#lee minho friends to lovers

[mxnsxngie]

I Only Want To Dance With You (L.M)

Warnings: none, all fluff! Unless you count his joke about using the reader's arm to hit the other boys...

Word Count: 2183

Playlist: Slow Dancing With Minho (songs you two may dance to in the scene)

Let Me Know What You Think!

“You want me to what?” You ask your best friend from across the table of the cafe you met him at, surprised at the favor he’s asking of you.

“Please, it’s just for a couple of hours” he asks, trying to look nonchalant about it, but you know he’s begging you at this point.

“Why do you want me to go to this company dinner so bad?” You ask, genuinely confused. Minho had called you to meet for coffee before laying on you that JYP Entertainment was holding a special dinner in honor of their artists. Really it was more like a party honestly, complete with food, music, drinks, and dancing.

“Because I don’t want to go alone” he says with a slight whine to his tone.

“… Min, you’re literally going with the other 7 members, that’s hardly considered going alone” you laugh, shaking your head.

“That’s not the same though, I can’t get through one of these without you, they’ll drive me nuts with their antics” he sighs, gently taking your hand from across the table. “Please don’t make me deal with them alone?” He asks again, giving his best puppy eyes.

“That’s rich coming from you” you laugh, shaking your head, knowing full well the antics HE gets up to himself. “But yes, I guess I’ll go with you” you sigh, teasingly rolling your eyes at him.

“Thank you so much! You’re the absolute best! Do you have something nice to wear? We’re supposed to dress up.” He asks as he’s finally relaxed some now that you’ve agreed to go.

“I might have something, but I may go shopping still just in case. And don’t worry, I won’t make you come with me. I know how much you hate shopping” you tease.

“You truly are the best. You get me” he says with a relieved sigh, slumping back in the chair dramatically.

“Yeah yeah, I love you too dork” you jokingly tell him. You fail to notice the blush on his cheeks, too distracted by how his hair moves forward as he tilts his head down a second. The longer hair really did look good on him.

“I’m gonna go ahead and get shopping since this is tomorrow night, I’ll text you later Min!” You say as you grab your coffee and go over to hug hun before leaving.

He watches you leave, hoping the boys were right that you returned his feelings and that this would go well.

You’re just finishing getting your shoes on as you hear a knock on your door. You take one last look in the mirror admiring the black dress you managed to find, the plunge up top and the slit over the leg really made you feel sexy.

Hopefully it wasn’t too much for Minho. You couldn’t help that you’d developed feelings for him and you were hoping that this opportunity to dress up for him would get him to make a move. Your friendship was always filled with a playful give and take when it came to bantering or trading each other, and you were hoping you could bait him into a confession.

You grab your clutch and head to the door as you head another knock.

“I’m coming I’m coming” you yell as you approach the door. You open it to find Minho on the other side, looking breathtakingly gorgeous in his black suit.

“Wow Min you look incredible” you say, a slight blush coming to your cheeks.

“Are you saying I don’t always look good? I take offense to that” he says as he places a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “In all seriousness though, you look absolutely stunning, I’m in awe” he says, taking your hand to lead you to the car.

“Aww Min, thank you. I didn’t know you were capable of compliments!” You joke as you bump your hip into his whole two walk to the car.

“I can be a gentleman if I feel properly motivated to be” he says with a smirk, looking down at you.

“Must take a lot of motivation, because I’ve never seen you be one before” you joke, knowing full well he’s genuinely a gentleman.

“Sometimes it just takes the right person” he smirks as he opens the door for you to get in. You manage to hide your blush as you duck into the car, caught off guard by his comment. Maybe tonight would be the night.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” He says, the smirk still in place as you realize you hadn’t answered his previous comment to you.

“Oh never, because that would mean you had some kind of effect on me” you smirk back, settling in for the ride.

“Oh, and how terrible that would be” he chuckles at you.

“The worst thing imaginable” you smile, letting him know you’re joking before resting your head on his shoulder, taking in the spicy vanilla scent of his cologne. The smell of home.

The rest of the car ride goes fairly quickly, both of you sitting close in comfortable silence when the car pulls up at the event. He helps you out and literally drags you over to where the other boys are waiting, taking off in his tiny shuffle run, pulling you with him by the hand.

“Min, min slow down!” You giggle, following after him.

“Oh you can keep up!” He laughs back at you. What you don’t notice while you’re both laughing as you approach the boys is how they all watch you both with a fond smile. Well, almost all. Hyunjin makes a mock face of disgust, but it’s not like he means it. That’s just Hyunjin.

“About time you two showed up!” Jisung jokes as you two make it over.

“Ah take it easy on them, they still made it on time! Let’s go have some fun!” Chan says, leading all of you in. As you all start walking, you realize Minho hasn’t dropped your hand yet, and can’t help they slight blush on your face. Thankfully he’s too busy talking to Jisung to notice. But Seungmin does.

“Careful, someone might catch on to your little crush” Seungmin leans down and whispers in your ear. You look up at playfully swat at him, giving him a scolding look, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face. You shake your head and ignore his joking as you all get to your table.

Unsurprisingly, your seat ends up being by Minho, and he playfully yanks you down into your seat by your entwined hands before letting go, causing you to let out a slight yelp.

“Jeez Min, trying to yank my arm off?” You laugh, looking over at him.

“Maybe, would make a great weapon to hit these guys with” he jokes with a smirk.

“Yeah we’ll I quite like my arm where it is, thanks” you laugh before looking around. There’s a little more people than you expected, but it’s not too bad, and most of the groups are keeping to themselves. Then you notice the bar in the corner.

“You want a drink Min?” You ask.

“Yeah, that sounds great actually” he smiles.

“Alright, I’m on it” you smile as you stand and walk over to the bar, already knowing what he’ll want.

Once you’re out of earshot, the boys start hounding him.

“Please tell me you’re making your move tonight?!” Jisung whines, looking at his best friend.

“Yes, please! I can’t take the longing looks you two give each other anymore” Hyunjin says with an exasperated look on his face.

“I might, I’m not sure.”

“Oh my gosh hyung, if this is about you not being sure if she likes you, she definitely does. She’s told me. Just go for it” Seungmin says, jokingly rolling his eyes.

“She has?” Minho asks, looking over in your direction before looking back. “I’m just not sure how I guess” he says, the tips of his ears turning red slightly.

“Just ask her to dance! It’s your comfort zone, and lends a little bit of privacy!” Felix says as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. And it is, to be fair.

“That’s… not a bad idea actually. Thanks Felix” he says as he hears you coming back.

“Alright, who was teasing my Minho?” You ask teasingly, eyeing all the boys.

“No clue what you mean” Changbin says with an innocent smile.

“Really? Because his ears are red and that only happens when he’s flustered. Soooo” you say, eyeing them all again. You miss the “I told you so” look Seungmin give Minho at that.

“Hey, I had no part in this” I.N says, raising his hands in surrender. You all laugh at that and you briefly hear Seungmin call him a traitor as your meals are brought out.

You all laugh and talk as you eat and as you finish, you feel Minho’s pinky brushing yours from beside you. You look over at him and smile, feeling like you’re in your own world for a minute as you look in his eyes. You hear a slow song start to play while you’re looking at each other.

“Do you want to dance?” He asks you in a whisper as he takes your hand.

“Here? There’s a lot of people, and I don’t know how to dance” you whisper nervously.

“It’s okay, I’ll lead, and it’ll be just us. Please?” He whispers back, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“Okay” you whisper back, smiling. He stands up, pulling you up with him by your hands before leading you to the dance floor.

Once he finds a spot for you two on the dance floor, he turns towards you and snakes his right arm around your waist on your left, pulling you closer. He keeps your right hand entwined with his as he pulls you closer. You instinctually place your left hand on his right shoulder to study yourself as he pulls you close.

“Like this?” You whisper, looking up at him.

“Yeah, just like that. Now follow me” he says quietly as he starts swaying side to side with you. You can easily keep up with this, and it feels nice being so close to him like this.

“See, you’re doing just fine” he whispers, smiling down at you.

“Well I have a good teacher” you smile, blushing slightly as you compliment him. He doesn’t miss it this time and it gives him the confidence he needs.

“There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about” he says quietly as he makes eye contact with you as he continues to guide the two of you.

“Oh? What is it?” You ask, feeling a little nervous.

“I’ve been a little nervous to bring this up, but um. I’ve fallen for you. I’m not sure exactly when, all I know is it was slow, but hit me all at once. And I hope you feel the same. Will you be my girlfriend?” He whispers to you, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Oh Min” you sigh, looking at him with all the love in the world. “Of course I will, I love you too” you smile as you whisper to him.

“You do?” He smiles at you,icing his hand from your waist to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I definitely do” you say, smiling even wider as you lean into his touch.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks quietly.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t” you chuckle.

He moves his hand to cup your cheek as you slowly stop swaying, leaning in and placing his soft, pillowy lips against yours, kissing you deeper than expected. He may not be one to always vocalize how he feels, but you can tell through this kiss just how much he loves you. You move your hand to cup his face too as you deepen the kiss for a moment.

And then you hear the loud hooting and cheering from the boys to your left.

“YES!! Finally!” Jisung yells.

“About time hyung” you hear Seungmin shout.

“Get a room you two!” you surprisingly hear I.N holler.

You chuckle as you pull back, nearly forgetting where you are. You tuck your face into his neck, embarrassed at his members teasing.

“You know, I think we’ll do just that!” Minho yells back. You pull back, looking at him in surprise and see his signature smirk on his face before you feel him take your hand and take off, dragging you out of the room with him towards the exit of the building.

“Where are we going?!” You ask, laughing as you try to keep up.

“To get a room” he says as he opens the car door for you. “We have quite a bit to catch up on, and for that, I don’t want them interrupting” he says with a dark smirk as he pulls you into a brief but intense kiss before smacking your ass as he pulls back and ushers you into the car.

Getting a room didn’t sound too and at all.

Tag List: @yxngbxkkie @channiechxn @alyszaen @l3visbby @icedwaterjuice @puppyluvved @quokkashaped @sunshinecoded @rabbitcharmed @foxwitted

As always if you want to be tagged or request a moodboard or story, let me know! Feel free to come talk! 🥰

[onekeii]

Can you help me out?

Day 2: Trapped together in a snowstorm | "I thought you knew where you were going?!" Stray Kids: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem!Reader Warnings/Genre: friends to lovers, light angst, bad humour, smut, oral (m!receiving), uni au i guess? Summary: Minho's always there for you when you need a hand. Word Count: 2,628 AN: can’t believe i’ve never written lee know fanfic before lol. also i write in british english but i can’t stand the look of the word “mum” so that is intentionally american.

Read on AO3

“You want me to drive you four hours to your Mom’s house?” Minho groans, his voice muffled through the phone line. “Yep,” you say confidently. If you pretended nothing was wrong with the idea, maybe there wouldn’t be?

“In this weather?” He says. You force yourself to look up. Snow blanketed every available surface - the train station roof, the tops of cars, the bins. The pavement and road before you were clear but slick with muddy snow and grit salt. The cement absorbed each meagre snowflake that fell atop it. You shake a few from your eyelashes and hum, “Mhm.”

He can't mask his sigh, “On Christmas Eve?” 

“I was screwed over by the trains, how was I supposed to know they’d cancel them all just because of some snow? Minho, please! Can you help me out?” You were desperate now. You’d fall to your knees in front of him, in the snow, if he was there in person.

Shuffling around, keys jingling, the chk of a door handle, “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Thank you so much!” You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. It turned to steam and lifted itself into the air gracefully, more graceful than your little celebratory jig. Minho hangs up without a word, I should buy him some snacks, at least, you think.

As promised, Minho pulls into the train station within fifteen minutes and you hear the boot unlock with a click. He motions to the back of the car with a lazy hand, making no move to get out the car himself. You grumble to yourself as you dump your heavy suitcase in the back and slam the door a little harder than you should, but when you climb into the passenger seat and greet him, it's with your biggest, toothy smile.

You met him on your first day at university, and the two of you were inseparable ever since. Both of you took the same electives every year, rocked up to every party together, and hung out every day. You’ve called on his help more than you’d care to admit, sometimes just to feel his hand guide yours, or to watch his shirt ride up when he searches the top shelf for you. But he always came. This was your worst grievance by far, though.

“Coffee,” you announce, putting two cups into the holder. “Snacks,” you dangle the bag of crisps and cookies in front of his face before tossing it to the back seat. 

“Not only are you using me as your personal chauffeur, but you want to ruin my skin, too?” he tuts. 

“Just get to the motorway, I’ll guide you from there,” you pull out your phone and open Maps, but Minho has pulled out, the gritty roads adding a tasteful crunch to the low rumble of the car.

Hour one is spent fighting over the music, complaining about your teachers, and complaining even more about your classmates. Hour two, you feel, is socially acceptable for you to reach into the seat behind you and open up the snacks. “This dude texted me just this morning-” you're cut off by Minho.

“Your flatmate’s ex?” He asks. Far into the infinitely straight motorway, he holds the wheel with just one hand, slouched into his chair a little. He does everything so effortlessly, you can't help but linger on it for a minute. With his eyes fixed on the road, all Minho has to do to be fed is hold out his free hand. Last time you pressed a singular Dorito into it, this time it's a whole chocolate chip cookie. He frowns at your choice, but obliges himself anyway.

Nodding at his question, you leave your directions app to read the text verbatim, “He texted me, ‘I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I broke up with her because I like you more.’” You giggle to yourself as you read - you and your housemate enjoyed poking fun at him together this morning, but you look up to see Minho was not laughing at all. Both hands gripped the wheel tightly, knuckles turning slightly white.

What’s wrong? You wanted to ask, but you just still your laughter and glance out the window. Something turned in your gut, maybe you knew why, but asking him so directly… that risked making it real. “Turn coming up,” Minho’s voice slashes through your thoughts, you scramble to change back to your app. 

Mobile Data is Turned Off Turn on mobile data or use Wi-Fi to access data.

No matter, “It’s the second lane,” you say, certain in your memory. I’ll get my signal back in a moment. 

Hour three: you had guessed two more turnings, but you recognised neither. Your hometown was, apparently, still a little further, so you were looking out for the town before it on the signs that flashed past, to no avail. Did you remember wrong earlier? You look down at your phone but, still, no signal. 

The car was silent from your conversation earlier, but if Minho was still brooding, you were too panicked to notice. Another sign wooshes past, this one informing you of a petrol station a few miles away.

“Can we stop there?” You point it out to Minho.

He nods, “You... you okay?”

Elbow leaning against the car window sill, head in your hands, you shake your head. It was no use lying to him. Only when the car rolled to a stop did you show your face to him. Your vision was blurred with tears that were yet to fall, but you could see him jolt back a little, as if the sight scared him.

“Why are you crying?” He undid his seatbelt and reached forward, using his thumb to wipe one eye clear. A tender move he only reserved for you in dire moments. You run your sleeve across the other eye and mumble, “I think you know why.”

Minho purses his lips together, searching your eyes for a clue, “I really don’t, to be honest.”

“It begins with an ‘L’?” The frustration was a knot in your stomach, balling up tighter and tighter. How was he not getting it? “Like the ‘L’ word?” A poor choice of words on your part, but you were out with it now.

“...Lesbians?” he sits up straight, his eyebrows knitted together. God, you thought, is he trying to be funny, or is he just clueless? 

“Lost. Minho,” you say with snark, your eyes turn away from him for a moment in disbelief, “We’re lost!”

Now he seemed to get it, “I thought you knew where you were going?!” his voice peaks. A little too loud. 

The tears are seeping into your eyes once more. You want to say something - an excuse, an apology - but nothing comes out your stupid mouth. Instead, you watch yourself open the car door, practically rolling out of your seat before throwing the door back against the car. Then you’re walking towards the little petrol shop lighting up the dark sky. Since when had the sun set? What time even was it? You dreaded the answer.

Minho catches up to you in an instant, planting himself in front of you. The light from behind illuminated the outline of him; he was glowing. Glowing, like an angel who came to save you. He always came to save you, and yet you never did him any favours. Avoiding his eyes, you take one step to the side and try to walk around him. He blocks you again, this time with a hand on your shoulder.

“Can you just slow down and talk to me for a second?” Minho asks. “You always storm off when you’re upset and do something stupid.”

“I’m trying to buy a map,” you spit.

He sighs, then he’s winding his arms around your shoulders and pulling you in. You stumble forward, head against his chest and dizzy from his cologne. It’s far from the first time the two of you have hugged; goodbye hugs and ‘friendly’ movie cuddles and hugs when you’re feeling down. But it was strange this time. Minho committed himself to driving four - no, eight - hours through snow for you, you had just extended that time by getting lost, and now he was the one comforting you. You finally wrap your arms around his back.

“Why’d you bother driving out for me?” You say into his shoulder.

“Because you asked.” He pulls away, one corner of his mouth was pulled upwards into a smile. Then he turns on his heel, “Go sit in the car, I’ll get the map.” 

Thanks to that conveniently placed station, and Minho’s suspiciously fast driving, you were waylaid for only an hour. He did slow down, eventually, when you were back on track, for the increased snow covering the windshield and sticking to the road started to scare you a little.

“I hope it clears before you have to drive home,” you chew at your lip, but the snow showed no sign of letting up. When he pulls into your Mom’s driveway, the sky was pitch black. You wouldn’t have noticed it was there save for the snowflakes that fell from it in torrents now. Minho was adamant not to leave his heated car, but you drag him through the front door anyway. “At least stay for a coffee,” you say.

“Goodness,” a familiar voice rings from the kitchen, and your mother soon totters over to the front door, “I was about to ring you my dear- Oh, who’s this?”

“Mom, Minho. Minho, my Mom,” you sputter, realising how woefully unprepared you were for this interaction.

“Hi, Miss,” Minho says awkwardly, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You didn’t mention a boyfriend to me, dear, or did it slip my mind?” she pauses, “No, I would surely remember such a thing-”

Both of you cut her off in unison, “Oh, he’s not-” “Uh, I’m not-” You glare at him and he shrinks back into himself. “My train got cancelled so he drove me here,” you explain, “he was about to leave.”

“If he drove you all this way, then he must stay!” your mother beckons the two of you further into the room with wild hand gestures, “I won’t let him drive home so late, and in this weather too!”

“It’s alright, uh, Miss, I don’t mind,” Minho stumbles. What was he supposed to say? Your mother wasn’t listening. “I’ve plenty of food - too much! And her bed is big enough for the two of you–”

You didn’t hear anything else she had to say after that for she was running back into the kitchen, chatting to no one in particular. Minho turned to you, wide-eyed and lips twisted in an exasperated smile. Snow was still melting into his hair from your brief adventure outside. You reach up and pick one from his hair, watching it sink into your skin, “Sorry, looks like you’re staying here,” you say, the corners of your mouth heaving a smile onto your face.

When your mother finished feeding the both of you and talked Minho to exhaustion, she ushered you upstairs to get some sleep. You looked at the double bed in your room, still in the same place as it was when you first moved to uni. It was like nothing changed, except it had; Minho was in the room with you now. Clambering under the covers, you refuse to look back at him. The bed shifts and bounces a little when he slides under the sheets next to you.

You shared a bed with him many times before, for cheap hotel rooms and unplanned sleepovers, of course it didn’t matter this time. But it did. He’s next to you in your childhood bed, he’s met your mother, and it’s Christmas. You huff and submerge yourself further under the covers, making a point to face away from him. Minho turns off the lamp, rustles around behind you for a moment, then silence falls around you. Silence weaves its way between his steady breaths and your whirling thoughts. 

Hours felt like minutes, staring at nothing behind your closed eyelids. You sigh and roll over, hoping Minho had the sense to sleep the opposite way too. He did not. When your head hits the pillow again and you open your eyes out of curiosity, he was staring back at you.

It’s just dark, you think to yourself and blink away the static. But warm streetlights bleed into your room through cracks in your blinds, and you knew you weren’t dreaming. Why is he so weird? Yet you stare back.

“What?” He finally whispers.

Yes, what? You’re drawing blanks, then you can think of only one thing. You absolutely cannot say that, but your mouth is moving anyway, “I really wanna kiss you.”

“Okay,” he blinks. A few rogue strands of hair, freshly washed of snow, fall delicately across his face. 

You’re stunned. “...Okay?” 

“So?” His lips are parted, inviting you in, deliciously open so that all you need to do to taste him is attack. But you can’t.

This is far from your first rodeo. You’ve always been able to hit on other guys, to pull them closer by their collars, to drag them through your apartment door, to wrap your legs around their waists before you reach the bed. Minho is not other guys. What if you mess it up? Yet another sigh, so far reaching it blows his stray hairs back out of his face, “So, can you help me out?”

Yes. His answer, just like every other time, is yes. But he doesn’t say it; he snakes his arm around your nape, tugs you closer, and that’s all it takes. Your lips are on his, your body is static, your mind is lost from you. You shut your eyes and allow yourself to melt into him. But then your leg is hooked around his waist. His hands travel from your clothed thighs to rest on your ass. Rolling your hips down onto him, hard, he groans into your lips. The vibrations travelling through you only spur you to move faster.

Shirts, pants, underwear, they’re all on the floor in an instant. Five minutes ago, you did not have the faintest idea you’d end up in this position. You're knelt between his legs. Minho’s hard and looking up at you expectantly. His eyes are mocking you, challenging you. So you take him on. Lips closing around his member, you cast your eyes up as you take in as much of him as you can. He’s already tensed his eyelids shut in pleasure. A devious swish of your tongue, another and another, and his head is lolling backwards. 

Minho tangles his fingers through your hair, pushing you down further onto his cock. Obliging, you begin to bob your head up and down, moving faster with each of his grunts, tongue working at him furiously. He tenses, dick throbbing and releasing warmth to your mouth; you ride him through it, his shallow panting a musical backdrop as you watch white cum drip from the corners of your mouth, down his shaft. When you release him, the rest spills onto his toned stomach. A deep inhale, to catch your breath, then you swallow what’s left.

With nothing to focus on now, no high to push him to, you’re suddenly very aware of his eyes on you. With delicate fingers, he traces the outline of your hips to your waist, lingering on your breasts and how your nipples are hard with cold and pleasure.

“Your turn,” he grins, sitting up and pushing you back into the bed before you could even defend yourself, capturing your lips with his once more.

@12daysofchristmas

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[skzstannie]

"I've been wanting to do that for so long"

SKZ -> Minho x fem!reader

genre: best friends to lovers, fluffffffy wc: ~1,200 cw: none :)

summary: You and Minho are finally able to make something of his consistent flirty behavior.

A/N: Hiii! A little shorter than normal, but I wanted to get something out while I work on the requests I have. Hope everyone is doing well! Please feel free to leave feedback in the comments and like/reblog- it's truly appreciated!

Also, I know a lot of you like the angst, but don't worry! The request I'm working on has lots of it 👀👀

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

"Please tell me we don't have to watch another one of your chick flicks tonight," Minho groans, walking into the living room from the kitchen, two bowls of popcorn in hand.

"Of course we do, do you even know me?" you tease, sinking back further into the couch. You watch as he crosses in front of you, gently setting the bowls down on the table before throwing himself down onto the couch beside you.

It's your and Minho's weekly movie night, and the two of you decided to do it at your apartment this week. Not that the dorms aren't a fun hangout place, it's just sometimes your sensitive eardrums need a break.

The two of you have been friends for forever; you actually met back in elementary school. Your box of crayons was missing the pink one, and Minho became your knight in shining armor when he valiantly and bravely gave you his. From then on, he's been by your side. Need an errand buddy to run to the store with? Minho will come. Need someone to edit your college essay? Minho will do it. Need someone to cry with you on your couch once a week while you indulge yourself in different romantic fantasies? You know Minho will be there every time.

You try not to subject him to your rom coms every week, but it's so easy and fun to immerse yourself in other people's love lives, even if just for an hour and a half.

Your love life is close to non-existent. Minho, and occasionally his band members, are the only male interactions you ever get. You're not necessarily the most outgoing person, so it's hard for you to meet new people.

Not that you're necessarily complaining, I mean, you're so grateful for the friendship you have with Minho, but sometimes you wish it was more than that. His consistent teasing doesn't help your constant delusions. He's always flirting with you, calling you pet names and telling you how beautiful you are. You know it's nothing more than teasing, so you try not to let it affect you.

