"Alright... Sleep well Y/nnie." He said as he left your room.

"Good night Min..."

Minho closed your bedroom door and made his way out of your apartment, making sure to lock the door before leaving. He leaned against your door as he closed it. "Dummy..." He muttered. "Relax it's good for you.." He said softly before walking down the hall to the elevator.

You did manage to come in to class the day after and you were immediately greeted by the student council in a bit of disarray because of the upcoming campus tour.

"Excuse me!" You clapped your hands to get the people's attention.

They all looked at you before Yuna jumped on you.

"OH Y/N I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE BACK!" She squealed.

"Schedule." You smiled at her.

"Yes ma'am!" She jumped into her her chair and spun for a moment before slamming her hands on her desk. "The high schoolers will be touring our campus the day after tomorrow, on Monday you have your speech in front of the administration and you have a scheduled meeting with a student later.

You nodded.

The people in the room stared at you for a brief moment.

"WELL?!" Jia shouted all of a sudden. "GET TO WORK WE CAN'T HAVE CHAOS WITH HIGH SCHOOLERS ON CAMPUS!"

The students started scrambling to get things done and you stood and went to history, greeting your teacher and apologizing for your absence before going to sit beside Minho.

"You're late." He smirked.

You checked your watch, you were three minutes later than usual. "You're suspiciously early."

"It's becoming a habit. You're rubbing off on me." He shuddered slightly.

You pushed him gently and he turned to look at you, as if asking you seriously just shoved him like that.

"I hope you don't rub off on me." You smiled.

Minho rolled his eyes.

Mrs. Jung started class and you kicked off quickly, you had to admit, Minho was a decent note taker.

After class you went to your office and fixed yourself a bit, waiting for the student who wanted to meet you. You opened your lip gloss and were in the middle of applying it to your lips when you heard a voice you dreaded to hear..

"Dolling up for me?"

You froze, looking at your mirror.

"Y/n?" Yeongsu said in a sing-song voice, you felt icky with how he drew your name out slowly, taunting you... "You haven't answered my calls, thought I'd pay you a visit." he grabbed the tiny cat figure you had on your desk.

You closed the mirror and looked at him. "Why are you here?"

"I got worried when I heard you were sick." He sighed, walking around your desk and kneeling, he tried to take your hand in his, "After all, you're my girl.."

You pulled your hand back roughly and glared down at him. "I am not yours. If you have nothing to talk about please leave."

Yeongsu cocked a brow. "I'm not one of your little student council members you can order around, Y/n." He stood.

"Leave." You said more firmly.

He reached his hand out to caress your cheek and you grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch me," You said through grit teeth, "Leave now."

He stared at you for a long moment and you held your breath. Yeongsu pulled away and rolled his eyes, "You're still so uptight." he muttered, reaching into his pocket and taking out a cigarette. "That's fine," He looked at you. "I like it when you fight back."

You bristled.

He lit the cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling slowly. "If only they knew their perfect president ended up in my be-"

"Get out!" You shouted, springing from your seat so fast it hit the wall with a loud bang.

Jia opened the door to the office at that sound and stared in shock at Yeongsu.

He smirked taking another drag in the silence, exhaling and then whispering, "You're not all that amazing, Madam President."

You stared at your desk, trembling with rage as he walked out of the room.

"Y/n.." Seungmin ran in and stared at Yeongsu as he left before running to you. "Y/n-"

"Open the windows.." You muttered, the smoke choking you, no, the thought of that bastard choking you.

"Wh-" Jia started.

"Open a damn window!" You shouted before falling into your seat, burying you face in your hands. "Please..."

Seungmin ran to the side of the room and began opening the windows.

You took a few deep breaths, "Let's get ready for the tour..."

While finalizing the plans for the tour, Jia and Yuna left before you as most of the council did, you sent emails to the schools that would be coming and arranged for food for the students. You were so engrossed in your work you didn't notice the sky darkening and were only pulled out of your grind by the rumble of thunder.

You looked out the window as rain droplets started pelting against the window. "Crap." You looked around your desk for an umbrella and cursed as you found nothing in its usual spot.

You grabbed your stuff and shoved it into your bag before heading to the front of the school, you opened your phone about to call a cab.

"Y/nnie never has a ride does she?"

You turned and stared at Minho.

He smiled, holding up his keys.

In the car the only sounds there were was the sound of the window wipers and the quiet music on the radio.

"Let's go to my place, it's closer." He reasoned.

You looked at him. "Yeah, okay."