"How about this one?" you ask him, hovering over The Kissing Booth. You've seen it a million times, but it's one of your favorites; you'll never pass up an opportunity to watch it.

"I couldn't be more indifferent," he comments dryly. You roll your eyes at him and press play, playfully tossing the remote at his side.

"Do that again and I'm snatching it up and changing it," he glances at you, his face blank of emotion. You keep your eyes on the screen, holding back a smirk.

As emotionless as your best friend could come off sometimes, you know he always means well. You are more similar than you'd like to admit, and you know just as well how hard showing other's your emotions can be.

~ ~ ~

"Haven't we watched this one before?" Minho interrupts, his finger pointing accusingly at the screen.

"Maybe..."

"You've got to be kidding me. Where's that damn remote?" his hands sweep over the couch cushions in the dark room, and he looks to you when he comes up with nothing. His narrow eyes meet your innocent ones. "Give me it. I am not watching this one again; it was terrible."

"You didn't think it was terrible 10 minutes ago when your eyes were practically glued to the screen," you counter, holding the remote tightly in your clasped hands.

He scoffs, reaching out towards you. His fingers grasp around your arm and give you a rough pull, making you topple over into him. You let out an embarrassing squawk when you both slip to the floor in your impromptu wrestling match.

You find yourself underneath him, his hands still pulling roughly at the remote.

"Give it to me!"

"No! I want to watch this!"

The struggle continues for a few moments, you desperately trying to protect the remote while Minho sits above you, practically manhandling you.

In a quick lapse of judgement, you let up a little, allowing Minho to pin your hands to the ground above your head. Both of you are breathless as you lay beneath him, a playful smirk gracing the beautiful face in front of you.

Your eyes are wide as you lay there. You expect him to get off you, but he doesn't. He unwaveringly holds his position above you.

You catch his big brown eyes switch between your eyes and your lips, and you feel your breath hitch in your throat when he leans down slightly.

It's silent between the two of you as he slowly comes closer, his gaze remaining on your lips.

Your heart drops when he brings his lips to your ear instead. "I win," he whispers, before casually plucking the remote from your previously pinned hands. He gets off you, adjusting his clothes before he plops back on the couch, immediately exiting out of the movie.

You lay there another moment, thinking about what the heck just happened and whether you're going to let him get away with it.

You sit up abruptly, staring at him with disbelief. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" his gaze remains on the T.V. screen, and you find his nonchalance irritating.

"What do you mean, 'What'?"

"We wrestle all the time, what are you on about?"

Your jaw drops at his statement. "Yes, we do, but not- not like that," you let out a flustered chuckle, shaking your head at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." When he speaks this time, you're able to catch the slightest upturn of his lips.

"You're messing with me," you tell him, not believing his actions could've been all innocent.

He finally breaks his gaze away from the T.V., setting the remote down beside him. "Now why would I do that?"

"Because- because that's what you do! You're sarcastic, and you're sly, and- and..." your frustration gets the best of you, and you bring your hands up to cover your face. You feel your cheeks burn red with embarrassment.

"What did you think was going to happen? Did you want me to kiss you like Noah did to Elle?"

You rip your hands away from your face at that, your jaw dropping at his suggestion. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," his voice is steady, his eye contact strong as he stands his ground. "We've been doing this long enough. I just want to know if this is reciprocated."

"If what's reciprocated?"

"You know, this- this thing between us. Is it reciprocated? Like, do you like like me like I like like you?" He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for an answer you're hesitant to give.

"You're not messing with me?" you're cautious as the question leaves your lips.

"No, I'm not. How can I spell it out for you," he pauses, bringing a hand up to his chin in an exaggerated manner. "I like you. I have a crush on you. I want to be your boyfriend. I-"

"Ok, ok!" you cut him off with a laugh, "I do."

"You like me back?"

"Yea, yea I do."

His actions are quick as he drops to his knees on the floor in front of you. He rushes you, his body moving over yours. His hands grasp your wrists, pushing them above your head.

His legs rest on either side of your hips, pinning you down.

"Ok, let's try this again then."

You let yourself get lost in his eyes as he leans down towards you again.

When his face is close enough for his nose to rest against yours, he brings his lips to yours.

He pulls away when your both breathless, a look of mirth on his face.

"I've been wanting do that for so long."

[luvknow]

sanguine satellite | lee minho

Summary: The last time you saw Minho was five years ago when you rejected him to live out the rest of your twenties in the city. The next time you see him is on your birthday with another woman in his arms, and it sparked everything that was good, bad, and ugly. Now, after years of not being in each other’s lives, Minho tries to repair the friendship he broke while you fight your changing feelings. As you struggle navigating your friendship with him, you struggle more to navigate being single in this next stage of your life. Characters: Lee Minho x fem!Reader, feat. other idols Genre: friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, romance, angst, emotional hurt with comfort, happy ending, slice of life Additional warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, food, aged up a bit and in turn age insecurity, a lot of mentions of a best friend with another idol WC: 18.1k

Today was a pivotal day in the office. Quarter two earnings were released to the public and other divisions of the company and, well, let’s just say with the increasing rise in inflation and the impending recession that everyone refuses to acknowledge, no one wants to buy anything. As a result, the earnings reported negative and stocks dipped, morale was low, and to top it off, it was only Monday.

In a way, this was a metaphor for your life; a tumbleweed of all things that could go wrong did go wrong and formed into an amalgamation of nothing to show for. Some people found value in the mundane, but this was supposed to be the peak of your career, your magnum opus, before progress plateaued and you couldn’t stand the idea of not feeling enriched. To wake up, leave, work, and go home was the reason you wanted to leave your home in the first place for something richer in the heart of the city. But you felt defeated after clocking out at 8:30 PM and slumped on the seat in an empty train cart.

The view of the lively apartment high rises and the warm light of slow brick-and-mortars made the late night train rides worth the twenty minutes. Work wasn’t always this draining, but after climbing the corporate ladder, more money meant more responsibilities and it quickly drained the light from your eyes as it did with many of your peers and friends. Youth was fleeting and today you felt like Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain to no avail, but at least the train would take you as close to it as it possibly could.

After packing up your life from home five years ago to move with your friends, the only plans twenty-something-year-olds ever had in place were reservations at 9:00 PM because you called the hottest spot the day-of and drinks at the bar next door after clocking out at 5:00 PM. You were young, excited, and hungry for life, barely sober most days and experiencing what it meant to be young; but what must be given, something must also be taken. Now, rent was rising, salary increases were few and far in between, and instead of deciding what martini you should be ordering, you were stuck wondering if being a worker bee individual contributor was worth the lull schedule or if taking the path to management and telling whiny subordinates what to do was worth the salary bump.

You and your friends once joked that stuff like this was what people in their thirties worry about. Today is your thirtieth birthday.

You didn’t have time for dinner and once again thanked the real estate Gods who put a restaurant so greasy at the corner of your block that you practically slid on a snail trail to the front door of your loft. So, here you were; eating under-salted french fries, chugging a crispy diet cola, with oil stains on your white button-up, ready to spend the rest of your birthday and probably the rest of your life alone on your overpriced and uncomfortable couch watching the latest drama you’d sob your eyes out to. All you needed now was a pet as your companion and you’d be the whole single-in-your-thirties package. Maybe you’d use that as leverage in your dating apps: looking for a partner, a pet, or both.

After fumbling with the keys, you sighed into your dark, cavernous home and dropped your bag at the door. When you turned on the lights, you saw the ghost of your soul leave your mouth in a loud gasp.

“Surprise!!”

You were greeted with streamers, glitter, balloons, and your closest friends wearing little party hats with their beautiful smiles. You never doubted they remembered, and most wished you happy birthday at midnight, but you should have sensed something was wrong when Chaeryoung asked for your door passcode because she ‘forgot her chapstick on your coffee table.’

She was the first to tackle you in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, mi amor!”

“Let the woman take her shoes off first, damn,” Jisung scolded.

“Wow, there’s certainly a lot of you,” you giggled after prying her off. “You guys shouldn’t have. Really! It’s Monday.”

“All the more to celebrate something worthwhile,” Chan grinned, handing you a glass of wine. “Welcome to the club.”

“Ugh, thanks.” Chaeryoung yanked away the oily bag of fries while you were distracted with the happy juice. “Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Don’t fret! We are having a dinner party because that’s what thirty-year-olds do.”

“Except we ate already because we thought you were coming home well before 9:00 PM,” Hyunjin grinned sheepishly.

“No, yeah, I love when my friends watch me stuff my face.”

The dining table was decorated with burgundy candle sticks, red roses, and black bows. It was definitely a step-up from your twenty-first bubblegum pink and pastel confetti birthday, but this almost seemed… meek? Romantic, sure, but a little dark for a birthday. As Chaeryoung scrambled to fill your plate with take-out and prepare the cake, everyone took their place back at the table. The lights dimmed and out came a jet black cake with a toy knife and red frosting that read, ‘Happy Deathday to Your 20s!’

“A bit dark, but accurate,” you mused.

“Make a wish-!” A knock came at the door. “Shit.”

Everyone looked at each other awkwardly. Chaeryoung, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were present and those were the only people you regularly hung out with. Who could be left?

“Are people still coming?” you asked.

The boys collectively shot a look at a wide-eyed and frozen Chaeryoung, none of them willing to break the news or catch a stray. “Um…”

“What did you do?” you accused. “You didn’t invite that one guy I told you about last month, did you?”

“No, but I wish I had.” Another knock. “Coming!”

“It’s not a coworker, is it?”

“Worse,” Jisung mumbled. “For you, at least.”

“Minho!” Chaeryoung exclaimed happily. “You’re just in time!”

“What -” you hissed at the boys, “- the hell?!”

They all held their hands up in defense. Minho passed the threshold and your twenties flashed before your eyes. The once blondish short and styled middle part now hung loose in soft chocolate strands; eyes that once held the universe were dark and doe-like; and arms that once moved freely in his sleeves now tightened around them. He was a completely different man who you hadn’t seen in five years and here he was at a pivotal moment of your life, about to celebrate you and the life you’ve lived without him for the better half of the last decade. It took all your might to lift your sore legs to walk over to greet your guest and restrain from strangling your best friend. He wore clothes appropriate for a casual dinner party that didn’t spill into the blues of corporate-wear, clearly aware of this occasion, and a small gift bag. His appearance was intentional, not upon happenstance, which made this whole ordeal a lot weirder.

Following him in, hand-in-hand, was a woman. A stranger. Two strangers in your home.

He pulled away from Chaeryoung’s death grip and you locked eyes. It’s awkward, to put it politely; to put it rudely, it was horrifying. Your nervous system certainly felt nervous, firing fight-or-flight responses the way he drank you in like the first sip of a bitter negroni. How someone could evolve and change to the point of being unrecognizable should be studied by Darwin.

He’s the first to break with a small smile to ease the tension. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Happy birthday, _____.”

The bag is small and neatly wrapped with care in your favorite colors. The woman behind him smiled sweetly. “Thank you. You really shouldn’t have. And thank you…?”

“Oh, right. This is Karina, my girlfriend of two years.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. And happy birthday!”

You brain buffered when she bowed. How awkward, because you haven’t heard anything about her other than her existence. You never thought he’d have someone so beautiful. Minho blocked you on social media a long time ago, so you wouldn’t have recognized her. Chaeryoung had to kick you back to life. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you, too! Welcome to my home.”

“There’s wax on the cake!” Jisung warned.

“Oh, hurry in! _____ was about to make a wish!” Chaeryoung pushed the three of you to the dining area.

There’s a bitter taste on your tongue watching him dap up the boys and watching her hug them so warmly. You never faulted them for being neutral. They were just as much as his friends as they were yours but having him here created a thick glass wall on your side of the table, like he was icing you out in your own home; that you paid with your own hard-earned money, mind you! This was as close to a defense mechanism you could build.

Nine people were watching you, all of whom were paired with another in the room except Chaeryoung, in your home. There’s a heavy shroud of dread that’s draped over your makeshift invisible box you struggled to keep upright. This was supposed to feel like a celebration of you, but it quickly turned rotten when you realized you were the only single person on your own side of the table, being made a spectacle as the couples moved closer and watched more intently. It was like they were watching a ghost of singles-past, feeling more appreciative of the life they procured together as you watched their hold on each other tighten ever so slightly.

“Make a wish,” Jisung sang.

You stared blankly at the three sparkling candles. What was there to wish for? You had a good career, a warm home, food on the table, and loved ones who kept you up on your feet. You supposed a better work-life balance would be feasible, but that was something within reach and in your control. To wish is to pray and to pray is to beg, and you weren’t one to beg for anything except for the pickles Chaeryoung picked out of her sandwiches. What was something that even you couldn’t control, something you had to ask some spirit dwelling in the ether for?

A flash of Minho’s eyes boring into yours made your face hot. Maybe you’d just let this wish go to waste instead.

You blew out the candles and applause erupted with Chan eager to cut into the cake. It was your favorite flavor from your favorite local baker whom you trusted every birthday and holiday to deliver the finest treats. At least this part of your birthday was perfect.

“So, what does thirty feel like?” Hyunjin asked. “Do you want the number of the senior home down the street from me?”

“Ha ha,” you drawled. “Aren’t you next, Hwang?”

“Actually, Minho’s next – ow!”

Chaeryong didn’t hide how she elbowed his ribs. She then gave a wide smile and her fingers danced. “Do you feel more mature?”

“As mature as a dry-age steak.”

“Well, you pair well with red wine, at least.” Chan raised his glass. “Here’s to you and to all of us, our priceless friendship!”

Most of us, you wanted to correct, but decided against being uncouth. “Cheers!”

When you were all in the younger halves of the twenties, conversations were about memes, pop culture, and the new hottest bar that just opened. Now, as you were ranting about quarter one earnings and the Windows 11 update, the others doubled down on the corporate jargon. Even Karina, who revealed she was a consultant in tech, participated in the conversations. Minho was the only one who remained quiet, but he was simply enjoying the company, leaning back in the chair with his arm around his woman. For someone who had never visited or even wished well on past birthdays, he was making himself quite at home.

Your birthday dinner lasted long enough to finish off three bottles of wine between everyone and for all the food to disappear, making clean-up much easier. As everyone scrambled around your home clouded in buzzed-up nonsense, Jisung was the one to tour your apartment with Minho and Karina, telling the tale of every picture you hung on a wall or framed on a credenza.

“This was when we went to London one summer after my graduation,” he said. “I’m the youngest, so I was the last one and we decided to make it a big celebration. I think this was the day Minho and _____ got lost and almost hopped on a train to Edinburgh by accident. This one was from Chaeryoung’s twenty-fourth birthday. I think Minho took this picture, actually.”

“Where are you in these pictures, Minho?” Karina wondered innocently.

There’s a breath of silence in the loft aside from you who didn’t pay any mind to his girlfriend’s ignorance. Not like you expect your fallout to be a topic of conversation over a candle-lit dinner date, anyway. You also didn’t expect that look on Minho’s face when he realized that to be true.

“He’s usually the one behind the camera!” Jisung answered, not exactly lying. “You’ve seen his Instagram and how he composes his cat pictures.”

Minho didn’t try to correct him, and they quickly moved on.

As it was the first day of the working week, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were the first to leave. For whatever reason, Minho and Karina decided to stay back. Karina’s motive was unclear; either she was really bad at reading the room or the effort to be friends was genuine, but even when Minho asked if she wanted to leave with everyone, she decided against it.

“Let me help you take the garbage out,” she offered Chaeryoung.

“I can do it,” you and Minho said in unison.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday and this one had a little too much to drink before coming here and when we got here.”

Chaeryoung gave you a sympathetic look as they carried several bags out to the ground floor. What a convenient day for the chute to be broken! They’d take the five-to-ten minutes of traveling to the ground floor out to the back where the bins were.

And then there were two, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, unable to look each other in the eyes after five years of abandonment.

“Hi,” he greeted again, lips flat-lined and unsure of how to move this conversation forward.

You beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His tongue poked his cheek. “I ran into Chaeryoung last weekend at the bar I work at and asked what she was doing for your birthday.”

“Why would you ask that?” you asked coldly.

“I… just knew she'd be doing something for you. Maybe she took it as me asking to get invited, but that wasn’t my intention. I think she panicked, invited me anyway, and here I am.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve,” he agreed, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that asked, ‘but why would I?’

You looked away. “Isn’t this a far drive for you?”

“I live here now. Well, not here; on the other side, closer to downtown and near that bar.”

“Oh. How long have you been a city dweller?”

“About two years now.”

That lined up with his relationship status. It was a fact that it was easier to find partners in the metropolitan, yet somehow you were the only one to remain alone after being one of the first to move here. How was it that Minho managed that in under a month? And if he’s been here for two years, how have you not realized that?

You swallowed the rest of the wine in your glass. “How do you like it?”

“I love it.” He ran a hand through his tired head of hair, creating a split down the middle. The redness on his face had spread from his nose to his cheeks, as it always did when alcohol invaded his bloodstream. “I see why you wanted to move here.”

He, too, must have seen how time was of the essence, and with what little time you have in your young lives, the highest quality of life would be to live where your peers were thriving. If only he understood this years ago.

You nodded sourly, feeling the loneliness resurface after having to repress it for so long. “I’m happy for you.”

“Your mother once told us, ‘mean what you say and say what you mean.’ You don’t have to lie.”

“Don’t tell me what my mother says.”

Tension as thick as jell-o separated you from him. There’s a brief stare down after your threat, or what sounded like a threat, and you swear there’s hurt behind those big eyes of his, but he wouldn’t be the victim here; not when he was the one who left your life and blocked you out of his. He didn’t have the right to be offended by your unwelcoming attitude when he was never welcome to begin with. On your birthday, at that.

Chaeryoung saved the evening and rushed back inside, afraid of the damage you’d tell her later.

“Ready?” Karina asked, squeezing Minho’s bicep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, being the first to break contact. You didn’t help him see his way out, but he said over his shoulder once more, “Happy birthday, _____.”

“Thank you for coming,” you called out sharply.

“It was nice meeting you!” Karina said cheerfully.

“You, too.”

Chaeryoung, the kind woman and hostess as she is, hugged them both and hastened to lock the door. She rushed back, clinging to you and holding your arms inside, likely afraid that you’d break something or chug the rest of the fourth bottle.

“I’m so~o sorry!”

“He told me how it happened. Tell me why I’m not surprised?”

“It was at the bar near your work that I told you about. You didn’t come because you had some reports to submit before midnight. And who do I see behind the bar? Minho, of all people! He was running that shit like the navy! It was hard to talk long over the music, but we said our hellos and he quickly brought up the fact you were turning thirty and asked what I was doing because he knows how much I love you and I’m the bestest friend ever – Anyway, I told him about the surprise, and he looked so damn sad! Jesus Christ, so you know me, an empath, I had to at least offer him an invite. I didn’t think he’d take it, nor did I think he’d ask to bring a plus one, like, yesterday!”

In the midst of her ramblings, you squirmed free from her grip and pulled the poor pouty girl into a tight hug. “I will not let him ruin what you’ve done for me. I love you and appreciate you.”

“It was so hard!” she whined. “The boys are so unreliable! I ask them to buy something for decorations, they don’t answer, and when I ask a few days later they’re like, ‘I got it a while ago,’ and I’m like, ‘why didn’t you say something?!’ and they’re like, ‘I didn’t think I’d need to as long as I brought it the day-of.’ Can you believe that?!”

“After over ten years of friendship, yes, yes I can.”

After cleaning up the remaining crumbs and dishes, Chaeryoung found the gift that Minho and Karina left on one of the chairs. “Did you open it?”

“No. What if it’s a bomb? Can you do it?”

She tossed out the tissue paper and peered inside fearlessly. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

“A gift card and a perfume bottle; a pricey one. Ooh, it smells good!”

The gift card was to a new bar that was opening on the same block as your office. Your boss was excited to finally have a happy hour location so close that you haven’t gone a day without hearing about it since its announcement. The name on the card said ‘DAHLIA’ and the amount it held was five hundred dollars.

“Huh,” Chaeryoung mused, “isn’t this address very close to where you work? And you like dahlias. Scary coincidence.”

“Do you think he’s stalking me?”

“Maybe it’s Karina.”

The perfume was in a sleek clear bottle with a white face and gold cap. It smelled of marshmallows, orange blossoms, and neroli. It would be the most expensive thing you’d own, cosmetics wise.

“They open on Friday,” she said giddily. “We should go!”

The projected menu on their social media did look really good… and they had variations of your favorite drink and ones you’ve never heard of.

“Think of it as a ‘celebration’ to the start of a new quarter! Since it’ll be slower now, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, accepting that poor-quality reasoning for a twenty dollar cocktail. “Ok, let’s go!”

Your best friend squealed happily and dug through your closet, plucking out the shortest skirt in your wardrobe.

--

On Thursday, Chaeryoung canceled on you to go on a third date with the guy she’s been seriously interested in. She was hoping to finally become an exclusive dating couple; not exactly boyfriend-and-girlfriend, but they’re not allowed to see other people since they’re exclusive, so it’s a label-without-the-label situation that you struggled too hard to grasp. If the majority of your peers thought that way about dating, maybe it was a good thing you remained single.

When you exited your office’s high-rise that day, on your way to the train, you passed by an alley in between the Italian place and the coffee shop you and your co-workers frequented. There was an inconspicuous red ‘OPEN’ light at the end above a black door that caught your attention. In a small serif font, the letters ‘DAHLIA’ was stamped on the door. Friday was supposed to be the official opening day according to their social media pages, but there was no mistake it was open as indicated by the bouncer standing guard.

You did have the gift card in your wallet, and you were craving that crispy green tea highball they had in one of their posts. It was only 6:00 PM, maybe they’d have some happy hour deals going on and you could report back to Chaeryoung with your findings.

You walked up to the doorman. “Hi, are you open –”

“I.D.”

Well, that answers that. He allowed you to pass into the low-lit glowing bar. It wasn’t busy like a Friday evening, but almost all of the tufted couches and chairs were filled, leaving a semi-vacant bar up for grabs. The aura of the bar is what one might describe as ‘vibey and chill’, as the low hum of the bass from the hip-hop song in the background vibrated your heart. This was as soft as a soft-opening could get.

On the menu, there was a special on the drink you were looking forward to and a snack pairing: rice paper and seaweed chips with a salt and togarashi seasoning. You knew all those words separately but couldn’t comprehend them together.

“I.D., please,” the bartender asked.

You fumbled for your wallet and mumbled, “Why bother carding at the door if you’re just –”

You dropped your wallet when you saw Minho at the other side of the bar in a white button-down that was buttoned barely half-way. His lips curled teasingly.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you gasped, popping your head up after picking up your wallet. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that the only way you’ll greet me from now on?”

You felt your face burn even before any alcohol entered your system. “Chaeryoung mentioned you worked at the other bar nearby.”

“I own that one, too. This one I just opened.”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. Wait, ‘own’?” He nodded sheepishly. “But that bar has been there forever. I thought that old guy owned it?”

“He was looking to retire, so I jumped the gun and bought it. Kept it mostly the same, added some things I thought would pick up a trend, and it did so well that I was able to open ‘DAHLIA’.”

“That’s incredible,” you congratulated. “I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad that the gift card is so expensive.”

He smiled, but it didn’t translate to his eyes. “Do you work nearby?”

“At the tall building down the street.”

He’s just as taken back as you are. Maybe he wasn’t stalking you. “Crazy coincidence. But it’s late already. Long day?”

You sighed. “Most days are this long.”

“Yikes. Can I get you a drink?”

“The green tea highball looks good.”

“Coming right up.”

Minho rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and did his witchcraft. In a highball glass, a ludicrously elongated ice cube was placed. Then, two shots of Japanese whiskey from the mid-shelf (never mind the overpour), an ounce of cold brew jasmine green tea, and what little space was left was topped with club soda. Using a long bar spoon, Minho mixed its contents and offered it to you with a stainless steel straw.

You hummed happily. “Whoa.”

“I agree.”

“Where was this on my twenty-first?”

“I dare you to Google the whiskey I used and see if you think we could have afforded that at twenty-one.”

“I see your point.”

There’s a long pause of waiting for the other to say what they mean and to mean what they say. You thought about how coldly you displayed yourself to Minho and it ate up your thoughts the whole week. Even when he was the one who wanted you out of his life, he was the one to find you and it seemed he was here to stay, to be next to where you worked, and to be a part of your everyday life as you’d think about him every time you passed this alley between the office and the train. Was this a gift or a curse?

The wound was still fresh, but he was not the only one to blame.

You cleared your throat. “Listen, I –”

“I think –”

You both paused again. After all these years, your wavelengths were still in sync.

“Go ahead,” you offered.

“I think…” …We shouldn’t talk when we see each other? I shouldn’t have given you a gift? We should unpack the trauma we gave each other over coffee some time? “You should try the snack pairing.”

Possibly the best words to leave his lips. “Please.”

“One sec,” he said before running to the kitchen.

Your palms were sweaty, but if anyone asked, you’d feign it was from the condensation on the glass. Your first real conversation with Minho in five years was more stressful than presenting to upper management. Any courage of apologizing had fizzled and the fear of being vulnerable was chilling. You hoped the rest of the drink would give you that push.

Minho came back slightly breathless with a bowl of curly seaweed and rice chips with red seasoning. He stared at the glass that was almost full just a second ago.

“Would you like another one?”

Your vision was already swirly. “No, thank you. But these look delicious.”

The crunch from the fried rice paper was loud enough to make some heads turn. It was salty and the seaweed flavor shined through. The punch from the togarashi made you wish you had taken up the offer on another drink.

You let out another happy hum, and your sinuses cleared. “Wasabi!”

“Really sobers you up, huh?”

“I can smell colors.”

He let out a genuine laugh and you got a glance of his little bunny teeth. You wondered if he’d still have them when he was sixty.

The shy bartender fiddled with the kitchen towel. “You were going to say something?”

“Right. I’m –”

“Excuse me!” a customer approached the bar. “Can I have an espresso martini?”

“Absolutely!” Minho said in his customer service voice.

Espresso martinis were all the craze these days, especially with the ladies. You understood why, they were delicious and reminded everyone of a sweet little treat before the work day. You watched as Minho threw in his Boston shaker ice, vodka, coffee liqueur, and cold brew, and shook with all his might. The muscles you noticed on your birthday shined through, as the veins on his forearms and biceps were put to work. Your eyes traveled shamefully to his open chest, focusing on the groove in between. He poured the creamy drink into a martini glass and added it to her tab.

You drank the complimentary ice-cold water before he returned.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, I’m the one interrupting your work.” Despite drinking a multitude of fluids, your throat was dry and sharp, like the words were scraping skin on their way out. Just say it, dammit! “I’m sorry how I treated you on Monday.”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that after so long.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have.”

“For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for attending.”

“You should have chosen another time to meet.”

“Your thirtieth birthday is important. It’s a huge milestone. I couldn’t dream of missing it.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

He hung his head in a way that a puppy would when being punished. “I know.”

“You –” you choked. “I don’t know. I don’t know what or how to feel.”

“Maybe we could start over.”

“Start over?”

“Hi,” he held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Minho, I’m a bartender and chef, and we met when we were nineteen.”

“Minho –”

“Would you like to get coffee next door some time?”

“You are ridiculous.”

The rush of after-work over timers hit the bar like a thirsty school of fish. Two other bartenders jumped in, but they needed Minho to keep up a good speed. From his navy pants pocket, he pulled out his business card and slid it over.

“My number’s on the card.”

It was different from the one you had saved on your phone and he knew that. “Wait, I need to close out my tab.”

“It’s on me. Let me make up for Monday.”

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before taking the next customer. His mannerisms made every customer smile or blush. ‘Come closer’ he’d gesture with his finger, leaning in to hear their order, and winking after handing off the final product; rinse and repeat.

You left a hefty tip under your glass and slipped away from the crowd. At home, you spent half an hour rubbing your cheeks, unaware of how sore they were after the train ride.

--

The business card hung on your fridge under a London magnet. Every day, you’d wake up, stare at it while filling your water bottle, leave for work, come home, and stare at it some more as you prepared dinner. In the same serif font in black ink, in the center of the card was his full name. Under it said ‘Restauranteur’, followed by ‘DAHLIA’, the Japanese flavors-inspired bar, and ‘RED LIGHT’, the one with American flavors. His phone number and email were in small print, all information embossed on an off-white business card. ‘Classy’ was the most appropriate description of such a card, while yours was so plain in comparison. Technology products didn’t need that kind of pizazz, to be fair.

The next time you saw Chaeryoung was for a girls’ night-in on a Wednesday to gush about her new exclusive not-boyfriend. She noticed the business card while putting the dishes in the sink and plucked it from the fridge, already aware of what transpired on Thursday before.

“‘Restauranteur’,” she scoffed. “Ok, Minho.”

“I know, right? Can you believe he bought out that sleazy old man?”

“I always wondered why the quality went up all of a sudden. I can’t believe he hid that from everyone else, too! We’ve all been meeting around that area for months! Why did he give you this, though?”

“I guess he changed his number.”

“What? He’s had this number for a while now.” You shot her a deadpanned look. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t have known whether he changed it or not. Did you hit him up?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? It feels… too soon.”

“Five years feels too soon?”

“No,” you sighed, unable to form the words in the right sentence. “We’re already on awkward footing after my birthday. And seeing and talking to him made my blood pressure spike to an unhealthy degree.”

“So, you’re nervous?”

Nervous wasn’t right. It felt much deeper than that. “Afraid.”

If anyone knew the degree of pain and confusion you held for Minho, it was Chaeryoung. She always did her best to understand, but there are some things one must experience to understand, and this was one of them. She held you firm by the shoulders and knitted her brows.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

The music streaming on your phone paused as your best friend moved swiftly to the couch, already propping her feet up on the chaise before you could register what happened. The clicking of your phone keyboard over the bluetooth speaker snapped you back and you ran to join her.

“Wait, don’t!” you warned.

“‘Hey, bro’,” she said as she typed, “Too casual?”

“I’m thirty. I don’t say ‘bro’.”

“All right, jeez. ‘Hello, Minho. I hope this text finds you well. Per our last meeting – ’”

“Now you’re just being a dick.”

“I’m kidding, relax! ‘Hi, it’s _____. It was nice seeing you on Thursday.’”

“I wouldn’t say it was a ‘nice’ meeting.”

“Oh, my God, shut up. ‘Good to see you on Thursday,’ happy? ‘Would you like to get coffee some time?’ And send. This is fun, it’s like when we used to project our dating app DMs on the TV! Oh, wow he’s typing already. Asshole, he never answers any of us in the group chats until the next day.”

Texting a boy and sweating, waiting for his response… Were you thirteen again? The notification ding made your heart jump.

Your brows furrowed, matching Chaeryoung’s. “‘Hey! Of course I would. Just tell me when.’ Um. Tell him sometime next week?”

“‘Tomorrow at 11:00AM?’”

“Chaer!”

“‘See you then.’ You’re welcome!” she cheered, tossing your phone on your lap.

“Now he’ll think I’m excited…”

“Whether you are nervous, excited, or afraid, shouldn���t that mean something? That maybe you still have him in your cold, dead heart somewhere?”

“It took years of therapy to heal what was wounded. I don’t know if this will feel like closure or if I’m opening up my stitches.”

“And I’ll be here to help suture if it comes to it; again and again!” she encouraged, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I just want our friend group back together, you know? This is a start, sort of.”

“I know. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

“Too late.”

--

The day it happened, the clouds were grey, and they cried and cried, pouring down the heaviest rain of the year. It rattled Minho’s windows like bullets made from hail, drowning the silence and filling the room with nothing but sorrow.

Tonight, you were celebrating your new job and the big move. After the plates were emptied, the music that played over his speakers slowed, and filled with wine and tenderness, you two swayed to the rhythm in each other’s arms. First, he had your hand in his and lightly hovered over your waist, leading the waltz across the living room with ease. As the songs progressed, his hold on you tightened. He laced his fingers with yours, traveled his hand to your lower back, then placed the other there, too, after wrapping your arm around his neck. He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses touching and nuzzling so sweetly it made your heart soar.

He sighed happily, shoulders relaxing under your arms. “Should we be doing this?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you replied light heartedly, “you are just a friend, after all.”

“Do friends do this? Should we ask Chaeryoung and Jisung?”

“Not if you want to hear them gagging all night.”

His breathy laughs hit your lips and his eyes fluttered closed. “I want to kiss you.”

You’ve wanted to kiss him for five years. “Then kiss me.”

“And I want you to stay.”

“Stay?” You took a step back, hating the cold air that replaced his space. “What do you mean ‘stay’?”

“Don’t leave,” he begged.

“Minho –”

“Stay here with me.”

“No,” you said firmly. “This is the biggest thing to happen to my career, and I’m not throwing away this grand opportunity. Won’t you come with me instead?”

“You know I can’t leave my family right now.”

“Then,” you sighed, “do I wait for you?”

“Wait? We have options; what about long distance?”

“You know how vigorous my career is. I work long days and long nights. I can’t call you or text you the way that other people do.”

“So what?” he argued, throwing his hands up in frustration.

This was the first time you were having this talk. Never before had either of you revealed the feelings that mingled in the air whenever you were in the same room together. For years, you repressed them, too scared to cross the thin line that separated friendship from lovers and unwilling to feel vulnerable and reveal the true feelings of your heart. Because truthfully, you wouldn’t have time. You wouldn’t have time to drain and pour your heart into something – someone – that wasn’t the projects that laid out on your office desk, and how was that fair to someone you loved so dearly? As much as you wanted to love and to give, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you repeated. “That’s not fair to either of us. We deserve one hundred percent of each other, not fifty, or even ninety.”

“You’re not even willing to try?” he mumbled.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “How could you spring this on me the weekend before I leave?”

“This was my only chance –”

“No, it wasn’t. You had five years. Five years! And you know how important my career is to me!”

“What about me? Aren’t I important to you, too?”

“Don’t,” you stuttered.

“No, it’s not that I’m not important, it’s that your career is more important. Is that it?” When you couldn’t answer, he nodded his head, accepting the poor answer. “All I wanted was for us to try.”

“I can’t give you one hundred percent of me.”

“Then I’ll give more! One hundred ten percent; one hundred fifty!”

“How long can you last like that when you don’t know when we’ll be together again?”

“I won’t know unless we try.”

“I don’t want to try. Trying means uncertainty. For five years, I have been certain about you. But I’m certain it won’t work when we are not present.”

“We’re going in circles.” Minho turned and ran a hand through his fluffy, light bronze hair. This color on him, you remembered, made him look so young.

“I can wait,” you whispered. “We can be friends still, and –”

“I don’t want to be friends.”

You couldn’t decide if your mouth should hang open or sew it shut forever. Still, you managed to slip out, “What?”

“It’s all or nothing for me, _____.” His eyes mirrored your glossy ones and the tip of his nose that was just on yours a second ago was reddening. “I don’t want friendship with you. I want love and passion, and I want you to tell me you want it, too. We aren’t friends; we never were really just friends, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

He closed the gap and his hands found yours, squeezing so tightly it was almost painful. “Then show me that you know! Tell me you want this! Tell me you don’t want to be just friends! Tell me you want me, desire me, that you can’t go a day without having me, the way I would for you!”

You shook your head. Long distance relationships never worked. You witnessed it through your coworkers, through friends, and bosses, and even old classmates who had deleted every existence of their past love and left no digital footprint on their timeline. Every relationship you ever knew to be long distance had never worked out, and you knew this one wouldn’t be any different.

He let go and stepped away. “I wish you a fulfilling life in the city –”

“Don’t do this.”

“– and I’m sorry, but I can’t be friends with you –”

“Minho, please…”

“– I can’t be just friends with someone who has my heart and doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Instead of rescinding, instead of apologizing and taking the leap of faith, taking the risk that came with being vulnerable and open and raw so you could see what it meant to be loved and cherished by someone who wanted to love and cherish, you decided to lock your heart away and to never reveal it to anyone ever again.

That was the last time you saw Minho. On your thirtieth birthday, he broke every layer you built to protect yourself in a matter of seconds.

--

“Earth to _____!”

In between ‘DAHLIA’ and your office, there was a coffee shop with outside seating. As you waited at one of the tables, the record player in your head had recalled that night, and once it started, it wouldn’t stop until it finished. Just as you finished, Minho arrived and waved a hand in front of your face and you wondered how long it took for you to notice.

“Sorry! Daydreaming.”

“About work?”

Did he truly think your mind was entirely consumed about work? “Yeah. Work.”

“Well, you keep daydreaming, and I’ll get us coffee. What would you like?”

“No, it’s my turn to get you something!”

“Nonsense! You also tipped me way too much. You still order the usual?”

If you were one thing, you were consistent. “The usual.”

Minho would do this finger-gun thing when he was feeling awkward, and he did so as he walked to the counter. His outfit wasn’t as formal as the night you saw him at the bar. His jeans were black and his sweater a bright cobalt; a color that allowed him to be the center of attention when he wasn’t asking for it.

You were the one to ask him to meet - or rather Chaeryoung was - but you didn’t consider what you’d talk about.

He came back with your usual and his usual, which was an iced americano. At least he, too, was consistent, and that hadn’t changed.

“Busy at work?” he asked, clearly not sure what to talk about, either.

“Yeah. Always busy, sadly.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said your hours would be long.”

“No,” you confirmed, “I wasn’t. What about you? What’s your work day like as the city’s coolest restaurateur?”

“You flatter me. I work at ‘RED LIGHT’ during the day, and head to ‘DAHLIA’ at night.”

You tried to estimate his work hours in your head. “Back-to-back?”

“Yup.”

“Everyday?”

“Kind of. If it’s slow on like, a Monday or Tuesday, I’ll head out early and let the closers handle it. Otherwise, my day off is whenever I feel like it, but it’s not a real day-off. I use those days to answer emails and organize the budget or the inventory. Takes every waking moment to run a restaurant or bar, you know?”

“I don’t know. How do you balance everything?”

“Well, I love my job. It’s hard, but I don’t find it draining. I guess that helps. I don’t mind waking up at five in the morning, working, and going to sleep, at least not yet. I’m sure I’ll hit a wall someday, but I’m doing my best to not let that happen.”

You’re afraid to ask the next question. “How do you balance your relationship with Karina when you’re so busy?”

“Phone calls, Facetime, designated nights for dates, surprise visits, little gifts and flowers here and there,” he nodded, looking at the table. “It’s hard, but we’re trying. That’s what’s important.”

Your coffee’s bitter and you didn’t want to bother with it after a couple of sips, but you keep at it to keep your lips occupied and to hide the way your teeth grit at the underlying accusation. “That takes a lot of patience. Some people struggle with that.”

He caught your drift and it appeared he realized he deserved that. “And you? Seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Not even casually?”

“No. Some dates here and there, but they never stick.”

“Why is that?”

“Either they’re boring, too intimidated by a strong female corporate supplicant, or I’m the problem.”

“Isn’t it -” he began but stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“Say what you mean,” you pushed light heartedly.

“Isn’t it lonely?”

It’s true that it seemed like Cupid made his way around your friend group and you were the last to get hit. When your friends came home at night, they’d be welcomed into open arms and warm bodies. You came home to snacks and warmth was in the form of a fuzzy blanket you kept on the couch. At the height of your career, you once believed that love could wait, that it would find you at the right time and you’d know right then you were ready. As Minho sat across from you picking your brain about the emptiness that came with climbing the corporate ladder, the fear of feeling incomplete was imminent.

You wouldn’t let him see that part of you.

“I like my alone time.”

“But you have so much love in your heart.” He cleared his throat, regretting the arrangement of those words when he saw how your face twisted. What would he know about what’s in your heart? “Who do you give your affections to?”

“Must it be romantic?” you retorted. “My love is given to those you saw on my birthday.”

“I guess not. You’ve always been a romantic, though.”

“Five years is more than enough time to change who I was the last time you saw me.”

“Is that change good?” he asked nervously.

‘Is the result of feeling loveless from rejection and isolation a good change? Are you an idiot?’ you wanted to ask. But that would put the blame on him and blaming him meant acknowledging how much he affected you after all these years.

“Is that change good,” you repeated thoughtfully. “Neutral.”

“Neutral?”

“I think the decision we made five years ago put us where we are today; we’re both successful young adults thriving in a beautiful city. But I lost you as a result. So, the good must come with some bad. That’s neutral, no?”

His lips formed a smile, but again, it did not travel to his eyes. “You know, I was scared to come here today.”

“I’m not that terrifying, am I?”

“At first I thought, ‘wow, Chaeryoung did not try hard to pretend to be you at all.’”

You giggled. “No; no, she didn’t.”

“And then I thought, ‘we’ll be in public. She won’t kill me in front of people, right?’”

“Kill you!”

“But I know that wouldn’t have stopped you either way,” he grinned. “You haven’t killed me yet. Is it crazy of me to think of this as a good sign?”

“A sign! Is there something you’re looking to gain out of this meeting?” you teased.

“Yes,” he admitted, “a friend.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of what to say, but your face twisted in a way that mimicked your thoughts. “A friend?”

“I know you and I have said and done some unkind things back then that we may not be able to forgive each other for, but after seeing you on your birthday, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. You may not believe me, but I miss you.”

Your head and your heart were in conflict. You had spent all this time trying not to miss him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unwilling to say the truth. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you all of a sudden. But… do you think it’s possible? That we could be friends again?”

How quickly would you lose him a second time? “I think we shouldn’t force it.”

“Friendships bloom naturally, of course.”

A flash of pink blurred your peripherals before it became the center of your attention. Karina held a finger to her lips as she approached Minho from behind, covering his eyes with her slender fingers. He took her hand and kissed it, leaning back to look at his glittering diamond with hearts in his eyes. They were a beautiful couple and it was as clear as day how much they adored each other. Witnessing love was supposed to be like looking at a garden of roses, but as you sat across in a front-row seat, you thought to yourself how much you disliked the smell of roses, anyway.

“Hi!” she greeted happily. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have lunch plans.”

You shook your head, dismissing the tightness in your gut. “No, please interrupt. I’m sorry for keeping him.”

“Would you like to join?”

You would rather jump off the roof of your fifty-floor office building. “Thank you, but I made plans with my co-workers already.”

“Then, we’ll have to get dinner some time!”

It pained you how much you disliked her. She didn’t deserve it. “Dinner some time sounds great.”

As Minho got up to leave, he leaned over the table and in a hushed tone said, “I just want you to know that you still cannot hide your feelings on your face.”

“My boss thinks it’s my killing charm.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Minho’s wink was like a button that set off every alarm in your body. As he walked away, hand-in-hand with the love of his life, you tortured yourself watching them recede until they rounded the corner.

–

Unfortunately, it was common workplace etiquette to have drinks with your coworkers after hours now that your schedules had slowed down. How convenient it was that ‘DAHLIA’ was open and even more so that your coworkers were eager to go. Initially, you tried to wiggle out of going, but your close comrade Choi San wouldn’t allow it.

He slammed his veiny hand on your desk, and you jumped. “Jesus -”

“_____ _____,” he boomed, loudly announcing your government name.

“No.”

“Come on! You haven’t joined us in, like, forever!”

“Forever will continue.”

“And if I bribe you with free drinks?”

You paused typing. “I’m listening.”

“You, me, and the forty-fifth floor at ‘DAHLIA’ in ten minutes.”

“‘DAHLIA’?” you repeated. “Does it have to be that bar?”

“Mingi already called the place to reserve. Why, is it not good?”

“No, quite the opposite.”

“Then make haste, my lady!”

The whole way across the street, San had his arm around your shoulder in a tight grip, too afraid to let you slip at the slightest chance of hesitancy. The smooth skin of his forearms touched your neck and it was close enough to smell the cologne he dabbed just minutes before leaving the building, which you now realized to be on purpose.

Inside, a bunch of young corporate acolytes gathered all throughout the bar, all of whom you worked and were familiar with. Minho, though busy taking their orders, saw you and San come in. He did a double take, eyebrow twitching upwards at the arm suffocating your neck. Your lips formed the words, ‘kill me’, as San guided you forward to the line to order.

Small talk with San was never small when he easily filled you in on his latest interests and hobbies. The other women in the office who were nearby engaged with him enthusiastically. Admittedly, there were a multitude of reasons why San was popular around the office. He was intelligent, always willing to lend a helping hand, had a positive attitude even when days were long and tough, and most importantly, he was so hot that your boss had to jokingly warn him several times to tone it down. His argument was it wasn’t his fault that button-downs were tight on his back and arms.

Minho was the one to usher you forward with his index and middle fingers. 

San wrapped his arm around your shoulder again for no apparent reason. “Hello!” he greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi. _____,” he addressed to you informally.

“‘Sup, Minho,” you sighed.

“You two know each other?” San inquired. “Is that why you didn’t want to come?”

San’s only flaw was that he talked too much. Your jaw ticked. “Old friends. And no, that’s not why.”

“Oh!”

“What can I get you two?” You thought you heard ice in Minho’s voice, but you must be mistaken.

You needed something strong. “A negroni, please.”

“Double that,” San said.

Minho neither confirmed nor denied hearing the order before starting on it. Finally, you’re able to breathe easier when the weight of San’s muscly arm lets you go, confident that you wouldn’t book it out the bar. He instead turned his body to you, creating a wall and making you feel like you were under a microscope.

“Your presentation to the team yesterday was, um, amazing,” he stuttered.

Calling a weekly work presentation amazing was odd; he’s heard you lead them probably a hundred times by now. “Yeah? Thanks.”

“And the way you were able to answer all of the questions Boss Man fired at you? It’s no wonder you’re his favorite.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m his favorite.”

“Well, you’re my favorite.” As soon as those words left his lips, he pursed them together and shut his eyes. “I-I mean the team’s favorite.”

You nearly snorted, though your smile was hard to hide. “That’s… certainly an honor -”

“Two negronis,” Minho interrupted as he pushed the glasses forward.

“I got it,” San reiterated.

“Thanks. I’ll get the next one. I’ll meet you over in a bit; gonna talk to my good ol’ friend here,” you forced a grin. Like an obedient dog, San joined the others at the reserved tables.

“Wow, he’s…” Minho trailed off. “A lot.”

“Mother always said not to say mean things.”

“That was me being nice. Don’t tell me that’s your type.”

“Minho! That would be highly inappropriate workplace behavior,” you teased, though he didn’t seem amused. “Besides, what do you know about my type?”

He smirked. “I think I would know better than anyone.”

The twinge in your chest was crushing. Had Cupid returned with sturdier arrows? “Remember, things can change.”

“Did they, though?”

Why did that matter? “I’ll see you later, Minho.”

The whole night, San hovered over you like a shadow, more than he ever had before. Maybe he saw Minho as competition after your coworkers prodded for the story behind you and the hot bartender. He wouldn’t have to worry, though, as he was highly mistaken about both Minho and having interest in someone you worked with.

You would thank San in the morning for dragging you out that night because he reminded you the importance of camaraderie. It was nice to be surrounded by people who shared the same professional struggles as you and it was freeing for everyone to let their walls down. Many of your co-workers were also single and struggling, filling the bar with chatter about failed dates and competing to see who had the worst one as of late. This was the first night in a long while that you had fun, and even though the man that haunted your thoughts was less than twenty feet away, you wouldn’t let him ruin this one night out of many.

But you felt it; that burn in the back of your head like twin cigarettes had bore themselves into your skull; the piercing eyes of an onlooker who couldn’t look away from you and the buff man next to you all night. Each time you tried to catch him in the act, he had anticipated it, busying himself with a customer or peeling orange twists, and when you looked away, you’d feel it again.

Like a worm eating its way through an apple, the fire in Minho’s eyes consumed you.

–

‘Wya?’

On a random weeknight, Minho texted you this just as you were leaving the office. You looked around outside looking for a sniper or an inconspicuous spy but did not see anything suspicious or sensed any danger. To that, you replied with, ‘Leaving the office. Why?’

‘Don’t move.’

If you weren’t panicking before, you were now. Then, from around the alley where ‘DAHLIA’ was, Minho popped up with a tote bag on his arm and an apron slung over his shoulder. He waved and flashed his feline smile, unaware of how cryptic his texts were.

“You didn’t literally have to not move,” he teased.

“Maybe you should normalize giving context.”

“Context is: do you have dinner plans tonight?”

Your plan was to pick up grocery store sushi and binge watch TV, if you’d call that a plan. “Not really. Why?”

He gestured to his tote bag. “I was going to my test kitchen. Do you want to be my guinea pig?”