When you got to Minho's apartment he got out with the umbrella before going to your side and shielding you from the rain as you walked in. The elevator ride was quiet. Too quiet so you said, "We're going to keep researching."

"Yeah." He said, "Uh- My friends hang around here often. Don't mind them too much, they're a little um.. rowdy."

You nodded, "I don't mind."

Only when you got to the apartment you were surprised to see not one or two friends but three men and three cats.

One of the men looked up from something he was eating, "Minho, who's the girl?"

"Minho brought a girl home!?" A man with very chubby cheeks who you recognized immediately as Jisung poked his head out of a room, he froze when he saw you before laughing lightly and going back into the room.

"He did?!" A familiar voice said in shock.

You looked at Chan one of the fraternity presidents.

He looked at you, then Minho and back at you, "How did this happen?"

"RIGHT!?" Jisung called.

"We're here to work on a project!" Minho huffed, "Please.

"OHH!" The muscular man at the table looked a bit shocked for a moment. "We'll leave then, yea?"

"Yeah.." Minho rolled his eyes as Jisung and Chan came out of wherever they were and gathered their stuff.

As they were leaving the muscular man shouted, "USE PROTECTION!"

Your face got hot and you turned to the door.

"CHANGBIN!" Minho shouted.

"SORRY! Leaving now!" He called back before he finally left.

You looked at him. "Let's get to work shall we?"

He laughed slightly and motioned to the sitting area.

"Your cats are cute." You said as a dark colored striped cat came up to you.

"That's Dori." he said as you pet the cat. "Soonie." He motioned to a white and orange cat laying on the floor, "Doongie." He pointed at the last cat which was walking over to Minho.

"The names are cute." You hum as you let Dori run off.

"Someone called them old fashioned..." Minho rolled his eyes.

"Who?"

"No one important. Let's get to work."

For the most part you and Minho worked very diligently and then your phone buzzed, you gave it a glance before it buzzed again and you frowned turning it on its face to ignore it. It buzzed again and you huffed, grabbing the device.

You saw the instagram messages and rolled your eyes.

You hum and put your phone down.

"What?" Minho asks.

"Nothing." You shrug.

Parties with Hae-joo were... a lot... especially since Hae-joo was such good friends with Yeongsu.. 'For old times sake' worried you. Did Yeongsu put her up to it?

You jumped as Minho flicked your cheek. "HEY!"

"Pay attention." He rolled his eyes.

You hummed and looked back at your work.

"Is there any particular place you like?" Minho looked up from his computer.

"Not really no." You shrugged. "Maybe my bed."

He rolled his eyes. "The beach?"

"Never been." You said looking at your computer.

"HUH!?" he blinked in shock. "It's like an hour away!"

"I never have time I'm always working or sleeping. or both." You laughed lightly. "I didn't live too close to a beach when I was a kid either."

"I'll take you one day."

You stopped typing. "You serious? I don't need to go-"

"Its really pretty there. At the beach I mean.. especially at night."

You noticed the way he smiled slightly.

"Friend of mine took me and" He sat up and started typing. "It's just really nice."

"I'll consider visiting." You laughed.

That night Minho was scrolling on instagram when he got a message from Jisung.

The first thing Minho thought about was how the heck YOU of all people would actually go to a party like that.

The tour began early, the moment the high schoolers arrived you made sure everyone was on their best behavior. As you showed the students around the classrooms and lecture hall, you noticed him watching you from his seat in his accounting class.

Yeongsu was watching you as you told the high schoolers about the class before motioning for them to follow you out. You came to your history class and greeted Mrs. Jung, explaining the touring high schoolers and then you explained the class and it content and why it was a mandatory class.

"We'll continue now," You said about to leave, as you ushered the students out, Minho came down from his seat and grabbed your arm gently.

"Are you coming over later?" He asked.

You blinked a bit stunned, "No, I have to get ready for my meeti-"

He made a face, "We need to finish the project,"

"We have a few more days. It's fine." You smiled and pulled away.

"Is he your boyfriend?" One of the high schoolers asked.

Your mouth fell open, "I-"

Minho looked at you and smirked, "She's a very close friend, we're not dating."

"Oh," the student said.

You cringed as one of the girls gave Minho her number on a slip of paper. "Let's continue."

Minho looked at you and laughed lightly.

After classes you were in the student council office and you decided to visit Hyunjin in the dance studio. You opened the door and blinked a few times in confusion at someone fixing Hyunjin's stance.

"It's ugly." The person said. That voice was familiar...

"AGH! HOW!" Hyunjin fumed.

"Stand like this!" The person stood the supposed proper way.