You considered saying no, but free food was involved. Plus, this is what friends would do, right? “Where’s this test kitchen of yours?”

“In my townhome. ‘Test kitchen’ just sounds cooler.”

The train ride to Minho’s place was the same distance as yours, just in the opposite direction. There wasn’t a ‘nice’ or a ‘bad’ side of the city, but you definitely wouldn’t classify this as the ‘bad’ side. Rows and rows of townhomes occupied endless streets in this neighborhood and each one had its own charm. Minho’s was right in the middle and the reddest, brickiest one on the block while the others had conformed to a more modern grey stucco-style.

The inside was anything but traditional though, with touches of modern style and technology. The first floor was similar to your loft, with an open floor plan combining the kitchen and living room meant for a true host and entertainer. The kitchen, of course, was the most updated, with a fancy six-burner stove, a magnetic display of different knives, and a giant white-granite island.

Soonie, Doongie, and Dori greeted Minho first by rubbing up against his calves and then greeted you second, unaware of the time that passed and recognizing your scent like you were only gone on a short trip.

You gasped happily, scratching their little heads and ears. “My fat ‘n furry step-children!”

“Looks like they missed you,” Minho chuckled.

“Oh, I missed you, too!” you cooed. “Can I help with any prep?”

“Can you help wash the produce?”

“Yes, chef.”

You tried not to stare too long at Minho while he tied the apron around his waist and rolled up his sleeves. There were vegetables in his tote bag you’ve never seen before, like the bulbous onion-like thing that smelled of licorice and a variation of a mushroom that looked like it would turn you into a zombie.

“Everything’s a vegetable or a fruit,” you noted.

“I’m attempting some vegetarian and vegan options outside of a salad and some dessert. If it doesn’t work out, the Thai place down the street is really good.”

Minho instructed you to cut vegetables in ways that you didn’t even know had a name to the technique. You had to tell him to talk to you like a five-year-old because you were not someone who knew what it meant to julienne a carrot or prepare the mise en place.

The first dish was a seared cabbage wedge. Cut the head into wedges; sear on the pan; make a soy-sugar-rice-vinegar saucy thing; shave a potato and toast it like a breadcrumb; retrieve the soy-and-smoke-cured egg yolk and… shave it?

“What do you mean ‘shave it’?” you muttered, holding the hardened yellow orb of congealed something in one hand and a sharp sword-like thingamabob in the other. “Isn’t it going to burst?”

Minho, bless his heart, stood behind you and guided your hands together. His hands, despite going through hundreds of washes and touching all things hot and cold, were soft and warm on top of yours. He had you shave one quarter of the solid egg yolk over the dressed cabbage wedge.

“The yolk is cured, so it’s solid all the way through,” he said.

His breath tickled the shell of your ear and it turned hot. Was the oven set to a thousand degrees? “O-Oh! Wow, that’s cool. Is it done?”

It was only then that Minho released his hold. “Yup. Try it.”

Cooking was a hidden form of sorcery. It was one of the most complex and delicious dishes you’ve ever eaten. Salty from the potato breadcrumb, savory from the egg yolk, and sweet from the soy sauce, feeling different textures and flavors so good you had to stop yourself from moaning.

“Good?” he asked. All you could do was nod vigorously with eyes wide and glittering. He smiled genuinely and his eyes sparkled, too. He opened his mouth and said, “Ah~”

That was your cue to feed him a bite. You gathered the perfect amount of everything onto a fork for him. As he chewed, his brows knitted together thoughtfully and you’re unsure of what that expression meant. From his pocket, he took out a small field notes book and scribbled something quickly.

“You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I like it a lot.”

“Why is your face like that?”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look so angry.”

“That’s just how my face looks.”

Next was a vegetarian bone marrow. Nothing about bones or marrows sounded remotely vegetarian, but Minho handed you two fat king oyster mushrooms to halve and remove the centers while he sautéed a medley of other mushrooms in salted butter, garlic, and thyme. There was a comfortable silence in the kitchen as you both worked. Nothing felt awkward, or forced, or as bitter as your last meetings were.

As you waited for Minho’s further instructions, you toured the living space and observed all the pictures. You were in about half of them. Most were of your entire friend group, but many were significant moments in your lives, like graduation, birthdays, talent shows, or candid solo pictures. After all these years, when you kept any evidence of him hidden in a shoe box in your closet, he displayed you loud and proud. You glossed over the number of pictures of Karina for your own sake but seeing her face that many times made you stop looking.

When you turned back, Minho was staring at you so intently, he forgot to pretend he wasn’t watching.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he cleared his throat. “Um, the next step is ready.”

Under an immersive blender (“Immersion blender, silly.”) was the sautéed medley and the guts of the king oyster mushroom, softened cream cheese, and olive oil. The paste was bagged and piped back into the charred and seasoned center of the cut-out king oyster mushroom. With a flame torch, Minho darkened the paste, creating a bruleed outer layer, and topped it off with pink peppercorns, pecorino, and chives. Triangles of buttered toast were the vehicle.

Minho took a spoon and scooped out the center. “A little bit of ‘marrow’ and voila. And the ‘bone’ is edible, too, obviously.”

Your eyes teared up at the fireworks of umami. “Will you cater for my next birthday?”

“For you, I will.”

After course upon course of seared and leafy bites of savory and salty goodness, you greenlit practically all of them to Minho’s dismay (“Guinea pig means to critique, not suck up to.”). Dessert was the final leg of courses. From preserved lemon sorbets to chocolatey bites of flourless cake, you would fall into a deep sleep tonight on a cloud of spun sugar.

“I’m drunk on life,” you sighed happily.

“I like you best that way.”

“Seriously, Minho, you have something really good here. I’m no expert, but I think –”

“Wait!” he interrupted. “Chocolate on your lip.”

“Huh? Here?” you licked once.

“Not even close.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“Where’s a napkin?”

“Hold still, will you?”

Minho held your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted up. Like a surgeon, he meticulously wiped away all evidence of your inner chocolate-devouring goblin with his other thumb. For a moment, he lowered his hand to wipe it on his apron, but he caught you looking at his lips.

“Th-Thanks,” you whispered.

He took the chocolate-covered thumb and sucked it clean, maintaining his gaze before it lowered. “My pleasure.”

The kitchen felt hot and it was hard to breathe. The alarms in your head went off again; the longer you stayed, the faster you’d fall. “I-I should go.”

“Wait –”

“This was great by the way!” you called as you backed up towards the door. “S-So good! And thank you, I will pay you back for any groceries!”

“That’s not necessary, I invited you here.”

“Let me know what you decide to add to the menu, and I’ll-I’ll stop by some time, yeah?”

You didn’t give him the opportunity to answer before running out the door.

–

The following weeks after your inappropriately intimate tasting, you avoided Minho as long as you could. It hadn’t even been a month since you saw him for the first time and you already crossed the thin line that was never meant to be crossed. You couldn’t even be strong for that long before you fell back into the routine of desiring the one man you weren’t allowed to have.

This was the curse of Cupid. He had successfully shot and landed an arrow into every friend you loved, pairing them up with their person and the match-up was so right it was scary. Somehow, at the perfect time under the correct circumstances, your friends found the ones that completed their other half, or so they said, and you witnessed love in full bloom every time it happened and everyday since. When it was shoved in your face like that, how could you not think about what you were missing out on every single day of your life?

You used to think considering a couple as two halves was a disservice to humanity. Halves implied that part of you was missing; it suggested that one could never be whole alone, that they spend their whole lives finding someone who fit the two-piece puzzle. A two piece puzzle was supposed to be the easiest puzzle in the world, but in a box filled with over eight billion pieces, it would take forever for Cupid to pair the pieces. At twenty-five, after that stormy night, you once believed that you could survive as one single piece among the eight billion for the rest of your life at the bottom of the pieces pile, if it came to it; but now that you’re the last of the friend group to yet find your match - at thirty, at that - maybe Cupid had a point to the whole two halves make a whole argument.

Because admittedly, as much as you tried to convince yourself on your thirtieth birthday, you didn’t feel whole. Hell, you barely felt like half; and every time you saw Minho, bits of you were being chipped off to the point that you were scared of losing your half of the puzzle.

To distract yourself from thinking about Minho licking chocolate from your lips, you finally jumped the gun and downloaded dating apps for the first time. Well, Chaeryoung and Jisung did.

“Put on your bathing suit,” she ordered.

“Excuse you.”

“What? All your selfies are so normal!”

“Normal is a good thing, Chaer.”

“But it’s not,” Jisung piped in. “Dating is not what it used to be. Before, it was as simple as looking pretty, saying your favorite song or movie, and naming the restaurant you want your first date to be at. Now, you have to get personal. Name a niche hobby, what character from a TV show represents you the most, what childhood trauma affected your frontal lobe development -”

“Ok, I get it.”

Jisung and Chaeryoung sandwiched you tightly on the couch even though the view of the tablet was easily seen. Chaeryoung filled in all the prompts for you a little too enthusiastically while Jisung was there to judge through the lens of the male gaze and snacks.

The woman beside you cackled evilly. “This is so much fun! I can’t believe you’re finally doing this. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

“Seriously. What man made you do this?” Jisung teased.

You yanked the tablet back. “No one.”

“Liar.”

“Who do you think, Han?” Chaeryoung stated bluntly. “Who else could have brought this blessing upon us?”

“Oh,” he mused, “duh.”

“Shut up, both of you! No one made me do this. Am I not worthy of finding love?”

“Of course you are. Just not this way.”

“Why not this way?”

“Just watch.”

The second someone completes their profile, it’s like the app forces it at the top of everyone’s algorithm. You received a lot of interest and private messages in the first five minutes, many of which were… bold…

“Men are so uncouth,” you groaned. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shrugged, pointing to his head and then his groin. “Two heads, two brains.”

“Ugh, gross.”

Chaeryoung swiped left at lightning speed. “Too young, too old, too short, too tall, too smart –”

“I like smart,” you pouted.

“The key to a healthy relationship is to be smarter than them.” Jisung didn’t argue, as he was happily committed to his intelligent partner (a mystery to all, as no one knew how he bagged a research fellow).

There’s a knock on your door. The three of you look at each other in confusion.

“You two need to stop secretly inviting strange men to my home,” you accused before getting up.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Jisung defended, “did you?” Chaeryoung denied.

When you opened the door, a disheveled Minho stood there with an oily bag in his hands. He raised a brow. “Am I that strange?”

Just as you were trying to trust in the dating app algorithm, the Gods and Cupid said, ‘let there be chaos!’ “You, specifically? A little bit.”

“Ha ha,” he drawled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah!” Jisung called from the couch. “This is girl time, Min!”

“Shut up!” Chaeryoung pulled Jisung up from the couch and they both patted your head before rushing out the door. “We’ll see you later, _____!”

“Y-You don’t have to leave!” you practically begged.

“Honey, it’s past-nine on a weekday, yes we do!”

“I didn’t realize the time,” Minho frowned, looking at his watch. “I was nearby with Hyunjin and thought I’d stop by with some fries to make up for Chaeryoung tossing them out on your birthday.”

You don’t even remember that happening. “That’s so nice of you.”

“I can come back another time.”

“No!” you said an octave too high. “No, please come in!”

Minho’s outfit was more casual than ‘DAHLIA’s typical button down and tight slacks and you deduced he was working at ‘RED LIGHT’ today. There were multiple oil and/or beer stains on his shirt and his hair was parted and pointing in different directions, evidence of his hand having to go through it several dozen times out of stress.

“You look…”

“I know,” he sighed, plopping the bag on the table. “There was a work-lunch event today that turned into dinner for some corporate slugs. Then, Hyunjin was looking at a location for his coffee excursion and asked for my help. Four hours later, I’m starving and thought of you.”

He was thinking of you a lot lately, it seemed, and it was hard to deny that you reciprocated. “This is wonderful, thank you. I owe you two dinners now.”

“You don’t ‘owe’ me anything. Friends don’t owe; they treat.”

“My treat next time, then.”

“And the next,” he reminded with a smirk. “What were you girlies doing just now?”

“Um,” you hesitated, cheeks stuffed with potato. “Making me a dating profile.”

He raised a brow in the same way when he saw you walking in with San: questioning and dissatisfied. “You never had one before?”

“I was on-and-off when I first moved here, but I couldn’t stand to open the apps after a couple days of usage.”

He does the thing with his fingers when he gestures to come close. You noticed his hands were veinier now than when you were younger.

“Let me see.”

“Let you see my dating profile?” He nodded. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, I’ll give you an opinion through the male gaze.”

“Why do you think Jisung was here?”

“Certainly not that.”

Defeated, you handed him your phone with the app open. There’s a twinkle of curiosity wondering how he’d react, but you wanted to tame that fire quickly. He scrolled and swiped, then scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled.

His face was stern when he said, “You already have a lot of admirers.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

He didn’t answer and continued to scroll. “What about that guy you work with?”

“San? What about him?”

“Nothing came of it?”

“Didn’t I tell you that would be inappropriate?”

“Is that the only reason stopping you?”

You squint your eyes at your all too curious friend who hadn’t looked up from your phone since taking it. He popped fries in his mouth rhythmically like a metronome until he caught the heat from your gaze. He looked up and did a double take.

“Hm?” he asked.

“Why are you so curious?”

“So, there’s another reason stopping you?”

“And if there is?”

“And if there is…” he repeated, fiddling with your phone charm. “Would you tell me?”

The inkling of assumption tickled annoyingly at the corners of your mind. Was he asking to let you know that he knew he was the reason for your desires? Or was he asking to tease you, to prove to you that if you had made the right decision all those years ago, you could have been in Karina’s position? That all this time you spent away from him, your journey for companionship started too late. And sure, your bank account was as filled as your stomach, but was it worth it when you had no one to share it with?

He waited patiently for your answer, but you heard his foot tapping rapidly on the wood. Your mouth opened, then closed, and you finally shook your head in shame, because your lips were cursed to speak the truth or nothing at all and you would rather deny than to admit.

He licked his lips, and that gesture alone sparked something in your core. Then he nodded in a way that expressed sourness, as if this confirmation was exactly what he expected but not what he was hoping in both the nonverbal response and the underlying tone that trailed behind it.

You broke the silence. “How’s Karina?”

“Good.” He was quick to shake his head. “Actually, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since lunch a month ago.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve… been too busy.”

Shameful and embarrassed, was what you gathered from his response. As he should; to criticize your decision only to repeat the cycle when he found fulfillment in his career was so… Hypocritical was not a strong enough word. Betrayal, perhaps, was the most correct, but that didn’t satisfy you, either.

You wouldn’t get satisfaction from any angle, though. No matter how you viewed it, it was selfish to consider yourself relevant here. Minho was hurting; everything you feared about relationships had flowered before him and crushed the idea that perfection could be achieved as long as both people tried. But it seemed that although he tried, it wasn’t enough, and maybe his ideals were more out of the ordinary than he anticipated.

“It’s put a bit of a strain on our relationship. She wants to settle down and I… I thought I did, too, but… you know, my places have been growing so much, and…”

As he trailed off and off through a list of excuses, it took you all the way back to the night that it rained. You also spat excuses from your pockets and got nowhere. Now, Minho was on your side, but it didn’t feel great, either.

“What’s more important to you?” you asked.

That was the age-old dilemma, wasn’t it? What was most important to someone as an adult who spent most of their life getting educated and preparing for the professional world to milk money from consumers; the career they adored and earned or the love they found along the way? One could argue they could live without love, but could one live with themselves if they gave up their dream? How many rom-coms have you and Minho laughed at where the world that movie was set in was in a vacuum and the couple always chose each other? Though the plot was fake, the dilemma was real, and the choices they made in the movies were just not realistic.

“Important,” he chuckled, understanding what you were getting at. “Why can’t both be important to me?”

“They can, but it’s clear your efforts are imbalanced in one direction. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation.”

The fries were long gone. Minho stood up and tossed the bag in the trash before grabbing the unfinished bottle of wine leftover from your birthday and two glasses. You supposed tonight would be the most appropriate night to finish it off. Plus, Minho needed it, apparently.

“I tried, you know,” he sighed, “I really did. I text every night; I send her flowers to her office; I cook for her, shower her with gifts, and tell her regularly that I-I…”

Minho didn’t complete his thought, but you knew what he meant to say. Why would he not, for your sake? “That you love her?”

“Yeah. That I loved her.” Your glasses raised in sync. “I get it. I’m not as present, and I get her love language is quality time, but when did the thought stop counting?”

“Have you considered you two aren’t compatible?”

“Anyone can be compatible, no? Where’s the effort?”

Now you were feeling annoyed. Were these digs subconsciously at you? “Effort can only go so far. You said her love language is quality time. You could do everything in between, but you’re not there to hold her, to kiss her, to tangle under the bed sheets as much as she wants, then guess what? She’s never going to feel the love that she wants and deserves.”

“What about me? What about what I want?”

“I don’t know what you want. Does she? Do you?”

Minho chugged the rest of the cabernet in his glass, nose wrinkling, before pouring in more with a heavy hand. You ignored how cute his nose looked. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Ok, so you can’t complain is what I’m hearing.”

A chuckle huffed through his nose, annoyed that someone who he confided in didn’t feed into his fantasy that his ideology was gospel.

“Ahh!” he groaned loudly to the ceiling. “Fucking hell. I thought this was supposed to get easier when we were older?”

“What? Love?” you scoffed. “Look at us; I’m stuck on the apps and you’re stuck in your ways. You think this gets easier just because we have more ‘life experience’?” Your air quotes were overly exaggerated. “No, dude. People are dumb at every age.”

“I’m not dumb,” he pouted.

“You’re a little dumb.”

He giggled a bit and it traveled down his belly to a full laugh. You couldn’t help but smile, too, which grew into your own fit of laughs, and the condo was filled with ugly laughs and tears of joy, pain, and all that was locked inside your’s and Minho’s souls since inception. These nights were the ones you once looked forward to.

When the giggles died down, he stared blankly at the swirling wine in the glass and asked, “Do you think we could have worked out?”

You felt your cheeks and nose flare brightly. “Worked out? Like if we tried?”

In some other tangential timeline, Minho moved to the city. Maybe he still bought out ‘RED LIGHT’, and you would visit him everyday after work and bring your coworkers in to show off your hot bartender boyfriend. Then, you’d take the train home together. You’d wind down on the couch watching a couple episodes of something light and crawl into bed in each other’s arms. Your lips would never leave his unless it was to come up for air, arms wrapped around his naked torso as he crawled on top, and mumbling praises and poems of how much you adored him.

Like an asteroid that orbits a planet, you revolve your life around him and his happiness. If you tried long distance or if you gave up your career, it would be a difficult feat, and happiness would not be found in that desert. Leaving for the city was for the best. He eventually found his oasis, and you were still on the long journey of finding yours in between the infinite dunes.

Before you realized, your nose burned some more and your vision blurred. “I think it still would have been really hard.”

“Would it have been worth it?”

“I think…” you hesitated, but the wine in your veins was overtaking, “it would only have been worth it if it was with you.”

“Then, why?” he begged. “What happened to ‘it’s better to have loved and lost’?”

“After all this time, you still can’t see what I see. I never want to risk something where I would lose you. So, I didn’t think I’d lose you if I said no.”

“This is… so stupid…”

“Don’t insult me in my home.”

“No, I… I…” he stuttered, and it’s just now you see his eyes were glossy, too. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so fucking stupid.”

It was stupid; you moved out to move on, and here he was at your door bringing you french fries and opening bars across from where you work, invading your life like a decade-old infectious disease with no ailment known to man-kind. It was stupid; he was taken, spitting out confessions of his failing love story to the one he ended, telling you he still thinks of you before he sleeps. It was very stupid, and it pained you not to fall for it.

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“______ -”

“You can’t think of me.”

He reached out across the table to take your hands. You allowed it, because you were a weak, weak woman, starving for touch and hungry for him. His skin was rough and tired from the dehydrating soaps of the service industry, but they felt so right.

“Tell me you don’t think of me,” he demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll leave.”

“What does it mean for you to leave? You will leave my home, and then what? Will you try to be better for her? You’ll stay in my life and we can be friends? Or will you leave permanently and change the dynamic of our friend group forever for the second time?” By now, the tears were falling and words choked as they came out, but your grip on him betrayed you and you held on like he was hanging off a cliff.

“I… The… The former…”

“Then, no. No, I don’t think of you. I’m not tormented by you, I’m not in ruins when I see you, I don’t smell you on my clothes, I don’t see you when I close my eyes, or in stranger’s faces when they pass, I don’t dream of you, and I definitely don’t think of you every second of everyday!”

“You can’t even convince yourself anymore. Why won’t you be vulnerable with me?”

“Vulnerability is weakness, Minho! I have been strong for so long; without you, at that!” your voice was shrill and loud and you couldn't be bothered to sit. You were up from your chair, leaning over the table, and he winced as you kept going. “You come here, turn my life upside down, and ask me to be vulnerable? To lower my guard around you? After you abandoned me all because the circumstances weren’t right at that moment? Fuck you.”

He got up from the table to get to you and towered over you, torso much wider than you remembered. He was too close, and you could feel him feel you. Your body hadn’t turned to face him, too scared to face your biggest fear, so he forced it upon you by holding your shoulders. His eyes, so big and brown that it was easy to drown in them, dug deep into yours and pleaded with everything he had in his heart.

“Fine, don’t be vulnerable, but show yourself some mercy, for fuck’s sake.”

“Mercy? I want someone I can’t have. How does that merit mercy?”

He faltered a bit and you regretted the moment you invited him in. His eyebrows furrowed in what you thought was pity. Your head dropped in shame; that was the last thing you needed. His hands moved to hold your face as if he never wanted you to drop something so precious to him ever again.

“Don’t,” you repeated.

His forehead connected with yours and suddenly, you felt young again. It’s what you needed, what you wanted, but…

“I want to kiss you.”

The rush from five years ago hit you like a truck. “I want to kiss you, too.”

Every emotion, every desire, collided into the kiss. His hands swiftly moved to your waist and pulled you in until every millimeter of you touched some part of him and soon your hands were lost in his hair. His lips were soft, and you always imagined them to feel like petals of a tulip, but he was earnest and there was some pain in the amount of pressure he pressed into you. The pain felt good, the feeling of being wanted made your heart soar, and you two exchanged gasps and moans as your lips moved fervently, hungry for indulgence after being teased with temptation. But his tongue tasted sour, and bitter, and nothing like the coffee and chocolate you once dreamed of, because this circumstance was yet again not right. He tasted like rotting fruit because stolen fruit was never sweet.

You broke away, gasping and sniffling and it was so hard to breathe. “You’re not mine,” you cried.

“But you have always been mine,” he whispered, with his breath ghosting your lips.

You shook your head, over and over until you freed yourself from his grip, wishing you’d be free of him forever. You turned your back to him, unable to show your face as you said, “I think you should leave.”

Back then, you wished he fought for you as much as he wished you to do the same. You wished he’d followed you, or waited for you until the time was right, but of course time didn’t wait for anyone. Deep down, as you broke into pieces in your dining room, you hoped he’d fight for you then, too, and proclaim that his heart belonged to only you. You were fooled twice, and as the saying goes, shame on you.

The failure of reciprocity would weigh you down just as much. You never fought for him the way you wished he would for you for the simple fact that you weren’t allowed to. He was a taken man, a man who said not too long ago how he told her he loved her every single night, and it would destroy you how he’d go home later and still say those words.

You believed everyone was worthy of love, including you. The love you wanted wasn’t supposed to feel tainted or spoiled. No matter how much you wanted him, how much he claimed he wanted you from the very start, you wouldn’t be that kind of woman who stole someone’s man, and therefore you would not confess to anything else that lay hidden away in your heart.

Minho left quietly. The battle was over, and you broke down on the floor.

Heavy and loud sobs escaped your quivering lips in a poor attempt to dissipate the pain that expanded in your chest. Your cries echoed into the open loft until you couldn’t stand the sound of your voice and wasting tissues, but your body wouldn’t let up. So, you transferred yourself to the bathroom, running a hot shower and curling up on the tile until the water ran cold. Here, your cries were muffled by the artificial rain, just as you had cried into the storm that ugly night long ago.

You called in sick the following day.

–

For the next quarter, you were happy you were swamped with work, for once. That meant waking up early, taking the train when the sun had barely risen, and leaving when it had long gone to sleep. It was the same for most people in the office and you were blessed with not having to conjure up a lie to get away from San’s advances to get you to happy hour.

In sum, you hoped it meant you’d be too busy to think of him, but when you had only a single moment, a single second of freedom, he invaded every bit of you. He was a virus, a parasite, sucking the life out of you like he was reminding you what you desired that once was within arms reach was now lost forever. Like Icarus, you fell from the ether into despair, surrounded by darkness from the absence of the sun in your only moments outside of the office. On days when you were off, you had begged your boss to let you come in, to distract you with some enrichment of any stupid task even if it meant gluing together inadvertently shredded proprietary documents for sixteen hours, but HR would catch on too quickly, was what he said.

You hoped to fall hopelessly in this troposphere of purgatory forever, operating through the days on autopilot, but your heart had sunk to your gut and it ached to land on the earth to end the pain. Just as you were getting the hang of flowing with the wind, Minho called once. Then, he called twice. On the third, you almost answered, but when your eyes welled and you struggled to breathe, you figured it was your body’s reaction to falling faster and further beneath the clouds. You spent those nights he called curled up in some corner of your home under a multitude of blankets waiting for the headache and heartache to subside, but by then the night turned to dawn and time was limited.

Chaeryoung would call, too; she’d text; she’d send you food, coffee, and chocolates, and much of it went cold because any sight of food made you nauseous. Lately, you moved so slow that sustenance wasn’t a necessity anymore, nor was it a pleasure. She was always quite the worrywart, so you tried to answer as much and as vaguely as you could, but at one point it was too exhausting to keep up the lie and you gave up, leaving her with one-worded answers that didn’t satisfy either party.

And so you continued to fall; continued to cry, rot, and falter when all you had done was taste forbidden fruit.

His birthday approached faster than you could get over him.

For a while, no one seemed to mind your absence besides Chaeryoung and Minho, who had called to see if you were attending any of the last-minute get-togethers or planned reservations in the recent month. The one big one you regretted missing was Chan’s birthday, who was rightfully miffed, but you hoped the gift you shipped would make up for it. You kept up with social media, though, and liked all the pictures that came from those nights. 

Each post, you’d look for him. You’d admire what he was wearing; you’d wonder what cologne he was wearing; you’d imagine the way his eyes lit up when Karina walked in the room. But she wasn’t in any of the photos.

You didn’t tell anyone what transpired the second time with Minho. It was too embarrassing to have fallen for him twice, which sent feminism back at least a decade. You were going to conjure up some work-related lie to get out of his birthday celebration, but Chaeryoung wouldn’t allow it and even went as far as messaging San for confirmation about your work schedule.

In a huff, she busted through to your home before you could reject her kindness. Normally, your girl was all smiles and full of expressions, but tonight she was strict and stern, which meant she was mad. Very mad.

“I need you to not message my coworkers, please,” you said as she filtered through your closet. “I don’t want a meeting with HR on Monday.”

She didn’t turn to face you when she snapped, “It felt like you were lying, so I had to double check.”

“I wasn’t lying. It was busy, but we just lightened up after the deadline yesterday.”

“So, why couldn’t you tell me that?”

“I needed an excuse to not go tonight.”

She shook her head, clearly frustrated with how insufferable you were being. She turned to you with glossy eyes and you regretted avoiding her lately. “Aren’t I your friend?”

Her having to ask really stung. “You’re my best friend.”

“Then can’t you tell me why you disappeared for three months?”

“I… it’s hard, Chaer…”

“For God’s sake, _____, you’re thirty. Act like it, and use your words!”

“I can’t,” your voice cracked, “I can’t see Minho.”

Her face softened, realizing maybe that night when she left you with someone you saw as a stranger was not what a best friend did. You watched her scan through your slumped posture and sunken eyes before she lunged and hugged you tightly. Tears burned, the feeling of gentle humanity fulfilling your highest hierarchy of needs overflowing all your emotions.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“We kissed,” you whispered back.

“And?”

“I kissed back.”

“But?”

“He’s not mine.”

She pushed you to arms length, eyes knitting sternly. “I think you should go tonight.”

“Chaer -”

“Trust me. You might regret it. It’s his thirtieth, after all.” She pushed away the hairs that cling to your forehead before running to grab some make up. “Let me do your make-up! It’ll be like your twenty-first all over again.”

She sat you down on your bed and began to dab away at the color-correcting pallet. A box of tissues lay next to her so she could catch the tears before they fell. She created a large pile in the end.

“Do you want him to be yours?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

You wanted to smell him on your clothes, adore him in your dreams, and wake up next to him. You want him to be yours, only yours, and to not have to share him with someone who he also chose. Under this sanguine circumstance, still, you smiled at this very thought, because of course the answer was, “Yes.”

And she, too smiled, her own tears forming while she dabbed yours with another fist full of tissues. “Then, go to him.”

“But -”

“_____,” she breathed sternly, sniffling a bit. “You stupid, stupid people-pleaser. Fight for yourself, for once.”

When you thought the battle was long over, little did you know you were still fighting all this time.

Despite trying not to think of him, as his birthday approached, the calendar terrorized you to get him a gift. Just in case, you know? It was a fancy Nakiri knife whose steel was decorated in waves. The Internet told you that a chef’s knife was similar to that of a samurai’s sword, so only the highest quality of Damascus steel was preferred. As you held the box in your hand at his front steps, your mind and heart kept battling with each other and debated whether or not getting a personal gift was too intimate versus a gift card to some generic restaurant to establish a boundary.

But wasn’t the boundary already too blurry, anyways?

Chaeryoung pushed you inside the already-unlocked door. All the boys and their partners and Chaeryoung’s now-official real man were already there surrounding the island. Minho, who just had a grin on, dropped it quickly upon seeing you come in and straightened his back. It’s like deja vu from your birthday.

Karina wasn't present.

Your body’s instinct was to turn and run out the door, but Chaeryoung anticipated your every move and was quick to block you. She squeezed your hand and tugged you further inside. You greeted the boys and their partners first, who all said a variation of, ‘long time, no see,’ before reaching Minho. His expression was still starstruck and confused. He didn’t appear angry. Perhaps it was a feeling worse than that, which could not be translated through his face.

With sweaty hands, you handed him the small rectangular box. “Happy birthday.”

He was hesitant to take it, as if to question the possibility of diffusion of poison through the skin. His hesitancy allowed you to get a whiff of his bourbon vanilla cologne. “Thank you.”

“Oh, so you’ll come for Minho’s birthday, but not mine?” Chan pouted.

“Some things are worth coming out for,” you retorted.

The night went on and you played your role as an onlooker in the background, hoping to blend in with the walls and remain unnoticed so as to not ruin the night. You watched him and the boys shove each other playfully and inhale any and all food Minho made. Who’s to say that thirty was old when the epitome of youth was in the souls of a group of hungry boys? Conversations and debates picked up from when they last saw each other. Some of them filled you in and others forced you to answer without knowing the majority opinion. Laughs and giggles filled the kitchen and even when it seemed that Minho didn’t want to whenever you answered, he couldn’t help himself from smiling at your ridiculous answers, though he stopped when he’d catch you watching him.

As the clock ticked forward, your anticipation for Karina to pop in at any moment dwindled. Maybe she was also having a rough quarter three and taking a late night at the office, but to miss her boyfriend’s thirtieth was… a choice, even if they were fighting or some other strange reason. But then four hours turned to six hours and then it was, ‘damn, it’s already 2:00 AM?’ and she never came.

“Are you ready to go?” Chaeryoung asked at the front door.

Minho was now alone in the kitchen and there were a lot of dishes left to wash. You should help him.

“No,” you said. “I’ll call you later.”

She had a hard time hiding her grin as she left.

You approached him slowly like how you’d approach an angry cat because he was scrubbing the dishes a little too furiously. He didn’t look up despite knowing what you were up to.

“Can I help?” you asked.

Still, he refused to look at you, but he handed you the sponge. Well, that was progress, right?

Dishes and clean up were completed in silence. No chit-chat, no music, just the sound of running water and dishes clinking in the cupboards. The task was finished in good time, and just before you decided that your stay was long overdue, he pulled another deja vu card.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled to the floor.

“It’s your thirtieth birthday. Chaeryoung told me to come.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve.”

A salty laugh - or perhaps a scoff - was uttered. He was tired, you were tired, and the air was cold and stale. The topics orbited like a satellite, coming ‘round for another turn for a different thirtieth celebration, if either of you would even call it that.

Minho let out a big sigh. “Only you can disappear for three months and come back into open arms.”

The words arranged sounded like a compliment, but it was clearly the opposite. “I don’t expect to be forgiven.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I tried calling you.”

“I know.”

“Texting. E-mailing. Fuck, even snail mailing!”

“I know…”

He threw his hands in the air, as he did whenever he was frustrated, and turned to take a breather from your nonchalance. You were supposed to be fighting for him, not letting him slip away like this, but why was this so hard when loving him came easily?

“I shouldn’t have come over that night,” he said after returning. “I was trying too hard to be friends again and I crossed a point where I couldn’t return from.”

“Isn’t that the story of our friendship?”

“Is that how you feel?”

“We were never really just friends, were we?” you teased.

“No,” he admitted softly, “we never were.”

Your eyes met for the first time that night. His were red and puffy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in three months.

You swallowed the rock in your throat. “Where’s Karina?”

“I don’t know. I broke up with her a while ago.”

Your chest felt tight and your voice bubbled out a garbled, “Why?”

And his mirrored, to the point where he had to clear his throat. “I don’t love her anymore.”

“So, is it true? Is it better to have loved and lost?”

“I wouldn’t exchange my days with her for anything.”

It didn’t make sense; it just didn’t. When someone loved that deeply, how could they throw that person away so easily?

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat. “I loved her and she loved me. It was fulfilling, and now it’s not. It’s just how it is.”

“Isn’t that painful?”

“If it means I get to feel like I’m flying, I think I can handle it.”

The concept, the idea of that, was just too hard to grasp. It took your wax wings melting to realize that the journey upwards was worth the descent.

“Enough about my failures,” he said hoarsely, “What about you? How… how are you doing?”

How were you supposed to admit that tonight was the first night you had a proper meal? That sleep only came under the influence of some generic-brand silver liquor? That you plucked a fist full of grey hairs the day before? Would admitting to vulnerability prove that you were fighting for this? For him? Or would it make you look pathetic?

“I’ve been doing fine.”

The centers of his brows scrunched together and his lips pursed. He inhaled heavily, his sniffles echoing through his quiet home.

“Are you?” he stuttered, voice distorted and desperate. “Really?”

No, of course not, and that much was clear when you started to cry.

“Because,” he continued, “if you can’t tell, I’m… dying on the inside.”

“Because of me?” you whispered, feeling the weight of your actions collapsing.

“Because of you. It’s always because of you. Everyday for the past ten years. It’s always been you.”

“Why couldn’t you forget me? Why? When you were the one to throw me away?”

“How!” he cried out. “How could I forget about you, when all I wanted was you?”

“You wanted to change me! You wanted me to abandon my career.” “I wanted you to try!”

“And you were right!” Sobs choked in your chest. “You were right. If I loved you, I should have fought for you. I should have tried harder. And I really shouldn’t have admitted those feelings to you when you were not mine. For everything that I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry.”

“You should be. You are so mean,” he hissed, pointing harshly. “You torture me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Even when I close my eyes, I see you.”

“I’m sorry -”

“I named my fucking bar after your favorite flower! And now you stand here in my home asking me to forget about you? How am I supposed to even begin doing that, hm? How, when everything around me reminds me of you?”

Your sobs were visceral and messy, and you buried your face in your hands. Maybe tears held the youth Ponce de Leon searched his whole life for the way yours could fill the fountain in minutes and how wiping them took away two decades of your life.

“I’m going to ask you once more,” he whispered. “One last time, and I’ll leave it be forever because I’m fucking tired. Do you think of me as often as I think of you?”

You caved in when all else went wrong and there was nothing else to hide. “Everyday.”

“Do you want me as much as I want you?”

“No,” you replied, “Because I need you. Now, let me ask you: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

His lips quivered before he laughed and you do, too, because that was the cringiest thing you’ve ever said. He held your face, that precious face of yours that he adored so much, dabbing away your tears. His eyes fluttered to your lips, a habit he couldn’t shake off after all these years.

“I need you to kiss me,” he demanded.

He tasted like honey and his lips fit yours like the second half of a two-piece puzzle. This was slow and deliberate, no longer going at the crushing speed of fervent passion because you had all the time in the world together now, and Minho was always the type of man to take his time. You couldn’t stand to leave his lips even for air and they ghosted his only for a few seconds before you tip-toed and pressed yourself deeper against him. Your hands were occupied with gripping his shirt at his waist to keep him in place. When you felt his smile on your lips, you grinned back and held him by his beautiful face.

“I need you to stay,” he formed on your lips.

“All I need is you,” you answered.

Even while traveling to his bedroom, both of you refused to separate as you bumped into furniture.

“We should take this slow,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Get acquainted with each other, or whatever,” you concurred after removing his belt.

“Maybe get coffee some time?” he asked into the crook of your neck.

“Or a drink? I know this really cute bar called ‘DAHLIA’.”

He threw you onto his bed. After removing his shirt, he crawled on top. “I think I’ve heard it.”

“Oh yeah?” You undid his pants zipper. “I know the bartender. A little narcissistic, though; he thinks he’s so hot.”

He trailed kisses down your lips, to your neck, to your sternum, to your stomach, until the top of your panties where his fingers hooked. “I know he is.”

You called Chaeryoung the next afternoon. At first, she scolded you for not texting her when you got home, but when she checked your location during the call, she screamed so loud that Minho dropped the spatula while making your breakfast.

The sanguine satellite would continue to orbit her world and revolve her life around his happiness; and he would continue to do the same.

[twinklychan]

I don't think I could love you more

Lee minho oneshot

Just fluff, the fluffiest fluff probably, kissing mentioned

Wc: 1.7k+

Another Night that starts with you driving to Minho's place. Tears in your eyes. You try to wipe them away Aggressively as you think about how you ended up in this situation once again. The reason for your crying is probably the worst of it all. Your love for Minho was just too strong. It seemed silly to cry over how much you love your best friend. But even more silly was the fact that you cried over how much you wanted to be his Partner. 

It wasn't only a crush anymore, you were down bad and realization hit you when you sat on your couch, watching a show with best friends falling in love. (Who would've guessed…) 

You drive as fast as you can (and as fast as you're allowed to) and when you finally arrive it feels like 3 hours passed even though it's only a 15 Minute way to his apartment. You ring the bell once…twice…thrice until the door opens and a tired looking minho appears behind the door. 

You press your lips together at the cute sight of his tousled hair and tired eyes as he rubs his face with his left hand. When his eyes fully adjust to your presence, they ever so slightly widen and he immediately puts his hands onto both of your shoulders, pulling you in his chest. 

“What happened?!” For a moment you just stand there, head buried in his chest, confused as to why he would ask such a question but then you remembered that you came here crying. You suddenly start to laugh, surprising yourself with the sudden mood switch. 

You weren't only a crying mess now but also a crying mess with a smile on your face, looking like a maniac. Minho quickly pulls away, his face holding a concerned expression as he mustered you. 

“Am I supposed to know what emotion you're displaying now or what is happening?” He asks but all you can do is stand there and laugh, your hands cupping your face before they wipe the tears that race down your cheeks. You shake your head.

“No I- I just missed you.” You mumble into your palms, and when you feel His warm hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your hands away, you want to cry again. He is an angel. He has those delicate ways of showing his love even if it's only friendship (you want it to be more though.) The way he would scan your entire face and know your emotion immediately just made everything so much more comfortable.

Your friendship was to die for and you nearly do by loving him more than he probably loved you. Your eyes well up with tears again as you start to pout to fight them away but to no avail. The next tears lined up for the race on your cheeks and before you could stop them they were running down gracefully and with so much force you weren't even fast enough to wipe them away before they dropped onto Minho's arms.

“Come inside.” He mumbled, pulling you into his apartment fully before closing the door and turning back around to face you. 

“Now what the hell is going on-” He asked and you suddenly feel bad for waking him up at midnight and stealing his chance to sleep through. Love can be selfish at times.

“I-” you didn't even get to finish the sentence before he stepped closer in one long stride and examined your body.

“what- what are you doing-” you asked, yelping as he searched for bruises of any kind. (At least it looked like it) he held up your arms, one at a time, trying to find any signs of wounds but there was nothing. Then he put his thumb and Index finger to your chin and moved that side to side.

“You're not hurt- why are you crying?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“I told you I missed you!” your voice was louder than a minute ago now. You were sick of pretending to have only platonic feelings for him. His eyes widened a bit before he put on his usual resting expression. 

"Sure." He mumbled, smirking with a knowing look on his face.

“How could you not miss me, I'm great.” He continued and you whacked his arm, your lower lip moving slightly forward into a small pout.

“Don't make fun of me, idiot!” You whined, his lips turning into a smirk and you groaned.

“You know what? Forget it, I'm leaving, you're not worthy of my missings.” and with that being said you turn on your heels, ready to walk away. But as it just stayed silent in the apartment and you neared the door you suddenly turned around.

"What? So you actually want me to leave?” You say, disappointed when you see his smile. He knows exactly what he's doing. And you hate how good he looks. He looks like a Greek god sculpted his face himself and put every face he has ever found more than pretty into one sculpture  that turned out to be Lee Minho.

With a little bit self control he wouldn’t have laughed but knowig Minho he doesn’t give one fuck about that. He breaks out into laughter as you huff and turn around, opening the door.

“Fine, then just ignore my feelings I guess.” you mumbled to yourself, nearly closing the door behind you before you heard quick footsteps.

“Wait! I was just joking, come on!” He laughs as he follows you but you just ignored him, deciding to play a game with him this time.

As soon as your foot left his apartment, you felt one hand grabbing you in your kneecaps and another one under your shoulder blades. You felt your body being lifted off the ground and suddenly you were in Minho's hands, your legs on his right arm and your back on his left arm.

“what are you doing?” You ask as he looks at you like you're the dumbest person on this planet.

“What do you mean, dummy? I'm practicing.” You look at him confused as you try to read his face but to no avail.

“For what?” You ask, confusion in your voice.

“for our wedding.” and there it was, the minho you fell in love with. The minho that made your heart beat 100 times faster than it normally does and once again, like always when he did that stuff, your heart leaped onto the floor beneath you. You were glad he was holding you in his arms, otherwise you would've probably turned into a puddle right in front of him, with how weak your knees have gotten. 

The only way you could respond was a small slap on the shoulder and your face buried in his neck as you giggled. Your cheeks burned. You hated the way you reacted to him. The way you gave in so easily with a smile and how you weren't even able to hide the excitement cursing through your body.

Minho started laughing hysterically as he mumbled something along the lines of ‘cute’ to himself. But that was probably just your delusion.

10 Minutes later and the both of you were seated on his couch, cuddled up and watching a movie. But even if you tried so hard to concentrate on the movie, you just couldn't help but spiral. How were you not supposed to fall in love with your best friend with all the stuff he did to you?

The worst was, that you couldn't even pinpoint if it was just Minho’s way of friendship or if he was actually in love with you too. At this point you didn't care anymore. It was past 2am, you're not responsible for the stuff coming out of your mouth this late and you surely weren't when you randomly blurted out-

“I love you!” Silence. 

Then a small movement from his side.

“I…love you too?” He mumbled like it was a question and you knew he didn't have the same meaning behind it as you did. 

“Good.” You mumbled, coughing to overpower the awkward silence that hung in the air. Until Minho's laughter filled up the room. You nearly snapped your neck at how fast you turned it around to look at him.

“You're cute.” He snickered, making your cheeks burn as you Huffed.

“Well maybe I don't want to be cute-” 

“Too bad you are.” You couldn't even finish your sentence before he interrupted it, making your heart beat even faster if that was even possible. 

And from then on everything happened in mere seconds. 

His face inches away from yours, his lips moving to ask for permission, you nodding your head and finally his lips on yours. They moved in perfect sync as if they were meant to be put together. Like a puzzle. And as he pulled away and looked into your eyes with so much love and adoration you knew it was the end of you. 

You blinked once, twice,...thrice and then you grabbed the pillow beside you, burying your face in it as you squeaked. You never liked this cheesy stuff in movies or shows but somehow you weren't any better than the characters there. 

You had no intention of moving away from that pillow any time soon as you know your face must be looking like a tomato.

The only thing you felt were his arms that moved you into his embrace.

“Give me a moment.” You mumbled and Minho just laughed, adoring your honesty.

You finally pulled away from the pillow and were met with the admiring eyes and adoring smile of Minho’s. You bit your lip smiling to yourself as Minho looked at you.

“I love you…have been loving you for a while actually.” He admitted. You giggled, pecking his lips before pulling away.

“I love you too.” You mumbled.

“Can't believe you had to confess at 2am and wake me up for it though-” He teased as you hit his right arm.

“Ow- okay I'm sorry-” He apologized.

“You better be.” You glared, pecking his lips once again, and then his nose and his forehead.

“I love you.” You mumbled.

“I love you too.”

[thehereticdiaries]

Protective Instincts

Right so there’s one flavor of fanfic that i really love where bsf!idol gets super possessive over yn due to some dude bein a creep (specifically 09:12 and Claimed by atinyslittleworld and an ask answered by taegimood)

Something about it sets my brain off in the best way and now i wanna do it. Yes im working on my other series it’s just slow progress bc i have, like, no time to write more than a page rn and also my brain is fried

Also it’s not like the other members wouldn’t help in this kind of situation, but in my little fanfic world I think the members listed below would be protective and possessive in a way that would have you questioning if they see you as something more than a best friend. Ykwim?

Stray Kids: ✧ Bang Chan ✧ Lee Minho ✧ Seo Changbin ✧ Kim Seungmin ✧ Yang Jeongin

Ateez: ✧ literally everyone dont look at me

TXT: ✧ Choi Soobin ✧ Choi Yeonjun ✧ Kang Taehyun

Xdinary Heroes: ✧ Goo Gunil ✧ O.de (Oh Seungmin)

Enhypen: ✧ Lee Heeseung ✧ Jay Park ✧ Park Sunghoon

I’ll link them as I post them so everything looks nice lmao. It’ll probably be one post per group cus I’m not planning to make these very long

[ikleeknow]

₊˚ෆ 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔.

—— eight days leading up to Christmas with Straykids.

info : fem!reader, seperate one-shots, fluff, best friend to lovers au, established relationship au, enemies to lovers au, friends to lovers au, strangers to lovers au, mature language, Christmas related, non idol au

note : heyyy!! it’s been so long ik ik I’ve been so lazy recently but I decided to be productive, hopefully it lasts! These might be posted during November to December ( mostly November ) as I will be busy most of December!, anyways please enjoy ❤️

𝑮𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒔. - (bangchan)

— best friends to lovers au, fem!reader, lots of fluff!

summary: when you come over to your best friends house to simply make gingerbread houses it somehow ends in you confessing but what will happen when he finds out?

published: 17th of November

𝒐𝒉.. 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒆 - ( lee know)

— friends to lovers au, fem!reader, fluff,

summary: you get invited to a Christmas party and at first you weren’t planning on going but when you realise your crush, lee know, is going why not you go too? published : tba

𝑹𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆. - ( changbin )

— established relationship au, fem!reader, lots of fluff!

summary: you love decorating your tree and listening to Christmas music but what makes it even better is your boyfriends with you!

published : tba

𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒔𝒚. - ( hyunjin)

— enemies to lovers, fem!reader, at first Hyunjin is rude and cold but slowly gets softer, fluf

summary: your friends all plan to go ice skating but when you get there you can only see hyunjin, oh and did I tell you? they locked you in the rank too

𝑯𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒕𝒔. - ( han jisung )

— best friend to lovers, fem!reader, fluff FLUFF

summary: when Jisung comes over to your apartment for your yearly Christmas movie marathon

𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈. - ( lee felix )

— established relationship au, fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!

summary: there’s nothing better than spending Christmas Eve with your boyfriend and cooking Christmas cookies with him

𝒅𝒐 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖?. - (seungmin)

— stranger to lovers, fem!reader, fluff, the other boys make an appearance

summary: you love to go tree shopping and focus on always getting the best tree but when all your focus is taken away from a cute boy with his friends the trees don’t seem as important anymore

𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆. - (Jeongin)

— friends to lovers, fem!reader, fluff

summary: when it starts snowing outside you drag Jeongin outside to build snowman but why is it so cold outside?

authors note : I hope you guys enjoy this series! and hopefully it doesn’t take to long to get out 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[booksndpoetry]

The Gratitude Series

A Lee Minho Fanfic

Prequel to "A Modern Love Story"

WC : 2.8k words

Pairing : Lee Minho X Fem reader

Genre : Fluff

Triggers/Warnings : Repetitions of two particular words and mentions of brownies; read at your own risk of temptation

A/N : This was inspired by my own conversations with my friends when they told me to stop thanking them. I hope each of you who reads this, gets someone who'll thank you from the bottom of their heart.

m.list

“Some days I adore you a little more than a human being can adore” – Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

To Lee Minho, you were an enigma of sorts. You were like a ball of yarn, threaded with your secrets. And he was the cat, ever curious. Each thread that unravelled, satiated his curiosity, until he wanted more. Until he knew it was never going to be enough. It was more of a depraved hunger than anything, but you didn’t have to know that. 

i. 