"THATS HOW I W-" Hyunjin's mouth froze as he saw you.

"What?" Minho stared at you in shock for a moment.

"You like dancing?" You smiled slightly.

Hyunjin grinned devilishly behind Minho and tried to run away but the older man grabbed him and dragged him back.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Is that a problem prez?"

You made a face. "No. Not at all. You should teach me sometime." You walked around a bit. "I just came to say hi... I'll go. Leave you guys to fix that."

Hyunjin tried to pull away from Minho who held him tightly by the forearm. "SAVE ME!" He mouthed.

You rolled your eyes and left.

At the party, it wasn't surprising that majority of the students were acting like it was a club, you squeezed through the crowd and looked around a bit.

"Ain't no way the president herself came to a party like this."

You turned and rolled your eyes at your friend Hongjoong, "Long time no see."

"How could you ever see any of us if you're always cooped up in that student council office?" A tall dark-haired man threw an arm around Hongjoong.

"You act like I'm there 24/7 Hwa." You laughed.

"We never see you anymore." He shrugged, "You don't want to associate with the riffraff of your past huh?"

"You aren't riffraff," You sighed, grabbing a soda from a table as you continued walking, "I just decided to grow up a bit."

The loud music shook the whole house and you felt it vibrating through you as you walked. You opened the soda can and took a quick sip.

"Y/N!"

You turned to the voice and smiled at Hae-joo, "Hey."

She hugged you, "Didn't think you'd actually come..."

"I didn't either, looking for a fr-" You stopped half way through your sentence and stared at Yeongsu, who was smoking in the corner with his guys, staring at you.

Hae-Joo's eyes followed yours. "He won't bother you, I made him promi-"

"Since when has he kept a promise." You took another sip of your soda.

"Come on, everyone's waiting for you." Hae-joo dragged you to the kitchen, all your old friends were there, laughing and smiing and drinking.

San was the first to notice you. "Y/N" He put down his drink and hugged you tightly.

"Hey! Hey-" You squeaked as everyone else piled on you.

"Give the girl a break. You'll crush her." Yunho rolled his eyes and smiled, "Good to see you."

You and your friends caught up when you noticed him as he walked in with Jisung and Chan. You left your friends for a moment and started walking over to him. His dark eyes met yours through the crowd and your heart skipped a beat.

He walked over to you and laughed slightly as he looked you over, "First time I've seen you dressed in something other than business casual or pajamas."

You made a face, "I'm not always dressed business casual."

"You always look uptight." He motioned to the crop top. "It's a good look on you."

Your face got hot and he looked at someone talking to him for a moment. You left Minho there and went back to your friends, you huffed as you noticed they were no longer in the kitchen.

You picked up your soda and took a sip after you finished the can you noticed that your head felt a little foggy like you were drunk. You stumbled slightly, it was a fucking soda. Unless.. you cursed under your breath, why had you left it unattended.

You stumbled and almost fell over, someone caught you and you were about to apologize when you saw the tattoo on his wrist and pulled away.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Yeongsu reached for you and you shook your head. You needed to leave, you needed to find Minho.

You pushed past the sweaty, dancing bodies and found tipsy Hyunjin and Chan.

"Y/n?" Chan stood, completely alert suddenly, "You drank?"

You shook your head, "Where's Minho?"

"I haven't seen him, do you need to lea-"

You pulled away and ran looking around you went up the steps and looked around at the drunk students, then as you entered a room you saw them. Minho, Jisung, and several other people you didn't recognize, you're heart stopped as you took in the position Minho was in.

A girl sat on his lap, taking turns with him at a cigarette. You watched as the smoke clouded up as Minho exhaled. The girl giggled and was practically rubbing herself all over him. Your breath picked up and you felt tears clouding your vision.

Minho looked at the door and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of you. Your eyes met and you shook your head before you took off running.

Minho came out of the room looking around the party. Where had you run off to.. You weren't the type to drink. At least he didn't think you were. You looked scared.

"Y/N!" He pushed past some people in the party then he heard someone.

"Y/N JUST RAN OFF!" a guy groaned.

Minho turned slowly.

"YEONGSU!" Hyunjin...?

Minho stared at his friend who had another guy by the collar.

"What did you do?" Hyunjin said lowly.

"My friend put something in her drink nothing bad-"

Minho saw red. "WHAT!?"

Hyunjin released Yeongsu and backed up as Minho stalked towards them.

Yeongsu stared at Minho, "What? You want to fight me? I didn't think she'd run out like th-"

Minho punched him hard.