Minho had always considered his part-time job as a barista at the local café just as a way to spend his time wisely and earn some money. He did not expect the best people to be the customers, nor did he think the café was particularly interesting. It just…..was.

But that was his opinion before you came into the café. 

The first time he’d seen you, you had ordered a milkshake and sat down at one of the tables, book in hand, the nearly empty café a reflection of your quiet, poised state.

When he’d come to serve your milkshake, you’d stopped reading your book, the original volume of Howl’s Moving Castle he’d observed, as he approached you.

You read his name off his name tag, gifted him, a complete stranger back then, a dazzling smile and said “Thank you.” with the calmest voice he’d ever heard. 

He had been surprised. Not because you’d thanked him, more so because you stopped what you were doing just to acknowledge him and thank him, face to face. 

He hadn’t known what to do. Receiving thanks or compliments had always been awkward for him.

 And so he gave away his embarrassment with the tips of his ears glowing red, muttering something incoherent in reply, and your smile had become a little bit wider. 

Just a little bit, but he’d noticed it. 

That is how he remembers his first encounter with you, with him completely flustered by you and your bright smile. 

ii. 

After you had left the café that day, he had come in extra early to work every day, in hopes of catching you if you were an early riser. But to no avail. 

After two days, he thought himself stupid. He barely knew you. And you would’ve probably forgotten his name, he reasoned with himself. 

Still, his nights were filled with thoughts of you. He thought long and hard about you. 

Did you thank everyone that way? Or was it just him you thanked that way?

He had hoped, foolish as it was, that it was the latter. 

Had you found him attractive and hence given him your attention?

The question wasn’t entirely baseless. Lots of people frequented the café just to flirt with him. But he knew that it wasn’t the case, he would have remembered you if you’d come there before.

Would you come back again? Would he see you again? 

And so, he’d tossed and turned. He couldn’t get his mind off you.  

The two days turned into four weeks and the study group he was in at University, had set up a meeting at the music club. 

When he’d asked Chan, the person who had organized everything, why they hadn’t set up the meeting in the University’s large library, the latter had unashamedly said that the library wouldn’t allow food in and hence the spot was selected. 

Even on the walk to the meeting, Minho rolls his eyes. 

The library would have been much quieter. With no rules to maintain silence, he had no idea how to protect his ears from his group of extremely loud friends.  

He arrives minutes before the meeting. The tiny room was packed and he was already assessing the number of decibels emitted from the inside. 

Taking a breath, he pushes the door open and walks inside. The entire study group had assembled for the first time, and there were a lot more people than he’d expected. 

As soon as he sits down, Chan who had been chatting with someone next to him, turns and greets Minho. Minho nods in acknowledgement, looking away and that’s when he sees you for the second time. 

You sit in a corner of the room, nose deep in a book, just like the first time he’d met you.

Today, you’re decked up in a long winter coat, and a lemon-coloured scarf wrapped around your neck.

Just like the first time, you’re smiling as you read your book.

Just like the first time, you manage to take his breath away.

And just like the first time, he doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to do. 

Despite that, he knows that he might not have a chance to see you again and thus, musters up all his courage and approaches you, which is exactly when Felix decides to announce that he brought brownies for everyone. Minho has to clamp his mouth shut to stop a groan from escaping him. 

Great, he thinks, now he would never ever have a chance with you again and he would die an old cat gentleman.

Even in his head, he thinks it sounds ridiculous. He reminds himself not to hang out too much around Hyunjin. The dramatics were rubbing off on him. 

Shaking his head, he goes back to retake his seat when he notices Felix distributing scrumptious looking brownies (that he knew were delectable) to the large group of people, by himself.

He also notices another box, and maybe it is because he’s gotten so used to serving people, he takes the box up and starts distributing brownies to the other table.

Felix offers him a cheery thanks and Minho just waves him off. 

When he gets to your table, Minho holds his breath. He expects you to have forgotten him, but you lift your head and say,

 “Hey, Minho right? We meet again.” 

and all the practice he’s given himself goes down the drain. Clearing his throat, he pretends he isn’t affected by the fact that you remember his name, and extends a brownie towards you. You look at his outstretched hand and take the brownie, and just as he’d predicted, you look up at him, still smiling, and gift him a:

“Thank you.”

 He’s just as bothered, with the base of his neck going red at the words. However, in a burst of courage, he’s taking a chance with you just to lengthen the conversation. 

“I’m not the one who made them, Felix did.”, he informs you and you tilt your head slightly. 

“I know, I’ll thank him later.”, you reply, “I’m thanking you now.” 

“Why?” he asks. He doesn’t know, why you did it. He wanted to know. 

“Because”, you say, your words slow and deliberate, like you had all the time in the world,

“you could have let him distribute them to everyone, all the thirty five students, all by himself. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. But you chose to help him and give some of us a brownie, when you could’ve eaten yours first. So, thank you.” 

He’s stunned. Both by the sincerity of your words and the honesty you delivered them with. 

For a moment he stands there, absorbing your words. Before he can respond, one of them asks if they can have one more cupcake and he gets to his senses. You smile and wave him off. 

The second time too, he thinks, was just as delightful as the first. 

Maybe Chan chose the right spot after all. 

iii. 

Slowly, Minho eases his way into your life until you’re both latched together, like two sides of the same coin. He makes you milkshakes even when he’s not in the café and you smile and thank him for it, every time. 

He’s grown used to your words of gratitude, but he knows that you don’t throw the words around lightly. So, he makes space in his heart for all your thank yous, and slowly learns how to respond to them too. 

He wonders whether it is because you two aren’t close yet, that perhaps you feel the need to thank him for every little thing. He shrugs it off, feeling like you might stop your adorable habit once you fully get to know him. 

But mostly, he wants you to stop looking at him and smiling at him like he’s the candle burning on your desk at dusk, the only source of light when you need it. Because, he feels like it might never be enough when he falls for you. 

It was so easy to fall in love with you, your entire existence a balm to his soul effortlessly. 

He thinks about it then, when he jogs to get you your water bottle from your bag, placed at the very end of the basketball court you were running in to get your daily laps in. 

Just as he’d predicted, you tell him: 

“Thank you.” 

His chest feels too tight, like he’s been running for an hour, when he’s only been jogging for twenty minutes. 

He wants you to stop. 

He wants you to tell him those words for the rest of his life. 

Minho feels like collapsing in the middle of the basketball court, to hit his head hard enough. Just so he can stop this heady feeling from consuming him whole. 

iv. 

Minho feels himself flying in love with you. Why? Because he sees you are already in love with him too. 

It’s unmistakable in the way your eyes search for him whenever he comes into a room.

It’s in how you always try to say yes to all his plans even though he tells you it’s okay if you feel otherwise.

It’s in the way you smile at him, something only for him to see.

But mostly, he knows it because of your eyes. Your eyes light up at his arrival, and they are transparent pools of your love for him, as clear as daylight.

And that, he learns, makes all the difference. 

v. 

Before you, Minho had a hard time trusting words. 

Why?

Because they were grand and promising at first, but empty if they weren’t followed by true actions. 

Most of the people early in his life only talked and talked, empty words with thoughts of what could’ve been, except they never were. 

But with you, Minho knew they were true to their meaning.

 He’d seen you bear the weight of them when you stayed behind for two hours in class to help a failing classmate.

He’d seen you fulfil them when you stayed up for hours writing something for the highest grade you had ever gotten, even if it was for extra credit.

He sees you stay true to them when you call your mom every single day like you’d promised, and when you call him without fail each time you go to the department store to ask him if he wants something. 

All he sees is you. 

You were an exception to his every agenda, every single time. 

He has no complaints. 

vi. 

One week before the finals, you're holed up in your room, ignoring all his calls, and Minho knows what's up. 

Your Psychology exams are what’s up. 

He drops by to your place and lets himself in, shoes placed in your shoe stand, just the way you do it. Going in, he gives a shout to let you know of his arrival. You holler something back & he takes it that you know.

Wandering to the kitchen, he spots a fruit bowl. Thinking that you could use a snack after all the studying you've done, he takes a few oranges from it and heads to your room. 

The sight of you hunched over your desk, buried in your books, your glasses barely hanging off your nose is what greets him.

 For a moment, all of it ceases to exist except him and his thoughts and you.

 He'd read all about the pinings of writers and poets who'd sworn that their lovers and muses were capable of taking their breath away at any time, even when they might look unflattering to the rest of the world.

 Minho had disagreed. One had to look unpresentable when they were buried in work and gave no thought about maintaining their appearance, right? 

 Wrong.

 He's rendered wrong. 

So, so, wrong. 

Because the sight of you then, bare-faced and bespectacled, puckered lips and furrowed eyebrows elicits an emotion he doesn't know how to name.

It's strong, this little feeling and every time you purse your lips or scrunch your nose, it grows stronger. He doesn't know what to do with the stubborn feeling, but he knows it's there to stay.

You were so engrossed in your reading that it took you a good three minutes to find out Minho was in the room.

After you do though, you abandon your textbook on the study desk and turn your attention to Minho. 

“Oh hey. Need something?” 

He chuckles, running a hand through his silky, wine-red strands as he takes you in fully, eyes subtle but greedy in their perusal of you.

 “I should be the one asking you that, you being buried in work and all.”

He gestures to your growing pile of papers, notes, and books. 

You let a whine in response.

“Don’t remind me of that. I’m taking a break. Seriously, I don’t get why I need to know the names of all the medical records used in the world. How am I supposed to treat other people, when I myself am slowly going insane?” 

You punctuate your rambling by sinking further into your chair until it shakes. 

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. But he does know how to make you feel better, that’s one thing he prides himself in. 

Coming to stand in front of you, he slowly reveals the arm behind his back and flourishes the oranges he’s fetched, like a magician exhibiting a miracle. 

You’re a magician of your own, giving away one of your dizzying smiles that he can see in his head for days on end. 

He slowly sits down on the floor, and starts peeling an orange. You join him and reach for one, but he swats your hand away. You frown, but abandon all thoughts of oranges when you remember your assignment, still very much unfinished. 

You abruptly get up, startling Minho out of his trance. He flinches before glaring at you. You cheekily smile down at him. 

“Sorry Min, I have to get this done before nightfall.” 

“Okay.” He says, even as gets up to shove a piece of fruit in your mouth. 

“Mo, yw don undastan-“ 

“Don’t talk while you’re eating.”

You glare at him, but do as he says.  

Even in your disgruntled state, you manage a quiet “Thank you.” 

You know how Minho left the comfort of his home just to come to cheer you up, even when he’s a homebody. And you’re grateful for it; you would’ve holed up in your room until you disintegrated into bits otherwise. 

He just shakes his head. 

Silence prevails in the room for a while, unless interrupted by the clicks of the keyboard and the quiet chewing as he feeds you slices. 

“You don’t have to say thank you to me all the time, y’know?” Minho begins, leaning beside you on your mahogany desk. 

You absently hum and finish typing the sentence. Only then do you fully process his words. 

“Huh?”

“We’re friends now, or at least I think we are. So, you don’t have to thank me for every little thing. It feels like you’re being formal with me.” 

This is the longest you’ve spoken with me, and it’s because of my thank yous. Isn’t that reason enough for me to tell you those words every time? 

The words are at the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. They weren’t for now, this moment. 

You just exhale and give his head a ruffle. He dodges it, and glares at you, reminding you of his cats.

Your mouth curves upwards. 

“What are the words ‘Thank you’ for then?

I don’t think they exist just for a half-hearted appreciation for someone I barely know.

I think they exist so I can try and convey my gratitude to the people close to me. I won’t ever be able to fully convey the feelings in words, but I can try.

So think of each of my thank yous as a two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.

Is that better?” 

You duck your head down, shy after your sudden outburst of emotion.

I won’t ever be able to convey my gratitude fully, but I can try. 

A two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life. 

Good god, he believes you’re an angel at that instant.

You were ethereal in every way, whether that be the way you talked, the way you walked or the way you looked at him with thoughtful eyes, like he was the star in each one of your universes.

No ordinary person could be like that, could they?

He’s at a loss for words, like usual. And that doesn’t surprise you. He was a man of a few words anyway. 

Stealing an orange slice, you get back to work. 

This time, Minho thinks, even the word ‘delightful’ doesn’t cover it. He’s sure that no word can encompass even a sliver of your essence, except maybe the words ‘Thank you’. 

And he hopes that now you’ll let him tell you that every single day. 

© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration to character. They do not reflect the real people in any way.

[wolfs-archive]

"Ask yourself, why you're ass was down right there?"

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N harboured her feelings for a long time and tried to loose them when she saw Lee Know in a relationship. Lee Know on the other hand realizes his love for Y/N. Will Y/N accept this love?

Pairing: ChildhoodFriendLeeKnow X ChildhoodFriendY/N

Genre: ChildhoodFriends X Lovers; mentions of sex, making out, suggestive Lee Know, drunk confessions.

Note: The Lee Know or the other members mentioned here are no where related to the idol Stray Kids and are just a fictional character. Minors DNI please!!!

You and Lino have always been friends since childhood, to the fact that your both parents had promised to marry you off to each other. It would be a sin to lie if you said you didn't like that idea, but Lino who never knew anything about this had other plans. The fact that you both were there for each other during your tough times and happy times, just made people think that you were a couple. When both of you ended up, choosing the same university, you both had to live abroad. Your parents who saw their dreams distant, decide to act as a cupid for the two of you. They both suggested you take a room and share it since you both were comfortable with each other, and you would take care of each other when need.

So a few semesters later, Lino got a girlfriend Minji, he often bought her to your dorms, and those nights were just sleepless, tearful nights for you when they enjoyed in the next room. When this happened for a few times, you decided to take matters in your hands. It would be bad to loose a friend as Lino, so what's one thing you can do? Hide your feelings for him. Minji was comfortable enough with seeing you as his roommate, because she trusted Lino and hence you two had a good relationship with each other. Few months into the relationship, Lino felt something was really wrong. When Minji asked what to have for lunch, he would be reminded of your favourite burrito from Chipotle, when you two decided to go to Graeter's to buy an ice cream, he would be reminded of your fav Oregon Strawberry. When they both went to get cloths, he would go in search of 'M' sized because that was yours and not Minji's. Minji who noticed these slight changes, asked what Lino was upto, when he said that, he wanted some time to decide on what was going on with him. "You are in love with her, Lino" said Minji. Lino's ears turned red and words stumbled "N- No" he said with hesitation. "You can deceive yourself, but not your heart. The way she speaks to me about you says so too. I guess you guys are an absolute match. I guess, I don't have anymore business here" she said. "I really feel guilty deep down inside, Minji, but thanks for being a nice person and not a toxic one. I really hope you get someone who loves you the same way you love anyone." he said as he decided to go home.

"Y/N... Where are you going all dolled up?" Lino asked you when he met you in the hall of your shared apartment all dressed up, you looked stunning in his eyes and he realised he has really fallen for you. "I'm out for a date. You can have dinner, I'll eat outside, don't wait for me" you replied. The words pierced his heart and he literally felt how you would have felt when he brought Minji home. He waited for your arrival, but he couldn't take off the feeling from his heart. He decided to gulp a glass of wine while he waited for your arrival. Slowly one turned to 5 and in no time he was drunk. When you came home, you were scared to see him on the chair. You mistook him to be unconscious but when you saw the wine glass, you realised what had happened. You lifted him up to take him to his room, when he saw you, "Hey Y/N, How was your date? To be honest. I broke up with Minji" he said which made you stare at him. As your eyes met, he continued, "The reason why? I'm in love with someone else. That someone is Y/N, Y/L/N" he said as you dropped him, with a loud thud he fell to the ground. Realising what you did, you kneeled down to help him up, when he pulled you in for a deep kiss. You who had always wanted to feel his lips, fell into this trap and when you realised what had happened, you pushed him, leaving to the ground and running to you room. The entire night, you didn't know what to do and tossed and turned around on the bed.

"Y/N, why the hell am I even on the floor of the hallway and not in my bedroom?" Lino asked as he barged into the kitchen where you were cooking for you both the next morning. "Ask yourself, why your ass was down right there? I helped you, but y--you--- try to rewind on what you did and what you said. What grown up man, gets drunk to the fact that he can't even handle himself and sleeps the entire night on the floor of the hallway?" you asked. "Btw how was your date? Did you like him? Did you say ok to him?" he asked. "Ayoo, stop bombarding me with questions. I'm going to my room, if you want anything else come here in."

"Oh shit" he cursed as memories flooded on what happened the previous night vaguely. He came to your room and sat beside you. "I'm sorry Y/N, I just now remember, what I did yesterday. I just didn't mean to. So I'm asking you do you love me? I love you!!" he confessed. Tears dropped from your eyes, "Lee Know, Weren't you Minji's boyfriend just yesterday? I-- I still want some time. Please gimme some time. I need some space." you replied. "The moment he confessed to you, the wild thoughts which you had suppressed started to flow through. You wanted to do unholy stuffs to him, kiss him, have sex with him, get drunk with him and flirt with him, feel him on you, feel every inch of him. But in a corner of your heart, you didn't want to get hurt again.

Who knew Lee Know was shameless, the moment you said, you would think about it. From then onwards he started to go around the house shirtless, when he saw you ogling at his, he would flash that hereditary Lee smirk and would make you fluster. He would press you against you when you were drying out the cloths in the name of helping you. He would come to the restroom when he heard you taking bath in the name of asking what you wanted to have for lunch. One day, he would walk out of the bathroom with his towel wrapped around his torso, with water dripping from his hair, the next day, he would come sneak into the bedsheets. When you ask him the reason, he says that his heater's out of service. Another day, he would push the ladder you were standing on to take out provisions from the top cabin and catch you by placing his hands in your hips. You who had your feelings grow day by day, decided to stop this Tom and Jerry game once for all. One day to put things to an end, you decide to call Lino to bring a towel to you when in fact you had one while you went to bath, you used it to cover yourself. Immediately, when he gave you the towel, you grabbed him by your hand, pushed him by the wall and asked him, "You've been so bratty these days, what's with you? Didn't I say I needed some time? Then why the hell are you even teasing me. Do you know the way it arouses me, and the way it crushes my pride?" you said clenching your teeth. Realising the effect it had on you and the way his plan was on for a success, he gave you a smirk and said, "Then let it out let's not waste anymore time. Promote me as you boyfriend" he said as he pushed the strand of hair behind your ear . "I love you Lee Know" you whispered into his ears as you pulled his collar in for a kiss, slowly as you melted in his touch, with the shower soaking you both, you couldn't resist the attraction he exuded. He caressed you and in no time the towel which was covering you now was on the floor, then he pulled out to remove his clothes and in not time you were on your bed making love.

[skzhocomments]

A Chance of Fate (Lee Know) - Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

---

Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Chapter word count: 4.4k words

It was cold.

The winter wind hit your cheeks mercilessly, bringing a chill down your spine and making you shiver.

Why me?  You thought, tears stinging the corners of your eyes but not daring to fall yet. Crying made you tired, and you were already tired enough. Your feet were swollen from the walking, your arms sore from carrying the small bag with the few items you managed to take with you, and your back hurt from the weight of your ever-growing belly.

7 months.

That’s how long you’ve been pregnant for.

You were one of the unlucky ones who didn’t see pregnancy as this wonderful miracle the media made it out to be. For you, it was the most horrible thing you could’ve gone through. 

The first three months, you’ve been sick and felt the need to throw up each time you smelled anything. Anything. The next 3 months, you’ve felt so tired, you could barely get out of bed. Another nail in the coffin of your relationship. It also didn’t help that your partner has been borderline abusive ever since you told him about the baby – which was the very reason you’ve left at this late hour basically penniless.

And now, the cravings. Damn, these fucking cravings – what made you stop in front of a small restaurant called “Know your Cats”.

What a strange name, you thought and chuckled a bit.

From outside, “Know your Cats” looked like a cosy place. There didn’t seem to be too many people in, probably because of the late hour, but whatever they ordered smelled amazing. You wanted to eat it so badly. So, you went in and sat down at one of the tables in the corner of the small restaurant, as far away as possible from other people. You didn’t dare to take off your winter coat yet, but inside was warm. So warm, it almost warmed up your heart too.

Soon enough, a young waiter approached you.

“Good evening, ma’am, what can I get for you? Considering that I haven’t seen you here before, it must be the first time you come to our restaurant. So, maybe I could bring you something to drink while you consult the menu. Maybe some water?” he spoke quickly in a friendly tone and pulled out a pen and a small notebook.

Watching him talk so fast was pretty funny to you, you thought his chubby cheeks looked amusing when so many words per second would get out of his mouth.

“Uhm… sorry, but…” you didn’t dare raise your head, aware of the light bulb towering above you. After all, you’ve chosen to leave home at such a late hour for two reasons:

1. Your partner was away God knows where.

2. The dark bruises all over you. Ah, and your busted lip, the accessory that completed your look. The cherry on top.

However, the boy didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it.

“… I was wondering what the people over there are having… it smells really good.”

“Oh, thank you! That’s our dear owner’s speciality! A secret recipe, if you will!”

The boy’s excitement brought a smile to your lips.

“It’s really just a fancy pork ragu.” He whispered, winking.

“Could I please know how much a serving costs?” you spoke quietly, counting in your head how much money you had in your pocket.

$7. Yes, that’s all your dear partner left for you to get some food when he left “on a business trip” 5 days ago. You knew that this was just code for cheating, and you cursed yourself yet again for not keeping your job 5 months ago when your pregnancy symptoms started getting worse. If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have endured his abuse for so long.

God, how could you have been so stupid? You weren’t even married, yet you let yourself become completely dependent on him as soon as the pregnancy test came out positive. You let him drag you down, comment on your weight, physically and financially abuse you, yet you stayed for so long. The thought of homelessness weighed heavier than everything else you’ve experienced living with him, until it didn’t.

“That’s $15. Would you also like something to drink with it? I heard orange juice is one of the best drinks to have while pregnant, and the owner makes a delicious one!”

$15. But you only had $7.

He scribbled something in the notepad and kept talking, but you didn’t even hear anything else he said. You just felt your eyes swell up with tears again, your vision getting blurry.

You were so hungry.

You started petting your belly and thought of the small child growing inside of you. There were no words to describe how terrible you felt for putting your future child through this. If you were alone, you wouldn’t mind going hungry, but knowing that you were hurting someone else as well – someone you loved so much already – was killing you.

“I… I can’t afford that…” you smiled bitterly, your voice so quiet, barely audible. “Maybe… there’s something on your menu that’s $7 or less?”

“I don’t think…” the young waiter rubbed his nape apologetically.

“That’s- that’s okay, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” You tightened the coat around your frame and prepared yourself mentally to get up and face the cold again.

Where were you going to go?

You didn’t want to think about it. But oh, you should’ve. You should’ve thought about it long ago and made a viable escape plan. Instead, you left with a small bag, $7 in your pockets and an almost empty phone. You also threw out your keys in one of the trash cans around the building you lived in with your partner, just to make sure you wouldn’t return.

“You know what, please wait a second. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” The young waiter said quickly and turned his back at you, hurrying towards the counter.

Like you had anywhere you could go.

~

“Hey, everything good? What’s got you running like that?” Minho started, amused by Han’s speed so late in the evening.

“Hyung, what should we do?”

Minho raised an eyebrow.

“There’s this woman – I don’t have all the details, obviously, but she looks… she has bruises all over. And she’s pregnant. And she only has $7 and-”

“Hey, slow down a bit, will you?”

“What I’m saying is” – he inhaled loudly – “let’s give her some food on the house. What do you think?”

“And why would we do that?” Minho raised an eyebrow.

“Hyung, don’t be so cold. Let’s help her! Please???”

“Why should we? We don’t owe anyone anything. Who comes to a restaurant with no money anyway?” Minho cursed out.

“You know what? Just go over there and see for yourself, if you don’t want to give her anything on the house, then I’ll pay for her meal myself! Greedy bastard.” Han replied in an annoyed tone.

“Yah, it’s not like business’ been going so well lately, asshole!” Minho rolled his eyes and cursed him out.

However, he wasn’t actually as indifferent as he wanted to seem – and he couldn’t ignore what Han said either. Maybe that’s what made him so special in his friend’s eyes. So, Minho went and grabbed a glass of some freshly squeezed orange juice.

Han said she was pregnant, maybe she has morning sickness? He thought, so he poured out some ginger tea as well. That helped Chan’s wife – one of his closest friends – when she was pregnant. It should help you too, right?

With a glass of juice in his right hand and a cup of tea in his left, he made his way over the bar to the only occupied corner in the room. The loud table in the middle of the restaurant motioned for him to come and requested the check, but Han was right behind Minho, so he took care of them in an instant, seeing them out and locking the door behind them, making sure to turn the “Closed” sign around.

~

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of two glass objects hitting the table.

You raised your head and noticed a glass filled with what you assumed to be orange juice, and a cup with a lid on top, but before you could investigate what was in it, the fresh smell hit your nostrils, bringing a smile on your face.

Ginger tea, your favourite.

A good-looking man took the seat in front of you. He was very beautiful. It was like his face was painted by a skilled artist – his mouth, nose and eyelashes looked perfect, and his skin was flawless, almost making you jealous.

Boys always have the best eyelashes. You thought, glossing over his features once more.

You quickly noticed that what you liked the most about him were his eyes. A deep shade of brown orbs that glistened like stars under the restaurant’s light. And they were looking right at you, observing your every move and mannerism. Catching a glimpse of your own reflection in his eyes made you unwittingly frown.

You noticed quickly what he was wearing: a casual shirt and jeans and an apron. Is he the chef? You questioned, but before you could say anything, the man introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m Minho, the owner of the restaurant. Please.” He said, a kind smile forming in the corners of his mouth, while pointing at the drinks he brought.

“Hello, Minho. Thank you.” You smiled back and took a small sip of the orange juice. “This tastes nice. I’m Dal-Rae, by the way.”

Dal-Rae… Minho analysed your name in his head for a few seconds, thinking about how pretty it sounds. And looking at you, it seemed fitting, somehow.

Even with how tired your figure was, Minho could still be able to see behind the fatigue and notice your beautiful features.

“Nice to meet you, Dal-Rae, and welcome to Know your Cats.” He gestured proudly to the restaurant, making you chuckle.

“That’s a very funny name. What’s the inspiration behind it?”

“Well, that would be my three cats.”

“Oh my God, you have three cats?! That’s amazing!” You exclaimed, excited by the new information.

“You think so? Do you like cats?” He asked, his eyes sparkling.

“I love them! I always wanted one but…” but you never considered yourself responsible enough to take care of yourself, let alone of another living, breathing being. Or at least that’s what your partner made you believe about yourself the whole time you lived with him.

“You will never be a good mother” he would tell you. “You wouldn’t even be able to take care of a hamster, let alone a cat. And now you’re pregnant?! How will someone as horrible as you take care of a baby?! Don’t make me laugh!”

And you always believed him. After all, he knew you so well. Right?

“So, why did you keep it? Are you that self-centred? Did you really have to do this so I’ll never leave you?” he would scream at you, forgetting that it took two to tango. Forgetting that he was the one that took off the condom without your knowledge and permission so many months ago.

“You wanna see some pics?” Minho smiled genuinely and took out his phone, shifting your focus back at him. He seemed very hopeful that you would say yes, for some reason.

“I’d love to!” You replied honestly. You truly loved cats. They were adorable balls of fur, and you would cuddle with them all day if given the chance.

“That’s great! Okay, but before that… Jisung? Please bring out some servings of the special recipe for us, will you?” he spoke, and then opened his gallery and started showing you cute pictures of his three cats.

You learnt that their names were Soonie, Doongie and Dori and you pretty much remembered which was which from the first picture he showed you, something that truly surprised Minho. Not even Han knew all their names, and even if he would somehow remember them, he would mix up Doongie and Soonie. But for real now, was it so difficult to remember that Soonie had stripes and Doongie had a white belly? Come on!

“By the way, you can make yourself comfortable and take off your jacket. You must be hot with so many layers on you.” He got up and helped you with your winter coat, placing it neatly on a chair next to you.

“Oh, thank you…”

Jisung brought the food soon after you and Minho made some more small talk. He brought three servings with him and placed a plate in front of you, one in front of Minho and one in front of an empty seat, which he was quick to take.

Both Han and Minho started eating, but you felt a bit… weird. Out of place.

“Anything wrong?” Minho asked concerned, noticing that you didn’t even put your hand on the spoon.

“I… I really can’t… pay for this, unless… you accept $7?” You asked unsure and grabbed the crumbled notes from your coat pockets. You tried straightening out the notes as well as you could, but when you handed it to Minho, you noticed he looked at you with a big frown on his face, his eyes immediately softening.

He put his hands on the one hand you gave him that was still holding the money, and made you close it into a fist. It was his way of telling you that you should keep it.

“Don’t worry about it, you already paid when you listened to this weirdo talk about his cats for 15 minutes straight.” Han replied and patted your shoulder, as if he was comforting you for enduring so much.

“Yah, loudmouth, shut it!” Minho retorted. “And you better start eating while it’s still hot.” He took the spoon in front of you off the table and looked at you expectantly, as you hesitantly put the money back in your coat. When you were done, he placed the spoon in your right hand, gesturing to the food. “Come on, eat. Or do I have to feed you myself?” He kept looking at you, coercing you into trying a bite.

And damn, were you right! It not only smelled amazing, but it tasted heavenly.

“Fuck me, this is so good!” You said with no filter, forgetting for a moment that the men in front of you were, in fact, not your friends.

But eating with them did feel like getting food with a friend. Maybe that’s why you relaxed so much and spoke your mind freely, for what felt like the first time in years. You were not allowed to curse when you lived with your ex. It would start a raging fit from him, because “What kind of woman has such a rotten mouth?”, and you would regret opening your mouth and saying anything.

“Oops, excuse me!” you said, covering your mouth with your hands.

The two men, however, seemed to not mind your lack of manners, and started cheering when you told them that you loved the food.

~

“Thank you so much for this.” You said to Minho, both of you looking at how Han cleaned up the now empty table in the middle of the room. “Truly.”

“No worries.” Minho replied nonchalantly, his eyes darting away from you. Despite his indifferent tone, his mannerisms indicated that he’s somewhat nervous, as he rubbed his nape in slight embarrassment.

“I… uhm… really feel bad for not paying you at all for this. Like I said, I can only give you this much, but…” you grabbed your coat so you could take out the money again, but before you were able to do so, Minho stopped you by placing his hand on your wrist.

“Please keep them, that’s okay.”

“But…”

“I’m serious.” He looked straight at you, his glance alone convincing you to let it go. You didn’t want to risk annoying him, and it seemed your conversation would take that direction if you kept insisting.

“Okay. Uhm… I should take my leave now.” You said, petting your belly and grabbing your small hand luggage.

“Where are you going? Home…?” Minho treaded carefully, his words holding an inexplicable weight over you.

Home… I don’t have a home anymore.

You shook your head and tried to push the thoughts away, and tried thinking logically for once. Where could you go?

Letting out a small sigh, you replied, slightly dejected.

“Well… there should be a women's shelter about 4 km from here.”

“4 km?! Don’t tell me you plan on walking over there at 1 am in the middle of a winter night.”

You didn’t understand why his tone suddenly changed, and nor did Minho. He shouldn’t give two shits for a stranger, but he was somehow… worried for you?

“I mean… I don’t really have a choice… It’s not that far. I can make it. It’s only an hour walk away.” You replied, trying to convince him and yourself as well. The truth was that you were so tired, you could fall asleep if you put your head on the table, and your feet hurt so bad.

Being pregnant sucked.

“Let me take you. Jisung will be done in a minute and then we can go.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly- You already helped me so much.”

“I don’t even wanna hear it. Han, hurry up!”

“THERE’S STILL THE DISHES LEFT, HYUNG!”

“Just leave them. I’ll do them tomorrow morning.”

“OKAY THEN! I’M COMING!”

Without a second thought, Minho grabbed your bag and gestured to you that you could now go. Han went his own way, while Minho guided you to his car, in the opposite direction.

He opened the door for you and helped you in, actions that somehow made your stomach clench. No one’s acted so nice towards you. Ever.

And he was doing that for a complete stranger.

He started the car and drove to the destination you put in the GPS, and for the first time in your life, you felt an overwhelming feeling of safety. How funny it was – to feel so safe next to a stranger, when you haven’t once felt safe next to your so-called boyfriend – or rather, ex.

You were once again on the verge of crying as you’ve made this realisation in your head. How come you felt safe next to Minho? Was this really how you were supposed to feel next to someone else? Relieved, protected…

How come you’ve never felt this way before, next to your ex?

The 4-minute drive would’ve taken you more than an hour walk in the cold, so you now appreciated Minho even more for giving you a ride.

“So, this is it, right?” He said, parking in front of a small building that had all the lights off.

Weird, you thought and nodded unsure.

You both got out of the car and walked towards the building’s door, a small paper on it drawing your attention, almost burning your eyes.

“Unfortunately, due to a funding issue, the “Stay Safe” Women Shelter had to shut down indefinitely. In case of emergency, we recommend contacting our affiliate, “House of Hope” Homeless Shelter (+0X 0XXXXXXXXX) and they should offer you the help you need. We apologise for any inconvenience!”

The way your face dropped did not go unnoticed by Minho. It became clear to him that this has been your only escape route.

You slowly took out your phone from your pocket and clumsily formed the number on the paper, barely able to see with your screen’s brightness so low. You couldn’t turn it up though, since your battery percentage was so low, so you struggled and squinted your eyes, carefully pressing on each number on your phone, which proved to be so much more difficult through the tears building up in your eyes. It was getting harder and harder to swallow back the lump in your throat.

After a few rings, someone answered.

“House of Hope Homeless Shelter, this is Kelly, how may I assist you?”

“Good evening… I am contacting you because I needed some help and… I was just in front of the Stay Safe Shelter…”

“Oh, good evening, ma’am. Were you looking for a place to stay tonight?”

“Not just tonight… I don’t know for how long…”

“Are you alone, or are there also kids with you?”

“It’s just me… I’m 7 months pregnant.”

“We understand… Unfortunately, our shelter is full at the moment. The government retracted most of our funding, so these are difficult times. However, if you would be able to wait for a few minutes, I will try to contact other shelters to see if anyone would be able to take you in for now.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I will get back to you shortly.”

~

You let Minho know of the phone conversation and told him to head home, but he was adamant you would leave with him, or at least wait for the phone call in the comfort of the heated car. After some convincing, you found each other listening to some slow songs on the radio, enjoying the car’s warmth and watching the year’s first snow through the windshield.

Despite the peaceful atmosphere, you were restless and anxious. Your hands were trembling, and you couldn’t think straight. Where else would you go?

Minho didn’t say anything either. He kept thinking of ways to calm you down: should he lay his hand on top of yours and tell you that everything was going to be okay? Should he say anything at all? Why was he still with you, anyway?

You tried to think of anything else and ignore the feeling of impending doom settling in your stomach, so you looked out the window. Small snowflakes would land on the car’s hood and immediately turn to water due to the heat.

Your eyes would dart to Minho from time to time, who seemed to be lost in his own little world as he watched the same scene in front of you - the snowflakes dancing in the sky and landing on the car - and you remembered that one belief that watching the first snowfall of the year with someone would lead to falling in love with them. However, it felt like such a foolish thought, you immediately let it go.

25 minutes later, your phone’s ringtone snapped you both out of your trance. You made a mental note to change your ringtone after how anxious it made you feel right now, being sure that you won’t be able to keep hearing it again after this horrendous day.

“Yes?”

“Hello, ma’am? We apologise for the delay. Unfortunately, we were unable to find any shelter close to your location that would be able to accommodate you for tonight. We recommend going to a police station and asking for help, and you could try calling again tomorrow, when possible new resources would be available.”

“I… Seriously?” You started, but when the lady started apologising countless times on the phone for not being able to help you out, you simply ended the call. You wished the earth would swallow you whole, making you disappear for good.

But then you slapped yourself mentally. How could you be so selfish as to wish to disappear? You were not alone anymore. Your body was not yours alone anymore, and your baby didn’t deserve any of your selfish thoughts. You needed to be strong.

“What did they say?” Minho asked anxiously.

Why was he feeling like this anyway? This was so stupid, you thought. You’re no one. You’re just a random woman who stumbled upon his restaurant and took advantage of his kindness.

“They… they aren’t able to help me, so they recommended I go to a police station for tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, they’ll make some room…”

“Then, should we go to a police station…?” Minho hesitated.

You snorted and turned to him, answering in a more annoyed tone than you would’ve liked to.

“Do you think I can go to the police looking like this?!”

Minho’s eyes grew wide, conveyed in them what could only be described as shock. You didn’t want to lose your cool, not against this man who’s been nothing but kind to you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just… I’m very stressed right now and that didn’t come out as I wanted it to, and-”

“Why? Why can’t you go to the police? Are you trying to protect whoever did this to you?!” Minho cut you off and replied in an equally annoyed tone as you. However, despite the harshness in his voice, you didn’t get the feeling that he was angry. Instead, it felt more like he was scolding you.

“It’s not that! It’s just… I’m scared, okay? I’m scared they will ask me questions and when I tell them the truth, he’ll find out and come get me. He’ll… he’ll definitely find out. He’ll find me, and I’m scared of him. I just want me and my baby to be safe!” You continued, losing your composure for a moment and allowing this dreadful weakness to take over you. You started crying and placed your face steady between your palms, thinking about how pathetic you were being.

“Okay, you know what? I’m sure you are very tired right now.” He put one hand on top of your head and petted it gently, making you raise your face and look at him. His eyes were kind and assuring. “Resting is also good for the baby.” He continued, and as he said that, he put the car into gear and drove off.

“Where…?” you tried to ask, confused, but you ended up choking on a sob.

“Back to the restaurant. I have some extra rooms. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll clear your head and be able to think better.”

“Minho…” you sobbed. “Really? I… I can’t-”

“It’s okay, Dal-Rae. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure everything out tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much, but… are you sure…?”

“Mhm.” Minho brushed you off with his hand and continued driving, both of you staying silent, listening to the soft tunes on the radio.

When you arrived, Minho led you upstairs. You were surprised that the place had stairs in the first place, since you didn’t notice them earlier. On the top of the stairs, a door was separating the restaurant and the three-bedroom apartment Minho lived in.

“It’s so the cats don’t go out.” he explained, and you understood what he meant as soon as he opened the door and Dori came running and screaming at the both of you.

“What’s up? Hungry?” Minho replied and scratched Dori’s chin, and as the sounds of his voice rang throughout the apartment, Doongie and Soonie spawned out of nowhere as well.

“Oh my god, hi babies!” You exclaimed and smiled, quickly placing yourself on your knees to pet them, since you couldn’t exactly bend, your belly being so large by now.

You didn’t notice Minho’s smile. He was stuck looking at how quickly his cats accepted you and let you scratch their fur, Soonie even purring against your stomach and petting itself on it lovingly.

“Okay, enough playing, it’s late. Let’s get you up.” Minho put his palms under your arms and lifted you from the ground like you were a kid, bringing a slight chuckle to your lips.

---

Chapter 2

[kittykat-25]

One Of The Guys - Part 7

Pairings: Hongjoong x F!Reader, Chan x F!Reader

Genre: idol au, Friends x Lovers, angst

Warnings: mini anxiety attack mentioned, Feminine pet names(Bubs, Pretty Girl, Noona)

Summary: You tried really hard not to be a cliché, falling love with your best friend. How unoriginal. But when your best friend is Kim Hongjoong what are you supposed to do?

Now Playing: One Of The Guys- Jessia

Saturday morning

After the album dropped last night the guys had been in a frenzy to get everything going. Going on music core today and a variety show tonight. The packed schedule began. As you sat at the counter eating and having the show pulled up awaiting your friends stage you get a call from Chan. “Hey pretty girl, you ready for tonight?” You laughed nervously, “trying to not stress about it but excited to see you.” You heard a loud commotion in the background, “what was that?!” You asked. The call ended and a FaceTime from Chan popped up in its place. You swiped to answer and were greeted with Wooyoung’s face. “BUBS” he screeched into the phone, busting your ear drum in the process.

You could hear Chan laughing, “I had to bring Minho something and figured you’d want to say hi!” He added from behind the phone. You smiled, “thank you Channie, how’s it going boys?” You asked to no one in particular. “Y/n!!!” Was yelled back at you as the others gathering around the phone. “How are my boys? Working hard? Did you eat?” You asked, worry settling in. They all looked drained and it was only day one of the madness. “Yes we ate, and Chan Hyung brought us snacks as well.” Jongho said. The phone pointed towards. Chan would was sitting in a chair looking on happily as you got to speak with your friends.

You heard a beeping sound and all the members faces changed, “we have to go bubs! Watch us okay! “ Wooyoung yelled into the phone as he handed it back to Chan. “Have fun, go kill it!” You yelled as they all gathered at the door. As Chans face came back into focus you smiled at him widely. “Thank you Channie. That might be the only time I’ll get to actually see them for a while.” Chan said his goodbyes to your friends, walking out the door you caught Joong eyes and waved quickly before turning your eyes back to Chan. “Anything for you pretty.” You blushed deeply. Enough for Hongjoong to see it from where he was standing. A raw nagging eating at his stomach. Chalking it up to nerves he put on his game face. Not letting you distract him from work.

You got off the phone with Chan and went back to the screen ready to start the show and support the guys. Glad you lived alone in times like this as you screamed your heart out to their newest song. You spent the rest of the morning playing their new album while cleaning and dancing around your apartment. You and Wooyoung had already picked out an outfit for dinner tonight. Around 2 you started baking a cake to take to them. You knew Felix was making his famous brownies, you were so excited to get to try them. But you also didn’t want to show up empty handed. Not matter how many times Chan said it was fine. So you pulled out your go to cake recipe and go to work.

As you walked to Chans dorm you tried not to fidget too much. Your nerves were kicking in and by the time you got to the door you were fully hyperventilating. You sat the cake down and reached for your phone. Mindlessly scrolling for Joong or Wooyoung you had to remind yourself that they wouldn’t be able to help you right now. You clicked Chans contact and prayed he would answer. “Hey are you here.” You tried to get some air in your lungs, “y-yeah.” You stammered out. Chan was quiet for a minute then you heard a door close. “Are you outside? I’m coming down.” You stayed on the phone while sitting beside your cake. You had just put your head in your hands, calming down when the door busted open behind you. “Y/n, pretty girl are you okay?” Chan asked crouching down in front you of.

You looked up, finally able to breathe normally and shook your head. “Apparently I’m more nervous than I let myself believe.” You said trying to lighten the mood. “Baby we don’t have to go inside until you are okay.” He said and you tried to stand, legs a little shaky. “I’m alright Channie.” You said and you reached down to grab the cake. “I made yall something!” Chan reached over and took the cake box from you and grabbed your hands in one of his. “Y/n, I know you are nervous so if you start to get anxious or feel even somewhat uncomfortable please let me know so I can help.” You smiled at him and nodded. “They are going to love you.” He added opening the door and leading you inside.

As you walked up the stairs to their dorm you could feel your hands start to shake. You reached forward and grabbed Chans hand intertwining your fingers. He soothingly rubbed his thumb over the back of your hands, giving you a smile as you made it to his floor. “Okay they are loud and chaotic and Seungmin will tease me. Don’t believe a word he says.” Chan said as you made your way to his door. You could see his ears turning red. “Chan are you nervous?” You asked, slight chuckle in your voice. “These boys are my life y/n, they are chaotic and messy but they quite literally saved me. And I want you to like them and for them to like you because I would really like for you to become apart of my life as well.” His ears were bright red at this point.

You stopped Chan before he opened the door, “Chan I have put up with Ateez for the last seven years. I can handle 8 rowdy boys. And I want them to like me too, i would really like to become a part of your everyday life.” You said, a blush creeping up into your cheeks. Chan smiled at you, cupping your face in his hands. He swiped his thumb over the redness of your cheek, “so cute pretty girl.” He chuckled. He started to lean towards you and you could feel your heart racing, he was a breath away from you when the door swung open. “Oh my god! My eyes!” Someone started yelling. “The old man was kissing her. I’m gonna be sick.” Chan dropped his head, “Kim Seungmin I’m gonna kill you.” He called as he lead you into the dorms. All seven of the members now staring at you.

Being around Stray Kids was just as chaotic if not more than Ateez. You knew Changbin going into it so that made it easier. Soon after you shut the door he broke the silence of everyone staring at you and tackled you with a hug. Everyone else warmed up immediately, like you had always been there. Like you belonged. You walked with Chan and Minho into the kitchen and asked if you could help before you were nicely kicked out by the cook.

“Good luck with that.” He said as he shooed you towards the 6 boys yelling at a video game. You went and stood behind the couch next to Chan. He immediately pulled you in front of him, sandwiching you between him and the couch. Felix and Jeongin struggling to complete a level, “Felix never gets past this level. It’s just sad at this point.” Han said to you, you looked down to find the boy on the couch below you staring. More so at where his leader had his head resting on your shoulder, arms tightly wrapped around you.

You gave him a smile, “Chan I’m sure she’s not going to go running. You don’t have to hold her so tight.” Chan hid his face into your shoulder as all the younger members turned to look at you. You laughed, “you spoke so highly of them outside, you still standing by that?” He shook his head no, “they are all dead to me.” Hyunjin gasped, throwing himself into the chair, “betrayal, I’ve done nothing wrong.” “Betrayal is that hair color on you.” Seungmin snapped back flicking the older boys hair as he walked by.

Hyunjin looked at Chan with a pout on his face, making you laugh. “Can we have a peaceful night. For once please.” Chan says exasperated. “Oh where’s the fun in that. Y/n can handle Wooyoung, she’ll be fine with us.” Changbin says throwing you a wink. “Right your friends with Hyung Hongjoong and Wooyoung.” Felix says. “I am, I was friends with them before they debuted.” You said with a smile. “I thought you were Hongjoong’s sister…” Jeongin said. “No, we’re all just friends, Wooyoungie is the closest to being my brother.” They all nodded and you felt Chans hand give yours a squeeze. The conversation went back to teasing Felix for his lack of gaming ability until Minho called everyone to eat.

The rest of the night was a dance between playing games and who could embarrass Chan the most. Changbin having the most stories easily won that competition, having Chan burrowing his head inside his hood, only seeing the redness of his cheeks and neck. You learned a lot about the group and Chan throughout the night. You were right in the way that they all adore him. The love shining through all the jokes and the way they talk about him when he left the room. Politely questioning your intentions with their oldest. The cutest was the way Chan looked at his members, clearly adoring them. Quietly taking care of them, putting more food on their plates when they weren’t looking, making sure everyone was heard and got to say what they wanted. It was such a safe and loving environment that Chan had created.

As the night continued you saw how comforting this place was, all the members taking a liking to you. As you packed up to leave, Felix and Jeongin following you around like little ducks helping you carry anything. “Do you have to leave Noona?” Jeongin asked quietly. “You can stay!” Felix added excitedly. You laughed, “I need to go home and get some sleep guys.” Jeongin looked at you with the biggest puppy eyes he could muster, “yah leave her alone and get ready. I’m not waiting on you and I know you don’t like walking home in the dark Innie.” Minho scolded the younger two lightly pushing them towards the kitchen. You smiled at him, “thank you for dinner Minho, it was delicious.” He gave you a slight nod, “I saved some of the brownies and your cake. It’s packed up for you in the kitchen.” You bowed slightly, “thank you again.” He smiled and walked outside the youngest three following behind him waving bye to you as they passed.