You lay in bed staring at your ceiling as your phone rang for what felt like the hundredth time, maybe it was, you weren't counting.

"Girl.." Doyeon whispered as she walked into your room with (fav flavor) ice cream. "What happened?"

"Maybe I'm stupid, Doyeon..." You muttered.

Doyeon looked at your phone as it rang again, Minho's contact flashing across the screen. "Did he-"

"Him and Yeongsu aren't that different." You rolled away from her.

"Y/n.." Doyeon hugged you, "You don't need a guy, you've got me and Jia and Yuna... Hell even your guy friends."

You stared blankly at the wall.

"Y'know what, we're going to cheer you up, right now." She dragged you into a sitting position and opened the tub of ice cream, "The student council president is the strongest most independent woman I know, and she is the last person to beat herself up over a boy."

You stared at your friend. "Y-Yeah."

"Come on." She held up two spoons, "We can watch that show you wanted to try."

You walked into the student council office the following Monday and sat in your chair. "Yuna, schedule."

"We have a general meeting today and that's it." She said.

"Uh huh."

Jia's computer dinged. "You have a student meeting today."

"Schedule it for after lunch." You said, you walked into history class and turned in your paper on the Roman empire, you felt a twist in your gut, Minho wrote this with you.

You went to your seat and pulled out your computer, as class began you took notice of how Minho wasn't late... he never came.

You pushed down the worry in your gut and dragged yourself to lunch then the student council office. On your way you saw Jisung in the hall, he looked at you for a moment before turning back to the person he spoke to. You got into your office and stared at your phone, the notifications from Minho had piled up,you scrolled through the message notifications of "I'm sorry", "Answer", and "We need to talk".

You put your phone down as the door opened and you stared at Yeongsu. He smirked as he closed the door, "Heard your little boyfriend had a bit of trouble." You noticed the black eye he had.

Trouble... what trouble could Minho be in? "He's not my boyfriend," You said. "What can I do for you, Yeongsu?"

"Come on Y/n. Let's think logically here, you like when I do that." He walked around the desk and behind your chair. "Minho is in the same boat I am, maybe he's got a little heart. Maybe he's tryna crawl out of the pit we're in. But the same way you went to that party after you said you were done with us, he's fucking around with other girls because it's in his mind. You can take the person away from their habit. But you can't take the habit away from a person, Y/n..."

You stared at your desk. "What do you know..." You muttered as you looked at your phone on the desk. A notification from Jisung came on the screen.

"Huh?" he turned your chair to face him. "Think about it Y/n, you came back, you haven't changed deep down and neither has he."

"What do you know?" You looked up at him speaking a bit louder.

"Y/n."

"I'm asking 'What do you know?' what do you know about change that I don't? For you to educate me?" You stood and glared at him. "I'm different, I'm uptight, I'm reserved, I don't trust anyone! But I trust him. I've seen him change, I know he's not perfect, he's tempted all the time, he makes mistakes! He's human. He's more human than you will ever be." You pointed a finger in Yeongsu's face and said lowly. "So don't tell me he'll never be better. Leave." You pointed to the door.

Yeongsu stared down at you. "You think he's that good for you huh.."

Your eyes narrowed.

He didn't say anything more and left the room. You stood there and shakily exhaled before grabbing your phone and looking at the messages from Jisung.

You ran as fast as you could to the front of the school and called a cab, when it arrived the guy looked at you in the rearview mirror. "Where to?"

"Beach please.." You said frantically.

"Lady the beach is like an hour from here-"

You threw a wad of twenties to the front of the car. "Is that enough?"

The guy opened his mouth then closed it before turning on the engine again and looking at you, "Buckle up."

You gave him another twenty, "Make it fast."

When you got to the parking you waved the driver off and looked around, you ran to the sand and searched. You ran a bit and stumbled looking around you moved to get your phone and called Minho. It went straight to voicemail and you screamed running further into the beach looking for him, anything, his car, his jacket, anything..

You fell and gasped as you noticed that your heels were digging into the back of your ankle. You sat down and stared at your phone, the last message from Minho was from the morning. You took off your shoes and winced. Remembering how Minho had given you those slippers and told you to wear more comfortable shoes.

Your eyes filled with tears as you called him again, it went straight to voicemail. You were about to throw your phone into the sand when you heard the soft sound of sound shifting beneath someone's feet.

"Didn't I tell you to wear comfier shoes.." Minho said softly, he kneeled in front of you, taking your feet gently in his hands.

You stared at him, tears starting to fall from you eyes, "I was rushing.."

He looked up at your face and smiled softly. "You crying prez?"

You wiped your face and punched him. "I WAS WORRIED!"

"I thought you didn't want to see me anymore, I messed up, you wer-"

You kissed him hard.

He blinked in shock for a moment as you pulled away.

"Don't scare me like that!" You punched his chest again.

"I'm sorry.." He whispered. "For everything."

You stared at him for a moment before hugging him tightly. "I hate you."

He smiled and hugged you back. "I love you, too.."

Minho picked you up on his back and carried you back to where he parked his car. He got you in and drove to a small convenience store, buying you bandages for your feet and some slippers. He sat you on a bench outside and carefully put the bandages on the blisters on your feet.

You watched him for a while. "Who was that girl..."

"Which girl?" He looked up for a moment.

"The one who was on your lap." You muttered.

He looked up at you. "Y/n," he looked apologetic. "I don't even know her..."

You smiled slightly, "So she isn't important?"

He smiled. "Were you jealous?"

"NO!" You looked away, cheeks burning.

"I like someone a lot more than a random hoe.." He put the slippers on your feet.

You spun to look at him. "Who?"

He rolled his eyes and stood, bending to be eye level with you. "You, Madam President." He kissed your forehead gently.

You stared at him.

"It's late, let's go back, hm?" he helped you to your feet and led you back to the car.

You finally checked your phone after it buzzed for what felt like the millionth time.

"Do you want to go back?" Minho looked at you, before looking back at the road, "We have class tomorrow."

"I already turned in the paper." You said, putting your phone down. "We can go back tomorrow.."

Minho looked at your hands on the console, "Yeah..." He reached over and took your hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze.

You walked into the student council office to see Jia and Yuna talking to Yeongsu.

He noticed your presence first and quickly got up. "Y/N!" He walked over to you, reaching for you.

You took a step back. "Explain." You looked at the girls.

"We thought he'd know where you were." Jia said.

"Where were y-" Yuna started.

"With me." Minho walked in and smiled at Yeongsu.

Yuna and Jia stared at you.

Yeongsu opened his mouth to say something but stopped as Minho put an arm around you.

"You are?" He stared at Yeongsu.

Yeongsu closed his mouth and walked out.

Seungmin looked at Yeongsu walking out as he walked in, took in the sight in front of him and rounded on his heel. "Good luck with that."

"I KNEW IT!" Yuna pointed at you two.

You rolled your eyes.

"Coffee?" Minho whispered in your ear, "You don't want to be late."

"Why so uptight?" You raised a brow at him.

He rolled his eyes and smiled as he dragged you out.

© 2024 xxkissesforchanniexx. DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK

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[miueo]

lee know edition︐ twt links — pub. 062624

warnings : porn porn porn porn !!!!

pairings : minho ♡ you !

note : i’m currently in hong kong visiting family ! i’m making this as i am getting my nails done zz..

you send your bf, minho a lovely message !

minho loves it when you take it from the back <33 !

you’re his cute little kitten >_<..

only good pets worship their owners !

yummy creampies from minnie !

stop teasing!!!!

minho training your small & tight hole ♥︎

the feeling when it hits your tummy ^_^..

bark bark..

[desi2go]

Sleep deprived

pairing: Minho x reader

warnings: fluff

Lee Minho always gave his best. From the moment he debuted as an idol, his perfectionism grew and grew. He wanted to impress Stay and make them proud.

When you met him, he was already an idol and you couldn't believe that he, the Lee Know of Stray Kids, asked you out. A normal person with a pretty normal job. But he did and you fell for him bad. He was the person you can lean on at the end of the day.

In the four-year relationship, you had ups and downs and even in the best relationship are fights about to happen. But in the end you can always find solutions.

You had met his group members after you dated for half a year and you immediately clicked with Han. He was like the male version of you and you became friends pretty fast. Minho didn't mind, he was happy. Because of that, Han spend much time with both of you.

You noticed that when the next comeback came closer and closer, Minho spent nearly all his time in the company, returning home late and barely sleeping. At first he tried to hide his tiredness but you knew him well and the dark circles under his eyes told otherwise. He often slept at the dorms so that he wouldn't wake you up when he got home even though you told him you didn't mind.

You had taken the afternoon off to clean the apartment and maybe visit your boyfriend with some food. When Han called, you didn't think that maybe something could be with Minho. Han and you called each other often.

"Hey Ji, what's up?" You asked, meanwhile cleaning the countertop of the kitchen.

"Can you come? Or are you at work?"

"No I'm home. What's wrong?" You cleared the wet towels away, searching for your car keys.