Chan walked up behind you wrapped his arms around your waist, “you got Minho to like you, that’s impressive.” You nudged him slightly with your elbow, “you said they’d all love me. Did you doubt my abilities?” He laughed, “never pretty girl, just impressed. Minho is the toughest to crack besides Seungmin. But he was a sucker for you the second you called me out for blushing. Which I will repay later by the way.” He said, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours.

You heard a click, suppressing a smile as you saw Hyunjin with his camera trying to slide away before Chan could catch him. You held onto Chan a little tighter giving the younger boy a chance to get away. Hyunjin yelled a thank you as his door shut. “I get no peace in this house.” Chan whispered against your cheek. You hummed in agreement, “tragic life you live here Bang Chan.” You said quietly. You wanted to turn and look at him but with his forehead gently resting against your head and his lips slightly grazing your cheek you didn’t see the need to rush.

You saw Changbin out of the corner of your eye, rolling your eyes, you tapped Chans arm. Chan caught in the trance of you didn’t move, just pulled you tighter to him. Turning you around to face him, wrapping his arms back around your waist. You lost sight of Bin as you looked up at Chan, arms going around his neck. Your fingers curled into the hair at his nap, the little curls circling your fingertips. Chan pressed his forehead to yours. “Are you busy tomorrow pretty girl?” “Nothing too serious, just market.” You said quietly. “Spend the day with me.” He said as his fingers traced designs onto your back. You hummed stepping closer to him, no space between your bodies. “My pretty girl.” He said as he pressed a kiss to your head. Your smile broke out, and you heard the click of a camera. Chan looked up and sighed deeply making you laugh.

Wooyoung was sitting in the van riding back to the dorms when a text came through. He grabbed his phone and swiped seeing the text from you wishing him luck and a new text from Changbin. Attached was a picture of you and Chan. The man pressing a kiss to your head and you with the brightest smile he has seen on you in years. Wooyoung must’ve started smiling seeing you happy, when Mingi smacked his leg eyebrow raised. Woo flipped the phone around showing Mingi the picture.

Hongjoong turned to say something to the younger ones, caught sight of the picture and felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Turning back around quickly. “I haven’t seen her smile like that in a while.” Mingi whispered to Wooyoung, careful not to wake a sleeping Yeo. Wooyoung nodded his head, “Chan Hyung is good for her.” Hongjoong tried his best to keep his face neutral but could feel the scowl twisting his face up. Throwing his hood up he turned and looked out the window. Not noticing the worried look the younger boys were giving each other.

As Ateez cars pulled up to the dorms Hongjoong stormed inside. “What got into him?” Hwa asked looked at Wooyoung. “I have no clue.” Wooyoung said. Hwa shrugged his shoulder, “we’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He added as he guided everyone inside. Wooyoung shot Changbin a text back and waited. Hoping your night with them went well. His friend answered as Wooyoung laid down, “he’s smitten but I’m convinced the rest of the kids want her to be the new mom. Even Minho loved her but I think it’s because she complimented his cooking and his cats.” Wooyoung laughed, he couldn’t wait to hear your side of the story.

A/N: Joongie is getting jealousssss🤭 Part 8 will be out soon hopefully. Get ready for chaos and drama🫶🏻

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[skz-fanfic-recs]

hii 🥰🥰

Do you have any angst 2min fic recs?? THANKS!!! and thanks for all your other recs, I’ve been reading all of them this past week lol 😊

hey 🥰🥰 yes i do! and ofc <33

hand over hand by afterthedisco

thistle by thisismk

cloud chasing by sapphirenightingale

no one dies from love (guess i'll be the first) by afterthedisco

In the lost corner of your heart by sapphirenightingale

waving at you by afterthedisco

[kpop---scenarios]

Okay!

Coming soon..

Brothers best friend! Lee Know & Enemies to Lovers Hyunjin 👀

[acaciaev98]

Title: Crossing the Line - MinSung Fic (Stray Kids)

OneShot

They were practicing choreography for a new song, moving through the familiar motions when Jisung slid up beside him, his hand reaching out to correct Minho’s stance, fingers splayed against his hip. Minho froze, his breath catching as he felt the gentle heat of Jisung’s palm seep through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was such a simple touch, but it sent a spark through him, igniting something he didn’t know how to control.

Jisung met his gaze, a playful grin spreading across his face as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “Hyung,” he said, his tone casual, but his eyes were anything but. “You’re tense. Relax, or you’ll mess up the whole vibe.”

Minho forced himself to laugh, shaking his head as he took a step back, breaking the contact. “Easy for you to say,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light, unaffected. “You’re the one messing up my concentration.”

-----------------

Minho and Jisung’s friendship takes a turn as teasing gestures stir unexpected tension. As the line between friendship and something more blurs, they’re pulled toward a connection that can no longer be ignored.

[sprdmywings]

sprdmywings ; [ can i kiss you? ]

🍓 ; minho x m reader - track one

🍓 ; (friends 2 lovers/non idol au) fluff , oblivious dumbasses , one mention of d.ath (e) , kissing

🍓 ; back

You and Minho have always been together. There hasn't been a moment when you two weren't by each others side. You were the other half of Minho and he was yours. It was like you were destined to be together forever.

Everything was perfect, except one thing.

You both liked each other.

While it was obvious to others, you both had no idea you shared mutual feelings. It was painful to watch you guys flirting then crying to your best friends later about how he would "never love you."

Said best friends couldn't wait for you two to stop being stupid and confess already.

You were walking back from college to go see Minho when you felt two pairs of arms wrap around your own. Shocked, you jumped and admittedly turned around to see who intruded your walk.

"You're so easy to scare, y/n" None other than Hwang Hyunjin and Han Jisung themselves.

Hyunjin poked your side, making you jump and slap his arm. "I told you I'm ticklish there," you frowned at him.

"I know. that's why I do it," he laughed. "You're so mean." you pouted, pushing him off and grabbing onto Jisung's arm.

"Sungie," you whined, "Hyunjin is bullying me."

"Hyung, stop bullying y/n," he glanced at you before looking to Hyunjin again, "that's my thing." He smiled and poked your side, causing the other to resume his previous assault.

You laughed involuntarily and tried your best to push them off. "I hate you guys."

Eventually, they had enough and stopped their ticklish attacks with a smile on their face. "We love you too~"

"Seriously..." you puffed out a laugh and went on your way, the two idiot best friends following behind.

"Where are you going?" Jisung wrapped an arm around your shoulder, "to see Minho?" Hyunjin eyed over curiously.

"Yeah. We're going to have a movie night tonight. " Ever the man, Jisung raised an eyebrow questionably. "Netflix and chill?" You laughed and playfully hit his shoulder. "It's not like that. We're just friends. Plus! I think he likes someone else."

"What makes you think that?" Hyunjin titled his head to the side, "I mean, he's, like, obviously head over heals for you. You literally don't have anything to worry about. I don't think I've seen anyone as devoted as him." Jisung nodded his head. "Minho Hyung always tells me about how cute you are. Not to mention he won't stop talking about you. I can't get through one meal with him without it being 'y/n this, y/n that.' It's annoying, honestly."

You sucked in a breath, heat rushing up to your cheeks, turning them a bright red. "Oh my god, stop." You put your hands over your face and whined. "And he calls me cute all the time. It doesn't mean anything."

"But you're still blushing, right?" No denying that.

"Whatever, let's just go. I was supposed to pick up snacks on my way there."

###

Shortly after grabbing snacks and a successful attempt to send a troublesome Jisung home, you were finally sat comfortably on Minho's couch while he pops the popcorn in the kitchen.

"Hey, don't forget the extra—"

"Butter?" Minho looked back and smiled. "I already added it in." You smiled, "What would I ever do without you?"

"Probably die." Minho walked over with a bowl filled with popcorn. "I would too if I didn't have someone so handsome and amazing with me all the time."

"Shut up," you laughed, "You're so full of it." You reached over for the bowl, taking it from the his hands. "You love it though," he smirked and sat down. "That I do."

You were halfway through the movie when you started sneaking glances at Minho. The movie was boring anyway, and Minho was looking a little too fine.

You admired his beautiful face, taking in his features. His soft plump lips, enchanting eyes that watched the movie with interest. No matter how many times you looked at him, he was always gorgeous. It was hard to believe someone as talented, nice, and beautiful as him existed.

"Are you going to keep staring at me?"

Minho turned his head and stared at you, the corner of his lips turned up. "Am I that handsome? That you just can't enough of me?" Your jaw dropped slightly, face immediately turning red. "W-well, uh, you see..."

"It's okay, y/n. I know I look good." He wore a smug smile, patting your back.

You looked down to the floor in embarrassment, thinking of what to say. No comeback could come to mind. You had to say something or else it would just get more awkward.

"Yeah. Uh, you're really pretty, Minho."

Speechless, he turned to look at you, his own face red. He took a moment to process your words before finally responding. "I know."

"Oh shut up!" You laughed and pushed his shoulder. "I'm pouring my heart out to you. Can't you afford to be a little less self-centered?"

Minho smiled and held his shoulder, relishing in your angelic laugh. He let out a blissful sigh, "ah, fuck it. Hey, you know what?" You tilted your head to the side, humming for him to continue.

"I really like you."

"What?"

"Listen, I know you don't feel the same way, but I had to say it," he paused, "gosh, this is embarrassing... I just, I just like— no love. I love you, y/n. And not in the best friends type of way. I want to take you out on dates, hold your hand, maybe even kiss if you'd let me. We've been friends for so long, and I literally cannot see my life without you. I love you so much it's so, ah. I'm not too good at this..."

You took his hand, making him stop his ranting. "Minho. I like you too. I love you, I have for a while now." You could feel your face burning. Not only did you get to confess to your crush, but he confessed first! It feels so unreal; your deepest fantasies finally coming true.

"Can I kiss you?" He ran his thumb over your knuckles, the movie long forgotten.

"Do you even have to ask?" His breath gently fanned onto your lips. Slowly, Minho leaned in, soft, plush lips meeting your own. You smiled into the kiss, warm feelings erupting throughout your soul. No doubt the same was happening to him.

His hand came up to your neck, cupping the back of it, and bringing you closer. All these years of crushing on someone you thought you could never have, all those tears shed. He finally loved you back.

Only pulling away for air, you wrapped your arms around his chest, engulfing him in a hug. He did the same, squeezing you tight like you were to run if he let go. "I love you so much."

You didn't dare move. If you two ended sound asleep cuddling on the couch, well, thats your business.

bonus .

You woke up to the sound of banging on the door, jumping at the sound.

"Minho Hyung! Open up!"

You looked beside you, seeing said man with a hand on your waist and another cradling your head. With a sigh, you were about to sit up to let Jisung in when the hand on your waist tightened.

"Sleep a little more, he'll go away sooner or later." You let out a giggle and laid back down into the warmth of his arms.

"Okay."

— only god knows how long ive been putting this off 💀 oopsies. lmk if i made any mistakes :3

@sprdmywings # do not copy/steal or translate any works

[0a5-the-glue]

Scars To Your Beautiful

Pairing: Lee Minho x Han Jisung x 9nth member! Amab! Reader

Genre: Angst, comfort, friends to lovers

Synopsis: You all come back home after that live and now was time to tell the others. Did they understand your actions, or are they mad that you haven’t told them sooner?

Words: 2.8K

Warnings: !!SA!! (It’s mentioned, but I don’t go into what happens during it.) !!MDNI!!

A/n: English isn’t my first language! If in any ways I don’t use this topic right and it could be offensive, please tell me. Hope you’ll enjoy this chapter!

Inspired by: “Scars To Your Beautiful” Alessia Cara.

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Chapter 2: Reactions

You feel someone’s arm around you before getting picked up. You stir and crack open an eye. You see the side profile of Jisung’s face and breathe out in relief.

That action grabs the attention of the younger one, he looks at you and smiles. "Go back to sleep, hyung." Jisung tells you in a low tone. "We’re going home and we can all go take a well-deserved nap, alright?"

You just let out a tired sound and lean your head on his shoulder. You frown slightly realizing that the other boys aren’t around him. “Where are they…? Where are my boys Sungie?”

He pats your back to keep you calm and smiles at the obvious care you have over the group. “They’re just fine, Chan is clearing our afternoon, and the others are in the room right beside ours.”

“I want to go see them.” You say, trying to move out of his grasp.

Jisung was about to put you down to avoid hurting you, but the presence of Chan stops him. “Y/n, please stay still.” He says in a calm voice.

You smile at your hyung and nod. “Are we going home? Sungie said you went to clear our afternoon.”

“We are,” he nods, a smile forming on his face. “I’ll go tell the boys, but your job right now, is to relax.”

You let out a small laugh and give your attention back to Jisung. He only smiles and start walking toward the exit, adjusting his hold around you to be sure it’s secure and you don’t risk falling.

When you’re back home, the boys all sit on the couch and look at each other.

Minho walks to you and grabs your hand to grasp your attention. “Tired? You can go take a nap if you’d like.”

You look at him and then the boys, you squeeze his hand. “I am,” you whisper. “Any of you want to take a nap with me?” You ask looking at your group, trying to get them to break the uncomfortable tension that is there since the car ride.

None of them look at you, except for Seungmin. You just smile softly at him and extend your hand toward him. “He knows, doesn’t he?” You murmur to Minho.

You see your hyung tense and nod slightly. “Promise I didn’t tell him, he just..."

“Guessed it.” You answer for him. “I know.”

Seungmin takes your hand and you pull him toward your room, leaving Minho with the others.

The younger man could feel your hand trembling in his, so he gives a gentle squeeze. He kept quiet until you were both in your room, the door closed. He pulled you onto his chest, one hand on the back of your head while his free arm wraps around your shoulder. Placing his head on the crook of your neck. “I’m so deeply sorry for not noticing before hyung.” His voice wavers.

You feel his tears fall on your shirt, you let out a small breath and place your arms around his waist to hug him back. “It’s not your fault, Minnie…” You whisper. “I decide to hide it from you all, so it’s not your fault. I did everything in my power to hide it, I didn’t want you to worry.” You pull away and wipe his tears away gently with your thumbs. “You were all going to drop everything you worked so hard to accomplish if I had told you. I couldn’t let that happen.” You say truthfully. “I couldn’t let down my boys.”

Seungmin lets out a small sob and lean into your touch. “But we let you down.” He whispers. “We couldn’t protect you-“

You stop him from saying anything further. “You saved me.” You admit. “I didn’t feel like a person anymore after, but you treating me like you normally do, made me feel normal. You made me stay.” You say softly. “By not knowing and acting like usual, saved me.”

The boy’s eyes widen and he finally breaks down. “Saved you? Hyung, you…”

Seeing the boy’s frightened expression, you hug him tighter and reassure him. “Oh no Minnie, I meant you saved me from losing myself.” You say in a hurry. “I know I haven’t been myself lately, but I always felt more like it around you all.”

You feel the tension in his shoulders leave as they drop. “No matter what you would have told me, to me, you’ll always be my hyung that has always been there for me.” He whispers in your ear. “Please know that I’m not mad at you.”

You breath out in relief at his words. “Thank you for understanding, Minnie.”

The sound of a knock wakes you and Seungmin up. You open your eyes and see Jeongin standing on your doorstep. “Minho hyung said that dinner’s ready soon and to wake you two up.” He admits.

“Coming in two minutes.” You answer and push the blanket away from you. You gently shake the sleeping boy’s shoulder to wake him up. “Come on Minnie, time to wake up.”

The boy only stirs and groans before turning around and pulling the blanket up to cover his face. You hold in a laugh and look at Jeongin. The concerned sighs and wave his hand toward the kitchen for you to go before walking to Seungmin.

“You’re an angel innie.” You laugh and leave your room.

When you see all the boys, you smile and go sit down with them in the living room. They look up from their phones and smile seeing you. Changbin, that is on your right, places his arm behind you on the couch, his finger tips grazing your shoulder. Felix, that was on your left, only grabs your hand and start playing with your rings.

“How was your nap, angel?” Asks Hyunjin. “You and Seungmin were out like lights for a good three hours.” He smiles.

“Three?” I laugh. “And it was great, I haven’t slept that good in days!”

You feel your phone buzz against your back pocket, you squeeze Felix’s hand before letting go and pick your phone up to see a message from your leader.

Channie Can we talk after dinner? No pressure, only if you’re up to it. Y/n Sure hyung, will we be alone? Channie That’s your decision, I don’t mind another one coming, but it’s all your call.

You look up to Chan and smile at him.

Minho screams from the kitchen that dinner’s ready, you smile and get up. You feel Changbin’s hand delicately grab yours and you tighten the hold. You pull him to the kitchen and take your usual seats. Minho on your right and Changbin on your left. “Thanks for the meal, Min.”

You put your empty plate in the sink, getting ready to wash the dishes, but the sound of Chan clearing his throat stops you. You turn to face him and smile. “Right, sorry.”

He only hums. “Let’s go for a walk?” He asks.

“Sure.” You say and go put on your shoes.

You grab your coat and see Hyunjin look at you both, anxious. Before you could ask what was wrong, but he stops you by saying: “Can I tag along?”

Chan looks at you, silently asking for permission and you just smile at Hyunjin. “Of course you can.”

The boy smiles and puts on his shoes and coat before joining you two.

The walk started with a comfortable silence. Chan stops in front of a park and stares at you and Hyunjin. You both nod at the silent question and you all go sit on the swings. You move slightly, your gaze focused on the view in front of you. The two other men’s gaze were on you, you could feel their hesitation, making you laugh nervously. “Come on, tell me, what do you want to know, I’ll be honest.”

Chan laughs at your direct answer and turns to face the same view as you are. “What happened yesterday? Did we say something that made you mad?” He asks in a calm tone.

You keep on swinging and shake your head from left to right. “You didn’t say anything wrong, hyung. In fact, none of what happened is anyone’s fault.” You let out a shaky breath. “I’m the one in the wrong if we qualify wrong and good in this matter.”

“How could you be in the wrong?” Hyunjin asks.

“I was the one that lied for weeks.” You smile sadly at the younger boy.

The two boys keep silent, but now their full upper body was turned to face you. You look down and hold in your tears. “Before I say nothing more about it, promise me to not get mad?” You murmur and look up to them to see their reactions. They both nod and you smile sadly. “I was raped, by Eric and two others I don’t know.” You let out in one breath, feeling one tear roll down your cheek. “Believe me, please…” You beg in a low tone.

You see from the corner of your eyes Hyunjin get up and then he kneels in front of you. You avoid looking at him by looking at your thighs. You felt the heavy stare of Chan on your side as Hyunjin places his hands on your knees. “Y/n hyung, look at me please.”

You clench your jaw to hold back a sob and look at the boy in front of you. Hyunjin was about to speak, but the sudden sound of Chan getting up and fast steps males you panic. You back away to not hurt Hyunjin and get up to look at him leaving. “Hyung! Please!” You cry. “L-let me explain! I’m s-so sorry!” Your legs start to tremble under your weight and feel a lump form itself in your throat. “Please,” you beg in a broken voice. “You promised hyung, you promised to not get mad at me!” You cry out.

You see Chan tense under your words and look down, his hands fisted. You thought he’d turn around and come back, but he just walks away, leaving you alone with Hyunjin. You feel your heart drop and look behind you where Hyunjin is. You breathe in shakily and try to smile at him. “You can leave to if you don’t believe me…” You murmur in a defeated voice.

You feel a gentle, trembling touch under your chin to make you look up. “I’m not leaving,” he takes in a breath. “Channie hyung is surprised, t-that’s all.” He tries to explain. “I believe you, hyung, and I’m not mad. Promise.” He whispers. “Can I hug you?”

You sob at his words. “You’re not mad?” You mumble with a relieved sigh. You don’t answer his question and just wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, placing his arms around your waist and holding you tightly against him, one hand rubbing your back in up and down motions.

You two stay in this position until you hear the sound of heavy breathing reach your ears. You look behind you and see Chan in tears and guilt showing all over his face.

You tense and let go of Hyunjin, you look at the leader mad, but vulnerable. “I-if you’re there to insult or scold me, leave, please.” You say in a wavering voice. “I don’t wish for that right now. You have all the rights to be mad, but please, don’t. Not today.”

Chan lets out a pained noise at your words and look at you in the eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry Y/n.” He sobs. “I-I was angry because I felt like I was useless and I left you in pain for so long.” He admits. “I wanted to cool out before talking to not snap at you.” He sighs. “I promise Y/n, promise that I’m not mad! I promise I believe you! F-fuck, I was such an ass, I’m so, so sorry!” He stutters out and look at you for any reactions. “Forgive me for my stupidity Y/n…”

You smile sadly through the tears and nod, walking toward him slowly after making sure that Hyunjin was fine. “Hyung,” you croak out. “I forgive you,” you whisper and fall into his embrace. “Just don’t leave me again…”

Chan holds you tightly against him and sway you gently from side to side. “Never.” He promises.

The three of you walk back home, the boys holding each of your hands in theirs. You were still crying, but the boys let you, because they knew that you needed it before coming back to the others.

You wipe your eyes when you’re in front of your doorstep and smile at the two boys before getting inside. All the boys are in the kitchen, but Changbin, Felix and Jeongin that are sat in the living room. They all tilt their head to look at you and when they do, a small whisper from Felix takes your entire attention. “Hyung, you’re back…”

“I am,” you whisper with a small smile. “Your turn, I guess?”

“Please?” Changbin’s voice says lowly.

You nod and look at the two boys beside you, silently asking for privacy between you and the three others on the couch. Hyunjin and Chan nods before heading to the kitchen. You go sit on the little coffee table in the living room to face the boys and give them the most truthful smile you could muster, which ended up as a small one. You look at your arms and then sigh, deciding to take a different approach with those three to say it. You lift up your sleeves and keep your eyes on your arms, waiting for their reactions. You hear the three of them gasp and you tilt your head up. “So-”

You get cut off by a concerned Felix. “How did you get those, hyung?” He asks and grazes your wounds with his fingertips. “T-they’re so big, hyung, they must hurt so bad…” he whispers.

“It’s not that bad now,” you answer and grab his wrist gently to make him stop. You look up to Changbin and Jeongin before saying out loud the harder part. “I got them three weeks ago,” you hesitate and bite your lower lip.

“How?” Asks Changbin in a serious tone.

“Hyung! Let him speak and be nice!” Jeongin says in a nervous voice.

“It’s okay, Innie.” You reassure. “I got them from rape, Binnie.” You say guiltily, looking straight into his eyes. “Sucks, right?” You try joking, your voice breaking and eyes watering.

“Fuck,” he says in a hurry before kneeling on the ground and pulling you tightly against his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry Y/n, God,” he murmurs. “Should’ve been there to protect you hyung, I’m so, so sorry.” He mutters, hiding his tears-stained face on your shoulder.

You feel Jeongin’s and Felix’s arms wrap around you and Changbin and tones of apologies falling from their mouths. “Please don’t apologies…” you cry. “Anything but feel sorry for me, please.” You beg. “I’m still the same, I’m your hyung. A-aren’t I…?” You ask, panic rising inside you.

“You are!” Felix lets out, feeling your panic. “P-promise, you are!” He stutters. “We’re only sorry that we couldn’t stop it, that you had to go through that.” He whispers, tears in his eyes.

Jeongin tilts your head on the side and smiles through his tears. “You are Y/n Y/l/n, a member of Stray Kids, a main vocalist with Seungmin. Our hyung.” He says in a confident tone. “A wonderful person that went through an awful event.” He adds in a shaky voice. “That is who you are. Nothing less.”

You cry at his words and move in Changbin tight grasp, only able to move on your side, and place your free arm around his shoulders, bringing him into the hug. Changbin placing his arm on top of yours, and lift his head to look at Felix before wrapping his unoccupied arm around the boy, bringing him into the embrace.

“Can I ask who did this to you..?” Changbin asks.

You look at the boy that is only days younger than you and smile sadly. “Eric, and two others that I don’t know.” You answer. “I just know that they are Eric’s friends.”

You feel all the boys tense around you. You bite your lower lip and hide your face on the maknae’s shoulder. “I don’t know more about them.”

“Thanks for telling us Y/n hyung.” The three of them whisper, holding you tighter.

You hum and relax in the warm embrace, your eyelids getting heavy and you yawn. Felix lets out a small laugh and kiss the top of your head. “You can sleep, we’ll take care of you.”

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Thanks for reading!