"No need to worry, Minho is sleeping right now. But we think he should go home." he told you and you immediately sped to the company building, running to the practise room.

You opened the door and entered the room. Minho sat against the big mirror, his head leaning against it. His eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. His members stood around him. Han jogged over to you, giving you a warm and sweaty hug.

"Why is he sleeping on the ground?"

"We did a short two minutes break and he must have been so tired that he immediately fell asleep." Felix stated.

"I'll take him home. He shouldn't work himself to death" you answered, crossing the room to kneel next to your boyfriend. You heard him quietly snoring.

Softly, you brushed his brown hair out of his face, rubbing his neck with the other. He stirred, eyes squeezing together as he leaned into your touch. He was so adorable when he was sleeping or waking up. You cupped his cheek, brushing over it.

"Wakey Wakey, sleepyhead" you whispered. He stirred again, his eyes half up and blinking lazy. Slowly, he came back to his senses, yawning while rubbing his eyes.

"What are you doing here, y/n?" He asked you with a small smile on his face.

"Taking you home with me so that you can sleep properly" He took your hand that still cupped his cheek in his and shaked his head.

"I need to finish practice"

"No, you're finished. Go home, Minho. Don't risk injuring yourself" Chan commented. Your boyfriend sighed. He knew that there is no point in arguing with his leader and his girlfriend. He stood up, rubbing his eyes and stretching. He definitely didn't choose the right place to fall asleep even if it was only a short amount of time.

You grabbed his hand again and led him out of the room, taking his sweater with you that he had taken off due to practising. Gently, you placed it around his shoulders so that he wouldn't get so cold during the short trip to your car. Like a toddler, he waddled after you, still sleep driven.

The shirt drive to your apartment was filled with a comfortable silence. Minho was curled up on the passenger seat, dozing off. The radio was playing quietly the entire time.

You parked the car and climbed out of your seat, walking around it to wake your boyfriend.

"Baby, come. We are home" you brushed through his fluffy hair. It was a gesture that was common to you both. Not only you would fiddle with his hair but he also with yours. Especially in the late evenings when you had trouble with sleeping due to the stress at work, he'll just move his warm fingers through it and it makes magic.

Your sleepy boyfriend waddled into your apartment, holding your hand ever so tightly.

"Come on, baby. You're still sweaty. Let me run a bath for you" He nodded and walked into the kitchen to grab a bite and something to drink.

Fast, you filled the tub with warm water, mixed with some bath oil and a bath bomb. Then, you brought new clothes to the bathroom. The door opened and Minho leaned against your back, circling his arms around you. He gave you a little peck against your neck and cuddled with you for some minutes.

"Thank you. Wanna come with me?" he mumbled. You nodded and both of you discarded your clothes and jumped into the warm water. "I'll wash your hair." you proposed and gently wetted his hair. You massaged his head while spreading the shampoo.

After his hair was clean, he layed his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. Slowly, you rubbed his back up and down, loving to feel his muscles relax and the soft skin.

After maybe hours of cuddling, the water was getting so cold that both of you decided to continue in the bed.

You found it funny how different his appearance could be. Most days, he loves sarcasm and humour and then there are days like this. Then, he is cuddly and wouldn't let you go anywhere without him. He really reminded you of a cat. He got claws knows how to use them but he is also touch starved. You loved him, your little ambitious cat.

[hanniebaeee]

Always You

Best friend's brother Lee Know x fem!reader

Warning: Just a bit of kissing.

Summary: You're in trouble and the first person you call is your best friend's brother, Minho.

Genre: fluff

Minho sat scrolling absent-mindedly through his phone as a movie played on the TV in the background. He was lonely and everyone he knew seemed to be busy. His best friends are out with their partners. His sister was on a date. He had no idea where you were. He wondered what you were up to. It's been a few weeks since you guys spoke and he missed you.

Placing the phone on his lap, he looked back at the tv and sighed. This is so boring.

He glanced down at his phone as it vibrated on his lap. His heart skipped a beat as your name flashed on the screen. He was quick to grab it, pressing it to his ear.

'Y/N?'

Your breathing wasn't right. You were stuttering and crying and he was on his feet, already moving out of the living room.

'Minho? Minho, oh my god!' You couldn't form words as your sobs took over.

'Y/N, where are you? Are you hurt?' Minho's questions were urgent as he was already out of his apartment, speed walking to his car.

'Minho, I don't know where I am. I'm so scared, can you please come and get me? Please?' You cry and his heart sank.

'Jagi, send me your location and sit tight, yeah? I'm on my way.' Minho said, waiting and looking at your location.

'Are you hurt? What happened?!' He asked, driving - already skipping a red light.

'I fell and I think I twisted my ankle... I'm not even dressed right, Minho. I'm, I'm -'

'It's ok. I'm on my way.' Minho said, trying to console you.

His heart was racing as he sped through to find you. You were his younger sister's best friend. Your family had moved to Korea when you were in middle school and you all grew up together. Being a foreigner had been hard and you did face some level of bullying and racism at school, but Minho and his sister, Hana had been your pillars of support. Minho was fiercely protective over you both and it never channged even as you got older.

You and Hana were still best of friends. Minho had moved out of his family home after college, but he did stay in the same city. You and Hana too worked nearby, so you all met every now and then. It's been a while now, and he couldn't help but feel a flood of emotions course through his body as he thought of you.

Minho has had a soft spot for you for years. Hana teased him endlessly for this. And he was sure that was a little in love with you. He tried his best to ignore these feelings as he didn't want to complicate your relationship. You were one of the nicest persons he knew - you were kind, you were so caring and loyal and above everything, you were always there.

Unknown to Hana, he called you whenever he felt like things were getting out of hand. On his most stressful days, he would ask you to come over, you would share a drink and hold his hand until his calmed down. Nothing more, nothing less. You gave him support. You gave him your time and your presence, no matter when he wanted it. And you never asked for more.

Minho looked at the map and saw that he was close. His eyes fell on your shivering form at the side of a secluded road. Stopping the car, he was out in an instant, making his way over to you.

'Y/N!'

Your head snapped up and you were crying harder at the sight of him. He was on his knees in front of you, hugging you tightly. Pulling back, he checked you for any injuries and then he saw you swollen ankle. You wore a navy blue sequined dress that fell to your mid thigh and heels - you never liked heels. You were way too clumsy on them. You shivered and Minho quickly draped his jacket over your exposed shoulders before helping you stand. You wince in pain and said, 'I don't think I can walk, Minho. I'm so sorry, I can't-'

You weren't even done talking, when he picked you up bridal style, making you gasp. After helping you into the passenger seat safely, Minho was driving again.

'What happened?' He asked.

'I had a fight with Lisa. She dragged me to a party and tried to set me up with her friend. She said some really mean things when I refused, she kinda forced me and...I said I wanted to go home, she agreed to drive, but then, ditched me in the middle of the road. We fought again and she kinda pushed me. These stupid heels-'

'What kind of friends do you keep Y/N?!' Minho scolded, glaring at you. 'Why wasn't Hana aware of this?'

'Hana had plans, I didn't want to bother her' You said sadly.

'Its just a date Y/N. You always come first.' Minho said.

'Im sorry Minho. My dad is out of town and if my parents ever knew, they would never let me out of the house again. You know them... Yours was the only face that came to my mind when -' You pull at your dress self-consciously, trying to cover your thighs as much as possible.

You fall silent and Minho looks at you for a second before his eyes are back on the road. His heart fluttered at the thought. He was the only one you thought of. He placed a hand on your knee, patting gently.

'I'm sorry i got mad. I was so worried when you called crying. I don't even know how I got here.' Minho said with a sigh. 'How does the ankle feel?'

'It's ok, Lino.' You said, and smile as you see a small smile on his face. 'My ankle hurts though.'

He takes you straight to the emergency room, where you get your ankle looked at and bandaged. He carried you to the car even though you told him a hundred times that you can just take a wheelchair. Then he takes you to his apartment, and orders some food.

You sit on his sofa, watching him plate up the food and hand your plate to you. You eat in silence, his eyes not leaving you.

'What?' You ask, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

'Why was Lisa trying to set you up with some random guy?' Minho asked, eyebrows furrowed.

'She's like that. She thinks I don't date anyone 'coz I can't get a date on my own.' You said, chewing on your food. 'She can't wrap her head around the fact that maybe I don't want to, you know.'

'Why don't you want to?' Minho asked, keeping his plate on the coffee table and turning to face you.

'I just-' You contemplate whether it's safe to say the truth or not. 'Lino, you know why.'

'I do?' Minho asked, and you know he does. He just didn't want to acknowledge anything.

'Don't you?' You ask, tilting your head in question. 'After all this time?'

'I need to hear you say it.' Minho said, moving closer.

'Why won't you say it?' You ask, your heart hurting at his avoidance. 'Don't I come running anytime you need me? I'm always here aren't I? You've always known. Since high school, Lino.'

'Y/N-'

'Don't tell me that you don't think about that camping trip. If you pretend that it didn't happen, it won't go away.' You say, tears blurring your vision.

You were in your first year of college and you had gone on a camping trip with Hana and Minho. The siblings went on to fight throughout the day and by nighttime, Hana refused to even sleep in the same tent. But they literally had no other option, so you offered to sleep in the middle to which they reluctantly agreed. Late into night, you heard sniffling and turned to face Minho, who was in tears.

'Lino, what happened?' You whispered, moving closer to him.

'Hana thinks I'm not a good brother. My father thinks I'm not a good son. Im just a fucking failure-'

'Yah, what are you even talking about?!' You asked, pulling your hand out from under your blanket to wipe at his tears. 'Hana just wanted to win the fight. You know that.'

'They keep doing this. They keep telling me I'm not good enough!'

'Lino, you're good enough. More than good actually. People say mean things just to ruffle you when you're right. I'm sure they don't even mean it. Don't you trust me?' You asked, cupping his cheek with your hand. 'You're the best.'

Minho wiped the tears off his face and opened his arms.

'Can we cuddle?' He asked. 'Please?'

You stare at him, surprised. You've never done this before. But you nod and settle underneath his blanket, your back presses to his chest. He makes a cocoon with the blanket around you, his arms tight around you. Sleep comes almost immediately in his warm embrace. But late into the night, you turn around in your sleep, and open your eyes as your nose touched his.

He opens his eyes too, both your faces so close - noses touching, lips so so close. His eyes drop to your lips and his arms around you tighten, pulling you as close as humanly possible. You let it happen - his lips are so soft and warm and gentle on yours.

'It's so fucking hot!' Hana's loud voice had you both jumping apart. Minho turned to the other side, breathing heavily and you remained silent as Hana sat up and tossed her jumper to the side. The next morning, the siblings apologized and made up. You and Minho never spoke of this incident after that day. But you both knew that deep down, you were both in love.

'I was afraid' Minho said, slowly. 'I didn't even know if you wanted to kiss me back. I felt like I had just done it and you didn't even have a chance to push me away. And then Hana woke up and-'

'You're an idiot if you thought I didn't want that.' You said, shaking your head. 'If I felt violated that day, I won't be here every time you wanted my company, Minho.'

Minho nodded and sighed.

'I don't want to ruin anything, Y/N. Hana loves you a lot and I can't-'

'Hana knows that I like you, you pabo.' You said and he stared at you like you had sprouted horns.

'She doesn't mind, does she?.' Minho said.

'Oh no, she loves the idea of us together.' You said, wanting to laugh at how clueless he could be sometimes.

'Why do you both always torture me like this?' Minho asked, running a hand over his face.

'Because you think you're too rough and tough, but you're just a cute little idiot.'

'Right. Good reason to torture someone.'

You shrug.

'So, what happens now?' You ask.

Minho looked at you, and his mind and heart were both very clear about one thing - he wasn't going to let you slip out of his hands again. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

'I'm gonna love you. We have wasted a lot of time, baby. I'm not gonna sit here and waste anymore.'

Your eyes shine with happy tears as he hugs you and kisses you.

'I love you, Lino.' You mumbled against his neck. 'Never letting you go.'

'I love you more, jagi' he said, placing little kisses on the top of your head. He carries you to his bedroom and helps you get changed into some of Hana's pyjamas. You couldn't help but smile as he climbed into bed and settled down beside you. He kissed you more until you were both too tired and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Hana: Why didn't you call me?!

Hana: wtf Y/N!

Hana: where the hell are you?!

Y/N: yah, calm down

Y/N: I'm ok, at Lino's now

Hana: what are you doing there this early in the morning?

Hana: Y/N L/N

Y/N: Hana please

Hana: Did you guys talk?? Did you guys...?

Hana: Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes

Y/N: HANA.

Hana: where is that pabo

Y/N: sleeping

Hana: together, I hope

Hana: ew ew ew

Y/N: shut up

Y/N: are you coming over?

Hana: Sure. Be decent please.

Hana: Don't be gross in front of me.

Y/N: We'll be gross. Don't come - your brother.

Y/N: go away

Hana: oh my god, ew

Hana: disgusting

Hana: 🤢🤮

Y/N: be here for breakfast

Hana: You're mine first. Don't forget.

Y/N: of course

Y/N: love you❤

Hana: love you more ❤

a/n : I haven't done this in a long time and I'm soo happy to be writing again! I have like 9000 things in my drafts rn 😭 Feedback is much appreciated❤